Unlike many others, I run alone. There is nothing monkish about it. It might be the contrary actually. It is just that I start later than monks who wake up at 5 am to run. Apart from having someone who sets pace, not sure what running with a partner does. Anyway we are not exactly chatting away while running. Running with someone also entails that your times match with the partner which again is not an easy job. So for all those who have running buddies, congratulations, but I will pass. 

  An Ode to Elegance As we know it is easiest to learn languages as a child. I learnt tennis (as a viewer) much ahead of cricket. We got our first TV in May 1980, a Dyanora B/W. A few weeks later, I happened to see the greatest tennis match before 2008, between a certain Bjorg and McEnroe on the trusted Doordarshan. I still have vague memories of my dad oohing-aahing at critical moments. Cricket followed much later — not until the 1983 cricket world cup. Those initial years of tennis watching took shape of proper fandom when a 17 year lad emerged on the scene in 1985. You can carbon-date a person if they say their favourite sportsperson growing up was Becker. The burst of energy, the vibrancy, the power literally shocked and excited the establishment and the young ones simultaneously, which is a tough thing to do. Sticking posters on walls, staying up late, tracking records etc became a full time extra-curricular activity. Becker slowly faded away at the age of 24–25 and