22 Mar Book Review: Kailash Manasarovar

I have a childhood connection to cycling. It’s not something I consider to be just a sport. It’s a reward. It’s not exercise, it’s fun. And, now as an adult, every time someone mentions cycling, it brings back some very fond memories of my childhood. My affair with cycling began in the fourth standard when after topping the Math exam, I was rewarded with a bicycle. It was love at first ride. The red gleaming body, the sleek handlebars, the eight-tune bell – from a screaming police siren to the melodious tune of a bird’s chirping – which I would ring endlessly, the gigantic wheels, and that seat which, to me, was no less than a throne. I often spent many long hours in its company – riding it, humming songs to it, narrating the events at school, imagining quite a few stories in my head too. When I got to know about this book about a cycling expedition to Kailash Manasarovar, that too from a cycle's perspective, I knew right away that I just had to read it. In all my conversations with my cycle, its responses had always been ones which I imagined and credited to it. Now I’d finally get to know what a cycle would say if it could speak. And so, with much thrill and expectations, I picked up the book Kailash Mansarovar, published by Readomania.