Love and the comrades ultra marathon

Love is a many splendored thing

Yesterday, I finished my last long run.  55k in 6:39.

Sitting in my car on the long drive back to mumbai from lonavala today, I was thinking about how the 2016 comrades day will unfold.

It's quite an experience to stand on that start line.

I've run Comrades 7 times and experienced almost everything.  I have finished Comrades and I have not finished Comrades.

I have always finished it with only a few minutes to spare.  

I'm one of those ordinary chaps at the very back end of the race who, on occasion, manages  to do something extraordinary.

But as Comrades nears,  I'm again filled with anxiety.

I don't know if I can finish it or not.  I wish I had more faith.  I'm working on the faith department and such.

For someone like me, at the very back end of the race,  the day really unfolds in segments.

At the start, is a feeling of anxiety mixed with a feeling of satisfaction for having made it to the start line.

It is mixed with pride and a feeling of self esteem for I'm standing in the company of people I consider heroes.

It is also a time of tears.  The tears of gratitude are mixed with a desire to achieve something spectacular and to prove to myself that I'm not just another mundane human but a life force who is significant and who wishes to be someone of consequence.  

I want to be better than I am.  I yearn for greatness.
I want to prove my worth to myself.

Later in the day comes a time when i start to battle against time and the outcome is unknown and uncertain.  It is a time when my brain does calculations of speed and pace and my  heart searches for clues.  Clues which can help reveal how my day will end.

The body and mind reach a deep dark place and I battle against all my weaknesses.   The mind starts thinking that this is futile and hopeless.

The space from 55 km to 75 km is perhaps what it would be like to be stuck in purgatory.
I don't know whether I will go to heaven or hell.

Will I finish or not is a question without any answers.   It is a dark grim expanse of time.

Physically, on the watch face however, Time simply starts to fly.  The seconds minutes and hours start to slip by at an astonishing speed.  The kilometres however have their own agenda and want to keep me in purgatory for as long as possible.

By the time I reach 70k i know more or less if I'm  going to make it.

I have had the experience where it dawns upon me that there is no hope.  There has come a time when math simply clarifies to me that without the help of a bicycle I can't make it to the finish.

At that point a strange sadness descends.  It is with a strange calmness that I accept Defeat !  There is a numbness and an emptiness which I have only otherwise experienced at funerals of loved ones.  Except that in this case, it is mine.

It is defeat blended with a strange sense of gratitude that at least, the struggle is at an end.  I don't have to run anymore.  I don't have to fight my mind and body and this road anymore. Please ! Just take me to slaughter.

And yet, it's not all over.   I know that i will have to grind through the aftermath.  To Get into the bail bus and have my bib cut up is like having my beating heart yanked off my chest.

I know that I will have to sit in that bus for a long time as it goes towards the stadium at a snails pace.  I will have to smell the stink of sorrow and resignation and defeat in that bus.  I know that I will have to walk through the medical area outside the stadium and then enter the stadium like a defeated warrior.

I will have to meet friends walking around with medals around their neck while I  just want to have the earth open up and swallow me.    They show me empathy but it is lost on me.  And then, I have to suffer the excruciatingly long journey home.

But , On the other hand, on many occasions , at 70k,  I've had the experience of knowing that I'm going to finish this race.

The math is in my favour and the body and mind are working.  There seem to be no hidden skeletons in the closets.

A smile forms on my face and my chin stays up.  Every supporter on the road  is cheered at in return, every supporter is shown a victory sign or a "thumps-up" sign or a raised fist in acknowledgement !

Tears flow now as well but they are of a different kind.
I've felt a feeling of pride and a sense of satisfaction: I amount to something.... I've run Comrades.

I want to send a signal to neepa and my children that all is well and I'm on my way.  Do not worry.

It is also a time when I miss my father.

My heart is just filled with gratitude and satisfaction and love and happiness.  I've achieved something awesome.  I am.  I amount to something.

I'm in love with life.

My heart is filled with emotions but words are insufficient to describe them. Words aren't of any help.

Helen Macdonald wrote that it is futile to explain how it feels to be in love by waiving an MRI scan of a lovestruck brain.

I agree that explaining the emotions on the finish line is near impossible.

I accept my inability.  But I don't care if I can't explain the emotions of wearing a comrades medal around my neck.

I want to earn one on May 29th.

Being in love is a many splendored thing.

Never give up without a fight

Never give up without a fight.

The first time I felt a stabbing pain in my abdomen, it was on Jan 3, 2016 and I was running the florida marathon. The pain came in around the 30k mark and it stayed with me for about 2k and then faded.

Over the next two weeks I didn't run much and then I ran the Mumbai marathon on Jan 17th 2016.   I don't remember experiencing pain during that run but the pain kept getting worse whenever I did my gym workouts.    It really hurt when I did my crunches.  It hurt to an extent that I stopped doing crunches.

In February, I started Comrades training and the pain started coming about two hours into my long runs and more specifically on the down hills.

I knew I had to get this checked out.  My general practitioner diagnosed it as a possible hernia and asked me to do a sonagram.

The radiologist had no doubt that I had an inguinal hernia.  He opined that it was a very small tear.

The surgeon at ambani hospital said that I was sitting on a "time-bomb" and wanted me to do the surgery asap.

I told him I want to run a 89km race in the mountains in May  and he said no problem. He opined I will be up and running in one weeks time after the surgery.

Dr Anant Joshi sent me to another surgeon after personally calling the other surgeon and explaining to him that he was sending his friend for consultation.

Dr Anand , the surgeon, explained the problem to me in great detail and said that when there is a hole in a fabric its best to stitch it when the hole is small.  I remembered the stitch-in-time bit but I explained to him that I really wanted to run comrades.

Dr Anand made me lie on the bed and with a pen marked the exact spot where the tear has taken place.   He suggested that if I can protect that spot by applying pressure (example :by wearing compression shorts or a belt) I would be fine.   He said that if I did surgery it would take a minimum of 6 to 8 weeks to be up and running.  After all they would be putting a foreign object (mesh) in my body.   All my personal research on the net had also led me to a similar recovery time frame.  

In my personal opinion the ambani doc just wanted a patient.  Screw the running.  For him that was something to explore at a later date.

Of course I realised that not doing surgery immediately would mean a day to day existence.  

I have to step out on each day's training run not knowing if I will make it through.

I know that in the more than two months of comrades training to follow , if the pain were to increase, it would mean that the tear has increased and I would certainly stop at that point and say goodbye to comrades and get the surgery done.  At that point I would have no regrets for I would have tried my best.   I don't have a death wish.

But I agree with my friend Smita who pointed out that lots of athletes get injured without any notice and I'm actually fortunate that I can at least mentally prepare for that possibility.

I realise that I do have many blessings.

I went public with my injury right after it happened and a lot of well wishers advised rest and recovery. .  That thing about "health being paramount" and such.   I appreciate and am truly grateful for that advice.

At the same time, I truly love this Comrades Ultra Marathon and I want to run it.

I know there will come a day when I willingly decide not to run it.

Today is not that day.

Earlier Today I ran a 51k in lonavala in 6:00 and took a small step towards that Comrades start line.

I ran the 51 km wearing compression shorts and a hernia belt.  

I think that it was the easiest, most controlled, run I've managed to do in the last 9 years.

I also called my homeopath Dr Divya and asked for her help.  She said that she was happy to help and asked to schedule an appointment.

I have this deep desire to be on that road.  
I don't intend to give up on it without a fight.
I will not be beaten into submission without a fight.
I will search for each ray of light.
I will take every possible chance.
This is my life.
I want my heart to be filled with laughter.
This is my life.
I want to delight in it.

"Your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dark submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you."
(A Laughing Heart -  Charles Bukowski)

In search of a lighthouse

In search of a Lighthouse.

Over the last 72 hours. I've had my testicles ( I prefer the word: balls ) pulled, yanked and squeezed in more ways and by more people than my wife  managed in the preceding 20 years.

I was, while they were being yanked, pulled & pushed, asked to lie down and cough and sometimes to stand and cough !

All this was quite traumatic because at the end of all the yanking and coughing, I was told that "I had a protrusion of abdominal-cavity contents through the inguinal canal!"

Which when translated, meant that I had "inguinal hernia."

I was told that there was only one way to sort this out and that was to undergo "surgery".  

Surgery !!!  Surgery which would require 4 to 8 weeks (depending on the surgeon I spoke to ) of recovery time.

When I assimilated this, I realised that I was in an existential crisis !  

I started training for the 89km Comrades ultra marathon (which takes place at the end of May in South Africa ) in all earnestness, on the 1st of February 2016 and now on the night of 29th February 2016, I was coming to the understanding that Comrades training was possibly coming to an end.

If I don't train in March and April and May, to the extent and intensity necessary, I don't think that I can ever finish Comrades.

As I lay in bed last night I was completely devastated.  I felt like the floor below my feet had caved in and I was in a free fall with no safety line.

For the last 7 years, Comrades had been a central unifying idea in my life.    Every day when I woke up in the morning , I knew what I was doing.  

I knew which way to point my ship.
I knew which shore I was aspiring to reach.

The 89 km Comrades ultra marathon has come to define my life.  I am a runner yes, but I am, more specifically, a Comrades runner.

When I ask myself the existential question, " Who am I ?" The answer has always been "I am a Comrades runner"

In my personal opinion , I cannot be defined by my work.   I cannot be defined by education.  I cannot be defined by my relationships. I cannot be defined by the things I own.  In my personal opinion, none of these are intrinsically mine.

For many years now, whenever I closed my eyes and sat in silence and asked myself, "Who am I ?"  The answer has always been, "I am a Comrades runner"

I liked this answer.   I didn't want the other possible answers.  I didn't debate the other possible answers.  I didn't care if this wasn't the correct answer.   This was an answer which I owned.  

I have an overwhelming abundance of blessings but I choose to define myself as a Comrades runner.

As I lay in bed last night. I realised that Comrades will leave me one day.  It will no longer be possible.   I will no longer be on that road between Durban and PMB. It will be beyond my physical ability.

It dawned on me that one day soon, I will no longer be a Comrades runner.   Yes, I will be a once-upon-a-time Comrades runner, but that is only a consolation.   It is not the same.

People will always advice that health is what matters and these other things are irrelevant.  That can and always will be an opinion.
But for me, to be alive and to not be on that road on that particular day wearing my bib # 21548 is not something I had envisioned.   I had not applied my mind to that possibility.

But last night it dawned upon me that as surely as the sun will rise tomorrow, that such a day will come, sooner rather than later.

I felt a sickening emotion in my heart.  I felt lost.  It was as if my life had been wasted because I didn't have an identity.

I don't know who I would be if I am not a comrades runner.

I lay in bed and felt that all my physical strength was gone.  I felt all alone.  I looked inside myself and searched for an answer, "who am I ?"
There wasn't any answer forthcoming.

Over the coming days and weeks and months, I need to sort this out.   I need to find an answer.  I need to find my bearings.   The existential crisis isn't not running Comrades.  The crisis is not knowing who one really Is.

Osho says that if you keep asking the question, who am I, over and over again.  If you meditate upon that question long enough, one day the very question will drop. You will reach a silence and at that point you will reach peace and enlightenment.  

I am very far from that point.   I am, at this point down and dirty and entangled in the passions and pleasures of life very far from the lofty heights of spiritual enlightenment.  

Of course, Osho also says that you can find enlightenment while being completely engrossed in the marketplace of life.
But I'm in no position for that either.

For now, I just want to run Comrades and at the same time begin the process of figuring out a future without Comrades.

For now, I am lost and need a shore to steer myself towards.  

I'm in search of a lighthouse.

The comrades ultra marathon : the possibilities we deny are but the possibilities we ignore!

The comrades ultra marathon : the possibilities we deny are but the possibilities we ignore !

I started training for the 89km Comrades Ultra Marathon last week and at the end of the first week of training wrote a blog titled “Crows and Seagulls”    http://amitdaretorun.blogspot.in/2016/02/crows-and-seagulls.html

I concluded at the end of the blog that since I was a 50 year old with no real athletic ability, I must try and be like the crow who relies on guile, experience and wisdom to get what he wants.  I also concluded that I am not a seagull with the strength, power and grace to accomplish what I want.

I concluded that I will never be able to power up the hills nor glide down the valleys on that road between PMB and Durban.

I concluded that I will never be able to dazzle, I will never be able to astonish. I will never be able to shine.

Yesterday morning, 7 days into the training schedule, I ran some speed intervals and consequently during the day had some mild knee pain.  After having run for 11 years, I feel that I am experienced enough to differentiate between “pain” and “pain”.

I knew that this pain wasn’t heralding the onset of an injury but simply a sign of a well worked out muscle.

But, I believed my own words.  And our words become our reality.  Our words became our acts.
I had after all declared myself to be a crow.

I iced my knee through the rest of day and applied an ointment when I went to bed.

But when the alarm rang earlier today I decided to take rest instead of going for a scheduled run.

The idea to take rest was based not only on fear of an injury but also on laziness.  After all, my aim at Comrades was simply to finish the race in safety with a few minutes to spare.

For a while, as I lay in bed, I focused on my knee and realised that there was no pain.  But then I thought, why take a chance.
Why should I push myself, and chance an injury ?

I’ve spent the whole day today, regretting my decision not to run.  My knee was fine this morning and has remained so during the day.

I realised that I did not go to run simply because I set myself up to achieve little.  I did not want the most I could get, I wanted to get just enough.

I did not aspire to be better than myself.

To rest when tired is reasonable.  To not rest when injured is stupid.  But I didn’t rest for either of those reasons.

I rested because I was happy being a crow.  I did not aspire to be a seagull.

Marsilio Ficino said that, “the possibilities we deny are but the possibilities we ignore.”

“Nothing should be refused, writes Marsilio Ficino; human nature contains all and every one of the levels of creation, from the horrendous forms of the powers of the deep to the hierarchies of divine intelligence described by the mystics; nothing is incredible, nothing is impossible; the possibilities we deny are but the possibilities we ignore.”

“All is possible” wrote Marsilio Ficino.  “All is in doubt” wrote John Donne.

The story of our lives is written by our chosen sentences:  I can do whatever I want or I can do nothing.

So I must choose my words carefully !

Who do I wish to be?
Must I not aspire to greatness?
Must I not aspire to heroism?
Must I not aspire to better than I am?

I love the idea of choosing faith over reason.  I like the idea of romance in seeking heroism.

So today I asked myself the question again : Am I a crow or am a seagull?

Why can I not run a strong and fast Comrades?
Why can I not power up the hills and glide down the valleys?
Why can I not be the athlete I desire to be?
Why can I not stand on the finish line of that great race with the satisfaction that I have left nothing back on that road?

I need to make my own reality.

It all starts with words: Is all possible or is all in doubt?

The cynic in me might insist that at 50 my best is behind me.  The cynic might insist that I'm a crow.
But then what stops me from asking :  Can this old non-athletic crow not aspire to be a seagull?

What stops me from aspiring to be the better than a seagull?

The possibilities we deny are but the possibilities we ignore.

I restart my Comrades training tomorrow.

A credit card, a pizza and a lot of courage.

" A credit card, some Pizza and a lot of courage "

I started running in 2006 and in Jan 2007, I bought what was perhaps my 2nd running related book, The Ultra Marathon Man, written by Dean Karnazes.

Over the years I have read dozens of books about running.  They have educated me and inspired me, motivated me and on occasion even consoled me.   I don't remember most of the books or what exactly each book did for me, but the one book I will never forget is The Ultra Marathon man.  

And that's not even for the whole book.   Just for the first chapter.  

That first chapter is, in my opinion, one of the best chapters I have ever read in any book.   It holds your attention like nothing I have ever read. ( except for some specific parts of the Kama sutra ).

Dean describes his conversation and meeting with a Pizza store manager in the middle of the night because he orders pizza while he runs across Highway 116.   The surprise and amazement with which the pizza man reacts on discovering what Dean is doing is conveyed so brilliantly that it inspired me to be like Dean.  (never going to happen, but hey, must we not aspire ? )

At that point, I had hardly run one marathon but this chapter made me dream of running really long distances.  

It opened up possibilities and made me aware for the first time that such could be done.  

I realised that one can simply run, one can run across cities, one can run across states and one can run across countries !  One can run through the day and one can run through the night.  

All you need is a credit card, someone to deliver Pizza and a whole lot of courage and strength.

Dean inspired me the day I read that first chapter.

It's been many years since that day,  I've managed the credit card and I know that I can manage the pizza.

Courage and strength ?
Those , I'm still working on ! 

Crows and Seagulls

Crows & Seagulls 

I was returning home to Mumbai from Alibaug earlier today by the catamaran and my phone battery died on me.  

This allowed me for a change to sit and do nothing.  

I sat staring out of the window and watching the small ripples on the surface of the water and their silvery reflection.  

I also just sat and watched the seagulls fly around the boat.   

Everytime I see seagulls I think about Jonathan Livingston Seagull and his quest to become enlightened.  

Perfection in flight was his path to self realisation.  

He aspired to reach a stage of perfection when all that was needed to fly from one spot to another was not the physical act of flying but simply the thought !!! 

Quite a few seagulls were flying alongside the boat and I marvelled at their skill.  They flew with so much grace and power and strength. 

I was sitting in the enclosed air conditioned cabin, when a boy standing on the deck outside the cabin, started throwing biscuits to the seagulls.  

Soon, all hell broke loose and dozens of seagulls suddenly appeared and desperately started diving to catch the biscuit piece before it hit the water.   

The skill they displayed was simply awesome.  

The boat was not only moving along at a brisk pace but also moving up and down along with the waves and the boy was throwing biscuits at an angle and I marvelled at the seagull's ability to judge all this in a split second and dive and catch the biscuit,  all the time while it jostled for the right spot amongst the other seagulls in flight.  

Later the boy upped the ante by simply holding the biscuit in his hand.  

Now, it was harder as the seagull had to first align itself perfectly in space and dive in, overcome its fear of the human and at the same time make it own space amongst the dozens of other seagull aiming for the same piece of bread at the same time .   The bird only had a fraction of a second to get hold of the biscuit before the physics of flight took away the opportunity and it had to circle back and try again. 

I noticed that the boy had dropped lots of biscuits on the deck but somehow the seagulls seemed to ignore that.  

They continued their awesome TopGun manoeuvres.  

I simply sat transfixed and marvelled at their strength and speed and grace. 

As we came closer to Mumbai, a half dozen crows started flying alongside the boat.

These crows looked so ordinarily when compared to those beautiful white and grey seagulls. 

I noticed that they didn't fly with the same grace and control with which the seagulls flew. 

Yet, the crows quickly drove the seagulls away.    It seemed that we had now entered the crow's territorial waters and even the seagulls knew this and left without a fight. 

The boy continued to throw the biscuits at the crows but then I noticed that rather than undertake the excruciatingly hard Top-Gun manoeuvres, the crows simply landed on the deck of the ship and started eating the huge amount of biscuits simply lying there. 

I had to admire the crows.  In the next 5 minutes they managed to eat for more biscuits than those seagulls  had in the preceding 45 minutes and yet they had not expended 1/1000th of the energy which those seagulls had expended. 

I started Comrades training earlier this Tuesday.   The Comrades Ultra Marathon is an 89 km race which takes place in South Africa and held on the road between Durban and PMB.  

As I enter the 51st year of my life, I have neither the power, the grace nor the skill of an athlete runner. 

I don't have it now nor did I have it in my youth. 

I'm not the seagull.  

I will never be able to power up the hills nor glide down the valleys on that road between PMB and Durban. 

I will never be able to dazzle, I will never be able to astonish. I will never be able to shine.   

I need to be more like the crow.  

I need to know my limitations and work within them to somehow survive and pick up that medal at the finish line without having to call on my non-existent TopGun skills. 

Sitting in the boat earlier today I realised that the lack of skill does not mean that the crow does not get the biscuit.   

He had something else working for him. 

Sometimes a little bit of experience and wisdom may see one through ! 

Experience I have.  I have been on that road before.  

I now only hope that I have the requisite wisdom in good measure.  

Wisdom to see me though in the days and months of training ahead. 

And then, I hope that the same experience and wisdom will see me through on race day.  

Crows give me hope. 

Here's to the Crows of the World !!! 

  

To bud to bloom and to fade !

To bud, to bloom and to fade

“Like a traveller sailing the Archipelago who sees the luminous mists lift toward evening, and little by little makes out the shore, I begin to discern the profile of my death.”

: Memoirs of Hadrian, Marguerite Yourcera

Neepa (my wife), Aryan (my son) and I brought in 2016 at Captiva Island, Florida while attending my friends daughter’s wedding. Namrata ( my daughter) brought the New Year in with her friends in Dubai.    

This was Aryans first invite to an American wedding.  He loved the quiet ceremony on the seafront, he watched my friend Rick walk down the aisle with his daughter Allison, he heard the words of the Priest and the wedding vows exchanged by Allison and her husband Joseph. 

Aryan later told me, “Dad, in India the priest speaks gibberish and there is so much noise and chaos.  At this ceremony I could hear and understand everything” 

I also took Aryan fishing in the ocean and he caught his first Seatrout within 30 seconds of casting his line.   We caught almost two dozen fishes which we let loose right after reeling them in.  I realised that he has the patience to sit in open waters and wait and ponder and do nothing while waiting for the fish to bite.

On the plane back to India he told me, “Papa we need to go fishing in India”

Before coming back to India, Neepa and I ran the Jacksonville Bank Marathon.  Aryan ran the 5k.  It was a freezing cold day with a slight drizzle and a cold wind.  

The 42.2k started along with the 21.1k and the 5k and shared the first part of the route.  He ran the first 2km slightly behind me before slowing down.  

After finishing his race, he spent the next 4 hours waiting for me to finish.  

The finish was inside a stadium and he waited with his camera to catch me coming in.  By then, he had collected his tote-bag, had 3 glasses of hot chocolate, and 2 bowls of hot soup.   He had used one glass of hot chocolate to defrost his frozen fingers by dipping them into the hot chocolate.  

While we waited for Neepa to finish he told me, “Dad, I could have easily run the 21.1k today”

I love my boy.  He is 14 years old.  

As my plane left the United States, I felt a sense of nostalgia mixed with a sense of melancholy.  

I love the United States.  The 6 years (1987-1992) I spent there were some of the most formative
 years of my life.  I started becoming independent and for the first time understood the merits of hard work and the meaning of meritocracy.    Nobody in America cared which family I came from or what my background was.  If I worked hard and if I got the grades, I was respected and I was promoted.  In those 6 years, I also met people who ended up being my life-long friends. 

When I was young and in my 20’s, I had believed that the possibilities were endless. When I left for India after graduation, I never doubted if I would ever visit the United States again.   I knew I would visit the United States many many times and I have done so.  

This year I will turn 50.  I cannot doubt that most of my life is over.  I must, at the least accept, that more is gone and less is left.

As my plane left the tarmac, I felt that I could no longer know with certainty if I will visit America again.  It made me feel melancholy.

Memoris of Hadrian is a wonderful novel written by Marguerite Yourcena written in the form of a letter by Emperor Hadrian to his successor Marcus Aurelius. 

In the beginning of the letter Hadrian tells Marcus Aurelius that he suffers from a heart ailment and that his death is now near.  

As my plane left the United States, I thought of some of the lines from the novel: 

“This approaching end is not necessarily immediate; I still retire each night with hope to see the morning....To say that my days are numbered signifies nothing: they always were, and are so for all of us.  But uncertainty as to the place, the time, and the manner, which keeps us from distinguishing the goal toward which we continually advance, diminishes for me with the progress of my fatal malady.  

A man may die at any hour, but a sick man knows that he will no longer be alive in ten years’ time.  My margin of doubt is a matter of months, not years.   

The chances of ending by a dagger thrust in the heart or by a fall from a horse are slight indeed; plague seems unlikely, and leprosy appears definitely left behind.    I no longer run the risk of falling on the frontiers, stuck down by a Caledonian axe or pierced by an arrow of the Parths; storms and tempests have failed to seize the occasions offered, and the soothsayer who told me that I should not drown seems to have been right.

I shall die at Tibur or in Rome, or in Naples at the farthest, and a moment’s suffocation will settle the matter.  Shall I be carried off by the tenth of these crises, or the hundredth? That is the only question. 

I'm Like a traveller sailing the Archipelago who sees the luminous mists lift toward evening, and little by little makes out the shore, I begin to discern the profile of my death.”

As I turn 50, I haven’t begun to discern the profile of my death, but I have been thinking about it quite often.   I don’t have an ailment which will be the trigger nor can I predict the sudden accident. 

However, it is the thought of death which is new and vital.  

It is a thought which says that time is fleeting and now the grains of sand in the hour-glass are pouring downwards at a rate which makes the approaching end inevitable, sooner rather than later. 

And although I might feel scared when death approachs, I have no problem with the idea of its inevitability.  

I have lived an awesome and full life.  All my desires have been satisfied in good measure.  I have had more than my fair share of good luck and happiness.    

So now like every parent, I now worry, only for my children.  I would want to stick around, for a bit to protect them.  

Namrata at 19 is well on her way to independence, but to my mind still needs a little  guidance and 
security.  Aryan being 5 years younger than Namrata, needs them in greater measure.  

It may be my mistaken sense of self-importance but I feel need that they need my protection for a few more years.

But there isn’t much one can do.  Life is transient for all.  It is transient for all living beings; for men and for animals, for plants and even for roses.

On the way back from the United States, I watched a wonderful movie on the flight.  A Little Chaos, starring Kate Winslet, Alan Rickman and Jermy Brock.

Many of the characters appearing in the movie are fictional and thus it is not a historically accurate movie but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Sabine de Barra (Kate Winslet) is an unconventional gardener/landscapist who believes that the garden layout need not be too organised and that a little chaos is good.  

She lands an assignment to design a small area in the Versailles gardens for King Louis XIV of France.

What follows is a story of political intrigue in the court and some romance and some chaos. 

The Queen has died and the King is not only grieving but also has lost interest in his mistress the Marquise de Montespan.  (this was a time when a man was allowed to have an official mistress)  

However, what stood out for me was an exchange which takes place when Madame De Barra is first introduced to King Louis by the Marquise (the mistress). 

Madame De Barra offers the King a four-season rose.  This then inspires a conversation between the King and De Barra on the metaphorical nature of the rose and its life cycle.

The King inhales its fragrance.

King Louis: It has a light honest scent.  It is very refreshing, Madam De Barra.  Some other roses are over-scented and overblown.. (He looks at his mistress the Marquise)

De Barra: That fate awaits all roses, sire.

King Louis: Is that so, Madame de Barra?

De Barra: All roses are open to the elements your majesty.  They bud, bloom and fade.

King Louis: Continue, Madame

De Barra: In the garden the rose grows entirely unaware, she follows the pattern of growth, changing naturally from one state to another, in order that future seasons may exist, and although the elements may treat her cruelly, she knows nothing of it, and continues to her end, without judgement on her beauty.  Alas, it is not the same for us.

King Loius: If such a rose could speak, what would she say?

De Barra: She would say, “Yes, I am here, and gave service under nature’s eye, and after me my children will be.  Is there any greater contribution, or more graceful end?

King Louis: A wise rose

King Louis (continues): And what protection can we afford this rose from these harsh elements of change?

De Barra: A little warmth, from the sun, can do wonders for the growth of the rose, your majesty.

I loved this exchange.  It meant a lot to me at that moment of time.  

We are all roses.  We are all destined to bud and bloom and fade.  What we need to learn is to continue to change without judgement to the elements and what they do to us. And have faith that our children will continue after us.

All we need to do is give our children some warmth and allow them their time in the sun.

As Aryan and I sat in the freezing cold and waited for Neepa to finish her marathon, we spoke about a few things.  He told me that he could have easily run a 21.1 half marathon.  

I told him that these marathons were getting harder and harder for me to do.  

However I promised him one thing, “Aryan, I hope to keep running until one day you and I and mom and Namrata finish a marathon together”

What I was really thinking was , “I love you my son, and I wish I can run along with you for as long as you need me "