Kathy's Song

I don't think I will ever, ever tire of listening to this song. It refuses to seep out of me. Even when I had no memory, the song played in my head. How can something as beautiful as this fade away? Thank you Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. For once, just once, can the both of you come together on stage and sing this song? I'll move heaven and earth with my love to listen to you. 

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away

They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

No City for Running

After a 90 minute run walk yesterday, Rajat said I ought to go easy today with 10x3 and a minute of walking between the reps. Because I was up for a good part of last night, I thought a late evening run good. What you see here is what I was up against. Ghastly!

Jogeshwari Vikhroli Link Road in Mumbai

Jogeshwari Vikhroli Link Road in Mumbai

Nobody really gives a rat's backside for pedestrians in Mumbai. And if you're trying to run, the good lord help you. The oncoming traffic hurtles through every which nook and corner. Drivers honk and stare at you in much the same way they would at an alien. Instead of letting you pass by, you get abused for coming in the way of what are technically marked as pedestrian pathways.

You could ask why not hit a park; or someplace quiet? Short answer: Moral policing in this apparently cosmopolitan city. There are three parks around where I stay. Bonus factoid: All of them were built by the local corporator on land marked as no-development zones. His ugly mug plasters entry and exit points to all of these places.  It's his private fiefdom. Opens in the mornings at an hour he thought up appropriate. Stays shut through the day. Opens in the evening for three hours. And people are shooed out of the place post 19:00. Apparently, his morals don't allow young couples holding hands "too late".  Ours is a fragile society, you see.

Then there are treadmills at the gym. I'm not entirely sure if I'm the only one who feels this way. But why do they play loud rubbish that passes off for music to pump the adrenaline? When I run, I just want to run, and be with myself. I don't want to see no beefcakes and other finely crafted specimens doing their shindig.   

To cut a long story short, two reps down the line, my body wasn't screaming for mercy. My lungs were telling me don't stop. We can punish ourselves through this smog for another rep. But this city I love so much told me this ain't no place for running.

Am I being anal? Or am I getting to be a cranky man?