How Green is my City: Save Aarey

Have you ever ridden in Aarey??? Have you ever run in Aarey??? Have your ever breathe the air in Aarey???

Aarey with its slopes and twists and turns offers challenges to runners and riders alike. If slopes are your thing and you love a challenge, then Aarey is the place for you. Running up the slope can fill you with breathless exhilaration. The cool breeze on your face, fills your lungs with air so pure that running up and down can be quite orgasmic.

The air in Aarey is pure and refreshing, unlike any place in Mumbai, apart from the Borivali National Park. It refreshes you and fills your heart and soul with unbridled joy. And the smell from the tabelas just adds to it, you don’t even mind it.

Everywhere you look you see Green foliage, the colour that symbolises growth, harmony, freshness and fertility, with a strong emotional correspondence to safety. No wonder Aarey is called the Green Lung of the city. 

Sadly the Green that our politicians and builders see is the Green of Greed and envy. Under the pretext of development they are looking at making the most money they can from land grabbing. Building a car shed is just an excuse for their ulterior motive. Overheard that they want to make a zoo in Aarey. If they can’t even take care of the existing Jijamata Udayan, which is in a sad condition, how will they look after another zoo.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for development, but let not development come at the cost of our health and future. The BMC has put signage saying “Green Mumbai Clean Mumbai”. Sadly when you keep felling trees for any frivolous reasons then where will the Green be in Mumbai. At this rate there may come a situation where the only tree you would see would be in a tree museum and you would need to pay to see them.

Today it may be just be a patch of land, but this could be start of the land grab. Neither Aarey nor Sanjay Gandhi National Park is safe from the scrupulous greed of man. 

We may complain about animal attacks, but if we are encroaching their territory and cutting off their food supply, then where should they go? Just like man, when he has used up the resources of one place, moves to the next place, or when they move to greener pastures, these animals are doing just that. 

I know of many groups, many friends who are involved in these groups, who are in the fight to Save Aarey, fighting the good fight, organising peaceful protest, mobilising people through social media and through WhatsApp groups, organising runs, discussion forums and talks, educating people, trying to awaken people to the importance of having tree cover, the importance of Aarey to Mumbai. Hopefully we can awaken to their effort. We don’t want our future generations to ask us how Green was our city.

We all need to come together to do our bit not just to Save Aarey or the trees, but to save our future. We are already experiencing the effects of global warming, preventing the destruction of our forest lands would be a step in the right direction. 

We need to Save Aarey for better, Green future.

A Tale of Love Eternal

He saw her every night, the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. Even her blemishes just added to her alluring beauty. He could just stare and admire her beauty but could not find it in him to approach her. Her radiant beauty lit up the world around her. He knew she had many suitors and admirers, men who have have written sonnets and ballads about her beauty, women who have longed to see her. But every time he made an attempt to meet her she just went on her way.

She stared at him each day, enamoured by the strength, the power which he radiated. He stood strong and proud, burning bright for all to see. People cowered before him, worshipped him. He shone bright and magnificent. He radiated a warmth, but anger him he could burn them with just a glance. She felt drawn to him, like a moth takes to a flame. But she was afraid of being burned by him, being spurned by him, cause he was all that she was not. But still she loved him with all her heart.

They were two souls that enamoured by each other, in love with each other, destined to be kept apart, as night is with day. But still they hoped that one day their paths would cross. His love made him burn even more brightly and She basked in the light which he radiated.

Then one day, when she was new and he continued to burn bright, their paths did cross, and for those few moments they spoke to their heart’s content without much uttering a word. They promised each other that though they would go their separate ways they would make a point to meet at least twice a year, even if it was a short while, forgetting the things around them and being what they wanted to be, in love with each other.

DNF: A Tale of not Finishing what You Started

You win some... and the you learn some... you never ever loose.

Flashback to third Sunday of January, Peddar Road, struggling with cramps and tightened muscles, unable to run up that slope, I muttered to myself, never ever would I attempt the full marathon at Mumbai again.

Flash forward to sometime in August, convinced by a friend and fellow Runner, once again signed up for the full at Mumbai. Come December, had managed around only two 30 plus kilometres. Finally in January finished my third 30 plus kilometres run.

Two days before D-day, greedily gobbled a couple of five stars that a friend/colleague had got on the pretext of carb loading (to hide my weakness for chocolates). What followed was just an outcome of the gobbling.

A day before race day tried to keep myself light and not eat much, but then what was done was done, no matter how much you try to keep yourself light you will always be too light (after sometime I felt like a gas balloon).

The nocturnal visits to the loo should have been good indications I needed to sit this one and join my friends at the cheerzone, but then you have your Male bravado that makes you think that you can do it and it would be a great achievement. So decided to go ahead and run (much to the charging of my mum... on hindsight... Mother knows best).

The morning was nice and cool and started off strong, thanks to my buddy Dylan. At the back of my head there was a voice whispering in ears (don’t really hear voices... or do I... i solemnly swear I am not crazy) that I had this one the bag and who knows even a personal best could be (talk about wishful thinking).

So thanks to Dylan, went pretty strong till the 16th km. But after there was a something not quite right. Felt something weird and lightheaded, so began to walk, asking Dylan to move on. Walking made me feel like a man returning home after a night of debauchery, a badly hung man (chocolate hangover is what you could call it). 

So groggily walked till I managed to find an aide station with a doctor. On the way had many runners, some known friends, some unknown friends, asking me if I am ok or need any assistance, and walk to the side of the road so as to avoid having runners running into me (who said runners have only their PBs on their mind).

So at the Aid station, was attended by this  pretty Doctor (yes Sam she was pretty) who gave me so much ORSL and water to drink (enough for me to never want to consume it again... advantage Enerzal and Fast and Up) to help to get my pulse rate back to normal and rehydrate myself. 

So lay there, drinking ORSL and water and seeing the volunteers and physios struggle to tend the runners as they suffered strains, aches and pains, trying to be as patient as they possibly could be. So after a good 20 minutes (or was it, I was too light headed to notice) she gave discharge (if I can say so) and warned me to walk to the finish line and not to run.

Setting out I realised I had a good 27 kms more to go and the sun was out and the weather was getting warmer. So with a heavy heart and light head, decided to call it a day (cause it was just not my day). Called my friends for help (cause this wise man didn’t carry any cash with him) who came to my rescue and dropped me off at Mahalaxmi, from where I made my way back to the Holding Area to get my bag with a bruised ego and a broken heart but no way with my legs between my tail, or is it tail between my legs, so confused, blame it on the light headedness.

Seeing all the runners with their medals made feel a stab of guilt if i just gave up without giving it my all. It made me want to go on a social media detox, to go and live under a rock for the next couple of days. But then I told myself discretion is better part of valour, I will always bounce back, come back stronger, there will always be a next time (and all the things you tell yourself to pacify your ego).

The day thought me a very important lesson, eating 5 Stars is not form of a carb loading and I have a bad weakness for chocolates (as if someone needed to tell me this), and no matter how well you train, what you eat a day before can... pure kiye karye pe pani dal sakta hain (not bad for a non-Hindi speaker).

P.S.: Got to thank my friends and fellow runners who stopped by to check on me while I groggily made my way, and even called and messaged after the race. 

To the pretty Doctor (yes sam I am thanking her) who tended to me and got me back in my feet, and the entire volunteering team.

Lastly, definitely not the least, the two angelic friends who came to my rescue, Dee and Jenn, thank you so much, you guys know you’re the best.

Finally, the race gave two medals, one for you and the other for the person who inspires you. As I didn’t complete my run, I didn’t deserve my medal, so I didn’t collect either medals. But Sharad Chaturvedi the inspiration medal was for you, cause you have and will always inspire me.

We are the Champions

I can run for miles and miles

With my head held up high 

I will be standing at that finish line

Two hands in the air, I’m a champion

I am Fighter not a quitter

I can run right till the end

To completed what I started

I have been training all year

And now the day is near

I am invincible, unstoppable, unbreakable

You may not know my name

But I am a champion

I will run at my own pace

To do my best to complete the race

I am running a marathon

Not a sprint from start to end

It doesn’t matter what’s the weather

I will run in whatever weather

 There’s no stopping me

Keeping away from the finish line

That’s where you’ll see me with a smile

I may suffer cramps or strains

I will stretch and start again

You may try to knock me down

But I’ll get up again

Cause I am a champion

 And there’s no denying that

We all are champions

It’s a Wonderful After Life

They say when you die your whole life flashes in front of your eyes. So where was my showreel? Surely I had something to show for the life I have lived. It’s been how long since I passed away, crossed over to the other side, no more, gone to heaven, definitely not sleeping with the fishes, or whatever you may want to call it. Wow, it’s whole five minutes only, but it seems like it has been hours. Time seems to go by so slowly in the after life. Wow you can see life in slow motion.

Anyway, that can happen later, I am in no hurry to see my showreel, after all I ain’t going anywhere. But where’s the bright light that will guide me? Strange, haven’t seen any dead people, where are my fellow travellers in the afterlife? Now I can finally say, I can see dead people, but then I am one of them too. Strange how life can change in a matter of seconds.

Well, this wait is quite excruciating, more excruciating than waiting for death. Don’t you think I had enough and now I deserve rest? Well seeing all these people mourning my passing seems to dampening the moment. There’s nothing you can do, I know... 

when I am gone

When I am gone

You’re going to miss me when I am gone

You’re going miss by my hair

You’re going to miss Me everywhere 

You’re going to miss me when I am gone

I know it’s a difficult moment, it’s never easy saying goodbye, especially when it comes to someone you love and can’t do without, a void that you can’t fill, but...

Kiss me and smile for me

Please don’t shed a tear for me

Cause then you’ll never be able

To let me go

Cause I am leaving on my way to heaven

Don’t think I’ll ever be back again

Oh babe, I have to go

Wow, looks like death has made me quite the creative person. Oh well, I have to wait till I get the instruction text (like we do in elearning). So might as well as make the most of this time.

What’s this, i have received a ping here, quite impressive reception in the after life (by the way, where exactly is here?) so according to this message I can only get Mukti if my loved my loved ones release me, in short I am going to be here for quite a while. 

Come on people, I’ve lived a full but not quite a long life, but whatever life I have lived I have lived the life the way I want to, the life I was meant to live. So please don’t be selfish and....

Please release me, let me go

I am not living anymore

Please release and let me

Go on my way to heaven

Wow, I must say Death is bringing out the creative best in me. I swear I can script Afterlife: the Musical. Anyway till then I will spend my time doing Nonsensical l. 

Well for starter, nothing is hidden once you’re dead, all secrets will be known, and I am not talking my own. No secrets or thoughts shall remain hidden. 

The thing I’ve seen and heard makes me wish there was someone who I could share this juicy gossip with. Like those gossipy aunties who have juicy gossips but no one to share it with. There’s so much to share but no one to share it with. But then hearing about them has not only got me astonished but it has also kept me entertained.

As entertaining as it  is to hear the thoughts of others and see how they behave (which so often is opposite to what they are thinking, such hypocrites I say) what’s taking it so long to get my turn to meet my maker, to meet St Peter at the Pearly Gates. I have not seen a single soul, literally, since I’ve passed, apart from mourners. Where are all the souls gone?

Woooh what’s happening, why am I being pulled back to my body? What’s happening? Where am I? Who are you? What do you mean I was in surgery and now I am in recovery? Ain’t I dead? Why are you laughing? You mean to say I was under anaesthetics, sedated.

So I have been hallucinating the whole while. Oh dang! So it’s back to living and being alive.

The Woman with the bright pink shoes

He spied her from a distance, she in her racerback vest and floral shorts, whose colour kept changing with the season, but always in her bright pink shoes. She was a woman, not a girl, not a lady, but a woman, the best word to describe her. Tall, slender and athletic, with hair that was always tied in ponytail, a dusky beauty. Her racerback vest showed off her toned back, arms and shoulders, her slender waist and those washboard abs. But her most distinct feature was her legs that seemed to go on for miles and miles, only to end in those bright pink shoes. 

Unperturbed by the stares that she usually got from passerby, some envious, others lecherous, she went about with her warm up. Surely there’s a God up there, he thought, cause only a God could create  someone so beautiful. He continued to stare in her direction, not lustily, just admiring God’s creation.

His greyish hair was already matted with sweat and there were beads his forehead. He was already warmed up and ready to go, from the distance he had already covered. He could either make haste and join her, or take his time and take in the moment. 

He remembered those initial days when they just passed each other, while on their respective morning runs, She a young beautiful woman, running at her pace, he an old man, with more silver hair than he could count, running at a pace than most men of his age (that’s if they ever ran), in his bright neon tees. Soon they began to acknowledge each other with a smile and a wave and the occasional thumbs up. Now as and when possible they ran together, two running souls. He never asked her name or what she did, nor did she seem interested in finding out more about him. For him she would always  be the Woman with the bright Pink Shoes.

“Your pace or mine?” She said, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Surprise me!” He said but secretly hoping she ran at his pace as that would be comfortable for him, something that he would never acknowledge, call it the male bravado.

So off they went, running in the light drizzle. He knew he would be the envy of those who saw them, some even passing judgement without truly knowing. But he didn’t care, people may never understand that they were running souls, enjoying each other’s company, nothing more, nothing else.

Not wanting to slow her down, he tried his best to keep pace with her. Occasionally she realised this and slowed down to a comfortable pace but then again gradually increase her  pace again. Not a single word was spoken between them, they only spoke with each other in gesture.

He was grateful for her company, for running with a person of his age when she could have been easily be running at a much faster pace, more suitable to someone of her capability. He was grateful for the drizzle cause it hid the tears that welled in his eyes. He didn’t want her to see it but secretly knew that she understood how grateful he was to her.

And just like that their run came to an end after they had covered their set distance. After cooling down and some stretches, they said their goodbyes and greetings for the day they went off to their mundane life. He stood there, looking in her direction, as those long slender legs of the woman in the bright pink shoes disappeared into the the day.

LMR - Last Minute Running

This Sunday morning felt like being back at school doing some last minute cramming before that all important paper, trying to revise as much as possible and hoping against  hope to remember all that you crammed. Only this time that important paper is the Mumbai Marathon and the last minute cramming is the last long run before you should ideally begin your tapering (of which I know nothing).

So after the customary group picture And showing Sam all the love we could, and keeping a moment of silence honouring the memory of our dearest Raviji, it was off to run on a cold January morning. Well not quite off, there was still some last minutes instructions and handover to do. So by the time I began my run most of the runners and volunteers had dispersed. 

The weather was nice and cold, ideal for running (just praying to the weather Gods to keep the weather the same till after the 21st). But then there was the problem of the popping out handsfree that just refuse to sit in the ear, and a jack that was loose. So whenever I tried to put my phone in my water belt, it would come lose and the music would stop, much to my annoyance as I run with music which helps to distract me from the torture and effort of a long run. So after some anxious frustrating moments, and almost a km, finally managed to get it right and pick the pace.

So off I went at a steady pace, a bit better than an easy pace, cheering and encouraging and greeting my fellow runners. I even surprised myself at the pace that I had managed. Now I must admit that very often I don’t quite know the people who greet me. I know them by face and not by name. It’s not that I am a proudy, I just blame it on the fading grey cells that make it difficult to remember names. But one thing I do remember are faces and always happy to see the familiar ones as well as the new ones too.

Wanting to do 30 plus kms (as I said this would be my last long prep before TMM... though I miss calling it SCMM), decided to take Malabar Hill, after Peddar Road, instead of going down Babulnath (and after seeing the state of the Babulnath Road, I am glad to have taken that detour).

After doing Peddar Road, running up a constant slope of Malabar Hill caused my poor legs to scream (you see slopes are bette noire but I still run up them). “Rodman, what have we done to you? How have we offended you? Answer us!” They seemed to wail, to which my Head responded, “abhe nautanki sala, jyada natak mat kar, chup chap bhag” (I swear sometimes I do think in Hindi ).

So without any further grumbling, continued the climb. Seeing many runners go the other way got me a bit worried if I was going the right way, or would I have to take a u-turn and return the way I had come. Somehow managed to calm a over-hyper mind and continue on past those posh Walkeshwar localities.

Finally came to a turn, a road leading down and met a familiars face in Sukhi who was very sukhily going about his run at a brisk pace. So after very enthusiastically waving at each other it was off towards Girgaum Chowpatty. 

Seeing the sunrise, with its reflection on the wet shore, caused me to reach for my mobile and capture the world as I saw it, only to be irked by the earlier ear bud situation. So out of frustration took my phone in hand and continued on my run.

Now part of the road from NCPA to Chowpatty was kept for cyclist, but it was now besieged by runners, especially the ones with their gulabi tees, who forever I shall call gulabos. Now the gulabos were behaving quite prickly and not easily conceding way to other runners. Even the poor cyclist, for whom the lane was created, had to ride on the road. Running among the gulabos made me feel like a bee in the sea of gulab (how I wish I could have stung some).

Somehow managed to wade through the gulabos and made way to NCPA. On the way greeted some more runners (some of whom are so contagious with their enthusiasm), clicked selfies and continued to wade through the gulabos. 

Reaching NCPA quickly gulped water and some Fast and Up at the final water station and once more made my way to Wilson’s College with the knowledge that I still had six more kilometres to go. 

Though the sun was out, the weather was still quite chilly, or was it cold or cool, well whatever, the weather was nice and pleasant, and the gulabos were slowly being guided towards Fountain side (or I assumed that’s where they were heading to). For my good luck the water station at Wilson’s was still open. So once again hydrating myself and a brief chat, it was return journey to NCPA.

By now my limbs began to grumble. Though they seemed to refrain from wailing for the fear of being fatkoofied by the Head once more. But they we solely tightening. So had to walk, crawl or do anything, but I was determined to get to that elusive 30 kms. Finally reached NCPA  right in time for the photo op with the volunteers. Sat down on the pavement and just wanted to be there unless some got a big enough spatula to pick off the pavement.

Nike Run Club said I had completed 32 km in 2:56 where as Garmin gave a similar distance for 3:06 ( as NRC pauses when you stop running/moving). Whatever the time may have been I was glad to get that distance under my belt, right in time for the Mumbai Marathon.So breathed a sigh of relief for finally squeezing in a 30 plus run, bringing a sense in confidence that now I was ready to face the 42. The only hope that the weather Gods held up their end of the bargain and the weather didn’t do a 360 just before race day.

Vacation Diaries - Part VII: Khob Khun Kha (Thank you)

“.. and now the end is near

I’ve travelled each and every highway

But more, much more than this

I did it my way...”

That’s the kind of the feeling that is going through my head as the Thailand experience draws to an end. And so it’s time to leave foreign shores and return home, back to the life that I’ve known, back to the grind.

Adventure I’ve had many, experiences plenty, to hold on to for a lifetime, that I will keep close to my heart and treasure forever. 

Bangkok, Phuket, Pattaya, thank you for the experience, thank you for the memories. Thank you for the sights and monuments that left us in awe, that we couldn’t stop marvelling at, not to forget the beautiful beaches, the feeling of serenity, the feeling of bliss. Thank you for your hospitality. We came, we saw, we marvelled, we felt, we tasted, we enjoyed. 

And so as we say farewell, there’s this bitter sweet feeling. Sweet cause your returning back to a place you are familiar, you love, you call Home. Bitter cause it’s the end of your vacation and back to the daily grind.

So till then thank you Thailand for the experience. So long, farewell.... Khob Khun Kha.

Vacation Diaries - Part VI: The Tourist

Be a tourist, and that will be the best way you will see the city. Since coming to Thailand I have run on the beach of Patong and the promenade of Jomtein, did snorkelled in the waters of Phi Phi, island hopped, rode tuk-tuks, shopped at Weekend markets, stayed in a Hostel, but never truly became a tourist and seen the sights the city has to offer. 

All that changed on the last day at Bangkok. Though I still managed to get in a run (actually done one run in each of the cities which we stayed), and on a whim joined my friend in taking in the sights of the city. And to think of it, I am glad I decided to that, cause what we saw took out breath away, left us awed and made use marvel.

We visited the Wat Arun temple, or the Temple of Dawn, rode the ferry on the Chao Phraya river, visited the Grand Palace, saw the sleeping Buddha at Wat Pho, again took a ferry all the way to Asiatique (thanks to the suggestion of my Parag and Ajit), had pizza and beer (my first in almost a decade), and rode the Ferris wheel.

Each location, each place, each sight, was so beautiful that words wouldn’t do justice to what the eyes saw. The architectures, the colours, the paintings, the statues, the sights, were so beautiful, so gorgeous, left you marvelling at the details that went into making them, putting it together, left you wondering how was this possible. Also full credit goes to the people who maintain it, the golds, the reds, the greens, the marble, shone radiantly even after all these years in the sun. Inspite of all this you have the feeling of peace especially in the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, at the Grand Palace, it was so beautiful and serene, surrounded by walls and ceilings of paintings. We even got blessed at Wat Pho from a monk who clearing enjoying blessing people with a wet broom, as much as the people who were getting blessed.

On a fun part, although I wore acceptable jeans, for the heck of it picked up, what I call harem pants, and changed in public and wore it. So although it clashed with my shirt, it was awesome and airy.

Riding the river was an experience in itself.  Seeing the other boats speed by and the architecture on either banks of the river, and then getting to see the beautiful setting sun, was something I am going to take with me for the rest of my life.

They say you come to Bangkok to party, to get laid, but then these are things you can do in Mumbai itself (although I admit that I am not comfortable and never like parties), but taking the sights and experiences that the city has to offer is different thing altogether.

So as I wind up my Thailand trip, and return to my mundane life, I will take with me an experience that I will cherish for a lifetime.

Vacation Diaries - Part V: The Hostel Experience and Chatuchak Market

Being a Boarder Boy, the word ‘Hostel’ always related to me to my boarding school. Later during my college days I had a couple of friends, from different cities, who stayed in a hostel. And then through friends and the movie Queen learned about the concept of Hostels in countries which you can use for budgeted travels.

A last minute change in plans lead us to search for places in Bangkok where we could find a place to keep our bags, and if required, sleep for the night. So keeping in mind that most of us were on a tight budget, we booked ourselves into an hostel.

The Hostel Experience way exceeded our expectations. In many way it is way better than living in a hotel room. You can cook your own food and you get an unlimited supply of tea and coffee (yipeee). It was neat, clean and really friendly and warm. And did I mentioned we had bunk beds? I always wanted to sleep in bunk beds as a child, so this was my big chance to fulfil that experience. 

The hostel is a melting pot of people of various nationalities and genders and ages and preferences. You felt one with each either. The ambience in fact matched this theme (and provided us with so many photo-ops, which we just couldn’t resist). I can say, hands down that these few moments I spent in the Hostel have been the best part of the Thailand trip. Though it was also a bit bitter sweet (that’s a different story altogether).

And then you have Chatuchak Weekend Market, a Market that’s only open on the weekend, a Market that’s sells everything beside electronics (or didn’t see any). You name it and the place had it, clothes, accessories, shoes, tops, dresses, souvenirs, food. But the biggest thing that this place had was crowd. You were part of a melting pot of people who were bargaining and haggling (like we Indians love to do) and selling and buying and just taking in the market.

Having to buy things for friends and family, actually got separated from my group. Initially was a bit nervous about being alone, took a deep breath and commanded myself to be bold and go out there and experience the market and buy what I had to.

The market in many ways felt so much like home, like some of the markets that I have been to in India, more specifically in Mumbai. Or maybe it was all the Indian people that you run into. But yes if you want to buy things at reasonable prices and have the time and the patient to shop and haggle all day then this is the place for you and if you are in Bangkok over the weekend.

In the end also had my first experience of riding the underground metro on the way back to the hostel. So all in all this just added to the entire vacation experience.