Of incognito royal visit on my chariot

This is my blog of events of the 13^th before leaving for the Mumbai Marathon.

This must be becoming all too familiar to my readers, my getting late to bed due to late night creative effort of posting of the blog. I don’t know whether to call it ruminating the day’s experience to perfection or procrastination. I slept after uploading my previous day’s blog at 12:30 AM. Woke up late, Biscuit co-operated; his walk was businesslike and finished in 25 minutes, his personal best. No spinning today, nowadays my literary effort is interfering with my Gandhian karma-yoga; need to find a different slot (I wonder how Gandhi found time to do so many things in the same allotted 24 hours).

I had announced to my better half the previous day that I would not run today; when I was humming and hawing at a loose end after returning with Biscuit after the walk; sensing the signs of my escape into another run, she came and stood with hands on hip challenging me to try it! Discretion being better part of valour, I settled for a bi-cycle ride, without disclosing the route or the distance. I wanted to say my byes to Raghavendra and Shaheed and not to forget my own Sunflowers at KM 15.

I set off on my bi-cycle (my daughter’s lady-bird cycle which she used to absolutely prohibit me to ride and embarrass her) for my visit to the Sunflower patch. I also wanted to test if the flow of creative juices on my run was the physical effort of my legs, the route or a combination. Will the juices flow if I substitute bi-cycle for my run?

Owing to the late start and change in mode of traction, people did not take notice of me; Mother Theresa looking down from across the St. Mary’s school’s boundary wall also did not acknowledge me. I felt like the kings of yore who used to travel incognito to get a first hand feel of the state of their rule and the well being of their subjects. Mother Theresa’s police escorts of the night had left trusting the Sun to dissuade miscreants from any misadventure. I found my effort of riding to be easier on my body than running, but, I think some part of mind was unconsciously engaged in balancing my steed, hampering my mind to freely wander around and collect thoughts.

I saw my friend Anup walking back from his point and recognizing me (my disguise was not so good after all), gave me a big smile of welcome; I was riding on his side of the road. I answered the unasked but the obvious question he wore on his face; I had traded a bike for my feet, as I was resting for the Mumbai effort the coming Sunday. He wished me luck and moved on. Was I doing this to get as many ‘Best of Luck’ for my upcoming SCMM?

The conventional manuring of the plot by the shepherd’s herd of sheep was still on, but, they seem to be winding up; must talk to the shepherd on my way back! Raghavendra and Shaheed with one more of their friend of age between the two of them were lying in wait for me at KM 8. They were pleased to see me but the look of betrayal on their faces of my having graduated to a bicycle called for explanation. They were supplicated with my answer but were disappointed that I would not be accompanying them on their run today. I collected good wishes from them and promising to meet them by Tuesday or Wednesday, pedaled on. They set off on their run after me. The moulvi and the decorated dog were missing outside the mosque; hope to catch them on my way back.

The headstones of the Communication companies OFC cables were acting in a stand-offish manner. Their conspiracy of silence was similar to the one by suspects after they have been read out the reading out the Miranda warning and were waiting for their lawyer to come to their rescue.

I stopped at the Aavarum flower spot near KM 11 for a leisurely session of gathering with much needed rest and water break; the ladies and their dog did not make an appearance today (may have finished their walk earlier!). The bunch of farmers with their scythe and popular lubricant can with their supply of water for the day on bicycle (characters I had named contract killers in my earlier posts) crept on me from behind. To my surprise, the last of them stopped and enquired as to why I had traded a bicycle for my regular jog and asked me to stick to jogging (much like General Mush telling our Captain Dhoni to stick to his long tresses!). How wrong we are in judging people by their appearance and profession, I am reminded of a story of a butcher here, whose devotion to his profession is famed to have led him to salvation.

Though I was carrying my mobile today, I resisted taking photographs; I didn’t want to be tempted to post them and spoil the imagined versions of my characters for my readers. Nothing eventful happened further till I reached the half-way mark. The sunflower patch awaiting deliverance seemed to be giving me a guard of honour for the impending SCMM.

On the way back, I broke my promise and got tempted to take photos of the scenery. I took snaps of cotton plants bursting with bols; red chillies looking daggers from behind the cotton plants; I plucked two red-chillies to try out in the Thai recipe of noodles I saw the previous day (Program on one of the Tamil channels by my favourite anchor, Menu Rani Chellama for the cookery inclined).

Moulvi was sitting with his band of followers warming himself over a fire. I having got down from my steed on the steep climb after KM 9 was walking. He called out o me. He asked the obvious; why the cycle? ( much in the tone of Why this Kolaveri?). Satisfied with my excuse, he promised to accompany me on my run one of these days. One of his followers translated the conversation the Moulvi had with me in Hindi in the local lingo for the benefit of the audience who had gathered. He showed keen interest in the Marathon, the distance and the maximum time allowed. When I told him that the distance of 42.195 KM has to be completed in a maximum of 6 hours, he after calculating in his mind, declared to the crowd that it was doable. I told him that I would try to do a sub 4 hour marathon, he was suitably impressed.

Luckily, I met Shri Kalappa, who I found was gathering firewood on the other side of the highway; he is the shepherd keeping the organic manuring tradition going in the face of the relentless onslaught of the chemical fertilizers. Finding him not knowing either Hindi or English, I subjected him to my brand of Kannada. I could gather that they come during the harvest time for manuring and that they spend 3-4 days in each plot and are paid in cash by the farmer.

I photographed the trees lining the KM 4-5 stretch which have more flowers than leaves and present a great sight to the tired body after 25K of run; it was only my tiredness at the stage of meeting them and lack of expression which has kept them out of my narrative till now. I met the puppies at KM 3 playing with their parents (they seem have taken a day off to fare me well for my SCMM); I took their photos too! I continued clicking the self help temple, Reliance fresh sipping into its morning dose of cool drink, Mother Theresa’s statue and the small muslim place of worship near my finish point. Was it my farewell visit to this route, or, am I getting sentimental?

Except Biscuit and the Sunflowers, to whom I cannot explain my departure and the period of absence, I had taken proper leave from all my subjects. Leaving Biscuit behind is the toughest part of going out for Marathon, but, knowing that Mathew and Nirmala (couple who host Biscuit in our absence from town) take good care of him and in that they have recently taken a young Labrador pup, named him Chiku to rhyme with Biku (short for Biscuit) to keep Biscuit company, self and wife leave peacefully to Mumbai.

I completed the bicycle ride of 30 KM and the photo-shoot in 2 hours 31 minutes and 15 seconds. Look out for my next post on our experiences at Mumbai!

Of Yamanur, Yamanur and Yamanur

Usual story got up late today. New reason, was posting the previous day’s blog till midnight. 3 O’clock wake up got postponed to 4:30 in increments of 15 minutes, like late arrival announcement of an Indian Railways train. No spinning or devotional music today. Straightway I put the hot water for tea, poured hot water on green tea and let it brew. Got ready and left for Biscuit’s walk at 05:30 finally, could not resist a peek at facebook for feedback on previous day’s blog and updated status for forthcoming Mumbai marathon.

Biscuit likes to be the first and by himself while visiting the Golf course in the morning, much like the first person of the country feels about Mughal gardens. More mundanely for reasons for which I like to get up early on trains to have first use of the loo. He does not mind mixing with commoners in his evening walk. Due to the late hour today, some early bird walkers intruded on Biscuit’s sojourn and he had a tough time finding his spot. Much to our relief he finished his business and made an exit from the VVIP rest house side gate (First couple out of headquarters), reserving more thorough inspection of the grounds for the evening. Moon also could not concentrate on showing him the way what with so many walkers to guide through the thickets in the early morning darkness. Today’s morning visit was businesslike and not lingering walk of the leisurely kind he has got used to with me on leave.

On return he refused to get into the house, his way of trying to ask me to bunk the morning jog. I attacked tea for finishing my quota of hydration for the run and expected Biscuit to wear out and come in himself. He was adamant today. Having got ready to leave and not wanting to lock him out in the cold, I woke up my wife to close the door after I went out, as I expected Biscuit to get in after I left. She gave me a glare, asking me non-verbally about when I would taper for the marathon (She has been reading my peers messages on Dailymile, a site for us runners). Between Biscuit and my wife, they made me guilty about persisting with my run. How could I tell them that more than the run, it was the call of the Sunflowers and more importantly the story of Raghavendra and Shaheen!

I started the run with apprehension (whether Biscuit was giving me a sign, a ka Hachiko). Into my first KM, my stomach and nerves settled. The guards were back sleeping inside the ATM and the banks money was safe! Apart from the usual passersby of people rushing to catch morning trains, kids going to tuition and old people burning calories, today I saw three ladies walking and chatting animatedly, I could not get the subject of their heated debate, but the kolaveri exhibited in the talk left me in no doubt that the agenda item must be their MIL. They sure were releasing tension and doing a lot of good to their BP, I was not so sure of the calories burnt considering the leisurely pace.

After crossing KM2, I saw the pig family squealing together, like the famous huddle the men in blue get into when in form before taking on the opposition, before attacking the garbage bin. They could also be arguing out about where to go out for breakfast today. Little further down the road, a pig and a dog were settling their differences heatedly over who gets the first pick from the garbage bin. I left them to settle among themselves. I reached KM3 in good time and in need of a biological break, I had unwittingly intruded on a pack of Romeo dogs chasing their object of affection with gusto, clearly love was in the air. The scene was straight out of Sholay where Gabbar’s horses were giving Dhanno a run for her life. Here the lady was giving the dogs a run for their money and she definitely did not need any help from me. I pushed for the climb of the next two kilometers after the much needed break. The cleft in the trunk of the tree had the farmers travelling clothes of pant and shirt while he must have got to work in his work clothes.

Met Anup beyond his turning point and greeted the singer on his return after his calisthenics at KM7. Birds were leaving for work in hordes noisily discussing their bosses. The HT wires were busy as usual, their words speaking louder than their actions. Sai baba had got ready earlier than usual, today being his special day and he must be expecting a big crowd today.

It was already 06:45 when I crossed KM7.  I have really delayed my friends of KM8. Hope they stay on for me. I could not find either of them when I reached KM8. The water gatherers were having a noisy argument about their waitlist position. When I reached the point on the highway where the lane leading from Raghvendra and Shaheed’s house met the highway, I could see Raghavendra walking upto the highway. I was impressed with his timing. He must have been waiting for me, I felt guilty. He informed me that He and Shaheed had come up to KM8 and waited for me for 15mts and then they completed the run by themselves. I put the blame on Biscuit having overslept. I asked him if he had a mobile, so that we could synchronise our run time. Neither of us having a pen, I wrote my mobile number with a stick in the mud for him to copy and give me a missed call. The long and short of it being, no Raghavendra or Shaheed for company today, I felt low. The Sun was sulking behind clouds, not that I minded the cool weather. He was in mood to talk to me as he was jealous of the attention I have been giving to my running friends.

I must describe here a wonderful symbiotic relation which exists between shepherds and farmers. Shepherds travel with their family and bring their sheep to the fields after the crop has been harvested. The sheep are penned in the field for two to three days, where they graze on the gleanings of grain droppings and the fodder and their droppings become manure for the field. This is also the time for the shepherds to trade with the villagers and vice versa. What a wonderful and environmentally friendly practice!

I spied the 3 ladies walking down the bridge over the culvert near KM11. I wished them and for want of a topic, asked them about the missing dog in the native language. I was getting better at it. I was actually getting response. Having actively practiced the native spoken language since New year, I can confess that this was my New Year resolution to learn to speak Kannada. My inspiration is my hero, Gandhi, who I found out, was learning Bengali, two words a day, right up to the day of his assassination. My wife has been more adventurous with the local language, she tries it out on the maid and neighbours unflinchingly. I tell her it’s her way of getting the State for not giving due share of Cauvery waters to our home state, the neighbouring TN.

Today I did not stop for collecting flowers. I was greeted loudly by a gentleman walking briskly on the other side of the road. He looked familiar, I had seen him on and off and he invariably greets me. I decided to talk to him. I was aching for some human company. I asked him where he was coming from and upto where he intended to walk? Now, hold your breath for his answer, it surely took away mine, when he said he was going to Yamanur which was 32KM from Hubli to visit his family deity, Yamanur. He said that he makes this journey every Thursday on foot from Hubli. He returned after darshan by bus to Hubli. He started from Hubli at 05:00 AM and reached Yamanur at 10:30 AM. Now if somebody thinks I am crazy to run 30K every day, I surely have company. Now for the third Yamanur of the title today, surprise, the mysterious walker’s name was also Yamanur. He returned the favour and asked me how far I run and when I said 15K up and back, he wanted to touch my feet, I gave him a warm handshake instead. We were surely becoming a Mutual Admiration Club. I promised to accompany him next Thursday on his pilgrimage on my bicycle ( hoping I recover from the strains of Marathon by then). He told me that the deity was very powerful and that I would get a special pooja, if I mentioned his name to the pujari there. He also informed me that he worked in Gangavati textiles shop in Dajibanpeth in Hubli. My wife tells me it’s a famous textile store with good collection (dangerous territory for my purse!).  I have put in all his personal details because I have taken his consent for putting him and his deity on the World Wide Web. I told him that I will meet him on the way back after completing my 15K stretch. My growing popularity with the Kusugal villagers is giving me delusions of grandeur. I was telling my wife that if we had insufficient rains this year around, these villagers may ask me to grow a beard, wear saffron and fast a.k.a Dev Anand of Guide.

The TTSL OFC marker of the liquor bottle fame had recovered nicely. He was basking in the Sunlight and meeting the sun in the eye, no hangover. His neighbours and peers seemed to have taken him back to their fold. They did not see his one off indiscretion as too serious. The speculators plot was getting some more barbed wire for standing out as a sore thumb amongst hard working neighbours. Between this and that, I had sneaked in on the Sunflower patch. The plants had now started falling under the weight of their pods, in large numbers. I could not find the flower who had reached the footpath and whose seeds I had taken to grow at home. I hope it was able to go back to its family. I shall go over this stretch on my way back more thoroughly, I would synchronise my water break with this stretch.

I reached the half-way mark in one hour and 37 minutes, not bad after accounting for time spent in making friends with today’s protagonist, Yamanur.

I located the sunflower of yesterday lying face down in my path, I took it with the intent of giving it a decent burial at some subsequent KM stone so that I can identify its resting place. I was being sentimental. It will be difficult to run with one hand carrying water bottle and other hand carrying the sunflower the size of a Frisbee. I was feeling like a soldier who drags the dead body of his fallen brother in the front to give him a decent burial back home!

I started running with the sunflower gingerly held in my right hand. After a while I realized that there was no point in carrying it to a KM stone, I had nothing to dig with, I had to carry it home to bury it in the place among where its children would grow.

On the way back, the entire Muslim family came out to wish me, I must find out their name (they would be the next target or my Kannada). The children were in new clothes and very happy, maybe, bunking school for some family function. The mosque at KM 9 was also decorated and had large number of visitors, is it some festival or a family function. How does it matter, the children got a day off!

I am now frequently crossing bands of men carrying scythe and a huge lubricant plastic can for water on bicycles. They look like contract killers who slay crops for a price. Patch after patch of crops was being slayed and crops stacked as corpses. When will they come to deliver the Sunflower patch?

Huge stretches of marigold were giving a colorful look, giving a message that there is more to life than bread alone! I have now started crossing a number of cyclists in tracksuits with fancy water bottles, the exercise bug is surely catching on. The bus of Sanskar kids crossed me before KM 8 itself today. A batch of Ayyapa devotees had parked near the Sai baba temple and were about to start again after completing ablutions and performing pooja to the portrait of lord Ayyappa perched on the fender of their vehicle.

The sunflower in the hand was really becoming a drag, not allowing the free swing of the arm. Today I realized how much we run with our arms. The Sanskar kids were listening to their colleague rendering morning news. The item I could hear getting favourable wind direction was about need for environment protection, I was tempted to share with them the video of ‘Why this Koila mining’ set to ‘Kolaveri song.

The puppies were having a day out in the sun near the speed breaker at the police check post at the HDMC limit board. Mother must have gone prospecting for their lunch. The puppies were safe with the guardians of law at hand and the vehicles on the highway reducing speed there for negotiating the speed breaker. The dog and the pig was lazing on their side of the LoC. They must have settled their difference amicably, there was no need for an UN intervention.

The lady calling the slaves of Mammon to Navratan jewelers wore a sheepish grin, she had realized the futility of trying to play temptress with my credit card. She was not unduly bothered, she was sure to get enough faithful to meet her sales target. A bunch of loudly cheering daily wagers on a tractor trolley who see me daily greeted me cheerily, breaking the spell of the Navratan lady.

The run was accomplished in 3 hours 16 minutes and 27 seconds. No run tomorrow, will come back with my edition containing the trip to the Mecca of Marathon in India, the Mumbai marathon. Wish me and my muse luck!

Of Raghavendra and Shaheed…

Inspection of the Golf course by Biscuit was very thorough today. Neighbour’s cat was sent scurrying when it tried to get friendly. The VVIP guest house minus the VVIP and RPF escorts gave a deserted look, lighting was toned down suitably, Moon was not feeling threatened by the earthly luminaries today. I set off for the run with 400ml of plain water in a Minute Maid bottle in hand and tea leaves and dried gooseberry tucked in mouth.

I reached the gate of the colony almost completing the perfunctory stretches on the walk. I put on the head band and reset the stop watch and set it ticking and eased into a slow run after crossing the road. The street lights on the road were off while the colony street lights were on, maybe, the electrical staff was late today or the Electrical department must be ahead of the conservation target for the month.

Mother Theresa was looking down from across the compound wall benignly; she seemed to have forgiven the vandals their act of indiscretion of last Christmas day. The local administration which had posted a posse of policemen in a riot van since the incident has now reduced the police presence to a few men. They were warming themselves by a fire made of paper waste. What an irony, the statue of the lady who shunned all fanfare and was said to have had a worldly possession of only two saris including the one she was wearing, has to be guarded by a posse of policemen. Thankfully, the father of the nation at his ashram at Sabarmati is spared this ignominy so far! To top it all we hear the State is planning to impart religious instruction in Bhagwad Gita to school children, is this what is called the Devil quoting the scriptures?

The ATM’s were deserted; the guards must have found a warmer place for the night, trusting the meager balance not to be attractive enough to attract thieves in this cold night. The Reliance fresh outlet was aglow in bright light and abuzz with activity, the headstone of RCIL of the younger brother seemed to glare from across the street emphasizing the break in communication between the sons of the first family of commercial enterprises in India, despite the recent get together at their family home.

Seeing a vehicle with bright lights parked at KM 3, I decided to postpone my biological break to till a little farther down the road. My singer friend was not to be seen today. I completed the climb upto KM 5 without much ado after a break in between KM 3 and 4. A bird was trying to render Morning Raaga above the din created by the static on the HT wire. I started looking out for the elusive new found friend, Anup. Just as I crossed the lonely tree before KM 7 (which I have now onwards named Anup point since this is his turning point), I saw a heavily dressed figure walking from the opposite direction. I wished him calling out his name and was reciprocated warmly.

Now for the straight killer stretch from KM6 to 8. I was eagerly scanning the horizon for Raghavendra and Shaheed. Neither of them was there at their usual spot at KM8. Just as I turned on the culvert I could see a row of thirsty colourful plastic pots sitting bumper to bumper. Only a few at the top of the line had their owners present, others were loitering around catching up the latest on politics, weather etc. My friends Raghavendra and Shaheed were waiting patiently, their sight lifted my heart. Raghavendra was back in his shoes. He said they were late today so they decided to catch me near their house itself. They wanted to accompany me as far as they could. I cautioned that they should turn back when they have enough gas to reach their home. I carried on with Shaheed from where I had left off yesterday. He was unusually silent today, maybe, in deference to his senior. I asked Shaheed if he knows how to operate a computer, to which he replied I the affirmative. I asked if he was on facebook, both feigned ignorance, maybe, I was expecting too much. I told Shaheed that with computer we could communicate with people around the world instantly. I informed that his story I got yesterday has already been shared with my friends across the country and that they wanted to know more about him. I told them that if people do not believe that they exist in reality, I would post their photo on the computer. Raghavendra said that he would love the publicity but only after he clears the exam. I asked Raghavendra if Hindus and Muslims are friends and he said that the relations are very cordial in their village (Kusugal). I joked with him that I that case he will be out of job after becoming a constable.

I ribbed Shaheed about his wanting to become engineer just for money, I told him to approach each subject with an open mind and the choice will be made automatically. Raghavendra asked me if I was a big man, I didn’t know what to say. I told him I make enough money for my family and some to spare and that I have a decent house and a loving family and asked him if that made a big man by his definition? I told them the story of how Obama (they both knew him) on visiting the room where Gandhi stayed (both knew him also) commented on how a man who had the whole country at his command and brought the mighty British to their heel lived with so few a physical possessions.  The idea was to impress that big or powerful is not necessarily having more! I hope I did not lay it too thick and that they would come back for more tomorrow. We crossed KM 10 to curious looks from onlookers. I know we must be making a funny trio ranging from 50 to 13, running and making animated conversation. I asked Shaheed the meaning of his name, he didn’t know and made up saying that it appears in an ayath. Let me see if he finds out and tells me tomorrow. They started panting when we approached the culvert before KM 11 and decided to turn back. I bid them bye and promised to see that tomorrow. No ladies to welcome me at KM 11, the Sun was sulking having been neglected in my preoccupation with my friends.

I had reached KM 11 in 58 mts, and that’s a fair clip. I decided to take a break to pluck some medicinal flowers, ‘Aavarum poo’ (poo for flower in Tamil), which grows in the wild near KM 11. These are a thorny bush with bright yellow flowers. Let me tell you how we discovered this flower: We were told that dried flowers of this plant soaked overnight in water and the water had in the morning after squeezing out the flowers was very good for controlling Diabetes. We had bought 50 g of these for Rs. 100/-, later we found that the same were available at Rs. 50/- for 250g at Chennai and finally we saw them growing in the wild in great abundance all along the road to Badami. My wife, Mohan Menon, a batch mate of mine and yours truly had in fact collected a polythene cover full of them on our way back from Badami. These plants were about 25 KM from Hubli on the highway (NH-218) I take my morning run on. I also tried bringing some small plants for growing in our garden, they didn’t survive.  I discovered these plants at KM 11 and onwards in the last few days. Nature may have been insidiously pushing this natural medicine to counter the Diabetes menace in our city. I usually pluck a few petals of this flower and add them to my diminishing cud of green tea leaves for me to chew on, on the way back. Today I had brought a small plastic cover for collecting some to confirm with wife that they were indeed ‘Aavarum Poo’ and to preserve some for my Mumbai marathon on the coming Sunday. I lost or may I say invested 5 minutes in this venture. I didn’t stop my watch during this time out.

The fields on both the sides showed a lot of wheat and the native Jowar and Maize were valiantly trying to hang on to their shrinking vote bank. It is imperialism of a different kind. We must propagate the goodness of these coarse grains. One more interesting observation on Jowar and Maize, while jowar carries its grain in full view on the end of the stalk, the Maize has a decorative plume at the end of the stalk while the real cob grows unobtrusively from the side. Much like a lady wearing imitation jewellery on the visible parts and hides the Mangalsutra under the folds of her pallu.

The Mc Dowell bottle was missing from its perch on the TTSL OFC headstone. The OFC marker was looking inconsolable. The tenacity shown by the bottle was almost Annaesque, finally it relented and quit. Surely, the headstone will feel liberated once it got over the hangover. The fallen RCIL OFC marker next to it lying low since the New Year day was overdoing its overworked stunt even if the information overload of New year greetings were a little on the high side. Time it stopped malingering and started communicating. The younger Ambani can ill afford loss of share in the face of aggressive Mittal.

The Sunflowers as feared were still standing as if in Tapasya for the elusive boon from Lord Shiva. Meanwhile, heads continued to roll of the plants having assets disproportionate to known sources of food gathered. Sun was giving a searching look of a CBI and IT sleuth team all rolled in one. I reached the half way mark in 1 hour and 37 mts ( same as yesterday after discounting 5 minutes of flower gathering).

On the way back, I saw what looked like a honey comb of the size of a big size Uttapam on my path near the sunflower patch. Seeing no tree or perch from where a honey comb could have fallen, I stopped to inspect gingerly with my foot. When I turned it around, it was a sunflower minus the stalk. It looked as if an angry demon had decapitated a plant and the head had fallen this far. I picked it up and finding that the mother cannot be saved, removed a fist full of seeds for saving the progeny. Much like the Knights o yore used to carry the locks of their beloved in a locket around their neck. I will go and plant this in my garden as remembrance. After coming about half a KM, I remembered that I had forgotten to give the mother a decent burial. I did not have the energy to go back, it will have to survive today and wait for my visit tomorrow.

I met Raghavendra minus his heavy woolen and cap riding a bike with a pillion carrying a bundle of cornstalks at KM 9. I recognized him when he came closer and wished me. This was, maybe, his routine before going to spare parts shop in cotton market where he worked for a living. The moulvi gave me a smile o his way back from the tea shop. Having provided chicken soup for the souls, he may have felt the need for a cuppa of the cup that cheers for himself. The red ripening chillis and the green leaves persisting to hang on created a good mosaic in the chilli field. The scare crow was standing bored and unkempt with straw peeking out of his turban. The two bullocks were standing with yoke on as if they were given an imposition and that they would receive no mid morning refreshment today. The farmer was nowhere in sight.

The killer stretch from KM 8 to 7 was gone through in a grind with two breaks. A van load of children screamed for me as the van crossed me just before the temple. Either they had an extra class or I was late. I checked my watch, I was on target but for about 10 minutes of diversions with the fallen sunflower and the Aavarum Poo.

I saw the gentleman who was offering namaskar to Sun god at 9 AM yesterday repeating the offence again. The Sun was not amused and glared at him. He did not seem to bother; he seems to habitually apply with late fee. Met with a youngster with a back pack on bike. He has been greeting me for the last few days, must find out his name tomorrow.

Gandhigiri with the drivers has been reasonably been successful barring a few sand lorry drivers and a few other RTC buses who believe in getting you off the road and exult in it. Some of the vehicle numbers are becoming familiar. Like the one with 8085 (the microprocessor based on which UPTRON made its first indigenous data entry machine), I must remember more with some associations. I must digress here to talk of Ramanujam (famed as the man who knew infinity), he is said to have told the British mathematician, Hardy , on being told that Hardy’s taxi number was 1729 and boring, that the number was the smallest number which can be expressed as a sum of cubes of two pairs of numbers( to wit 1, 12 and 10,9). Since he came from the same village from where my ancestors come, I should try my number crunching skills a bit more.

Today I met two cyclists with water bottle in their carrier coming up to KM 10. May this movement grow and flourish. I reached KM 2 and now the toughest part, when my defenses are so low, the smiling lady fully laden with jewellery beckons every day from a big billboard to a shop on Kopikkar Road, reminding me of the approaching marriage anniversary. Little does she know that by the time I have had a cold water bath, fortified myself with breakfast and checked the bullion rates of the previous day in the Newspaper, the Accountant in me is easily able to nullify all the charm of the smiling assassin. She has no chance of snaring me into this trick.

My run lasted 3 hours 21 minutes and 15 seconds.

The Saga of the Sun and the Sunflowers … contd.

Today Biscuit did not wake up till 04:45 AM. The publicity on the web seems to have got to him. To be fair to him, the weather was very cold today and it was pitch dark even when we got out at 05:00AM. Moon on its wane after reaching full size yesterday was fighting a losing battle with the forces of darkness and the stars contributed their mite for what it was worth. Biscuit took his morning walk with alacrity conscious that his delay would mean my running in the sun.

Today I added a spoonful of dried gooseberry (Amla) to my quota of used green tea leaves for chewing cud while running. It sure was contributing to increased salivation. The street lights were switched off as soon as I started the run, as if in the precarious power situation the State was in, expecting street lights beyond 06:15 AM, however dark the night was being greedy. The roadside prayer place at Keshwapur cross was spreading the incense of smell. While I crossed the re-consecrated statue of Mother Theresa standing on a pedestal in the compound of St. Mary’s school, I was reminded of the hatred certain fringe elements poured over her statue previous Christmas. It would take more than Shaheed and Raghavendra running together to keep the secular fabric intact. The competitor dairyman neighbor of my dairy vend was busy setting up shop, he was also late today.

Few people were up and about, some to tuitions, others to catch morning train to work and the others still of the elite morning walkers who need to walk to burn their indulgence of previous day. I was thankful for the few vehicles from the opposite side as they lit up the road for me to warn me of the potholes and ubiquitous speed-breakers (the new status symbols). I crossed the devotee who was in the process of appeasing the roadside self-help temple with his own mix of rituals. I now reached the first gates of Madura colony after crossing a few ATM’s where the guards had taken refuge inside for shelter and warmth. The Pig family members had each taken a plastic cover of their choice of take-away and were enthusiastically tearing into their order. They were making sure that the municipal workers would have enough work when they turn up later.

The Sun seemed to be on-time and clear skies ensured that lightening of the eastern horizon made the way clear by the time I reached the KM 3 mark of municipal limits. My singer friend, having given us a song the previous day, was coming down vigorously swinging his arms to keep himself warm. I asked him in local language as to why he was not singing today. I am sure that I could request songs very soon, if our familiarity keeps growing at the present rate. I emptied my tank and took a deep breath and prepared to attack the next two kilometers of climb. The HT poles were making a lot of fuss of carrying power to people downstream. The crow sitting on the HT cable was not impressed. The all night petrol bunk’s claim of being all night was not tested today, it wore a deserted look.

I eased into the level stretch leading up to the temple keeping  my eyes skinned for the mysterious jogger in track dress of day before yesterday. Just as I had just given up on him, I saw the jogger, heavily clothed for the cool weather of today, walking towards me from the opposite side. He seemed to have taken my advice of running against the flow of traffic. I asked him his name and was informed that it was Anup. He works for a private company and he has been in Hubli for the last two years and that he has been running for the past week. He could not come yesterday because of some work. I must thank my employer, Indian Railways, for allowing me the luxury of running every day. We parted promising to meet again. Sorry, about the whole build up of apparition of my yesterday’s narrative having to be broken on the altar of reality. Busy with Anup, I missed wishing Sai baba, shall have to make amends on the way back.

I now kept my eyes skinned for my young friends who should be waiting at KM 8. At a distance (the stretch from KM 7 to 8 is very straight and that’s what makes it so boring) I could spy only the younger form of Shaheed, Is Raghavendra taking a biological break nearby? Shaheed gave me a smart salute and I reciprocated with a warm greeting. I asked him about the missing Raghavendra, he told me about him being held up on some work. Shaheed suitably reduced his stride so as not to stretch me. We had free-wheeling discussions about his school, his hobbies, favorite subjects and what he wanted to become. Though he liked Hindi, English and Urdu, he wanted to become an engineer to make lots of money. I asked him if he knew the best engineering college of the country, if he has seen the movie 3-idiots. He named some college in Bangalore where his senior from school has gone. I educated him about IIT and that he should do well in Maths to be able to do justice to Engineering education. Having found out that he helps his father in the fields, I asked him about what they grow and educated myself about the crops on the either side we were crossing. He said something excitedly pointing to a man pushing a trolley with a lot of plastic pots carrying water. Coming closer, I recognized the driver to be Raghavendra. He said that there was no water at home and he could not come to run today as he had to fetch water instead. I bid farewell to Shaheed and Raghavendra and inched closer to the 10KM mark.

I could see a lot of wheat fields with marigolds interspersed. They make a pleasing sight. While it may make economic sense to grow wheat to coarse grains like Ragi and Jowar, it also meant reducing cover for the local staple grains. Let me digress here to narrate the goodness of the coarse grains. I frequently go to Railway hospital for blood test for measuring sugar level for her to see if it was in check. There is room full of people waiting to donate blood for the same purpose there. Talking to the Medical officer colleague there, i was told that all the people there were Andhra and TN migrants and there is zero incidence of Diabetes in the local population. He stated that it was because of the diet of Jowar on which they sustain. It also came to light that the women do not suffer from osteoporosis because Ragi is rich in Iron and Calcium. It is sad to see that the local good will be overtaken by commercial consideration. There is lot of sense in expanding PDS to procure local grains and supply the same to the local population. It will give a boost to cultivating of the local grains. Let us celebrate differences.

Approaching the bridge on the culvert near KM 11, I could see 4 ladies returning from their walk, they were escorted by their local dog. They kept shushing him, but, he wanted to prove his worth. He growled and I stopped to show that I was not afraid of him. We exchanged greetings (me and ladies, I mean) and the dog walked off disinterestedly. I am sure he will come back to fight another day.

The sun was nice and warm and the climb to KM 12 had to be started without the usual biological break at KM 11 because of the fair company. I decided to combine the water and biological break between KM 12 and 13 on the bend. This was turning out to be good for I had run without a single break after KM 3.  The liquor bottle was standing proudly trying to stare down the Sun in its drunken bravado.

The sand Lorries continued to feed off the plunder somewhere in the interior. Hope, the authorities wake up soon before it is too late. Onion laden tractors and trucks gave an assurance that they have done their bit in bringing down food inflation and reduced head-aches for RBI and the finance minister. Maize laden Lorries also added to the traffic, and the crows dotting either side of the highway feeding of the spilled grains seemed to say that in these hard times we cannot afford to waste a single grain.

While it was a pleasure to see my sunflower patch, now, I got depressed when I saw them still standing desolate and sad. I wish it was not the case of the farmer having deserted them and they would be put out of agony soon. The maize patch right at KM 15 had grown to full height and their plume swaying in the wind inviting me to play ‘Love-me, Love-me-not’. The beautiful thing in Maize is that while the plume keeps our attention to the, unnoticed the cob grows, two sometimes on the side. They look like Quick-Gun Murugan ready to take on the Non-vegetarians. I had reached the half –way mark in 1hour and 32 minutes.

On the way back, I saw a lot of cotton bolls lying. Taking a lesson from the crows, I picked a few and stuffed it into my pocket to try out on my spinning wheel. I am sure Gandhiji would approve this backward integration effort of his disciple. Let me also see if I can plant the seeds in my garden and get a crop of cotton.

The bullock beyond KM 9 were taking a doze in the sun after a quick breakfast. The buffaloes were feeding under the thatched roof. The on-duty bullocks were feeding with their harness on next to the chilli patch. I was relieved as I did not see Raghavendra waiting to challenge me with his fresh pair of legs to run with him till KM 8. I took a long water break on the up from the masjid gate. This break and the cotton gathering must have spoiled my average. The maize patch had sprouted green shoots and mother earth was exulting in the joy of creation.

I now entered the toughest part of my run till I reach municipal limits to engage with the school kids. I reached KM 3 mark after one more break and three sips of water. A van load of cheering children crossed from behind; must be richer cousins of Shaheed. For, Shaheed had told me that he comes in city bus and attends second shift school. Steady procession of autos and school vans kept me interested in running without a walking break. The children of SBI school before Madhura colony were taking an impromptu games period before the school assembly.

I completed my run at a decent 3hour 12 minutes and 49 seconds.

The Saga of the Sun and the Sunflowers … contd.

Back to the original thread of the Sun and the Sunflower; let me take off from my today’s run first. I shall post from my earlier notes separately, or, if time not permitting, weave the incidents and thoughts from my missed post runs in my later blogs.

Full moon was at its full radiance, looked fresh even at the fag end of its night duty. There was a nip in the air today. Previous days festoon of flowers had not yet been removed from the Muslim wayside shrine, I moved on after mumbling my silent prayer for a good run. The dairy where my servant help gets our quota of Dhoni’s elixir was setting shop for the day. He waved me on.

Even the entire moon’s brightness could not conquer the forces of darkness on the stretch between KM 1 and 2. There are these self help temples alongside the road which much alike the small self-service darshini’s dotting the state provide soup for the soul without even the priest not coming between the devotee and the god. Well bathed and groomed gent was just about finishing after supplicating the god with incense and perambulations. I moved on as I did not want to eavesdrop on his wish-list for the day. Sales persons were busy working behind closed doors of Reliance Fresh creating order among fruits and vegetables so that the crowd could come and play havoc once the shop is opened for business.

I was feeling good in my legs and crossed the municipal limits without breaking a sweat. I prepared for the climb of KM 4 and 5 while the moon quietly dipped down prepared to call it a night. It seems to be lingering on to make sure that its reliever Sun does come on the appointed hour. The sky was lighting up on the eastern horizon announcing the arrival of the lord of the day. I could hear my carnatic music lover singing in his full throated voice and walking down in his characteristic swagger unmindful of the lorry traffic on the highway. He stopped his rendering to wish me ‘Good morning’ when he passed me, I replied ‘Namaskara’ in my best local rendition.

 Yesterday I had met a youngster in track-suit running on the wrong side between KM 5-6. I had picked up a conversation with him and also given him unsolicited advice to run in the face of approaching traffic to avoid being run over. He had told me that he had been running for over a week now and that we would be seeing each other. I eagerly looked ahead to meet him. Not meeting him even after crossing KM 7, I started doubting if I had indeed met him yesterday. Mystery will clear in next few days, was it really a human being or some divine apparition visiting me.  I know running is like meditation, but, to meet my maker’s representative so soon!

I will build in the story of Raghavendra and Shaheed here. Raghavendra is a 23 year old boy of the local village who is practicing to run 5 Kilometer in 25 minutes to qualify for the Constables recruitment scheduled next month in Bangalore. He had been observing me running regularly and stopped me a few days back to get tips about running; he was very curious about the liquid I was carrying in the bottle on my run. He was disappointed to be told that it was only plain water and not Druid Getafix’s magic potion. Having gathered my age and that I was not from Army he had satisfied his initial curiosity and meets me at KM 8 to accompany me on the run till his house which takes off from the highway half way between KM 9 and 10. He was wearing shoes on the first day and took basic tips on whether to drink water before a run, reason for pain in the calf etc., yesterday, I had found him at the KM 8 mark barefoot, saying that he is finding it more comfortable to run in his bare feet. I confessed to him that I am also training to go barefoot, but, advised him to check the venue of his test to see if it is safe to run barefoot there. Shaheed his companion is 14 year old and studies in standard 8^th. He has a natural style and runs without losing his breath or breaking a sweat. Today after finding out my place of residence and taking me to be a senior government official ventured to ask if I could help him get selected. I told him the story of the RPF guard who used to wish me every day when I went to my office and how he had once reached my house asked if I could help his nephew get selected to a class IV job for which he has qualified the physical test. I gave him a big lecture on why his nephew should not start his life on a wrong foundation and that I would not do anything even if I could help him. After a month, the RPF guard came with his nephew with a box of sweet to say that he has got selected. I asked him, if he regretted for having tried influence and how he would have felt if some person with influence could have snatched his nephew’s honest success. To cut the long story short, Raghavendra was suitably chastised. Today he shared his family background about how his father is a waster and life has looked up after his brother became an LIC agent. I wished him all the best for his preparation for the physical and the written exam to be held 3 months later for qualifiers from the physical test. Shaheed, has 2 younger brothers and a sister and has a diligent father. He is good in studies and runs for fun. I bid them bye after refusing Raghavendra’s offer of a cup of tea at his house. I told him that I will come to his house and take a treat after he clears his exam. On a deeper level, the thought of running flanked by Raghavendra and Shaheed makes you feel good that ‘All is Well’ on the communal harmony front, despite what political propaganda may say.

The moon had now sunk and the sun peeped out on the eastern horizon. It was as if the moon and sun were playing on a giant see-saw and the moon having fallen off the sun was thrown up. The sun looked flushed and perspiring by the very effort of having come out to meet the world. Today the Urdu school’s door was open as if to open it to modern ideas and ward off the accusations of obscurantism. My friends were busy receiving instruction, so no welcoming smile.

I reached the sunflower patch and was depressed to see that the plants with leaves dried and falling stood like old people dressed in rags, uncared for by their wards. More plants had lost their head, as if, they had paid the price of Baba Ramdev’s prescription for possessing assets disproportionate to their known sources of income. But, the patch of young sunflower plants just behind this patch seemed to personify the cycle of birth growth and death and I definitely would not grieve when these older plants fall to the scythe of the farmer in due course. I had reached the half-way mark in one hour 32 minutes.

I have been noticing since last two days that some fun loving tippler had left an empty bottle of foreign liquor standing on the headstone of TTSL OFC. To me it looked like a symbol of Tata’s celebrating the change of guard from Ratan Tata to Mistry!

On the way back, I spied a fully grown patch of chillies, which seemed to have come up without my noticing. The green leaves and red ripe chillies looked like a good sari design in the glinting sun. The scare crow in the chilli plot seemed to say that even the hot chillies have their quota of pests.

The number of vehicle drivers wishing me and some using special sequence of horns to greet has become an interesting side-light to the run. Today, being a Monday, I had my full of wishes from school van drivers and their wards. I completed the run in 3 hours 15 minutes and 10 seconds.

The Saga of Biscuit!

This is my narrative of my run of the 7^th January. The regular followers of my post would have noticed and must be curious about the change in the title. Biscuit (my four year old Labrador for the uninitiated!) has become jealous of the humble sunflower and is grudging them the footage they are getting in my posts and wants his rightful place in the narrative. He probably feels, he deserves more for his early morning wake up calls sojourns with me, before my early morning runs. So, today let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start!

Our day, Biscuit’s and mine, usually starts at 3 AM. Between Biscuit and my alarm on the mobile they ensure that I am up at the usual time. Biscuit catches up some more winks while I complete my morning rituals, set the kettle going for hot water for green tea and soak Daliya for breakfast. He joins me in the Hall and lazes on the sofa keeping an eye on me while I hydrate myself for the long run with green tea. The TV plays old hindi songs on Active music channel of TaTasky initially and is switched to Active Darshan in time for the Bhupali at 04:15 AM. I spin on the spinning wheel while listening to TV and consuming green tea. Today I spun 164m of yarn; spinning is like meditation and generally indicates the way the day would go. On a day when I am at peace with myself, the thread does not break and comes out evenly. Biscuit meanwhile takes a round of the house and ensures that all is well. The Bhupali ends at 04:22 and is a signal for me to stop spinning. Biscuit hears the snapping shut of the spinning wheel case and rushes to my side knowing that it’s now time for him to take me for a walk. By now mostly the usual quota of Green tea has been ingested, however, as was today, about two cups were left. I left it for finishing after my walk. I change into my walking jeans and take out the garbage bag for dropping at the garbage bin on my way to walk.

Biscuit and I set out for a walk after locking the door from outside, unlocking the main gate. Biscuit is now in his elements, leading me to his favourite trees and lamp posts for urination and in between rubbing against my legs for approval. The guard at the main gate has just opened one gate and is preparing to take his last round of the colony to assure the sleeping residents that ‘All is Well’. Our walk is mostly in the Golf course inside the colony, but, the main gate to the golf course opens only at 06:00. We take a side gate, and after emptying the garbage into the municipal dump, start our walk. Biscuit takes the lead and inspects each spot to know what transpired since his inspection the previous evening. I cannot but admire his enthusiasm and thoroughness is inspecting the same favourite spots twice a day, and having inspected applying his seal of approval with an ample sprinkling of his pee. Maybe, it’s his way of reclaiming what would have been claimed by his quadruped friends in the intervening period of his two visits. It is pitch dark and he sure-footedly negotiates the trail led by his acute sense of smell. He tries to interest me in his discoveries and must be taking me for a philistine for not getting excited with his seminal discoveries.  With the discipline of a professional golf ball chaser, he avoids walking on the greens, even though there is nobody else to enforce the ‘Do not walk on the greens’ sign and he surely cannot read it. He carefully chooses a spot to poop, there is a method in his search; he alternates between a few chosen spots and follows an eco-friendly way of disposal by spreading dirt over after finishing the act. A lesson for the higher order mammals, I encounter on my run; who dirty the footpath along the highway. Having completed the purpose of his morning walk, he takes a few minutes to roll in the grass and fully refreshed, purposefully leads me back home. We meet our regular band of early morning walkers on our way back. After removing the lock from the main gate, washing the plastic cover for replacing on the garbage bucket the next day, I let him in. He promptly goes and snuggles next to my wife on the space vacated earlier by me. He knows he can take a 15 minute nap, till I finish the remaining tea, change into my running gear, fill up my water bottle and start for the run. He comes to the main door and lets me lock him in from outside. Surely with so much of active contribution to the preparation for my morning run, he was right in claiming his due footage on the World Wide Web. I will separately post my run experience of today.

The Saga of the Sun and the Sunflower… Contd..

The following is the first of my delayed accounts, the run on the 31^st.

I was feeling very low after the DNF run yesterday. Having set out to do a 30K, limping to 22K was ignominious. Biscuit could sense the tension as I led him through the morning walk silently. He on his part went through his morning ritual without much fuss. I set out for my run with my fingers and toes crossed, after leaving him home.

I did not uncross either the fingers or toes till I effortlessly crossed Reliance Fresh at 1K without breaking sweat. The Sun came out at 3K, the point where the rural-urban divide is, i.e., the Hubli Dharwad Municipal Corporation limit. I was forced to take my first break here for biological reasons, wages of quick hydration without leaving enough time for the kidneys to expel. Sun was covered by a wide patch of cloud as if an artist had made a wide stroke with an angry brush. Sun must have realized that the need of the hour was light and not heat, very considerate of him, on my comeback trail. Sun did come out for a moment, a big ball of crimson red. Now I can appreciate why Bala-Hanuman would have flown to the morning Sun, thinking it to be a juicy fruit. Any child who has not been dinned in about his limitations by elders would have done the same.

I had a minor diversion on my climb between KM 3 and 4. A band of 3-4 eagles were circling over my head. Did I recognize my friend from KM 12, searching for me with the assistance of local guides? Or, was I over-reacting, it could be just a bunch of eagles, like their dreaded cousins vultures, foreboding death. My thought went back to the young office staff of ours’ who’s on ventilator at the Railway Hospital after suffering from a brain hemorrhage, God grant him long life. Suddenly, one of the eagles broke out from the group and steered ahead like a detached Marathon pacer. Instead of accompanying me constantly, confident of my speed and strength today, paid me visits all along the route at intervals.

Intent on the antics of the eagle, I had effortless done the climb after KM 3 and was now passing the Sai-Baba temple. On my left, now appeared the place where the maize patch used to be. The pump-set was flooding the parched land. It was not clear if it was a case of pre-nuptial wooing or the case of indulging the palate of a newly pregnant wife. However, the excess of water flooding looked like a case of trying to drown the incalcitrant weeds; much like George Bush’s authorized lackeys subjecting the terror suspects to water-boarding. I had to take my second biological break at KM8, still no water intake; maybe, my 400ml bottle may last me my distance of 30K, after all.

I crossed Renuka hotel nearing KM9, proudly announcing Tea, Coffee and Cold drinks, didn’t seem to attract any customers though. I noticed the brother-sister duo coming in the opposite direction walking to their morning Urdu class, the boy wore a broad smile, emboldened, I crossed the road and offered him to shake his hands. He shied away at this overt show of friendship in presence of elders of the village standing around. One of the elders encouraged him and he reciprocated my shake hands. I carried the big smile as I crossed back to the opposite side to resume my run. Two of the ladies of the trio, caught the remnant of smile on my face and the infection seemed to spread. I acknowledged them and ran along.

Midway between KM 11 and 12, my watch showed that I had run for 1 hour 2 minutes from the start, good steady pace and no pains or body parts creaking, I touched my head, touch wood. I could hear the persistent beating of hooves of the bullocks behind me, much like a runner behind me preparing to overtake me. My natural instinct made me quicken my pace; I lead the bullocks till the bridge at KM 11. The twin bullock powered, empty cart came abreast of me. The bullock next to me exchanged glances without breaking a stride, envying my, self motivated run to their whip driven one. The efficacy of the whip over self motivation seemed to be the judgment in kaliyuga, at least in the short run! I doggedly kept on not conceding much lead, in the faint hope of catching up if the farmer decided to take a water break for his mounts at the canal at KM 14.

The Sun faced me square as I crossed the bridge just before KM 11. It seemed to congratulate me on my strongly crossing the distance of the previous day’s curtailed run. I took a water break more as a celebration than actual biological need for the same. The bullocks meanwhile put in little more lead. The mild climb at the KM11-12 stretch gave me some hope of narrowing the gap.

The Onion field on the left looked like an arrogant teenager with spiked hair. The few grown up plants on the edges with drooping and yellowed leaves seemed to advice caution to their younger friends, about the ephemrality of youth and looks.  The fenced plot at KM 13 had some broken metal dumped, was it that the owner wanted to settle away from the rough n tumble of city life and, I have been prematurely branding him a speculator? Let us wait and watch. Further ahead I crossed a stranded truck, looking closely, it was only a flat tyre, much like an injured cricket player calling for a Relispray, the damage not requiring the batsman to retire hurt or call for a runner.

I looked ahead with the fond hope to see if my competitor bullock cart had decided to take a water break at the canal visible now. No luck, the cart pushed on relentlessly, I resigned to come an honourable second. Intent on the duel with the bullock cart, I had been able to negotiate the difficult stretch from KM 11 easily today.  Sunflower patch could be made out at a distance.

Younger sunflower plants waved wildly seeking kudos for having looked after their elderly neighbours. The older sunflower plants stood stoically with heads bowed, few flowers had fallen, the stalks unable to bear the weight of the seed filled centre. The entire patch looked like Bhishma pitamah, the grand sire of Mahabharata, lying on his bed of arrows, watching the battle between the Sun and the younger sunflowers around. They seemed to possess the power to decide their time of death. I had reached the half way mark in 1 hour and 29 minutes.

On the way back, the injured truck at KM 13 had gone on after attending to the minor problem of a flat tyre, leaving behind a spill of oil as its mark of having stopped there. The drivers of sand laden lorries were out in large numbers and drove in a frenzy, as if they wanted to complete the plunder before the year ended.

I crossed the Masjid, it was always a nice moment, as this point meant a minor landmark of completion of a half marathon distance from the start of the run. The injured dog was showing its missing ear with the pride of a Kargil amputee. I did not walk the steep climb in front of the masjid, maybe, I wanted to avenge the ignominy of the reduced run of the previous day.

Row of bullocks were busy feeding, much like, the fielding side in a drinks break at a cricket match. Further down, two bullocks with their necks in harness, were feeding on, much like batsmen with pads on taking a break separately not wanting to share the secret recipe of the energy drink with the fielding side. The disinterested farmer looked on like the on-field umpire waiting for the break to end so that the work could start again.

Warming up to the analogy of cricket, the stretch of KM 8 and 7 dragged on like the boring middle overs of a one day match. The Sun going behind the clouds and a gentle breeze helped in surviving the ordeal. The severe looking electric poles at KM 5 were busy conducting High Tension electricity. The plants in the field below were suitably impressed. A pair of crows were sitting on the HT wire and nonchalantly gossiping like sisters on an annual vacation before the families woke up to drag them to their work.

The gentle slope from KM 5 to 4 and a marked one from KM 4 to 3 was akin to the batting powerplay before one reaches the slog overs of the last 3 kilometers. The plastic waste from the city was rubbing shoulders with the manure heap of the fields. The Line of Control where these met, much beyond the HDMC limit board at KM 3 indicated forcible encroachment by the wasteful ways of the city dwellers. The inert waste of the city shined vainly in the sunlight, the manure dump in contrast despite its smell nurtured wild plants even while waiting to be laid to rest in the fields.

The school van drivers and enthusiastic kids made the run bearable as usual. I got lucky today, the ‘Go Uncle’, and ‘C’mon Uncle’ boys met me in succession. Suitably charged, I plugged on to complete the remaining few kilometers. A mother and daughter duo of rag-pickers working in the garbage dump oblivious of the school going kids made a mockery of the ‘Right to Education’ claims. Maybe, the kid was getting hands on lessons in ‘right living’ from her mother. Further down, a young kid removing tarpaulin cover from the stored coconuts, preparing for the day’s business completed the report card for the RTE.

At the stretch after KM 1, after Reliance Fresh, the street side usually crowded with villagers on Saturdays to sell their fresh farm produce were conspicuous by their absence. They seemed to have thrown in their towels to the proposed FDI in retail, not sure of the sincerity of the political parties sincerity in supporting them. If not for their survival, at least to keep a check on the avarice of the big ticket players, we need to keep this conventional mode of retailing to survive as long as it can.

Closer home, I found a police jeep with an officious looking person next to driver. The continous honking to the slow traffic ahead, I am sure, was not driven by the eagerness of the public official discharge of his duty to people, but, out of the sense of importance of the red light above the vehicle. Public servants will be made to discharge duties with humility only if, public gets educated and empowered. We definitely have a long way to go!

I completed the 30K in 3 hours 10 minutes and 42 seconds. A satisfying end to the year 2011.