Nareshbhai dons the Tricolor

I saw the Indian tri-color come dancing towards me, and was interested to find the oldish gentleman donning it stop by for a chat at my biscuit station. He didn’t seem in the slightest bit tired, in fact he was more keen to put on a show for us. He handed me his flag, and assumed the position.






As Nareshbhai went through his routine - which frankly had me a touch worried, since the dear geezer looked like he might injure himself - Subs clicked away and the kids roared in appreciation. He had come exceedingly well prepared – he handed Subs a slip of paper with his address and contact details so she could mail him the pics, and then toodled off to entertain the next group.

[I do have his address details which I’m not keen to make publicly available, but if you’ve got some snaps for him, drop me a note and I’ll send you his particulars.]

In the days to follow I found Nareshbhai featured on the telly, in print and slashed across the internet, and was pleased he got to enjoy his moment in the sun. I never quite figured out what his message was, but that he was wearing the flag was message enough for me.

Familiar Faces in Crowd

While I recognized a bunch of people running the Half, there’s a few who deserve special mention – since they told me they’d be running.

Niki didn't look like he broke a sweat

Niki’s been a runner for more than a few years now. The lad trains like a beast, and has traveled to more than few races in Singapore & Hong Kong. He likes his wine, but stays impeccably fit. Seeing him racing through at the head of the swarm reaffirmed to me why I was on biscuit duty.







Harsha, Niki’s elder brother, who isn’t cut quite as lean, but has been an enthusiast for a while now, strode through shortly after looking good to place well.









Then came young Karts, my dear cousin - a true sportsman in his prime, but the troika of Bacchus, Nick and Sloth had cut him to the quick. Karts trained like hell to put up a good showing, and I’m very proud to say he did just that. Very impressed with his folks as well, who drove along the inside roads to meet him at various points along the race and buoy his spirits.

The surprise package (to me, not her) was young Mtili, who decided to take on the Half, soon after squeezing out a tot. She’s a reasonably fit girl - hits the gym et al, but she doesn’t fit my portrait of the typical Halfer. And yet up she came, trotting happily with broad smile and a hug for the kids. I raised toast to salute the chutzpah of the lass and later that night, drained a few mugs to consummate the sentiment.

Parle Glucose Biscuits

Having been a spectator at a previous marathon, the family had come well prepared. Armed with 12 jumbo packs of Glucose biscuits we lined the street, handing them out to runners as the made their way uphill. Having them stacked on a tray, helped the runners reach for them with ease, and I’m proud to say our group achieved the highest coverage rate amongst all biscuit pushers on the street – the poor sods were holding out them out one at a time. Newbs!!

Grateful runners reach for the biscuit in stride ...

While not quite the same as trotting the Half, handing out the biscuits can be fairly exhilarating as well. I have never had as many people wishing me well, blessing me, thanking me, within the space of 45 mins. Very therapeutic!!

It’s also an interesting experience watching people decide how many biscuits to help themselves to. The cautious lot reach out for just one, the planner types take two for the road, and the hoarders make a monkey grab for a fistful.

The odd lass warbled “Thank you, Uncle” which never fails to get my dander up. I’m under no illusions about having a whole lot spring left in my chicken, but there’s no need to rub it in my face. All I’m requesting ladies, is for you to spare a thought for the young at heart, and please drop the “Uncle.”

The Making of a Reluctant Halfer

Runners smiling to the very end ... brightening up the road.

Watching the last of the half-marathoners stagger up Pedder Rd, I felt the beginnings of a wave of envy course through my frame. What made these moderately fit, sometimes overweight, fine citizens of Mumbai, attempt to complete a 21-km run? What made them smile broadly though desperately tired? What made them believers when I was not?

I was scrounging for doughnuts at Haji Ali and coming up empty handed (I had been misled by a friend into believing they were being handed out), I paused to ponder the day’s goings on. I had spent the morning cheering fellow Mumbaikars along their route, handing out Glucose biscuits, shouting out the odd “Attaboy”, “Keep it up” basking in the warmth of a city glowing with happiness.

The first few halfers to come through were the serious sort, and ran right through with little acknowledgement of the boisterous crowd. I’m charitably assuming they wanted to win, hence the stiff upper lip. The first group amongst the Elite 100 running the Full came through about the same time with paparazzi in tow. They too dispensed with any acknowledgement of surging roadside support, and were gone before we knew it. Blink and miss – not really the kind of show my kids were hoping for.

Within a few minutes though, the glorious middle of the half marathon rode in – a forty five minute period with thousands of runners bunched together. Running for glory, running for pride, running for the city, running for the fans ... it didn’t matter why. They were having a blast, and the crowd was too. Every cheer was returned with a nod or a wave, and the city fed on their enthusiasm to pump up the volume.

I saw a bunch of friends come through in this group – mainly those that told me they’d be running, as it was hard to pick out others crowd who didn’t pre-inform. There was an interesting fellow from Gujarat, who had obviously come well prepared – he handed out chits with his address so people could mail him the snaps.

And finally came the stragglers, who inspired not just this blog, but also a motivated a moderately fit, certainly overweight, citizen of Mumbai, to commit to running the Half next year.