Running on empty

Running on Empty

We have all gone through these phases, that of hitting a wall.

By we, I mean the runners who regularly run marathons. A marathon is a distance of 42.2 kms and it’s a tough ball game. It’s a mind game as it comes and it’s a tough gruelling sport.

In Mumbai Marathon, which we now call as TMM (Tata Mumbai Marathon or which was called as SCMM (Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon), there are various stages which are devious to the runners.

A full marathon starts from V.T. station (now called as CST or Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus) but we still fondly call it as V.T. station only. Well, the start line is near the V.T. station adjacent to the BMC building. We wind our way past the D.N. Road with its heritage buildings onto the iconic Flora Fountain and then past Churchgate station to the Marine Drive promenade.

The Marine Drive promenade is a longish stretch of about little more than 4 kms as it winds its way towards the Girgaon Chowpatty. While going, the marathon is still in its nascent stage so one does not feel the muscles cramping, though there have been some runners who went out too fast like Usain Bolt running a marathon and cramped there itself.

Then we hit the climbs on Kemps Corner flyover, which is a very short flyover and onto Pedder Road which climbs gently giving early indications of the brutish nature of the route. You hit Haji Ali, past the Worli Sea Face and enter Worli Sea Link which is the most boring part of the route. The Worli Sea Link no doubt is breathtakingly beautiful with its cantilevered bridge, but bereft of spectators, it’s the most boring part of the route.

You have photographs there aplenty but they are more interested in clicking the early morning sunrise over Mahim bay then the struggling runners.

When you turn into Mahim causeway and from there into Shivaji Park, it’s the best part of the route as you have people lined up on the roads cheering for you and giving you hi-fives. You also have a lot of food to eat on this route, a veritable buffet spread with biscuits, fruits, energy drinks galore.

After turning from Poddar Hospital we enter back into Worli Sea Face, which is again the second most boring part of the route and it goes on and on like a never ending coil and then turns back on its route. By then the kms have entered the 30 km stage and you are beginning to tire out and start walking cum running.

The runner turns into Haji Ali again and what follows is a brutal climb on the Pedder Road. It’s a gentle climb no doubt and the runner must have run there on umpteen occasions, but by then its already 35 kms and the runner is now “running on empty”. He is a zombie now barely able to recognise his fellow runners, his hands automatically going out to grab whatever fruit or drink is offered by the numerous vociferously cheering spectators. This stretch is a true test of the runner’s mental spirit.

The last or the second last stretch, i.e. on the Marine Drive promenade is a death chamber. By the time you arrive at this stretch, its already past 8.00 a.m. and the sun is out in its full glory. There is nary any tree cover as you plod your way through the teeming mass of struggling runners in various stages of discomfort. You cheer them and they cheer you in return knowing fully well, that it is the only motivation that is going to take you through to the finish line.

When you turn from Jazz by the Bay corner, that is about the last km or so to the finish line. You have the achieved the stage that is just below nirvana. You are ecstatic at crossing the finish line yet unable to speed up as various muscles known and unknown to you are cramping up at various parts of your body.

Flora fountain is the last known structure before you enter the Fort area with its heritage buildings on both sides. You cross the finish line at near the Azad Maidan and you are garlanded with the medal and when you collapse at the medical tent, you know what your achieved – you have run on empty for the last 10 to 12 kms in order to become a marathoner. You are a marathoner.

daily word prompt

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

Train is the preferred mode of transport for me for going on a cross country trip. Although it is arduous, tiring, trains are late, the toilets are dirty and stinky, still i would take the romance of a train travel anytime over bus, car, bike or airplane. Bus is most tiring to the limbs and uncomfortable to sit and sleep. In trains one can extend your legs and take a nap especially in the air conditioned compartment. Airplane is too expensive. Cars i can take for short distances to nearby districts, not long travel. Bike i do not know how to ride, so that is ruled out.

In train travel, i get down on most stations to take pictures, stretch your limbs and take in the scenery of that small town or village. Train journeys have a romance that no other transport provides.

In train journeys, you get to meet people sitting opposite to you and listen to their stories and sometimes it becomes a long lasting friendship.

Piece

Piece

Just as he was finished his morning coffee, Raghav Iyer’s phone rang. When he looked at who was calling him so early in the morning, it showed Vanmali, his daughter, who is now settled in Canada. He looked at his watch, it was 6.12 a.m. here in Pondicherry, which means it must be 4.42 p.m., the previous day in Vancouver, Canada.

Vanmali told him “Appa please look at the breaking news” and then she asked to speak to her mother, i.e. his wife Gayatri. Gayatri spoke to Vanmali for a while, some typical mother daughter chat, mother inquiring about the grand kids and daughter looking up for some recipe.

Immediately after the call got over and he got his mobile back, he checked for the breaking news on his mobile alerts. What popped up as a news item was that Russia had invaded Moldova in the early hours of the previous morning. Raghav did not have the habit of checking the mobile frequently, so he had missed that breaking news.

The news sent back memories of the day way back in 2022, 24^th February when Russia had invaded Ukraine and his daughter Vanmali was then studying in a medical college out there in Kiev. Both he and Gayatri had panicked when the situation became out of hand because the then government had delayed in evacuating its people including students well before the war broke out whilst American and European countries could evacuate their citizens well before the first tanks rolled into Ukraine.

Vanmali had stayed together with her friends from India, of which there were more than 200 of them from India itself in the same University. Upon repeatedly calling up the Indian embassy in Ukraine and receiving no response, these kids started walking with their bags in tow. They hitched hikes part of the way, paying exorbitant sum of monies to a bus driver who dropped them about 80 kms from the border, from where they then walked in sub zero temperatures all the while carrying their luggage and at the same with little food and water on hand and also with the ever present danger of bombs falling on them.

Finally, Vanmali and her friends reached the Moldovan border and from there they took a train to reach the Chisinau International airport and board a plane for New Delhi. All this while Raghav and Gayatri were anxious like hell, communicating sparsely with Vanmali or her friends depending upon the mobile network and its battery strength. It was a traumatic experience for both of them, during which time, they aged more than a few years.  

Raghav was at that time working in advertising, holding a Vice President position with Lintas and leading a hectic work life with multiple deadlines, late nights, bad eating habits etc. Vanmali was their only daughter who had tried for a medical school admission in India, but not getting that, opted to study medicine in Ukraine.

Who would have thought that students studying for medicine would have to undergo a scary life surviving experience in a war zone. Musing on that, Raghav thought, what’s with all these dictators who want a grab a piece of land here and there and everywhere. How different are the present day Russian and Chinese leaders from the colonial powers England, France, Spain, Belgium, Dutch, Portugal, Germany of the 16^th to 19^th century, who went on to conquer and colonise so many countries in Asia, Africa and South America, plundering their riches and exploiting their natural resources to a large extent.

He remembered clearly the Russian invasion of Ukraine because nobody wanted it – not the Russian citizens, nor its soldiers or bureaucrats. It was only one man and his ego who wanted a war with another country, killing innocent people and destroying property and houses worth millions. 

Since that disastrous Ukrainian invasion, Russia had gone onto conquer other countries who were originally part of the Soviet Union, Belarus in 2024, Kazakhstan in 2027, Uzbekistan in 2029 and Tajikistan in 2031. Now in 2032, they had gone into Moldova, through which Vanmali had luckily escaped through the skin of her teeth.

Vanmali had, thankfully, completed her medical studies in Poland and took up a job as an intern in Toronto Genral Hospital in 2024 and then two years later got a job as a specialist in Pediatrics in Vancouver Community Hospital. She had subsequently married and settled down in Vancouver itself.

Raghav had burnt himself out due to work pressure from unending deadlines and intimidating bosses. Luckily for him, he used to come once a year to Auroville in Pondicherry to run a half marathon there in the beautiful forested sylvan surroundings which captivated and enraptured him so much that both he and Gayatri decided to move out of Mumbai for good and settle down in Pondicherry permanently.

They had sold of their Mumbai apartment and bought a piece of land in Pondicherry where they constructed a beautiful house overlooking the Indian ocean. Raghav got himself busy with the workings of the Auroville ashram where he is now looking after their public relations section and fund raising part with much less pressure than of the olden times in the corporate world. Gayatri keeps herself busy with the skill development work in the Auroville campus where the ashramites have taken upon themselves to upskill young tribal women in various skills and occupations which will enable them to build their confidence and at the same time earn some well earned money for themselves.

Raghav and Gayatri’s life was complete now in the Auroville center. He had a one hour meditation session in the morning at the Matri Mandir and another one hour session in the evening hours. In between he takes care of the Ashram work. Since Auroville is only 6 kms away from Pondy, they drive to and way on their bike. They are leading a peaceful existence there.

As Raghav was getting ready to leave for the Ashram, he got another ping on his mobile. He chanced upon it to see another update on the war situation. He pushed it aside, wondering what’s with all these dictators – the whole world wants peace of mind, whereas they only want a piece of another country’s land.

Moonwake

I was sitting in my verandah sipping my evening cup of tea, when the phone rang. I detest mobile phones ringing especially when I am having my favorite cup of tea. I generally allow it to exhaust its ring and call back only if it’s a known number.

When I checked the number after I had finished my tea, I found it was from my dear friend Ravi Kishore from my banking days. I had not heard from him for a long time. He and I both worked briefly in a bank, before he moved out on a transfer to Secunderabad and I left the bank altogether. He later retired and was working as a consultant for a couple of banks. His full name was T.V.S.S. Ravi Kishore, but I never got around to asking him to spell his full name.

Anyways, the reason for his desperate call, as I fathomed from the conversation, is that he wanted me to teach his son, dancing. I used to be a dance teacher in olden days, teaching kids of all ages, dancing anything from ballroom dancing to salsa to foxtrot to even Bollywood style dancing. The Bollywood style of dancing was to be my bete noire, because I felt it revolted against all cannons of classical dancing.

Coming back to the subject of Ravi Kishore Garu’s son, Babu. His full name is T.V.S.R Kumar one of the S of the father’s initials getting dropped off for the R coming in. I guess that’s how it works. This kid is an energetic kid doing his MCA (i.e. Master of Computer Applications, for novices!! ) from Guntur University. His ultimate aim is to go abroad to USA like all kids from Andhra Pradesh. He has also made his traditional trip to the revered Visa temple in Hyderabad like all US faithful’s from the state.

Now this kid is also a dance junkie like crazy. Whenever he gets free time from studying coding and algorithms and what not, he is found grooving and dancing and thumping to the beats of Tamil, Telugu, Hindi, and Punjabi songs. Lately he has discovered breakdance by viewing some YouTube videos. He tried to do some break dance, but broke his bones more than master the dance beats.

Then by constantly scrolling through Instagram as was his wont, he chanced upon M.J. or Michael Jackson and his energetic dances. That’s sort of fixated him the last few weeks and his dad found him constantly bleating “Beat It, Beat It” whilst the father was desperately trying to beat the depression blues with his post retirement salary.

Out of desperation, Ravi garu called me up and asked me whether I can drill some sense into this kid, to teach him some classical dances rather than him keep on saying “I am Bad, I am Bad”, whenever he goes near him.

I said fine, let him come to me one of these days.

Babu aka T.V.S.R. Kumar came to me yesterday evening, again while I was having my cup of evening tea. Before coming Babu had inquired with a few people about me, although I am not on Wikipedia. He has somehow come to know, perhaps from his dad, that I used to be a dance artiste with the Bappi Lahiri troupe way back in the early 80s.

That’s right, I did indeed perform as a group artiste in the dance gang that sang “I am a Disco Dancer” and “Jimmy Jimmy Aaja Aaja”. It was indeed great fun those days as Bappi was inventive with his disco music and Mithun Chakravarthy with his dance moves.

Anyway, the kid got talking this and that for a long time until he asked me

“Uncle can you teach me moonwalk?”

For a moment, I was stunned, like how did he know my secret. Moonwalk is a dance move made famous by Michael Jackson. It became a kind of a cult dance. Basically, the dancer is sliding backward through deft use of his legs, but it feels as if the dancer is going forward. I learned it during my visit to Santa Monica, California in 1988 but have not been teaching it regularly as I don’t think I knew it perfectly.

The kid was very desperate for me to teach him moonwalk, because I guessed it right, he was dating a girl and wanted to show off to her.

Sighing, I put my glasses down and told him

“Okay, Babu I will teach you moonwalk from tomorrow, but don’t let too many people that I taught you the move.”

He jumped up in joy and said “Fine, Uncle,yesss”

I gently asked him,“Who’s the lucky one”

He was startled and stuttered “Who, who, who?’

I said to him “Don’t lie to me, you want to learn moonwalk because you love a girl, right and you want to preen yourself to the lucky one, right?”

Head bowed, shyly he said “Uncle how did you guess?”

I said “The old man knows it all. Does your lady love live in this city?”

Babu “Yes, Uncle she is here, which is one of the reasons for my coming here. I am meeting her tonight for dinner”

I said, “Tonight is going to be a lovely night, It’s a full moon night, why don’t you take your girl to the beach for witnessing a moonwake”.

Babu “What’s that Uncle, I don’t know what that is.”

I said “Babu, Moonwake is what will awaken your amoral instincts. It is when you can espy the shimmering lights of moon on the water. Its beautiful, its breathtaking, its romantic.”

“You go for a moonwake tonight and from tomorrow we learn moonwalk.”

Babu was delirious with joy.

Speed

It was late evening when I reached the house of my good friend Srinivasa Krishna who works as a General Manager in a coffee estate in Chikmagalur.

We were meeting after 15 years, me coming from US after a long air trip from San Diego through a halt at Frankfurt. Exhausted as I was, meeting Srini and his family was the first thing on my agenda, before going to meet my parents in Coimbatore.

Srini was my school mate at St. Joseph’s High School, Chikmagalur, he preferring to stay back in India, me going for further pursuits abroad as a computer engineer. He is now well settled with his family comprising of wife and two kids, both of them studying to be engineers.

Dinner done with his family, we got around to talking various things over a cup of the locally brewed coffee. Reminisces flowed throughout our conversation. We got around to our favorite conversation, which was cricket.

Srini was a budding cricketer in his school days and he represented St. Joseph’s at the school tournaments at the district level. He was a tearaway fast bowler and that was the only thing he liked – to bowl fast and he used to bowl long spells under the hot scorching sun. His favorite cricketer was Jeff Thomson while mine was Denniss Lillee.

We got around to discussing cricket of the olden days when fast bowlers ruled with their incredible skills of bowling upwards of 150 kph. The West Indies domination came up with the mention of the likes of super speedsters Michael Holding, Andy Roberts, Malcolm Marshall, Joel Garner and Colin Croft.

Srini also mentioned the names of Richard Hadlee, Imran Khan, Kapil Dev, Allan Donald, Chaminda Vaas, all of whom were responsible for a factory line up of fast bowlers in their respective countries.

I asked him, “Do you remember B.S. Chandrashekar aka Chandra, the magical leg spinner, he was almost like a medium pace bowler.”

He said “Yes, Chandra was mesmerizing in his hey days, those were golden days of cricket, the famous spin quartet of India of the 70s. But now it is all fast bowling, the recent past team captain Virat Kohli believed only in fast bowling to get the results.”

Time passed by without both of us realizing it.

I asked him “Srini, do you still play cricket?”

He said “Yes, but now its more of a social time out on Sundays and holidays and now my speed has come down considerably.”

I said “Speed is relative, Srini, what matters is your skill.”

“Yes”, he said “Nowadays I teach young bowlers the art of fast bowling alongwith teaching them the importance of line and length and nuances of swing bowling, cutters, slow balls, bouncers and the occasional beamers” he said smiling.

Srini had to abandon his cricketing pursuits due to family obligations. Now he is a much mellowed person from his fast bowling days, what with familial responsibilities weighing heavily on his shoulders. Yet talk of cricket of the olden times, spruced up the old man.

We said our goodnights and early next morning, I left Srini and his memories and dreams with a heavy heart and rounded off to the highway to the first signboard I see which said “Speed thrills, Speed kills”.

Adore

Pencil in hand, another one tucked above my ear, I had a serious look about me. My hands were poised on a note book on which I was writing something or ostensibly supposed to be writing something.

Achutan, my trusted friend, dropped by, a quizzical look on his face. I have known Achutan for many years, he is a Malayalam movie buff. I offered him a chaia he refused asking me what bothers you.

I said Achu, I have to write about Adore for my weekly writing contest. Achutan’s eyes sparked immediately. He said “Adoor?” I know all about him.

I woke up from the reverie, admonishing him, Achu, it is adore not Adoor Gopalakrishnan. He said what is the problem, you write about Adoor Gopalakrishnan whom you also adore a lot as much as I do.

Indeed, you are right, Achutan, Adoor Gopalakrishnan is indeed adorable with his body of work. Who cannot not like him especially true connoisseurs of movies like you and me.

I said you remember the movie Vidheyan made in 1994 starring Mammootty, Tanvi Azmi etc. That brilliant movie was about the closest one can come to slavery in Indian cinema. Achutan said yes, Mammootty with his powerful acting was absolutely mesmerizing in his role as the landlord who strikes terror in the hearts of peasants in the village. He should have won the Oscars for his performance, Achutan further said, to which I concurred.

Achutan then said, you remember Kodiyettam, another movie directed by Adoor with Bharath Gopi in the main role. I said Bharath Gopi did a magnificent role in that movie as a grown up no gooder for his family. Adoor has bounced Gopi against three women, two of whom reject him, for him to then realise his duties & responsibilities. It is another one of Adoor masterpiece.

Like that we discussed one movie after another of the maestro until it was evening time and the sun was about to set. Achutan said Sir, I will have the chaia now and had his tea and departed. Before departing he said “Sir now you will agree that we both adore Adoor Gopalakrishnan”

Dust

Dost Dost na raha, pyar pyar na raha – I started humming this Mukesh melody of yesteryears. Munuswamy shook me and said “Saar, it is not Dost, it is Dust, the Friday word is Dust for today, wake up Saar”

I woke up in a trance, still reeling from the Mukesh emotions.

Munuswamy implored with me “Saar think of something, we should Dust this award this time Saar. The only thing that comes to my mind is when my beautiful Gayatri asks me to dust the entire house and I do it dutifully, otherwise I will not get to eat my favorite Sambhar Rice for the day.”

Munuswamy was virtually begging me to dust off my Mukeshian world and come to the present.

Okay, Munu, first let me freshen my face and dust it with a towel, I mean clean with a neat towel and then perhaps I can think of something.

What is dust, dhool, poussiere, staub I pontificate. Saar it is called as Tuci in Tamil, Munuswamy says. It is what we find everywhere in the house and we husbands have to deal with it everyday and more so since the covid pandemic arose, we have become experts in dealing with it.

Munuswamy has a point I think but I also reflect to those days when marathon running events were taking place regularly and every runner used to declare on the facebook “Done and Dusted this event or that event.” I used to frequently wonder, whether they actually dusted that place after finishing the marathon or they dusted the entire route. In that case we should hold more marathons so that our roads become clean without bothering the Municipal workers.

Munuswamy poked me and said “No Sir, it is a figure of speech, it means they conquered the course or beat the hell out of that tough route. What Saar!!”

I ask him “Munu, does dust bother you?”

Munuswamy says “What saar, everyday I have to dust the entire house from top to bottom and hidden corners as well for cockroaches and bugs. My back pains while doing it but what to do, Sir. But I have to do it otherwise in the evening while having my tiffin with filter coffee, mosquitoes come and disturb me and i feel they come because of the dust in the house, Sir, they also come while I am watching my favorite Tamil serial in the late evening hours.”

But Munuswamy, I say don’t you think we human beings are also dust in a way. How Saar, says a perplexed Munuswamy. He becomes agitated and stands up in a threatening posture. I make him sit down and ask him “What are we in this world”

“Saar I am a contractor with an engineering workshop in Dindigul and my wife Gayatri is a BA first class from Erode College of Commerce.” I gently press his shoulder and say “And i am an accountant in Salem. That means we are all human beings in this planet called earth, is it not.”

“Yes Saar, you are right Sir, we are all human beings co-existing with animals, plants & other living organisms” Munuswamy had a glean in his eye whilst recalling his early science studies.

And what is earth I ask Munuswamy.

Munuswamy’s eyes flutter while trying to decipher this question. Sir, I don’t understand Sir,

Munu, is earth not just one planet in the entire vast galaxy, comprising of various planets, stars, asteroids, meteorites, interstellar gas, dark matter etc. So what is earth? I ask him, are we not a speck of Dust in this entire galaxy.

Munuswamy’s eyes are wide while he is trying to process this information and when it dawns on him, he comes to me and says “Saar let me give you a Jhadu ka Jappi Sir”.

Street hawker

An old and despondent looking man trying to sell some calendars by placing his wares on a temporary shelf on the road. We should buy maximum from such persons instead of buying from online stores.

Many a times i see some hawkers have only a few items to sell on their mat. I wonder how much he would be able to sell and would that feed his family and provide his kids something to eat and clothes to wear.

Life is tough for people on the fringes, for its brutal out there, what with online e-commerce stores trying to outsell everybody, even the kirana stores, the local mom and pop stores, the street side vegetable and fruit vendors and street hawkers. Then they have to also contend with the authorities swooping down on them occasionally and confiscating their goods.

Its a tough brutal life for the street vendors.

Morning

It was early morning 3.00 a.m. when the alarm rings and time for me to wake up and get ready for our annual Mumbai marathon, the annual pilgrimage for all marathon lovers of India and abroad.

The morning routines are all set – drink plenty of water, don the running clothes, shoes, make some eats for the long run, preferably oats, pin the bibs to the tee shirt, ensure you carry some spare money for the train journey and beer at the end of the race. The most scary part of the morning routine is getting out of the house and being accosted by a pack of hungry stray dogs. That’s it, if I am able to go past through those angry dogs, then I can comfortably cross the marathon finish line, come what may, no fear.

Taking the train involves first an auto rickshaw ride with the cold winds hitting against your chest and face. The first train to Churchgate and it is packed with runners galore. Other passengers are gawking at us, wondering from where these creatures have emerged on this day.

A huge contingent of runners get down in Lower Parel to take the trip to the half marathon whereas many of us go all the way to Churchgate station for the walk to the Azad maidan starting point. By the time we reach Churchgate station, our bladders are about to burst so it’s a quick trip to the toilet and then the long walk via New Marine Lines Road, Khau Galli, by passing the Fashion Street, and onto the Azad maidan.

Here you will invariably find a huge queue with nervously excited runners desperate to enter the main arena as quickly as possible and then don the running gear and do some warm ups. In between you exchange hi fives and greetings with fellow runners, crack some jokes and join the multitude of runners at the starting point.

The full marathon starts at 5.40 a.m. so it’s again a long walk to the starting point, the hooter goes off with the A slot runners first going through followed by B slot runners and then if you are in the C or D slot you enter the starting line a cool 10 minutes later.

At the starting line, it’s all a culmination of nervous energy, excitement, adrenalin coursing through your veins as you cross the mat to start your marathon journey. You know that once you cross that start line, then there is nothing to deter you from crossing the finish line, whatever time it takes.

Some mornings are precious.

Dead End

Yesterday night Hari had a dream. It was more like a dead-end dream. Going from one place to another with no result. Hari was like in a bus depot which ferries passengers from one place to another, but he could not see any other passengers. He was looking for a particular bus, but he had no idea which bus and which place that bus goes to. There were stairs that he climbed in, he did not know that bus depot had stairs in them, but this one did. But everywhere he went,, there was a dead end, it was like a forbidden territory, like a huge chasm, which he could not possibly hope to jump and go across. What are these places, why do these dreams occur and what is the meaning of these dreams? Are these dreams part of our thought process reflected through the sub conscious. What is the meaning of the dead ends, does it mean that Hari has no future, or does it reflect his fears, his insecurities, his inner worries.