So I’ve loved and had the desire to fly drones but didn’t think I’ll achieve that due to the circumstances I found myself in…but today I can say I am a certified Drone Pilot…


With Drone you get beautiful views that ordinarily the eyes won’t or can’t see…


The day was October 6th, 2025. The air carried a faint bite of the approaching winter, yet the sun still hung stubbornly high in the sky, refusing to yield. From the window of my small apartment in Momenbag Residential Area, I gazed at my bicycle parked in the corner — my trusted single-speed 48×18, its steel frame catching the weak golden light. There it sat, silent, waiting for the journey that had already begun in my mind.

For weeks, I had been reading fragments about the Ramdhan Bhaban Zamindari House, a once-grand palace that now lay forgotten, abandoned in the fields beyond Raozan. Its walls had heard the laughter of a bygone era, the soft footfalls of servants, the whispered intrigues of landlords and their families. I wanted to touch those walls, to feel the ghostly pulse of history through my palms, and I wanted to do it alone, on two wheels, under my own power.

There is a strange poetry in the call of a forgotten place. It isn’t loud, nor urgent — it is quiet, persistent, like the hum of a bicycle chain. And once heard, you can’t ignore it.

Departure from Momenbag — 3PM, A Ride Against Time

At exactly 3:00 PM, I hoisted myself onto the saddle, adjusted my helmet, and pressed my palms against the cool metal of the handlebars. I pushed off, the familiar click-clack of my single-speed chain echoing against the quiet streets. Momenbag Residential Area was bustling with the last stirrings of day: children running after a stray ball, shopkeepers counting bills, women calling to each other across narrow lanes.

The first few pedals were easy, almost too easy, as my body hummed with anticipation. But soon, the weight of the day — the sweat, the heat, the traffic — would test my resolve. Every push of the pedals was a negotiation with time itself. I wanted to reach Ramdhan Bhaban before sunset, to see the ruins bathed in that fleeting, golden light that only late afternoon offers.

Through Rahmania School & Atiratipu — The Warm Roads of Memory

The road from Momenbag to Rahmania School was familiar, lined with mango trees that had seen me pass dozens of times on other rides. But today, the familiar was tinged with purpose. I passed the dusty schoolyard, now empty as students had finished classes. The sun slanted between the branches, lighting the road in fragments of gold.

From Rahmania, the path to Atiratipu wound along narrow lanes, uneven and strewn with pebbles. The wind picked up, brushing my face, whispering encouragement. Here, in these quiet moments, I reflected on the cycles of time — how children grow, leaves fall, and buildings crumble. I realized that a ride like this is more than a journey of distance; it is a journey of thought.

Oxygen to Fatehabad — Wind, Traffic, and Trials

The next stretch to Oxygen was deceptively long. Small trucks jostled past, the dust clinging to my skin, and the sun began its slow descent, making the horizon burn with an almost surreal orange hue. The rhythm of my pedals became meditative, a mantra repeated in steel and rubber: push, roll, push, roll.

By the time I reached Fatehabad, my legs had begun to complain, and yet there was a growing thrill. The roads narrowed further, fields on either side swaying in the wind. I passed tea stalls and small shops, the owners nodding at me with quiet recognition. Some asked where I was headed. When I whispered, “Ramdhan Bhaban,” they looked surprised — few remembered its name anymore. That only strengthened my resolve.

The Climb to Hathazari — Sweat and Silence

From Fatehabad, the road to Hathazari began its gentle incline. Nothing too steep, yet enough to make the single-speed 48×18 bite hard against my legs. Sweat ran down my back, stinging my eyes, but there was a strange pleasure in it — a reminder that effort is living.

Hathazari’s small town lanes offered brief respite. I stopped at a corner shop to sip water, the metallic tang of the bottle mingling with the earthy smell of wet soil from the recent morning drizzle. Children waved. I waved back, feeling simultaneously like a stranger and a participant in this quiet, timeless scene.

Gohira’s Golden Light — The Road Narrows, The Heart Expands

The stretch from Hathazari to Gohira was where the adventure began to truly sing. The road narrowed into almost a rural path, the sun now low, painting every surface with gold. Mango orchards, tea gardens, and scattered brick houses passed by in a blur of warm colours.

Here, the silence of the road allowed my mind to wander. I thought of the Zamindari era, of the grandeur and decay, of people who had walked these very paths decades ago, now gone. My pedals spun steadily, almost instinctively, as if the bicycle and I were co-conspiring to reach a hidden truth.

Arrival at Ramdhan Bhaban Zamindari House — Touching the Echoes of History

And then, there it was. The Ramdhan Bhaban Zamindari House emerged through the golden haze, partially hidden behind tall grasses and overgrown shrubs. Its high walls, cracked and discoloured, stood in silent defiance of time. Windows gaped like hollow eyes, and the entrance arch sagged under years of neglect.

I parked my bike outside the iron gate, now rusted and half-bent. My hands trembled slightly — not from exhaustion, but from awe. This was a place that had seen opulence, parties, and perhaps even whispers of secrets long buried. Now, it stood for me alone, a solitary witness to history waiting to be remembered.

Walking through the dusty corridors, I ran my hands along the cracked plaster, imagining the footsteps, the voices, the laughter. A pigeon fluttered overhead, disturbed by my presence, and I realized that even nature had reclaimed parts of this palace.

Conversations with Ruins — A Cyclist Alone with Time

Sitting on the crumbling steps of what once might have been the main hall, I reflected on the fleeting nature of human ambition. I thought about the journey here — the heat, the hills, the winds, the dust. Everything had conspired to make this moment heavier, more significant.

I whispered softly, “You were forgotten, but today, you are remembered.” My words seemed absurd at first, but as the wind carried them through broken windows, they felt like a bridge across centuries.

I took out a small notebook from my backpack, writing:
“A place forgotten, a journey remembered. The road to history is paved in sweat, dust, and determination.”

Return Ride — The Road Feels Different After Discovery

The journey back was quieter. The sun had nearly disappeared, leaving a soft purple twilight over the fields. The bicycle wheels hummed differently — not just movement, but memory. Passing through Gohira, Hathazari, and Fatehabad, I noticed things I hadn’t on the way in: the soft glow of lanterns in homes, the silhouettes of children playing, the aroma of evening meals.

Every pedal stroke felt lighter, as if the palace had somehow lent me a portion of its endurance. Even the hills seemed less daunting, the roads more welcoming. I realized that the journey had changed me; the ruins had given me a gift I hadn’t anticipated: a quiet sense of connection, a triumph not over distance, but over time itself.

Across Modhunaghat & Quaish — Twilight of Realization

By the time I reached Modhunaghat, the night had fully arrived. Streetlights flickered on, casting pools of orange across the road. Quaish’s narrow lanes welcomed me back, familiar yet transformed by the adventure. Every shadow, every bend, seemed to whisper: the journey matters as much as the destination.

Even as fatigue tugged at my legs, I felt a peaceful energy. I was alone, yet not lonely — carried forward by memory, sweat, and the wind that had accompanied me all the way.

Why We Ride: For Those Who Are Gone, For Those Yet to Come

Back in Momenbag Residential Area, I leaned my bike against the wall, legs trembling, heart full. I had travelled perhaps 50–60 kilometers in a few hours, yet the real journey was beyond mileage. It was a ride through time, history, and reflection.

The Ramdhan Bhaban Zamindari House would remain forgotten by most, but for me, it was alive — alive in the dust, in the stones, in the whispers of wind through broken windows. And I realized: this is why we ride. Not merely for speed, or endurance, or even adventure — but to touch something eternal, to connect with history, and to return transformed.

As I washed the dust off my hands and sipped a glass of water, I smiled. My legs were sore, my clothes dirty, but my spirit was triumphant.

Somewhere along the road, in the golden light of a fading day, I had met the past — and the past had met me back.

YOU’VE got this.

Yes — you.

Not the “professional cyclist.”
Not the “super-fit athlete.”
Not the “fastest rider in town.”

You — the person who’s curious, maybe a little nervous, but brave enough to say, “Maybe I could try.”

Because starting your cycling journey doesn’t begin on the road.

It begins in your mind.

It begins the moment you whisper to yourself:

What if I could?

The Most Powerful Revolution Begins with Two Wheels

There’s something magical about bicycles.

They are:

But most importantly…

They are equalizers.

A bicycle doesn’t care who you are.

It doesn’t care about your age, body type, pace, or past.

It doesn’t ask if you’re ready.
It just asks if you’re willing.

Feeling Nervous? That’s a Good Sign.

You might be thinking:

Let me tell you a secret:

Every rider — even the confident ones — has felt this.

Every cyclist you’ve seen flying down the road started somewhere.

Some of them were scared.
Some were out of shape.
Some wobbled. Some fell. Some almost quit.

But they didn’t.

They chose to try again.

And that is the difference between “people who ride” and “people who wish they did.”

Want to Join the Cycling Community? Here’s the Only Rule:

We don’t care how fast you go. We care that you go.

That’s it.

You don’t need to be competitive.
You don’t need to be perfect.
You don’t need to be fearless.

You just need to show up.

Because once you start pedalling, something beautiful happens…

Your First Ride Will Not Be Your Fastest.

But it might be:

You’ll breathe deeply.

You’ll feel the wind on your face.

You might smile — not because you were told to, but because your soul demanded it.

Four Simple Principles for a Strong Start

Forget perfection. Focus on these:

Start slow and steady.
Your journey doesn’t need fireworks. Just consistency.

Listen to your body.
Rest when needed, push when inspired.

Celebrate every small win.
First ride? Amazing. First hill? Epic. First sweat drop? Legendary.

Focus on your journey, not others.
No comparison. Just progression.

Cycling Doesn’t Just Change Lives — It Changes Communities

When you ride, you’re not just moving your body.
You’re helping move the world forward.

🌍 Less pollution.
🧠 More mental peace.
🫶 Stronger local connections.

You smile at strangers.
You notice trees again.
You feel like you belong.

One rider becomes two.
Two becomes ten.
Ten becomes change.

Movements don’t begin with crowds. They begin with one brave person saying “I’ll start.”

Today — that person could be you.

So, Where Do You Begin?

Right here.

Not with a race.

Not with a long-distance challenge.

Not with pressure.

But with self-trust.

Get on the bike.
Take a breath.
Push the pedal.

Even if it’s for five minutes.
Even if it’s just to the corner and back.

That’s not “just a little ride.”

That’s a declaration.

“I’m choosing courage over comfort.”
“I’m choosing growth over doubt.”
“I’m choosing movement over hesitation.”

And When You Do…

We — the global cycling community — will be cheering for you.

From quiet commuters to weekend cruisers.
From wobbly learners to seasoned spinners.

Because there’s always room for one more rider.

One more smile.
One more voice saying, “Cycling changed my life.”

So take that first pedal.

Not to impress others —

But to empower yourself.

Your journey begins not with speed — but with courage.

And you, my friend?

You’ve already shown you have plenty.

Knowledge is power. Whether your goal is a gentle daily commute, a weekend adventure, or simply feeling lighter inside after a short loop around the neighbourhood — this guide walks you through everything a new rider needs to know, plus useful tips for occasional and regular riders alike. I’ve packed it with practical how-tos, safety steps, maintenance checklists, and gentle motivation so you can start smart and keep going.

Table of contents (jump to any section)

  1. Tips for new riders

  2. Tips for occasional riders

  3. Tips for regular riders

  4. Tips for riding to work (commuting)

  5. Tips for buying a bike

  6. Tips for riding in hot, humid or rainy climates (and winter basics)

  7. Basic bike maintenance (step-by-step essentials)

  8. Tools & kit to carry (every ride checklist)

  9. Tips to build confidence on the bike

  10. How to lock your bike — security best practices

  11. Riding for transportation: mindset & setup

  12. Tips for riding while working from home

  13. Tips for biking adventures & bikepacking basics

  14. Planning a ride with kids (safety & fun)

  15. How to encourage more people to ride

  16. How to find a group to ride with

  17. Tips for riding in the dark (visibility & lights)

  18. Commuting hacks — practical shortcuts

  19. How to stay motivated to ride to work

  20. Tips for riding in Islamic clothing

  21. Tips for riding a bike during Ramadan

  22. Ride with pride: tips for new LGBTQIA+ riders

  23. How-tos: how features work & how to use the tips (setting goals, gear, cadence)

  24. Why encouragement matters

  25. Start here — small plan to get you rolling

1. Tips for new riders

Welcome. Start small. Your first rides are about habit and comfort, not speed or distance.

2. Tips for occasional riders

You ride sometimes — weekends, errands. Keep your bike ready to go.

3. Tips for regular riders

You cycle frequently. Make riding sustainable and rewarding.

4. Tips for riding to work (commuting)

Commuting by bike removes stress and adds movement to your day — with the right strategy.

5. Tips for buying a bike

Buying right saves money and frustration.

6. Tips for riding in hot, humid, rainy climates (and winter basics)

If you ride in heat or monsoon seasons (or winter), adapt.

7. Basic bike maintenance (step-by-step essentials)

A little maintenance goes a long way. Learn these basics.

Pre-ride quick check (the 60-second check)

Fixing a flat (tube tyre) — the short version

  1. Remove wheel (release brakes if rim brakes).

  2. Use tyre levers to pry the tyre off one side.

  3. Pull out the tube, slightly inflate the new/old to find the hole.

  4. Inspect tyre/tire-lining for glass or thorn and remove it.

  5. Insert new tube, tuck the tyre bead back, inflate partway, recheck seating, fully inflate to recommended pressure.

(Patch kits are great, but spare tubes are faster when you’re commuting.)

Lubrication

Brake adjustments (rim brakes)

Wheels & spokes

When to go to a shop: headset/bottom bracket creaks, major gear skipping, hydraulic brake problems, wheel building, or anything involving bearings — professionals are worth the money.

8. Tools & kit to carry (every ride checklist)

Keep it light but useful.

9. Tips to build confidence on the bike

Confidence grows with small wins.

10. How to lock your bike — security best practices

Bikes get stolen. Reduce the risk.

11. Tips for riding for transportation (daily life)

Make your bike your everyday tool.

12. Tips for riding while working from home

If your commute is now optional, use the bike to create structure.

13. Tips for biking adventures & bikepacking basics

Ready to explore beyond town?

14. Planning a ride with kids

Kids change the rules — safety and fun matter most.

15. How can I encourage more people to ride?

Community change starts with small acts.

16. How to find a group to ride with

Group riding accelerates skill and motivation.

17. Tips for riding in the dark (visibility & lights)

Dark rides require planning.

18. Commuting by bike: helpful hacks

Little tricks save time and stress.

19. How to stay motivated to ride to work

Motivation fades — build systems, not willpower.

20. Tips for riding in Islamic clothing

Respectful, safe, practical solutions.

21. Tips for riding a bike during Ramadan

Respect the fast and listen to your body.

22. Ride with pride: tips for new LGBTQIA+ riders

Your comfort and safety matter. Enjoy the ride.

23. How-tos: how features work & how to get the most from the tips

Gearing basics (plain language)

Brakes: rim vs disc

Tyre pressure & grip

Setting goals (SMART & simple)

24. Why encouragement matters

Encouragement lowers the threshold to start and stay.

25. Start here — a small plan to get you rolling (4-week starter)

Week 1 — Habit: 10–20 minute ride 3x this week on easy streets, pre-ride check each time.
Week 2 — Confidence: Add a skills session (20 minutes practice: slow riding, figure eights) + one 30 min gentle ride.
Week 3 — Practicality: Commute trial — ride to a nearby shop or café, carry a small bag, practice locking.
Week 4 — Social: Join or plan a casual, slow group ride. Celebrate one month of riding!

A Story About Small Rides, Heavy Minds, and Quiet Victories

It doesn’t begin with Lycra.
It doesn’t begin with carbon wheels, Strava uploads, or an Instagram-ready sunrise photo.

It begins in a small corner of your room.

Where your shoes lie untouched.
Where your bike leans against the wall — not as a trusty companion, but as a silent question.

Will today be the day?

Most days, that question goes unanswered.

Because it’s not fatigue that stops you.

It’s hesitation.

It’s the thought that you’re not “fit enough,” “fast enough,” or “serious enough” to call yourself a cyclist. It’s the quiet shame of knowing your body jiggles when you pedal. It’s the fear of passing someone and hearing them think, What is that person doing here?

But one day — for a reason you can’t explain — you put on your shoes.

Maybe it’s guilt.
Maybe it’s hope.

Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s something quieter.

Not even motivation — just permission.

I don’t have to be amazing. I just have to start.

You touch the handlebars and your pulse rises like an alarm. You swing your leg over the saddle like crossing into enemy territory. Everything feels wrong — your breathing too loud, your grip too tight, your self-awareness burning like a spotlight.

You push down on the pedal.

The bike lurches forward.

The world does not cheer. There is no background music. No crowd. Just the echo of your breath and the faint rattle of your chain.

You pedal down the street.
And immediately — you want to go back.

Your knees complain. Your lungs panic. Your brain begins its cruel commentary.

You’re too heavy for this. Too slow. Look at you — you’re barely moving. Don’t embarrass yourself. Go home.

A car drives by. You flinch as if exposed.

You look at your watch.

Only 2 minutes.

God. How is it only 2 minutes?

You want to quit. You almost do.

But there is one thing — one fragile, flickering thought — that keeps you going.

What if this time… I don’t turn back?

So you don’t.

You keep pedalling. Not because it feels good — but because it feels important.

Because for the first time in a long time, you are not avoiding discomfort. You are riding through it.

The road doesn’t get easier. You don’t suddenly become fast. There is no magical transformation. Just a slow, trembling persistence.

One pedal stroke. Then another.

You reach the end of your block. A small loop. Maybe half a kilometer. Maybe less.

You stop.

You stare at your handlebars and your sweat-dripping arms and realize…

I made it. I didn’t quit.

It is not impressive. It is not record-breaking.

But it is sacred.

Because this was not a ride against distance.

It was a ride against doubt.

You don’t become a cyclist after 100 kilometers.

You become one the first time you refuse to give up.

And that loop — that tiny lap around your neighbourhood — becomes the seed of something quiet but unshakeable.

Tomorrow, you ride again.

And the next day.

Not always confidently. Not always willingly. Some days you still argue with yourself before every start. Some days you stop early. Some days you don’t even start at all.

But more often than before, you do.

And gradually, without fanfare, the roads become familiar. The breathing less violent. The mirror less cruel.

You no longer ride to punish your body.

You ride to thank it.

And every time you finish — no matter how short, slow, or sweaty — you feel something lifting.

Not from your muscles.

From your mind.

The real weight.

The one no one else could see.

Poem: The Quiet Victory

It was never about distance,
Or speed,
Or chasing someone else’s shadow.

It was about that one morning
When quitting would’ve been easy
But you didn’t.

When the world saw nothing—
No medal, no mile, no glory—
But you knew.

You had fought a war
Nobody clapped for,
And still,
You won.

Not by standing on a podium,
But by sitting back in that saddle
When every voice in your head
Begged you not to.

So ride on,
not to be lighter on the scale,
but to be lighter in the soul.

For every slow lap,
Every shaky breath,
Every quiet restart—

Is proof
That healing
Sometimes sounds like
Pedals turning.