Monsters

They didn’t have the best of relationship, the most cordial of relationship. Their relationship was so strained that it began to fray around the edges because of all the tension. They each wondered why the other couldn’t be more like the others, normal and accepting.

He always felt that in his heart knew that he could never become the son that his father wanted him to be, though he tried his earnest and darnedest best to make him proud, but somehow he always felt he fell short. He could never be the man his father wanted him to be because of who he was. 

He wondered if his father would ever accept him for he was, the life he chose, the love he chose, if he only knew. And though he never truly spoke about it, opened up about it, he always had this thought that he would never accept him for he was, cause once, a longtime a go, he had shared his view on the subject.  

So that view stayed with him, stuck with him and never truly allowed him to share himself with his father, to tell him his truth.

He had always thought he favoured his daughters more than his son cause they took up after him. The phone calls, the message,  the chats, that he didn’t receive, made him feel left out and unloved. An outcast, an anomaly.

It didn’t help that in a drunken state his father declared that he was not his son! These words cut deep and stabbed him badly, leaving a wound that never quite healed. He lived with his whole life with this scar, with this resentment, but at the same time with this regret that he could never quite heal from this hurt, or forgive these words.

But still here they were, two grown men trying to say their goodbyes. And although he knew that he still had some resentments, some grudges, scars and unhealed wounds, he knew there had been many moments of genuine love, of kindness, of tenderness, of bonding. And for these he had to let go of all the bitterness he held inside.

In that moment there was no wrongs or rights, no ways to forgive and forget. They both knew the mistakes that they had made. But now it was time to let go and just be two grown men trying to let go of the past, trying to find a way to reconcile, find a way to heal.

He remembered a time when his father chased the monster, lurking in the shadows and under his bed, away. So now it was his turn to the do the same.

So he patted him on arms, and kissing his forehead, and whispered him to sleep, hoping while he slept he could still find a way to make him proud. 

So he said his goodbye, as he saw him take his last breath, and through the tears he whispered, “Daddy now it’s my turn to chase your monsters away!”

.. the hills are alive with the Sound of Music

“The hills are alive with the Sound of Music, with the songs they have sung for a thousand years, the hills fill my heart with the Sound of Music, my heart wants to sing every song it hears!”

These were verses that I had heard a thousand time before, and I will hear a thousand times again, but never in this way. And now that I have experienced it once again, in such a new and different (at least for me), and beautiful way, I am once again going to treasure these moments close to my heart.

Watching something so beloved, so cherished, unfold in front of your eyes is a treat (even if it cost a bomb to watch it). It had my heart from the very first Do to the last Ti. My spirit soared as it climbed every mountain, ford every stream. I was willing to follow any rainbow to watch this beautiful Broadway calibre musical live! My heart felt like it was sixteen going on seventeen, waiting to hear from the lonely goat herd. Indeed a few of my favourite things, smelling the edelweiss on those beautiful hills of Salzburg. 

It’s a dream come true to see something that you have been brought up watching, listening to, that you have sung a million times before (in your not so melodious voice), to witness it, makes you realise how blessed you are.

You couldn’t help yourself but sing along, and be amazed that you could hear many others in this magnificent (but slightly Gujju) theatre, sing along with you. 

Each song was so melodiously sung, beautifully staged, and those amazing sets, met with well deserved applause. Each song taking you back to your childhood, leaving you nostalgic, leaving you awestruck and blessed.

Every scene, every set, felt familiar but still felt oh so new. Still felt so breathtakingly beautiful. Still felt you were watching something for the first time in forever, for the first time all over again.

Every scene, every act, every song, every character moved you, lifted you, left you wiping that little tear in your eye, that lump in your throat, cause face it you are an emotional fool, a sucker who will tear up at a drop of a hat. And this is something so beloved to you, how could you not get teary eyed. 

Especially when Mother Superior sing Climb Every Mountain to Maria, this scene will so remain etched in my memory for all eternity.

The stained glass cross and it’s reflection on the floor, and the song, that song that always moved me, gave me goosebumps, inspired me (definitely not to sing, cause I croak), did just that, and then some more. It left me teary eyed, and replaying in my head a thousand times!

But then there were thing you did quite miss (thanks to the movie being so dear to you). First thing you did miss was the great and magnificent and beautiful Dame Julie Andrews, though the actress playing Maria did a brilliantly amazing job filling in those huge shoes, she was no Julie Andrew. 

You missed the regality and poise and handsomeness of Christopher Plummer. The Baroness came across a tad bit hammy and lacked the sophistication and poise of the character. Then you missed some of the songs like “I have confidence”, and the children singing“Edelweiss” with Capt Vin Trapp for the first time. 

You missed some of the scenes that were switched up, like “Favourite thing” was replaced  by the “The Lonely Goat her”, when the children sing it with Maria during the storm, though I loved how “Favourite Things” was used as a way to show the bond between Mother Superior and Maria. 

Then of course “The Lonely Goat Herd” sung with the puppets, was sorely missed.

The developing romance between the captain and Maria felt rushed and was only kind of mentioned. 

You missed the beautiful choreography that was so much part of the movie. The second half a tad too many reprises, which tended to drag the show (but you can’t fault the show as this was inherent in the movie itself).

In the end, these were just a few minor quibbles that easily got outweighed by the magnificence and beauty of the entire show, that left you awe struck and amazed, but most importantly left you entertained and moved, a truly wonderful experience that you’ll cherish forever.

And if you ever needed proof of how much the audience loved the show, you could see and hear it in the rapturous applause and the standing ovation that the cast received during the curtain call, with the loudest cheers reserved for Maria and Capt Von Trapp, (for me it was for Mother Superior who had an absolutely beautiful singing voice, and who so effortlessly hit those high notes).

And though the show may have come to an end and it was time to depart from the hills of Salzburg, and back to normalcy or life, you took a huge piece, a memory, from the play with you, and your heart was indeed filled with the Sound of Music.

Of Food and Company and a Trip Down Memory Lane

Walking down Mohammad Ali Road brought back so many memories, happy memories, of being there with friends, being there as a child, being there with your family, savouring those mouthwatering meals, whether it was Ramzan or not.

So you don’t mind that the streets are crowded, there’s traffic jams and vehicles all around who are going honk crazy, or that city is sweltering under the heat (and to think of it, summer hasn’t set in yet and it’s just pre-summer). You’re all excited and looking forward to having a wonderful evening in the company of your friends and enjoying some amazing food, and you get to to include your mum in it all (after all I am such a mumma’s boy). Moreover you get to relive so many memories, childhood memories.

What you are mindful is that you are late. Your friends have moved on to the starters and there’s no scope of getting a cab, so you have to make your mum walk for well over 1.6  kms (as indicated by Google maps) while dodging both people and  vehicles of the two-wheel kind. You sure can’t make your mum walk fast and she doesn’t want to consume water (which is important considering the weather  cause she doesn’t want to go or even use the washroom. So you are left with a slow progress, which you have to be ok with. 

Did I mention you also have to be mindful of your belonging on those crowded streets. And you have the announcer reminding you do so .

So by the time you are near the intended destination, or trying to find the intended location, your friends are almost done with the starters, so you are left with booking a table for good 17 people for the main course, and patiently waiting for them to arrive, while you get your mum a seat cause your sure she’s tired from all the walking (making up for her missed evening walks).

As you wait for a table (it’s not easy to get a table for 17) you see others too waiting for a table, and many enjoying their meals (oblivious to the heat and merciless honking outside). What you do notice that the number of non-Muslims outnumber actual Muslims. Friends and coworkers and families, out to enjoy a wonderful meal, the delicacies that the Ramzan season brings, serving a further testament that when not divided by politics and politicians and political parties and their ideologies (for their own selfish motives), people from different religions, different cultures, different walks of life, different social status, all come together in celebration, weaving a beautiful tapestry of harmony. And this is not just here, but in most festivals that the city celebrates. Just goes to show that we are willing and very able to live in harmony with each other when we are left to ourselves, without the interference with those with evil ways.

Anyway, we get our table  and place our orders, listening to the recommendations as we decide what we have to eat.  

And trust me the food  is delicious. All the Kormas, the Bottis, the Niharis, Biryani, Paya soup (got to mention this for my mumma) are so delicious and flavourful in every morsel, but  there’s that one ingredient that that ties it all together and that is the company you share this meal with. 

So whether it’s your family, your friends, your coworkers, your colleagues, your peers, your significant other, or even a total stranger, all make the meal even more meaningful and beautiful.

So over giggle and laughters and good natured ribbing, over conversations on the weirdest of topics, and taking photos ( how is that possible with me around and there being no pics), you are bonding with your fellow diners, the ones partaking these meals with you. And over these conversations, and wolfing down some delicious food, you are getting to know them better, their backgrounds, their cultures, their food, everything beyond running, even over peels of laughters and discussions of what race next, and clicking and posing for the millionth pic (how’s that even possible with so many runners and with yours truly).

In these moments, beyond the setting we usually see each other, you are cementing the bonds you’ve created, and making some beautiful and delightful memories that you’re going to cherish.

Now how is it even possible that you make a trip to Mohammad Ali Road and not treat yourself to some delightful dessert? In those moments your diet, your calorie count, what your trainer says, all goes out of the window. If you truly want to enjoy these delicious delicacies you need shut all these from your mind.

So once the plates are cleared and the bill is paid, you make your way down and into the street, one with the crowd and into the needless honking. Only this time you are not making your in the direction you would normally go to. But instead you’re going some place where you have never been to before. 

Once again it’s a slow walk, cause you can’t hurry your mum. So you walk slowly, trying not to loose your friends, wondering when would this place actually come. And the place was surely worth the walk.

The sight of a beautifully round Malpua deep frying in that kadai, can send any diet conscious person and their dietitian and trainer into a tizzy (I told you, they need to be left back at home and away from the mind), but for people like me, it’s a sight, an amazement, a delight, one that gets you all salivating. It’s not an indulgence, it’s not cheating, it’s called eating without guilt, enjoying the cuisine, giving your senses and your taste buds a feast, a treat, one they deserve, and you deserve. 

You’ve got to appreciate these beautiful delicacies cause they are what’s binding us together.

So you greedily wolf down phirnis, a biscuit with delicious mawa in the centre and the unmissable and piping hot Malpua with delicious rabri. You truly are in food in heaven. And when you had your fill of these delicacies, you wash it down with some nice cool falsa soda, the perfect coolant for a warm summer evening(not sure if it is paired with all that you have wolfed down, but that doesn’t matter, as long as it doesn’t upset your system), and considering the heat, and the awesomeness of the drink, one glass just won’t do.

And with that last glass of falsa, it’s time to head home, as it’s school night, make that a work night. You don’t quite look forward to walk back to the station. Your full but content belly doesn’t quite do you any favour. Also you don’t want to make your mum walk through the crowd again. So you book cab, bid farewell to your running buddies, and patiently wait for your ride to arrive, as it makes it way through those crowded street.

And with its arrival, it marks an end to a wonderful gastronomical evening of amazing food, awesome company, and amazingly crazy conversations, leaving all your senses completely satisfied, and your mum too had a good time, what else could you ask for.

Of Sanskars and Religion

Someone once said, “Change is the only constant in life.” If you want to survive, you’ve got learn to change with time, or be left behind forever. And then there are some who just refuse to change, who don’t want to change, and don’t want others to change too. 

They believe that change hurts them and is against their beliefs, their religions, their sansakars. This actually makes you wonder which century are these people from? Have they been watching one too many saas-babu serials? What have they been smoking, which would again be against their sanskars, but you never know! But then they have their own motives for doing so.

As humans we are constantly evolving, constantly changing, constantly growing. As part of this evolution, this change, this growth, is the way we see ourselves, the way we perceive ourselves, the way we identify ourselves. Along with it so has our values and culture which have to change, evolve or risk becoming outdated and irrelevant. Even the concepts of family and marriage has changed, from joint families to a nuclear family, from marriage within your caste and religion to inter-caste, inter-faith marriages, to marriage between nationalities. So why shouldn’t the union partners of the same-sex not be accepted and recognised.

But that said we cannot and should not forget our values and culture. We just need it to evolve with time and stay relevant and inclusive. And with we should evolve too.

But then there are those who don’t want this change. Maybe they want to stay relevant? Maybe they don’t want to loose the grip or the control that they have? Maybe they have their own selfish motives to keep their powers? They may say that they are upholding their sansakars, defending their religion, but what they exactly are defending religion from, when there’s no one attacking their religion and religious beliefs and their sanskars. In fact what they are doing, and I do hope they realise that is they are causing more damage to not only their religion but also to humanity. 

They are doing their bit in destroying the very fabric of life. They are comfortable in welding their sanskars and religion to spread hate, and divide and pit one community with another (and here we blamed the Britishers for doing this but more than happy to use it for our own selfish power and political games).

They are more of a danger to their sanskars, their religion, to humanity as whole. Their hate and fear mongering, could be a sole reason why so many are turning away from religion, value and God. It could easily be the reason why we are a nation divided and persecuted, no matter how much we may want to deny this. It is the reason why so many feel ostracised, outcast, unloved , uncared, anxious and depress. It is the reason why so many are scared and destroyed.

No one wakes up in the middle night, or wakes up one day and decides to be gay. No one on a whim decide they are not comfortable in their own skin, they do not relate to the gender they have been assigned at birth. It’s not something unnatural or against nature, as we are led to believe. It’s something that’s always been there. Something that comes to surface slow and steadily. We don’t choose who we feel attracted to or who we fall for, it something that’s always going to be there and comes naturally. It’s been suppressed for fear of acceptance, of ostracism, living in a state of constant denial.

If we believe that GOD is LOVE and the one who lives in Love, lives in God and God lives in them, then how is this form of love any different from other form of love, apart of the fact that you love the person of the same gender. This feeling is that of love and not lust, so why should this love be treated differently, why should this love not be accepted, why should this love not be recognised, why should this love be denied equal rights.

Being gay isn’t one big drug-filled, hedonistic, sexual  orgy. Being gay is more than being flamboyant, being effimate, being sexual. Damn it more than than wanting to hit on anything walking on two legs with the same parts. Trust me you don’t need to be gay for that, as many female can attest for it.

When someone asks for the right for their union to be recognised, the right to be recognised and accepted, they not  trying make mockery of the institution, or trying to disrespect any religion or religious tradition. It is out of want of acceptance and respect for religion and religious custom do they want their union to be recognised, to be accepted for who they are and who they choose to love.In fact they are way more respectful than any heterosexual couple. What they want is not to be forced into marriage of convenience, into something what is acceptable to society which will end up destroying so many lives.

The ones who find their sansakar being hurt are in fact the ones doing the most damage  with their outdated the thinking, their refusal to accept change .

Being gay is not a mental illness. In fact there’s no evidence that members of the community cannot enjoy civil rights like marriage, adoption, etc. On the contrary discrimination may lead to mental health issues (as stated by the Indian Psychiatric Society).

So if we believe in equal right to all, then why do the members of the community not be afforded this equal right that we speak about in the constitution. Why do we discriminate and persecute and suppress to those who do no conform to society’s rules on love and gender?

The question we beg to ask is when would we be able live as equals, in harmony and peace irrespective of religion, gender, age, orientation? 

Though at the moment it maybe a distant dream, it’s a dream nonetheless, one that can be achieved if we keep persevering and not be defeated or brought down, cause in the end…

हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन
हो हो मन में है विश्वास, पूरा है विश्वास
हम होंगे कामयाब एक दिन

Colour Me

I don’t really celebrate Holi, never really got why we need to apply all that colour and then spend the rest of the week removing it. Or maybe it stemmed from the fact that growing up we were never really allowed to celebrate it as my aunt would say it not Catholic to celebrate a Hindu festival (something I have grown out of by now as there’s no religion to celebration) or how can you celebrate a festival during lent (as Holi inadvertently fell during lent) and how do you celebrate during lent, a time for fasting and abstaining (again something that I was always told by my aunts. We did however celebrate it with water but we were never allowed to waste too much and also there was the scare of catching a cold.

Well that’s that about not celebrating Holi in my childhood,but somehow here I was wanting to be part of the celebration, not because I wanted to celebrate, but because I didn’t want to be by myself, all on my own with just me and my mind. 

I had been riding a low wave and didn’t want to go through a downward spiral. It was not as if I wanted to be around these people or long for their company, I just wanted to be around people, to loose myself and the loneliness I was feeling. And if I was around people who I knew, not some complete strangers then that was perfectly fine.

I was furious at myself for putting myself in this predicament. How did I even get here? Haven’t I not learned from the past? Why was my history repeating itself? Maybe this was what they meant when they said that history repeats itself because men repeat their mistake (make that because people repeat their mistake, well we need to sensitive about gender neutrality).

I had promised never to put someone else’s priorities before yours. Not to make someone, who wasn’t you the centre of your universe, make someone your priority. Yet here you were, back at square one, driving yourself bonkers, going into overthinking overdrive.

How could you do this to yourself. It’s good to be loving and kind, that’s your inherent nature, but that shouldn’t come at a cost of your mental well being. And yet you found yourself doing  just that, and you hated yourself for that.

You hated the insecurity and uncertainty, not knowing what was there, or if there’s anything was there in the first place. You hated this feeling that made your even more anxious, driving you off the cliff.

You hated the fact that you were being considerate of the others situation, the others feeling without being sensitive to your feelings, to your needs, to what you wanted. 

You hated you couldn’t express it, communicate what you felt, what you wanted, because you were too afraid of hurting and being hurt, afraid of loosing it all.

You hated that you had expectations and that when you did something and not get what you had expected you were left feeling this hurt. You hated the disappointment when you didn’t get the response you expected, you wanted and then you are left feeling guilty of having done the same in the past.

You just didn’t wanted to be a text and no phone calls, a formality. You just didn’t wanted to be taken for granted, but you feared that was what was exactly happening.

And to make matters worst, work life sucked too, like it always does, stressing you out even more.

So you had the whole self-hate, self-loathing, hurt and loneliness in you. You didn’t want to be alone, so you went for the celebration. And it did exactly what you hope it to do.

Though I tried to runway when my friends try to colour, it was all just an act, to show as if I didn’t want to be coloured. In my head I wanted them to apply that colour cause it was a way to hide the sadness that I felt . And somehow the colour did just that and then some more, it actually made forget my cares, made me forget the pain that I felt, the downward spiral that I had found myself in. It helped me loose myself and enjoy the moment with people who were friends, though not all close, but yet dear to me (of course, me being me).

And as I found myself being coloured it felt like my monochrome life was getting a technicolor touch. In those moment I was able to put behind my cares and loneliness and just celebrate the moment, enjoy it, cherish it, savour it, smile and laugh my cares away. 

I couldn’t help but admire the unbridled joy and happiness of those around me. I definitely shied away from the celebration, but couldn’t help myself but enjoy and partake in their joy. And what else, they took to spreading it to others too, irrespective of age, gender, cast, religion, ethnicity, nationality. What was more special was that others joined in too, to partake in the festival, to partake in the celebrations, the joy. It was no longer was a festival of a particular religion, a particular nationality, it was festival for all, a way of not just celebrating but bringing souls together and making everyone smile. That what festivals are meant to do, bring people closer.

I would have normally not really want to get myself coloured, cause it’s painstakingly difficult to get it all off, but in that moment I was glad that I decided to join in the fun, cause it made me forget how lonely and low I was feeling, how desperate and hopelessly lost I was, and just have a lot of fun.

In those moments my life went from jaded to bright, from monochrome to technicolor, colouring my life with joy.

I ran a 50k.. but I am no Ultra Runner

So I ran a 50k, an Ultra, in running terminology (just in case you were wondering what is this jargon cause the only Ultra you know is your ultra strong beer), but I am no ultra runner. As I mentioned in my Insta post, that’s if you follow me, I.e. rodmandsouza (damn, me and my shameless self-promotion), a single ultra run doesn’t make you an ultra runner. I am neither inclined towards it nor do I have time to train for it , cause it can take the hell out of your daily life, that’s if you even have one thanks to us being slaves to our jobs. It’s never been on my bucket list of things I wanted to do (I did, at one time, toyed with the idea of running the Comrades), but still I found my myself standing at that starting line up waiting for the  click to strike 1:30 (that’s in the am and not the pm, and root cause of my bane).

So here I was at the starting line, waiting for the race start. I had done my stretching, courtesy of Coach, and done all the pre race mingling and socialising, so it was now the time to run. So moment the clock struck 1:30 and the fireworks went off, it was now time to run. So I start off all my apps (well it was three plus my iWatch, damn that’s a lot of tracking devices), make the sign of the cross (though I am not overly religious but these little beliefs I do), and I am off.

I realise I am bringing up the rear, there’s a sea of runners in front of me (surprisingly there are plenty of runners participating in the 50k), but try not to give into the temptation of speeding up. I have this constant voice in my head that sounded like Natty, Maya and my dearest Sangy ma’am , telling me to go slow and start easy and conserve energy, or maybe it’s just my sleep deprived mind playing tricks on me. But whatever it maybe, I am determined to run nice and easy.

So you run pass sleepy villages and sleepy dogs who just ignore you, their sleep way too important than to chase and bark after a group of crazy fools who are pounding the road instead of being tucked up in their beds. You run pass Bushy Dam and reach INS Shivaji, and from there begins your climb.

You decide to walk the slope, paying heed to the advice of Quintin and Ajay, not burning up energy tackling them. And while you run up the slow you take in the moment. The moon’s nowhere to be seen, and stars are out in all their glory. In the distance you have the lights of the town. And if that wasn’t enough, you have the headlamps which you were asked to carry, making it feel like a stream of fire flies slowly making their way up the hill, a kind of homage to the lantern scene from the movie Tangled.

So you slowly make your way up the hill, walking the slopes, slowly jogging where the route flattened. You can heat someone behind you chanting some shlok, which kind of bothers you, but then you are saying your rosary, like you always do (and because you are missing your Sunday mass), you try not to loose focus.

You finally make it to the top, and off you go, trying to run at a steady pace, walking up slopes, but running steadily and constant, not pushing for pace.

It’s a beautiful night, and although the moons is nowhere to be seen, the twinkling stars more than make up for it. There’s a chilly nip in the air that occasionally makes you shiver, making you feel glad you chose to wear a tee and not a vest, like you love to do. There’s silence, except for the feet stomping the road, and the chirping of crickets and the hum of the electricity flowing through the cables above.

You have this constant fear that you may need to crap, since you were not able to do your business in the morning, then you may need to go behind some bush to relieve yourself, like you have done before (shhhhh let this be our little secret). But thankfully that fear doesn’t come to pass.

As you pass by Cloud 9, you miss Srini Sir, with whom you have volunteered so many times in past training runs.

You continue to run up and down inclines and declines, past volunteers who are there in the dark to guide you, past photographers who make you hit your best strides and smiles, running slowly but steadily.

Soon you become kind of restless. You want the the u-then to appear soon, you already past the 35k u-turn, but your u-turn is nowhere in sight. It doesn’t help that you know when the turn will come and your apps doesn’t make it easy by telling you how far you are.

Then you see the first runner go by you, then a second and a third , and so and so forth. You gradually see all those fire flies coming your way, bringing you hope that the much awaited u-turn is coming up soon, but again your apps tell you to be patient .

You try to make out your friends, as they pass you, wondering if you could just turn there and joining them instead of running all those kms. But you continue to soldier on. When you you finally reach the u-turn, it’s like a great relief, you finally reached the halfway mark of you crazy adventure.

And then it’s hits you like a ton of brick. No, no, it’s not the infamous wall, but it was sleep. You begin to doze off, like only you could do, veering treacherously off the road, like a drunken runner who’s had one too many beers before going for a run, or a zombie that’s decided to take up running.

I try hard to wipe the sleep off my eyes, but that doesn’t help. I even put off my music and put my earbuds back. I constantly keep

pouring and splashing water on my face and my eyes, but that doesn’t quiet help either. For a few moment I am wide awake and then I am off in another world, only to find myself in the bushes, like only this sleepy head can do  (just ask Natty and Rups about my capacity to fall asleep). I even approach an ambulance hoping there’s someone who could help me, or even offer me a place to sleep. I even toy with the idea of just going off the road and going to sleep (after all the beautiful cool weather didn’t make it easy in my fight against sleep). I even contemplated about giving up, but then Greens don’t give up, oops I meant D’souzas never give up. So I once again soldier on, constantly battling sleep, constantly veering here and there like a drunken running fool.

A few runners stop by me asking me if I was ok. I sheepishly tell them, well make that sleepishly, tell them that I am ok, just damn sleepy. My head starts to question myself why did I even take up this stupid silly endeavour and at this ungodly hour. But for now there’s nothing I can do but like Dory, but on land, I have to just keep running.

I pass by water stations who by now have run out of water, making you feel the pain of all the slow runners, making you feel worried for the ones behind you. But you can only keep running and hope nothing untoward happens.

By now the suns up but you are grateful that it’s not hot but rather pleasant. The sounds of the birds chirping is like music to the lonely ears.  But every rustling sound in trees makes you attentive least something should leap out and surprise you, and not in a good way. 

By now your sleepiness has gone but there’s still quite a lot of road to cover, and you have miles to go before you sleep (couldn’t resist adding this) and inclines to cover. But now you can proceed steadily.

You finally reach then airforce station, knowing that now it will be just declines and rolling hills, things you can easily cover. So you grab a gloucose water and you are running steadily and strongly, knowing there’s roughly just 10 more kilometres to cover.

By now you are passing your well wishers who had stopped and checked on you when you were sleepy, who marvel on how you were able to make up time. You cheer your fellow runners on, like you love to do, and having conversations too. But once you hit downhill you run steadily and strong and focused knowing there’s just few more kilometres to go. And you got this in the bag.

You marvel at the fact that you haven’t felt s single cramp or muscle pull or soreness. So you definitely did something right. And touchwood, that wouldn’t happen for the last part of the race.

You surprise yourself that you are running at a pace that you started, and though it maybe slow, you don’t feel sore, just you feel a bit tired.

You finally hit the last part and you are even able to speed up and overtake runners, speeding down the ramp and to the finish line, without a single cramp.

You give yourself a cheer and a pat on your back for pushing through sleep and the urge of wanting to giving up, persevering on and getting the run done.

Well no run is complete without gratitude for the people who got you there.

So a big thank you to my dearest coach Jayesh, who has been pushing me and keeping me on my toes, and bearing with all my whining and grumbling (I can be quite the grumpy old man) with regards to my fitness and strength training, which is very important for us runner. 

To coach Girish for your constant motivation and inspiration and your tips and guidance on tackling TUM and not to forget the training runs (although I ran only once and volunteered for the remaining, which is more like me).

To my dearest Sangy ma’am, your advice is my blessing. 

To my support system, my backbone, my constant North Star, Nikhil, Natty, Maya, Rups and Yash, you all gave me so much positivity, and encouragement, even when I doubted myself.  You believed me more than I believed in myself.

To Quintin and Ajay, I learnt soo many things running with you both, so many things I could apply in the race and that worked well. 

To Dyloo l and Panks, I am because I was  able to run with you. 

And to my Stride with GB and MRR family, I am each day grateful that I am part of such wonderful group of runners who have constantly inspired and motivated and cheered me on.

And finally to my family, for being there for me (if my mum was there she would have scolded me for running s 50 and not a 35).

So to answer the question I started with, would running a 50k make me an ultra runner? The answer still is a resounding NO. Cause even though I was able to attempt and complete an ultra, I don’t see myself doing one again (although I am not quite shutting the door on that one), I don’t plan to run another. But then who knows, if some crazy pagal kutta may bite me and I will attempt another. So till then I will savour the fact I ran a 50k and was able to complete it.

Memories at Sea

I sat there staring at the vastness of the sea that lay before me. The sea in all it beauty and mightiness and vastness, twining with the sky above, separated by just one fine line in the distant horizon, dotted with sailboats, yachts and what-nots, bobbing up and down as seagulls flew above trying to perch themselves on its deck.

There was something soothing in those rhythmic rise and fall, ups and downs, which were at times unsettling, but always calming. I wondered if the sea would ever calm when it’s constantly caught in the game of tug-of-war between the pulls of the earth, the moon and the sun. Somehow this beautiful and vast and unsettled sea in its way was a reflection of the mind thats constantly unsettled.

The beautiful sea breeze that blew on our face and messed our hair, filled the sails of our beautiful little yacht, powering us onward and forward, leaving us mesmerised as to how quick we were moving onward, leaving land behind, as the Taj and the Gateway of India, in all their regal splendour, became just distant specs in a distant shore, as the wind propelled us onwards.

And then there was the sun that was slowly clocking out for the day, but not before it painted it’s canvas in various breathtaking hues, the golden, hour, the perfect light to click pics, which we took full advantage of, but not before spending moments marvelling at the vast painting before us, that was being painted before our eyes, a truly breathtaking sight, a memory that will remain forever and eternity, outliving even our mortal souls.

I sat there listening to Sagar as he explained the various points at sea, educating us about his passion and love for sailing and his many fascinating and captivating anecdotes about his time at sea, as he guided our little yacht onward, with the help of the crew and of course Yaanez.

As much I was fascinated listening to Sagar and the conversation of my fellow landlubbers, the painting in front of me kept drawing me to it, a constant ever changing canvas.

The sun by now had gone beyond the horizon, off to bring light somewhere beyond that horizon. And now that the sun was gone, the moon was no where to be seen, the stars came out to play, to shine and twinkle in the night sky, to their heart’s delight, like beautiful diamonds on a velvet cushion of inky blue, un obstructed, not outshined, by the light of the moon. A beautiful site, with the only competition coming from the twinkling lights of oil rigs, exploration vessels, ships, and other yacht on one side, and the lights of the distant shore.

We sailed deep into the ocean, aided by the wind that filled our sails and moved us forward and onwards, ridding the waves, bobbing up and down, an exhilarating feeling, and at time a bit scary too, if you have done it before, like riding a roller coaster. We sailed past the final point indicating the Mumbai harbour.

And then it was time to make the journey back, back to the shore that we had left behind a few hours ago. So Sagar and the crew shifted the direction of the sails and guided the yacht, directing it to shore.

While we sat there, some talking, some quiet, but all taking in every moment of the wonderful excursion, this wonderful experience. 

And somewhere Stand by Me began to play. Ok Yaanez played it on her Spotify, and we all joined in, singing as B. B. King, singing for the joy in our heart, singing because we were happy and our spirit soaring, more appropriately l, sailing.A moment that will etched forever in our memory.

We slowly made our way back to shore, making it pass lighthouses that were unmanned and not operational, and other landmarks and boats, slowly as we were against the mighty breeze.

Finally we came to the little boat that would take us back to shore. We one by one made got into the boot, not before thanking the wonderful crew, and our gratitude to Sagar and Yaanez for this wonderful experience, and giving us wonderful memories at sea. 

Sailing was ever on my list, on my list of things I wanted to do before I go to the great beyond, it was something I never I knew I needed to experience. But now that I had , now that I did, I was going to savour the memories, relive every moment of this beautiful memories at sea.