Of the park and my groggy morning jogs

For slothful people like me, it is quite an achievement in itself to wake up early morning and jog along the perimeter of my neighbourhood park. And believe me it is an ‘ask’ for me, as I have always been a bit groggy and un-athletic, balking at even the slightest idea of running , that too in morning!!

But against the status quo, I am waking up early morning this summer if not at the crack of dawn and trying to grease my rusty bones which have not been engaged in any active physical activity since my class 10^th days (I am 21 years, mind you!).So it is a welcome induction into my otherwise passive daily routine. And it’s not that I have never been to my park before. It’s just that I have never been this consistent in the past. Perhaps motivation is the best fuel for any activity!

This post, however, was cropped up in my mind not because of my grogginess but because of the world I see in that park during my half an hour jog. The park at around 6 p.m. is an iridescent sight to put in a word. A refreshing air of enthusiasm pervades in the park that can bring a spring in the stride of the laziest. To begin with, there are a few steadfast brisk walkers who are regular as clockwork. Perhaps these have eked out precious time from their hectic schedules to devote it to few minutes of walk. They usually vanish in thin air in about 15 minutes. Then, there are noisy boisterous bunch of children and adolescents, relishing their summer break with morning cricket dose. Not to forget few aunties walking peculiarly yet briskly, blabbering along, looking so determined as if they are here to stay till eve but generally fizzle out when I confront them after minutes. Another set of walkers are the middle aged chubby men, flaunting a paunch, running to end the scourge of obesity! There are fresh faces who chip in everyday and add to the novelty of the motley crew.

For the last two categories, I have kept the people from which I draw inspiration to jog! No, I am not talking of Usain Bolts of park but about the septuagenarian looking men and even older, persevering to carry all agile-suited tasks-exercising, laughing, gasping for breaths, and again recurring to exercising and heartily laughter. There is no panache and flair in the way they do this, some even look weird. But it’s the courage and determination to be healthy which awes me. I wonder if I’ll be able to convince myself to even come to the park 50 years down the line, let alone exercising. Despite their laughter being drowned in the exasperating din of children, they stand out as the real SUPERSTARS of this morning for me! Another set of elderly people scattered through the park, stand lonely at one side of the park and imitate the exercizes done by the central group of elderly ones. Perhaps, they have a fear of interacting with the group or think that others might mock at their not-so-supple exercizing abilities. Whatever the case-everyday these people come alone, stand or sit in a reclusive corner and imitate the exercizes( to some extent) and go away. The scene almost draws pity from me. May be that's what lack of gregariousness can do to people!

I am not sure till how long I’ll have a rendezvous with this park and its changing faces. But I am sure that this ‘park’ experience is ethereal and has made an indelible mark on my bland ways and days...

Mind the gap. Mind the shoves.

Image courtesy: THE HINDU

Seat seat everywhere.
No seat to take.
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                                                    * THE IMPACT : prologue*

"Where is Neeta's marriage next sunday?"
" Paschim Vihar, opposite Metro pillar no. 655"

This is what Delhi metro has done to Delhi in last nine years or so. It defines the way things move and also defines the way non-moving things ( Read: Neeta's venue! ) are addressed. You are flying over and creeping under the hectic roads in 'saadi-apni metro'. All you have to do is pay at most 30 bucks and you can travel across the breadth of the city! Easy on the pocket, right? But that ain't a charity. So what profit are they eking out??
Interestingly, I read once that " DMRC makes an operating profit of Rs. 0.48 per traveller". Multiply that by daily commuters and it would statistically look like a business now!


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                                                          * Characters*

THE  COUPLE: They ease the rush by staying close. Need to say more?

THE FAT GRUMPY UNCLE:  Finishing moves ----Trampling feet and shoving giant hand.

THE FAMILY: Pappu, chhoti , munni and monu-all don't need VERSA anymore. DMRC at their service!

THE HOT CHICK: Busy on the phone or faking?

THE  MACHO MAN: He is always at the entry gate corner. And not leaves early.

THE PANICKERS: They somehow managed to not get stuck in closing doors! I bet they even didn't get the token inserted in one go?

THE SLOTHS: They can sleep any where. Shove them or kick them.

THE FRIENDS WHO LOOK REUNITED: they'll talk loud and won't mind stares. They actually thing themselves as youngistan representatives who own the whole damn metro

THE BUSINESSMAN: Making deals about reaching that station and overtly.

finally, THE 'YOU': At the centre of  the crowd, waiting for next station to arrive when the announcement says " we'r late,s orry for the inconvenience and you don't even have a 'physical metro touch' nearby to smash your face at"

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                                                               * the Pot Luck*

You are LUCKY if you make to Blue line metro itself. Amidst the swarm of people running , event his seems like an achievement that shouldn't be seen just like that

You are VERY LUCKY if you somehow find a dangling handle. You actually feel having an authoritative upper hand on the poor people who are still struggling to stand still without any support.

You are EXTREMELY LUCKY if you find the non-opening door as a respite to rest your jaded back. This way you also get to see people entering and exiting, making things less boring.

And , finally YOU ARE LUCKIEST if you find a man getting up inches away while you had no hope standing besides his seat , amongst with zillion of frustrated hands and legs.

And you are UNLUCKIEST if ...As as soon as you sit, a lady comes by and points out you have no business sitting there :P


Now you know why it is called BLUE metro.!!!

The home streets and that familiar feeling!

" Country roads take me home
  To the place I belong"

No.No.No.Mine is not a country place boasting of serene rivers and breath-taking ridges. Yet this John Denver number strikes a chord with me for the sheer pangs of nostalgia it evokes.This post goes down the MEMORY LANES and travels through vivid memories to recollect the whiff of some beaten roads  that will always be special no matter where I go. The home roads!

As I child, unlike most of the children, I relished staying indoors and making most of TV (You bet if you have watched more cartoons than me!!!), frolicking from one room to another and yes, playing and fighting with my sister. Yet I loved playing cricket and would often go to the nearby park and stand there-waiting for BADE BHAIYAs playing there to offer me to play. Still I haven't played  as much cricket in my childhoodas  many children of my block have, who thronged the park in mornings and yet saved energy to be there in evenings!

But the home streets couldn't have eluded me ever. My school being a walking distance away, my tuitions being a walking distance away, the markets being a walking distance away-I sauntered by my adolescence and late childhood through the streets of my home place. They aren't fancy Delhi places nor are these despicable shanties-they are clean medium sized roads full of vivid life, full of activity-buses, people and vendors.They are tableau of colourful life-of people briskly rushing for offfices, of noisy children, of  zooming youth. 'Deserted' and 'marooned' are appropriate antonyms..No one  has time to stop and think-it's almost 'Criminal' to do that in this hectic life!!

I  have walked so much on them that they have become an indispensible part of my life.Rushing for school everyday, chatting along with a good friend on return  from school, with another friend while returning from tuitions, going to Mandir and Gurudwara on that road ,ambling down  a small yet lively market on the busy corner of that road, for purposelessly strolling in labyrinthine and maze-like streets that interconnect the blocks   ....these have timestamped themselves so gradually that I didn't ever realize their significance till I went away!

It is a clichéd saying-" Absence makes a heart grow fonder". I realized the literal implications entailed with it when I left the streets for pursuing my graduation. On my first visit to home after going there, when I 'promenaded'  back to those streets, a kind of ecstasy embraced me-reminding of the moments that I've spent here. Till now, whenever I come here, I feel very relaxed and nostalgic.A familiar whiff and  familiar environs give a kind of security- 

a security that some things never change with time, a security that I am in the lap of the known, a security that some precious moments haven't been lost in hullabaloo,a security that convoluted life simplifies here.....a security that I am home.


These certainly are not tarmac things for me. The moments I have spent here have animated these. And why not? These have seen me grow from an introvert child to a  puerile teenager and to a much wiser grown up.

Yes,we aren't done yet. We aren't done.