It’s a Trust-Fall

Life’s a trust-fall

You’ve got to close your eyes

And leave it all behind

Never wondering if there’s someone there

To catch you, to hold you 

When you fall 

But trusting someone will eventually be there for you 

And won’t let you hit the ground

Would be able hold on to you 

And break your fall

You’ve got to close your eyes 

And leave it all behind

It’s trust-fall baby

Leave behind all the pain

The overthinking that drives us insane

The hurt that leaves you never the same 

The ones who caused you the hurt

The hurt  you may caused, your regrets 

You’ve got to let go of it all

If you want to soar

You’ve got to let go to heal 

To stop the wounds inflicted 

From festering and poisoning

Leave behind the hurt you once knew

To discover and begin a new you

You’ve got to close your eyes

And leave it all behind 

It’s a trust-fall baby 

Never wondering if there will someone to hold you

Someone to hold onto 

Someone who will be able to catch you 

Or if there’s ground below 

Or would it be free falling 

But you’ve got trust you’ll be ok

You’ll be alright

You’ll heal from the hurt you leave behind

And even if there no one to hold you

You’re going to be just fine

So close your eyes 

And leave it all behind 

Cause it’s a trust- fall baby

West Side Story

For me West Side Story has always been about the choreography and the dancing and those dresses, those beautiful dresses that just come to life with every leap and every twirl. It has been less about the music as the only songs I could remember from the movie was “I Feel Pretty” and “America”, and much later I fell in love with “Somewhere”. It wasn’t a movie that I had seen in childhood, in fact the first time actually saw the film was in the 2000s. Although it was not as beloved to me as the Sound of Music, it was still a movie that I loved.

So watching the Broadway musical was a no brainer, after all when would you get to experience Broadway, or at least most part of it, without having to travel to New York, but in our very own good old Mumbai. And after watching Sound of Music, there was no way I was going to miss watching another gem here.

And in the end, for the most part, it did live to expectations. It was a sublimely staged musical (something that you would expect from an international production). Be it the sets, the lights, orchestra, choreography, the costumes, the music, the story (which was something I was familiar with), the acting, the characters. everything was on point.

The songs were beautifully staged and sung, each well received by the audience, well may not be as well received as it deserved to be, as not all the songs were familiar to the audience, unless you belong to the era, or are an old soul like me. But yes every song was met with an enthusiastic applause. 

For me the standout song would definitely be Somewhere. I was a bit disappointed that they didn’t have America sung by Anita and Bernardo, but instead by the ladies. Though I did also like Dear Officer Kripkee, which came as a nice relief  before the final act.

The characters were well played and well cast. For me the standout was definitely the character of Anita. She danced like with such sensual energy and fiery passion, sang so beautifully with emotion and finesse, and acted amazingly, doing justice to the actors who have played this character before, the great Rita Mareno and Arianna DiBose. The actors playing Maria and Toni had beautiful chemistry, but somewhere I felt Maria was more loud than naive and Toni was naive than having that swagger. For me Maria only came into her own in the final act.

The choreography was as amazing. It was all that I had expected to witness, and almost well executed. I say almost as I felt that there were moment when not all the dancers were sync, or achieved the same height in their leaps. Or maybe it was  just my  seat.

 But these were minor gripes of an otherwise flawlessly staged musical.

In the end it was a delightful experience that was totally worth it, and I can say (if not sing out loud, or for that matter even soft cause I am not praying)

“I feel happy, Oh so happy

I feel happy and filled with joy

Cause I got to watch 

A wonderful Broadway play”

Running that Familiar Route… from Bandra to NCPA

I didn’t realise how sorely I missed the Bandra-NCPA Training Run, after all, for better part of the years leading to the Pandemic, it was my baby. I did feel bad (read guilty) stepping away from it, but it was something that I had to do, I felt I needed to do, to avoid being stressed by something I so loved to do.

But after all this time, standing there, outside Otter’s Club made feel nostalgic and a tad bit forlorn, but also good. It felt good to be back and top of things. Well not really on the top of things, just making announcements and giving instructions, and clicking the group pictures, and whatever pictures you can click while everyone’s doing the warm-up.

So once the warm-up done, instructions given, picture taken, it’s off you go. It actually felt nice running this route, and not running alone, but with Sharad, Manu and Rohan baba, or at least you trying to first catch up with them, and then keep up with them. But then that wasn’t going to be any problem.

So while you try and catch up, you realise they have taken a different turn, something that’s not part of the route you instructed the runners, but a route that would avoid all constructions and diggings and dark patches. It’s a route you know though you’ve never done it before, except coming from the other way. At the same time you also wonder if you should have instructed other runners to do the same. But this is not a simple route to understand and would be confusing to anyone who’s unfamiliar with the Mumbai (which can be confusing, make that disorienting with all the construction).

So you continue to play catch with the people ahead while looking over your shoulders if someone followed you, worried they would get more confused.

So finally when you catch with your friends ahead, there’s another catch up you need to do (a side note, we runners run, we don’t jog), trying to catch with all the missed conversations you should have had.

Bandra has always been a beautiful place to run through, rightly owning its title, Queen of the Suburbs. So as you run past graffitis Rohan baba remarks that you should be clicking pics, and trust me I would have loved to have done this, but hey you are running, even though there have been so many time where you have stopped and clicked, but at this moment time is of the essence.

Though you are supposed to run at a steady and easy pace, you realise that the pace is quicker than you thought you would be running at, all thanks to Sharad for going quicker and Manu for keeping up with him. For our part, Rohan baba and I content at running steadily, a little behind them, enjoying the little jibber-jabber as we run steady, keeping pace with each other. So there was no complaints from me and I don’t think Rohan baba had anything to complain about, though we occasionally looked at our watches to state that we were going faster. But we still kept going on.

I have always contended that the MRR route is the way of the Gods, with all the Holy landmarks you pass, like St. Michael’s Church, Mahim Darga, Siddhivinayak Mandir, Haji Ali, Babulnath, and to some extent Mahalaxmi Temple. With this modified route you also had Mount Carmel Church and aJapanese Buddhist Temple, adding to the piousness of the route.

As you run the route you feel this sense of familiarity though so much has changed around you, leaving you a bit disoriented at times. You’ve run this route several times before (if not the exaggerated thousand times) but so much has changed making you feel a little lost, leaving you with a sense of longing to see the things you used to see, the things the way they were before, that are now hidden behind barricades and constructions. You long to see the route the way it was before, but you are also aware that change is inevitable, and for city that’s bursting at it seems, these changes, no matter how tough, are needed.

So you continue to run with Rohan baba, occasionally motivating, pushing each other, but then our dearest Rohan baba has found a better leggy pacer a few meters ahead and so picks the pace, till the pacers goes another way (only to be seen somewhere near our last water station).

The benefit of running this route is the people you meet enroute, many who you don’t see unless you run in these parts of the city. I do love running in the park and meeting friends and fellow runners who run there, but sometime I do miss running in this side of town, maybe not much because of the route, but the people you meet on the road.

Well as you make your to the final stretch from Wilson’s College to NCPA you have to dodge traffic, the vehicular and human kind. You wonder… When did these streets get so crowded on a Sunday morning? When did so many people, other than us crazy runners, take to the streets so early on  a Sunday morning? What happened to sleeping in late on a Sunday? When did this all change?

The roads and pavements from Marine Lines to NCPA are full of kids and youth and the couples and the usual riff-raf(sure makes me feel old saying this) doing Garba, or some strange dance, doing karaoke, or just flaunting their ripped physique, or performing street plays, making Reels and other along countless selfies, So in short, doing total timepass.

What should have been a carnival of runners from various running groups is now a mela of people.

So you weave your way through the crowd, trying hard not to run into people making reels, or taking selfies, or simply gawking at the runners.

You finally complete your 21k (by the time Rohan baba has also done his) so it’s just a cool down walk till you meet your MRR folks. 

It feels good to be back to a place you love so much, around friends and runners. You high five and you hug people who you’ve not seen in a long while, while indulging in some picture take outing (like we runners love doing, after all how will the world know (and if not the world then social media know) that we went for a run), cribbing about the weather (when by now you should be used to the Mumbai weather), enquiring what’s the next race you’ve registered, and shamelessly crashing into photographs like only you could do and get away with (cause you’re not that innocent).

So in the end it’s a Sunday well spent, running a familiar route that’s continuously changing, and meeting a whole loads of friends on the way. What more would runner want!!! And hey did I mention it was Friendship Day too!!!

A Second Helping of Passion

They sat there, next to each other, trying to watch a show they both would like. It was a rainy night and they were more than happy to be snug and dry and away from the pouring rains, and the noisy traffic jam way down below.

The rain created a moody, lazy climate, the perfect environment for some passionate lovemaking,and they did. They had succumbed to their desires, their passion, their cranial needs, letting their wildness and passion mingle with each other, as they devoured each other, exploring every inch of each other’s body, kissing, licking, sucking, caressing, squeezing, biting, and tasting each other. Not letting even an inch go unexplored, not letting an inch go untasted , not letting even an inch stay dry. Their body heat keeping them warm, their body now covered with sweet sweat.

They made the most of their wildness, their passion, but now they were clothed and seated there trying to decide what to watch. It wasn’t like that their passion had cooled down, it was just simmering below the surface. It wasn’t like they were spent force, they just as much liked to enjoy the calm between those wild moments.

Even though they sat next to each other, he couldn’t resist running his hands through his hair, rubbing shoulders. Like lovers who couldn’t keep their hand off each other. But they weren’t lovers. They really didn’t know what they were, cause they never thought of labelling what they had. They were two souls that connected well, that were able to bond well, and were now connected sexually too. Though at times he did wonder what they were, secretly hoping for something deeper.

He pulled him closer, and he obliged, sitting between his legs. Although he tried hard to concentrate on what was going on the screen, he felt drawn to him, a magnetic pull, a moth to the flame. He couldn’t keep himself from touching him, from playing with his hair, from kissing his neck. He didn’t want to stop, but he felt he needed to control himself.

It didn’t help that he reacted to his every touch, his every kiss, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as he could feel his lips on his skin.

He pulled him and took him on his lap, letting him continue to kiss his neck, and all over shoulder. His every touch, his every lick, his every caress was turning him on, slowly reigniting that passion that was still very much crackling in the embers.

He removed his tee, giving him access to a wider canvas than his neck, once again letting it be explored and tasted and kisses and caressed.

He, on his part, unbuttoned his shirt, and buried his face in his chest, squeezing and kissing it and fondling like, that’s if his firm chest could be fondled. 

He bit and sucked on his nipples, like a man greedily devouring food after a fast. He sucked on his nipples like he was hoping it would miraculously lactate with sweet nectar. The more he heard him mourn and curse, the more he got turned on, the more wild he got.

He liked the feeling that he brought to his nipples, but he also felt the searing pain with each bite, with each nibble. At the same time he felt the pleasure, the need, the desire to continue. Even though he knew it would leave him feeling sore and bruised, he didn’t mind it. And even though he put a fight, his body wanted him to give in and give into his mouth. And so he alternatively moaned and cursed, taking in every moment.

As he tugged hair back, when he couldn’t take the pleasure and the pain, slowly kissing his face, and then his neck, his chest , his nipples, and moving slowly down, freeing his manhood, taking it deep within, trying not to gag, sucking, kissing, making it wet, tasting the sweet and salty nectar of his vim. The more he moaned they more he tried to suck him deeper, stopping to see his expression, which was to immaculate, a beautiful sight.

And so it went on for a few minutes, their passionate and wild expression of their desires, their kinks. This was no love making, they didn’t want to call it that or even use the L for what they had between them. They wanted to concentrate on nurturing their bond and their careers, rather than jumping on to the relationship bandwagon. Neither did they want to call this a hookup, no matter how it may seem to the world outside. It wasn’t random, and it wasn’t fleeting. They did share a bond, a liking for each other, but they had no intention of jumping the gun and taking it into a territory that would make it awkward for them.

So they hugged and kissed and let their passion burn bright, and when it came time to say good night, they hugged each other tight, letting their vibes flow through each other, mingle with each other, promising to meet again soon, but this time in a non sexual situation.

Wicked Game

It’s a wicked game we play when we make someone feel this way. It’s a wicked thing we do, when we make someone dream of you. In a world that’s constantly swiping left or right, it’s a wicked game we play.

In a world that’s either looking for a soulmate, or just a date, or just to fuck and forget, something long-term, or just a short-term casual fun, it’s a wicked game we play when we let someone believe in you.

And though we have our own agenda, our purpose, our own reason, we still play these wicked games building hope for those who believe it’s true.

We play these games by saying the words that a ear is yearning to hear, that a lonely soul’s thirsting to hear. We may not always mean it but still we say it, cause that’s the thing we do. We build hope, we build dreams, hoping and dreaming that what we are led to believe will come true, only to see them shatter into a thousand pieces. It’s a wicked game we play when we let someone hope about you.

In a world that’s enamoured by photographs and social media, by skin and toned bodies, it’s these pictures that seduces us, the pictures that draws in. But what happens when you meet but you hoped for isn’t met? It’s a game that we play to loose. It’s a wicked game of heartbreak, ending with someone being just another like on an app, just another match, just a number in your phone’s memory that’s soon going to be ghosted, that’s soon going to be forgotten.

It’s a game where we let our desires get the better of us. A game where we let our overthinking mind race ahead of us, where we let our lonely heart make us a gullible soul, easy to preyed on, a willing victim of our own choosing, turning us blind to red flags and detours, and filling our head with hope. It’s a wicked game make someone hope for you.

And even though we may know what’s in store, we gullibly let ourselves become pawns of these wicked games, players of these games.

It’s a wicked game we play when we make someone feel this way. It’s a wicked thing we do, when we make someone dream of you. In a world that’s constantly swiping left or right, it’s a wicked game we play.

Life… a Treasure

There’s so many things in life that’s worth treasuring more than money or gold, though I will confess that we can absolutely do with some money and/or gold.

Life is full of little moments and people and things that’s worth treasuring. Life itself  is a treasure. It’s the one that you have been blessed with, unique and beautiful, different from that of others, no matter how much feel it’s the same, no matter how much you try to compare it with that of others. No matter what you feel about life it’s worth treasuring. 

Every little moment is an opportunity to grow and be better, to make memories to cherish, to treasure for when days are  low and gloomy, memories that will brighten up any dullness, banish any darkness that clouds your heart, your mind. Moments once gone will never come back. Moments that you can never go back to, chances and opportunities that you may miss, that you may never get again. 

Every little moment comes together to build the life you live, the life you experience, the life you treasure.

Life is full of memories that you will hold close to your heart. Memories that act like a soothing balm that eases the pain when you are hurting bad. Memories like a piping hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, or a cup of Chai on a rainy day, or a bowl of warm soup  when you have a cold, that warms your heart and soothes your soul.

Life is full of people who will come and go, who will affect you, who will change you, who will  meld meld and mould you, aiding you to become who you are , for better or worst. People who will be there for maybe just a fleeting moment but can still affect a change. 

There are those who will stay with you for quite a while, helping you to grow. 

Everyone who comes into to your life, comes in it for a reason, we may never understand that reason, until long after they’re  gone. 

You will come across all sort of people, the good, the bad, the ugly, the happy, the sad, and even douchebags. Some who you would rather forget. But then who you hold dear to you will continue to remain with you forever, long after they are gone, cause they are etched on the walls of your heart, your mind, an imprint, an image, a treasure. 

You never know when it would be the last moment with them, so you cherish every moment with them, you treasure them.

Life is full of memories, moments, experiences, people, that may seem to bring  you down , but can  also uplift you. Life is full of things that you will hold close to you, that you will treasure.

Life is a treasure chest that you hold close to you, hold dear to you, for all eternity.

Running in the Park in the Rains

There’s something magical about running in the rains. You actually don’t mind it pouring, when you are out there running. Any other time it could be a pain, but not when you are  out there running. The rains are a welcome relief, a soothing balm to tired joints, natural coolant that keeps your body from overheating.

You ran through the heat and humidity. You sweated a bucketload of sweat, sometimes even causing your mother to wonder whether that’s sweat or did you pee in your pants. Though your mileage were low and the weather relentless, you continued to brave it through the heat and humidity. And now that the rains are here, you can slowly and steadily build on your distance while still making the most of the rains.

The rain has a way of making everything so magical and beautiful and romantic. The smell of rain on wet mud is simply intoxicating, filling your senses with this beautiful scent that’s oh so divine.

The moment you step into the park you are greeted by all this sound. It’s like every creature in the two mile radius thinks they’re Elvis. What would have been a cacophony of sounds is actually a symphony when it all comes together, nature’s very own orchestra.

Everything looks brighter and cleaner. The rains seemed to have washed away all the dirt and grime, leaving everything so clean and a little less dirty. Yes there’s the muck and the millions of puddles, but then that’s ok, it can be easily be overlooked, or overstepped, or just hopped across!

The trees too have shaken off all the dust and grime that they accumulated all the year round. They are all green and bright and fresh and light. It’s like a weight has been lifted off them and now they are light and bright and standing all glistening and glowing and green.

It fills your heart with joy to see the water in the stream, which had dried up for the summer. You know that as the season progresses, this would no longer be a little stream, but a flowing river, filled with water and morons, that also includes me.

The rain leaves the park all Misty, making it oh so dreamy, oh so mysterious. You wonder what secrets the park would hide behind that mist, would the furry one be lurking somewhere not too far.

And so you continue to run, with a spring in your step and joy in your heart, letting the rain fall on you, wan all of you, washing away all the sweat and grime, taking away all the weariness of your tired bones, cooling you, healing you, washing away the tears, giving you a cover to hide it from the world. 

You ensure that no puddle remains unvisited, no puddle remains unsplashed. You just run through it, instead of finding your way across it, never minding your shoes and socks is getting all wet, occasionally jumping right into it to create a splash, not bothering about the side eye you get from others, it’s the child in you that’s always going to want to make the most of a rainy day.

So you run, not bothering that it’s pouring, or that you are soaked to the bone (you would have been all wet anyway, from all the sweat), you just run, and let the rain wash away not just the dirt on your body, but also the pain in your soul, ultimately finding a way to soothe your soul. So you run for the joy in your heart, for the pain and anxiety, you don’t stop, you just run, and you just let the rain do its magic. 

What more could you ask from life when you get to run in the park in the rains!!