THE RUNNER

The Runner

Maybe God wasn’t looking when John was born.

John was a normal boy. He loved to play. He loved to watch cartoons. Just as any other eight-year old boy. In fact, he was perfectly normal – except for the fact that his left leg was bent. He had been struck down by polio at the early age of one.

John realized his problem only after he went to school. “Why have you got such legs, John?” his friends had asked him. And he couldn’t reply. That night, he went to his mother and asked her about it. His mother took a deep breath and replied, “ Son, you suffered from polio when you were very young. But that doesn’t mean that you should lose heart. You work hard and show your friends that they aren’t superior to you just because you have a bad leg.” And John heeded his mother.

John worked hard on his studies and soon became popular among his teachers. Reading books somehow seemed natural to him. Within a few months, he became the topper in his class. His classmates began envying him. And so they struck at his weakest link – his left leg. “One– legged runner” they would call him in his back. These jibes stuck him as they were meant too. He tried to run fast but alas! he would fall down every other yard. And he would try hard not to cry.

But God had different plans for him.

That night, he went to his father. “Father, do you think I can ever run with my bad leg?” His father looked into his eyes and without the slightest hesitation replied, “Yes, my son, I believe that you can run.”

That day, a new John was born. The old John was weak and full of doubt about his abilities. The new John was physically disabled but mentally very strong. An aura of strength surrounded him. He began to try to run. He would fall but he got up again and again. This falling and getting-up ritual went off for a month and then gradually his falls decreased. After three months, John could be seen running in the neighborhood. His teachers and friends looked in wonder as John began to run quite fast without ever falling.



The annual school-run begun. And, without doubt, John took part. There were about thirty students taking part in it. The participants were divided into two groups – Group A and Group B. The winners from each group would meet each other the next day. John was in Group A.

Group A’s run started. John tore across the tracks passing his bewildered opponents. And to the astonishment of the crowd, John reached his destination much before his opponents. John was the winner of Group A.

Up there, God smiled at John.

Everyone knew who would be the winner from Group B. Ronnie Mcquanzie. He was a champion runner, the winner of the competition for three years continuously. His long and fast legs were far better than his opponents’ were. Ronnie knew that he would have to win the competition – because he was very weak in studies. He was a natural bully sort of boy who, everyone believed, wasn’t expelled from school only because of his running abilities. No one liked him and he didn’t like anyone too.

The shot was fired and Group B’s run started. Ronnie sped across the tracks while his opponents looked on. He easily won the competition. He was just too fast for his opponents. And the crowd knew that they were in for a big match the next day.

The big day finally came. The tracks were ready. So were Ronnie and John. The crowd waited with bated breath to see the competition. Ronnie glanced at his opponent and stood shell-shocked – he saw John’s bent left leg. John was looking intently on the tracks.
And then it started.
On your mark, get set, and Bang! went the gun. Both the runners sprinted across the tracks with tremendous speed. The crowd watched in silence, everyone praying for John. Ronnie began increasing his speed while John began struggling to keep up with him. Ronnie was twenty yards away from glory when one of his feet fell outside his track. He was disqualified and to the crowd’s delight, John became the winner of the annual school-run. There was a tremendous applause for John. The whole stadium erupted in a huge thunder as John lifted the trophy. He had done it !!!

Lying in his bed that night, Ronnie thought about the day’s happenings. No one knew that he had deliberately stepped out of his tracks and no one would ever know. But still a new feeling of happiness was in his heart for he had done a good thing. He knew that John was the deserving winner.


In the next examination, Ronnie, to the amazement of his classmates and teachers, passed in flying colours. Even Ronnie couldn’t believe it. He had, definitely worked harder than before but still he never expected such great marks.

Little did he know that up there, God was smiling at him too.

It was still getting colder

It was still getting colder
A trip to Nathula Pass





“Oh, No!” I thought. This was the third time the current had gone. I knew it would not come before one hour. I was exasperated with the continuous power cuts of Guwahati. I sat down in the comfortable couch besides me, closed my eyes and let my mind drift…

As I looked out of the window of my hotel room in Gangtok, my heart ached. Anyone’s heart would. The weather was too foggy, too wet. The plans of seeing snow maybe dim in this kind of weather. It felt as if you were wrapped up in a white blanket. Nothing was visible. Nothing. Just the fog.

I closed the window and switched on the television. There was nothing to watch I looked around gloomily in our elegant hotel room. My aunt was still in deep slumber. I sat back in a chair and stared at the ceiling. As if that would help to clear the fog!

Suddenly, I realized that someone was knocking outside my door. I opened the door only to find my uncle who told me to dress up quickly. I knew that with my uncle around, who was always energetic and ready, we would go to Nathula Pass. Nothing was going to stop us. Not even the weather.

Within an hour or so, we were all ready with heavy sweaters and jackets and were zooming through the narrow streets of Gangtok. Mr. Dugal and Mr. Deb had also joined us on our trip, acting as guides. Mr. Dugal said that there would be a great chance of seeing snow, as the weather was cold. How I longed to see the snow! How very mistaken I was when I thought that the weather was bad!

We passed over mountains and we felt that we gradually gaining altitude. We could feel the cool breeze in our faces. It was getting colder now. The roads had sharp curves but our driver was expert and didn’t even make one mistake. He felt the curves and rightly didn’t try to test them. God knows what would have happened if he had made a single mistake. Well, I know too – we would have fallen down right from eight thousand feet!
My aunt kept her eyes closed. She was sitting besides the window and was getting psychologically frightened about what might happen. I shifted seats with her. Now, I was in the window seat.

At ten thousand feet, we saw the first snow. We stopped our vehicle and got down to take some snaps and to touch the snow. The snow felt as if it was wet sugar. It was getting colder now. We resumed our journey. The sights were getting magnificent too. Huge mountains with roads around them and beautiful valleys of pines and many other trees greeted our eyes. The cows had fur too! I also caught some glimpses of mountain dogs, which were fully covered with fur. How I longed to be an artist!




It was getting colder now. Temperature was down to about five-ten degrees. The mountains were totally covered with snow now. I looked out of our Mahindra Bolero only to find that the clouds were now beneath us! Isn’t it amazing that we were travelling in a car at a height in which planes travel?

We went past the Tsangu Lake, which was at an altitude of around twelve thousand feet. We proceeded on our journey to Nathula Pass. It was still getting colder. Temperature was now three-four degrees. We had a cup of tea at a place called 17 mile. I suppose it was at an altitude of thirteen thousand feet. There was a blinding wind that was full of powdery snow. Ashok, our driver, wore his sunglasses now as the sunlight glittered in the snow and you couldn’t possibly see anything clearly.

We finally reached Nathula Pass. We were at a height of 14,500 feet! That is about half the height of the Mount Everest. The temperature was the lowest now. Minus Four Degrees! My fingers felt paralyzed in the bitter cold. We went to very close to the Indo-Chinese border. It was about a metre or so from us. There was deep and dangerous snow, which prevented us from going to China. We were given vitamin tablets with some reddish kind of water to drink by the guards there.

There was a conference room right there at the Nathula Pass. Chinese and Indian officials had talks there. We couldn’t resist the temptation of going into the room. It was bound to be warmer than the minus four degrees outside. We went inside the room and were followed by a gust of powdery white snow. It reminded me of the cold air that comes out when we open the freezer door of our refrigerator. Here the only difference was that we felt as if we were the ones inside the freezer! After staying in the snowy mountains and looking around for a few minutes, we returned to our vehicle to proceed back to our hotel room in Gangtok with wonderful memories imprinted in our minds. The soft snow of the mountains had made a soft corner for itself in our hearts.

Suddenly a light flickered on. I opened my eyes. The current was back. I had spent the last hour thinking about that memorable trip. I touched my forehead. Not a drop of sweat. Not even a single drop. Then I reasoned, how could I sweat when it was still getting colder, when it was still minus four degrees! I switched off the light of my study-room and walked out with some wonderful cold memories still lingering on my mind.

Undead Souls

Undead Souls

In the times when hands were the machines in the towns, there existed many unusual and superstitious customs and traditions. In the forlorn villages near the sanctuary of Kaziranga, the story was not different. The customs of the tribals were unique. Death, it seemed, was their main enemy. An unknown devil – that’s what the tribals called it. They feared death like anything. Therefore, the lifeless shells of the dead men were brutally cut into pieces before burying them in the earth. There were no rituals. There were no prayers and there wasn’t any remorse for the departed soul. Only a big rock was put up to mark the place of burial.

Today Kaziranga is quite a modern town. All the facilities are available. The age-old traditional customs had lost their original dreadfulness and there were temples and proper burial grounds now. I had the opportunity to visit the place in recent times for a conference was being held there. The journey to Kaziranga from the capital city of Guwahati was uneventful and boring. But the stay was not so.

Being the peak time in view of tourism, the hotels were all booked and there was a lot of problem getting a good hotel. We were three families there – mine, Raja’s and Rahul’s. After prolonged search for hotels and cottages, at last we managed to get three nice little cottages that looked quite newly constructed and decided to stay there for the night. The three cottages were adjacent to each other and the only thing un-picturesque were the two rocks that stood between two of the cottages in which Raja’s and Rahul’s families were living. Early next morning, I had to go to the conference with my friends and our wives stayed alone in the cottages. It was then that the trouble started in Raja’s cottage.

The wind was blowing fast and the trees, which surrounded the cottages, were making a eerie sound. Raja’s wife, Rachel, was reading a novel. A faint distinct rap on the window made her look up. She thought perhaps her husband had returned early. However, there was no one. She thought it must be someone playing a prank. But then again, she heard the knock on the window. She was alone and so she got a little afraid. She got up to see if anyone was hiding behind the wall. There was no one. This time she heard the rap on the window even when she was looking straight into the pane. There was no one. Just the knocking on the glass and herself. She opened her mouth to scream. But no sound came out. She was terrified of the shadow of a man which stood in contrast to the sunny ground behind the cottage. She was afraid because she could not see the man – she could only see the shadow knocking on the window.

Then there was the second incident. We had returned from the conference late at night. There was a cocktail party and so my friends and me got a little late walking alone from the conference hall. We were very tired and went to our respective cottages. It was then that Rahul had a nightmarish experience. Rahul’s wife, Seema, was watching TV late into the night while Rahul was giving out his monotonous sonic blasts from his quivering nose. Then the whole cottage gave a violent shudder. Earthquake, she thought, and went to wake up Rahul. He woke up shaking to the second rumble. He and Seema ran out. But everything was silent. There were no more shudders. They laughed at each other for being so panicky. And went inside to have a good night’s sleep. Rahul thought that he must have had a trifle more of the cocktail than he should have. But then his thoughts were given an assurance. There was a loud shattering of the window panes overlooking the two big rocks. And he knew that his drinking had nothing to do with it.

I learned about these incidents in the bus during our return journey. I told Rahul that there wasn’t any earthquake the previous night. I reasoned with them – what could it have been? The knocking on the window pane might have been the misguided venture of a lone lady’s suspicious mind. Perhaps there had been an earthquake which I was too sleepy to notice. Perhaps some wild mongoose had broken the pane. Or maybe, as the old tribal conductor of the bus told me later with a wily grin on his wrinkled face, the two big rocks between the cottages had something to do with it.