Poornima Manco

Author

adventure

The Call of a Siren

by

Life is full of its wonders and pitfalls. As a young adult in your mid-20’s, you commence the real journey of your life’s procession. Some are fortunate and exit this decade without anything as much as a blemish. The more fortunate ones will exit with experiences to help protect them against the inevitable misfortunes of the future. The following is one such incident. The lesson learned from this fraction of my life, has served as my moral compass to this day.

As a young adult, having already completed four years of military service and self supported myself through four years of university study, I was inclined to think I knew most everything and all else was probably fallacy. Then, after graduating, I encountered some vulnerable years. During such times you can be prone to making decisions that could unwittingly alter the course of your life. One such incident follows.

Living in a major metropolitan city that flaunts all the trappings of success can leave an ambitious, struggling new graduate feeling ‘lesser than’, thus becoming easy prey to the temptations of fast money.

I received my university degree in Mass Communication/TV production. Shortly after graduating I managed to clench a coveted position in a major television studio as a stage manager for a weekly televised show. It was beguiling, fast-paced and professionally gratifying. However, it was also a position that garnered paltry wages.

While working on the job I was befriended a lovely young co-worker named Andrea. She worked in the Sales and Marketing department for the studio. She was a fusion of style and sophistication, married to talent and ambition. We had a mutual admiration and appreciated the unique quirks in each other.

In time, Andrea and I  became fast and furious friends. We shared the same sense of humour, were equally quick witted and could unleash sparkling repartee upon demand. I’d found my stride on the studio floor and Andrea was surpassing her sales goals. The future seemed favourable. Then… suddenly on a Friday afternoon, a company email was released announcing that our parent company was sold and most positions in the company would be eliminated. Andrea and I would be unemployed soon. We were summarily introduced to the cruel reality of corporate downsizing.

The few remaining weeks were were punctuated with commiseration and angst. Personally I wondered if I would find another job like this, having had such little experience and no contacts in the industry to call upon? Would I be able to maintain my apartment? And what of our fledgling friendship?

Just before our last week with the company Andrea told me she had a proposition to make some quick, easy money. She assured me there would be little or no risk as she had already accomplished the act twice before. To have any details revealed I first had to agree to become the third person in this scheme. I said Ok, count me in and the plan was revealed.

Andrea had a friend named Lynn. They had become very good friends while attending university. They shared similar social backgrounds and both had fathers who were prominent local politicians in their respective cities. Lynn had a middle management job in the wire transfer operations of a bank on the opposite coast. Andrea confided that she had made eight thousand dollars very easily with Lynn’s help. So, “Are you interested in making an extra few thousand dollars with me?” This sounded alluring and rewarding.

I was blinded to the obvious. I was a kid raised in a very traditional, moral, religious family. Never in trouble, not even a traffic ticket; served in the military, supported myself through university but I was blinded to the obvious. As Odysseus, I succumbed to the siren call of my own Calypso and said, “Yes…” and in an instant any obvious criminal implications were obliterated by the prospect of making a few thousand dollars.

The plan would be initiated by Lynn who would issue four bank money orders amounting to seven thousand dollars and then send them via the post to Andrea. Lynn was able to reconcile her sections figures to conceal any amount she decided to take (when I now consider all of the federal crime implications involved, it’s almost paralysing!). Andrea would cash the bank cheques and distribute the proceeds. I was young, vulnerable, too trusting – all for the possibility of a financial windfall. Whenever I began to waver, Andrea would reassure me that everything would proceed seamlessly. She had already accomplished the same deed two weeks prior without any snafus.

Within a few weeks the day arrived and our plan was put into action. Andrea and I were to rendezvous at a cheque cashing office she’d  previously used. She had in her possession five cheques (two for 3 thousand dollars and three for 1 thousand) which she would cash-out over a one week period. I simply had to accompany her to the cheque cashing store and pose as a lookout to get paid. Seemed easy enough. In reality, I was aiding and abetting, amongst other things.

We arrived at the place, trying to look as nonchalant and inconspicuous as possible. Andrea was, as per usual, Vogue chic and even had the movie star dark glasses. I wore a crisp white shirt paired with Levi jeans and a dress jacket. Our amateur attempt to go casually unnoticed… in one of the poorest parts of city! We were certainly not seasoned grifters.

Andrea entered the store alone and I followed soon thereafter. I was situated close to the door, acting as the lookout while waiting for her to conclude the day’s transaction. When she was about sixth in line I experienced an intuition akin to a wobble or a flutter in time. Even though all was serene inside the room, I instinctively felt something was slightly amiss.

By now my senses were highly acute. I thought I could hear a faint buzz of a distant helicopter, however this was a common sound at any given time in major metropolitan areas. I could feel those tentacles of dread and remorse coiling around my limbs. “What am I doing here?” It was at this point the sensation of mild panic began to rise and every one of my senses became more attuned. Then suddenly, the level of intensity rose to alarm. Every molecule in my body was screaming, “IT’S NOW OR NEVER… GET OUT NOW!!” But what to do about Andrea? I couldn’t simply abandon her… How could I warn Andrea without incriminating myself? And, of course, we had no established signal of “abort”!

I wanted to telepathically will Andrea to simply turn and look at my panicking eyes, but with her back to me, her concentration was solely on the act at hand. By now she’d made her way to the window and was initiating the transaction. What choice could I make? How strong was my fidelity to the siren call of Andrea? Could I save the both of us or just myself? All these thoughts and more, poured through my body like molten lead from an erupting volcano, while simultaneously the hovering sound of the helicopter grew closer and closer. I quietly stood up and without any further procrastination exited through that fateful door, thus abandoning Andrea to her fate.

Once outside, as hastily as possible, I had to create as much distance between myself and Andrea and the cheque cashing place. This was when my own harrowing ordeal began to take place. Countless scenarios careened through my mind. What were my options? I dared not run, as I knew for certain this would attract attention from the, by now overhead, hovering helicopter… and I was not going to wait outside whilst the situation unfolded inside… So I steeled myself and extinguished every temptation to panic. I walked away, as calmly as possible, from the building, resisting the temptation to look up at the hovering Medusa. I continued walking calmly towards my freedom.

As I was walking, it occurred to me, that the worker in the cheque cashing place had alerted the police and provided a description of the culprit. I immediately removed my jacket and shirt as I walked. I now wore my jeans and a t-shirt. Then, to my utter horror, I noticed two people walking directly towards me. They were two uniformed policemen dispatched to arrest us. I was in their direct path. Suspecting they already had a description of me, inwardly I became petrified with fear. As they approached me, I thought my my heart was going to explode. Any attempts of evasion would be to no avail. I deliberately walked towards them, all the while imagining  the pitiless grip of steel handcuffs clasping around my wrist. Inconceivably, as we brushed pass one another, I said “Hello” and they smiled and responded in kind. Then, with not so much as a second glance, they continued on their mission.

Now, I walked at a slightly more quickened pace, as I was desperate to put distance between myself and what could have been a horrendous fate. As I slipped around the corner, they entered the building and Andrea was apprehended.

I skulked into a back alley hiding amongst the rats and the rubbish of those giant green trash bins used by the shopping mall stores. All the while I was hearing the whirring of helicopter blades and the piercing blare of the police car sirens on the front side of the building. At that very moment I made a solemn oath to God and myself. I said  … “GOD, IF YOU INTERVENE AND FREE ME FROM THIS MAYHEM, I PROMISE I WILL NEVER EVER SUCCUMB TO THIS SIN AGAIN…”

I remained quivering there until the evening fell and the din of police noise had long dissipated. I eventually summoned the courage to venture out to the nearest public telephone and made the most succinctly urgent call of my life to my best friend. My words were simply this, “It’s me… please come and rescue me. I’m at Grand and Lincoln Street… I’ll explain later and bring a bottle of the strongest alcohol you can find.” He immediately sensed the severity of my situation. My saviour of a best friend was there in 10 minutes and ferried me to the refuge of my home.

As he sat before me in a state of stupefied amazement, I recounted the entire saga step by step. I still don’t know what astounded him more… the astonishing details of my misadventure or the alacrity with which I was consuming straight vodka directly from the bottle… lol. I sheltered in my apartment for five days. During this self-imposed incarceration, every minute of every hour I expected a visit from the police and thanked God when it didn’t come to pass. Eventually, I returned to my daily life. However, things turned out differently for Andrea and Lynn.

Lynn was dismissed from the bank and because the bank didn’t want to court such negative publicity, all charges of local and interstate felonies were dismissed. I had heard, following Andrea’s arrest, she was jailed for a short period of time and released on bail. There followed a court trial, she was found guilty, convicted and later exonerated due to her family’s political connections, and her father’s ability to afford the best attorney in the area. I still harbour a small but nagging sense of having betrayed her.  But, I never spoke with or saw Andrea again.

I wasn’t afforded such family connections or financial indulgences. If I had not listened to my instinct, and but for the grace of God, in all likelihood, I would have been jailed for a number of years and my life would have been forever adversely altered. In reality though, it is altered, as I became a finer, higher quality man.

As I reveal my secret saga, rivers of remorse, betrayal, incredulity wash over me. Why was I too afraid to call out to Andrea and offer her a last chance out? Why did I not see the obvious crimes and consequences associated with this action? Why did I chance my fate at the behest of someone I barely knew?

I am forever thankful that I survived this scandalous lapse of judgement. From that day onward, I believe, anything not generated through honesty, should be avoided at all cost.

My life now is better than I could have ever imagined. I have a wonderful occupation, possessions, homes, and the freedom to travel. All of this would have been inconceivable, had I succumbed to that one stupid and immature decision.

I urge you to Always follow that small voice inside of you that encourages you to never deviate from doing the right thing.

Live well and Love well. Thanks for reading…

XX

 

Because of the subject matter L.H. has chosen to remain anonymous, however, this is him in a nutshell: in late 40’s, in a relationship, starting a property developing business, and still living in a major metropolitan area.

The ghost in the office – Shantanu Saha

by

It was the year 2004, and I had set up my own bootstrapped venture, an Executive Search Firm. Our first office was in a fairly old bungalow in the heart of South Delhi.

I had leased the entire ground floor of this bungalow, spread over an area of 3000 sq. ft. with an additional front lawn and a back courtyard. Outside the house was an old Banyan tree adjacent to the main gate, with aerial pop roots hanging from the branches, giving an eerie look and feel to the whole house. The first floor with terrace had the landlord’s family: a husband, wife, child and his elderly mother.

The ground floor of the house that we occupied had three fairly large rooms with an attached bath in each. There was an even larger drawing and dining area. Doors of some of the washrooms, especially the one in front of the house, tended to make a creaking sound whenever the wind blew. In this place I occupied one room at the back of the house from where I used to work and I had a team of three girls: Raj, Swati & Rupa who would sit and work in the adjacent room. There was also an old chap Kartik who was the office help. His job was to manage the pantry, lay out the lunch, supervise the cleaner who would come once a day and open & close the office.

The business was doing well and all was hunky dory till a series of strange events happened. Initially these were minor things.  A couple of the girls complained that after lunch when they went back to their workstations, all the windows tabs in their computers they had kept open while searching for profiles on job sites, had been closed. Another girl complained that though she had switched off the light and fan switches in their room before coming to the dining hall for lunch, they had all been mysteriously switched on when they went back. I made light of all this and told them that they were getting absent minded. However, after a while, they got it into their heads that this was all down to a ghost. They were also convinced it was a female ghost who was not bothering me but only the girls, as everything happened to them and not to me. I refused to buy into this line of thought.

Then something even more mysterious happened. It was a bright sunny afternoon in the month of June, when one of my team members Swati was discussing something with me in my room. The doorbell rang. In those days we were recruiting for our own team and we used to call candidates over to the office for an interview. The candidate would be attended to by the office boy, given a job application form and after they filled that out, Kartik would bring the candidate’s resumé and form in to me. I would send one of the girls to do the first round of interviews and if they cleared that, I would meet the candidate.

I asked Swati if she could see who the candidate was, as although the drawing room was a little far off, there was a direct line of sight from the place where she was standing in my room. She described that the girl was looking away toward the French windows overlooking the lawn and was wearing high heels and a salwar kameez. She added that she looked smart enough, and that she would meet her once Kartik had got her to finish the formalities. We then went back to our discussion.

After 10 minutes, I suddenly reminded Swati that Kartik had not yet come in with the candidate’s form. She called out and Kartik came in from the back courtyard which had an entry from the room where the girls used to sit and work. We asked him what had happened and why he hadn’t brought in the girl’s form and resumé. He asked – which girl? Swati and I looked at each other. I asked Kartik had he not opened the door when the bell rang? He said he never heard the bell ring and that he was in the back courtyard anyway. We immediately went to the drawing room and there was no one there. I was stunned! I thought I had heard the bell ring and so had Swati. Besides, she had vividly described the girl. We did not know what to make of it.

However, when I discussed  this with Raj and Rupa separately, they speculated that since Swati had recently been through a bereavement and been quite distressed, that maybe she had hallucinated the episode. Although I was not fully convinced, I thought I had what could be the best explanation under the given circumstances.

A few days later, I was talking to the girls in the room where they used to work. All the girls at that time had Personal Computers on which they worked. To ensure an uninterrupted power supply in the event of a power failure, all PC’s had a Battery Backup Device attached to them. While talking to them I walked across to the window in the room where the curtains were a little out of place. I was adjusting the curtain when all of a sudden Swati’s PCs Battery Backup Device started beeping. She looked at me in alarm. I looked at the power plug to which the battery backup device was connected on the wall which was located just below the curtain and I noticed that the switch was off. I told her that maybe the switch had shut off when I was adjusting the curtain and there was nothing to be alarmed about.

That night I was at home when at around 10 pm Swati called and her first question was – ‘Sir, what’s the backup time of the Battery Backup Device?’ At that instant, a shiver ran through me as I realised that the device had, at the very least, a 15 minute backup. It was fairly new, so its in-built alarm would not beep unless it ran out of power. If  by my moving the curtain I had inadvertently switched off the main switch from which the device was drawing power, the beeping sound could not possibly have started that soon. Swati had been working on her machine all morning, and the power backup device had beeped only when I was in the room that afternoon. Both of us realised that no logical explanations were working. She insisted I speak to the landlords about any unnatural deaths in the house.

I briefed the landlord the next day and he said he had no clue why these things were happening. He said that only his father had passed away in this house but, there was no reason why he would be spooking us. It was then that Rupa in my team disclosed some more details about the area where this house was located.

Apparently, just across the road from our house was a 5 star hotel that had been built adjacent to an old graveyard that had been there for centuries. She had worked in that hotel for a short while before she joined our firm. She said that many guests and staff in that hotel had reported hearing eerie screams on the upper floors quite frequently during the night. It had come to such a stage that hotel staff had refused to go to the upper floors late in the night. She also pointed out the Banyan tree outside our office. Banyan trees in India are associated with the God Yama, or the God of Death. The tree is often planted outside villages in India near crematoriums. It is believed to be the abode of ghosts.

Upon hearing all of this, my entire team and I decided that it would be difficult to work from there any more. We frantically searched for an alternate location and within a week shifted out.

I do not know whether the house was truly haunted or not, but our experience there was spooky enough that even now, reminiscing about these incidents sends chills down my spine.

IMG_20190303_202639__01

 

 

Shantanu resides in New Delhi, India and holds a bachelor’s degree in Economics as well as a Master’s degree in Business Administration.

He had a successful Corporate Stint in the Human Resources Function and became a Head  of HR at the age of 25 in a Manufacturing Multinational. He worked in various sectors subsequently as a Head HR, before setting up his own Executive Search Firm in 2004 that now has a presence in multiple cities across India. He is also a guest judge and speaker in various management forums & institutes in India.

He lost his father at the age of ten to a genetic disease that later affected him and his sister as well. He had multiple surgeries and a near death experience and survived to tell the tale both literally and figuratively. He wrote a book on how he overcame the disease describing his whole experience and the same is available on Amazon globally. He unfortunately lost his sister to the disease too.

He is a workaholic, likes traveling, is an amateur photographer, likes reading & writing occasionally, is an exercise freak and also has interests in the areas of Science, Arts and Politics.

He can be reached on :-

Twitter : @ShantanuSaha1

Instagram : @shantanusaha1

Linkedin : https://www.linkedin.com/in/shantanusaha/

His book – “Fight for Life: My Journey from a Fatal Disease to Good Health” is now available for Kindle on Amazon. The Paper back is also available in some countries.

The link for India is: http://www.amazon.in/dp/B014YFEFES

The link for US is: http://amzn.com/B014YFEFES

The link for UK is: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B014YFEFES

Guest blog month

by

I find people endlessly fascinating. Perhaps, that is why my stories centre around people, their motivations and compulsions. However, one does not always need fiction to experience alternate realities. Another person’s life: his journey, her passion, his hobbies, her escape, are all equally intriguing and provide enough fodder for the imagination.

In the spirit of that sentiment, I once again give my blog over to some very engaging people and their stories. The next few weeks will hopefully bring you some interesting insights into what constitutes an alternate lifestyle, being true to oneself and one’s passions, and how sometimes, the only journey one needs to undertake is the one that reconnects you to yourself.

As a blogger, I am always happy to be approached to showcase another person’s work. If you are a blogger who would like a slightly different audience for a change, or if you just like penning random musings, or if you feel strongly about something and need a platform to voice those thoughts, feel free to reach out to me with a sample of your writing, and maybe I could include you in future guest blog months. Comment below with your details and I will get back to you.

I truly believe that the writing community needs to be supportive and nurturing of one another. Our stories may be universal, but our experiences are deeply personal. In sharing them with our readers we attempt to create a bridge of understanding. However, in sharing them amongst ourselves and on our multiple and varied platforms, we start to understand the nuances and subtleties of that which is removed from our own actuality. In our myriad life realities, there is above all, a desire to understand and be understood.

I hope that the stories and articles that follow will take you on their unique journeys and you will come away with a renewed understanding and empathy for your fellow being.

 

A bit of Llama drama

by

“Come on Cluedo…come on boy” I said, tugging vainly at the leash of my eccentric llama. To say I hadn’t envisioned this outcome to my day was an understatement. I had taken many a dog for a walk in my time, but taking a llama for a walk was nothing short of an exercise in patience.

You see, a while ago, in a flash of inspiration I had decided that birthday gifts were passé. What we needed were birthday experiences. So when my younger daughter turned 14, I hunted high and low for something (anything) to do with llamas. She had been obsessed with these funny/cute creatures for a while. So much so, that her sister had even baked her a 13th birthday cake with fondant figures of her getting married to Shawn Mendes (her other obsession) and the entire ceremony being officiated by a llama.

Hence, when I stumbled upon a llama walk, I thought, perfect! Her excitement knew no bounds, and she was ready to go pronto. I had to convince her to hold off, as January is probably not the best month to go tramping through the fields with a 6 foot animal. A bank holiday Monday in May when the sun was shining and the temperature was a balmy 28ºC was. So, we set off at a quarter past nine to arrive in time for our 11am walk with these curious creatures.

Our briefing was done by a soft spoken young chap called Will, and it consisted of how to hold the leash to the llama’s harness: don’t loop it around your wrist because if the llama decides to take off, it can go from nought to 35mph in minutes, and guess what- you’d go with it! Additionally, not to stand behind a llama in case it decided to kick you with its hind legs, and finally not to pat it on it’s head. Anything below the harness was fine.

With all that said, we were handed the leash to our respective llamas. The girls got the gentle giant Nero. We got the perky Cluedo. Perhaps the name should have been a clue to what lay ahead, but truthfully, most of us (except second daughter who was totally clued up on llama facts) were llama novices.

Will led the way, and Nero refused to follow. Nero’s disposition being quite pacifist, he preferred being second, third or last in the queue. Cluedo had no such qualms. He quite happily took the lead, trotting alongside me with a been-there-done-that air. I kept a leash length distance eying him warily.  His gentle demeanour and Bambi lashes put me at ease, and just as I was settling into my pace, he veered to the left and decided to take a five minute grazing break on the lovely grass a hundred metres away from our starting point.

The whole procession of 6 llamas and ten people ground to a halt. I tugged at his leash to no avail. Will looked at me and shrugged. “Yeah, they do that a lot. You may have to be firm with him.” Firm or not, Cluedo took his own sweet time, and when he’d had his fill I had to turn around in a circle to get him back on track.

We trudged on, with Cluedo taking his grass breaks every five minutes and I doing the whole tugging and turning around in a circle routine to get him moving again. Honestly, I felt a bit of a fool, particularly as the rest of the llamas seemed a more sedate lot, content to walk with their partners with little or no drama.

Maybe I just wasn’t very good at this taking a llama for a walk thing. I mean, sure, dogs stopped to sniff and wee in many places during the course of a walk, but goodness, who knew a llama could put away so much grass! I kept trying to catch hubby’s eye to palm the llama off to him, but he was too busy clicking photos, and so, Cluedo and I were stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.

Soon we reached an open field with buttercups that stretched to the horizon, and the tower of a hotel that used to be a convent looming up in the background. Will reached into the back pack of one of the older llamas and pulled out bags of carrots that he handed out to each of us. This was their little treat for the day. A reward for putting up with us pesky humans. He demonstrated feeding them by placing the cut up carrots in the palm of his hand and holding it up to the llama. The llama sniffed and then gently nibbled them up from Will’s hand. Then Will placed a piece of cut up carrot and leaned towards the llama. He wanted us to see what a llama kiss looked like. Of course, animals, much like children, refuse to cooperate at the most opportune times. Christopher, the llama, gave him a dismissive look, and went back to grazing on the grass. After much wheedling on Will’s part, he finally gave in, and took the carrot delicately from his mouth.

I looked at Cluedo, who looked back at me impassively. No, I didn’t think either of us wanted to get that intimate with each other.

“Where do they put it all?” asked a lady in our party.  Llamas have three stomachs,  Will explained, a lot like cows that have four. And even though, they have the grace and the pulchritude of deer, they are more closely related to camels.

These amazing animals are native to South America, and were domesticated and used as pack animals over 4000 years ago by the Peruvian Indians. Llamas are hardy, smart, easy to train and well suited to harsh environments. Their fleece is used in textiles and their wool is warm, light and water repellant. They are social animals that like living in herds, but don’t get on their wrong side or you’ll end up being spat at. In all fairness though, they are more likely to spit at one another in annoyance or a display of machismo.

“When does it all come out?” asked another lady. Right on cue, her llama bent its hind legs and proceeded to display the workings of his intestines. Smart, huh?

An hour into our walk, I was glad to notice I wasn’t the only one encountering difficulties with a recalcitrant llama. Two of the ladies in our party had been dragged through the brambles and shrubberies as their respective llamas enjoyed the sensation of being scratched. I looked at Cluedo and sighed with relief. A greedy llama was better than an itchy one.

Handing the leash over to the husband, I went over to the girls to see how they were getting on. Nero was a dream. Docile as a lamb, he didn’t mind the girls stroking him, dancing with him or doing silly poses. He put up with all of their antics with the patience of an old grandpa.

Another carrot and water break later, we ended up switching llamas. Husband and Nero took off at a stately pace, and daughter number one was left to go around in circles with Cluedo. As we neared the farm, Cluedo’s pit stops increased in frequency till we were lagging so far back to practically lose sight of our group and Will.

“Let’s jog with him” I suggested. I had tried that earlier and he’d responded well to my prompting. Daughter proceeded to put the plan in action. Cluedo jogged a bit and stopped. Then he decided to graze for an inordinately long time. The entire party had reached the top of the hill, and were waiting for us to catch up.

“Come on Cluedo….come on boy!” I urged. Cluedo gave me a disdainful look and kept chewing. A little girl came up to him and offered him a handful of buttercups. He ignored her as well. This was one heckuva stubborn llama. We just had to wait it out.

Finally, in his own good time, Cluedo decided to rejoin the party. As we led him and Nero to their shelters, and handed them over to Will, I felt a pang of sadness. Without meaning to, I had bonded with these lovely llamas. There was something quietly soothing about walking in step with these majestic animals. Although, the Peruvian Indians must have had a few tricks up their sleeves to get anywhere in time with these strong willed mammals.

Our llama adventure over, we picnicked outside, marvelling at the glorious sunshine we had been blessed with. Husband leaned over and said “Babe, don’t take this the wrong way….”

Uh oh!

“You’ve certainly made me experience some strange and wonderful things.”

We smiled at each other and I thought, Well, that’s alright then.

 

 

 

 

 

Comfort Zones

by

Image

I’ve come across this drawing a few places now. Facebook, Instagram, social media seems to love the simple message it conveys. But is the message really that simple? Dig deep and it is a big ask. How many of us are willing to leave our comfort zones? After all, haven’t we earned this space. Haven’t we clawed our way towards what is, essentially, what defines us now?

As children, even as teenagers or young adults, the world is one that glimmers with the promise of new adventures. Our horizons at the time, are ever expanding. There is little or no fear in exploration of the unknown. There is a belief that one can pick oneself up, dust oneself off, and start again. With age, as cynicism sets in, optimism retreats to a lonely corner. We become adept at defining our parameters. We start to cotton wool our nests. Risk taking? What’s that? The extent of one’s adventurous spirit becomes confined to perhaps trying out a new spirit.

Yet, how does one grow unless one moves or gets shoved out, of that comfort zone?

I remember, years ago, being introduced to marathon running by a friend. For a non runner, this seemed to be an insurmountable task. Still, I forced myself to grab the opportunity. I won’t deny that it was a slog. All the hours I put in, the loneliness of running and having just one’s own thoughts for company, the injuries I sustained along the way. Crossing that finish line was one of the best feelings I have ever experienced in my life. The sheer exhilaration of knowing what my body, but more importantly, my mind, could do, has stayed with me all along.And that’s what it’s about.

Learning who you are, what you’re made of and how much you can push yourself.

So try it. A bite at a time, and life will be so much more rewarding at the end of it all.