As kids, my sister and I never really learned how to ride a bicycle. And honestly, I still don’t know whom to blame for it. Was it Papa, who could never squeeze out time from his busy schedule to teach us? Or maybe it was us, who didn’t have the courage to try, to fall, and to get back up again. Maa never learned it either in her childhood, so maybe this hesitation trickled down through her genes to her daughters? Just a wild guess.

When we were around 7 or 8 years old, Papa did bring home a bicycle. But not just any bicycle—it was a huge, manly one with a diagonal rod that made it even harder for little girls to manage. We’d try, fail, wobble, and finally give up. Eventually, Papa lost hope too, and sold the cycle. And just like that, we remained the girls who never learned to ride a bicycle.

Fast forward to today, I’m 24 years old. Still, none of the females in this house know how to ride one. Though I do know how to ride a scooty now, somewhere deep down, that child in me still lingers, especially when it comes to one thing—the bicycle bell.

Ah, that ‘ding dong’!

Since childhood, I’ve had an odd but adorable obsession with that sound. Every time I saw a bicycle with a bell, I would run towards it—without even realizing it—and press the bell. That cheerful ding dong would instantly light me up from the inside. It still does. Even today, I can’t stop myself. Whether it’s a stranger’s cycle or a parked one on the road—I press the bell, giggle like a child, and sneak away as fast as I can.

Now, there’s some construction going on in our house. The mistri ji who works here comes every day on his cycle. And yes, his bicycle has a bell! Every morning and evening, I quietly tiptoe towards it, press the bell, and run away with joy. Maa scolds me every single time, saying, “Oho Chhutki, don’t do that, uncle will stop bringing his bicycle one day!” But even while scolding, she bursts out laughing with me. I love that scolding. I love that laughter. I love that moment.

And you know what? When I die, I don’t want silence around me. I want a bicycle bell placed right on my grave. So when my loved ones come to visit, they can press the bell, smile, and laugh their heart out. Just be kids again. Just be real.

So tell me, is there something silly and sweet like this that still makes you feel alive? Let me know in the comments—I’d love to know your version of ding dong!

Thanks for reading this!