Every morning, little Sudari believes she is steering the scooter as her mother rides her to school.
Nila lets her believe — because some illusions are gentle, necessary, and full of childhood.
But one unexpected journey reveals how every emotion on the road—fear, anger, mistakes, grace—quietly teaches us that what we call control is often only an illusion.
An illusion we cling to, just as children cling to a handlebar
Every morning, little Sudari believes she is steering the scooter as her mother rides her to school.
Nila lets her believe — because some illusions are gentle, necessary, and full of childhood.
But one unexpected journey reveals how every emotion on the road—fear, anger, mistakes, grace—quietly teaches us that what we call control is often only an illusion.
An illusion we cling to, just as children cling to a handlebar
This is not a story about running from the crowd or leading
it. It is about a world where time bends—not to change
history but to listen to it.
At its heart lies a bike’s odometer, which turns not merely
numbers but memories. Each kilometre traveled uncovers
truths buried beneath habit, silence, and words left unsaid.
Neither loud nor distant, this journey unfolds within the
world we know, yet steps aside just
This is not a story about running from the crowd or leading
it. It is about a world where time bends—not to change
history but to listen to it.
At its heart lies a bike’s odometer, which turns not merely
numbers but memories. Each kilometre traveled uncovers
truths buried beneath habit, silence, and words left unsaid.
Neither loud nor distant, this journey unfolds within the
world we know, yet steps aside just