My marathon journey

42.2 kilometres: How I did it

How did I do it? 

1. This one you know - start small. 

I started with 1 km every day some five years ago. I invested in a running shoe (2.5K) and was determined to recover that cost. So I kept at it. 

2. Graduate carefully. You will be very excited to scale up fast. But you should be mindful of how your body, particularly your knees and leg muscles, take it. 
3. I did two mistakes initially, I wasn’t doing enough strength exercise initially and did not space out my run as my miles got longer. In my haste, I developed injuries. 
4. So you must do your stretches. You should spend as much time in warm-up workout as in clocking your miles. When you start doing more than 3 km a day, you should run only on alternate days.
5. When you touch 5 km you may think of doing it once a week and short runs during other days you go for a workout. 
6. One important thing - you should always hydrate well, drink about a litre of water, before your run.
7. At any sign of muscle pain, you should stop. I naively thought legs would recover on themselves as I ran more and nearly aggravated runner’s knee and tendon pain which I was afflicted with. 
8. You may continue with your strength training while taking a pause from your running. Eventually your muscles become strong enough to absorb the shocks during the run. Give them time. I didn’t run for almost a year when tendon pain gripped me. This was after I touched 5K. 
9. Needless to say, you should hold on to your passion to come back into running even after such considerably long absence from the running track. 
10. It is good to have some personal milestones. I aimed for a 10K initially and harboured ambitions to do a 21K later. 
11. When you reach a big milestone like 5K, you shouldn’t think of accelerating further. You should stay at 5K for some time so that you would always be in a position to do a 5K. Many of those who accelerated fast and won a 10K or half-marathon medal, never returned to the track. It is good to go slow and steady.
12. Once you sense 5K is “hardly anything” for your body you think of running farther. You will see 10K is within reach.
13. 10K is an important milestone for every amateur runner. By this time, you are a lot slimmer, stronger and more athletic than when you started out. Hold on to it. I see to it that I do a 10K every weekend and will try to squeeze in a 5K mid-week when I have a holiday.
14. This regime will help you prepare well for a 21K. If you clock 10Ks at a stretch comfortably and consistently, then you are in good shape to aim for a 21K. Of course, you should step up your strength training and do trials before you sign up for a race. 
15. Full marathon. Mind you, this is not just about your leg muscles but about your whole body, particularly your heart, too. One should be very discreet while deciding on a 42K. Because 21K level - that is going that distance once a quarter, doing 10Ks on weekends and shorter workouts in between - is good enough to maintain your physical and mental well-being (I am talking exclusively from a running point-of-view)
16. It is advisable to undergo an echo 2D and TMT checks before you go for a full marathon. Ideally you should prepare for about three months. 

While this is my short guide to friends who want to start running, I have done a retrospection of my journey as a full marathoner. 

My Marathon Journey

So where will I begin? I am hitting keyboard to write something personal after years (save occasional brief Facebook posts). I have forgotten the art, if at all I had possessed one. Yet, let me give it a shot. After all, it was a long overdue which I had thought about doing many a time. And many of my friends had asked me for this a number of times.

I would rather do it in a Q&A format. Short questions and long answers:

How did you get into this?

 I think all of us seriously start thinking about doing some form of exercise in the early 30s. Indian men start getting worse for the wear by that age. My case was no different but I wasn’t doing any. Then there was a time when I stayed  alone in Mumbai when wife was in Kerala for the delivery of our first child. During those prayerful period I used to walk to the hilltop church to attend mass every morning. It was a 2 km stretch. At some point I felt it was a good idea to run a portion of that distance. I found some sudden change in my body. I felt I looked prim at the baptism ceremony. 

Soon babysitting took up most of my non-work hours and I could not carry on my newfound physical activity. But household chores including floor mopping kept me physically active :D Later, when I shifted to a new suburb, the two kilometre walk from the station on my return from work in the late evening was the major physical activity. 

You still didn’t answer how you got into this

Those sporadic activities weren’t enough to keep a bulging midriff under check. You have to do something serious. The long Mumbai commute, your desperate efforts to stay relevant in your work and other personal struggles didn’t really allow time to think about this. Providentially, I could rejoin my wife and toddler daughter in Bangalore after staying apart for a year. I would still thank my benign then boss in Hindustan Times for the transfer. 

Hey you are digressing big time!

No, it was just to tell you that, although I got a taste of regular running in Mumbai, it really took off when I moved to Bangalore. The commute distance became less than a tenth of that in Mumbai. And our super efficient house help freed up a lot of time for us (Alas, our dear chechi bid us farewell four years later). I started getting fed very well. I soon started looking awkward in my slimfit white wedding shirt, the one I got stitched from Raymond and preserved for special occasions and meetings. At 34, my midriff now seriously threatened to bulge out. It upset me. I gotta run!

The shirt I told you about. This is when I started running in 2014.

Then?

Then, into the third month of my relocation to Bangalore, one fine morning I put on my old Woodland shoes and home clothes with some semblance of running wears and headed out to the nearest park. After a short warm-up I started running down the hardly 100 metre perimeter of the neighbourhood park and disturbing the morning walkers. Oh, what joy it was to finish ten full rounds then! I did it daily and again started feeling the change in the body. 

That’s it?

Not really. One day when I got a PR call asking if I would be interested in meeting Mohammed Naseem, the technologist-marathoner-entrepreneur whose fitbands were gaining popularity among Bangalore’s IT crowd, I grabbed the opportunity. The running picture of Mohammed on ET had caught my eyes. I told him about the small start I made. “Oh you stay just 1.5 km away from Lalbagh. You got a beautiful running track.” New to the city, I didn’t know this. I then started walking to Lalbagh every morning. 

Two things did happen during this time. My walking/running became much longer. My old Woodland shoes soon gave up. I clocked about five kilometre daily - 3 km walk to and fro Lalbagh and a 2 km run around the beautiful lake. One day I forgot my purse at home and seriously felt the itching to buy a pair of sports shoes when I was in office. My then colleague Sudipto lent me money. I bought a pair of Reebok shoes on discount. Much like my slimfit wedding shirt served a warning about fattening, this 2.5K investment during financially constrained times put pressure on me to make serious attempts to recover that cost. 

My well worn first running shoes. 5 year-old Rs 2.5K Reebok. I still use it sometime

So you kept on running?

Yes. Predictably, I overdid it. While I was becoming fitter,  this daily 2 km run and 3 km walk put pressure on my legs. I got scared by a strange pain around my knees. I even got them X-rayed; only to find practically nothing. Even normal walking became painful. That is when I googled and came across ‘Runners Knee’. That inaugurated my research on running. There is an abundance of authentic and scientific material available online. It was a big relief to know I am not alone in this journey. Most of the amateur runners, especially those who aren’t naturally endowed with broad physique, come across such troubles pretty soon. So running is as much about our consistency as we deal with such physical and circumstantial hurdles each time we come across them. In short, focus and perseverance. 

What did you find out?

I found out I was doing it all wrong. In my excitement I straightway ran every morning. And I did it every day. I didn’t space out for the fear of missing out something. So two things. You don’t start running straight away. You need to do your stretches. You got to strengthen your muscles. There is something called strength exercises. Also, you don’t run every day. If it is a short 2 km jog or walk you may do it every day. There will be little effect otherwise. But as your miles get longer you need to space out. When you get the signs of trouble you need to pause. 

I came across various forms of strength exercise through youtube videos. I followed them consistently. The runners knee went away within weeks and I started running again, but only after doing my stretches. I went for a run only on alternate days. By this time I began doing two rounds through the track around Lalbagh lake - 3.6 km - comfortably. 

Okay, but that isn’t a big milestone

It is not. But, in about three-four months I got my basics right. My miles got longer. Then one day I met Mohammed and updated him about my progress. “The perimeter of Lalbagh is 5 km. We will do a full round together.” It was difficult to keep up with the pace of tall and athletic Mohammed. I was in great distress by the final stretch but he pushed. He handheld me for a few yards to the finish. I blacked out for a couple of seconds at the finish of my first 5 km. There was a serious mistake in my run-up - I didn’t hydrate. You got to drink a litre of water before you start a run. If it is a long run you need to drink during intervals. I now do 10 km on weekends. I start after drinking 1 litre or more. After the first 5 km I will again start drinking. 

So, you reached your first milestone!

Yes. But not without troubles. In my journey to 5K I became familiar with two new kinds of pain - plantar pain and tendon pain. Luckily, the plantar pain - the pain in the sole of the foot - which I experienced soon after my first 5K went away in a couple of days. However troublesome my first 5K experience was, I had decided to stick to 5K each time I hit the running track then onwards. I did my next 5K a day after or so to reinforce my own belief I could do it. While I comfortably finished it, my tendon pain resurfaced perhaps more forcefully. These kinds of muscle pain can be so distressing that you would start doubting whether you would be able to run again. A week later I did another full round  Lalbagh. My pride of finishing the run lasted only a few hundred metres of walking back home. I started feeling strong tendon pain. This repeated each time I clocked a 5K. 

My strength training was not sufficient to deal with this pain. It refused to go away. I returned home each time with a heavy heart. So my running lasted hardly a year. I was convinced I should stop. For the whole of 2015 I made only a few attempts to get back into running. Each time it pained my shin bones. I read up on the internet about ways to deal with tendon pain. Almost regularly I did exercise to strengthen muscles. Eventually, I reached a stage where I no longer felt tendon pain even after a 5K round on weekends. I thus became a weekly 5K runner. 

5K is small, isn’t it?

Yes and no. No, because it is a calorie-burning strenuous workout to finish a 5K. You will start feeling changes in your body. Good enough. But, yes, you cannot claim to be a runner. You are still at an aspirant runner stage. I was at that stage for many months - a weekend 5K runner. I never put a single picture of my running on Facebook. I felt that one should at least clock 10K to call oneself a runner. I was aware of the perils of accelerating too fast too early, thanks to my previous experiences. I took it rather slowly. 

Every weekend I would complete a full round along the perimeter trail of Lalbagh and walk back home. It became very predictable and easy. One day I felt like adding a smaller stretch to it - running around the lake or adding some 2K. Nearly 8K run didn’t really stress my body. I then decided to run two rounds thereafter. 

I don’t really remember but I would imagine how ecstatic I might have been when I first did it. You are now in a position to call yourself a runner. Within weeks I signed up for Adidas10K, my first ever race. Registration fee was cheap so I did not have to think twice before registering. My friend Brian alerted me about it.

I was nervous that morning amidst a large crowd of serious runners. I found myself asking a few strangers whether I would complete this. One of them asked me whether I had done that in the past. “Yes, a few times I clocked 10K.” “It should be fine then.” It indeed was. About 2.5 years after I jumped out of my bed and started running, I now completed a 10K race. I had a bib and timing chip. My timing was 1 hour 13 minutes. Got some photos and certificate to tomtom about my run, my reaching the first milestone of a lifetime dream of a half-marathon.

My first 10K

That was the first milestone? You earlier said it was 5K!

 Yes, 5K is the first milestone as far as your transformation into a serious runner is concerned. But if you have the dream of doing a 21K, you should first cross 10K to start aiming for it. I did that in October 2016. I knew once you reached 10K, there was no stopping. You achieved a certain level of endurance. It is just a matter of time you do your first half marathon. It actually was. The following months went rather uneventfully with weekly run and workout. I registered for TRORT Run. In another eight months I did my first half-marathon. I ran through the picturesque Kanakpura countryside with many uphills that tested my endurance. I finished with a smile in 2 hours 29 minutes. Of course, a couple of times I had clocked this distance during my trials but this was the first official run that testified my run levels as a half-marathoner.  Since I ran regularly I approached the race with some degree of confidence. So, three years since I started running, I did 21K. 

I quite enjoyed the the picturesque wayside of TRORT run route. My first half marathon in mid-2017

You reached your lifetime dream!

Yes. That was a dream come true. Then I participated and completed three races more in 21K category and bested my timing in each. Eventually, I felt a half-marathon a quarter isn’t challenging me enough. And felt like removing this prefix in my ‘half-marathoner’ tag. My friend Brian, who had already done a marathon and is more organised, technically sound and experienced runner than me, was planning a second full marathon. We synced up for this year’s Bengaluru Marathon. Another reason I am turning 40 next year. I wanted to do a 42K before turning 40. 

How did you prepare for your full marathon?

I ran my last half-marathon at Bengaluru Marathon 2018 very casually. I sprinted to the finishing point and didn’t really felt exhausted. I then got a sense perhaps I could aim for something harder. That is when I decided to attempt for a full marathon. I did not participate in any race for quite sometime while I continued my weekly 10Ks and mid-week 5Ks (this, whenever I got some extra time, very irregular). I had decided my next race should be a full marathon and skipped many running events. I was looking to join for a marathon coaching at Cult or some place like that. It didn’t happen. In the run up to this year’s Bengaluru marathon I decided “Enough of this wavering. I am doing it this time.”

Brian and I had less than two months to prepare for the full marathon since the day we firmed up our decision over lunch. So, we had to follow a strict schedule that involved at least two 35K runs in the space of three weeks. 

His preparation tips including using small bits of tape to cover nipples to avoid chafing and applying liberal doses of vaseline on the inner thighs for the same reason were immensely useful. I wish I could follow his strength training regime too. Way too impressive, involving daily push-ups and pull-ups. Mine is still not up to the mark. 

Brian and I after our first marathon trial run session

How was the training?

The training was pretty intense. Sample this: I run 40-60 km a month on an average. In August I ran 110 km and in September I ran 113 km. Brian and I met at around 5 am on September 2 for our first long run together in preparation for the marathon. We brought along energy bars, peanut chikki, water and biscuits. Predictably, even for a regular half-marathoner with decent levels of training it is a lot tougher after 30 km. We clocked 38K then. Three weeks later the 36K was even tougher. In between there were several 10Ks and 5Ks on almost every alternate day. I considerably slowed down about two weeks prior to the race day. 

What was the effect of such a rigorous training?

I adopted this rigorous training regime in my anxiety about whether I would successfully finish a full marathon. I was emotionally invested in it. Your legs will give up by 30K. It is your training, careful calibration and perseverance that pulls you through the last 10K. But 42 is not just about your leg muscles as in the case of 21K. It is more about your heart. You should intently listen to how your heart responds to such strenuous exercise. My reading as well as my experience of three 35K+ in the space of six weeks suggest it is a bit punishing for the heart. In hindsight, I wouldn’t want to squeeze in so much workout within such a short time. As those who know me will understand, I don’t take things lightly. Though I did not have any palpable signs of trouble, I did not leave anything to chance. I got an echo 2D and treadmill test done in the week up to the run. 

How was the run?

As in the two previous occasions during my trials, I got up very early at around 3 am, quickly made a scrambled egg sandwich and ate it (again, Brian’s tip). At 3.45 am, I barely made it in time for the full marathon. The Uber auto guy told me I was the third person he dropped at the venue that night/morning! I carried my daughter’s pink water bottle which I use these days when I go for a run. While they provide water at every alternate station I did not want to leave anything to chance. There was a nasty experience of not having enough water during the race at another event. 

After 15K or so, I tried a leg up hamstring stretch during a loo break and that didn’t go well. I developed a muscle pull in my right inner thigh. “Something I never experienced before! Why should this happen today??” That slowed down my run and eventually I got over it after another 10 km. That might have been the reason - (or my over-workout?) - I crossed half marathon at my slowest pace of 2 hour 30 minutes. Anyways, that is a lesson, a clumsy movement during the run, when your body is completely shaken, can cause some awkward twists and pulls. Do your mid-run stretches very carefully. Also, use the nearest toilet whenever you want to. Never hold up to complete a mile. It’s a bad idea.

One good thing was I wasn’t feeling particularly exhausted. So the slow pace was in a way a good thing. But, as expected, by around 32K legs almost gave up. But that didn’t stop you do your hardest 10K to reach the finishing point. From 28K, I started walking some small stretches. In total I may have walked 5-6 kms in the middle. I stored enough energy and always took care to hydrate very well so that the last stretch was fun and exciting. I ran to the finish with a sense of strength and poise. In 100 metres to the finish I howled! I looked at the race clock. It was 4:36:11.

Full marathon. Just 300 mtrs before the finish.

It is hard to think...

He ruled the show. He did it in style. I was his rival. Fallen from grace I grumbled in my relative insignificance while he turned adversities opportunities, won over my camp and left me high and dry. My own botched up romance and pathetic class records further complicated things while he sailed through smoothly.

 In the end, my foolhardy school politics gave some rich lessons. The most important was "play to your strengths". Life mocks at you by offering close proximity of a person you would much rather stay away from. We again ended up classmates in college! All our school mates who witnessed our legendary rivalry had a sardonic grin.

 A bit more wised up perhaps, I focussed on studies, writing and some voluntary work. I was laying foundation for a career in development journalism. (It is another matter I haven't got there yet!) Or more precisely, l was playing to my strength. And he was to his. As people with different pursuits, not competing for same space, we were no longer rivals, neither were we friends.

 Nobody gave him a chance when elections came up in the second year of college. Rather, many looked at his ambition with disdain. Again he changed odds in his favour. It was someone else's turn to fall from popularity and screw up his advantage. There was this nice guy, amiable, accommodative, experienced and versatile. Almost a natural choice. Needless to say, where my loyalties lied.

 But again we were flummoxed. He spotted weaknesses in our campaign: elitist and complacent. He figured that his opponent spoke only to a set of people. He built his campaign around the silent underdogs who were angered by such discriminations. From each corner he unearthed those unnoticed ones and talked them into his sworn warriors. They took up his cause. Prior to counting he said he would win by 20 votes.
He exactly did!

Again, from an unlikely position he went on to take all laurels. It was 'audacity of hope' at a micro level much before the historic Obama campaign was unleashed. He had a great run. This time I wasn't grumbling as my choice of pursuits worked well for me. I was rather appreciative of the organizational talent he displayed. I told friends, "mark my words. He will be something in the years to come". I think it was a shared belief of many.

 We grew close as our appreciation was mutual. I discovered in him a sincere friend, who stood above petty feelings of revenge and jealous, who is quick to forget frictions and reach out. Already lost his father, lack of resources forced him to take a break from studies. After graduation, he went to teach in a school in the interiors of a distant state. After a year or two, he resumed studies. When he rang my home to say he joined for social work post grad, my mom told him “you took up a course that best suits you”.

 We, those close to him, have all been waiting to see him making giant strides. When he continued to struggle, we thought, somewhere along the way there would be a turning point, a big break. Between the intervals of years, we met in one or other distant cities. Long calls and social network kept up conversations. He confided troubles, turbulences, triumphs and tribulations.

Regardless of economic rewards, he worked hard on his assignments, enjoyed a career in vocational training, social uplift, job and entrepreneurship creation. He went through some difficulties in relations. He waded through unthought-of challenges. He was again picking up pieces and building life. He moved closer home from up north. Recently he informed me about clearing an important hurdle for overseas jobs. I encouraged him saying “tide is turning in your favour”.

 Four days ago, in the middle of a group chat, he suddenly told me that he was just about to land in our city. He was on his way home for a long weekend. Inconvenienced by night, distance and paucity of time, we decided to meet when he would come later this month. It was but our last bit of conversation. Some 19 hours later, I heard of his untimely death. A massive cardiac arrest took away his life while he was sleeping at his brother’s place after an exhaustive overnight journey. It seemed to me as an abruptly ended saga. I never think his story was supposed to end in such a way. In utter bizarreness, someone known for his muscularity and energy in his early youth depart this life in mid 30s, leaving much to be done and leaving his dear ones in utter dismay. Stephen, it is hard to think you are no longer there, just a call away…

U R Daya of Almighty

U r Daya of Almighty
I knew prayer power from
1000 rosary beads
On the day u were born
At the end of wait
On the day of hope
In the month of Mary
When world seeking its
Seven billionth
You were born!!
You came with a
Short soft cry
With wide eyes
You looked around
With deep dimples
You charmed evry1
You wake up with
Smiles every morning
And brighten our days
Your tantrums ignite
Laughter at our home
Daughter!
You r our Little Mary
Little Molly
The sweet little thing
Whose giggles and chatters
Will fill our lives hereafter!

Mathukkuttichayan, my first employer

An early morning sms from a close friend, another Manorama alumnus, informed me about the passing away of Mr K.M.Mathew. Later,when CNN-IBN flashed the news and it was followed by streams of reports on next day’s newspapers, Malayalam as well as English, I knew it affected me in some ways.

Mathukkuttichayan is my first employer. Going through the obituaries, the heart-felt accounts by so many whose lives he has touched, I had a trip down memory lane to a day in the beginning phase of Monsoon six years ago. The rain did not assume its full fury yet. It was July 8, 2004 I walked into Malayala Manorama to join as a sub-editor trainee.

The octogenarian patriarch of the giant newspaper organisation personally handed over my appointment letter, shook hands with me saying “welcome to Manorama”.

There were three in my batch. We were taken to his cabin and as a matter of practice; the HR had made it a small ceremony. He was very active and enthusiastic to meet the new entrants to the big newspaper family he had carefully nurtured for many a decade.

The white dothi-jooba clad grand old man was an endearing presence in the quiet atmosphere of that afternoon. I still remember his light and gentle words, a brief address in simple and straight sentences in Malayalam interspersed with English.

I had often shared with my friends the first and foremost thing he said; “We shouldn’t write in our paper something that a fifth pass cannot understand”. It of course speaks of his wisdom in identifying fortunes at the ‘bottom of pyramid,’ that the benefit of simplifying newspaper language.

I think it is this approach of his that made Manorama a popular choice across Kerala. But one thing I am sure is that this was his life’s philosophy – to be simple. His next advice was to maintain humility always. I remember that he chose the English word ‘humility’ to drive home his point.

“The fact that we are journalists from Manorama should not make us arrogant. We should be humble while dealing with others,” he said. The next point in his five-minute speech to three of us was a practical advice – to keep a scrap book always.

I understood the profound influence of this brief interaction on me only when I realised the memories of those words, of not just the tea and cashew nuts we had in his cabin, was this clear in my mind.

I had another personal encounter when I went to his cabin to meet a young foreign couple who were travelling around the world on a jeep in their effort to raise public sympathy towards Alzheimer patients.

A few weeks into training, I was on bureau duty that day when a call from his office came asking for somebody to report about this foreign couple who visited Achayan and I was sent.

He had a friendly humerous chat with them along with tea and biscuits and made me a party to the conversation. The story about this couple came in the local edition, I think it was my first in Manorama as a staffer. The headline, if my memory serves me right was, ‘Ormakalillathayavare Ormikkaan’, (to remember those who lost memories).

Eight months later I was transferred to Calicut and I did not see him in person ever after. A year after I joined, I quit Manorama in pursuance of a career in English media.

I went to the head office for finishing the formalities and meeting my seniors and friends in Kottayam office of Manorama. Mr Mammen Mathew, achayan’s eldest son, editor & MD of Manorama, allowed me an appointment despite being so busy that day.

I told Mammen sir I have quit Manorama and joining Indian Express. He said “All the best and God bless you. In case of any need we are all here”. It was such a touching moment.

I still keep with me the letter of appreciation he had sent me for one of my stories. Another letter which is an invaluable preserve is the one I received from Editorial Director Mr Thomas Jacob when I left Manorama.

In retrospect, Manorama has been a fond memory, thanks to a culture of love and compassion which is Achayan’s legacy.

In the worst case scenario I could still fail

“I know you did some malpractice, both for theory and practical,” that was the reaction of my physics teacher when he came to know that I managed to scrape through my higher secondary exams. He cannot be blamed for making a defamatory statement. For somebody, who scored 18/100 for the half yearly exams, who rarely got his practicals right, who was 54th in a class of 60 (many shared same place, so 54 would mean really at the bottom!), scoring 47/100 for theory and getting a difficult practical experiment like P.O.Box right were something improbable if not impossible.

As he had once caught me for counterfeiting his signature for a practical experiment, he was convinced that it was not just that i was completely out of place but had also resorted to malpractices. But the fact was I sort of realised with my goofed-up counterfeiting attempt that malpractice was something not my cup of tea and it would just add to my troubles. Thankfully, fairly early in life.

My physics teacher considered me wood-headed and useless. For him, I am the one who lagged behind in terminal exams, fumbled in practicals and had no clue about what was going on in classroom and lab.

I think for that he has to at least partly blame himself. I was a student who came with 84 per cent marks for physics for the 10th exams. In fact, it was one of my most favourite subjects. His intimidating style of teaching, his constant threatening, his partiality for high-ranking ones had long put me off. And in fact, I developed this habit of siesta during the post-lunch physics classes in my higher secondary days.
And for somebody who was used to lot of pampering, acclamation and affection till tenth, this relegation to a non-entity was something too much to take. But it was a period when I realised for myself that if things could possibly go wrong by any minute chance it would surely go that way....

Probably, such bad times revisited me only after 12 years, that is this year, when things were again going wrong in every possible ways..

1997. The ignominy of revenue recovery procedures including auction ads for our property in the local columns, humiliatingly high levels of debt after father’s wild goose chases, the crumbling house, familial issues....it was a drowning feeling. As if these were not enough, i defaulted on assignment submissions on a permanent basis, physics and maths classes went over my head, completely lost out to the rival in school politics, best friends crossed over to enemy camp or turned indifferent, scored historically low marks and most painfully, was completely let down by my beloved.....

Perhaps, more than all that was crumbling around me what consumed my unslept nights was her let down. I wrote poems one after other every night, mostly about the pain of rejection. I ran away from text books and read about art, literature, culture and politics. I read the most contemporary poems. I spent the cash awards I got for essay competitions on buying books and set up a small home library – to which I used to keep looking at with excessive amount of pride.

My mom was extremely hurt when she once visited the school when progress report was out. “He will always have some company around him and is least bothered about studies,” maths teacher’s words, her expression of strong disapproval and dislike left mom in tears. For she, in two years it was things turned upside down.

She had seen her son being everyone’s favourite in school when she came for anniversary when he was in tenth, proudly heard a special mention about his achievements in annual school report, seen him addressing the gathering as school leader..

But here, in another school, in another two years, he has become a pariah, a failure, a nuisance, a left-out. “I was the one who taught him to read and write. That too in 15 days...”before she completed her sentences she was in tears and a lump was formed in her throat. As she broke down in the awkwardly emotional moment the entire staffroom wore an embarrassed look.

So things were moving from bad to worse. It didn’t seem to find a halt till I finally told myself something needs to be done. Given 26/150 for maths and 18/100 for physics, my chances to pass higher secondary are pretty slim, I told myself. I thought of bunking those exams which were really difficult. But finally made up my mind to appear for all papers.

I told myself this is the most difficult test, once i pass through this, things will be easier. I can join for arts subjects for degree and fair well. I must face the challenge of attending exams rather than running away from them. I was prepared to face the ignominy of a failure if that was what it was supposed to be.

I found that except for maths and physics, I could handle other subjects such as chemistry, zoology, botony and languages. So all I need to do is to give special attention to maths and physics. I started reading physics text books for the first time! To his credit, the physics teacher gave excellent class notes. Not only that the text book made sense to me but also I found it quite interesting! Then for practicals, although a little late, I understood the diagrums could help one connect things in order and byhearted them. Although I never understood what they meant to be I was able to make PO Box or whatever little instruments work. Thus I ensured I wouldn’t fail!

Then comes maths where matrix, vector and a little understanding of differentiation is not just enough to cross the pass mark. Here came Joyichan, my dad’s younger brother a maths guru. An unslept night over differention and integration just a day before the exams – he said I picked up fast and actually would have done better - I survived the maths problem.

But, in worst case scenario you can still fail. So I was preparing for it when the results were approaching. That day when I got the newspaper, I was looking from the bottom to see my hall ticket number. Although my mind said I am through I had a slight fear when my number was not found in the third class list. Ooops I am there in the second class!

Unlike my physics teacher who chose not to believe I passed through merit, my maths teacher was particularly happy to see that I passed. The happiness was there in her eyes when she said “Manu, I honestly thought you would fail. But here you won. And when the ‘just-passed ones’ usually barely make it to 53 at the mercy of examiners here you have 64 marks! Quite an achievement and a hard-earned one. I am happy for you”.

Although it still remains to be an outstandingly low score in my academic record, the 57 per cent for higher secondary reminds me of a tumultuous time, a survival struggle and finally a big relief!

Ga..ga..over Goa

When Venu proposed this idea of ‘unwinding’ I didn’t know that it would goad me into a Goa-bound train just 45 minutes later. That’s exactly what happened. After a quick last minute read I filed the interview copy, lied to my marketing colleagues with whom I were supposed to go for a Sunday outing and hurriedly backpacked.

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The people along the Western cost, be it Keralites, Mangaloreans, Goans or Konkanees should thank Western Ghat and Arabean Sea. The sea sends water vapour winds which are stopped by the mountain, leading to an abundant splash all over the region. Thus we have rain-fed richly green mountains with dark deep forests, midlands with bountiful farm fields and awesome beaches. The midlands of Goa and Kerala are identical. The type of vegetation, laterite stones, tiled roofs and of course crosses remind one of Kerala. It was a breather for somebody who was missing it for many a month.

In all fairness, Goa’s greenery is richer and it maintained many of its traditional tiled roof buildings. In an ugly display of opulence, monstrous concrete houses stacked with petro dollars displaced most of the simple houses along the waysides of Kerala. Goa outrivals Kerala in density of Churches as well, which forced priests posted there to complain Portuguese King “Our bell and their bell. Our choir and their choir. There is cacophony here”.

* * * * ** * * * * *

When in Goa be Goans. When a small bottle of Carlsburg ejected that rough edged calcium stone from my bladder last year mom told me “that’s fine, but don’t make it a habit”. But, it might be the fear of its recurring tendency and beer’s digestive property that made me an occasional beer drinker. One bottle of KF is a given. About fenny, it is after all a country liquor brewed from the juice of cashew apple. You know, I am all for local inventions and organic products. But the danger was I had three unmixed fenny shots (the last one was an accident, I mistook fenny for water). It’s only then I realised how much I love my brother, how well I can engage my father in a conversation and how funny the chat with mom can be.

I talked about house construction and finance with brother, then discussed stories and career with father and chatted about all that happened in the day with mom (including the virtues of fenny). Anyway, mom didn’t call me the next day. May be she didn’t want to hear my fenny-inspired ‘gunavathikaaram’ (blah-blah) for the second day. All said, I still consider myself a teetotaller, just like fish-eating Bongs consider themselves vegetarians.

* * * * ** * * * * *

A little intoxication can sometimes bring out your hidden faculties. Venu found it hard to open the door and applied further pressure. The key broke into two pieces. The rest was a drama. ‘Hurt’ by a bizarre incident, an enraged tourist – that is me - rushes to the reception and complains about the ‘subquality’ key. Only later that everyone realised we tried entering the wrong room! But by the time we successfully put the blame on the management who procured fragile keys for the hotel doors. But in the absence of a spare key, I had to climb over the balcony and do a spiderman to unbolt the backdoor.

The next morning when we checked out, wisdom dawned on the hotel people. They demanded penalty for breaking their key by trying it on the wrong door. We stuck on the ‘subquality’ argument. Now we had additional points; the security of the hotel. Someone could easily sneak in through the backdoor. What if a thief adopts the same way, just as the tourist with the misplaced key did the previous day? No fines, nothing, only thank you!

* * * * ** * * * * *

Each time I enjoy the soft and not-so-soft beatings of sea waves, which come one after the other, I remember one of my earlier visits to seashore. That was when I was in seventh, I guess. Just before V.P.Singh’s rally, we – father and me - along with the fellow party workers from our hilly village had a sea bath. When he took me to the shores father reminded me of those popular lyrics: kadalile olavum karalile mohavum adangukillomane adangukilla…(the waves in the sea and desires in the heart will never stop).

And that day I saw how drunk and crazy he can be which made me threaten a sudden return. This time in Goa, I was perhaps five times less drunk and crazy. But I was at least slightly drunk and slightly crazy. I think once in a while it is good to have a sea bath and to be a little crazy. Preferably, at Kolva beach.

* * * * ** * * * * *


Having left Goa, one thing I miss the most is fish curry rice. The Goan fish fry with coarse rice flour will make you all the more joyous. We had a repeat of the same for the second day lunch. From an unimpressive wayside eating place in Old Goa, each of us had two bowls of rice and half a dozen fish pieces, along with other side dishes. All for 80 bucks! Oh forgot to add, the boy took two clicks of us enjoying lunch. By the time I returned, the stomach has become a small aquarium.

* * * * ** * * * * *

The third and last day was not meant to be fully fun. We were in the village town Koodal where Maharashtra politician and onetime chief minister Narayan Rane is contesting elections from. Two and a half hours away from the Goan town of Mapusa, this Konkan village town has narrow roads, old buildings and Malvadi-speaking unambitious farmers. If he gets elected yet again, Rane should ensure one thing that many more banks will open their ATMs there. It was scary to walk pennyless for about one k.m. only to find the omni-present SBI ATM is shut. The 12th person we asked did help; there was an Indian Bank ATM on the other part of the town. Thank God.

Talking about money, I don’t know how we can plan out an austere trip. Perhaps, a totally unplanned one would be better. The three-day Goa trip cost each of us in the region of Rs 2500!

What happens in BJP

Caught in a busy week I thought the topicality of the issue would fade by the time I sit down to write. But thankfully, the BJP leaders have kept the issue alive till I am finally ready to attempt typing down my thoughts on the current crisis.

A book analysing the moderate facet of Jinnah showed the way out for an already alienated Jaswant Singh. Yaswant Sinha, another leader who does not find much scope for himself in the generational shift that is taking place in the party, put in an angry resignation. The third one, Arun Shourie who has been a key figure in the saffron intelligentsia, provokes party leadership with his characteristic verbal attack. And Sudheendra Kulkarni, a political professional timed his VRS with these high profile departures.

The exit of these leaders who have no mass base may not have immediate electoral impacts in states where the Party is facing elections. However, given the profile of these leaders what the BJP lost was its remaining moderate trappings.

In my view, two forces have led to the present situation. One, the retreat of the BJP into its original hardline position. That is, a conscious decision to harden its hindutwa postures by shunning all secular cosmetics. These leaders with non-RSS background would naturally find it hard to earn a place in the current scheme of things guided, designed and perfected by the Sangh.

In fact, they are part of the Vajpayee era, a master tactician who successfully balanced the core Hindutwa agenda of RSS and mainstream democratic politics. As Jyotirmaya Sharma once pointed out the arrangement between Vajpayee and RSS was mutually beneficial. RSS got a moderate mascot and in return Vajpayee enjoyed power and position.

Demolition man Advani could never grow to this space no matter how hard he tried. Having found that moderate pretensions to reach out beyond the core hindutwa constituency is not working, RSS has decided to consolidate and expand its core. In the process, it inadvertently or otherwise, underscored the fact that BJP is mere a political outfit of RSS and weeded out ‘alien elements’ in the party. (Muktar Naqvi and Shanavas Husain better watch out).

Another force that paved way for the exit of these leaders was the desperation and internal contradictions within them. By learning, experience and personal convictions, all of them are not fully in sync with the annihilation-driven ideology of RSS. In spite of Babri, Bombay and Gujarat, what glued them to the BJP were crumbs of power.

Jaswant, Sinha and Shourie were key ministers in the Vajpayee cabinet while Kulkarni enjoyed considerable media glare. Now the positions of power are increasingly few and far between. The association with a party with aggressive rightist character is not paying commensurate political benefit while its solidifying hindutwa postures discomfort them. So, at least Jaswant might have thought that this is time to escape the wrath of history and save some honour for himself professing syncretic culture and Hindu-Muslim unity.