the long and winding road

i love running. i don't get to do it as often as i should, but the looming guilt of a baniya paunch ( i'm skinny mind you, but it'll come - it'll turn up magically one morning, and i cant do a thing to stop it.) and the constant reminders from my mallu roommate (what a joke - he doesn't even eat rice) convince me to get re-started every few days.

and well that's one of the pleasure of staying in bandra. its beautiful - especially this time of year, with the rains and the muck and the lush green in the trees. it makes you want to get out everyday.

but the bigger question is where? in a city like bombay, where space makes you rich, i've found two respectable options:

- 1) every now and then i try one of those colony joggers parks. they're crowded with rather aged regulars (who stare at you when you lap them for the 19th time in an hour, especially when u you whisper out a "oh yeah" in motivation for round 20). Plus these parks are well hardly parks. I might have a heavy delhi bias here, but i was really surprised at how small these joggers parks are. and honestly, theyre nothing like the movie. i thought they'll be big and green, not brown, tiny and dusty. As my bombay friend says often " dude, go back to your lodhi garden if you wanna jog". haha. amen.

-2) The other approach is well the road less traveled. and for some very logical reasons. jogging on the road isn't easy - especially when its rained the previous hour, dodging muck, stray dogs, cars (who for some reason will drive "thiis" close to the puddle, daring you to jump last minute) and the riksha bhaiyas - that'll run over you without breaking a sweat, and scream out the choicest gaali without even an a hint of an acknowledgment. how rude. The only way to counter them is to do what my same bombay friend did once - pretend to be marathi and ask him why he's driving a riksha in bombay. it must be done convincingly mind you. they'll drive out of sight without a peep.
but i, obviously havent tried that yet. the only bit of marathi i get is the one forced fed by reliance through the phone " yeh number banda haain" or something like that.

back on the jog, forgetting all the woes that my knees will give me 10 years later, i continue on my charted route right till the carter road sea face - fully loaded along the way with three major junctions carrying the average speed of "get out of my way dude" and the climb to the summit of pali hill. On the build-up to the hill i rake in the mexican smells from 'papa pancho', scorn at the members coming out of gold gym, but that's all mostly in vain.

No amount of inspiration or motivation can prepare you for the climb. I've tried "eye of the tiger", i've tried the "departed soundtrack", i've even tried house dammit - and i hate house. nothing works.

so i try, and i try, and i try, at 2.5 km/hr, running what seems like almost walking, well just almost. once atop, the rest of the journey is a hoot. Its almost like the final leg of the tour de france...youre running downhill, its faster, the crowds whizz by, and you can smell the sea. the finish line. A final junction to encounter and you're there - carter road - populated by about 1000 more people, joggers and walkers and pet owners and lovers and loafers and writers and peddlers and what not. right there, staring at the sea as if its this magical pool that has an answer for everything - whatever your question may be and whoever you may be.

i try and spend some time there to cool off and just be. still without a thought. exhausted and empty. all that's left then is the long road back, all the way home.

oh and have i mentioned the legs in bandra? mama mia....well maybe another time.