Miles of smiles

No, I am not a Marathon Woman. And I didn''t run. But thousands and thousands of people did. Not for fame. Not for money. Not for a cause. But only because they wanted to be a part of something bigger. They wanted to belong. To feel one with the city they call home. I met so many of them, post-event — cancer survivors, senior citizens, surgeons, social workers, young professionals, fitness freaks, business people, kids.All of them said the same thing, "It made me feel good!" What sort of "goodness" is this? "A sense of community," said a sari-clad, middle-aged housewife, who''d abandoned her customary chappals for that one morning and opted for sneakers. "I spend the entire year doing what I''m supposed to — running the house, running the lives of my family.... This was the first time ever I was running for myself. Just for the sheer pleasure of doing something collectively. That was reason enough."
I heard versions of the story from almost everybody else who ran, jogged or walked last Sunday. A mighty ad-man decided to draw attention to his pet cause (cleanliness in public places) by running with a jhadoo and stopping occasionally to sweep the streets. People yelled out, "Hey jhadoowalla, don''t stop." Different strokes for different folks. Whatever works.
City Marathons are a great way of promoting not just a destination, but its people. The manner in which denizens respond to the challenge reflects the spirit of the place. Sure, there were glitches galore here (arrows pointing in the opposite direction at the starting point itself), but a great start has been made. And the Mumbai Marathon is likely to acquire the same sort of status, a few years down the line, as the New York Marathon or the Sydney one. Forget the prize money (substantial, but not obscene). Forget the fact that foreign marathoners dominated all the way. Just the presence of so many charged-up people willing to get on that road, get jostled, get left behind, maybe even give up after a brave start, made me think of the real marathon — the one we call life. It''s not how far we can travel on that route, but how well we do so.
Watching strangers reaching out to other strangers during the Mumbai Marathon made me wonder how many of us would do the same away from a race-track? Does anybody have the time to stop even for a micro-second these days? What a terrifyingly insular society we are turning into! What do we see when we look ahead — an unending and potentially threatening stretch we are nervous about covering without collapsing mid-way? Or an adventurous route we can''t wait to traverse, with all its potholes and pit falls? We fool ourselves into believing that life is like a silken ribbon we can glide over (if only!). Ideally, we should be ready to say, "What the hell, I''ll give it my best shot regardless."
I heard stories of extraordinary grit, tremendous determination, and the sort of courage one only associates with comic-book heroes. In a city that rarely sees anybody smiling (such are the stress levels), that glorious morning there were miles and miles of smiles. Everybody just looked so happy! Gone were the frowns and growls. Gone too the brusque brush-offs. Instead, people behaved like people should — they greeted one another, they laughed, they hugged. Ah yes — winning was incidental in a metropolis that has no time for losers.
Nobody was a loser that one magical morning. Not even the bystander. What''s a great race without someone to cheer? So, there they were, lining the route, clapping, whistling, yelling, "Bhago Mumbai, bhago."
As for me, I was kicking myself and feeling most left out. Mumbai, the monster mega-city of workaholics, had claimed another victim. You know which one. Pity the Mumbai Marathon happens just once a year. No sweat, guys. Life''s Marathon never stops. Keep running.