Life and its Runs

I ran, for almost everything, the sprint as a kid.
I ran, carefree, the confident run of a teenager.
I ran, with the youthful burst, the runs as a youngster.
Run for that moment, the spontaneous runs.


I remember the primary school runs.
I ran from my house to school bus, many times, the first run of the day.
I ran from school bus to the class, to save sometime to play.
I ran from the class to the playground in interval, exciting tiffin time.
I ran from class to the school bus, the sweetest run of the day.

I remember the game runs.
I ran to avoid the ball, game of pittoo.
I ran to hide, for the police-thief/hide-seek game.
I ran, the dodge run, I ran, the catch run, kho-kho.

I remember the other runs, the runs with spectators.
I ran with a spoon with lemon in mouth, the spoon race.
I ran with a sack around my legs, the sack race.
I ran, simply ran, the ‘running race’.

I remember the once-in a while panic runs, sometimes many more.
I ran home to collect the hall ticket, which I forgot.
I ran to avoid getting caught, stealing Guavas from the garden.
I ran to get through the graveyard way faster, in the dark.
I ran out of my home, to avoid my father, a complaint from school.
I ran after hitting the neighborhood boy, the bully.

I remember the crush runs.
The run, to be standing on the way, she will walk to her tuitions.
The run, to the bus stand, where she boards the bus.
The sudden run, she is in the neighborhood.


I remember the college runs, some daily, some in a while.
I ran, to board the bus, always the moving bus, the pseudo bravado in me.
I ran, not to miss the start of the movie, last minute college bunk plan.
I ran, to avoid the path of my principal, less attendance.
I ran, to reach the faraway park, safe from prying eyes of neighborhood, she was waiting.


Then came the Life’s Run,
The laboured run, no hint of spontaneity.
The pace of Life’s Run, made me forgot the real Run.
I long for the joy of real run, the run for the moment, the air of spontaneity.