It’s fun psyching out people – well at least sometimes.
I wanted to run less today. So I thought I would at least run fast, and that I did. Huffing and puffing after doing a (I guess close to) 5k loop in about 20 minutes, I hit the cute little garden close to my guest house so that I could warm down by walking a li’l bit. Once inside, I changed my mind.
I could spot the regulars and some fresh faces. Most of them walked, hardly anyone ran. I wanted all of them to notice me. So I started running. I had run few laps when I noticed that, seeing me, two kids had started running too. Now, this was fun because I loved it when after a while, they totally gave up on me (after about 4 laps). To make them feel further bad about themselves, I kept running and running. At one point of time I could actually hear the fat one in bright blue shirt discussing my number of laps with his younger bro in sheer depression.
Soon I started loving it. People would come to the garden and see me running. They would walk for sometime and see me running. They would soon get tired and stop walking but still see me running. And as they would turn their heads for the last time, standing at the garden gate, about to leave, they would try their best to ignore the existence of the skinny and sweaty guy in dark blue banyan and dull blue shorts who was still running with the same speed and with the same smirk on his face.
There was this uncle in orange shirt. I had already ran for about 25 minutes or so and was planning to stop in another five minutes. Just when I could stop, it struck to me that this orange-shirt had been walking since quite some time and almost every time he had crossed me or I had crossed him, I had noticed something in his eyes. I immediately made it up that he was ‘waiting’ for me to finish. And what a booster it was! The orange shirt had suddenly given me a reason to run till I was dead. He became the centre of my universe. and to never let him see me stop became the only purpose of my life. It was a kick every time I crossed him. I started feeling like the Joker from the Batman, the Mogambo from Mr. India. Nothing in this world seemed to be more appealing than leaving this orange shirt startled, amazed and full of pity for his poor physical fitness when compared to mine. And finally, when he gave up and crashed on a bench, I felt the way Pandavas must have felt after defeating the Kauravas. The purpose of life had been achieved, the ultimate goal attained.
Sometimes it feels awesome to be evil. 🙂