Cycles

In my sabbatical proposal, I wrote I was interested in exploring three different, but interconnected domains: yoga, philosophy, and human-powered transportation. The image that I fixed in my mind while preparing was my arriving at the yoga shala, on a bike, carrying a philosophy book.

Since yesterday was a full moon day and thus, the studio was closed, I couldn’t register to begin this morning, so I’ve yet to practice at the shala; I brought my collected works of Henry David Thoreau but haven’t opened it yet, so both of those areas are a bit in arrears.

Cycling, though, I’ve covered, having ridden all over the neighborhood yesterday evening and this morning; it’s reasonably terrifying in heavy traffic, but on side streets, where it’s not uncommon to see a wandering cow or a horse-drawn cart, traffic moves a bit more slowly and cycling is pretty satisfying—although climbing even small hills on my Chinese-made one-speed clunker is a bit of a chore.

Having acquired the bike through independent channels—Sanjay the auto-rickshaw driver fixed me up—I was curious to see what the local bike shops were like, so I took the bus downtown and wandered a bit through crowded streets, one of which was home to half a dozen very similar establishments, all of which specialized in Chinese-made bikes and parts. I realized, to some chagrin, that I could have purchased a brand-new Atlas for only about fifty bucks more than I’m renting an old beat-up one for a month, but on the other hand, I’m glad to have one that’s not quite as desirable as the shiny number. (Oddly, you see loads of beaters around, but I’ve yet to see anyone on a new bike.)

I did stock up on a few items to bring home: mudflaps,

especially, but also a couple of seat covers and a few fancy top tube protectors with flashy designs and fringe.

So: cycling? Check. Tomorrow, yoga; philosophy to come.