Rediscovering the Bicycle
There’s something I saw in India that I’ll never forget. We were in the Sundarbans, a region of mangrove forest wetlands along the coast of the Bay of Bengal. I was sitting in the back section of our jeep, looking out the back window at dozens of students making their way to school. Almost all of them rode bicycles, often two or three students packed onto one. Some were high school-age, some were probably around 5 or 6 years old, but they all bore the same expression. Joy.
I found out later that day that many of those students were in the middle of their hour-long commute to school. The bicycle is the only way they’re able to get there. Looking out at that caravan of young people, I was surprised by how excited they were. But I really shouldn’t have been. For them, school is an exciting thing. School is a big deal.
During junior year, I usually rode my green Schwinn Median to class. Maximum travel time maybe 4 minutes. And I certainly didn’t have to. I chose the bike because I live my life about two minutes slower than my schedule demands, and I felt it was too far to walk. But I chose it. It’s a luxury for me. Seeing the absolute necessity of the bicycle both in the Sundarbans and around Kolkata was a powerful revelation. A total exposure of privilege and reversal of perspective.
When I first arrived in Kolkata, I was astounded by the people riding bicycles, weaving in and out of the traffic, seemingly riding inches from certain death at all times. And they all seemed so nonchalant about their dangerous choice of transit. In the first few weeks of the fellowship, I tried to capture the Kolkata bicycle scene and share it with an Instagram account aptly titled, “Bikes of Kolkata.” Link: https://www.instagram.com/bikes_of_kolkata/
I didn’t keep up with the project much after our third week here, but my fascination with the bicycles in Kolkata, as well as the people riding them, never went away. Most of the bikes look the same- these ancient Dutch one-speed models. Most of the chains are rusted out. They creak and squeak, and can carry up to three people, two bags and a host of other objects.
Live chickens for example.
Or blocks of ice.
The bike culture in much of the United States, particularly in the Bay Area is often described as “snooty.” I tend to agree. There seems to be a rather prominent opinion that if you’re not spending thousands of dollars on your bike and your gear, you’re not doing it right. Personally, I’m an advocate for choosing a bike as a greener and healthier means of transport, although if it’s going to be your primary mode of travel, it is worth investing in.
Kolkata has shown me a different world of bicycles and riding them. It’s not a culture that is high maintenance like in America. Bikes are not revered nor given priority in infrastructure like in Amsterdam or Copenhagen. One could argue that there isn’t really a “bike culture” in Kolkata. It’s simply a inexpensive way to get around. And for many, it’s quite literally a means of survival.
Kolkata has given me an entirely new respect for the bicycle. It’s a sublimely genius machine, and I was really able to appreciate it once everything else was stripped away, and all I could see was a group of students, pounding their legs to get down a dirt road, their faces alight with an excitement for life.
I’ll definitely remember that sight the next time I’m late for class.
