The Pacing Conundrum

Well I have been running for a while now (approximately 6 years... I seem to have lost count). Well does that make me a good runner.... well yes... if not good may be decent. 

Today ran my first race as a Pacer Bus... so am I good Pacer... apparently not... as I learnt that today, the harsh way. I have paced friends before but never as a bus. 

Turns out I am better personal pacer than pacing a bus. Today ended up modifying my pace to suit the pace of the people on my bus, totally ignoring my Garmin telling me I am on pace, behind pace and ahead pace (things I am so good at).

The thing is I am bad at planning and getting into the technical minuets of pacing, which in the end I should have done (and that came back to bite my sorry arse). Plus I should have had my watch showing me the time as well as pace. The whole time I was wondering am I going too fast or too slow. My fellow 2:15 Pacer was behind me so does this mean am I going fast (as you well know by now... I overthink everything). When someone asked me if I was in time I just looked at him and said I hoped I was. That proves I wasn’t much of help.

To top it all the route was more confusing than anything that could confuse me (And trust Me I am a confused nut) and went on and on and on (like an Amaron Battery... ting tong (oh come on... I had to get that in)). And then you had volunteers who were confused (can’t blame them... did you see the crowd). One volunteer was asking people... Apke gadi main kitna distance hua hai... 18 phir right jaoo.... poor chappy... made me go what the F... exactly. So many good runners lost their way, missed loops and ran extra. So You see a lot of them got more than what they signed up for, or maybe they were lucky enough to complete their Sunday long run. And then the Start and Finish point had no watch to indicate the time... you didn’t know if that was the Finish point (had a couple of runners ask me that). And then you had people who you would rather give a finger salute, on stage (total useless idiots). Sadly the efforts of all the pacers was not acknowledged, as I thought they would.

Well on the positive side, I had a wonderful time screaming myself hoarse, cheering people on, pushing them, trying to motivate them. I am not sure what was heritage about the Run (or I just didn’t notice it) but I had a good time running with people. I managed to rein my untamed spirit in to run at what I thought was a suitable pace. So in the end I did do what I love doing, running and cheering and screaming, being colourful in my language... in short... being myself. I felt more grateful than the people who came and told me that I was able to push them and help them ( the few who I managed to help). So in the end it made me feel blessed to be able to help. But most importantly made me salute the spirit with which We run with... fat, thin, young, old, able sand differently able, not letting our shortcomings come in our way, making each and every person a winner.

So in the end, would I pace again... well may be, or may be not, the jury is still out on that one. Though I maybe disappointed of not finishing on time and having to pick a faster pace the last couple of kilometres, I realised I have a learning curve in pacing too. Learn from it, soak in the experience and move on. The pacing sometimes needs to be about the Runner, not always about the timing. 

So there you have it... my first experience as a 2:15 Pacer.

Weight on ME: My Life with Weight

Weight and I have a love-hate relationship, we love to hate each other but we can’t stand to be too far from each other for too long. May be that’s why we keep finding our way back to each other, even when we are trying to throw each other off the other scent.

My life with weight is not stuff that inspirations are made up of. I don’t think I had quite that much of weight or a dramatic weight loss to warrant a before and after pic. Nevertheless it is a story worth being told.

I don’t remember if I have ever been able to keep weight off for too long. For every time I thought I had managed to get myself rid of it, there it was, right back with a bang. Like an alcoholic falling off the wagon, I always manage to pile on the weight that I lost.

I have always been conscious about my weight gain and my body image. So you see this is not just a girlie thing. If anybody happened to touch my stomach, let alone mention it in a conversation, it would drive me in a nervous fit  of overthinking (ok that was a bit far fetched), but then that’s the way it was. God forbid if I hit a pothole or a speed bump and felt my belly shake like a bowl full of jelly.

It’s not like I am not capable of loosing weight. I have the passion, I have the drive, I have the determination, just lack the discipline, application and the will to give up on food I need to. I go to the gym diligently and ensure I clock in my run run everyday. I wake up at the unholy hour just to make my lunch and ensure I squeeze in a run or a workout. But somehow the results are short lived and there you have the weight back on. At the advice of my friends (also something I wanted to do for a long time) joined a combined fitness centre.

All this stems from my love for food (as if you didn’t guess by now). My mother and my grandmother subscribed to the thought that in order for a child to look healthy they need to be fed well. So I always was well fed. I have tried to follow various diets, met with some success, but then it was back to being a foodies. Couldn’t keep myself away from it for too long and always found an excuse to eat. I have eaten to an extent that it has made me sick.

Whenever I lost weight, I lost it on my face making me look pale. So my aunt ( may her soul rest in peace) started comparing me to my healthy friends (again trying to avoid the F word... no not that word... you dirty mind), see Ryan and Stephen look so nice and handsome and you look like a marrela murga in front of them, you looked so handsome and nice during your father’s funeral, everyone had their eyes on you (ya right, people attended my father’s funeral to look at me). Family friends and old neighbours would constantly ask me if I was sick or keeping well, eating well (maybe they thought I was malnourished).

I joined the gym because I wanted to join the fashion world, wanted to model (do I hear some snickering? But then can’t blame anyone for that, me and model, the thought seems preposterous, but you could call if the Bold and Beautiful effect). 

Always wanted and still do, a good physique, everything included, like those models and fitness models that your see on Instagram and in your Gym, but Kya Kare, yeh kambakt tummy fat aur weight kam nahin hota hain. For me loosing weight is inversely proportionate to gaining weight. It will take me ages to loose it but few minutes to gain it.

But you know what, no matter how difficult it may seem and I will never give up trying. I may have passed the age for my dream, but hey I can always try and look good. Taking inspirations from my friends to stay fit. So no matter what I will always try to get better of my weight, while not forsaking my good.

My Love... My Drug... My Beautiful Trauma

The first time I saw you

Waiting for me to arrive

But I stood at a distance 

Observing the person 

Who had come to meet me

Fascinated by the simplicity 

Fascinated by the innocence 

Not that I was disappointed 

Nor was I appalled 

I was here to meet someone

With no prospect of forming 

Any sort of bond

Or that was what I told myself 

So as I sat across you

Listening to what you had to say

Couldn’t help feel how different we were

A total opposite to each other

But yet here we were

Two souls from different strata of society

Poles apart, as common as

Chalk and cheese

Your story fascinated me

And in the most strangest way

could related to it

Saw myself in your place

A common thread 

That would end up binding us

Like the universe 

plotting to bring us together 

To fill in the gaps that we had in life

So though sparks didn’t fly 

At that first meeting ,

Even though we had been 

chatting for long

We were drawn to each other

Kindred spirits

Two lonely souls that 

Walked the world

Wanting to be loved 

As much we had loved

Trying to understand 

As much as we longed 

To be understood 

To make sense of things and people

Who made no sense to us

And so what started off

As a simple friendship 

Blossomed into something more deeper

Something more beautiful 

We met clandestinely 

Away from the prying eyes of the world

Cause the world would never

Understand us or even make an attempt

So we met under the moonlit skies

Only the stars and the moon 

To light our way

Holding on to each other

In sweet embrace

Breaking up at the slight sign 

of life or noise

For the fear of being caught

• But this fear made the moment 

Even more passionate

The fruits of forbidden love

We had each other

To keep us safe and warm

Passion burning bright

Keeping the cold and the world at bay

Every touch, every caress 

Brought a feeling of elation with it

Making us even more bold

Never wanting to come out 

Of the embrace, of the locked lips

Or leave each other

But then life needs to be lived

We needed to move on but not apart

Just distance of a few hundred miles

To be added between us

I promised myself not long and pine

And just keep on smiling and living

Cause I know what happens

Happens for the best

May not be your best 

For the best of others

But the heart wants what the heart wants

And so even though you promised yourself 

Your heart overrules that

Making you break the promise 

You made to yourself

You begin to miss and pine

Till it begins to hurt, begins to ache

A beautiful trauma that you can’t escape

Your love, like a drug

Has got me addicted 

Got me hooked on to you

You have infected my very being

Making me miss you till it hurts

And some how I don’t think 

I can ever escape the grasp

Of this addiction, of this fox

Of the spell you have casted on me

I don’t think I even want to come out of it

Your are like wine

That has intoxicated my being

You taste a bit bitter 

You taste so sweet

making me want more and more of you

Making me long for you

I could have a case of your 

But I would still be on my feet

Wanting more, longing for more

Something that will never go

Till I am by your side

And even though

I have managed to calm

This wild, untamed heart

I know it will beat for you

Forever more

We need a little Christmas

Well now that another Diwali has come and gone, and the very last firework has sputtered and died, its time to move on to the next celebration.

So next we have Halloween, or time for kids to go on a sugar rush. But then this so West and some political or religious zealot may fin a way of opposing it. How can we encourage our kids to dress up like ghost and ghouls and French maids and fruits, this so not our culture, they may say ( to think about it, I don’t think they even know what their culture is). So they will oppose it vehemently, how could we dare to expose our children to such an unhealthy and sinful celebration.

Then you have the Day of the Dead or Día de Muertos (in Mexican). In India we have All Souls Day, but it’s not a day which we celebrate, it’s a day when you pray for the souls of the faithful departed and visit graves and cemeteries, not a place where you will celebrate. 

So finally you have the one, the only Christmas left, woot woot!!! Well it’s not that I think less of other festivals, but then Christmas is Christmas. At Christmas you don’t see anyone closing their ears in fear, turn deaf from the loud noise, sputter from all the pollution, or runaway from people chasing you with colours, you don’t see animals shake in fear. The only time you may close your ears during Christmas is when someone is B flat and C sharp.

You may think me crazy to get all excited about Christmas, after all it’s just two months to Christmas Eve or Christmas Day (depending on when I get this write up published). But then there’s this nip in the air that’s making me feel a lot like Christmas and make long for it to come soon.

Considering that the world has a trump sized problem and we have gone no more to NaMo, we certainly could do with a little cheering, a little joyful cheer that Christmas brings. So considering that there’s two months to Christmas, it’s time to warm up and flex those vocal chords cause it’s time to do some Carolling. You may or may not believe in him, but it is never to too late to get on Santa’s Nice list and get your wish list ready for him (come on, who doesn’t like presents, even though you know the truth).

So can’t hardly wait for Advent and start playing carols, to buy greeting cards and write and post them (let’s face it, sending greeting cards is way better than text messages). To decide if you would wear a suit, a tux, or bandgala for Christmas. To start to prepare sweets and indulge yourself .

And even though it may be two months away you can’t hardly wait. The spirit has already set in and you have been humming carols, under your breath, as pass street lights and stop lights and shopper with their treasure.

Though you may argue that’s this is all materialistic, and not the true meaning of Christmas, but then we need to remember that this helps to get the spirit in in the first place and keeping us in high spiritr

So we need a little Christmas right this very minute, candles in the window, carols at the spin it, we need a little Christmas now.

The Fighter

There’s is this little chap

That you may very well know

Who is always eager for some action

Always up for a fight 

Throw him in an arena

And he will fight a good fight

Giving up is not something he knows

Failure is not a word in his dictionary

When push comes to shoves

He will be there for you

To fight for your honour

Your champion in battle

But he’s no knight in shining armour

And you are no damsel in distress 

Well maybe a fool 

Who’s unnecessarily stressed

He’ll be there for you

When you need him the most

Your support and your strength 

He’ll never let you go

Nor will he let you down

Always there to catch you when you fall

A shoulder to cry on

Someone to console you

Someone who believes in you

When the chips are down

And all seems lost

He will be there to egg you on

Though the world may seem against you and even give up on you

He will always be there 

By your side, your friend and guide

He will never judge you

Or try to rearrange you

He will never forsake you

Nor will he move away from you

He will always be there for you

Patient and strong

Though he may not comply

To your every whims and fancies

He will always do what’s best for you

Though he’s a fighter

He’s never violent 

A tender caring person is he 

The fight he fights leaves no wound

Nor does it leave anyone

Bloodied And battered 

He’s no coward, 

He will fight to the very end

But sometimes he’s subdued 

Chained by our actions and emotions

Caged in the prisons of beliefs

Release him and no challenge 

will be too great

No problem unsolvable 

No mountain unsurmountable

He knows no fear

And inspires the same in you

He may at times 

Be battered and bruised

Worn down the ways of life

But no matter how he may be

Or the situation may be

He will never let you down

He’s a fighter

And he will fight to very end

A little fighter that lives in you and me

For all eternity 

The Great Corporate Cost Cutting: Office Office ki Story

Let me start by saying this, this write up is a pure work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person or thing, is purely coincidental, that’s right, purely coincidental.

That said, here we go. Once a upon a time, in the not so distant past, in a galaxy not so far, far away, in fact not far at all, it is our very own galaxy, there was an organisation that said that its employees mattered as much as it laid emphasis on results. Employees were greeted with lemon drops at the reception, there were jars of biscuits on every table in the canteen and in the pantry. There were dustbins under every table, incidentally there was sufficient space between workstations, tissue paper in the washroom, beside the toilet rolls in every cubicles.

Then one day, the sweets at the reception disappeared, without any explanation. Or may be fthe Powers to Be just didn’t want the employees to have a sugar rush, or even diabetes, after all they played so much of Candy Crush.

It was noticed that employees spent more time in the canteen and pantry than what they spent at their desk, munching on biscuits and sipping on tea or coffee and busy in their daily gossip, much to the annoyance of the canteen caterers, as no one ordered much or anything. So slowly and steadily the jars disappeared, one-by-one, cause they cost the organisation precious money (how else would they find ways of funding the Powers to Be’s European and South American sojourn) and precious project hours. The only way to get people back to their desk would be to remove the very reason that caused the waste of time.

Now the organisation began to think Green, or they just was getting into Hulk mode or some Martian creature. It all started with the segregation of waste. But I am not sure if the employees understood what waste segregation as you still found them throwing tissues in the dustbins meant for dry plastic and wet waste. Maybe they just had problem reading, or couldn’t read, or didn’t care. 

Then one day, there were no dustbins below each desk, just two pair of dustbins at either end, much to the surprise and annoyance of all. Maybe, just maybe, they just wanted the employees to get off their butts and walk, rather than spending hours chained to their seats with the only time they got up was when nature called or when some hot juicy gossip called to be shared. 

The next endeavour to be environmentally conscious was a day when they kept no tissues (thankfully this was not applicable to the toilet rolls), in order to save trees, appear green, save tissue papers and in turn save money (which I guess was the motive from the get-go), the first Friday of every month (seemed like a very Catholic thing). But then they removed the tissues from washrooms altogether (again, thankfully not toilet paper rolls) and replaced them with dryers which sounded like the engines of the Boeing 747 (I may be over exaggerating, then I could also be under exaggerating). So to save trees they decided to consume more electricity and make people spend more time trying to get their hands dry hoping at the same time they didn’t go deaf. But this didn’t stop the process of having to take a print out and then scan it whenever they needed to claim.

Then one day, there was an imbalance in the employees to seat ratio, and since the concept of working from home was a privilege (unless you had the blessings or was the powers to be). So the higher powers decided to densify the workspace, their way of bringing employees closer. So you could just turn and literally be in your neighbour’s workspace.

The organisation then decided to be young, fresh and appealing, so they went in for a makeover. More brighter colours were added to the colour pallets, the font style changed to Comic Sans or Script (not very good at font style you see) and the icon shifted for left to right, making the logo appear more like a doodle. But then no matter how much young appealing you try to be, how much plastic surgeries and Botox shots you may take (isn’t that in the end what rebranding is all about), if you don’t change the way you behave, the way you think, your treatment of employees, who you are, all this makeover amounts to naught. Like a TV channel that constantly keeps rebranding itself without the thought of updating its content and in the end appearing out of date and not in step with the present. So if you don’t change your way of thinking, then it would be a case of boodhi godhi Lal lagaam. 

Well there you have it, the great corporate cost cutting story. It is something that may have happened to me and could happen to you.

P.S. Heard that the organisation has started to switch the AC off every noon (or reduce the temperature)... I shudder at the thought of what this could lead to... sweaty sleepy self.

Dear Diwali - Why I don’t like the way you are celebrated nowadays

Dear Diwali, When did you go from being the festival of lights to the festival of noise and sound? From my limited knowledge of the Ramayan, from what I learnt from friends, teachers and television, the people of Ayodhya welcomed Ram, Sita and Laxman from exile with Aarti and lights, never knew they lit crackers too. Was crackers invented at the time? So how did crackers become a part of tradition?

I guess this something that we men do, take something, commercialise it and give it a whole different outlook. Just like Christmas Trees and Santa Claus have nothing to do with the birth of Christ, just a commercial symbol of the festival. So how does crackers fit into the whole scheme of Diwali?

Diwali used to be a festival I looked forward to, after all it was the second longest vacation after summer, but now it is more of a headache and dread thanks to the noise and pollution that ensues with it, making me dislike what I once liked.

Diwali meant lanterns and lights, Diyas that banished away the darkness and lit up the darkest of nights. The beautiful, colourful rangoli that adorned the entrance of every house, along with the a beautiful kandeel welcoming you in. And not to forget the delicious sweets and snacks, karanji, besan and rawa laddoos, the chackli, Shankarpalli and poha and chivda, invariably leaving my poor weak stomach upset and in pain from my own over indulgence. By I never did mind it.

We have every right to celebrate our festivals, but it should not come at the grievance or even harm to others. So while we are busy lighting crackers think about the harm the smoke and noise causes to the elderly, those with breathing problem and other severe ailments and animals. We can’t be that selfish.

So why when a ban is called for on crackers, a communal hue is given to it, saying that only a particular religion is being targeted, an age old custom is being targeted, asking for a call on ban for on festive representations of other religions. 

We can always help our children understand that Christmas is more than Santa and Christmas trees and presents, but then would they be willing to do the same with theirs? Also, Christmas trees and Santa Clauses have never harmed nobody, in fact they bring peace and joy and happiness.  They may argue that this is just a “one day” celebration (yeah right), but in that one day more harm is caused than even weeks.

I really wished these so call celebrants of yours minded what they said. They need to be careful cause invariably they are fanning the communal fires and spreading hatred.

Dear Diwali, I don’t hate, not one bit, I just hate the way people have begun to celebrate you. The world is filled photons and neutrons and morons and then some more. And yes morons will never understand the harm that they are causing. Sometimes I wished they swapped places with the elderly and animals so that they may get a first hand experience of nuisance they cause.

We all have the freedom to celebrate our festivals the way they were meant to be. But let us learn to celebrate it responsibly that our senseless joy becomes a source of pain to others.  I truly wish that someday soon, these morons see the futility and selfishness of their celebration, and mend their way.... I hope really soon.

Breaking the Mould... shattering Stereotypes

What’s masculine; What’s feminine? What is being butch and what is being effeminate? What is manly, what is unmanly? Who gets to decide these distinctions, these characteristics, these stereotypes?  Who decides these standards and definitions of how things should be and what we should conform to?

At some point we try to toe this so called created lines, these standards. But would we be abnormal if we failed match up to them or live up to them, or we just didn’t want to be these stereotypes.

They say that the traditional male archetype is that of the hunter, the protector, the breadwinner, whereas as a woman is the nurturer, the caregiver. But what if these lines of differentiation’s were blurred, surely some fragile egos would get bruised. But then we are living in an ever changing world where there is a constant role swap and these lines are constantly blurring.

So what if we don’t identify to these set of rules, would that make us less masculine. In a world where we are encouraged to be ourselves, would trying to walk down a different path make us weird? Who gets to decide what we become, what we choose to do with our lives, other than ourselves? But somewhere in the back of our heads  there are these voices tormenting us, mocking us, tell us this so unmanly.

I knew of a father who thought it was unbecoming of his son because he showed no interest in sports like football and cricket, in fact hated with of them, and was more adept to household chores. 

I knew of friend who gave advise to his friend that when you marry you need to show the lady who is the boss of the house, something his mother.

What makes you man? Drinking beer, smoking, staring at woman, taking the lead, having a fragile ego? What if you didn’t do all these things, would this makes me less a man? Remember there’s more to a lady than just legs, breast, ass, as a there more to man than just his abs and chest, biceps and butt. If you like those, you can always have chicken. 

We may be from a mould, but what goes into the mould is all us. It is upto us to live the life we the way we were meant to live. The world may find it difficult to accept us, may find us a difficult pill to swallow, if we do not confirm to the traditions and rules they set. They may even ostracise us, mock us, call us names, look down up on us and pity us. Remember, it is their problem. 

What we need is an acceptance of ourselves, this who we are, perfect in our imperfections. But not resigning to that fact, but always striving to empower ourselves to strive to be better.

A lady may step out of the boundaries that society sets for her, or a man may step into a domain that society says it ain’t a man’s world. Break the mould and shatter the stereotypes. 

We live in a mad world... things can be funny... things can be strange... but then no matter what be you... the you that were you are meant to be... others things will fall into place.