Trick or Treat

He woke up groggily to the sound of his alarm, there was only that many he could press that snooze button. He finally gave up, after snoozing it for the nth time. It had won and he was up now, rubbing his eyes trying to drive away the sleep that weighed down on his eyelids. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, well not quite the total darkness, he didn’t want to wake up anyone else. He sipped his coffee, the kick that he needed to jolt him out of his slumber. He donned his running gear and off he went, well not immediately, he did do his warm up.

The world outside was dark, was fast sleep, not quite ready to awake from their slumber. It was still hours to dawn, so all was dark around him. He almost contemplated of joining the world and returning to his bed but Marathon season was ahead and couldn’t bear to miss a training run. His friends and family thought him crazy to take to the street while everyone were fast sleep at such an ungodly hour. They laughed and made fun of him but he didn’t mind their ribbing, cruel nag, he let it roll off like water on a duck’s back. Woh kya jane har kilometre bhaagne ka keemat, he thought to himself with a chuckle.

As he made his way down that familiar path, the one that he had taken a thousand of times before, the one he knew like the back of his hand, he felt a nip in the air. The air felt cool against his face as went by. Could it be that winter was finally here, not a faux winter, a faux chill. Whatever it was, he was glad for it. It was always way better than a hot humid weather that plagued runners post monsoon. He made a mental note to thank the weather gods and pray it stayed  this way a while longer, say a couple of more months longer.

As he went about his run, not jog, not trot, or even sprint, but an even pace run, he could make out mist gathering. It was not unusual for there to be mist but wasn’t it too early for there to be one, after all it wasn’t December yet? There was something strange and eerie about this. Mist normal hung above the ground (or so he had seen) this was rising from the ground, hanging at ground level, as if someone set off a fog machine, akin to the ones you seen in dance shows or horror films.

Suddenly the air felt colder than it felt before. Strange he thought, he never known the air to dip lower, all of a sudden. There was a fog on the ground covering everything with a wisp of smoke. There something strange and eerie about the place, it just didn’t feel like the place he knew. Something had set his senses tingling. But he just dismissed these thoughts as an outcome of an overactive mind, and continued with his run.

As he made his way round the bend, he could make out a two silhouettes in the fog. Must be another runner, he thought. The lamppost gave out a dull light which was made even more duller thanks to the fog. Now as he approached these silhouettes there was something strange about them. There was something strange about the way they walked, their gait, it seemed as if they were dragging their bodies. There was something strange about what they wore, all tattered and torn. Must be some peasant, or some wandering ministerial, or some beggar. 

As he passed them, he didn’t wait to take a second glance. Was that a skull he saw, or was ragged flesh hanging on bones? He once again tried to dismiss these thoughts. It was just his mind getting the better of him, and the place was just aiding it. He dismissed it as a silly thought and continued with his run. 

Out of nowhere he heard a blood cuddling scream that sent shiver down his spine, making the hair at the back of his neck stand, scaring the living daylight out of him. He stopped in tracks, frozen in the spot where he stood. Did he actually hear it or was it his mind playing tricks on his, or was it a figment of his imagination. He would feel his heart beat against his chest, banging his rib, threatening to burst out of the confines that held it back. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, even though he felt a chill about him. What cursed place did he come to, how did he get here? What happened to the place as he knew it? His mind racing faster than he ever ran, his heart thumping at a hundred miles an hour. He was paralysed with fear. 

Out of nowhere he felt hand on his shoulder. Fearing the worst he turned around to come face to face with a man in a white mask and a dagger in his hand. A creature straight out of a slasher flick. He tried to scream but nothing came out, he opened his mouth, but not a sound came out. Was this the way it would all end, was his end to come at hands of a deranged mass murderer? Had he seen too many slasher flicks?

He began to back away slowly, shivering with fear. He felt another tap on his shoulder. He turned around and came face to face with an undead creature, something very Zombie like. He couldn’t take it anymore. He let out a loud scream (finally getting some sound out of him), he ran for life, he ran as fast his feet could take him, faster than he had ever done before. If his Garmin was tracking this run he would sure would have cracked quite a few PBs. He had to get away form here, from these undead creature. He ran without looking left or right, to the confines, to the security of his own home.

Now back at the place where he ran from, the man in the mask joined the zombie like creature, and they were joined by the two people dressed as skeletons who he had passed by. The strange group was joined with a man holding a camera. “Who was that man and what was he doing here?” asked one of the men dressed as a skeleton. “That’s what I was going to ask him”, said the person in the mask. “But he just saw her,” pointing to the lady dressed as a zombie, “ and before I could say anything he screamed and ran away.” “I don’t care what he said”, said the man with the camera, “I caught some awesome footage for our Halloween run. You couldn’t ask for anything better.” And they all burst out laughing at what just had happened.

Hope Restoration

He felt broken and shattered, shaken and bruised. He felt a growing anger as much he felt sorry for himself. The world as he knew it seemed crumbling around him and there was nothing he could do about it, no money in the world could give him the life he would loose, could extend the time that he had. He felt hopeless, in pain, a lost cause that no one could help, a sinking ship that no one could save.

She wanted to be with him, fearing the worst, fearing his depression would take a toll on him. But he insisted he was ok, he just needed time to process what he had just learned, he needed time by himself. So reluctantly she hailed a cab, while he smiled and waved back at her.

He wandered around for a while, aimlessly, not knowing what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go, what was in store for him. He just wanted a way out of it all. He wanted a balm for the pain, cause he couldn’t take it any longer. He wanted a way out, he wanted anything that would numb the pain he felt. He wanted to drown out the voices in his head that screamed loudly, screaming for help, like a man drowning in despair, it screamed but there was no one there. He was a hopeless case, far from redemption, at a point of no return. He wanted to desperately put an end to it all.

He found himself outside a familiar establishment, one that he had frequented before, at times by himself, at time with company. Instinctively he entered. The place was filled with the regulars, the good looking people of the world coming there to unwind, have a drink or two, picking up and hooking up. He knew that no one would even give a look, or even a glance at a middle aged man who had aged a few more years in the past hour. The thought drove him even deeper in despair.

He made his way to the bar and asked for his usual. He sipped from his glass and slowly scanned the room as the patrons kept piling in, talking animatedly, till he locked eyes at him. He saw him looking at him from across the the room. He raised his bottle in acknowledgment and slowly made his towards the bar, joining him at the bar. He ordered for both of them and sat next to him, clinking his bottle with his glass.

They just sat there sipping their drinks not muttering much, asking and answering in monosyllables. They didn’t talk much but were glad for each other’s company. It became evident that he couldn’t keep his drink down from his slurring words and unsteady balance and droopy eyes. He could have left him at the bar and return back home to his lonely life, what was left of it. But something within him couldn’t just abandon him there. He was not sure if he was in state to give him his address, so he took a chance and brought him back home. 

As he supported him on his shoulder, guided him towards his apartment, treading carefully as he walked unsteadily. He opened his door and helped him settle on his couch with the thought of letting him spend the night there. As he was about to leave to fetch a pillow and blanket for his guest, he felt a hand pull him. “Don’t leave me”, his guest said slurringly, trying his best to find the right words to say. “Please sit with me for a while, don’t leave me like everyone,” he pleaded. So he sat next to him, just as his guest giggled.

“You know you were the first person I noticed in that crowded room”, he said rather groggily. “Yes, I did see that,” he said trying to get out of the situation as soon as possible, not wanting to start a conversation, already regretting his decision. “You know why I chose you?” he asked, “Why?” he responded half-heartedly not truly wanting to hear the answer to that question. “Because I wanted to kill you,” he said slurring through his words. Now this caught his attention, “why do you want to kill me and what would you get from my killing me?” he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible, contemplating his next move. In those moment he thought this was destiny helping him to put an end to it all.

“Because of this,” he said pointing to the marks that the needles had made in his hand. “But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t,” he said stuttering through his word, “you’re a good man and I am a good man and that is not who I am.” He was now swaying from side to almost falling down, so he sat by his side, holding him. The thought of calling for help crossed his mind but in the man sitting there he found a kindred spirit.

“I am good man, and all my life I did everything I could to make others happy,” his guest said with his voice almost cracking from the pain, “I always did what would made others happy.” “But are you happy,” he asked his guest, now getting into the conversation. “In making others happy I thought I would be happy,” he said sheepishly, once again slurring through his words, “I always believed that god made me to make others happy.” “But you know what”, he said with a drunken mischievous smile, “I think I have forgotten how to be happy, I’ve  forgotten what Happy feels like” he said and bursting out laughing as if he had just cracked a rather funny joke. 

“I have been in a dark and lonely place and this helped me back,” he said once again pointing to the needle marks on his hand. “I tried to make something of myself, pursuing things I wanted to do. But  in doing so I drifted away from the people who meant the world to me, I lost the people who cared for me. You know I have been alone for the most of the year. I have been in depression not once but twice,” he said now slowly sobbing, “but I made it through on my own, no one to help me out, I had me to rely on. I have no one, I am all alone.”

“Don’t you have family and friends”, he asked, finally putting his hand around his shoulder trying to console him, holding him. His feelings moved from fear to disgust, to pity, to sympathy, finally feeling his pain. “Who could I tell, I lost everyone I care for, when I moved away from them”, he sobbed, “I have no one, no one to care for me. Tomorrow if something were to happen to me I have no one who would care for me. I have lost everything and everyone, I have nothing, no one. I am broke and broken and in pain. I want it all to end.” He sobbed bitterly as he held him close.

“You know you are never alone,” he said as his guest who’s face was buried in his embrace. “You could just reach out and someone will always be there to help you.  Come now it’s late and you really must sleep,” he said slowly guiding him down to the pillow, tucking him in.

As he was about to make his way to his little bed to put an end to a painful day when he felt his hand grab him. “Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, “please be with me. I don’t want to be alone, not tonight. Could you please hold me and don’t let go of me.” 

So he lay by his side on that couch, holding on to him as he drifted to sleep. He was surprised how two lonely souls managed to fit on that couch. As he held him close, he could slowly feel his pain lift, like a dense fog lifting to reveal the things it concealed. He felt a weight lift from his heart, and made him feel lighter. He kissed him on the forehead not wanting to wake him up, he patted his head gently as a mother would pat her child to sleep. His eyes opened and met his, and leaned towards him. He could smell the alcohol on his breath, which should have ordinarily repulsed him, but he leaned forward and met his lips, pulling him into a warm embrace.

Now it was his turn to breakdown, to sob. As they lay there, in their embrace, they anchored each other, preventing the other from slipping into the depths of despair, giving each other hope as much as soaking in it. They lay there in each other arms, kindred spirits, bound by the pain they felt, the loneliness and despair, the hopelessness. They found a soothing balm in each other’s arms. Destiny seemed to have conspired and brought them together in the most unlikeliest of ways.

The next morning, after showering and having breakfast, he dropped him off at his place, placing some money in his hand, much to his protest, and promising him that he would never ever be alone again. As he sat the wheel seeing him go, me began to sob. He took out his phone and called her. “Hello, where are you? Are you alright?” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I touched someone,” he said trying to get a grip on his emotions, “and in doing so he touched me, I found the hope I needed.” He sat there sobbing, not for sorry but for the hope that now filled his heart from the hope that he gave.

To go or not to go... the Zostel Experience

To go or not to go was always a big question. There were so many permutations and combinations whether should I go and do I have budget for it. But finally made up my mind, when I was promised a good time and new friends. The day may have not gotten off to the best start, what with the Novocaine wearing off, the effects of the previous evenings root canal could now be felt, and with your friend cancelling his plans to join, after he got caught in an unseasonal rain. So almost thought of going back and just go ahead with a normal weekend. However, since I was already down decided to go ahead and spend time with friends.

Well spending your weekend in a shipping containers and sleeping on bunk beds, sharing your container with strangers who would soon be friends, ladies too ( of their own choosing), then Zostel is for you. Well the journey was pretty eventful, through trains and buses and trek to zostel, and to making new friend. 

The experience of staying in Zostel is something else. Staying in bunk beds and containers that overlook the mountain range (well not quite in the way of Leh) can always be a unique experience. Yes you had share your containers with people you didn’t know but if you are able to adjust and make new friends then it can be one fun experience. So once you’ve settled in (even if it’s just for the night) then it time to soak in the Zostel experience. 

So we headed to common room to join the other residents (if that’s the right word to use here) and if possible to mix and mingle. But not before we clicked pics (yes those DPs and cover pages needed to be updated), and yes there was a birthday to be celebrated, and cake to be eaten and wine to be drunk. Once that was out of the way it was time to be social.

Reaching the common room we first sipped on some tea and played a game that was of a drinking game but played by sober people. Once done then was time for some Fossball, quite the FRIENDS style. By now people started to streaming into the common room. So if you kept to yourself it could one very boring experience (like I kind of thought I would experience being my normal unsociable self). But if you were able to make friends then you were in for a quite a fun night. So we went from foosball to Zenga to darts and caromboard, culminating to full on dancing session. So you played foosball and zenga with strangers who would become friends and then you would dance with friends both old and new.

So here you have strangers coming together, introducing themselves, dancing with each other whether they knew the steps or if they knew to dance at all, enjoying each other’s company, not actually socialising, but just having fun. So as the music played, people danced and sang and drank and got sloshed but always having a good time. So you didn’t really care if you knew the person dancing with you, you sang and danced and jumped and even did a garba (seems like I have been doing quite a bit of it lately). The music played and you danced, forgetting what afflicted you, a perfect melting pot of people from varied backgrounds, culture, gender, preferences. The common room changed to a dance floor cause you were not allowed to just sit around and watch, you needed to dance, and how hard was it to just move your limbs to the beat, it didn’t matter whether you knew or not how to dance, you just let the music take over you and just dance like mata chad gayi. So it didn’t matter if you were sober or totally sloshed, the night was meant to enjoy yourself, the moment was yours to make the most of.

So the night ended with the ushering birthdays of the friends who celebrated it, eating cake and singing the birthday song(rather melodiously cause by then most were too drunk to care if they sang in tune or out of it). So once these were out the way it was time to head to your bunker. But then there were those who continued to eat out in the dark, engaging in animated conversations till the night away. And then some who sat with sloshed friends to hear them out, keep them company, not wanting to leave them alone, and then tuck them to bed.

Now next morning I had planned to go out for a run (yes no Sunday can ever be complete with out it). However, the exertion of the previous night had me sleep a little longer. But once up decided to go on short run no matter the time ( which was around eight, so pretty late by runners time). As I made my way up I could see new friend that I made the previous night, greeted them, and headed off for my run. So after a quick warm up it was off down the the winding road with the deep valley on one side and the the road the mountainside on the other. So vie was breathtaking, and since the it was downhill was easy. But on the way back, the sun shone brightly, making me pull my cap a little lower to shield the eyes from the sun. 

Reaching back it was time to pack and get ready to check out or at least get your baggage’s out. A bit of panic did set in when I couldn’t find my lock and my house keys. Luckily it was found and kept aside in the common room. So once the bags was packed and the breakfast was eaten it was time to capture more pics and make more memories. So we posed and we clicked and teased and had fun. So after having a quick lunch, even admiring and then participating in a choreographed routine it was time to head back home, rush to catch that bus which we would have missed by a whisker and then train, metro, and back home.

So the weekend was sure a wonderful experience, a well spent and fun one, filled with moments that would become a beautiful memory that would stay with me forever. So here’s to new friends and new experience and memories for all time.

Hey do give Zostel a look up, not just in Panchgani but in other places around India. Wonderful place, beautiful ambiance, great food and an awesome concept. If you like staying at youth hostels, you will surely enjoy it. Note this is a youth hostel so you may not enjoy it if you huger your entire family, but you can always spice it up with your spouse, age no bar.

I’ll love you forever: A bond eternal

They tried just about everything, medications, allopathic and Ayurvedic, visited every possible doctors, sages and godmen, paid homage at every holy places, listened and tried every advice given to them. No matter what they did, parenthood seemed to elude them. They had all but given up, still hoping, but always wondering if they would ever be destined to be parents.

Then one day, a community excursion took them to an orphanage. In those little children they found a kindred spirit. If parenthood eluded them, a family eluded these little ones. In those moments which they spent with them they found joy and peace. Then she heard a wail, a cry for attention. She followed it to a cradle where it lay wailing. It suffered from a form skin ailment which made it look different, an other worldly creature from which you would avert your eyes from, turn away from. But here it was, trying to reach out for her, making gurgling like sound, smiling a broken smile.

She felt drawn to it, and with the help of the caretaker she took it in her arms, a little broken but beautiful baby girl. As she rocked her back and forth, she felt an instant connection, she felt complete, that little baby had imprinted on her heart. She found a joy she had long since forgotten, she almost given upon, she had thought she would never be able to experience. 

She kept coming back to her, day-in and day-out, spending every moment she could with her. She brought her happiness and joy that was unbridled, unconditional and pure. He noticed this in her, and was not surprised when she broached on the topic of adopting her. He was at first hesitant and knew it would be a huge responsibility. But he loved her more than any doubt that set in his mind and her happiness meant the world to him. He knew he couldn’t her this happiness. 

So they adopted her, much to the charging of a few family and friend, who doubted if it would even have a full life or make it though a year. But she just calmly said to them, “she gave me hope and joy, now it’s my turn to do the same.” And so they became whole, the missing piece finally falling in place.

She gave up her job to take full time care of her, cause she need it. She didn’t trust servants and nannies, she wanted to give her all the love she could give. He supported her decision, one hundred percent behind her. At night they took turns caring for her, trying to keep her skin cool, the way the caretaker showed them, the way the doctor advised them. At time, in the middle of the night, she would hear her wail in pain, and she would gently lift her from her crib and place her on her bosom, rocking her back and forth, back and forth, whispering to her, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you till the end of time, for as long as I live, my baby you shall always be.” Saying this she calmed her down. 

And she made it through the night, through another day, week, month, and a year, beating the odds, beating those who had given up hope in her. She survived and thrived, though her skin condition left her scared and disfigured. She found it difficult to make friends, difficult to bear the cruel jokes that were made at her expense, always isolated, never included in games, and fun. This built the frustration in her, making her act upon it, often landing her in trouble. She often went crying to her mother, complaining the way others treated her, to which her mother explained to her that she was special, a little different, and people take time to adjust to something different, so she would need to give them time, she would need to be an enabler of change in attitude towards her and others like her.

Now they were blessed with a beautiful baby boy. She became a proud and caring big sis, and he was protective of her, standing up to those who made fun of her, those who couldn’t get her. She was grateful to have him in her life, but she tried to inculcate the values of acceptance and tolerance in him, the way she was taught by their parents.

She was aware that she was once an orphan, abandoned by the ones who gave birth to her, adopted by the beautiful souls  whom she now called her parents. This truth she learned, quite painfully from a cruel, gossipy aunt. Sometimes she asked her mother why did they adopt her, they could have adopted any kids in that orphanage, why chose her? Her mother calmly replied that they didn’t choose her, she was the one that chose them. When she held her for the first time, she had imprinted on their heart.  

As she grew, she became aware at those who stared at her, those who shunned her, kept her away, treating her as if someone with a contagious disease. She didn’t mind this, she had her loyal friends, she had her brother, she had her parents who constantly rallied around her. She became an advocate for adoption, especially the ones with disabilities, the ones who never got adopted, never quite standing a chance of finding a family. She stood for those like her. She was one of the lucky ones and she would need to help them get lucky as her. Her parents and friend stood proudly listening to her narrate her story and giving hope to others.

In the most likeliest of ways she found love, someone who accepted her the way she was. But then the fates had other plans for her. Her mother was detected with cancer, and she spent majority of her time caring for her ailing mother as the disease ravaged her. But once again she found someone who wouldn’t abandon her, just like her mother didn’t abandoned her. So as the cancer finally took its toll, in those moment she took her mother’s head and placed it on her lap, and stroking her hair, she whispered those words that her mother had whispered to her, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you till the end of time, for as long as I live, your daughter forever I shall be, cause you’ll be my mother for all eternity.” And as she said these words the life passed out of her mother, as she knew her life was fulfilled.

Now years went by, she married, and 

 was blessed with a daughter of her own. And at night when her daughter cried, she picked up the babe and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, whispering, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you till the end of time, for as long as I live, my baby you shall always be.” Bringing her life a full circle.

Till it happens to you: MeToo no more

The MeToo movement has been around for over a year now, but only recently it has found its way to Indian shores. Suddenly you have women (as of now) who have found their voice to speak up and talk about the harassment they face, they had faced, they continue to face. It may have occurred today, or yesterday, or ages ago, but they have suddenly found a voice, courage to speak their truth, to stand up and no longer remain silent.

But with every movement, there will be brickbats with the bouquets, the naysayers, the doubters, along with the supporters, the critics along with the advocates. We all have a right to our opinions, the way we perceive things and situation, but let not that perception come in the way of your humanity. And yes you will also have those who would want to make the most from this situation.

It may sound corny, and can be taken as just another hashtag, but make no mistake MeToo is a movement. The jokes, the memes were always going to be there, but some are downright distasteful and mean and demeaning.

There have been write ups and forwards and open-Ed’s dismissing these as sob stories, fame seekers, questioning why the victim took so long to tell it, why were they weak not to retaliate or complain? Well these are sob stories, maybe they are not. There are few who maybe attention seekers, but only a few of them are. While one may question why they took so long, we’ve would not know what went through their mind. 

We may argue that they should have complained to someone or told someone about it, this is not the way a strong woman or man should behave. But then the fear, the shock, the moment of shame, the fear of not being believed, the fear of name calling, all are the root cause of silencing them. There are instances of both men and and women who suffered abuse at the hands of close relatives, family friends, neighbours, people they trusted, who choose to remain silent about their abuse, let it eat them from within, change the course of their lives, shatter them, but always afraid to speak their truth. 

You may say strong women would have stood up to their oppressors, given back, slapped them, but is there really a decorum on how one should behave in such situations, isn’t it a kin to telling your son that boys don’t cry? Even the strongest of people have their weak moments, even the strong of people may feel stunned, numbed, May choose to bury it in the recesses of their mind, hoping it all may just be a nightmare which can wake of from. 

They may not retaliate, but that doesn’t mean their not strong. It takes just one push, one person to stand up, to start a domino effect, to have a ripple effect, to give them strength to stand up. So don’t put them down, don’t mock them (like some leaders of the free wold have), don’t be trumpian in your behaviour. They aren’t asking you for your sympathy or your tear, they just want to speak their truth and let it set them free from the vicious pain that envelops them. 

You have your right to your doubt, you have your right to your opinion, you have the right to come to your conclusion, but let that conclusion not be drawn from a mob mentality, from a narrow perception, from a witch hunt. Try make an informed unbiased conclusion. Remember, you’ll never know how it feels, till it happens to you, you’ll never know how you will react, till you find yourself in the same situation. Right now you can only say they way you think you’ll behave, but the words and actions are two different things. 

So don’t dismiss these stories, they may not be seeking your support, or your attention, they just want to be heard, just want the truth to set them free. They just want to live in a world where no person, man, woman or child, would need to stand up and say, MeToo.

The Buttkissing Inc

You find them everywhere, in every nook and corner, in every walk of life. There’s just no escaping them. Where there’s power, perceived power, you’ll find them. Like a heron that sits on the heads of buffaloes eating the ticks and bugs on them, or like the little fishes that swim with the whales, eating things that stick on the bigger fish, or like a leech that attaches itself on the host, sucking the blood of it. They find their intended host, attach themselves and never let go till their purpose is served.

They consider themselves shinning stars, shinning brightly for all to see. And if they aren’t shinning brightly they’ll borrow light from others but ensure that they shine brighter, and everybody who’s anybody, sees their light. Jaga-maga mala baga. But like stars they are full of gas (not necessarily of the flatulent kind) and their head filled with excess of air. Like the stars they keep hovering above the ground.

Butter seems to be their favourite food, and buttering their favourite activity. They love to lay it on thick on people who they love to flatter. They’ll never shy away and will use every opportunity that present itself to butter. They love to flatter, they love stroke the ego, every word that rolls off them seems to be dripping with honey (makes you wonder if they have an hidden stash of unending supply of honey).

They are adept in the art of making a mountain of a mole hill. And if they don’t have one, they’ll porch on that of others and make it their own. Everything they do has a purpose, a deeper meaning, a reason that cannot be perceived by the naked eye, or the naked mind. Nothing they do is without reason, without an underlying purpose, or from the bottom of their heart. Dil dariya baki sab pani. Nothing they do is ever is insignificant, and even it is, they make sure to make it significant. Everything they do they’ll make sure everyone see it, marvel at it, sing their praises. Come appraisal time and they’ll go into buttering overdrive.

Sometimes I wonder if these creatures have any sort of integrity, any form conscience, a spine, or have they lost these long ago, or have they become so immune. I wonder how they can live with themselves, how do they sleep at night. There’s nothing wrong with being career oriented but it shouldn’t come at the cost of others, by stepping on the toes of others, putting others down so that they can seem climb up, taking credit for things they haven’t done, more like stealing it.

No matter how you wish to avoid them, there’s no escaping them. No matter what you try to do, no matter where you go, you can’t avoid them, cause you are always going to come across the Buttkissing Inc.

Running the Highway

I have been running now for well over eight years, and not once have I run the highway. Ok, not in its totality, maybe just partially. Well today I can tick that box off.

When you run the highway you keep your ears open for the vroom of those pesky bikers who keep racing their machine. You keep ears open as vehicles zip by you at well over 60 miles an hour, should you misjudge (or they misjudge and knock you down). So you run in a single file, keeping pace with each other, constant lookout for each other, cause on the highway you are each other’s support.

As long as we are in the vicinity of Aarey, the air has this coolness about it, there’s a nice light breeze in the air (all the more reason why we need to save Aarey from the greed of the politicians and builders). But the moment you moved away from it , the heat and humidity begin to hit you, gradually at first but then like a ton of bricks falling on you out of no where. Despite the heat you soldiers on, you continue going, even though your vest clings on to you from the sweat, and sweat drips from your pants as if you have peed in them, you continue on, running in a single file constantly on the watch out for each other , constantly supporting each other, at least till you join the MRR runners at Mahim. 

Now there was a plan to take every flyovers. So you crossover and take the slope, keeping a lookout for traffic, trying not to be run over. They seemed to go on and on, once up you run for a km or more, or say it may seem, before you got off before taking the next one. You thought you would have muttered some curses or hexes under your breath, but surprisingly you made it through. Maybe it was thought that it would make running on inclines simpler. But then Peddar Road would sure be a pain in the back.

So after running over 12 km your see the first MRR Runners (it wasn’t that we hadn’t see runners on the way) the water station felt like a relief, cause the heat seemed to get you, and your legs felt sore and tight, almost lead like. You greet your friends as you see them, sometimes even passing them, only to be passed when you slowed down.

At Haji Ali you are greeted by tea runners as they go by. You see a group of trail runners who seemed to have lost their way and found themselves on the road instead of a trail. After some light moments and selfie clicking, it was off to face the dreaded Peddar Road.

Now reaching the inclines of Peddar Road the leadden legs refused to run, so you walk your way up that slope, but then that was the plan after all the flyovers. The sun slowly reaches its apex making you pull your cap down to avoid its glare. By now, thanks to the heat and humidity, fatigue sets in and it seems like you have hit the wall well ahead of the 30th km. So you have to resort to walk and run, more like more of walking and little jogging.

On Marine Drive you begin to feel the brunt of the October heat. You are now more walking than crawling (cause you’re no longer jogging either), afraid to pull a muscle but the determination to complete it fuels you in. So you walked, crawled, jogged right up to NCPA. Having slowed down meant that I had to miss the group pic and show Sammy all the love (but then that’s for the women to do).

Finally reaching NCPA all you wanted to do is collapse and fall a sleep at the very spot Where you collapse, but Sunday’s meant that NCPA was a Runners mela. So you meet greet, enthusiastically talk with friends, be introduced to new runners, strike conversations, socialise, smile and preen for photos and selfies (more of selfies). So after having one crazy time, and helping rid off the trash it was time to join your fellow runners at Pizza by the Bay for breakfast and then head back home, with your head held high for the mileage you achieved despite the heat and humidity.

Of Ex’s and O’s

Why did he have to do it, she thought to herself as she prepared to call it a night. Why did he have say those words and ruin what they had. They had been going steady for the past year, they enjoyed each other’s company, really liked each other, and yes she did love him. But did this necessitate taking the next step. Why spoil something that was already so perfect.

She tried to close her eyes and will herself to sleep, hoping it was all a bad dream. But sleep seemed to have deserted and this wasn’t a dream. Damn the man, the over sentimental fool, she should have dumped him when she had a chance, it wouldn’t have come to this, but she knew she couldn’t bring herself to it, she loved him. He was the best thing to have happened to her. But why did he have to go and ruin it, make a fool of himself. Thankfully he didn’t plan anything grand, an elaborate gesture, it made not giving him an answer, not saying yes, easy, without embarrassing him.

She wondered if she was commitment phobic? Were women capable of being phobic towards any sort of commitment? She thought to herself, chuckling at the the sexist nature of it. She always thought it was a man thing, not a lady like thing to do. But was she really commitment phobic, she questioned herself. Did she have an aversion to commitment?

She remembered her first love. It was in high school, her first true love, or was it, she wondered. But then they were immature, they were kids, too young to understand the nuances of love. They grew up, they broke off, they moved on, never to ever bothered to keep in touch with each other.

Then there was the one she had in college. He was the jock, the popular kid. She was surprised that he even asked her out, with all the clackers (the noise their heels made against the marbled floor) and the plastic Barbies that craved his attention. She wasn’t that bad looking tough, she thought, as she adjusted the errant strand of hair behind her ear, as she stood before the mirror. But then he was a himbo, with brains in his biceps. When it ended it brought her a sense of relief. 

Her next one was with someone who was sensitive and sweet, caring and loving and understanding, and gay. Yes he was gay, and she found about it in the funniest of ways, when they were out on a date (now that was another story altogether, for another day). But despite of this revelation, they remained good friend, in fact he became her gay best friend, the Will Truman to her Grace Adler. Sometimes she wondered if she actually turned him.

When she moved to the city, there was her nerdy neighbour who harboured feelings for her, even though they were as different as chalk and cheese, she decided to give it a shot. He reminded her of a cross between Ross Gellar and Leonard Hofstadter. So what would that make her, a Rachel or a Penny? She liked that thought. But then things soured and it was better to end things. After all they had literally nothing in common.

By now she knew that her thoughts would not let her sleep, and sleep itself seemed to be like a distant thought hidden in the recesses of her mind. She got up put some coffee to brew. Pouring it in her mug she went out to her balcony and sipped it while lighting a cigarette as she stared at the world that was slowly stirring from its slumber. She took deep puff and looked into the predawn sky. She took a deep breath and inhaled the air into her lungs.

And there was him, she thought. The one who she believed got away from her, the one she really liked, the wanted she would have wanted to spend the rest of her life with. They had met when she and her friends were planning a vacation and he was helping them out with. At first she was surprised that he gave her more attention, at times even annoyed, but with time and all their chatting, they grew fond of each other, and so they went out on a couple of dates. He was a type of man for her, good looking, handsome (didn’t that mean one and the same), smart, well dressed and groomed, someone who could take care of her. Moreover he was the only guy who could make her toes curls and bring her to orgasm. But alas it  it wasn’t meant to be. He didn’t want to be tied down, based on his past relationship. This was the only time in her life she wanted to settle down, and he was not ready for it. Beside he didn’t have the financial stability she needed. So it was best for her not to pursue him, just remain friends.

She sighed as she thought of him and took a deep drag of her cigarette. She well and truly missed him, and though they still kept in the touch and shared thoughts with each other, things weren’t the same. Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like, a life with him.

She finally took the final sip of coffee and watched the world as it stirred to life. A Gradual orange shade of dawn slowly taking over the inky blue night sky. She looked ahead and realised that she had been in many relationships, but none lasted long. Well not till now. She had met him when a common friend set them up. Apparently, he was in one of the countless WhatsApp groups that she was on. He had liked her posts and now wanted to meet her, something she found surprising (call it humility or self-depreciation). Her friend advised to give it a short, after all how long would she stay lonely. 

He was nice guy, loving caring, good looking and from her past experience, definitely not gay. She liked his company, loved spending time with him, loved being loved by him, the centre of his attention, but wasn’t sure she wanted to be married to him, bound to him. She wasn’t ready to settle down just yet. Though age was catching up to her, her biological clock was ticking away, she was in no hurry. Age was just a number to her, motherhood was not her priority. There’s so much life she wanted to live, so much she wanted to do, to achieve, before she was ready to write the next chapter, and she was not there yet.

She sighed, it was almost morning, and she was still lost in her thoughts. She hadn’t even slept a wink all night. Her thoughts kept her awake refusing to let her sleep, even for a short while. Damn him, why did he have go and propose. But then the night had given her perspective of where she was and what she wanted from life and love. She was not ready to take the next step, at least not right now. She wanted time and didn’t want to jump into anything. 

She quickly took a shower, had her breakfast and got ready. She had her answer and was ready to face him and tell him what she wanted from the world, wanted from him. She held her head up high and went out to face the morning and meet him and tell him what she wanted to say.

When the lotus bloomed and became a runner

It’s been a while since I’ve tried to get him to join me on a run. We had connected on our mutual need to stay healthy and fit and our love for exercising. I had even helped him pick up running shoes, gave him running tips (though I am no where’s qualified to do so) and even got him to install a running app on his phone. But barring the one time, when I stayed over at his place, we didn’t run together. Not even when we went to Thailand. Though he had promised me to join me for a run, he was always was a sleep when I went out on my run.

So I was pleasantly surprised when he decided to do the 5k at the IDBI Federal Life Insurance Mumbai Half Marathon, was actually quite happy. He even signed up his mum and got a common friend to run the event. He was quite excited to run his first marathon, though had to remind him, and burst his bubble, that 5k ain’t a marathon (cause the distance is a matter of pride for any runner who has done at least one full marathon). But that didn’t dampen his spirit (and that wasn’t even my intention), and he was all excited as the date came closer. 

So come the expo they went very eagerly for their first expo, to collect their first ever bibs, for their first ever race. Even asking me if they should pick up shoes from the expo. And although I couldn’t be there with them, they clicked a selfie with my pic on the ambassadors wall and shared that with me.

On race day they were all ready and rearing to go, even altering their race tees. I missed meeting them at the start or to greet them when they returned back. But the glow I could see on their face, the happiness, was one of the best thing on the hot and humid Sunday. The happiness on completing their first run was evident on their faces that was flushed with glee as they displayed their medals, and clicked pics.

I was so proud of them, but I was even more proud of his mum. They  had recently lost one of their own, my friend lost his father, and auntie her husband, but here stood a lady, who had overcome that grief and was ready to move on, start something new. Her joy radiated and just added to the beautiful soul that she is. The way she posed with her medal, took in the experience and even pampered and took side of her Sonu, all left me in admiration of a strong and beautiful woman, reminding me so of my mum.

Now that he had got the taste of his first race, he’s looking forward to the next one and the beauty of it all is that his mum is looking forward to it. And meanwhile the three of them have been bitten by running bug and are eagerly training for the next one, even roping their friends in turn. So now I can proudly say that I am so proud of my friends and his mother, cause even though they may have done a 5k, no distance will ever be too small. Even a journey of a thousand kilometres starts with one single step. So no distance is ever too insignificant. So here’s to many more races to come, many more runs to come, to the joy that running brings to life.

A chance encounter of the envious kind, to the most unlikeliest of souls

Neither I am a fan nor do I like cricket. In fact, kind of hate it (please don’t kill me for this). Meeting the maestro wasn’t even on my bucket list of things I wanted to do. So going for Saturday’s event was not too great an excitement for me. I actually didn’t have that much of excitement as some of friends had, who couldn’t contain their self cause they were a legend, a person they worshipped. But still there was a bit of excitement that I would be seeing someone who others would have given anything to meet.

So being there i could be feel the excitement of those present. It was palpable, it was contagious, it was driving everyone crazy with giddy. I felt it a little weird with all the rules of being around him. I even quipped, is he the queen of England when we were told not to touch him and click selfies with him, but then I can understand why the precaution (as later I would see).

In the end I got caught up in the excitement, cause it was contagious l, though not at a level of my fellow ambassadors (read Pankhuri). We smiled, captured selfies, clicked pics of one another, laughed and teased, and waited with baited breath for the man to appear.

Now when he finally arrived (IST I say) he was greeted with an enthusiastic cheer and applause (mine included). He sat down and began the session. Now we were lucky to be given the first two rows, the perks of being an IDBI Federal Life Insurance Mumbai Half Marathon Ambassadors, and thanks to Sunil Sir and Sangeeta Ma’am. So we literally had front row seats to something great in our lives.

As he answered questions, shared anecdotes, gave us the inside scoop of important events, of highs and lows, he became more and more human, unlike the god like image his fans had. The conversation seemed personal, it felt real, felt honest, felt like he was just another one of us, speaking to us, sharing his important moments of his life, and in those moment he became human, unlike the image cultivated in everyone’s mind. This spoke volume of his character, the humility, the down-to-earth, a lack of pretension, he became one of us, no longer god like, no longer just a legend.  It felt like a conversation, something honest, something from a treasure throve of experiences.

So we laughed when he narrated light incidents that involved the team and wasabi (now who hasn’t had friends who thought wasabi was chutney), cheered when he spoke about his knocks, especially against Pakistan (now who wouldn’t cheer that), felt the emotions when he narrated the successful world campaign (especially after being almost written off in a previous one) and seeing his mother and family while he batting for the final time, and were moved when he spoke about the passing of his father. It all felt so personal and whether you were a fan or not (which was my case) you couldn’t help but smile, laugh, cheer and even be moved. You felt the privilege of hearing it in person rather from the pages of a book.

Now there were questions asked in between, like a spot prize, where you were handed a copy of coffee table book on the maestro by his brother, getting the opportunity to meet him and be handed the book. One the question was about Carlos Ramos, and being a Serena Williams fan, I knew the answer. So there I had it, a once in a lifetime opportunity to share the stage and shake hand with someone way bigger than I will ever be. I guess I just smiled, albeit goofily, for the shutterbug. I knew I would be the envy of everyone in that room (I think I could see my friend Pankhuri trying to put a hex on me for getting to do what she wanted to do), as well as others who would get to know about it. And I was kind of excited for it, glad to be lucky enough to get the opportunity.

I would have loved to get it personally autographed by him, but didn’t want to go overboard and act like an over enthusiastic fan. I waited if they would allow us to get it signed. Alas that was not to happen. He was actually mobbed by quite many in the room, by selfie seekers and autograph seekers. So after clicking a group pic, I retreated to the back of the room. But I couldn’t loose that goofy grin that I wore since I stood on stage with him.

So in the end, was I convert, the answer is still no. But I have grown to respect the man more, to admire him a bit more, cause the opportunity gave me an insight to the man behind all the adulation, and it felt honest, felt true. So in the end I was grateful for the opportunity, a chance encounter of the envious kind, to the unlikeliest of souls.