“We live in jhuggis (shanties), down the Barakhamba Road. We came here early to collect plastic bottles, discarded by the runners, from the road as we knew there would be a marathon today. We do this every year,” says Aijaz, a-13-year-old, who makes Rs 20 off every six kg of plastic bottles he sells.

His seven-year-old brother, Sameer, was helping him clean the litter of empty plastic bottles that lined the road. They were not the lone rag pickers at the Delhi Airtel Half Marathon. Many like them, old and young alike, were there arranging for a day's meal.

There were other kids, too, from the neighbouring jhuggis, who were there simply to enjoy the run.

They were collecting costume props to play with — a Spider-Man mask and a Mary Kay bat became their much-prized possession as they ran along with the crowd, catching up with their elusive childhood.

Eight-year-old Manohar caught up, sporting a Spider-Man mask and a beaming face, swinging a plastic bat in his right hand and said, “ Didi, unko bolo na ki woh mujhe apna seengh de de ,”[Sister, please ask them to hand me their horns].

He was referring to the reindeer crowns sported by an NGO working for disaster management.

A marathon, like a story, has a beginning, middle and an end.

The journey culminating into a finish line always has something worth narrating, some voices from the periphery that makes the run worth it — whether it is a juice-walla, making a week of earnings on a single Sunday (owing to the Marathon) or a omelette-walla befriending the runners, as he made their breakfast after a high-energy six-kilometre run.

These tales from the fringes offered as much colour to the 100-metre lap as the costumes worn by different runners, if not more, lining the run with much spirit and tint.

>heena.k@thehindu.co.in

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