becak, becak, coba bawa saya...

It was just like another afternoon when the loud speaker of mosque calls its people; remained them to take a break from their activities for a moment to thanks to the Almighty. An old man with his tumbled clothes covered his body that is eaten by the time, rode his becak, passing by in front of my house. I am proud with his spirit that is not lasted by the time in cycling his becak, taking people to their destination. The wrinkle on his face was contrasted with the color of his becak. A small metal cart that is lead by the three wheels was painted red with colorful flowers as the ornament and blue on the other side with the picture of a beach. He did not care with the sun that burnt his skin or the smoky air from the cars and motorbikes that poisoning his lungs. He smiled under the morning sunshine, racing with the speed of buses. He did not care that the modernity will sweep away his existence. He is sure that the power of becaks will concord the heart of every people, for its environment friendly and his very own generosity in pedaling the wheels.