so much for stimulus-response

Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.

-Isaac Asimov

He tried to read what it said at the back and the tetrapack fell from his hand; empty like. He was dressed in a normal formal pant-shirt with specs n a bag: thin, drab, bookish type. Self-concious – of his clean shoes n all – n just a little too loud. His friend, also sippin juice, was this balding, slightly older, slightly stouter guy. Phone in breast pocket, strap around the neck – u know the type. The tetrapack fell n he didn’t pick it up. Maybe the thought crossed his mind, but he just let it be.

“U think u’re sittin in a ****in dustbin!?!” i wanted to go shout “chuckin stuff around u like that!”

“But getting angry takes away the whole point of the exercise; u want him to realize it's wrong… right?” ishan’s golden words.

I was sitting glaring at him when page arrived with the bun-cheese-omelettes. I’d been waiting for the last 20 minutes: page’d bn in a meeting, not answering his phone, which must’ve been on silent; i’d thought he was asleep in his room. By the time i looked back, they’d left and the guy who helps around the canteen was taking away the plates and juice packs.

“so 10 k it is, rt?”, i started off our ongoing conservation; one has to be patient and persistent.

“but sartu, i can’t run man..”

“o’course u can”

“maybe i’ll just run the 5k n run it fast…”

He took the big ketchup sqeezy out of the bag, smiling. Now that was some forethought! Few things can cheer one up like a big bottle of ketchup.

…

“y’r u so fidgety puttar..?”,asked ishan as i randomly did some dips in between sets, exaggerating the motion.

“just contemplating the joys of running... n i had this epiphany t’day... but nevermind.”

“no no tell us, wat… ?” page joined in, finishing his 10 reps at the squat rack.

“well, there is joy in running, and i don’t wanna ruin it for myself by forcing u guys to run…”

“its just that we’re out of practice.. how bout 5k this time n there’s anyway the 10k next month; we can train for that..” the power of rationality, ishan’s forte.

Still hopping around, “many of us go thru life not realizing wat we are capable of, never realizing our potential…”

Books u’ve read give u the common background to place conservations in. Sam Fussel, the maniac “bodybuilder”, had introduced us to droppin gym lines, complete with the pause and all.

“…everyday, we must answer the one important question: (pause) whether u’re gonna be strong or a fuski.”

“puttar…”

…

So there we were, later that day, steadily pounding the tarmac, slowly challenging ourselves, seein how far we could go. Third day of running. 2, 4.5, n today 7k, with a day each to recover in between; n the day after was the great day: the 10 k.

We started real slow coz it was a big jump from 4.5; i had never, in my life, run that distance (5.6 was the max, that too when we were running regularly) n i wanted to make sure i finish. It was cool n rather dark already. As we approached 5, page took off; he’d run only 5 today. Me n ishan went steady, another small lap of 2 to go. A breeze had started up and we were running at a comfortable pace. For the last 2 k we decided to speed up a bit. I was thoroughly enjoyin myself, feeling liberated. Nothing could make me stop now. I felt like shouting, like smiling, like.. running.

There were a few people walking around, in twos n threes. We took a turn n there were these two guys walkin towards us. We were nearly abreast when i suddenly recognized them as the guys from the canteen. Before i knew what i was doin, i went crashing into the ‘litterin’ dude n sent him reeling. I’m afraid i very nearly knocked him over.

“SORRY” i shouted over my shoulder.

They were too stunned to react.

As was ishan.

Some things are damn hard to explain.