NavDharmyug

Eye of The Tiger I have been athletic but never sports oriented in my life. In between, I had faced my own sins of youth, arrogant decadence of all ills of youth- smoking, drinking, an incandescent  conscience and an unyielding spine,  aggravated further by constant strife between my refusal of all social judgments and an insistence by the world around me to judge me, nevertheless. It hit me, hit me hard. I went down with a feeling that I will never come back again. I remember those bleak days, fourteen years back, when every step taken would be precarious ringing with a hissing fear of death in its sound. I was hit by affairs of the heart, and with that I am not referring to my courtship which culminated with a marriage resulting in excommunication by the society and family. It was odd feeling. It was  unexpectedly  expected. I was told that was to happen, but being an only son, believed that warning from the parents to be hollow. Boy, solid it was, they ...

Writing, I took to when very young. But I am sure, it was more as a solace, a way out, than a reason for joy. I need to commit myself to something to really belong to it. That is the way it is with me. I believe, it is the same was with most me. I cannot proceed with things half-measure. If I do undertake any venture in half-measures, I am sure it will die its own death very soon, and certainly not with a bang, possibly not even with a whimper. When I took to running, I did try to slowly step on the peddle, but could never step beyond the frivolous slow peddling pace. Then one day, much to widespread condemnation, domestic furor, I went out and bought a pair of quite expensive running shoes. I still blush when I remember the embarrassment with which I obtained that for myself. Then went about buying clothes for running, shorts, for the first time anything above the knees. But then, having committed myself to running, I did run. Having reached eleven miles and working toward...