An old man pedalling a heavy cart, his goods covered in white burlap.
A foreigner in a blue t shirt who I’ve never met but I think I know who it could be.
A Sikh man, perhaps seventy or older, has the brightest smile of them all. We have been waving at each other for ten years or more.
Security guards outside embassies. Some gossiping, some looking bored.
A coach and one of his students. This Sunday, they both look older than I remember. But then again I’ve been seeing them since 2007.
The Shanti Path tulips still wave in the wind while hundreds of runners make their way up or down the road. Some I’ve been seeing for more than a decade and a half. Others recently. Things change. As they should.
On the medians, there are football matches. Families stroll about, enjoying the Sunday morning, this place of repose.
Inside Nehru Park, the regular walkers stride purposefully. Dogs look baleful. The roller skating crowd is out in force. The navy has a cross country race. It seems it is to promote health for their families.
I am finishing up with the young boy just as they start their race. He’s done a blistering run – most of it barefooted- and I pack him off.
I carry on with Ashwini, his first time at the Nehru Park environs. It is too crowded this part of Niti Marg and Shanti Path so we take a longer loop on the other side at Nyaya Marg. A couple of hundred metres changes everything. It’s quiet here. The leaves rustle peacefully. Some bikers gather around for their morning ride.
Our pace quickens and then some.
When it’s over, Nehru Park is still teeming. I leave, making my way to have a well deserved coffee at the very lovely Fig at Malcha.
Writing about Running 