Movie Review - Good Will Hunting

You will always love movies that you can relate to - at some level at least. And you will always love going back to a movie that gives a new meaning every time you watch it. Good Will Hunting is one such movie. I first watched it almost 12 years back and since then I have seen it at least 10 times. Good Will Hunting has a lot of emotional heft. It asks many interesting questions. Is it a responsibility of every individual to justify his talents?, or rather ‘Is it criminal not to? Doesn’t the progress of humanity depend on everyone contributing up to his capability? Should heart follow the mind or other way round? Is there no place for just flowing with the tide? How does one define success and failure? Isn’t pursuit of happiness a good enough pursuit, or is it like giving up on doing the hard bit? Is there such as thing as underachievement or is it just about perception? Roger Ebert in his review of this movie says that “Good Will Hunting is the story of how this kid's life edges toward self-destruction and how four people try to haul him back”. But I do not think that the authors necessarily mean that Will’s life is on the path of self-destruction, underachievement yes, but not self-destruction. At a personal level, I ponder on these issues quite a lot, and that is why the film resonated with me. And I was so impressed to know that Ben Affleck and Matt Damon were in their 20s when they wrote the script (and won the Oscar for it).    

The central character is Will Hunting (Matt Damon), a self-educated, or rather well-read, genious in early 20s. He has rare once-in-ages talent. But he has had a difficult childhood, mostly in foster homes. He grows up with a bunch of much lesser intelligent friends (Chuckie, Morgan, Billy - Ben Affleck and Casey Affleck), ‘retarded gorillas’ as the movie puts them. All these guys together work at a construction site, metaphorically shown as the most mindless of tasks. But they are as close as adversity and common misfortune can lead to. This is established early on when all jump in to settle score with a gang, one of whose member had bullied Will long back. Or when Will uses his smarts to put in place a guy who tries to humiliate Chuckie by showing off his knowledge. This happens at a Harvard Bar this group frequents, because they are not intimidated and would go wherever they fancy. The bonding of this group is important to partly explain Will’s reluctance to embrace opportunities when they arise.

Will’s talent is spotted by a renowned (Field’s Medal winner) Mathematics professor (Prof. Gerald Lambeau played by the charismatic Stellan Skarsgard) who wants him to research with him. But Will is ‘content’ with what he is doing and stonewalls any attempt by Lambeau to rein him in. He is too smart to fall into any therapist’s trap. So Lambeau seeks help of Sean Maguire, his batchmate from MIT and professor of some ‘behavioural’ subject. (As a side note, the movie pits a Science professor and a Humanities professor with the undertone that Humanities is considered a lesser or simpler discipline with Science getting greater respect). Sean has had a rough upbringing, similar to Will (in a wry scene later in the movie, they exchange notes on the tools used by their fathers to beat them). Sean is able to succeed when all trained experts failed. They have an initial skirmish where Will tries to outmaneuver Sean by interpreting his life by analysing a painting, and Sean sets him in place by showing how hollow Will’s knowledge is without any emotion, how a person is more than a painting or a book. Sean succeeds by waiting, drawing Will out. In Sean’s words, “I won't talk first.” and Will’s silence is: “To show me he doesn't have to talk to me if he doesn't want to.”

From this point, the movie is about gradual unraveling of Will - both by Sean and by Skylar, a Harvard student who becomes his girlfriend. His collaboration with Lambeau shows his sure-footed and cocky side. At one point he says to Lambeau who is prostrated on ground to save a piece of Mathematics proof from burning “Do you know how fuc**** easy it is for me?” and Lambeau acknowledges he is no match for Will. One the other hand, Will’s meetings with Sean and Skylar show his vulnerabilities - a kind of evening of the balance between intelligence and soft skills. Sean is the voice to explicitly state the psychological undertone of the movie. One thought he shares is “Will pushes people away before they have a chance to hurt him” - which can explain how many times we misinterpret somebody’s arrogant behaviour.

In the last 30 minutes, the movie reaches a point where Will has matured and calmed down but must decide on his future. Is he willing to let go of this defense mechanism and fight it out in the world. Lambeau wants him to join any of the top institutes, such as NSA, which can tap his strong mental faculties. Will is uncertain. Everybody wants Will to succeed apart from him. He still argues why does he have to do justice to his talent? To whom does he owe this? That there is an honour in the construction work he does. There are many memorable scenes and dialogues at this point - between Sean and Lambeau, between Will and Chuckie and Sean and Will. Lambeau and Chuckie take the side that a person owes it to humanity to do justice to his talent, even if it requires a sacrifice of self. Will and Sean take the side that a person should follow the heart and success is not necessarily decided by what one achieves but in living the life fully. Sean gives a trivial example of this when he tells that he gave the ticket of one of the best baseball matches of all time just to follow a girl he had fallen for. In the last scene between Will and Sean, Sean says “Do what’s in your heart son. You’ll be fine”. In such movies, climax is not relevant, the movie is not about the goal but about the path.

All the leads give competent acting, but Robin Williams and Stellan Skarsgard were especially impressive. Their chemistry was sparkling. The strength of the movie is its script and it really shines. There are two glitches for me. One was that for a movie written so well, it places the entire focus on Will. While there is a background for other characters, but their existence is premised on bringing out different facets of Will. Be it Sean, Lambeau (he shows no envy and is relentless in pursuit of Mathematics, even at the cost of his pride), Chuckie or Skylar. They sidestep whenever Will has to shine, and that simplifies the situation greatly. Another minor quibble is that by the end, the movie starts to explain a lot, leaving little to interpretation. While this was fine with me, as I needed it, I am sure it would not stand well with those looking for the subtlety that such topics require. Nevertheless, the movie is not preachy and requires each viewer to answer the questions at a personal level, to take sides, to form judgement, a lot of which will come from own experiences, cultural nuances, times we live in!   

Book Review - Beyond the Last Blue Mountain by R.M. Lala

This book made me rethink about biographies. How should one look at a biography? How often a biography becomes a hagiography. I presume that to write a biography, the author would have to have some fascination, admiration, or plain interest in the subject of the biography. If the emotion is strongly positive, would that not bias the whole book? This has been the case with most biographies I have read. Another factor which can attenuate the whole effort is that inputs are required from the person on whom the biography is being written, such as interviews, past letters, memorabilia etc. The person thus may have a final say, or at least inputs to the final manuscript. This can significantly dilute the veracity and exactitude that the author is trying to achieve. But then again, is it not one of the purposes of a biography to inspire the reader? Everybody has weaknesses, why to ponder on those. Look at the positives for motivation and how to improve our life. While this is right, but I feel that knowing the person’s weaknesses makes them more relatable. Also, it makes their achievements more worthwhile, because overcoming personal drawbacks and inadequacies is the best inspirational story. Without weaknesses, a person becomes un-human. Then it becomes easy to write him off as well as his/her achievements as a freak, nature’s aberration.

I had similar feelings when I read this book. No weaknesses of JRD are exposed, apart from his short tempered nature (that too when he was young). While the book is not fawning of JRD, the author appears to be in awe of the Tatas, indeed he has held positions in the Group. This reduces the believability. Nevertheless, there are many things to like about the book and JRD. What definitely shines through is the man’s energy, his charisma, his sense of humour, and his vigour - both physical and mental.

The book is divided into four sections - on JRD’s childhood and early life; his interest in flying and his role in developing civil aviation in the country; his achievements as an industrialist; and his different roles as a person. Out of these, I found the section on civil aviation as protracted, repetitive and boring. Since the book is not a chronological account of the person, it goes back and forth a bit, which makes it difficult to keep track of the facts. This also led to many aspects getting repeated in different sections - for instance JRD’s relations with Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi. Also, despite the family tree given at the beginning, the family structure is confusing. Otherwise the book is even paced and solidly written. The language is simple yet effective, without cliches and embellished with quotes, and poetry. I found the last two sections most interesting, as these were not emphasising on facts but trying to bring out the facets of JRD.

Upfront, one can’t help but feeling that JRD was ‘born with a silver spoon’. And thus things were easier for him. The book does not hide this advantage. He was born in a rich industrial empire and had a luxurious life, with birth in Paris and upbringing in Paris, Japan and Britain. But at no point is JRD shown to be a prodigy, or a highly talented individual. Infact, the book does not make JRD to be a very skilled person in any tangible aspect. Instead his abilities are more in the softer aspects - leadership, determination, energy, drive and ambition. JRD himself thought he had no major achievements when he was appointed the Chairman of Tata Sons in 1938 at the age of 34. In fact the only ground-breaking achievements attributed to him is to pioneer civil aviation in India, literally from ground-up, making Air India into an airline of international repute and standards, difficult though it may be to believe today.

This is not to say JRD had no qualities and strengths. Infact there were many. What impressed me most is his sense of humour. The book gives many anecdotes in support. In most of this correspondences and speeches, he has started with a humorous tone to get the listener hooked or to ease the tension. A lot of humour was self-deprecating. He came across as somebody who did not like to think too highly of himself, despite his achievements. However, such impressions can be incorrect as they are based on few selected examples by the author. But another undisputed quality of JRD which stood out for me was his world-view, his wide interests. I think it came from his upbringing across continents, and the exposures he got by being born into a wealthy family with French mother and Indian father. And over the years, the exposure of the man only grew. At the helm of the largest industrial group in the country with presence across industries, had expanded his vision. A lot of JRD’s views on the state of economy, polity and society sound prophetic. JRD learning also grew because of his love for books. I especially liked the initial chapters which quote his favourite poems - made me excited about poetry.  

I think it is hard for lesser engaged people like me not to get amazed by how a corporate head like JRD’s time is spent. He was on the board of so many companies; he had to take important business decisions on a daily, nay hourly basis; he is on so many international committees and delegations representing the industry or the country (United Nations, IATA, Bombay Plan); he has to liaison, advise, or even spar with important ministers domestically as well as internationally (even the Prime Minister of India). It just makes one think how he managed his time across these responsibilities, not to mention, giving quality time to his fitness and other pursuits like skiing.

I especially enjoyed reading about JRD’s skirmishes with ministers of various stature and capacities - most importantly in the matter of greater political intervention and control of businesses, and increasing socialism. Some of the skirmishes were even with Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi. I felt intimidated to know that JRD was on close terms with the who’s who of the country (Mahatma Gandhi, GD Birla, Sardar Patel, C Rajagopalachari to name a few) as well as the world. What confidence, communication skills and candour it requires - and JRD possessed, or at least honed these.

I was stimulated by the language of the time, as gleaned from the many excerpts of the letters exchanged between JRD and others - both Indians and Westerners. The clarity of the language, the correctness of prose, the non-reliance on cliches or abbreviated phrases, was refreshing. It was a lesson in correct, stylistic, yet simple English for me. While it seems like a different era when people wrote like that, it did not sound outdated.   

Despite reading 360 pages on JRD, I was not sure of this actual contribution to the growth of Tatas. Sure he was the Chairman of Tata Sons and thus must have taken many important decisions. But I kept asking - ‘What was his personal contribution to the growth of Tatas? Something which JRD did and would not have happened under any other Chairman?’ To this, I did not get a satisfactory answer, or possibly I did not read between the lines well enough. There is a chapter which talks about various companies promoted by the Tatas in diverse industries, which showed vision as well as lack of clarity. Such conclusion may be derived from my own knowledge now, in 2017, when I know that Tatas have spread too wide and doing badly in most of their businesses. For me, Tatas today are a sign of unfocused conglomerate who entered almost every industry it could think of - a strategy which has not paid off.

But this is hindsight. JRD was driven by the need to pioneer industries in the country which once was in the clutch of a foreign rule and after independence, in severe need of entrepreneurs willing and capable of taking bold risks by rolling out factories in the face of challenges of execution, availability of technology and infrastructure, and uncertain demand. Tatas had the capability and wherewithal, and they certainly stepped up. Also, a lot of initiatives taken by JRD were not towards generating more profits or becoming more powerful, but towards building capabilities way ahead of time. These included pioneering projects like - building a cadre of managers, developing nuclear capabilities in the country, developing information technology industry and other technological centric industries. These initiatives showed a singular vision, risk-taking and zeal for development.

One quality of JRD which, should not have been in any doubt anyway, and which was reinforced by reading the book was his man management skills. He was not highly educated and acknowledges that he had no significant knowledge of any industry other than aviation. But he identified right people and developed and empowered them to grow specific business. Eventually people like Darbari Seth, Dr. Homi Bhabha, Sumant Moolgaonkar, Russi Mody, Nani Palkhivala, Ratan Tata, grew to be not just industry stalwarts but pioneers and knowledge centers in specific areas, for which India had limited background. I keenly took home some of JRD’s messages for people management, namely having trust in people, developing a degree of affinity, and to communicate well. Also, to not hold grudges despite personal differences or dislikes - to move on.  

As the book covered a man whose active life was from 1920s to 1980s, it encompassed a most interesting period of modern Indian history. There was the pre-independence era, the struggle for and eventual independence, and the post-independence building of the nation. It was interesting to note the distance that a business house like Tatas maintained, or had to maintain, from the freedom struggle. The book gives some feel of the life of a rich family in Mumbai during the British era and it sounds anachronistic to the state of country that one usually hears about. The rich certainly benefited from the British influence and exposure. Post independence, the country started with a mixed economy model which gradually become more socialistic. During such time, the frustration and anguish of JRD and his fencing with various ministries is well documented. The book gives insights into the direction of Indian polity and the mistakes made during this period.     

One character who provides comic relief in the book, apart from some of JRD’s repartee, was Bobby Kooka. He was JRD’s cousin and became Air India’s Commercial Chief. He is credited with creating the Maharajah and lovely advertisements around it. The book gives many instances where he is not afraid to use this medium for satire and getting even, partly, at the rich and powerful. Wish there were more like him today.  

While the book does not ponder much on JRD’s shortcomings, I could nevertheless sense a few. In some instance JRD came across as looking to control too much of the businesses. This was especially true of the airline business. As the corporate world has evolved over the years, there has been greater distancing of the owner/promoter and the management. Against this knowledge, and given that the Tatas had been ahead of the times in incorporating the best practices, I felt that JRD’s stint with Air India was a case of overstaying the welcome. While his involvement in deciding the smallest of details such as colour of tea and coffee,  are shown as virtues, but considering that he was the Chairman, a non-executive role, they can be questioned as intruding on executive members. And he continued to be the Chairman of many of the companies till late in his life. Another aspect, which is just my impression, is that there seemed to be a preference for Parsees in Tatas. WIth the exception of people like Sumant Moolgaonkar, Darbari Seth, Dr. John Matthai etc, all other key members mentioned in the book are Parsees - Nani Palkhivala, SA Sabavala, Russi Mody, Homi Mody, Ardeshir Dalal, Sorabji Saklatvala to name a few. Again, most business houses of those times had similar practices wherein a corporate was seen an extension of the promoter and thus carried the biases of the promoter. Principles of equality had still not permeated all spheres and on all aspects, and a high degree of discrimination prevailed, true today also. Not questioning the capabilities of the people, but one expected greater push to meritocracy from the Tatas.   

As the last few chapters course towards JRD’s last years and his demise, they focus on his religious beliefs. These are enlightening chapters. JRD had some belief in God but was not a faith-driven or a religious person. Most of all, he questioned the religious rituals and other orthodox practices. This middle path is refreshing and has greater, if not absolute, logical coherence to plain fanaticism. This approach also goes with his industrious nature - focusing more on what a person can do rather than relying on faith. The book talks about his penchant for poetry on ‘Death’ and greater reflection on existence and role of God during his last years. While the person’s modesty is evident throughout the book, from his letters and his conduct, it specifically shines through the description of his un-extravagant living. What a person! Just wished I could have understood him better from this book.   

A Hair-Cutting Story

I have a strange fetish - a hair cut. I usually get it done every third or fourth week and I particularly enjoy it. I find the experience therapeutic, a blissful time. I feel very relaxed when I am on barber’s chair, almost like when I jog, absolutely relieved of all stress. It is my personal time, with no intrusion. In the end, shedding just a few grams of hair makes me feel so light. Such is my love for this time that I almost plan it - almost always a Saturday morning, because there is no rush then; working around my gym/activity time; deciding on the mode of transportation, of which I have used many - walking, jogging, cycling, driving, public transport. And there are times when I carry my other weekend  relaxant - a newspaper, to read while waiting for my turn. All very simple, very soothing.

But the part integral to making this experience soothing is the barber. And I stick to one barber. Whenever I have had to change the barber shop, I have tried to stick to one barber in the shop. This gives me comfort of the knowledge that he knows what he is doing, how I want my hair to be cut. So I can sit relaxed. As I said, important to making the whole experience blissful. My barber for the last decade has been Ashok. It has helped my cause that he has been the most stable barber in the shop, among the usual inflows and exits. I do not talk much, and have gathered little information about him - primarily where he is hails from, and members of his family. And he too is usually reticent - speaks only when spoken to. But he is not glum, I see him joking with others many times, just that he maintains a kind of professional, dignified distance with a customer. In fact he is the most stable head in the shop, mature, maintaining decorum, reining in the excitable, brattish barbers when needed. All in all, a very calming presence, which suits me well.

During one haircut session I had a really interesting, rather enlightening, experience. I was waiting for my turn with Ashok. The guy before me, in green T, or the GT guy, was the typical prototype one finds in salons/barber shop these days. For such people, after a lot of focus on the head hair - inch-perfect height, specific undulations, the waves, the front twirl - one moves to the facial hair. This has to be tended delicately - cut the growth near the mouth and near the throat, and carefully trim what is between. After this is done, the GT guy points to his forearms while talking to Ashok. Ashok says something about coming some other day and the GT guy takes down his mobile number, tries to fix up a time, inquires about the price - he seems very particular about getting it done. He leaves and I take the place at the chair. Conversation with Ashok follows-

‘What did that guy want?’

‘Oh that! He wanted to be waxed’

‘Oh ok. Is it very common? Guys wanting to be waxed?’

‘Yes it is. Very common among gym going men’

‘Hmm. Is it just arms and legs or something else also?’

‘Oh everything. Back, chest also’

‘Ok. Strange how things have turned around. Earlier men used to have clean shaven face and did not bother about body hair (in fact I think there was a time, probably in 1980’s, when men used to flaunt chest hair, keeping top buttons of the shirt open). But now it is the other way round, less body hair and more on face.’

‘Yes it is.’

‘In fact that guy did not have too much hair on his forearms to be waxed.’

‘Yes. But gym guys..’

At this point I am thinking that Ashok is a capable barber - he can wax also. Now this shop is not a fancy salon where all barbers (I think they use the term hair stylist now) are in uniform, a place with more comfortable, spacy seating, where fancy procedures are undertaken - a hair-cut is usually just the start of a series of treatments. This shop is a comfortable barber shop, primarily focusing on the basic men requirement of a hair-cut, and a shave, which it does efficiently, without any fuss, and at low cost. At the same time, the shop is capable of doing fancier stuff to some extent - facial, face massage, pedicure, hair coloring, and now I know, even waxing.

So, I am thinking, Ashok has some basic functional knowledge of these fancy procedures. And my MBA mind thinks, he has been here for so many years. Doesn’t he think of moving to a better place. He would definitely earn better. There must be this ladder in the barber industry also where you move from a basic barber shop to a salon, then to a bigger salon, and so on. Why doesn’t Ashok try it? Infact, what about other barbers here? Then I say to myself, just like in the corporate world, they too may have the inertia I am so familiar with. The comfort factor of this place which is so informal, not too competitive, barbers are more friends than rivals, and most customers are acquaintances. There is no attempt to hard sell a fancy treatment. Yeah, that should explain. Ashok is content here, just like I am in my job. Not everybody is always looking for the next raise. Ambition is not a virtue everywhere. I was not making a negative judgement because I am myself very much like this, but it was a wry, defeatist feeling. Nevertheless, I probe Ashok -

‘This place across the road, Flicks & Cuts, that is more like a salon, right?’

‘Yeah, but they mostly do stuff for women’

‘Hmm.. and a hair cut there would be very expensive, say Rs. 150’

He makes some sound, but does not say anything. And I sense he is getting a bit cagey about saying anything about the place. It seems to me that he is worried that I may be thinking of trying that place and he does not want to discuss it. I was a bit surprised by this. I did not think Ashok would care that much.

After thinking for some time, I eventually ask him - ‘Haven’t you ever thought of moving to a bigger salon?’.

He replied ‘Oh, but I have bought this place now. I would be running it from 1st next month’.

And thus the penny dropped.

After that I probe him further just to be convinced that he actually owns this place - he has bought the shop in partnership with another barber here (apparently), from the existing owner (whom, I have observed, comes only in the evening and is usually busy in his numerous other enterprises), he would pay rent for the place, some renovation would be done in terms of new chairs, new dressing tables etc., he may have to think about revising the pricing, and yes, he would continue as a barber (what a relief!).

And so, I was humbled by humility and nonchalance.

PS - all these years, I have maintained the habit of tipping Ashok ten rupees at the end of a hair-cut. Today, I am thinking, should I still do it? He is the owner! Does one tip the owner? Eventually I did, would not do from the 1st of next month yet.    

Power Struggle

I suggest you cannot find more instances of ‘Might is Right’ than in Delhi. No data, just perceptions, but this city says ‘might is not just right, it is logical, justified, pure and sacred’. I had yet another experience of this recently. I went to my neighbourhood sports club run by DDA (Delhi Development Association, the best thing about this organisation is the numerous well-maintained sports clubs and parks in the city). I am a permanent member of the club and went for one of my occasional attempts to ‘learn’ the sport of tennis. Now I do not go regularly and have no playing partner. And I am very, very amateur. So I play in an enclosed hard court practice area where one strikes the ball against the wall. It has space for two people to practise, and it is usually vacant. This particular Sunday, as I was walking towards it, I could see a large group on the court, playing the favourite sport of this country. I agree that the space is excellent for the gully version of cricket given its decent size, hard surface, and well-defined confines - one side a long wall and rest three grilled.

When I reach, the only entrance gate to the court is latched from inside. I ask a couple of boys fielding on this side of the playing area to open the latch and they do so. I enter, put down my pack of balls, my car keys, and my sleek Sony Walkman. I take out the shining yellow ‘Head’ tennis racquet with the flair of a Samurai master taking out his sword from the sheath. I then throw my ball around and rotate my arms, and give impression of preparation as if I am playing a final. (ok, this I do always, nothing special about the day I am mentioning).

Now I survey the scene and find that a few players are fielding in my playing area. I motion them to please get out of my way. This causes stimulation in this large group which comprises players in the age range of 15 to 40. Now my first expectation was that people will accept their folly and accede (ok, I knew deep inside that there would be some friction). But, immediately a couple of men suggest that I play in another practise court. Now there is another court adjacent but it is just not suitable for tennis practise – it is for kids, there are nets in between and the surface is very rough. Genuinely, I did not want to be inflexible, but the other court was just not suitable – it is difficult to get serious when you have cartoon characters laughing on the wall against which you are bouncing balls. So I hold my ground, saying that the other court has poor surface and that I just want one court to play.

Grudgingly the men accede and clear of the space, some of it. So I start. It was not the best way to practise given that there are people all around restricting my playing area (at times stepping into it) and I couldn't play freely. I was always conscious that my shots don't stray. After a few minutes, one gentleman starts to field in my playing area. I ask him to shift out of it. He just shakes his head, and hand gestures ‘f*** off’. I again shout that you have to get off. His mates suggest that he shift a bit but he replies, ‘I am not getting off, this guy should see that he is causing inconvenience. There are 20 people playing and he walks in’. I say I do not care whether there are 20 or 25 of them, I am playing tennis in a tennis court. To which he replies ‘this is a multi-purpose court’. (there is a metal plate screwed on the grill enclosure which reads ‘Tennis Practise (Hard)’). By this time, the more mature men in the group again appeal to me to play in the other court. They say ‘we only play on Sundays’ and I say ‘so do I’. So they continue and I continue. They were civil and mature about the whole thing and kept asking fielders to stay off my playing area. I gave due respect in return, holding off my game whenever anyone entered my side of the court chasing a ball. I spend one hour and decide to call it a day.

Agreeably, I did not have a good practise, I was disturbed mentally and too aware of so many people around me to be able to concentrate. I know that I inconvenienced them as well. So nobody gains. I had a good mind to talk to the administrator who sits at the entrance but he was not there when I was leaving. I know the replies I would have got, and I am not good at sharing a rapport with administrators to ‘get my way’.

Minor incident, but the word which came to my mind about the incident was ‘mob’. Was I wrong? – I say no. Was I imbecile? – I say yes, and I have always been. I can say that had I been in their place, I would have been very apologetic to any person who came to play tennis. I would have been downright embarrassed to each and every tennis player who stepped into the court. I have no issue with those people playing their sport in the wrong place, I just object to their presuming that they are correct and rightful in doing so. And thinking that one person’s stand against many is always wrong.

As I ‘pack my bags’, I see that my Sony Walkman has been smashed. One of the headphone had torn off, the case which housed it was broken, and the wire was scratched. It had been stepped on. I was infuriated, saw the players around and atleast one person was staring at me as I was taking stock of the damage. I thought of taking it up with them, but realised - ‘mob has no face’, nothing will be achieved. So off I go. I assign a very high probability to it being an accident. And blame it on my carelessness that I did not keep my stuff absolutely out of the playing area, so as to prevent any inadvertent damage. I could repair the Walkman almost completely and it is usable – you see, Sony is very sturdy. I am happy.

The Perpetual Itch

It is that time of the year again. When the legs start to itch, when the heart trembles a bit more. It is my seventh Delhi Half Marathon (or ADHM). In the year 2010, a good friend (hereafter referred to as P or Pee, interchangeably) proposed that we participate in the half marathon. I don’t remember how much thought I put into it. I think I jumped right into it. That was a phase when I and Pee were looking for such challenges. Something that fell on the periphery of safe-play and still comfortably far from a real hard challenge. This was our kind of ‘adventure’. Nobody in our circle of sissies does this kind of thing. At the same time, we would have been laughing material for the real adrenaline junkies.

So we both dig in. ADHM is usually held in November and we had taken this call sometime in June. I had been a sporadic jogger since 2003. Now I had to start practising in earnest. I went to the nearest park and the warm-up began. Over the next few months, I worked like a machine, not missing any opportunity to hit-the-park. Day or night, I would be there. At that time, I had built up stamina to be able to jog for one hour continuously. However, my pace was slow, I wanted to build on sustainability and not speed. The logic was simple, if I can jog for 3 hours, the target is done. I was happy with my preparation. One day, I cranked it upto 72 minutes non-stop.

That was the first year of the ritual. The first task is the online registration. After successfully registering, one has to collect the running bib from a designated collection centre. That year, the bib was to be collected from Nehru Park, which was also the starting point. And Pee had warmed me to the idea of a real-treat of goodie bag which comes with the bib. While I was biting hard at the ADHM apple, P was kissed by New Monica. So after deliberations with the doctor, it was settled that he would not participate. That dented my confidence a bit, because he was the reason I was getting into it. Without him, the task looked more daunting given that it was the first time. But his exit opened an opportunity – to use his portable Sony Walkman. The appointed day of bib collection coincided with an ICRA event. Sachin and Siddharth from office joined me. First stop – Pee’s place. He gives me the Walkman and shows me the ropes. He also gives me his registration form. I make my usual poke at his misfortune of not being able to participate. Second stop – bib collection centre. The goodie bag was good. Numerous trivial items. Sachets of skin cream, energy jelly, shampoo, sun-screen, energy bar, small deo etc. Hardly anything was of much use. The more important stuff was the race day booklet. There was so much of information to take in. I read through it carefully. And the timing chip. At that time, it was small coin-like with two long hooks to tie it to the running shoes. Pretty cool.

Expectedly, I was pretty nervous the day before the race day. This year is my seventh and I can contrast how I feel now with what I used to feel then. I had so many questions. So many things to consider. What to wear? What to eat the day before? What to eat in the morning? What all to carry with me? How will I reach the venue? Will I get tired before the run began? How will the facilities be like? How will I come back? Will I survive the entire duration? Will I collapse? Should I gr for broke or give up if I my stamina gives away? I had made it known that I am participating. What if I make a hash of it? I tried to adhere to it all the suggestions/precautions to the best of my abilities. Pee, being as clued in as he usually is, kept giving tips.

My first marathon started from Nehru Park. And dad dropped me in the car. I have never slept well the night before the marathon, more so during my first one. I was very anxious. Doubting if at all I would complete. It was the performance pressure I had built-up, made no less by the loud and public announcement I had done. At the same time I kept thinking 'what the heck'. It is no life changing exam or job interview. Great if I do it, no damage if I do not. I was saying something to this effect to dad in the car on the way to the venue. And as I got off the car, he just asked me to stop and shouted from the open window “harsh, fight it out”. I had never seen him talk like that before and never since. Always the safety first approach. Somehow he said a different thing and that meant so much. I walked through the rush and crowd of entrants at the Nehru Park gate. Inside, the park had become a giant urinal. Guys standing every few meters in front of a bush. I finished my first one in 2.44, running constantly for more than an hour but suffering badly in the latter part. After completing, I collapsed on the Nehru Park ground. It hurt in equal measure whether you stand, sit or lie down. But the whole park was a celebration ground. People of all shades and tones united, by their common experience, by their common achievement. It felt like everybody knew everybody else, because there was one fact to link them all. So much of empathy and concern flows during these events. For me, it was amazing to hear 40+ guys completing in 2 hours.

Since then, I have participated in 5 consecutive ADHM (Pee has participated in 3 out of these 4 – he missed out one year due to ligament tear in the knee – my usual high ground and poke at his fragility). The routine is now drilled and comes easily. The mock seriousness of running each weekend, increasing the tempo as the D-day approaches. And that ‘taking it easy’ during the week before the event. And of course – cutting toe nails, buying snickers for the run, usual eating stuff – banana, orange juice, energy bar etc., planning to reach the venue, checking the shoes, the attire, metro card with some currency banded together, pinning the bib, charging the Walkman (there was an year when I worked hard to download a list of jogging song tracks), serious working-out just before the start (many people have the demeanour of monk-like concentration), feeling of condescension over joggers of lower category than you. And throughout the run, you keep calculating what and how much you eat and drink. Do I go for the energy drink at this junction or next one? Should I go for the next bite of snickers? Should I slow down because I may burn out too fast? Or am I saving too much? You keep trying to hear what your body is saying. Leg cramps, please don’t start. What is the right time for the first stop? There is always the anxiety that you are not going to complete in time. Did you notice the starting time correctly? Are the time runners correct? I keep running the time-speed-distance calculations in my head. Ah, it is all fun!

The biggest fun though is having so many co-runners around. Most of them going through what I am going through. Only these people here would understand the challenge, the pain, the planning etc. You feel you are in one big family – co-passengers in a arduous, pious journey. You feel sympathetic to one who has stopped as you pass him by and you feel challenged by one who has overtaken you or is ahead of you on the other side of the road (there are some who are so far ahead, and you feel ruefully – if only I could). In addition, I feel genuine pleasure to see so many people turn up early morning in Delhi winters just to cheer the runners. Most I believe are there because somebody they know is running. Nevertheless, they cheer everybody relentlessly, and its great to see such compassion. Similar thoughts go for the volunteers or organisers. In India, one is used to seeing someone not doing his job unless there are checks and punishment measures in place. But when I see these volunteers, I wonder why do they serve water/energy drinks/orange, apply pain-relieving spray so tirelessly? I cannot think of any incentive at play apart from enthusiasm and willingness to serve those who are going through an ordeal. (yes, I make it sound like a battle. But then, I and Pee call that stiff/laboured walking in the days after the marathon as our badge of honour, war-wound if you may). All these are the key differences between running alone in preparations and not being able to do more than 5-6 kms and completing those 21 kms. I and Pee have always had the rule of not jogging together – to each his own.

ADHM is like a Diwali. One goes through days of preparation and routine just for a few hours of the final event. But nobody can understand it apart from those who actually participate in it. Not the family – spouse, parents, friends. I am sure my parents think why do I have to go through all this trouble. I have done it a few times. Now move on. But it has become a ritual. One target that is still there. In fact as of now, the only target. In a growing mid-life crisis, it is possibly the only source of sanity.

Over the years, my performance has been stable, something I am proud of, given that I have only got older and un-healthier all this while. However, there have been ups and downs. 2nd and 3rd ones were tough, when during the run, I felt why do I have to do this every year? Not anymore. But the 4th one was the best. When it felt so easy, so effortless. And that was my fastest too. Post- completion routine is also set. You limp around, looking for a vacant patch of grass. Not to rest. Oh no! You exercise, because the warming down routine is important not to have cramps or long term aches. So you do all sort of stretches and squats. Why not – it is well earned. While collecting the medal, I can never help feeling that the volunteers should treat us royally (they do say congrats or well done to each participant). We are like the guests of honour. The refreshment bag, which one consumes slowly. The return journey is always fun. When one returns by metro, it is usually filled with fellow participants. And other riders look at us curiously. You are in shorts in this winter. You are stinking, your face is visibly dirty, layer of dried salt on your forehead and you have this thing pasted on your tee shirt. All the time, you are smirking, beaming inside and saying to yourself ‘stare all you want, but you can never achieve what I have today’, or ‘it is not your cup of tea uncle’.

ADHM has become a parallel existence for me. Throughout the year, I look forward to it. In constantly changing beliefs, allegiances, hobbies, thoughts, targets, ADHM has thus far stood firm. Pee has a big part to play in this. While we have drifted quite a bit since the first ADHM, this point of connection between us has been firm. Possibly the firmest point of connection.

Over the years, I have read a lot on running and on marathons. I have talked to many people about the half marathon. Tried to pass on my wisdom, persuade them (It is not tough at all. Just a bit of preparation. And that you enjoy the preparation), though unsuccessfully. Pee has been more successful in convincing people around him. Almost every year there are new guys from his office participating. And when one sees first-timers do so much better than you, the ego gets pricked a bit. But no, having completed yet another ADHM is an exhilarating feeling. Nothing feels better than those 5 minutes post the finishing line. At that time one feels like everything is achievable. Why not try for full marathon next year? Why not set a bigger target? Of course it is doable.