My Morning Walk

            “Wake up (a)vik, wake up you crazy!”

           

            This is the usual call from my co-walker Anup. He stays just at the opposite block. At 5.30 am, when most people sleep and a few walk or run to reduce their tummies, we follow the latter group. The fat we have gathered during our study in Delhi (actually, during our ‘little’ hangouts in Karim’s, Chawla’s, Nizam’s, Momo Point etc etc), has converted our stomachs into some yet-to-be-named hills. We feel them every day with disgust, when we wear some carefully chosen branded new shirts and most importantly, khaki uniform. Friends, who have flat stomach, smile cunningly. Aur bhaiya! Kuch ghat raha hai kya? And those, who have tummies, generally don’t smile. They advise. Isse kuch nehi hoga bhai! Gym join karna padhega. But they only just advise. They never join gym or they never walk.

           

            We have our own reasons for trying to reduce fat. In my case, it is a simple case of spending time in a qualitative way. After the previous attempt to clear Civil Service Exam went badly wrong, I suddenly find a huge unaccounted time to spend. I have tummy, and I am worried about it. But it is not as problematic as people say. I can live with that, and I can sleep too, even upside down! But as I have said, I have time and above all, I see a dream. A day dream. Running along a sea beach wearing a sexy red colored short with a black colored Labrador following. A pot belly is definitely a low point in this frame. So like a good director, I just want that picture perfect. Anup has a different story. His hill is higher than me and he wants to get married soon. So for creating a greater impression to would-be and for a better performance (!!!), Anup works hard. He walks faster than me. And he sweats.

            My mobile alarm starts ringing sharply at 5 am. After several snoozing, I finally get up when Anup calls me in his enthusiastic voice with his trademark sentence. Wake up (a)vik! Wake up you crazy! I go to toilet, which is in-fact an Indian Styled latrine and start releasing. And then when I look for water to wash that waste, I find an empty bucket. The first bending in morning is the most difficult bending in a day. But I do bend to fill the bucket. Because I have to. And then I have to clean myself in bathroom, have to decide what to wear for the morning walk, have to wear my girlfriend’s gift: a pair of Nike shoes, have to shut the door carefully - as much as silently and of course, have to call my girlfriend to remind her how much I’m missing her right now.

            The last part is always risky and time bound. Anup waits at downstairs. And it takes just 15 seconds to reach there from my second floored apartment. I start calling her when I finish wearing my shoe. She takes some time to pick up the call. I express my feeling in those ‘three words’ with a suffix like babu or shona or baby or something else, depending on mood and availability of time. She replies in some cryptic non-understandable words or better to say, sounds. That may be those three words or sound of kiss or simply snoring, but she hangs up the phone and goes to sleep. I reach the downstairs and say good morning to Anup. This secrecy does not imply that Anup doesn’t know about her. She is in his Facebook friend list. But he simply doesn’t know this Avik, who pretends to control, but in reality is controlled.

            Those who do the morning walk, they know that there are two kinds of walkers. Those who maintain a uniform pace; and rest, who compete others. And as true and ardent students of competitive exams we compete in road too. We try to cross each other, in every possible way. Anup’s loose short flies like flag, and tight shirt wets in sweat. My Nike shoes swing like pendulum. Mechanically, my hands move opposite. We cross the complex gate, turn the corner and reach a place, where Anup first talks. Look at the Bhagawan dada! He is awesome.

            I totally agree. Bhagwan is really cool. He sits all the day on a wall, looking passerby with eyes of a saint. When all his companions are busy with quarreling, barking, sneaking or licking, Bhagwan just watches. Even he has no interest in opposite sex. We have noticed, when three or four males are trying to woo a female on the road, Bhagwan casually sits on the wall and watches with calm eyes, as nothing is touching him. He is a cool dog and he is white. Anup folds hands and bows his head to this awesome creature. I just wave my hand and go ahead.

            We reach to the main road in 5 minutes. This road connects Trichy to Dindigul and more importantly Kodaikanal. Tourist vehicles, buses, trucks, bikes are of plenty. We cross the road and start walking by left side. Just like other Indian roads, footpath is a rare place here. We walk fast. The cars run faster. They horn at just backside. We move further left. Even then, they come dangerously closer to us. Anup says, a nice smooch, and we are dead. I don’t want to get that deadly smooch here; I better get that from my girlfriend! But I remember the sentence; my colleague cum friend cum room partner Shailabh has put in his office PC’s wall paper. Anyway you will die. A masterpiece from Taoism. I feel these words encouraging. I walk faster forgetting deadly smooches and Anup tries to cross me.

            The first person who greets us in our way is the newspaper vendor. He sits with his associates spreading all kind of newspapers to distribute, under the shed of a reputed medical shop. He waves his hand and we reply with the same gesture. A few days ago, I complained about the late distribution of newspapers in our block to him. Nothing happened so far. But sometimes, he enquires about that, probably trying to retain his customers. Moving ahead, we face a sudden 90 degree turn. We adjust our body and without reducing our pace, we cross the turn. Now the road is quite wide and footpath is visible. But we can’t walk on them as they are sandy. So we take the risk. Bear the ghastly horns. We walk on the pitch road. And here happens a beautiful thing.

            National College campus spreads on both sides of the road. But on the left side, new movie posters are stuck on the campus wall. Tamil heroines are popular throughout the country. The sultry poses, seductive smiles and mind blowing beauties of them throughout the wall, are very much eye pleasing. We look left and walk straight. We don’t talk. We don’t stop. I remember Delhi Metro stations and the beautiful girls. I miss them. I am sure, Anup also misses them, for he slows down and I cross him.

            We take a right turn at the end of the road and reach to the Railway Station. We take generally 30 minutes to cover this 3.5 Kms, that means around 7 Kms per hour. My cuff muscles stiffen, shirt becomes wet and I breathe heavy. Anup moves faster here. That does not mean that he is not sweaty or tired. But he is more concerned about the long queue at the corner coffee shop. We take two cups of coffee here everyday. But the line is really long. If we don’t walk fast, we have to stand behind and wait for our turn. Here in Tamilnadu, people love coffee and this coffee shop is a legend here. It keeps open day and night. Passengers, commuters, porters, railway staff, police, RPF everybody throng to this tiny shop. One has to take printed coupon at first, from one window and then has to receive the cup(s) of coffee from another window. The coffee is really tasty. The price is reasonable. While sipping, we start seeing people. People entering station in a hurry, people leaving station in a slow motion, people waiting in reservation hall for tatkal ticket like a still frame, people lying on the floor with dirty luggage, people hastily moving towards the Pay & Use toilet and people sipping coffee around us. We search girls with good face, and if we locate one, we stare like starving child. I admit we do wrong. But, when you have spent your childhood among good looking women and you have dated beautiful girls at college or afterwards; when you have watched plenty of cool dressed girls with cute faces and sexy figures in Delhi Metro stations, say in GTB Nagar or Vishyavidyalaya or Rajeev Chawk, you don’t mind at just innocent staring at good looking girls.

            We take coffee for 10 minutes. Then we start returning. We walk back through the same road. The threat of cars from behind remains same, only the position of sun changes and so our level of sweating. We walk with enthusiasm, now energized by a cup of hot coffee. We walk fast. We compete. We sweat profusely. Anup looks at the Southern Railway Officer’s colony at left side, remembers his own days during position of a Guard. He starts a story. Aapko pata hai dada, mere sath ekbar kya hua tha! Most of them, he has already spoken of. But I listen. I like him talking, so that I can divert my mind from the accumulating pain.

            Sometimes we meet some of ours office staff. They come from the opposite direction riding motorbikes. Customs is written in red font on the number plates. They wave their hands and pass by. We wave our hands and proceed. We again cross the National College, the ground, the Church and we meet another strange creature like Bhagwan on road. Anup has not named him yet. But it walks like king and moves like a confident mafia don. Motor cars, which are the arch enemies of walkers like us, fear it like their nemesis and wait impatiently till it moves on. We laugh within us. A basic human nature. Vengeance of poor! This massive creature has a unique feature. His horns are different. They are not identical. One is vertical, another is totally horizontal. Anup explains, ek se uthayega, dusra me baithayega. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just like this Ox. After all, the enemy of an enemy is a friend.

            We cross the SBI ATM and reach the corner, where we have to turn left, take a narrow street straight to our complex. At this corner, there is a small milk booth. We walk to this shop and ask the shop owner for a ½ litre milk pouch. The owner, a woman, aged around 50, never smiles. She sits like a stone or machine. She hands over a chilled milk pouch. We have decided to pay for it alternatively among us. So if it is my day, I pay. The lady never returns the change; instead she gives coffee pouches of the same amount. Anup takes the milk pouch and instantly he starts playing with it. May be he loves the chillness of the packet or can’t wait to taste it. I put the coffee pouches in my pocket and start walking. As the complex comes near, our pace becomes slower. We see Bhagwan still lying on the wall. We again say hi and Bhagwan ignores us just as a Godman. The Sun starts burning the place. My legs become metal heavy. I seek for bed. I seek rest. And like two chased hungry sweaty pigs, we enter the complex.

            Again we long for coffee, now with pure milk, if the pouch milk can be considered pure! But, where we should make coffee is always debatable. We can go to Ranajit’s apartment, but he may be sleeping. We can go to my apartment, but my two other flat mates may be studying. Or, we can go to Anup’s apartment, but the blood thrusting mosquitos may be waiting for prey. Being at ground floor, Anup’s apartment is the playground for mosquitos. He cheats them by using mosquito net or repellant liquids. But even then, I prefer the last one, because disturbing others may be counterproductive for me. Anup prefers the first option. He believes disturbance is an integral part of the friendship.  Anyhow, we choose the option alternatively, according to situation. Anup turns on the gas. Boils milk. My job is to add sugar and coffee granules proportionately.

            But I do have some time. I go the bathroom for freshen up. I remove all my wet clothes, become naked. I look at my tummy. And my first reaction is, what the hell man? Why it is not reducing?