New York, Bombay: my running destinations, my muses...

Bombay was central, had been so from the moment of its creation. The bastard child of a Portuguese – English wedding, and yet the most Indian of Indian cities. In Bombay, all Indias met and merged. In Bombay, too, all India met what-was-not-India, what came across black water to flow into our veins. Everything north of Bombay was North India, everything south of it was the South. To the east lay, India’s east to the west, the world’s West. Bombay was central; all rivers flowed into its human sea. It was an ocean of stories; we were all its narrators and everybody talks at once.”

The Moor’s Last Sigh, Salman Rushdie

I wish I had the lyrical prose of Rushdie to describe Bombay (has a better ring to it than Mumbai). I love Bombay. Among other things, I have discovered running here. I love NY too. NY is the other place where I have run marathons.  In my life, running connects NY and Bombay. There is a lot that is common between New York and Bombay. Both cities run, managed and controlled by immigrants. Both cities buzz with palpable energy. Both cities are full of skyscrapers and are densely populated. Both cities are seeped with immigrant angst and energy. And, in a strange coincidence of history, both cities share their historical lineage to the Anglo-Portuguese couple, Catherine of Braganza and King Charles II.

In the seventeenth century of trade diplomacy, to secure much needed military support from Britain, Portuguese handed Bombay (along with Tangerine; two strong sea-route for British trade) as a dowry to Charles II for a short, dark, ugly Catherine. A few years later, British wrestled NY from Dutch and two boroughs were named Kings and Queens in the honor of Catherine (borough is still known as ‘Queen’) and Charles II (now known as ‘Brooklyn’). Similarities continue when you look at Manhattan and South Bombay. Physically, they are of the same size. They house their respective Central Bank and Stock Exchange. If rats (some eight million of them on the last count) are the scavengers for NY then crows are doing their bit in Bombay.

Coming back to running, New York City Marathon probably ranks as the number one marathon in the world. It is a showpiece marathon event with more than fifty thousand runners, some six-hundred bands playing on the course, two million spectators and millions of TV viewers. In NY marathon, you encounter Queensboro bridge and rolling hills of central park at the fag end. Here in Bombay, you will have Peddar Road climb and then running in the sun at Marine Drive for last 5 kilometers. Bombay Marathon is not in the same league but it’s a home event for many of us. It’s in my backyard. It’s where I discovered the joy of running.

Marathon running has become a common man’s sport. There is no other sport where amateur enthusiast needs to engage with the sport for a long, sustained level like this. Four plus hours of endurance activity is a new endorphin high that we seek from the mundane humdrum of life. And in an ever-crowded calendar that we juggle, it is not a small achievement.

“… many of us spend the vast majority of our lives in a comfortable equilibrium. We’re rarely famished, or freezing, or physically exhausted. We wonder when to upgrade our smartphones, contemplate a second helping of dessert, and ask ourselves if we should run four or five miles tomorrow morning. Faced with a string of superficial decisions, many people become introspective. They begin to question whether their lives are meaningful. At the same time, they sense that meaningfulness comes from the margins of human experiences – that it flowers during the times of great joy, pain, frustration or hardship. For this reason, even those who are privileged feel compelled to court new challenges. Some of us decide on a month without alcohol, or undertake an act of charity, or set out for a ten-kilometer run.”

Adam Alter, The New Yorker

I have always wondered what goes in a runners’ mind? As runners, we go thru myriad emotions. Somewhere I read, there are largely three narratives that are at play. Runners are constantly checking distance, time and speed. At some stage, we start noticing pain (my hip flexor is gone, my stomach churns violently after fourth GU gel, my calf can burst any moment, my knee wobbles uncontrollably). And thru our periphery vision, we notice the crowd, weather, upcoming hill.

I have tried to analyze my own mind during long runs and cycling sessions. There are long stretches where I have zoned out. I have an idea of space, time around me. I can see fellow runners thru my periphery vision but there is a world of my own where I get lost. I have been blank in most of the sessions. Murakami describes it beautifully:

“I ran in a void. Or maybe I should put it the other way: I run in order to acquire a void.”

I have come across another beautiful book on runners. Thomas Gardner came with a very short book of sixty-six pages that had fifty-two entries, one for each week. Gardner has a better voice on emotions that runners feel.

“At some point, in almost every race, you get lost. You open your eyes and realize you’re in trouble. Your heart rate rises, your concentration buckles, and you’re suddenly flailing around inside, with no landmark save for a familiar hatred of yourself and the ego that made you line up and race. You slow down and turn on yourself.”

By Thomas Gardner in Poverty Creek Journal

Psychologists believe there are two kinds of motivations – extrinsic (fame, money) and intrinsic (discipline, spiritualism) and two kinds of well-being – happiness (emotional, momentary) and meaningfulness (life has broad value and purpose). Running is like meditation. It’s a long, tedious, linear motion that you have to carry out for more than four hours. There is an element of spiritual well-being in that long, linear motion. It is about training your mind. It is about not getting bored. It is akin to meditation. Meditation demands that we are present in here and now. Most of our life, we are ruminating about our past success and failures. We are anxious about future. All sports require you to be totally present in the moment. That’s what all training gets reduced to. You try to be alive at every step.

As a human, we follow a basic tenet of avoiding pain. With a simple exercise like running, we go out and embrace pain. Runners indulge in small self-talk. We remind ourselves that pain is good. We try to train our mind to direct our tired body to stay focused and complete the task at hand. We aim for an impossible goal of leaving the pain behind and achieving a fleeting sense of elation. We push thru pain so that we might become a better person.

Yes, it is true that runners also walk around like some fanatic zombies and never tired of talking about their running accomplishment. There is a missionary zeal in trying to recruit non-runners to superior Art of Living – Running.

I have seen runners becoming better humans. Maybe, you can sweat your anger, frustration out on a long run. It has surely happened to me. Over the years, just like other runners, I have become quieter and more disciplined in other parts of life. 

Taylor Swift is right about NY. Similar sentiment can be expressed about running too...

Like any great love

It keeps you guessing

Like any real love

It's ever changing

Like any true love

It drives you crazy

But you know you wouldn't change anything, anything, anything

Welcome to NY (Welcome to Running)

Hope to be back in NY in 2017! Insha-Allah!

References:

http://www.newyorker.com/news/sporting-scene/spiritual-life-long-distance-runner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2ZnQ0FghDw

http://www.britannia.com/history/biographies/catherine_braganza.html

http://www.nytimes.com/1990/10/11/nyregion/here-s-to-queen-catherine-who-gave-queens-a-name.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPfXqstdz_E

https://www.tupelopress.org/product/poverty-creek-journal-lyric-essays/

http://www.runnersworld.com/general-interest/little-running-book-sees-sudden-surge-in-sales

http://www.newyorker.com/news/sporting-scene/how-new-york-city-made-the-modern-marathon

Ikiru (To Live) by Akira Kurosawa

Life is brief

fall in love, maidens

before the crimson bloom

fades from your lips

before the tides of passion

cool within you,

for those of you

who know no tomorrow

Life is brief

fall in love, maidens

before the raven tresses

begin to fade

before the flame in your hearts

flicker and die

for those to whom today

will never return

Gondola no Uta – theme song from Ikiru

Have you ever felt a lump in your throat while watching a film? Has a film ever made you laugh and introspect about life at the same time? Have you ever watched a film that resonates with you on the subject of existential crisis? Have you ever come alive after watching a film?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mLrLHDdXHI 

Ikiru is one of the most humanistic films you will ever watch even though it is about death. It’s a timeless masterpiece. From the very first frame onwards, every scene reminds us of the forbidden subject - death. And yet, paradoxically the film is titled Ikiru – To Live. Kurosawa made Ikiru in 1952, before Seven Samurai but after Rashoman. It was a deadly combination of writers Hashimoto & Oguni, Takashi Shimura (he acted in both Rashomon and Seven Samurai) as the protagonist Kanji Watanabe and Kurosawa as a co-writer, director.

Akira Kurosawa reminds us that we can only truly live when we face imminent death. In the most elegant manner, Ikiru articulates that death can bring crystal clear focus, clarity to the perplexing issue of life. Certainity of death (surprsingly, isn’t its always there?!) can help in jettisoning all the excess baggage we carry. With that new found focus we can deal with what is true, meaningful and therefore beautiful. It is our quest for life – to live - when the death sentence is hanging like the proverbial Damocles sword– that we can start a true meaningful journey. One start living when one knows that one is dying.

  

In the backdrop of Japan coming to life post WWII, the film is about a lowly clerk Kanji Watanabe who is facing imminent death. In the beginning of the film, the narrator introduces us to Watanabe, who is simply passing his life without living it. His spiritual death precceds his existential death in the piles of files in front of him that he dutifully serves for thirty years without taking a single day of leave. It’s a life without passion, purpose or dream. 

A terrified Watanabe in his despair, runs around to find meaning in his last few days. He takes to hedonism. This drunken stupor doesn’t last long and he is not able to resolve the emptiness of his life. He latches on to his younger colleague, Toyo, to be young all over again. Watanabe, thru Toyo, comes to know that his staff has given him a nick name of ‘mummy’ for his cold, lifeless disposition. Toyo is everything that Watanabe wants to be in his life. Her vivaciouness, zest for life, finding meaning in her toy making leave Watanabe further isolated. His officious nature separates him not only from his staff but also from his son.

It is through Kurosawa’s sheer cinematic genius that finally when Watanabe discovers that in his dying days he can still do something meaningful. His face glows and there is a purpose in his steps. And in the backdrop, there is a birthday celebration. It is a poignant moment that reminds us that the birthday celebration comes when we know the true purpose of our life. In one of the most celebrated scene of the film, Watanabe on his last day is shown on a swing in a children’s park that he toils hard to get built over a cesspool (what symbolism!) and the song Gondola na Uto plays. Even after more than 60 years, Ikiru is a satire against an individual buried deep in an inane work life and also against society that robs people from their purpose and forces conformity.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0_hkzCl4nI

In Ikiru, every frame is a work of art - movement of actors, camera placement, editing, background music. Despite the fact that death looms large in this film, the film is imbued with hope. Faced with death, Watanabe looks at the overcast sky and can’t help admiring nature and mutters to himself, how truly beautiful! Kurosawa, thru Ikiru, implores viewers to relook at their life. You will carry a warm glow of hope from this film (I certainly did!). If there is one film that you have to show as a great work of art and a great story, it can safely be Ikiru.

Ain't no sunshine - Life of a Japanese Sarariiman

“When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed to a monstrous vermin.”

Opening line of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis

In the midst of glitzy Ginza, Tokyo I remembered Czech writer Franz Kafka and his book The Metamorphosis. Kafka worked in an insurance company but despised his work. He had a problem in dealing with all authority figures in his life. In The Metamorphosis he talked about ordinary human beings reduced to inconsequential, inconvenient bugs (vermin). His timeless story showed a petrified Gregor Samsa lying buried deep in all of us. Surrounded by neon lights, I remembered my days when I used to work with Panasonic India and abhorred the word Japanese. I was reminded of the feudal nature of Japanese corporate world. Scores of white-collar workers waiting patiently at the crossing reminded me of our existence where we all are cogs in the wheel, unaware of our calling.

Japan is a study in contrast. It offers serene, zen like order and harmony in every space of life – in art, theatre, music and even mundane daily conduct. And at the same time, such steadfast focus on order and harmony quells individuality. It creates pressure, stress to conform to the roles. There is no space to stand outside the line. Pyramidal feudal structure is followed in all walks of life – from corporate life to tea ceremony.

For the longest time, Japan, because of its geographical location, has been shielded from the global tidal wave of change exemplified beautifully in wood block print of The Great Wave by Hokusai. Its island nature allows it to enforce rules on the entire society that may be very difficult to implement in a large country. This has worked so far. In the ever changing landscape of an inter-connected world, where everybody is on mobile phone constantly, how will Japan resist change and keep its cultural mooring is going to be an interesting sociological study.

Japanese ‘salaryman’ (sarariiman, Japanese way of saying it) is the bedrock of their mostly egalitarian white-collar working society. Sarariiman title was/is the status symbol. It signified employment where the organization assumed the role of a father figure providing training, lifetime employment, gradual increase in salary, pension and housing. The system was designed for an economy that would continue to grow and never falter. It demanded only one thing in return -- an utter devotion to the company.

Since the ‘lost decade’, this system is continuously coming under pressure. But there are no easy answers. After cramming in school, university time is considered as fun time before submitting yourself to a professional life of routine and boredom. Colleges do not provide skills to navigate in the new world order. There are number of sarariiman who suffers from utsu (depression). Even now, employees are expected to contribute 80 hours a week (13 hours a day from Monday to Saturday); not take more than 5 days of holiday in a year; not leave the work till seniors are in office; take the last train to home and the first train back to office. Families are supposed to ‘understand’ it as their commitment to the provider. 

Japanese society has found its own unique way of dealing with this kind of sleep deprivation. It’s called inemuri – catching up on sleep in public. You can find people sleeping not only in places like trains, buses, park benches but also in office meetings, classes and serious discussions.  The Japanese have high tolerance for inemuri.

This is just one aspect of Japanese life. There are far too many features of this society to admire and learn. It just happened that I started writing about it first… Will share my admiration in subsequent posts.

Barcelona - Tryst with Spanish Culture

I would know nothing, dream nothing;

Who will teach my non-being

How to be, without striving to be?

                                        Stationary Point, Pablo Neruda

It was a whirlwind tour. We had only four days to grasp Barcelona. At least, I should be able to write about what one must do in Barcelona to understand the history and cultural mooring of the city. Unfortunately, not much to write about restaurants, night-life, not-to-miss-tapas, etc. There is plenty of it available on net and for some strange reasons, it doesn’t appeal much to yours truly.

My first brush with Spanish life was not thru history books. I have no recollection of brutality inflicted by Spanish Inquisition; decimation of a very rich Inca’s civilization by Spanish General, Pizarro; defeat of Spanish Armada; Spanish civil war as a prelude to WWII. In fact, the only Spaniards that I have known and grudgingly admired is Rafael Nadal. He defeated my idol, Roger Federer in fading lights of Wimbledon in 2008 and then reduced him to tears in Australian Open of 2009. Rafa is no ordinary sportsman. This southpaw symbolizes the muscular machismo of Spanish people who have immense belief in their abilities; akin to 168 Conquistadores who massacred 2000 Inca’s soldiers on a single day and captured their king, Atahualpa.

Barcelona is part of Catalonian region and its inhabitants take huge pride in having a different identity. It is not a dialect and in fact Catalonian has a different script. In all conversations in Barcelona, it is difficult to escape the shadow of General Franco and his attempt to erase Catalonian identity.

I try to look for a three-sixty-degree understanding of a new culture or place. I asked few friends for a quick course on Spanish culture. I was advised by well wishers to read Carlos Zafron’s book The Shadow of the Wind and watch Alenjandro Inarritu’s movie Biutiful before embarking on the journey. And in Barcelona, don’t miss Barca playing at Camp Nu and visit to Picasso, Dali museum.

Biutiful is not at all like ZNMD. What Yash Chopra did to Switzerland, ZNMD has done to Spain. It is a part of travel itinerary of all youngsters. ZNMD represents the existential angst of rich urban kids who have never stepped out of JVPD. Compared to ZNMD, there is nothing pretty in Inarritu’s movie but it has all the ingredients of beauty. It has the imprint of life in its full glory. Life of poor dispossessed people marked by all the grime and the dust and a heroic struggle of love (not candy-floss romantic type). There is no winner here. There is no glorious sunrise. There is no long shot swooning over Barcelona. It has intense, brooding look and close-ups of life. It is an out and out Bardem’s movie playing the role of a street hustler, Uxbal.  Hunched shoulders, hands in pockets, weather beaten face – Bardem is intensity personified. It’s a very well shot film. You are held by the scruff of your collar to see the visual poetry of pain. Film will stay with the viewer long after its over. Biutiful shows you the part of the Barcelona that is not on your hop-on-hop-off bus circuit. There is only one scene where silhouette of Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia from the window of a hospital offers a ray of hope.

Fortunately, Zafron’s book is not that intense. It’s a mystery story set in the post WWII war ravaged Barcelona where Daniel’ father takes him to the cemetery of forgotten books. Daniel is allowed to pick up one book. That’s where all the action begins. General Franco and his torture gang is very much there. It has a bit of ever raining romance of Barcelona and its streets. Here mystery unravels at a languid pace.

Zafron has an easy, flowing style of writing. This is a book of books. Book is littered with some fine quotable quotes. Sample this: “Books are mirros: you only see in them what you already have inside you.” And this: “I was raised among books, making invisible friends in pages that seemed cast from dust and whose smell I carry on my hands to this day.” And there are some true classic one liners: “To try to hate is an art one learns with time.” And my favorite one: “…making money isn’t hard in itself. What is hard is to earn it doing something worth devoting one’s life.”

In popular culture, nothing defines Barcelona today more than FC Barcelona and tapas. We were lucky to watch the Catalan derby between Barca and Espanyol. In my wild fantasy, I was hoping for a re-run of a nine year old Tamudazo moment and I waged 10 euros on Espanyol victory. Within 10 minutes of the game, Messi scored a beautiful goal from the top of the box and I surrendered 10 euros to my friend. It was a wise decision as Barca decimated Espanyol that evening 5-0. Stadium scoreboard showed 91,160 fans in the stadium that evening cheering Barca and it was a sight. What must be the feeling for the players to hear 91,000 fans screaming for you.

117 years old FCB is not just a club but it is a representation of Catalonian culture and identity. General Franco favored Real Madrid and FCB became the symbol of Catalonian identity and democratic struggle. Later Dutch legend, Johan Cruyff coached Barca in Total Football and till date remains hero for the city. On match evening, city gets washed in the home team color, blaugrana – blue and granat (claret). Camp Nou is a huge grey concrete slab. It comes alive when Barca fans fills it with sea of blue, claret, yellow color and add a rhythmic unending chant of Barca.

Barca has global following and it represents new identities that are emerging. In the globalized village that we live in, it is not surprising to see national, regional, cultural identities getting mixed up and new identities emerging. That’s where the genius of Barca lies. Magic of Barca’s football helps people forget their worldly miseries. It allows them to be part of the excellence that defines the combined might of Suarez (Uruguayan), Messi (Argentinian) and Neymar (Brazilian). Three South American superstars leading the forward lineup of a Spanish (okay Catalonian) club in itself is a statement of the way world has travelled so far. May be sports offer, for fleeting moment; chance to see an excellence at work.

Picasso and Dali, both proud Catalonians, belong to the new movement of 20^th century where Renaissance was receding; individualism was in air; scientific temperament was much lauded and Freud was making wave. Freud’s journey in sub-conscious gave it respectability and artists all over the world interpreted it in their own way. Freud’s book, The Interpretation of Dreams had profound influence on the surrealism movement.

Picasso along with Braque gave shape to a new art form that got recognized as Cubism. Here painter didn’t paint the image to represent reality. It was a different style where an object was represented through geometric shapes, all placed cohesively together and portray different sides of the object.

Dali was a true avant-garde artist. He was bombastic in his speech and surely in his artistic work too. He was exhibitionist and liked to shock his audience. Dali could be called an art world Mohammad Ali – a genius in his work and a motor mouth too… Sample this Dali speak – “every morning upon awakening I experience a supreme pleasure: that of being Salvador Dali, and I ask myself, wonderstruck, what prodigious thing will he do today, this Salvador Dali.” Dali loved money and unabashedly admitted having a “pure, vertical, mystical, gothic love of cash.” He was prolific and no medium could hold him back. He painted, sculpted, designed jewelry and display windows, and wrote fictions.

The last item on our agenda was Sagrada Familia by Antonio Gaudi, God’s architect. The church is under construction for 130 years and it is estimated that it will finish by 2026. Today the church represents the longest running architecture project on earth. Religion has this great ability to uplift humans from their mundane existence and you can truly aim for heavenly glory. At the same time, it is not easy to escape the history of Spanish Inquisition. Religion (or some tunnel vision interpretation of it) can bring out the beast in humanity.

Gaudi was influenced by nature and tried to bring it to his design. Gaudi said, “Originality is returning to the origin.” In Sagrada Familia, he tried to define straight lines and brought nature to his masterpiece.

So, traveling is fun. Traveling is enriching. Traveling is life changing. I read somewhere…

“With age comes wisdom and with travel comes understanding.” It’s quite true. I promise…