MY poem

MY poem

"I did it!" I say, and I also say,
"I am doing it" or "I will do it."
Though the tense shifts its sway
In every tense " I " fit.

But sometimes, by Almighty's grace,
This vain and egotistic mind
Breaks the barrier of time and space
And the actual doer it finds.

Then humbled, it begins to sing,
"It's You!  It's  You!  It's  You!
In everyone and in everything;
The cause and the effect too!"

As long as I have Lord's grace on me
My perspective is divine.
When not,  "I, Myself" rise in "Me"
To claim this poem as "Mine"

--------------------

Stamping a Cycle Singh

Did you know that the Indian Govt. had come out with stamps featuring Sikhs in sports? I didn't know it either. Here is a particular one that I take a fancy to, a Sikh in the cycling sport. The stamp was released in 1990 to commemorate the XI Asian Games. With Spring officially kicked into season yesterday (and we had snow today!) I am raring to hit the road with my bike.

1) If there is a cycle somewhere, then there must be a cycle pump somewhere.
2) If there is a Sardar somewhere, then there must be an angry Sardar somewhere.

Putting the above two together it follows that:
3) If there is a Sardar on a cycle somewhere, then there must be an angry Sardar with a cycle-pump somewhere.

Showing it to be true is Saif Ali Khan captured on the left playing Veer Singh in love with Harleen Kaur in 'Love Aaj Kal'. (Look out for Saif on the vintage bicycle with his lunch box hanging by the handle bar)

Brain Food: Whey to Success

Eating yogurt sweetened with sugar on an exam day before setting of for school was something that none of us three brothers would dare to miss. It brought us luck, we believed. That we did well in school perhaps only served to reinforce our belief in the mythical properties of yogurt. Perhaps, an even stronger reinforcement must have been our memory of the days when we did not eat the customary bowl of yogurt and fared poorly on the test. Conveniently, we didn't attribute the poor performance to our inadequate preparation but to the yogurt that we did not have. It was superstition being internalized.

Mom didn’t know that yogurt is rich in tyrosine, an amino acid that helps produce two neurotransmitters, dopamine and noradrenalin. She didn’t know that tyrosine aids mental alertness and memory retention. But she remembered the days of her childhood when her mother made sure that mom ate yogurt at the very least on the days she had exams. And Mom would have damned herself if she hadn't in turn passed on the successful formula to her children. If yogurt could bolster the chances of her children getting on the honors list, she wasn’t going to leave any stone unturned or any milk in the house uncultured. And were yogurt not ready on an exam day morning -- she usually made it at home -- one of us three brothers would rush to the market nearby and get some for us to have our timely bowlful or spoonful before we pedaled off to school. Yogurt remained a secret ingredient of the recipe of our success in school.

Shining Shards

Sixty seven smiling faces
On the mirror in whole and part;
Sixty seven solemn pieces
Of the mirror or a broken heart?

The Crooked Line

It was a long and crooked line
And all the people in the line
Ended up with long and crooked necks
When they craned them to make those checks
That a person not in line
Should not end up front in line
For they were standing since so long
And it would have been all so wrong
If someone standing not in line
Should get ahead of them in line
While all they who their turns await
Already late, now get more late?
So all the people in the line
Stood in line and saw that the line
Was a line and remained so
Till they were done and free to go.

The Dream That Was Not

Lost in sleep I hear her rise,
Feel her warm lips on my eyes,
A kiss on each, one on my head,
And she steals softly out of bed;
Time stops while out she flies.

A wet towel lies limp on the sink,
A bathrobe hangs damp and pink,
The tub traps some silken hair,
An eau de parfum floats in air,
The shower curtain sports a wink.

She has left herself behind
Several ways she could find
Reminding me she wasn't just a dream,
Even scrawling herself on the steamed
Mirror in my dreaming mind.
          ...............

(Image: Painting by Alyssa Monks, Steamed 64x86, oil on linen, 2009; www.alyssamonks.com)

A Point of View from Balcony

Lounging in the balcony
       Seventh floor from ground,
Above all the cacophony
       With tree-tops to surround,
On higher ground and looking high
I am lost in the evening sky.

Clouds on the dusky screen,
       Birds chirp with Dolby effect;
The breeze too is cool and clean
       The settings are just perfect,
As Nature plays the show for me
And for all those who care to see.

But roof tops on the horizon
       Antennae and water tanks,
Block the view of setting sun
       And cut my note of thanks;
An intermission, it is I find,
That Nature never designed.


It is the handiwork of man
       Who, in trying to emulate
The creator - but never can,
       Realizes it only too late
That with all his intelligent toys
He builds less but more destroys.

Cutting trees and blasting rocks
       A crime each one of us abets,
Making concrete jungle that blocks
       The wind and serene sunsets;
Blue blocked by gray, earth stripped of green,
We experience Nature on the plasma screen.

Concrete pavements, roads tarred,
       Narrow alleys of brick-mortar walls,
A decent view of nature is barred
       For those seated in the lower stalls;
And sky-gazing the flick
They end up with a crick.
.................

stoned

Like a stone
shattering the calmness,
radiating ripples
on the still surface,
a smile skips your face,
and I wonder
what stone
rippled the calm waters of your heart?

The stone enveloped;
Your face -
the still surface,
conceals the bottom.
And I stand by the shore,
longing to dive in
to ripple your face
for the same dimpled smile
and drown myself
in the depths of your heart;
My life fulfilled.

Let me in, let me sink,
shall not make a splash
neither swim.
Open your heart
think me in.

(image from http://prairiepathways.com/)

13.1 Boston: A wise choice?

Hmmm. Did I choose the wrong race for my first half-marathon?

Runners on runnersworld.com and on the 13.1 group on Facebook who say they have been training on the Blue Hills course for the 13.1 Boston this weekend allude to the hilliness of the course. Hills kill me, whether biking or running. 

Most part of the trail I have been training on is flat. Distance wise, I feel okay; I have run 12+ a couple of times last week and, going by those runs, the 13 this Sunday should not present a problem. What raises doubts are  those drops and climbs on the elevation map.

Update: I completed the race in 2:19, a timing nothing to boast about. I was surprised at how strong I felt at the end, which means that there are quite a few minutes in that timing begging to be shaved in the next race. Am and Smee too had fun. They came over the previous evening. Earlier in the day I collected our race packets from Boston and even managed to eke out a bike ride along the race route.  "The reported hills are for real," I later reported to Am and Smee that evening as we sorted through our race bibs, shirts, and timing-chips. Ah well, so be it, we collectively groaned and, wondering if the anticipation of the morn would allow us any sleep, we drifted off to sleep that was partly attributed to the bedtime stories I was telling my nephew in his adjoining room. "We overheard the stories," they confessed.

The race was poorly organized: the aid stations not only ran out of Gatorade but also ran out of cups for water; volunteers served water directly from the gallon containers and runners cupped their palms to drink; the live bands at the promised locations along the route, where were they? The organizers received lot of flak for this race and rightly so. What saved their hide was the beautiful weather and the charming route.  It wasn't a good race for those seeking to better their PR. However, it was the first race for the three of us; we were there to have fun and we sure had loads of it.

Adrift

desires sprout wings
from feathers of whims
with shafts and vanes
of prayers and hymns.
feathered desires,
ice forged on fires.


o'er mountains of future
o'er valleys of past
they soar and glide
no ground too vast
for them to cover; neither a sky too high
for their wings that flap in the blink of an eye.

 
holding together
these feathery things
with air in them
wind beneath their wings
desires drift untethered unpinned;
and I adrift, a feather in the wind.


copyright © musingh

'Salaam' - 'Sat Sri Akal'

"Salaam," the runner wished me as we crossed each other on the trail. The salaam caught me off-guard; I was expecting the customary exchange of a smile and wave I am used to on the trail. Like some others, this runner too, going by my turban, must have mistaken me for a Muslim. The moment was too short for me to articulate a response but the earnest and sincere manner of his greeting was not lost upon my subconscious, which, reflexively, had me smiling and waving back.

Being greeted with some version of "salaam" is not new to me. On these occasions when the busyness of those moments do not allow me time for a conversation, I smile and wave back. "You are simply reinforcing their beliefs that turbaned people are Muslims," a friend confronted me once. I refuse to buy that. May be he is right; but if I have to choose between being a friendly Muslim returning a Salaam or a non-friendly Sikh miffed at being Salaamed, I would prefer the former, especially if I perceive a sincerity in the greeting.

Once, though, I did get a chance for a conversation at Stop & Shop, the grocery store. Standing in line at the check out counter, the person next to me wished me "Salaam Alaikum."

Marathon? Ha ha ... 43 ha ha's to you

Running a marathon is no joke; running 43 marathons in 51 days is definitely not, unless it can be perceived as a joke on the body, in which case, who better than a comedian to pull it off?

Eddie Izzard, a British stand-up comedian, more popularly known for wearing heels than for wearing running shoes, ran 43 marathons in 51 days for charity Sport Relief. What makes it a feat (no point in calling a feat 'remarkable';  isn't a feat by its very nature remarkable?) is that this cross-dressing comic is (or rather was) no athlete, and he trained for just 5-weeks before launching off into a 6-marathons-per-week schedule for 7 weeks.  "The bloke is not an obvious athlete, and thats putting it mildly," read one comment on a website.

Many of you would obviously need no introduction to Eddie Izzard; however, the unfortunate few who have not yet had their funny bone tickled by the double Emmy Award winner can look him up on youtube. This guy is hilarious.

To run or walk more than 26 miles each day is not a joke. There is only so much a body can take. But how many of us even try to assess how much this 'so much' is that we believe our bodies can take? And while the physical aspect of the run is definitely important, even more important is the psychological aspect of this feat, the will-power to get the body on the road, the mental stamina to stay on course and complete each marathon, not  just on an isolated day but each morning, day after day for 51 days. That is what sets his time on the road different from other marathoners. 

What's the significance of the numbers 43 and 51? Well, the numbers translate into 6-marathons per week for 7 weeks. But why 7 weeks? Being mathematically-challenged, I can still understand 52 marathons in a year, which translates into one marathon a week. But why 51 days? May be I am reading too much meaning into something where none exists. Perhaps, it must have been Forrest Gump-like when Eddie must have said, "I'm pretty tired... I think I'll go home now." And it simply happened to be the 43rd marathon on 51st day.

Fauja Singh: World's Oldest Half-Marathoner

Fauja Singh, who is now 99-years old, ran a half-marathon yesterday to become the world's oldest half-marathoner.

He completed the race, ING europe-marathon luxemburg, in 3:32:30 hours on May 15.

However, the star of the event was disappointed that he did not break the record for the fastest half-marathon in the M90 group (the age group of 90 & above). Currently the record is held by the Swedish Victor Burger for running it in 3:21:17 (in Gothenburg, 2002).

Fauja Singh lost 15 minutes due to an error he made on the route: he ran the route of full-marathon for some time before realizing he was on the wrong route and then headed back to the half-marathon route. This error cost him an extra 1-km, resulting in an additional 15 minutes.

The record for the oldest marathoner is held by the Greek Dimitrion Yordanidis, who in 1976 was 98 years old when he ran the 26-mile marathon in 7:33 hours. Fauja Singh is training to break that record and is considering to run the next NYC Marathon by when he would be 100.

And here I am, still groaning from the bicycle crash I had 2 weeks back.  

[Information about this event collected from this source. Pics from BBC and The Guardian]

Wannabe Hero

(This is the first part of the series on heroism that I intend to cover from my reading of "The Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker.)

Human beings have an urge for heroism. They seek to be heroes and are often inspired by others’ acts of heroism. They enact their heroics in the theater of the world and seek recognition of their heroism from the social world they identify with or care most about. Their social world can be large, for example, such as an individual leading an army to war or a doctor fighting global poverty and hunger. Or the social world might even be as small as their own self in which case the heroism becomes very personal and private.

Both, acts of heroism and their recognition are symbolic in nature. As per Becker, each society – nation, religion, etc – can be understood as a hero-system, a set of beliefs and values about what constitutes a hero.

“The fact is that this is what society is and always has been: a symbolic action system, a structure of statuses and roles, customs and rules for behavior, designed to serve as a vehicle for earthly heroism. Each script is somewhat unique, each culture has a different hero system. What the anthropologists call “cultural relativity” is thus really the relativity of hero-systems the world over. But each cultural system is a dramatization of earthly heroics; each system cuts out roles for performances of various degrees of heroism …” [5].

A hero-system could thus differentiate societies. Also, this implies that heroism is performed in different roles – warriors, athletes, philanthropists, scientists - and to various degrees - national or local hero, personal loss or martyrdom. Also, as per Becker, “it does not matter whether the cultural hero-system is magical-religious-primitive or secular-scientific-civilized. It is still a mythical hero-system in which people serve in order to earn a feeling of primary value …” [5]

Heroism can therefore be best understood when examined at both macro and micro level. At the macro (i.e., social) level, we would need to understand how these hero-systems are formed and how they  are sustained/changed over time. At micro (i.e., psychological) level, we would need to understand how  hero-systems influence individual behavior.

At the reflective, self-analytic, psychological level, as per Becker, “the question that becomes then the most important one that man can put to himself is simply this: how conscious is he of what he is doing to earn his feeling of heroism?”

............................................................................................................
Ernest Becker. 1973. The Denial of Death. The Free Press

You got to take chances ...

Watched Eight Under today on TV. The movie had dogs in it and my love (or call it weakness) for dogs ensured that I watched the whole movie, at times even sitting through the ads. Though the movie wasn't the same as Marley & Me (which, each time I watch it reminds me of my black lab I had in India), this one too had its moments.  

In the movie, Jerry with his team of 8 Huskies at a base in New Zealand serves as a guide to a scientist on an expedition to collect a meteorite rock. The weather makes conditions dangerous for the expedition, but the scientist insists on continuing with the expedition: "You got to take chances for the things you care about", he says.  On that journey marred by severe conditions, Jerry, with help from his dogs, twice saves the scientist's life. All make it back to the station; however, both the scientist and Jerry are injured on the journey. So the team evacuates the base and flies back to the US, leaving the 8 dogs behind for lack of room in the plane. Back in the US, Jerry wants to go back to the base to get the dogs but finds no pilot ready to fly him there. Later, a conversation with the person who had raised the 8 dogs intensifies his desire to get to the dogs. "You got to take chances for the things you care about", Jerry insists, packing for the trip. A change of heart sees the scientist and his other 2 team members join him on the expedition. The movie ends with them reaching the dogs and bringing them back.

I am such a sucker for dog movies.

...................................................................................................

A couple of must-watch videos below:

Moustache O'er the Handlebar

"And you should get yourself a helmet", she said looking at my turban. "Also a mirror on your bike".

I nodded. 

I had waved down the cyclist for directions to N-street but was getting more than I had asked for. I am not complaining; she turned out to be the kind of help that I could have only hoped for, not expected. Her concern was refreshing especially after my crash a couple of hours earlier where cars had passed by without stopping to offer help though seeing me fly over my bicycle handlebar. (scroll at the bottom of the post for videos)

Started out as a Beautiful Day

"N-street will take you to Beach street.  How bad is your knee hurt?"

The John Wayne in me replied, "Not so bad." The Woody Allen in me wimped, "It is better I avoid the hills."

"In that case", continued the cycling Samaritan, "you should avoid the Beech St; it has a wicked hill. I will take you around the hill, some rolling hills. Follow me." I did not want to take her away from her ride; she looked like a serious rider, lycra and all, out to have a serious ride, but she ignored my protestations and off we set to the Plaza, me trying to stay with her, the guilt of holding her back overpowering the complaints from my knee, wrist, and ribs.

The day was turning out to be not so bad after all. You almost get killed on the road and people pass you by without stopping; you stop someone just for directions and instead get offered water, energy gels, and are led to the water hole. Life has a knack for balancing itself out at the end of the day.

Operation 'Trail Cleaning'

Weather-wise, the choice of the day for trail cleaning could not have been better. Joined the group of volunteers for cleaning the ARRT (Assabet River Rail Trail). The team started from Lincoln Street, I joined them at Hudson St and completed the section till Fitchburg St, turned back while the fellow volunteer continued, I hope, till Washington St.)

The picture on the right is one I took yesterday when running. However, today was sunny and not a single speck of cloud in the sky, as you can see in the picture below.

Today was Boston Marathon

Today was the 114th Boston Marathon and at least a couple of records were broken. Robert Cheruiyot of Kenya won the men's division (2:05:52) and Teyba Erkesso of Ethiopia won the women's (2:26:11). (trivia: no American man has won the Boston Marathon since 1983.) Cheruiyot, a 21 year old farmer from Kenya took home $150,000 and an additional $25,000 for breaking the record. "I am going to buy some cows," he said. 

The Marriage Cookie

A popular saying in Hindi when translated means:

"Marriage is a cookie of the kind that one who eats it later regrets having eaten it and the one who doesn't eat it also regrets not having eaten it. Therefore, why not eat the cookie and regret it?"

Uh well, if research on marriage is to be trusted, it might call for revising this old adage.

An article in yesterday's issue of NYT discusses some studies on how relationships affect health and physical well-being. In general, researchers have found that:

1. Healthy marital relationships hold the best promise for health and well-being. Married people, on an average, live longer and healthier lives than unmarried people.
2. Unhealthy marital relationships are not good for health and well-being. "Troubled relationships can leave a person far less healthy than if he or she had never married at all  ...  if staying married means living amid constant acrimony, from the point of view of your health, you’re better off out of it".

Upcoming Half-Marathons in Massachusetts

   Following are links to few half-marathon races coming up this year in Massachusetts. I doubt whether I will achieve the fitness and training to run a marathon this year; but I intend to run at least one half-marathon.

• Heartbreak Hill Half-Marathon - May 16, 2010 [Newton]
• Boston's Run to Remember - May 30, 2010 [Boston]
• Worcester Half Marathon - June 13, 2010 [Worcester]
• 13.1 Boston - June 27, 2010 [Boston]
• Boston Athletic Association - October 10, 2010 [Boston]
• Baystate Marathon & Half-Marathon - October 17, 2010 [Lowell]
• Monson Memorial Classic - November 14, 2010 [Monson]

And here is a link to the calendar of events for biking in Massachusetts.