My Crazy Market Ride

I was so tired—like really, really tired. My eyes were half closed, my back was hurting, and all I wanted was to lie down and not move for at least a year. But no, my mom had other plans.

“Beta, market chalte hain,” she said, holding the shopping bag like she was going to war.

I nodded slowly, already knowing this was not going to end well. I took out my scooty and started it with a small prayer. Because guess what? One of the brakes doesn’t work. Yes, the back brake is gone. I don’t even know how it happened—one day it was fine, next day, poof! Useless.

But still, I drove. Carefully. Like a grandma. Every time a dog crossed the road or a child ran by, my heart jumped to my mouth. My hands were tight on the handle, and my foot was ready on the working brake. I kept saying in my head, “Please God, no speed-breakers today.”

And the scooty? Oh, that thing has its own mood. It makes weird noises like it's crying. But I stayed strong. Because I’m the driver. The captain. The pilot of this disaster.

We reached the market safely (thank you, God), but then came the real enemy—the scooty stand.

I don’t know what problem it has with me, but it never works when I try to use it. I push it, pull it, kick it—nothing. It just doesn’t listen. I was sweating more from the stand than the whole ride.

Mom got down, looked at me, and said, “Itna time lagta hai?”

I wanted to scream, “Mummy, stand lag hi nahi raha!” But I just gave a fake smile and tried again. After five tries, it finally worked. Victory!

In the market, we walked and walked. My legs were already tired, and now they were just giving up. Mom was full of energy, picking vegetables, fruits, soap, rice—like she had a rocket inside her.

Me? I was just holding the bag and following like a robot.

After almost one hour, we came back to the scooty. I again fought with the stand to lift it up. Somehow managed. Then I drove back, using one brake like a superhero. Cars honking, people crossing, potholes everywhere—but I made it home.

As I parked the scooty, my hands were shaking. My brain was done. My body said, “No more, please!”

I went inside, dropped the bag, and flopped on the sofa.

That was my ride. One brake, one stubborn stand, and a tired soul.

But hey—I survived!

And so, the ride ended—tired hands, shaky legs, and a scooty that had seen better days. The market trip may have been short, but the adventure? Quite something. The scooty stood quietly in the corner, as if hiding its broken brake and stubborn stand. The sun set slowly, painting the sky in soft orange. Thank you for reading this little slice of everyday chaos. Until the next journey…

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