Race against time

While half of Bengaluru was running a marathon, I was racing to make it to my class.

“Sorry, miss, the road is blocked, and you cannot go ahead in your vehicle…” “But I have a class today.

I can’t afford to miss it…” I protested. My dad was in tow, having read much earlier that there would be blockages that day owing to a marathon. Well, I had read of that, too, but I hadn’t quite visualised the “repercussions” of this fact.

My dad comforted me, saying I would still make it in time what with our being, as usual, quite early; we could “walk it” to the venue, he suggested. Mollified by that idea, I made my way striding forward purposefully, as though I was on a Dandi March, with Gandhiji. Most of the way was reasonably clear, though parts of it – where I chose to take a “short cut” through a dhobi ghaat – were a bit regrettably dirty, and all I managed was get my spanking new tan moccasins all mucked up!

As I made my way along, I kept checking the time. I hated being late. After all, as a teacher, if I expounded at length on the importance of punctuality, it was but expected that I should be on time myself! Of course, a part of me was bemused, since while one half of namma ooru Bengaluru was busy running a marathon, I was racing against time to make it to my class, and was, in a manner of speaking, in a race too!

As I neared the venue of my class, I found to my horror that there was a huge power cut in the building. The elevator wasn’t working. I was in a soup!

My class was located on the eighth floor. If I was really so desperate as to make it on time, I would need to climb all eight floors including, of course, one mezzanine. I spent but a fraction of a second thinking and doubting my “prowess.” Yes, only a fraction. Then, I immediately got to work, racing up the stairs and thanking the stars for my choice of shoes for the day – an immensely “walk worthy” pair of flats.

I took the first four floors in style. However, by the time I got to the seventh floor, I was in bad shape and cursed inwardly at my lack of form. Finally, I staggered into class, looking quite bedraggled and sweaty, only to find that except for one student none had turned up! Boy, was I disappointed!

Till date, that remains one of my most memorable “walk of fame” – one that was all the more amusing due to the fact that, in the end, it didn’t serve any purpose. I would have gained more by merely putting in a call to the HQ and querying about the presence of all students in the class the moment I learnt of the marathon being scheduled on the same day as the class.