It’s Monday and the day off. Today, at dawn, the sun looked like a smidgen of blush behind clouds.

I made coffee and settled down with the English translation of Fire Bird, written in the Tamil – a lyrical and beautiful book by Perumal Murugan.

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.

The track gang ran way ahead of me today during the mile and 400m repeats.

I could feel this week creeping up on me. But after the first mile, I could feel the energy coming back.

The young boy did alternate rounds and did an amazing job of his training.

This is beginning to feel like a full week after a long time.

The air is still cool early morning this time in April.

The breeze rustled leaves and a loud, arrogant peacock announced his presence from a branch at least forty feet above ground. Its long tail is full and there are peahens everywhere. He’s vying for their attention.

Meanwhile, the young boy is jumping with excitement because Chelsea beat Manchester United at a thrilling game while we were asleep. Cole Palmer has captured his admiration and the young boy is already proclaiming him as the greatest.

I listen about the match – he’s read up on it already – and we promise to watch the highlights together

We run with ease, no pressure at all, just time on feet even as the last couple of kilometres go by faster.

Earlier it was lane ten. Now because of the Garmin track mode limitation, there is no lane ten, so I run in lane nine instead.

On interval days, I run the first lane and love it especially when I’m running with the track gang.

They push me, I push them and of course in general they are so much faster than I am in the short distance.

In lane nine, I’m bothering no one. I’m doing my thing. Time on feet. Sometimes a bit of tempo.

Lane one is performance. Lane nine is out of the way from anyone. Lane one you better make sure you’re running.

I wouldn’t know what to do in those in between lanes.

As the night changed to morning, silvery light shone through clouds; all sorts of clouds filled up space in the sky.

When I reached track, I wasn’t sure how the intervals sets would go. I had pushed myself yesterday on the easy run and I had long intervals today.

Today, without my sister and the young boy, the car felt empty and my mind was full of work thoughts.

I hoped some of the track crew would join me. And they did – Ashwini, Monu and a few others. It was timed intervals and the track folks set off at a pace I couldn’t keep up with, but I stayed at my target pace.

By the last interval, the track folks were spent, and I was feeling good, so I ran a blistering set to complete a very grateful and much needed workout.

Today was time on feet at track. But it seemed like a while since I got a good run in so I ran faster than usual.

When I saw some of the track gang, Monu, Ashwini and others running in formation in lane one, it was too much to resist and I joined them for a few rounds. It certainly got at tempo plus at that point.

Choo-choo train, the young boy called the formation. He had been doing stairs and short interval workouts.

When I finished, the track was teeming with people. Many more than the winter months. Spring had truly arrived with the hustle and bustle of life.

Back on home ground, the month of April starts with a rest day.

The training ahead is essential and exciting.

I woke up to a perfect morning. My sister and I decided to do a short one in the driveway. Today, a combination of altitude and over excitement of the past two days seemed to have caught up with me.

Yet, it was necessary to move. It was cool, quiet and the rest of the folks were asleep. While it was not a Nehru Park Sunday, a Mussoorie Sunday was a dreamy way to end the week.

Later in the day, I visited Doon School to meet my nephew briefly and l was taken in by the beautiful, quiet campus, thinking what wonderful running it would be here.

Tomorrow, I will rest and April should see a semblance of real training.

I was prepared, happily, to take the Saturday off. I had put in the goods for the week.

But, Jayati and Mohan’s place in Mussoorie turned out to be a constant carousel of food, drink, football, Jenga, table tennis, tennis, pool, games, more food, and endless hospitality. And then some.

At a somewhat quiet interlude before lunch, the sharp incline drive proved to be too tempting.

I started with short repetitions, and then longer ones, rounding off twenty five such rounds to complete thirty five intense minutes.

The hot dogs, burgers, shawarmas and such need to be worked off.