Death By Running

River Kaveri greeted me as I opened the curtains of the room of the resort I was staying in. A few ducks had already jumped into the water at a dim sign of the dawn. It was the perfect setting to have a lazy and relaxed day, but that was not what I had come to Shrirangpatna for. The Kaveri Trail Marathon (KTM) was scheduled to start after about an hour and a half. I left for the assembly point with my gang of enthusiastic runners.

People were flocking in, mainly from Bangalore, at the venue. We got ready for the run the moment the full-marathoners were flagged off. I had set target of reaching to the half-marathon mark (21.05 km) in less than two hours. Considering that KTM is one of the toughest races in the country, and my previous best time was 2 hours and 18 minutes, I felt that achieving the target was going to be challenging. A quote on a t-shirt of a runner provided some inspiration – I run because I can. It was almost like a stampede when race started as there were more than 300 runners running together. A cameraman barely managed to avoid the flood of the people. The runners were distributed in their respective speed groups after around 2 km. I got into my own rhythm now. For a company, I followed a few runners running ahead of me. The trail was part of Ranganthittu Bird Sanctury, and I got a glimpse of it when I spotted a solitary bird sitting on a leafless branch of a tree. Crows seemed to be in majority here and their cacophonous orchestra provided no entertainment. Occasionally one heard twitter of other birds. This is the twitter I follow – not the one on the Internet. The trail was fantastic – though difficult as the road was paved with small stones -with river Kaveri on the left side, and fields on the right. The water of the river, moving rhythmically, made pleasant sound, as if humming into your ears: Chalna hi jindagi hai, chalti hi jaa rahi hai. Water sustains life, and there was ample proof of it. The fields were clad in full green. A few ladies were washing clothes on the banks of the river. A herd of buffaloes was trying hard to get a little fair by taking bath in the water. A farmer tied both of his cows on each side of the road and I escaped somehow from getting kicked. I suppose they were furious because they did not get to see so many people frequently.

The weather was hot and humid. Though everyone likes to receive some appreciation and perform to the audience, the sun was the least wanted spectator in those conditions. The sun got bored initially with our relatively slow speed so hid behind some clouds and gave us some relief. Half way mark, we needed to take a U-turn. I was happy when I crossed 10 km sign. But the road till the turn was very steep, and it was tiring to climb up. I started walking there. I felt the distance was more than half km, the feeling which was shared by fellow runners. I gulped water after turning back. It took me an hour to reach 11 km mark. There was no one in the sight now. The faster runners had gone quite ahead, and the slower ones had remained far behind. I was a little bored and tired, but there was a long way to go so I kept running remembering Sukhwinder’s beautiful rendition: Main Chala, main chala, saath mere chale jindagi ka safar.

By the time I crossed 15 km mark, I was quite exhausted. The sun was out fully now, blazing, as if wanting to see photo-finish. Go away; this is not 100 meters sprint. All of a sudden, I started feeling cold in that scorching heat. That was dangerous because the cold signals weakness in my case. To make the matters worse, my head started spinning. It was difficult to manage two different motions – the forward movement and the movement of the head. Then came the fears. Fear of giving up. Fear of not finishing the race in 2 hours. The worst - fear of not finishing at all. After every step I wanted to stop. It became the game of will versus want. I kept dragging myself for last few kilometers. I had 11 minutes left to achieve my target and 2 km to cover. My body was a bag of iron now, and quite heavy at it. The clouds of doubts were all over. But that Sukhwinder song still played in mind - Hai dhuan hi dhuan, raasto ke nishan, har kadam par mere, haunsle hai jawan, meri manjil mujhe aa rahi hai najar. I saw the finish-line now. I started sprinting with long strides, panting heavily. The heart was jumping in the chest to get out as if I kept it hostage for years. The faces in the crowd started cheering. The final stride and I landed on the other side of the line. When I reached there, I not only cross the line, but also overcame all the fears. How many fears we live with. Fear of stepping on a stone and getting hurt. Fear of getting bitten by a dog on the way. Fear of society. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of consequences of our actions. Fear of ending on the wrong side. Fear of God! This is not to imply that I do not believe in God On the contrary I much believe in Him, but not because I am afraid of Him, but because of Him I have nothing to be afraid of. The fears are tamed. Fear no fears, friends. Go all out and pursue your passions like there is no tomorrow.

My stop-watch stopped at 1:58:41. With it I also stopped. I fell down on the ground and sat there. I felt completely giddy and exhausted and dehydrated now. A couple of people came to me asking if I was well. I requested them to get me some water. Unable to sit, I stretched myself on the ground. I do not remember when my heart skipped some beats, but after a few seconds when I woke up, I felt as if I kissed the sweet and sour death and came back. I felt no body weight. I was only aware of the conscious – and that too kept getting unconscious. After about an hour which seemed like an eternity and drinking liters of water, the life fully came back to me. That experience of near-death made me humble. How strange it is that death teaches us how to live. Think about it – a man completes half-marathon but cannot walk even 5 meters after that to bring a glass of water. I thanked all the people who helped me. Without them this blog would have died an infant’s death in the thought process itself. The KTM was a lesson in sending fears to graves, in experiencing death and escaping it. Call it death by running? Nah, I call it living by running.

It's Jungle Out There

Many joggers and runners greet us as we enter into Gandhi Krishi Vigyaan Kendra (GKVK) on the Devanhalli Airport Road. The place seems to be the favorite of early morning risers. And there are good reasons for that. If lush green trees on the both sides of the main road are any indication, this campus is no less than a forest. We park our car near the small temple. Three dogs are taking naps on the steps of the temple, unmindful of the warm-up exercises the runners are doing. It is the first time I have come to the place and I am rightly forewarned that there are many trails inside the large campus and a wrong trail may lead one running around the bushes for quite a long time! 

Within first 100 meters of our run, I realize the importance of that warning. Left or right? Which way I go? I decide to stay with other runners who know the track. After a while we leave the pukka road to follow a mud trail. The overnight drizzle has made the soil soft. We avoid jumping into small water patches on the way. The surrounding is getting denser now. Chirping of the birds make me take notice of them. We don’t care about that free music anymore. The air is fresh with the smell of rain soaked earth and green shoots. The trail becomes narrow going forward. The touch of grass and the water droplets on it sends a sensation up my body. Remember the childhood sensation of running your hands on the grass? Make no mistakes; the grass is greener on my side, or for that matter, on the every side. There are mango and chiku orchards, the sight of which makes me hungry. This is a perfect place to indulge all the five senses in. 

The trail again becomes wider now with downward gradient. I can see a Gopuram in the distance. We need to take right once we reach to the Gopuram. The road is closed there by a fallen tree. We get inside the chiku orchard to catch the road a little ahead. But what is this? It’s a massacre out there. Many trees are felled and made to bite the dust. Some lunatic has decided to make a wide tar road here. Such a mindless pursuit of urban amenity in this jungle! A crow, saddened by the death of a tree, is mourning at the root of the tree. Many birds go homeless when a senseless man sees a purpose in such a nonsense act. 

In the sudden attack of youthful exuberance, and to escape the murderous scene, I start running fast. The route is straight as far as I can see. But at certain point I have to decide which turn to take. I go right. Why? I have no idea. A dear friend says that though we think that we don’t know our soul intrinsically knows the path. It always leads us to the right path. We somehow block that sound coming from within and invite the troubles. In case the soul doesn’t know, there are other souls to guide you along the way, aren’t they? After all they are also part of the universal soul of which yours is a tiny dot. So am I on the right track? Well, it doesn’t matter at all. The soul knows. 

A Road to (and from) the Airport

Recently I happened to visit the new Bangalore International Airport thrice in a span of 10 days. That is no news but for the fact that it is more than 40 kilometers away from my home. Unlike frequent fliers mileage travelers accumulate and corresponding rewards, there are no road mileages earned on the visits to the airport. So I decided to record my experiences of those visits. I am putting them in reverse order. Surprising, you say? Not for a man who loves Urdu, starts reading the newspaper from last page, reads all the bulleted mails from bottom and for whom his friends say that his is the case similar to that of Benjamin Button. After all chronology is for our own convenience and we should not be dictated by the clock and the calendar. Here I go:

Three: It’s early morning, rather very early. I leave home at 4:30 to reach to a main road from where my friend is to pick me up. We are going to the airport to drop his mother-in-law. It’s very dark, cold and scary. None is to be found on the road. When I spot someone on the road passing by, it gives me mixed feelings of fear and safety. Paradox! A dog is a few steps away from me. I am much relieved spotting him there. Though he has a lame leg, I am more comfortable in his presence. A sound of metal striking on the road alerts me. A man is walking down the road with a stick in his one hand, but there is nothing to be worried about. He is in a yellow tunic, barefooted and having some flowers in his other hand. He is going to a temple for morning prayer. My eyes follow his path. Slowly he walks out of the scene, and the sound of the stick also dies down. There I see my friend’s car. I get inside happily. He makes me listen to crazy and funny songs on the way. Songs like Aaja meri gaadi me beth jaa. But I suppose they are a undesirable necessity to get rid of sleep. No traffic in the morning ensures we reach to the airport in 45 minutes. Once the auntie leaves, we sit outside on a bench. It’s chilly out there. Slowly sky is lit with dim light. I feel secure now, in the presence of light of dawn and a friend. We head back for home after a nice little chat.

Two: The clock strikes twelve in the afternoon. After working for a few years in Bangalore, a friend is going back to her hometown. We are almost running late for the airport. Somehow we manage to reach to the airport in time. She rushes to get the ticket from ticket counter, and then to withdraw some money from ATM. The time flies, literally, and it’s time to go. We bid her farewell and watch her disappear in the crowd. The feeling sinks in now. I am quiet than my normal self. I remember the times we had together, and think of the times we cannot have now. Farewell! Adieu!

One: It’s twilight. A friend has a connecting flight to Singapore from Bangalore. He has about three hours of spare time in between, so we decide to meet at the airport. When we meet, we have a little friendly banter. As usual he is full of energy even after traveling. We bust into laughter for almost everything on the earth. Laugh it out, laugh it loud. As it is the case with friends, we go back to past, relive the moments we shared together, remembering all that was good. We don’t forget bad things anyway. Blame it on our psychological tendency to attach greater weight to the negative outcomes. Losses always loom larger than gains. Finally here is that moment, the time to leave. Why time is asymmetrical? Why good time ends so soon and why the bad time never seems to end? Wrong questions, he would say. These ‘why’ questions are useless and futile. I still want to ask why. I wish him good luck, and in the process wish myself also for a longer time together the next time.

On my way back, I try to see the trees and houses along sides the road. They are but the ghosts, like the ghosts of the memory, like the ghosts of the past. The only clear and visible thing is the road. The road is the reality. As if it wants to say, life moves on. I smile involuntarily at sudden remembrance of Nida Fazli’s words:

ग़म हो कि ख़ुशी दोनो कुछ देर के साथी हैं,
फिर रस्ता ही रस्ता है हँसना है ना रोना है ।