Hubli Passenger goes to tango with Pedong Express

A visit to the hills in the north east has been our family dream for many years so when Roshni Rai of Bangalore Ultra 75K fame and henceforth referred as the Pedong Express called for support for her 65K run more than two months back, I had my entire family’s support for my volunteering to run the entire distance with her. Between then and the actual run-date, the clash of dates of my daughter’s return from college meant I was to Ekla Chalo to keep pace with the Pedong Express.

I saw an opportunity in this, why could I not use the trip to test out Montek Singh’s Poverty line of Rs. 35/- per person per day (or has it been reduced to Rs. 28/-, this is the only price which comes down in this Aam Aadmi’s Raaj!). I started collecting dry ration recipes from different regions both for economy and for independence from Railway catering on board and in stations. After a little bit of research supported by my wife through her network of friends I settled for the dry ration of;

 1. Jola Roti (dried Jowar rotis shelf life 6 months)

 2. Avalakki (Pounded rice or Poha)

 3. Sattu ka Atta (2-minute Maggi variety made of powdered roasted Bengal grams)

 4. Home made cakes (qualifies neither on economy nor shelf life but wife’s item, Priceless!)

 5. Groundnuts (raw ones roasted in Microwave and unsalted)

 6. Jaggery (shavings for easy miscibility)

 7. Salt

8. Onions

I will come to why I am not pricing them sometime later during the course of this narrative.

Since my family was not accompanying me, the preparations were on low key as I like to postpone things till the very end. I now have a noble intention in this also, Biscuit’s (oh yeah, he is my four year old Labrador to the uninitiated) happiness. Biscuit gets worked up as soon as packing starts. I kept up with my daily quota of 30K run and the question was should I postpone the Sunday 42.2K to Saturday. To make myself more aerodynamic, I decided to get a very close haircut (Economy too, Gandhi cut is the cheapest). My barber is called Srinivas, I consider hair cut there as the ceremonial tonsure to Lord Venkateswara (Srinivasa is one of the many names of the Lord). I also visited the Vittala temple on Friday the 27^th April evening. On the Saturday morning run looking to the work of packing and Bank left, I decided to curtail my run to 30K, I also took some time praying at the Masjid enroute. Finally, at 11:15AM I picked my bags with my running gear (Khadi top and the regular sports shorts), Charkha, food stuff and lots of books to keep me company on the train. The real joy of barefoot is no shoes to lug and that gives so much space in the bag and so much peace of mind. I said my farewell to Biscuit with a heavy heart, he would be okay this time as my daughter will come on 1^st May and my wife would be there all along. I felt a little sorry for leaving my wife to take care of Biscuit without Mathew (our man Friday who adores Biscuit).

True to my Gandhian form I was traveling Sleeper class. My long journey from Hubli to New Jalpaiguri (NJP, the nearest railhead to the race start) was to take me from April 28^th Noon to Monday the April 30^th night at 9:30 PM if all went well. The first train was to take me to Vijayawada at 3 AM in the morning next day. The company on the train took long in opening up and then there was language issue with bulk of the crowd chattering away in Telugu (destination Vijayawada) and Kannada. The children on the opposite berth got friendly. A middle aged man sitting opposite to me after having impressed people in the bay with his knowledge of politics decided to turn his attention to me. I was getting whatever I could despite the language barrier amidst my attempt at cracking the 4 star Sudoku of HINDU. He asked my native place and being told Tamilnadu, wanted to know why I am going in the reverse direction. I told him I am off to NJP, he shook his head. When the purpose of running 65K with my runner friend was disclosed, he shook his head resignedly and surely thought me to be loose in my top-storey. He looked at his cohorts and seemed to say ‘what the world is coming to’. At the next stop the coach was overtaken by a large number of passengers who settled wherever they could find space. No one was complaining. The TTE came checked the tickets of newcomers and finding that they all had a waitlisted ticket, he walked away. Probably, a realization has come that capacity issue has to be solved this way only! One old lady and a young girl came cleaning the floor of the coach and got a few coins for their labour. The party was complete with a few trans-genders muscling the way and demanding a price for parading the abnormal with impunity. I was spared the embarrassment. I lunched on the cakes and Banana going by their short shelf life. The familiar stop of Hospet (where we alight for visiting the ruins of Hampi) crossed. The weather got better as the evening progressed. I made a few calls to my wife and assured her that I was well fed and was among friends. I was stingy with calls not for the bill but the precious battery time. I had an early dinner of crushed Jola roti, Avalakki and jaggery mixed with water. It was quite tasty and filling. I was feeling proud of my choice of provision. I took the upper berth and unchallenged for some time I slept early in preparation for 3 AM rise.

The train reached Vijayawada on time. Found the rest house easily. The challenge was to locate the caretaker from among the jumble of 5-6 men sleeping in the verandah of the rest house. I got lucky the second time and the first man didn’t complain too much. I set the hot water going for green tea and put my clothes to wash (if you want to travel light, you need to wash clothes regularly!). Had a nice cold water bath and sat down to a spinning session with green tea. I knew my wife would be up early for receiving guests who were coming for AIEEE exams that day. I talked to her on railway phone. I finished the banana and not wanting to wet my running gear, I decided against a run and settled for a short power nap. I woke up to the alarm at 7AM and after a hurried breakfast of Jola roti started for the Amravati temple visit after hanging out the washed clothes to dry. I had till 1PM (my train to NJP was to leave at 1:20 PM) to visit the local Kanakadurga temple and the Amravati temple. I decided to first crack the distant temple. I took a bus to the Central Bus stand for catching a bus to Amravati. The Jawahar Lal Nehru bus stand was bustling with activity and the language barrier both spoken and written put me in a spot. All signs were in local language. I managed to find out the platform after some dumb charades at the Enquiry counter. Chauvinism for mother tongue is understandable but, at least for places of tourist importance, multi-lingual signs should be placed. I waited for the bus from 7:45 AM to 8:30 AM. The board in Telugu (which my neighbour interpreted for me) showed a bus due every half hour. I filled up my kamandalam (empty Gatorade bottle from SCMM-2012 which is now my water bottle) from a nearby water cooler. The water point was well maintained and patronized by all classes of passengers. Not much of empty PET bottles litter in the area! The bus arrived at 8:45 AM and I got a window seat. The conductor gave me a Rs. 30/- ticket. The bus went through narrow lanes and the driver could put Schumacher to shame. Gradually we crossed the city and lush fields replaced the crowded houses on either side of the road. The weather was very muggy and it was begging to rain. Interestingly, the crops on either side were chilli (surely a hotter one compared to his cousin from Bydagi near my place) and cotton (much taller plant than the Bt cotton near Hubli). Surely a case of two lands of cotton and chilli separated at birth. In addition I for the first time saw drumsticks being grown in a farm. I used to think they grow a tree at random. It would be interesting to find out the Hb% of the residents of these parts (drumstick is very rich in Iron). Fruit plantations of Guava and Plantain completed the picture. It was harvest time and ladies and young girls were picking chillis. I also spotted a man stuffing chillis into a jute bag by jumping into it with his bare feet with two people holding the bag. I reached the temple stop at 10:30 AM. I needed to rush back after darshan so as not to miss my train. The main deity is a pillar with Lord Shiva’s face on the pillar (interesting as Shiva temple only have lingas). The four corners have a Shiva linga, I quickly prayed and after three mandatory circumambulations and applying some ash rushed back to collect my slippers deposited at the entrance. The teenager at the counter wanted Rs. 2/-, I offered him a Rs. 5/- note which he refused to take. He also refused a ten rupee note and wanted me to get change. I asked him to keep the Rs. 5/- which also he refused. When he started arguing I walked off. I was a little worried about the divine retribution; you are not supposed to take anything away from a Shiva temple, does this extend to the chappal counter? Immediately on coming out I got an empty bus for Vijayawada. The lady conductor was very chatty with all passengers. The ticket fare was only Rs. 28/-. Was this Lord Shiva’s way of getting me to repay my debt to the arrogant shoe stand guy? I asked the conductor about her next trip to Amravati, she said 4PM after lunch break. I was not confident of explaining to her the job of handing over Rs. 2/- either herself or through some devotee in next trip. Guilty of misappropriation! The weather had become very pleasant and there were light showers also. I reached the main bus stand at 12:15. found out about the other temple (Kanakdurga), it was a little walk from the Bus-stand, did not want to risk missing the train. I took a bus to station Rs. 4 and 10 minutes hence I was walking into Vijayawada station concourse. I debated whether to get Janata Khana for lunch on the way to rest-house or scout for food after winding up from the rest house. I went to the room and quickly packed and after settling accounts with the caretaker I was on the way to the station, time 1 PM. Oh yes, I almost forgot, the rest-house room had a charter of services even laying down the number of times the dustbin would be cleared from the room. It was a good model for out-sourcing work. Only there was no dustbin in the room.

I reached the station PF 1 in a hurry and headed for the IRCTC outlet for my Janatha Khana. Biryani was being loudly purveyed by the staff. I went and asked for my Janatha Khana(JK) (the humble JK was displayed in the same sized font below the mighty Biryanis). I was disregarded, I was made of sterner stuff, I persisted for my JK. He mumbled its not there, I asked for the complaint book. There was no other customer so I didn’t feel guilty about carrying on, the train scheduled at 13:20 was not being announced. I think I will have enough time to solve this JK issue. The person rang up on his mobile, he said he was talking to the Manager. After a few tries he said he is not able to get him. I told him I don’t want the Manager, I want JK or the complaint book. Two three workers held a mid-pitch conference and decided to give me the Complaint book. I did not have a pen, I asked him for one. He looked at me as if I was asking for his kidney (not my joke, borrowed from 3-idiots movie!). He told me to go and get one myself. I went out, still no sign of my train on the CCTV. I saw the ASM at the platform, I introduced myself and asked for his pen, one moment I thought if he would ask for my identification, he relented and taking me at my face value (despite my khadi kurta-payajama) gave me the pen. I returned brandishing it, the Complaint book hanging from the wall was brought down and given to me. To my dismay (and to Munnabhai’s amusement, I am a Hirani fan!) the complaint was to be written in 4 copies, there was no carbon. I persisted and wrote painstakingly all they would want to know about me, my travel particulars to residence address to my grievance. The ASM came searching for his pen and found me writing my thesis for JK. I recorded the complaint and added missing pen, carbon to boot.  With no one to acknowledge the complaint, I took my copy and left. The ASM agreed that they deserved to be complained about and the staff also distanced themselves from the management saying that they were not being given enough JK to sell. I went out and found a fruit seller selling Guavas. I bought 2 jumbo ones for Rs. 10/- This would have to do for lunch. My train was being announced on PF 6, I rushed to the Foot-over Bridge. The Escalator was lying in disuse.  

The train arrived to welcome drizzle. I reached my bay to find a big group having community lunch. I politely asked them if I could join the party, got cold stares. I sat down uninvited and presented my credentials as the occupant of the middle berth. I looked around to find a place to park my humble belongings. My charkha case got suspicious stares (it looks like the case in which Kamalhassan carries the gun to assassinate the Mahatma in the movie ‘Hey Ram’), I did not explain (not yet formally introduced and accepted). I munched on the Guavas and tried to stem the pouring sweat with my handkerchief. The interior of the coach did not have a charger (too much to expect!) and no place to park my kamandalam. Actually the inside of a coach looks like a convicts cell with no accessories to prevent suicide attempt, the barred window completed the picture. The humidity was making the inmates irritable. The train moved, the child with the lady at the window seat gave a welcoming smile. Within half an hour and after negotiating the outskirts of Vijayawada, rain gods delivered unabashedly. The weather was excellent. The lady at the window seat offered that she was cursing not having got the AC accommodation and was now thankful for the improved weather. I could not have agreed more, my Gandhian spirit having almost wilted under the combined assault of fruit diet and the inclement weather. The luncheon party mates were actually a family of husband, wife and a child (they called him Ceemon, I am writing as I heard, more about him later!). The other participants in the orgy were friends and relatives from other compartments. Two of them reached the upper berth and the rest left to digest the heavy ingestion. The other upper berth was occupied by a strong silent army-man. I asked the lady with the child if we could put the middle berth up, she said she was not sleepy. I rephrased my question that I would like to rest if it was okay with her and she concurred. I tried to befriend my co-passengers starting with the kids, I could not dream of traveling till next day night 09:30PM like this. The co-passengers were all going till NJP; the army man was going further to Guwahati. I had an early dinner of Sattu and went to sleep. The youngster wanted his mother to take my middle berth, I offered, but she preferred her lower berth. Woke up to a very early sunrise, the kids were already up and were making a racket. The train stopped at Balasore ( I found from the Hindi translation that this was actually the Britisher’s murder of Baleshwar), I wished somebody agitated to set right this colonial atrocity. The lady at the window seat (she I came to know by overhearing her conversation with other co-passengers was a, Administrative officer with Jawahar Nehru Vidyalaya at some place beyond NJP) was telling the story of the intruder who had occupied the space between the two berths on the floor. She was regretting not having taken up on my offer of the middle berth. She said she had once lost her hand bag to one such intruder in one of her previous journeys. I checked my baggage and found them intact! Then started a stream of Indian breakfast offered by local vendors starting with boiled eggs, Ghugni an you name it and they had it. The Pantry with its cutlets and omelets was a poor second. Shubh, the JNV administrator’s son was surviving on chips and Ceemon (still not got his name!) was having a ball with all eatables on offer starting with biscuits soaked in tea. JNV administrator’s husband was working with a private firm in Hyderabad and she was going back to her school after a brief vacation, the Son was studying at her school. The morning entertainment was completed with a visit from a bunch of trans-genders who fleeced my neighbour (Cemmon’s father). I and the strong silent armyman were spared the blushes. The train next stopped at Kharagpur where I filled up my kamandalam. My co-passengers were giving good business to bottled water sellers. A salesman wearing his Sunday best was selling religious literature. I was tempted and Ceemon beat me to it. He bought two comics and I decided to read it after he finished it. I got it very soon after he had seen the pictures. The comic was very well written and illustrations and quality of paper was worth the ten bucks. I came to know that one Simon helped Jesus carry his cross. I asked Ceemon’s father how he spelt his son’s name, I was told he was Simon. I told the Simon of the train who was beating his father into buying him Singharas (the eastern name for the Samosas) of his lineage. He was not impressed, his parents were. I completed the other comic also. My mobile was out of coverage area and very low on battery, I was afraid if my boss needed any help for his important meeting. The train chugged into Howrah at 12:30 a full one hour late. I got cell coverage and spoke to my boss who had been frantically trying to get me. I spoke to my colleague whose guest I would be on the way back. I spoke to Roshni Rai who was organizing the Group run from Siliguri to Pedong the next day. I spoke to my colleague at NJP and asked him to keep some bananas and milk for my dinner at the rest house and not bother to come and meet me. I found the start point and time and told her that I would meet them at the start point the next day. I had to practice Rugby to get one kamandalam of water from the overcrowded water spout. I gave unsolicited gyan on discipline to fellow combatants after having got my kamandalam filled with the ambrosia. I saw that the escalator was not in use. Howrah station being a terminus, the purpose of the escalator was not clear to me. My knowledge of this part is very limited with this being my trip after almost 23 years. I got 3 guavas for Rs. 10/- here. People brought Fish meals and the couple (the lady was returning after surgery from Hyderabad for Gall stones) on the side berth was polishing off large mounds of rice with relish. Another couple on the side berth in the next bay was feeding a young child fish and rice which it was consuming with relish (the rice particles were so tough to look at I was thinking how fussy we are in feeding our kids, the child had had milk from the tea vendor in his feeding bottle ). We were thankful for the train having left the boiling cauldron called Howrah. Now my co-passengers, Simon’s parents, were on home territory and were projecting the likely arrival time at NJP with the husband of the Gall bladder operatee. The stream of vendors continued, now we were being offered, saris, bedsheets and can you beat it ‘Gold chain’ (who says only Vijaynagar empire days had precious stones transacted on the street). An interesting way of auctioning bedsheets was displayed by one salesman. He after announcing the reserve price, would let passengers bid for the product, if the item did not cross the reserve price, the highest bidder got some small item like a pen or key chain. He was not able to sell much, but, he gave us good entertainment and I found a good candidate for conducting our Railway auctions. The greenery on either side made for good journey and I was enjoying my re-read of Louis Fischer’s book on Gandhi. The train reached NJP a full 2 hours late at 11:30 PM. I had offered the co-passengers to come and stay in my rest-house for the night if they could not find anything decent at that time of the night. I lost them in the crowd after I got down. The station was very big and a huge tract of land is there between the PF 1 where our train came and where the rest-house was located. I lugged my luggage and reached the rest house. There was no milk and no banana. I put my mobile to the charging point which came to life after receiving life saving fluids for about half an hour. The number of missed calls and messages were staggering. I had to prioritise, I woke up Roshni and confirmed arrival and that I would meet her at the start point (Coronation Bridge or Bagh pool as they called it) at 5 AM the next day. The railway phone was not able to access my home, I spoke to my daughter (she was on train returning home after exams and she had had a bad last paper) and wife and told them of my safe arrival. My brother’s (my runner Doctor brother from Chandigarh) calls would have to wait; you just can’t wake up a Doctor at midnight without sufficient provocation! I set the hot water for green tea and hot water in the bath room going. I washed the clothes and had a long bath. I could not get sleep till 2AM, interestingly, the History channel was showing a program on trans-genders. I found it educative. I would see the trans-genders on the way back differently. I set the alarm for 03:30AM and went to catch some rest.

I woke up groggily at 0330AM and spun more out of habit then anything else. I had a hurried meal of Jola roti and had I hydrated with green tea. I packed change of clothes in my SCMM bag and was out of the rest house at 4 AM. I saw a young boy and told him to lock the door. I waited for 15 minutes for the vehicle to come. Roshni called me that they were ready at the atrt point and when I told her I was yet to start, she offered to come and pick me up. I declined the offer and panicked when I came to know the distance to the start point was about 30KM. I kept trying my colleague’s number, there was no response. I was at my wit’s end and did not know what to do. I went to the auto stand, the demand was Rs. 500/-. I again rung my colleague and a sleepy lady picked up, even at the risk of facing her Kolaveri, I requested her to wake up my colleague. She told me she was his wife and that he sleeps after taking medicines for sleep and could not be woken up (Modern day Kumbhakaran, I told her my state was like Ravana’s and he should be woken up). He then set things moving and promised me the vehicle soon. A Gypsy came to the rest-house at 04:40 AM. In our effusive welcome, the driver switched off the engine. It refused to start after I got in, the driver and an attendant (A fellow Tamilian from Madurai who had no respect for the locals sense of punctuality) tried all their tricks to coax the vehicle to start. Mr Pandey, a TIA(Travelling Inspector of Accounts) who was to help me was standing wringing his hands. I asked him to join me in trying to push start the vehicle. It was a good warm-up for me but, the vehicle refused to start. I asked the TIA if he could manage some 2-wheeler. He went to pick some lock from vehicles of his colleagues who park at the station before going off to out-station duty. The driver’s attendant rang up the garage (presumably the vehicle had just been to the garage for receiving the FA&CAO) for a substitute vehicle. The driver was offered a Pulsar. I asked him to go and get it. Pandey returned on a bike only to tell me that it was low on Petrol and the bunks do not open before 6 in this part of the world. The driver meanwhile after negotiating the railway gate reached at 04:45 with a Pulsar. Meanwhile Roshni was panicking. I asked her and Srinivas to start and that I would join them enroute, she promised to ask her cousin Samir to wait at the start point for me. Pandey then rode like Schumacher and got me to the start point at 05:20, I thanked him profusely and promised to call him on my return. I got on Samir’s vehicle and reached Roshni and Srinivasan Ramanujam (Srini for short henceforth) at KM 4. In my excitement I was to have a cold start and more seriously with lack of oxygen. I could not have had a worse start and it was to be a hill run (Roshni had told me we start at 400 ft above MSL and reach 6000ft above MSL at its highest point). To top it all I had taken on to run barefoot, God save the Mahatma’s follower!

I set off (time was 05:30by Srinis watch) after getting introduced to Srini and after wishing Roshni well. My mind was on how to make up for the 4K lost. Roshni told me I could go further 2K after reaching the finish point and come back. I had other plans, I never was one to carry arrears to the last semester. After about 500 meters finding me a little faster, Roshni asked me to go ahead and that Srini would give her company. I selfishly took off more to try and make up for the lost 4K. The road was kind on my sole and scenery was breathtaking. I was concerning myself with where my foot was landing and was not able to do justice to the scenery. Kripasagar and Manoj Haveri ( a place near Hubli, should find out from him) were to start from Teesta river and run the marathon distance to Roshni’s house in Pedong. The Sun was already more than 30 minutes old and was looking to renew our old Hubli rivalry. I got out my handkerchief and tied it around my neck to protect it from sun burns. The Samir’s car, ambulance kept coming to me one after the other offering refreshments. I told them I would take my break after 90 minutes of run. I hadn’t broken a sweat, thanks to the cool breeze. Actually, I was waiting for tea-leaves to finish in my mouth before taking any solids. My kamandalam was 3 quarters full. A young runner Puran Rai (hope I remember his name correctly) joined me and my spirit lifted. He was a 3^rd year History student and he told me that he ran the SCMM HM alongwith the team of Gorkha runners in 2 hour 15 minutes. He was keeping a steady banter and pace and we ate up kilometers at a fair clip, the road was kind on my sole. We broke for banana break at Teesta river bridge (13K I think!). I asked Samir is the Police patrol vehicle could turn around and let me get back 2K to make up for my lost 4K. He consulted the Patrol vehicle and told me it would create a traffic problem. I took a few snaps, had a banana, fruit juice laced bottle of water and filled up my kamandalam. Puran got into the support vehicle to follow me. After a few more Kilometers and aborted attempts by my wife and bother to contact me on my mobile, I put in a few more kilometers, I crossed a few patches of bad roads with lot of pebbles. I had to walk most of it. The police patrol asked me if I could wait for Roshni and Srini to come so that we can all go together. I asked Samir to escort me 2K back so that I can make up the backlog and catch up with them. Puran joined me, we could not have picked a worse point for doing the extra 4K. The slope was very steep and a lot of pebbly patches. We crossed Roshni and Srini half a kilometer away from my 2K mark. I still had to make up 1K to catch them on the way back. Roshni was hobbling in pain, I told her a few stretching exercises and lumbered on. It took a lot of effort to climb back and catch up with Roshni and Srini. Roshni asked me if I had tried the mountain cucumber. I told her they looked very inviting. We had liberally salt laced cucumber. I only prayed I could hold the solids. The vendor also gave a liberal helping of salt to my kamandalam. I told Roshni that we believe that you have to work in the house of the person to repay the debt of salt. I asked the man to keep some dirty dishes to wash on my way back.

I was now feeling good having wiped out the 4K deficit and was happy to run in a group again. I and Roshni ran together and Srini and Puran took the pole position behind the lead police car. There were a lot of curious people who crossed us in their vehicles who commented on my bare feet and asked if we were running a marathon. The crowd was very knowledgeable and cheered us lustily. The vehicle drivers were patient in letting us to occupy one half of the narrow mountain road. Srini fell back and I pushed ahead, I could run at a lower pace, I had to run at my natural speed. The road got worse, reminding me of the first 3K of the stretch on my NH-218. Puran chivalrously tried kicking pebbles out my way with his shoes, I was touched. Worse still, I was informed by Puran that the stretch from here to Kalimpongh (KM 43) was a steady climba dn even 15K thereafter (till 6K from finish) was a steady climb. I seriously worried if I had overdone in the beginning. The climb was not bad even if I had to walk some of the pebbly stretch, but, the pebbles were doing serious damage to my soles. I remember commenting to Roshni if this was their way of welcoming guests and if it was ‘Chinese touture’. Roshni told me it was Gorkha torture and their way of baptism by pebbles. My khadi top and bare feet continued to get curious and alternately appreciative stares from the spectators. The police inspector in the lead vehicle, himself a running enthusiast, was very supportive and he actually set the cheer squad going all along the route. Two riders of the support group used to get down from their mount at every kilometer and gave me a standing ovation. The support and police were fantastic and made the run enjoyable. It reminded me of the Mumbai policemen and crowd minus the commercial trappings. I stopped at the roadside and used the tube of running water to cool my CPU with a cold water bath. I was feeling like the elite runners with the police patrol leading the way for me, if only it had a clock in LED! I was regularly plied with juice laced water and bananas. I told the police vehicle that we could stop 2K before Kalimpongh and wait for Roshni and Srini so that we could enter the town as a group. We were told Kripa and Manoj had gone ahead already. My soles were feeling the heat of the sun and I was concerned about how I would be able to do the balance run. I asked the sister in the ambulance if she could truss my feet in crepe bandage so as to give protection to my soles (The nurse was a missionary and I rmember having told Srini that my Soul was fine I was only getting balm for my soles!). Srini’s engineering mind was not impressed of the efficacy of my own Gandhian Vibram. His curse or God not wanting me to cheat on bare foot running; one of the bandages came off. The clip on the other foot was also hobbling my back of the heels. I took off the bandages and gave it back, thankfully, the Sun god took leave of us and the weather got pleasant. Mala and other volunteers were very supportive and cheering of this old man’s effort.

We entered to a hero’s welcome in Kalimpongh. Roshni addressed an impromptu press conference. The residents put scarves around our neck to greet us (Its called Khadda locally). I found it warm around my neck (the weather had turned real cold with chill winds and a light drizzle. We completed the next 1K in a breeze intoxicated with the crowd support. Roshni was a local heroine, people were cheering from roof tops and we felt like celebrities and basked in reflected glory.

I again broke off and put in some gap with Roshni and Srini. Three young kids cheered me and wanted me to stop to talk to them. I asked them to join me and that we could talk while running. I had a pleasant company for next few 100 meters, they promised to find me on face book and I took a snap of theirs before bidding them adieu! The other noteworthy cheering squad was an old couple whose snap I took much to their astonishment. Finally I reached the crest, thankful for the downhill. If I was starting to celebrate, I did not know what was coming!

The quality of the road seriously deteriorated and the slope was very steep. Down hill you needed to pant your foot firmly and with pebbles it was extremely painful. I was seriously contemplating taking my slippers from Samir’s car to protect my soles. Even walking was painful. I may have to walk to balance most part of 6K. I resisted the urge and with Puran’s support and volunteers and Police inspector’s continuous cheering, completed the down hill stretch to Pedong with more walk than run. I started looking back to find if Srini and Roshni in their shodden feet would come cruising downhill. Inside Pedong town, Kripa ( we were to be introduced later) waved from a car, Manoj joined me for the last 1K. I somehow did not want to finish the run walking. I dug deep into my reserves and ran the last 1K with manoj to lusty cheers from the crowd. Roshni’s mother welcomed us with a wide smile and a silk khadda. We went into the reception area, I had taken 10 hours and 2 minutes after adjusting for the 28 minute late start. I had taken almost one and half hour for the downhill stretch. Uphill and down hill are relative and are not absolute terms. As in runs so in life we should seek level playing field, neither uphill nor down hill. I started shivering uncontrollably. I waited and greeted Srini and then Roshni chugged into her mother’s waiting arms. I asked her mother to garland her with the khadi garland I had brought for her (actually I decided on the spot to take one of from what was meant for Gandhi at South Africa). The expression and photo thereof is priceless.

After a nice hot water bath we attacked the food with gusto. The simple meal of Rice, Dal and vegetable was like ambrosia and we had ample proportions. The entire extended family of Roshni and her friends helped feed the ravenous runners. Shri A K Rai (Sir, as Roshni calls him) held impromptu video interviews of all of us. I was really feeling a celebrity. Roshni’s mother started calling me Gandhiji, I was honoured!. A touching felicitation and thanksgiving celebration was held where her friends spoke. I could not follow the language but the tone was entirely worshipful. Roshni’s cute niece was the darling of the crowd. All the runners were given momento. It was already 5 PM, I had no chance of reaching my rest-house in the rain. I may have to avail Roshni’s offer of stay in her guest-house despite the steep bill it would entail ( Ars. 1000/- per night) for the Gandhian. Kripa, Srini, Manoj decided that we should contribute for the run, I concurred. The organizers told us that we could make up the shortfall, Rs, 12,500/- (that would put me poorer by Rs. 2,500/-). Now you know why I did not price my dry rations at the beginning of this blog. My experiment to test Montek’s poverty line had died an unceremonious death. After a small nap we were all woken to a hot cup of tea (milk for Gandhi). In the evening we were offered Drogba (hope I got it right!) from a bamboo cup to relax our tired limbs( the native beer). I had to summon all my Gandhian resolve to stay away. The bull session among runners and how the others cannot understand the runner’s mind was the highlight of the evening session. There being no electricity, the hurricane lamp added to the romantic environment. The discussion about smoking and how Kripa’s uncle succumbed to the Nicotines charms made me somber. We had an early dinner (Roshni’s mother would have been surprised at our Rakshasa appetite) and went to bed promising to meet at 9 AM for breakfast.

The early sunrise saw that we all got up early the last being 5 AM. After breakfast we all decided to go to the hill cross, the trip was memorable with Srini ably taking the wheel and Ladipma giving us company. We returned and dropped Kripa to the resthouse and continued to go the Kalimpongh for Srini’s purchase and dropping me off for NJP. We visited a chrch and a Budhist Gumpha on the way to Kalimpongh. Srini is an expert driver on hill roads. We got to meet Mr. Ganesh Mani Pradhan one of many Roshni’s uncle’s there. He is a professional plant breeder and he and his wife gave us a warm welcome. His passion (he took my word madness for our passions) for the plant breeding was infectious and his interest in our running was flattering. Wish I had some more time to spend with him. I must take his invitation for a return visit next year. We had a good lunch of Thukpa and Momos at a pure vegetarian restaurant (Mala joined us there from her office) (I must take my wife there next time!). After unsuccessful attempts at buying bamboo cup (I would have used it for my green tea) and a Tibetan prayer bell, I was dropped at the bus stand. I got a front window seat in the Tata Sumo on my return trip and relived my return trip, my soles wincing at particularly pebbly stretches. I met the TIA, Mr. Pandey near Sevak temple (Kali temple, our rendevous) after the coronation bridge. I visited the Kali temple and after finding the Budhist Gumpha locked reached the rest house at 8 PM well in time for my train at 09:15PM. I had an interesting conversation with Pandey about how to quit smoking. He has promised to quit smoking and I used the instance of Kripa’s uncle which was fresh in my mind to motivate him. After thanking him profusely for all the help I set him off to go home to his family. I found bananas of the previous night and a hot cup of milk waiting for me. I caught my train comfortably and thus fell the curtains on the GFLR (Group Friendly Long Run Pedong-2012). You will agree 65K, barefoot at 10hours 2 minutes do not do justice to the experience. My return trip saga later!

For one the story was becoming too long and I was well past bedtime, I cut the story yesterday. To do justice to the trip I must reach where I started from. The return journey was as eventful as the onward and I had Biscuit and family waiting for my return eagerly…

The train journey from New Jalpaiguri (NJP) to Sealdah was uneventful. The Bengali gentleman on the opposite berth was not only delaying my going to sleep but was also tempting me while eating a huge dinner. All the while the old lady whose seat he had usurped was keeping me from hitting the sack. A Gujju family was having the run of the coach as if they didn’t want their vacation to end. After the TTE’s visit and lights out it was past 11 PM. I had a dreamless sleep and woke up at 7AM to my alarm. The knowledgeable in the coach informed that the train was late. I reached Sealdah at 7:45 AM a full hour late and my friend and batch mate Pandayji had already called me thrice. He was afraid I would get lost in the station. I did not have much trouble locating his car and having informed my wife of safe arrival, I settled in the back seat to see the land of Maa, Maati and Manush unfold. The tram-tracks made me go back in time, I had last visited this city almost 23 years back as a probationer. The roads looked wider and the footpaths were clear. The city of joy still had some hand rickshaw pullers who were running barefoot. The roads were very smooth and my soles itched for a run. After going through many twists and turns and roads getting narrower, I was in front of a house with a beaming Pandayji at the gate to receive me. He hadn’t changed one bit and gave me a bear hug. His Pomerarian (full name Jewel, 10 year old and Julu to friends) made friends quickly after sniffing me. Biscuit sure has connections! I and Pandayji and Anita Bhabhi compared notes starting from the sumptious lunch we probationers were fed at their house. Then it turned to the state of health and Railway clubs and social life for Railway families staying in own houses. All the while their daughter (she is exactly the age of our service, born on the day we joined at Railway Staff College, Vadodara on 15.02.1988) was sleeping off late night studies. I had a nice long bath and reached the dining table for breakfast. She had laid out a lavish spread and I did justice. She eats late and I am sure she would have had to cook again. The daughter who is studying to be a fashion designer joined us and she showed keen interest in Khadi on being told of my spinning habit. She wanted a demo of spinning and examined the texture of the khadi dress. I offered to send her cloth for a kurta for her. This is my way of getting the younger generation interested in Khadi. She tried her hand at spinning and promised to take it up. Pandayji thrust two tins of K C Das Rasagollas (one at my request and one his contribution) without agreeing to get paid for it. I was finally able to pay for one tin. I reached Pandayji’s office and spent time with our senior and after a cup of green tea and general talk about where Railways were headed, started for station. My bag was not able to digest the gifts collected and one side zip came off.

The train to Bhubaneshwar which was my next stop was to leave at 11:45 AM and I was on the platform at 11:15 AM. The compartment was freshly washed, flooring was wet and the luggage had to go to the upper berth. The paper rack, water bottle holder and more importantly charger point for mobile was there. I had a young boy just out of school going to Vishakapatnam for Karnataka Medical entrance exam and a family of father, mother and daughter on the opposite berths. The girl looked young, and of school/ college going age. They were going to Warangal to reach Karimnagar. It turned out that she was 22 years and married for a year and was going to join her husband who was in IAF. She had a paper slip with the arrival departure time of stations enroute written, which she dutifully took out after every station and informed us of the trains schedule. I took my lunch of last helping of avalakki and Jola roti. The Andhra family had a big helping of Upma and the boy had Puris and dry sabji. The scene outside was green and pleasing to the eye. I was the first to get down at 07:45 PM and was looking forward to meet Mr and Mrs. Natarajan. Mrs. Natarajan, is an author of repute and one who had given me courage to inflict my writings on public at large. People who are affected know whom to blame. I was little poignant also as I had known their dog, Champagne, a golden retriever had passed away almost a year back. On the way State government and Railway employees boarded and got off and the train became like a commuter train. Many rivers hence and after negotiating heavy thunderstorms at Bhadrak and beyond, the train reached Bhubaneshwar half an hour late. My facebook friend and IITian, Hansraj Sharma met me at the station with an acquaintance from my Southern Railway days, Mr. Srinivasan. After a cup of tea, and a nice bath and change of clothes, I bid them bye and started to meet the Natarajan’s in his car. He had just retired two days back and was still in the official quarter. The house had a lot of pencil sketches (one large portrait of Gandhi included) and very tastefully done. The sign of Beware of Dog at the gate told me that Champagne’s successor was home. Mr. Natarajan said they don’t have the courage to face another bereavement or leaving behind (a.k.a Hachiko) after them. The flat they would move into would also not be conducive to a big pet and once a retriever parent always a retriever parent. You could sense the sadness in the couple and hanging in the house palpably. I passed on my sinful acquisition of unpaid K C Das on them. I had planned to give him a garland of spun yarn on his retirement but deep down I wanted to lay it as a wreath on Champagne’s grave. I was only afraid if they would consider me sentimental and laugh at me. They took me to his grave which eas well maintained with fresh flowers, I laid the wreath on his grave and felt fulfilled. Madam Natarajan gave me an autographed book and fed me sweets and buttermilk. I had declined food offer as I had told them of my experiment of dry rations. After a goof one hour interaction and promise to come again with wife to see Puri temple and having invited them to Hubli, I took leave of them.

I came back and had dinner of Sattu and jaggery and slept. The train was at 06:15AM next day, I woke at 04:00 AM and after finishing the cotton in a small spinning session and tea and a long bath, I settled accounts and went to the station. I bought a packet of Parle-G and not finding milk, settled to have biscuits with water for breakfast. My next train Howrah-Vasco which would take me home. The train came an hour late and was very crowded. I somehow managed to put my luggage under the seat and squeezed in. There were a lot of extra passengers who kept floating around avoiding the TTE. My co-passengers kept to themselves and with no child to break the ice, I had to depend on the book Mrs. Natarajan gave me. The seats opposite were of a mother going to drop her to Vasco, the last stop and the girl’s cousin who worked at Dharwad. The girl bought a Ludo/Snake and Ladder board and the cousins got playing. When we entered Andhra, crowds came in like bees and swarmed the entire compartment. The passengers in the next bay called the TTE and created a scene. Most of the stragglers (most of them very well dressed and with Waitlisted tickets went away, maybe, to some other coach). One family of husband, wife and two young daughters dodged the TTE and hung on for dear life. I thought they would get down before night (Vijayawada at 8 PM). Vijaywada came and went and they did not get off. The children won the sympathy of the mother and cousins in the opposite berths and the girls slept one to middle and upper berth. The husband managed in some aisle. The lady was struggling to keep herself awake and hang on to the edge of the seat. I woke up at 1 AM and found her still balancing her on the edge of the seat, the college kid was considerate and accommodative. I felt ashamed, I got down and asked her to have 40 winks while I sat and looked out. After an hour or so, I got a backache and wanted to stretch. The lady was blissfully asleep. The child on top berth opposite my berth woke up crying, I took her and put her next to the mother. Around 5 AM, the train reached Guntakal and the lady got down and said a silent thanks. I got to my berth and settled into a good sleep. When I got up at 8 AM, the train was at Hospet and the family had gone. Lot of daily passengers got on at Hospet and a Father/Son duo virtually captured our seats and asked us to make way. I gave them a serious talk explaining that this was a reserved coach and they are being a nuisance to passenger who had traveled more than 24 hours and had another 8-10 hours to go.  That chastened them up. Rest of the journey was uneventful and I reached Hubli a full one hour late at 10 AM. Thus ended my Pedong visit. A truly enriching experience. Thanks to my organization and a indulgent boss, I have been able to spend time on my passion!

vishy34@gmail.com

Swami Cool goes Ooh Aah Ouch!

I remember February, 11^th, one year back at Auroville, a talk by Barefoot Ted and Anand Anantharaman on barefoot running accelerated my resolve to go barefoot. Even though I had run all the major events this year barefoot, coming home to Auroville where my romance with barefoot running began overwhelmed me. The trail and the stones and exposed roots kept recurring in my dreams and I was skeptical about my decision to go barefoot on this trail.

The journey was the usual but for the ‘Garib rath’ modern version of cattle train of Hitler which transported 78 people in AC comfort albeit a few hours late. The interiors were very plush ,but, my wife had a tough time getting into the middle side berth. A Railway Mechanical engineer’s dream design whose only punishment I can think off is a long journey in his own creation in the side middle berth! My Quarter Master General and motive force (read my wife) and self reached Pondy on Saturday morning. After a longish wait for the retiring room allotment when I met Haang Rai and Rahul on the platform, we moved into a freshly whitewashed, but, completely bare and severe looking retiring room. It would have given complex to the cellular jail room of Port Blair and the Roben Island prison cell of Nelson Mandela. All this was for a princely sum of Rs. 600. My booking in the guest had a check in time of 2 PM and this was a stop gap arrangement. Wannabe Gandhi had to go commercial this time with Railway higher ups deciding to land up on duty to Pondy on the days of the marathon there.

We refereshed quickly and went to the church opposite the station. I have very fond memories of this church where I attended prayers last year when I came. My wife accompanied me this time. We met Santosh Padmanabhan (a great runner, who guided me through my impending cramps im my failed first Bangalore Ultra 100K attempt in 2010), he was there with his group of kids who would be participating in the 10K at Auroville. The kids and their escorts showed lot of interest in my Khadi wear and we parted promising to cheer each other in the run the next day.

Bib-Bala meanwhile reached Auroville and sent me his vehicle to reach there for bib collection. Got to meet Bala and Balaji who accommodated me in the event after I failed to register in time because of the uncertainty surrounding my late father-in-law’s health. Balaji’s (Bala must have had a hand in it too!)  idea of humour was to put my name as ‘Hubli Express’ on my bib (Bala and I keep ribbing each other on whether I am Hubli Passenger or Express). Wife and self visited Matru-mandir, which we had failed to see last time, but, visit inside it seems requires advance booking. Maybe, next time, As if we need an excuse to go back to Auroville. This gave time to Bala to continue to socialize with his runner friends. I am really amazed at his memory for names, he seems to know all runners by first name and could tell you all about them. He was kind enough to tear himself from bib distribution and we started back to Pondy for an early lunch (compared to 3PM of last year). Bala instructed his wife and friend Selva to reach Hotel Surguru so as to cut delay. Little did we realize that Pndy has four Hotel Surgurus. We ate at a different place than Bala’s family. We met lot of Chennai runners who were having lunch there.

We decided to reach the Guest house and claim our room and shift our luggage after the afternoon nap. Evening was the customary visit to the Ashram followed by an early dinner of Idlis. My wife was starving herself trying to puge herself of the lunch of Surguru. Had interesting company of Bala’s kids and his brother’s kids. We met Ram Viswanathan at the restaurant. I declined Bala’s invitation to go for bib distribution to Santosh’s gang as I had to keep company with my wife who was not looking good. It also gave me an opportunity to go to bed early. We parted promising to meet opposite Romain Rolland library at 2:45 AM next day morning. I could not get sleep for a few hours, very uncharacteristic for me, as I sleep off the moment my head hits the pillow, probably two days of abstinence from running and the dormant fear of the trail! I got up to the mobile alarm at 12:30 AM. Had an extended green-tea and spinning ceremony by the bathroom light. I left at 2:30 AM after waking up my wife to photograph me in my running gear with Annai for the backdrop. I waited at the foot of Bhartiar statue opposite Romain Rolland library after wearing off a few enthusiastic stray dogs by not getting dragged into a fight or flee with them. Bala and Selva came a few minutes later and the bus came and stopped near us, it was a few minutes before time. I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my headgear and used green tea leaves (for chewing on the run). I told the driver to wait while I get back from my room. I did a sprint with the strays now interested, the guard now having gone back to sleep, my wife had to hand me my headgear and green tea leaves through the grill like visitors do to under-trials across prison grills.

I ran back, with the strays now having got used to my nocturnal sojourns, in time and got a window seat in the second row from the last. I started saying my Gayatris to pass time while enjoying the breeze and the scenery outside. The bus stopped at many places and picked up people like a BPO call taxi. Finally we entered the Auroville campus and reached the start point. We made a beeline for the urinals. Thankfully for me, the urinal had a low tap on the ground outside the urinal, so thoughtful for the barefoot runners! I made friends with a few stray dogs who were being fed biscuits by a runner lady. I walked on the cool grass trying not to miss Biscuit (now going on 5 years Labrador dog of mine) trying to recreate my morning walk in the Golf course before my morning run. I met up lot of runners and had interesting discussions about barefoot running and diet (if you can call a one way monologue by me as discussion!). Soon the appointed hour came and after gulping a glass of water I joined the group doing stretching to some rousing music. I had my ego inflated when few guys came up and asked me to get photographed with them. People came up and recognized me by my funny khadi gear and head dress and asked me if I plan to do ma strip tease here too. I told them weather willing it shall be done!

I arranged myself behind the 12kmph mark for runners and set off to the countdown of 3-2-1 at 5 AM. The first aid point was said to be 2.8K away and looked a good place to shed the top. The torch looked very bright and I had asked before taking it if it would last till sunrise. Proving my misgivings right my torch gave after a few kilometers after the strip tease act at KM 2.8. I tried following a guy with a headlight, but, it seemed very dangerous. Luckily for me a lady at a volunteer desk spared me her torch in return for my dud one. This torch was very good and only thing it didn't come with an off switch (I realized when I tried switching it off while crossing under the occasional street lights). The first loop in Auroville is good weather .but, you have to run blind. I did have a few tripping episodes, thankfully I did not have a fall and could balance myself. I was praying for the Sun, God give me light! Funny thing about the Sun, it comes with an in-built heater and I could feel my skin tingling and sweat breaking out announcing the arrival of the villain of the many running battles with me, the SUN! A few stretches were really harsh on my sole, but, as I told somebody next to me, what I couldn't see, couldn't hurt me. I am thankful for the darkness but for it I would not have had the courage to take on the trail barefoot.

The second loop was the best with the best of breeze and light and Sun not too harsh. I kept up the banter with people who crossed or whom I crossed. The best part of the run was when we ran with half-marathoners and the 10K runners. The energy and the chatter seemed to energise one.  There was much mirth and ribbing when I sought to cross runners with my catch phrase ‘Make way for the Hubli Passenger!’ I did not stop at aid stations and there was much joy for the volunteers on my funny gear and refrain that Hubli Passenger does not stop there! A thoughtful inmate had got a bucket of cold water and offered to douse my head in a mug of cold water. He called my head a radiator and I corrected him that it was the CPU. His name was most appropriately, Shankar. I called back to him that he was true to lord Shiva’s other name, Gangadhar (the bearer of river Ganges!).

In my third loop, the Sun really started taking its toll. All through my run, Jagdish Sir and I kept going neck and neck and he was great company though we barely exchanged a word. Two foreigners (I am sorry, I did not get their name) one lady and a gent ran strongly and crossed me in the third loop. Shreys ran along for a little distance and did not want to overtake me, I am glad he ran ahead giving me the challenge to follow him strongly. I met Ram Viswanathan’s mother twice and she was run/walking at a steady pace. I must now digress to introduce the new sobriquet I earned in this run. In my many runs earlier I have been variously called Gandhi, Baba Ramdev, Joker etc. I was surprised when one lady called out Swami Cool when I crossed their group. I found it cool and started repeating it whenever somebody called out Swami to me thereafter. One other interesting episode was a young boy riding his small bicycle who rang the cycle bell to cheer me when I crossed him and asked him to do so, much to the joy of his mother. I stopped again for the head-bath and Shankar was happy to oblige. My soles were quite tender by the time I negotiated the pebbly patch in the third loop. It was only an old man’s stubbornness that kept me from removing my slippers from the pocket and cheating on the barefoot run. Thank god I had the perseverance to complete the run barefoot.

The finish point was very different this time, we ran into a separate lane for each category with a large LED clock announcing the timing and rousing accolades from the announcer and clap of hands from the crowd. I got a volunteer give me a bag and medal before the finish point and I stopped after that. The announcer reminded me to go on to the finish point which I did strongly. I had finished in 3 hours and 51 minutes! I had shaved off a good 37 minutes from my last year finish timing of 4.28. The only difference I could see was the barefoot! I cannot discount the one year of training on my very own NH 218.

After a good breakfast of Pongal, Vadai and Sambar, The young girl at the breakfast counter who was wiping and giving the plate could have been a girl at the reception of a south Indian wedding standing with rose water sprinkler. Why do I always get this feeling of having attended a cousin’s wedding averytime I come to Auroville for a run. If only the Pasta dinner could have an option for Curd rice! I asked my wife not to come if she had not started as I planned to return by first bus so as to be able to take a good bath and pack for vacating the room at 12 Noon (I surely could not afford another day at the royal fare of Rs. 1050/- per night). We had interesting conversations on the bus back to Pondy and said warm farewells to departing runners with promise to meet again next year!

Till we meet again at Auroville in February 2014!

Of Kumbh Mela and the Mumbai Marathon

I had casually compared Mumbai marathon to Kumbh mela and us barefoot runners to Naga sadhus, but, more I think about it more there seems to be in common between the two!

While milling with the other Full marathon participants in the holding area at Azad Maidan in the wee hours before the start of the event, the similarities came out starkly. The various contingents like the Bangalore Pacers, Chennai runners, Pune runners etc. resembled the various akharas waiting to take the plunge. The discussion was the diet and training while the Sadhus at Kumbh, I am sure, must be discussing matters of the spirit. It was like each participant experiments with his self in the interim and comes back each year to compare notes!

My brother a veteran of few marathons, but, still overawed by the atmosphere and the crowd and I were doing stretching and counting time to the start. A middle aged person of nondescript age but bearing a super-veteran bib came over finding out if start time for them is different. Ram avtar as he called himself was said to be 65 years of age and claimed to have done a marathon in 3.30. His prescription, keep your weight in check and be disciplined about training, simple isn’t it! Just then a runner passed us complete with water jacket with a tube for hydration, it takes all kinds.

Just a few days before the event a topic for discussion on the facebook scared us barefoot runners stating that the Worli Sea Link stretch was like a bed of needles and absolutely non-negotiable on barefoot. I had tried out carrying my slippers in my pant pockets for the exigency in my last run on Friday at Hubli before starting for the event. I was now moving around with one slipper each in each of my pockets. I had a tough time smuggling them in through the security man at the entrance. He had a hearty laugh after he heard the story. My mobile was already reconciled to sharing the pocket with my left slipper during the run.

My wife and I had reached the previous day to the city of dreams, but, not without our share of excitement courtesy, my employer Indian Railways. My job makes it difficult to plan leave or reserve in advance; I had to forcefully depend on Emergency Quota to get a berth on train. Surprise, my PA rushed in on the day of journey to say that we have not been allotted a berth. My wife on being told sent tremors through the phone line threatening to withdraw from the honorary post of my trainer, cheerleader and dietician. I called the Chief Commercial Manager and requested for putting us on the train. He ensured one berth in AC 3 Tier and promised more to come. My wife reluctantly agreed to accompany me to Mumbai. We got upgraded to AC 2Tier before bedtime. Rest of the journey was an unending orgy of gorging me with food; we runners have a technical term for this, Carb-loading.

The other act of drama for us railway men, uncertainty of accommodation in Railway rest-house, was spared this time as my friend and colleague got me a confirmed allotment at VT station (sorry! CST). Anticipating delay in settling in railway accommodation, I had taken Bala’s (popularly known in running circles as Bib-Bala) offer of picking up my running kit for me. The room was comfortable, but, not roomy enough to take in my brother and Bala in addition to us. The Geyser was working but the outlet tap was jammed and did not yield any hot water. We tried all our tricks with the caretaker to get him to set the tap right. He offered to get us hot water in a bucket. Result, wife and self finished our bath with half a bucket each, maybe; this is Indian Railways contribution to water and energy conservation.

Having got ready before 8 AM and bib distribution slated to start at 11 AM, we decided to pay a visit to Mahalakshmi temple. I was informed by Active darshan network earlier that my favourite, Siddivinayak, had taken a few days off for Sindoor lepan (maintenance vacation). Bib-Bala had an interesting take on this, he said Siddivinayak needed to repair and recuperate after Sunny Leone’s appointment! I told my brother and Bala that we shall meet at Expo at 11AM.

We took Local train to Mahalakshmi station and walked to the temple. The two storey houses of one room houses with a metal staircase dotted the sidewalk. Some of the ground floor apartments had businesses running like a hair cutting saloon. Jairam Ramesh will be hurt to see that there were no toilets! After a 2-3KM walk, we reached the temple. I was elated to see that Mahalakshmi had Shakti and Sarawsati for company (my favourites!). In an expansive mood I offered my wife that we could go back to Mahalakshmi station by shared Taxi. The driver waiting outside the temple told me that for Rs. 25/- (shared taxi would have cost us 20) we could have a private taxi. It also saved us half a KM of walk. We reached Churchgate by Local and took a bus to World Trade Centre. We beat Bala to the Expo by a handsome 15 minutes.

Met Bobby and Suresh of the Bangalore Pacemakers. The bib-distribution was very professionally managed. Bala was wholesome in his praise of how well they have arranged the kits that they did not take any time to locate one’s kit. I was advised to get my timing chip activated/checked at a separate counter. This done, I went down to collect my Goodie bag. The crowd was slowly building up, but, the beauty was that every person felt he has been lucky as the later person faced bigger queue. Roshni Rai of Comrade fame trooped in with her charge of runners from Darjeeling. It was nice meeting them after a long time; they were fabulous in their hospitality when I went there for the Pedong run. We wished each other well for the marathon on Sunday. Meanwhile my brother and Bala came and collected their kits.

We all decided to retire to Matunga for an unlimited South Indian meal. We were treated to non-stop banter from Bala enroute. He has wonderful ideas for supporting poor runners on a sustainable basis. It was close to 2PM when we trudged into Mani mama’s Mess. Poor man was not aware of rampaging Vishy’s exploits in Chetana restaurant the previous year after the Marathon. He sedately handed out four lunch coupons. We were offered a table on the first floor. The table was too small to accommodate four plantain leaves, we managed. We gorged on a full three course meal. My brother of Army officer training, despite Bala’s reservations, had no hesitation in digging in with his bare hand to do full justice to the meal. It was worth all of the Rs. 110/- per meal. When came down after the meal, my stomach seemed to have a mind of its own and was moving independent of rest of my body. My wife and I took a train to VT and Bala took upon himself to put my brother on to a train to Churchgate while going to Andheri. My brother was to pick up his luggage and join us at the rest-house in the evening. It was very tough to keep awake while all the blood had deserted my head to service the overload in the stomach. I reached the rest house in a trance and managed to change before crashing into a sleep.

My brother joined us in the evening with his bag and baggage. My wife meanwhile had managed to terrorise the caretaker to produce the plumber to set right the hot water tap. We all took the customary pre-race stroll on the Marine drive. It turned out to be a long walk and we returned back by 9 PM. After a quick dinner of Brown bread, Jam and Milk we retired to sleep with Alarm at 2 AM. I had a fitful sleep and I woke up at 1AM. I had an extended session of spinning and green tea. I woke up my brother at 3 AM. We had a breakfast (looked like Sehri during Ramzan) of Dates, Brown bread and Jam. My brother dared to take a bath and announced that the geyser does not work. To him coming from North of Vindhyas it would have been all in a day’s work. I a lesser mortal from South India chose discretion and changed into my running clothes. The fancy press buttons (a first time and a brilliant idea!) supplied with the racing bib did not go with my thick Khadi, and I had to settle for the conventional safety pins. Quickly tucking spent green tea leaves in my cheeks I followed my brother to Gate No. 5 for participants’ entry.

The runners were busy interacting with each other and the usual question of expected time was doing the rounds. I repeated the few stretching exercises I know between visits to the Portable Loo to empty my tank. The organizers had thoughtfully kept the loos closer to the start point this time. I cannot take the Marine drive for the way I use the NH-218 in Hubli for relieving myself unabashedly. The scene was reminiscent of that outside a delivery room where expectant fathers are shown pacing. The organizers were in no mood to start and a sleepy announcer asking Mumbaikars to Run Mumbai Run gave me hope of the event starting. There seemed to be no time for segregating runners into enclosures depending on pedigree (my wife has not excused me for being careless and missing the elite ‘A’ enclosure by 2 minutes). Before we know we were inching towards the clock which was already past the 5.40AM mark. Even the countdown did not happen and the race started from outside VT station.

The feel of the familiar Mumbai road on the bare feet and the sea breeze on the face set the adrenaline pumping. In the initial part of the run, I had a lot of people to negotiate in the initial part of the run. I let out a loud war cry after every KM fell much to the amusement of other runners. The road was well lit and I was able to negotiate the pebbles and rough stretches easily. By and by the runners thinned out and we had good elbow room to propel ourselves. We turned into the Marine drive and the cool sea breeze welcomed me. I was feeling good and I pressed on, it was like having my foot on the gas pedals of a Ferrari, I had no discomfort in speeding up. No sweat meant my Salman Khan act postponed to KM6. In the confusion of the start, I had not started my stop watch at the right time and the start time was also not 5.40 exactly. Ignorance was real bliss! I was running a blinder without looking at my watch. I was trusting my legs and instinct and hoping that I have enough to last the distance. At KM6 I took a strip-break to remove my top, and invited a few cat calls, I was not among the cognoscenti!

My strategy was simple this time beat my sworn enemy, the Sun, to the Seal Link and try to catch the next person ahead of me. I planned to spend sometime with each person I crossed. Some took lot of effort in beating. I was variously cheered and jeered for my unusual attire, barefoot. I am made of stronger stuff and was reveling in it.

Suddenly the majestic sea link structure loomed before me, before I could exult, the fear of the treacherous trail scared me. To add to my fears, the initial stretch had round pebbles of big size stuck together for grip. My soles were not comfortable. Before I could surrender to the comfort of the sippers, the road eased and I was saved the ignominy of having to give up on the barefoot run. I crossed Ram Avtar on the Sea link. The Sun was nowhere in sight, either he was in Sunday mood, or, I was fast.

I now started taking water breaks, I settled for the energy drink in the paper cartons. The volunteers were so insistent in serving you that it looked rude to refuse. Everybody had a kind word for the barefoot baba. Slowly Mumbai had woken up and the crowds lining the roads started nullifying the Sun’s effect of tiring you. The crowd cheer is the best drug, if only Lance knew! There were stretches of scuffed up road but nothing worse than what the under construction road in Hubli had not prepared me for.

Now we were running through buildings and apartments and it was getting even more difficult to refuse the insistent kids hospitality. I took a break and downed one energy drink and a glass of water. Maybe, I needed the break more than the liquids. I met Bobby and Neera, they were about 1-2 KM ahead of me at the INS Treta bend. They were going strong. This is where my brother crossed on the other side and we exchanged cheers. Today seemed to be my day and I could it seemed push the pedal at will and the old machine responded. The fear of the cramp, however, kept lurking deep down.

I had a good few 100 meters with Suresh Seshadri before he cheered me on to go on. Wherever I saw a camera I posed with a V sign and my smile widened. But, my antics were much less this year. Presently, I reached the climb of Peddar Road, even the dreaded flyovers of Hyderabad cannot prepare you for this steady and steep climb at this point of the run. I did it running even if my breathing got laboured. All along I kept overtaking runners. I started to believe that if the race lasted long enough, I could outrun anybody. God had been very kind to me today.

I now started harbouring a thought that if I pushed on, I could beat the elite runners to the finish line (what does it matter that they start one hour and forty minutes after you). This is where I saw Pani Sir running in an affected manner, I drew alongside him and exchanged pleasantries. It seems one of his legs was playing up, but, he was manfully soldiering on.  I kept looking for my wife on the Marine drive, have I been too fast for her. Now was the home stretch and I gave my legs and lungs all I had and turned the Ambassador hotel bend. The dream runners were coming in the opposite direction and I could not resist a few antics and responding to cat calls. This year the organizers had separated the walkers from the runners and it was very thoughtful of them. Now the familiar signs of 1000m, 500m and 200m appeared and contrary to other runs where you feel relieved to finish a run, I was actually feeling sad. I did a Usain Bolt at 200m metre mark much to the delight of the Dream run contingent and finished strongly. My wife was wildly gesturing for me at 1000m mark. I ran into a happy Bangalore runners group of Bobby, Neera, Brijesh, Brojen et al.

I relaxed with other finishers and waited for my brother to come in so that we could go together and claim refreshments and medal. This is where an Asian Age reporter cornered me and I boasted about myself and he faithfully reproduced it in the TOI the next day. Presently my wife wife rang up and said that my brother has crossed her point and that she is reaching the rest house. Around 10 AM by my watch my brother steamed in really pleased with his PB of 4.09. My wife messaged me that I had finished in 3.36.19. Her mobile number was registered when I registered for SCMM earlier and PROCAM had sent a message to that number. I felt good and it was the second swallow after the 3.38 at Chennai, Maybe, its Summer after all!

We reached the rest house and after a hot water bath (it required an Electrical Engineer, your’s truly’s tinkering to figure it out) proceeded for the customary after marathon lunch at Chetana restaurant. Bala meanwhile was not responding to my calls. Readers will recall that after a particularly heavy lunch, I had suggested to the proprietor of Chetana restaurant that he has the option of either increasing the rates or removing the option of unlimited Thali from his menu. We found that he had decided to increase the rates, what costed me Rs. 270 last year was a royal Rs. 330 (Rs. 15/- weekend surcharge to boot) now. I bit the bullet and did justice to the meal to the best of my ability. My brother took the Taxi to airport and I dropped into a well deserved sleep.

The run was very satisfying and the charm of this marathon even after three outings does not diminish, Mumbai I will come again next year!

Farewell Thanki

I entered the start/finish point for the 10^th time to a thunderous welcome. The audience matched my gesture of ten fingers to signify completion of 10 rounds signaling the completion of the Full Marathon and the announcer welcomed me in his distinct style. I had finished the midnight marathon in 3hours 53 minutes and 13 seconds. I carried on for a few more meters to meet Pani Sir, my daughter (Who had finished her Half Marathon earlier) and Brojen, my cheer squad for the night. I was extremely tired, sleepy and freezing.  I looked up to the sky in silent prayer; I know Thanki would have been smiling down at me and my daughter for having participated.Earlier the previous day, Thanki (this is how my daughter used to call my father-in-law, Venkatraman, Venky for short and the name stuck), lost his short battle with Cancer at 4:45 AM in a city hospital.

My daughter and I reached the venue about 30 minutes before the start, my brother who had flown down from Kolkata after attending a conference earlier in the day, joined us. It was extremely cold and we were yawning and shivering. I was even questioning myself if it was prudent to have reached the start point to participate. Soon DM and fb friends started greeting and the mood set in. There was lot of interest as usual in my khadi gear and bare foot! The race started at the appointed time. I took one full loop to warm up and shed my top. The crowd congregated near the start point kept up a chant and it pepped me up. The course was a little harsh on the bare feet at the start of the loop and immediately the gradient which though not as steep as the Naidu’s Cyberabad made up for the gradient with the length. In the first few loops I ran through the climb, but, I was feeling the strain. My ego did not let me walk in the following loops. I found my daughter walking and my brother was slipping behind. I got a doubt if I was going too fast and would I last the entire distance. Thankfully the food was holding in my stomach. I had had a late dinner of south Indian spicy food as late as 8PM. I was doing everything which was against the manuals and what experts would advice for a Marathon.

Pani Sir with his notebook in hand (I am not sure if he kept my loop timings) and his pacemakers team cheered me after each loop. Many runners wished me on the way and made the going easy. The weather ensured that there were no water breaks till I finished three loops, though, I had to stop for a biological break (the organizers had thankfully kept a portable loo near a watering point). My legs started weariying after the half way mark. I was torn between whether to slow down or get it over fast. Cramping looked a distinct threat, I could see increasingly people on the sides stretching to avoid or cure cramps. My brother had fallen behind, but, was cheerful whenever we crossed. The crowd had caught on to my game of raising the number of the loop completed every time I crossed the start point. I picked up energy bars on the run and made friends with kids by offering them the same. It was nice to see young children enthusiastically cheering well past their bed time. I completed the ninth loop and 3 hours 30 minutes had elapsed from start, my daughter’s smiling face welcomed me at the start point. Brojen set me off with cheerful words egging me on for a sub-4 finish. I was doubtful, Amma was more kind than Yeddy in torture meted out to the bare foot runners. My only concern was to finish without a cramp. I crossed my brother beyond the half way mark and I pushed on trusting short period of more torture than waiting for the cramps lomnger on the course. Pani Sir’s welcome after the finish and a thoughtful bottle of water collected by my daughter put some life back in me. Lots of people came to congratulate me and I am reaping the benefits in the number of friend requests on DailyMile and FaceBook even till today as I write. My daughter and I limped back to the organizers desk for collecting my finisher’s medal and waited for my brother to finish. After saying a quick goodbye to my brother we started off for home at 4:45 AM.

After a hot water shower, I got barely half an hour in bed to warm myself before I had to join my brother-in-law to go to Srirangapatna to consign the mortal remains of my father-in-law. The journey through the crowded roads leading upto the river river Kaveri with my bro-in-law tightly holding on to what was left of his father was playing out my association with the man who handed his precious daughter to be my better half! It was ironical that if Karnataka decides to give water to TN (with necessary promptings from the SC), my father-in-law’s remains will reach Kumbakonam downstream to where it all began, my f-in-law spent his formative and most part of adult life in Kumbakonam.

I have known this man for now close to twenty two years. Now a father myself of a lovely twenty year old daughter, I can understand that it’s the most difficult thing to accept any young man as good enough to be your precious daughter’s (and a first born at that) husband, even if our religion places the son-in-law to be the lord Narayana itself! Our initial formal relation blossomed into what was to become a Mutual Admiration Society by the time he took his bow out from the world stage. He mellowed over time from a tough loud voiced father to a good friend. I admired his love for travel, adventure and good food (even if diabetic). Nothing exemplifies his single minded devotion to challenging himself than his taking part in the TCS 7K walkathon after recovering from his open heart surgery. I am sure he would be pleased that my daughter and I kept our appointment for the Midnight marathon and finished it for him. He made friends with kids easily and he was extremely extrovert and helped me become a more outgoing person. I am sure he must be among friends and enjoying good food by the time this hits the press.

Midnight marathon done and now onwards to the Mecca of all marathons the Mumbai marathon in less than a month!

Madras Nalla Madras

I had been keeping away from Marathons conducted in Chennai (nee Madras) after I read a few reports about how badly they were handled. Sudha Mani fellow runner from Chennai made a pitch during Hyderabad Marathon this year about how the Chennai runners would be organizing this year and that it would be nice. I registered and my daughter also followed suit (even if it meant air lifting her from Delhi after her internship!). My wife refused to join us as the visit was too short, a little over 24 hours only! This let the Gandhi wannabe the freedom to indulge in Sleeper class travel. My daughter’s flight was to reach at 1 PM and it gave me a little more than an hour to park my luggage at the railway rest house and rush to the airport (if the train kept to time!).

I was worrying about staying in the Railway rest-house near Central station and the problems of travelling early on Sunday to IIT for the run. In answer to my prayers, Bala, a good friend and a runner from Chennai, called the day prior to my leaving and requested (to be frank ordered!) that we stay at his place. He also offered to have our kits collected (not for nothing he is christened bib-Bala!). My wife got into the act and our kitchen garden was harvested for taking to Bala’s home. I felt like a country bumpkin carrying garden fresh vegetables to my city cousin!

I caught the train on 30th night after an early dinner (even by my standards) and despite meticulous packing by my wife, I boarded without a sheet to protect me from the elements. My wife got into mission mode to see how she could get me the sheets for my return journey on Sunday. I was allotted a side lower berth and the two backrests did not sit evenly causing me discomfort when I lay down. I put down the steel shutters and the glass window and bravely lay down to sleep armed with a flimsy towel which could cover only one half of my body. Some of the co-passengers had a bad experience with Pulao sold at the station as it had too much salt and they had to throw the food.  As the train caught speed, both the shutter and the glass pane came off by turns and sent me cowering for cover. The unmatched seats did their bit to making my night as uncomfortable as can be. A railway man given the taste of his own medicine! I had a bad night and was left craving for the Sun to warm my old and cold bones.

The train got empty at Yeshwantpur, a suburb of Bangalore. I could do with some green tea and a bright Sun. Sun came out at the appointed hour and the train while hurtling through the built up area of Bangalore gave me some warm snatches of sunlight. I had used the toilet at my usual wake up time of 2AM and having warmed to the sun, I now set out to feed myself on the Bread and Jam. I kept looking at the extract of the timetable as I crossed each station to see if the train was on time.

The train was now largely occupied by railway employees returning from and going to their work. Amma and the power crisis in the state of TN was the center of conversation which I refused to join despite sufficient provocation. My fear of being lynched for the state of my spoken Tamil was also a reason for my subdued behavior. The milling crowds of office-goers and students on the various suburban stations kept me occupied. I did not have to go back to Vinoba Bhave’s ‘Talks on Gita’ for the rest of the journey. Train stopped at Basin bridge and next at the outer signal giving me anxious moments, but, it reached Chennai at 11:40AM a full 15 minutes in advance (A gentle hint to the Hubli passenger for the Sunday run?).

My usually efficient PA and my colleague for Southern Railway had not given me any confirmation of allotment of room in the rest-house. I rushed with the luggage from PF No. 1 to the 9^th Floor in the adjoining Moore Market complex. I was relieved to see my name in the list of allottees (my contribution to the Websters) and more joyed as the room was the second from start, every second saved counts! I rushed and plonked my luggage and returned to rush to the suburban station of Parktown across the road to catch a train to the Airport. I had to wade through a sea of humanity (why is it always against the direction you are going, another Parkinsons Law!) to reach the station. I got a train soon and it was 12 Noon. The journey takes 45 minutes and that meant that the asking rate was well and truly under control. I texted my daughter that I was on the way to the airport and settled back to snooze in the warm sun of Chennai.

The train reached Tirusulam, the rail head for the Chennai airport at 12:50PM. The subway leading from the station to the airport was extremely dark and I gingerly crossed. There were no clear signages to lead one to the arrivals gate. It struck me that some clear signages at the Airport and a well lit subway could encourage people to take the suburban train and help check pollution and the cause of energy conservation. 1 PM came and went, but, there were no announcements. There was no board indicating arrivals also. I settled down to wait observing people who had come to see off and receive their near and dear ones. I tried reading the baggage tags on the arriving passengers baggage to see if I could spot a Indigo flight tag from Delhi, alas, all the tags only had the destination boldly printed (they were meant for the baggage handlers and not waiting relatives at the destination!).

At 13:30 my daughter called saying she has landed and that she would collect bagged and come. I acknowledged safe arrival to the consignor friend’s family at Delhi and my anxious wife back in Hubli. It was worth the wait to finally spot my daughter beaming through the glass at the arrival gate. She continued to strip her heavy woolens to adjust to the Chennai weather. She was game to walk to the suburban station to catch a suburban train back to Chennai. She fed me on her one month stay at Delhi and her experience on the flight.

We negotiated the dark subway and I joined my daughter in criticizing the Municipal authorities for their callous work. Soon we were inside a first class compartment with only standing room. An old gentleman thought it necessary to warn me that we were in a first class compartment and could get fined. I thanked him for his concern (It happens only in Chennai and Kolkata and maybe with older folks only, who take liberty of advising!) and told him that, being a railway man, I am entitled to travel first class on suburban. As if on cue, a ticket checking squad entered at the next station. It was led by a lady official who accepted my statement of being a railway officer without challenge (does it show on our face!). I insisted on showing her my prized silver metal pass. She and her team were very polite but firm with the ticketless passengers and had raked in quite a bounty from the erring passengers. My daughter was pleased with the lady’s performance and I felt good.

We got down at Egmore and walked into a restaurant for a meal as it was well past 2 PM. Food was decent but nowhere near the standards of the famed ‘Ramprasad’ hotel meal I used to have during our probation. I have a nagging fear that our excesses on his offer of unlimited meals may have also led to his closing down his business.

Got back to the rest house and crashed with alarms set for 5:30PM. Our main reason for refusing Bala’s generous and insistent offer of dinner at their place was our plan to walk down to Marina beach and follow it with the famed Idli Sambar at Ratna Café in Triplicane. The sky was overcast and Kareena seemed to have planned to sabotage our walk in the Sun/Moon. I tried assuring my daughter that lack of practice would not affect her finishing her Half marathon the next day. It got quite dark by the time we reached the beachfront, even though the time was only 6:30 PM. We walked with cones of salted groundnuts but did not go near the water. The beach was quite crowded as it usually is. It was nice to walk in the cool sands in our bare feet.

We took the road from Kannagi statue towards Triplicane high road smelling for Ratna café. We walked past the famed Chepauk stadium. I reminded my daughter that this is where I had come in my TVS50 in January, 1990 to visit my would be wife (and now my wife)!

Soon we were abreast the crowded Ratna Café and entered it to the welcoming aroma of Coriander powder laced sambar. We settled on an empty table and ordered the usual with the air of regulars. Soon two plates of steaming Idlis on plaintain leaf covered steel plates and two eversilver spoons arrived, but, surprise surprise, the waiter brought a plate containing two Jalebis. I politely told him we haven’t ordered for it. To our delight he said that it was on the house as the day was the joint’s 70th anniversary. Soon the famous mug overflowing with sambar came out and the Idlis were covered with the magic potion. We mashed the Idlis and much unlike Idlis we get at home these disintegrate like fine rava and soak up all the Sambar. Jeeves waits for this and approvingly pours out more sambar in the plate. It is really surprising how much sambar can be held in a flat steel plate. Quickly the idlis vanished and we repeated the order and to be fair to the dish we could not discern any demonstration of the Law of Diminishing Marginal returns! We took photos of the lavish spread, before we polished them off, for posterity.

In my moment of Ratna café Idli softened mood I offer to my daughter that we could take an auto to Central and my daughter did not need a second invitation. We reached the rest house, packed the stuff for the night stay and started to catch the MRTS to near Bala’s place, Kotturpuram. We just missed one train as we entered the platform, I desisted from trying to board a running train despite my daughter’s taunt (am I getting old!).  We had to wait for another 20 minutes till the next train came, meanwhile, we were treated to Tamil songs on mobile by a few street side Romeos (not that we had a choice). After two stops, I beat my head when I found the Tiruvallikeni stop staring at me. I could have taken a MRTS from Triplicane to Chennai (avoidable expenditure of Rs. 50/-). Soon we crossed Greenways road stop and I alerted Shanti (Bala’s wife) as she had promised to bring their vehicle to pick us up (Bala was recuperating from distributing running bibs after his first marathon in his series of 12 marathons in 12 days). The kids had gone to sleep. They tried waking up the kids to meet us and I stopped them. Meeting them would have to wait till after the run the next day.

Balas’ have very spartanly but very artistically maintained their house. They have no TV and minimum furniture. He had rolled out a Pai (woven mat) for my sleep and my daughter got to share the bed with Shanti and his daughter. Bala and his son Krishna were in the other room. I say Bala’s easy chair, the one he uses for resting without sleeping for his early morning runs. The all night working of pouring of concrete in the next plot under construction kept me tossing and turning and I woke up before my alarm announced 2 AM. I had a good session of spinning during hydration. Bala woke up shortly thereafter and after cold water bath went through elaborate prayers. We woke up my daughter at 4 AM. Bala wanted me to come to his office to pick up some caps for distribution after the event. He showed me his office. It showed how he does business as a benevolent Uncle/father even if he loses employees is the bargain.

We reached home at 4:30AM and after I had pinned the running number on my daughter’s top (not before taking a shot at her expanding middle!) I changed into my shorts. I pinned the running number to my shorts in preparation for the strip tease during the run. We left after telling Shanti that we would call her after we finish, mark my estimate, most likely at 9:30AM. I was expecting a four and half hour finish.

We reached the venue with 20 minutes to go. There I met a lady runner from Chandigarh who my brother had told me would be coming. I put her in touch with my daughter and joined the milling crowd at the start line. The scene at the start line of a marathon always gives me a feeling of race horses stamping and breathing heavily on the race course. I met Dr. Ram and quite a few other Dailymile friends. Shri Ram Viswanathan (now famous at our house after his interview in Jaya TV) flagged off the race.

I took the rear so that I don’t get stamped on my bare feet from people trying to overtake. The crowd was very subdued as compared to the raucous start of ADHM/Delhi or the size of crowd at SCMM. I tried to engage people in conversation as I weaved through the runners. I remember somebody advised me to conserve energy by not shouting. Soon I was out of the campus and we turned right to hit the main road. The weather was very pleasant and there was not much humidity. Still after about a kilometer, I took off my top on the flyover, much to the amusement of the policeman on duty. The winding stretch between Adyar and Lighthouse was quite tortous for my bare feet, I called this stretch the Amma’s torture. Soon we were on the beach road and there was company of morning walkers. Excepting the kids, the elders had to to waved to called out to to elicit a return greeting. The policemen were much more forthcoming in their response to my greetings. The KM marks were not yet posted and I was running to my feel and had no idea of my speed. The road was smooth as a baby’s bum (to quote Barefoot Ted) or like Hema Malini’s cheeks (much closer reference by Shri Lalu Prasad) and the sea breeze heavenly. Soon I spied the Ugandan and the leader of the pack returning from the opposite direction. You just cannot stop from admiring their running style.

Soon we were directed to a lane on the right from the Beach road before the bridge and I got into a rougher road. I was tempted to take a biological break, but, it did not offer much protection even to the male runners. I had not taken any water break till now.  On the return direction I continued strongly and soon sighted the 16K mark back on the beach road. I looked at my watch; I had taken one hour and 24 minutes. I felt I was on course for a 4:12 finish. I crossed Bala and Dr. Ram on the Beach road and exchanged high fives with other runners also. It was great to be able to run in the middle of the Beach road. Sun peeped out, but, did not look threatening at all. I had done 20K in one hour 52 minutes, I was on course for a sub 2 hr. HM. I then took a biological break on a side lane and many more followed suit. I encountered the tortuous stretch now and my feet were scuffed and hurt a bit. Soon I was back on the Adyar road and the traffic was building up on the other side of the road. Lot of people commented on my attire and bare feet, mostly complimentary but, a few jeers also. I have got used to take it in my stride.

I then entered the IIT gate for the two loops inside the campus. The shaded trees were very welcoming, but, the IIT crowd was conspicuous by their absence. I crossed my daughter at her KM18 and she was plodding on. In my second loop I met Bala and Dr. Ram and they cheered me on. I realized I had not looked at my watch very much and I seem to be going faster, but, my lungs were not stretched and legs were holding. Anyway, the KM marks were not very regular and I lost track of speed and time. I ran to my rhythm. I did not even stop to take snaps of a few deer which crossed my path or stopped in its Sunday morning breakfast.

My running was hampered by a lot of walkers who wanted to run hand in hand without regard to runners following them. I maintained a constant chant asking them to give way in English and Tamil. For an added measure, I asked them to give me a cheer, which invariably made them go up in a cheer. Soon I entered the stadium and with 300m to the finish, my watch showed 8:35AM, I was well on course for a sub 3:40 finish. I had a tough time negotiating differently abled children on wheel chairs who were finishing their run, I am not complaining! I reached the finish point to find my beaming daughter. A young volunteer put a finisher’s medal around my neck. The medal was very well crafted and quite heavy! In all this I forgot to stop my stop watch. When I stopped it, it showed 3 hours 40 minutes. Now with the results out, I have it that I have done it in 3 hours, 38 minutes and 22 seconds. My earliest best for a marathon was in my SCMM in 2011, 3 hour 52 minutes. Some are saying the course was 1K short. My daughter finished her HM in 2:45, an improvement of 32 minutes over her Hyderabad debut. That despite no practice and severe cramping after her KM 18. Chennai is kind to its guests!

I must put in a word for the volunteers manning the aid stations along the route. They were very professional. The liquid was just the right quantity in the cup and the volunteer met the runner so that he/she does not have to change course. Small things, but, which I am sure every runner must have noticed and appreciated. I and my daughter got to talking about it on our journey back and I immediately rang up Sudha Mani and asked her to pass on our appreciation to the volunteers.

The breakfast was a jumbo sandwich, a muffin, an apple and a packet of salted potato chips. I was a little disappointed, I get a feeling that this somehow did not go with the ambience and character of the Chennai run. My suggestion would be that the organizers could adopt the traditional Pongal, Vadai and Sambar breakfast of Auroville. The reference to Auroville was apt more so because there were a group of physical trainers helping runners in their after run stretch. I drew a trainer by name Yuvraj, who did a wonderful job on me and had me as good as new, but, for my scuffed souls. I am sure that in the coming years, this event has a chance of holding its own even with the famed SCMM.

Having bored you all enough, shall not elaborate on the return journey. Suffice to say that this event will see bigger crowds in the years to come! Hubli passenger signs off with the promise to return in the Bangalore Midnight marathon of 15^th December night, Insha-Allah!