Run to Indie

I get a feeling that the villagers actually look forward to that time in the evening when the crazy Indian, knapsack on his back, goes running past. It is quite a spectacle. I wave out indiscriminately to all that cross my path. Initially it startled quite a few. Now they anticipate it and encourage me on, in Tamil! A father urgently points to the other side of the street as I wave to him. I turn and look, and see his son sitting on his haunches, eyeing me shyly. I manage a wave to him too as I run past. That’s the only encouragement he needs. Soon I have a competitor. I am no match. Soon he tires of my lack of competitive spirit and turns into a lane. I run past a group of young teenaged boys, I hear a comment and all of them break into guffaws. I grin at them and keep going. I can hear a cycle just behind me. And stifled giggles. It trails me for some time and then decides to overtake. Two girls on a bike breeze past me. They can’t stifle their giggles any longer. I say a big hello! And they quickly turn onto a house, laughing. I turn into a lane where a young girl is trying to help her kid sister onto her bike. The kid spots a strange looking man running purposefully towards her and she loses it. She starts screaming and runs around like a headless chicken. (Unfortunate choice of phrase, I know. But ever since a friend used it earlier today in an email it has been running around in my head like a…argh! See what I mean?) Her mother comes running out and gives me a bemused look. I move on. Only to be followed by the little kid’s sister, on her bike, with a friend. They challenge me to a race. This time I decide to show a little more spirit. I give them a stiff challenge. Suddenly they pull over. I realise I am crossing out of the village onto a track that goes through a cashew orchard. I wave to them, grinning at a barrage of questions in Tamil. Maybe they want to set up a race tomorrow.

I love this part of my run. Soft topped track. No risks of impact injuries. Clean air. Dozens of cashew trees on both sides; the ground covered by white sand. Total running bliss. This is the time of the run where I do my thinking. Soon I spy a frail old man on a bike approaching. He dons just a straw hat and a lungi. In one hand he has the catch of the day, a decent sized fish. He is deep in thought as he nears me. I raise my hand and yell, “Vannakam!” He is startled. He instinctively raises his hand to wave back, realises that none of his hands are now holding the bike handle, and fumbles. For a second I think that I have messed things up – but he stabilises, and we cross each other.

Soon I cross the railway track. Now I am on the beach track. Just one more kilometre to go. Another old man; this one is staring at me. I wave. No reply. He looks grumpy. As I cross him he starts running with me. He has an animated gait. He holds a bottle in his hand. He keeps up with me for a few strides. Then he realises that he left one slipper behind. I lose my running mate. I take a turn. I can see the ocean now. This stretch always seems the longest. There is no one here now. The fishermen have all left a little while back. When I reach the beach it is left just for me. I face the lovely ocean. Behind me the sun sets slowly, bathing the world in startling colours. As I step into the water I say,”Indie, I’m here!”