I should honestly confess that when I felt like writing on "My best friend", I was happy and sad at the same time. Unhappy for the reason that i thought that I don`t have something more significant to write, hence trying to write on something as cliche as this. Happy because  I felt writing on this would be quite easy and enjoyable as I have a lot of friends. So, with this feeling, I finally sat down to write on this yesterday. I picked up a pen and with my so-called confidence, I tried to write the first word. To my surprise, I felt a sudden sense of anxiety and discomfort.. I kept struggling with them and finally it resulted in the question which I asked to myself ”who is my best friend?”.

And then, in my thoughts I went back in my life and tracked my journey similarly to that scene in “Dil Chahta Hai” where Aamir Khan tracks his life’s journey in his thoughts while sitting in the opera hall. Oh my God! Every friend I stopped at, made me feel that he is certainly a good friend of mine, but a best friend? I was unsure of that answer. I don’t know whether it is due to my cynicism towards life or the fact that I really don’t have a best friend. The possibility of cynicism cannot be ruled out, after all what is cynicism?  To me it is the excessively careful attitude towards life so that we make a better future for ourselves according to the conventions of society. We become serious instead of becoming sincere. I can’t blame my friends. They were all good and trustworthy. But me, poor me! I just could not trust.
Cynicism has its required effects. While I was sadly pondering on this, suddenly a sort of revelation or insight (a common term in advertising language) occurred to me. Is my bike not my best friend? It has stayed with me for the past 8 years faithfully. Always took me to the destination on time, sometimes even said to me "Boy, you are biking a lot. A little walk is good too.” And then I profoundly realized my bike has been an inseparable part of my life. It is a part of my identity. A part of my sense of being. Guess this is what Jean Paul Sartre referred to when he talked about ‘Existentialism’. In fact, at the risk of sounding emotionally absurd, I would say that it took on itself all the hurt of the accidents that happened with me while riding the bike. She got hurt while I was always safe.
Yes, my bike is my best friend and after completing this note, I am going to update my Facebook status as…
My bike,
Thanks for not letting me alone and being there for me always as my best friend.
Yours truly,

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