The Bridge
I remember the day our village became a national attraction. We had built a bridge - the first in the country - connecting our little picturesque village to the mainland. It was a pleasantly warm February morning. Winter had passed but it wasn’t quite spring yet and it was one of my favourite times of the year.
I was just ten then. My mom had stopped me from running off with my friends that morning after breakfast, to make me wear my jacket and a hat. “There you go,” she had said, “now you’re ready to go. But wait for us; don’t go running off to the riverbank just yet. Your father will be ready in 5 minutes.”
All the villagers were gathered around a make-shift podium that was erected the day before on the river bank. The bridge was to be grandly opened by the man who undertook most of the funding for the project. He, Uncle Joseph, was the richest man in the village and he was also the first to buy a car two years down the road. People said although he spent a lot of money on the bridge, he made it big and got back all that money and more.
He was a nice man, always smiling and talking to everyone he sees. Always ready to help anyone in need and more than willing to invest in our village. Everyone liked him. He was even a popular candidate to become the mayor but he rejected the offer saying he didn’t want politics to stain his reputation. I didn’t know what he meant by that back then.
It was like a funfair. There were people handing out free balloons and lollipops to the children gathered there. I was short and couldn’t see much and the waiting was starting to get the better of me. With the lollipop in my mouth, I started looking around and spotted my friends in the crowd. First Johnny, then Henry and William, they were all there. There were even people from the newspapers, wearing their fancy coats and hats, pens and notebooks.
Just when I thought I’ll leave my family to go play with my friends, a man walked onto the podium and announced the opening of the bridge. A sudden doubt crept into my mind. Was there another grand opening being held on the other side of the bridge? Who would be opening it there?
Lost in my thoughts, I couldn’t concentrate on what Uncle Joseph was saying. Something about the construction of the bridge. And before I knew it, the band was playing and Uncle Joseph had cut the ribbon. I couldn’t even see it properly. People started rushing past me to get onto the bridge, just to get a view from the bridge.
And like that, our village was on the news and our mode of transportation changed overnight. We still loved the boats but the bridge cut down travelling time by 15 minutes. We also didn’t have to wait for the boat to be full anymore.
As the years went by, I grew up and went off to the city for college. I found a job there after I graduated and then I found the woman of my dreams. She was a city girl, so after our marriage we didn’t come back to my village much. We would only visit during the holidays. The bridge had become part of the village and after Uncle Joseph’s passing, no one was particularly interested to handle the welfare of the bridge.
When public bus services started, people found out that the bridge had the width to hold only one. As national transportation improved, the villagers started feeling that the bridge we had just wasn’t enough. They wanted a bigger one. But no one was willing to invest in reconstructing it.
Now, 60 years later, a company which set up it’s office in the village has sponsored a bigger bridge. It won’t be that big a deal now. There are bridges everywhere. There won’t be freebies for the kids or journalists covering the event. The boat business will suffer a huge hit, though. I heard many of them are stopping daily trips and offering their boats up for rental. Recreational activities, they call it now, what used to be a daily task for us back in the day.
My daughters brought me down to the riverbank today. I’d asked them to, just to see the bridge one last time. It was a mighty exciting day for us in the beginning after all.
We stood there, watching as the company’s CEO made his speech and cut the ribbon. He was very business-like and didn’t smile like Uncle Joseph did, but the bridge will benefit the people of my village.
After the opening ceremony, I walked by the old bridge. It was scheduled to be taken down and no one was allowed on it anymore. It was on the verge of collapsing, said the engineers who inspected it.
I saw a few of my old buddies. We smiled at each other and parted ways.
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