When we were young my twin brother Ravi and I enjoyed racing up and down. We were both good sprinters, though I lacked the stamina to maintain the burst of energy that took me to my top speed. Ravi was really fast and had an economical style of running unlike me, who laid waste my powers flailing my arms and swinging from side to side.
Our tall and athletic cousin Kannan, who enjoyed listening to our sagas about winning and losing, occasionally drove us to deserted stretches of the highway where he gave us a handicap of 50 metres before saying “Go!” and overtaking us in three strides. Such was our self-confidence that we were always astonished when we lost to him.
One day my friends and I walked to St Joseph’s European High School to watch Ravi running a 200 metre race. Believe me, at 11, 200 metres is serious business. I boasted all the way that my twin would outrun all the other boys and indeed I was sure he would. We watched as the runners took their places. The first part of the race was over a semi-circle of the field leading into a very long straight—the home stretch. My brother looked our way but didn’t wave. Anyway, we stood amidst the rest of the spectators and when the starter’s gun went off, the six runners flew off their blocks.
To my utter horror I saw my normally speedy twin trailing the field. I burned with humiliation. The idiot! Had he fallen asleep? I was so shocked and angry that I forgot to shout and cheer. My friends kept a diplomatic silence, which made things worse while tears of frustration blurred my vision.
Suddenly the order on the tracks began to alter. As he took the curve Ravi shot forward, smoothly overtaking runner five, runner four, runner three and drawing even with runner two. But it was a little too late. The race was ending. My friend turned to me with a smile, “A little more and he could have come second.”
I accosted my brother and asked him what he thought he was doing by disgracing himself running at a leisurely pace when he might have taken everyone down in the first 100 meters. He replied that he had planned to conserve energy in the first half and make up for it in the second half when the others had lost their fire. It took me some years to appreciate what he had attempted. Cousin Kannan often laughed at Ravi’s experiment, but I still marvel at the memory of that small boy’s self-control and discipline.