Lessons in the drizzle

By Shevlin Sebastian 
It’s drizzling
But it doesn’t matter.
I am running, 
Around the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium 
At Kochi.
The ground is wet,
There are water patches around.
So, I take careful steps.
As I go around, 
I see a young man,
In a hoodie, 
And track pants.
He is talking, 
On the mobile phone. 
Standing beneath an awning.
Must be to his girlfriend, 
Because he is smiling.
I think to myself, 
‘What a wastrel. Do some exercise. Get fit’.
But he is oblivious. 
During my next lap,
I see,
A friend has joined him. 
‘Two wastrels’, I think, 
As I start panting.
My middle-age lungs, 
Are aching.
But I like the suffering, 
Because it makes me feel good.
When I stop.
On my third round, 
They are peeling off their track pants.
I run on..
The drizzle has eased up, 
A cool breeze is blowing. 
My perspiration-drenched forehead 
Gets some relief.
Running triggers 
Something primitive in me. 
This is what man did, 
For thousands of years. 
Before the invention 
Of the wheel.
I can hear the thud of feet 
Hitting the ground
Behind me.
It sounds like heartbeats.
Then these two young men,
Whom I derided, 
Whizzed past me 
At high speed. 
Smooth electrifying movements 
Of hands and feet. 
‘What?’ I exclaim silently in my head
My perception was 
Oh so wrong. 
They are athletes, 
And they are swift.
And they splash, 
Through the puddles. 
Fearlessly. 
So I had simply 
Misunderstood them.
That’s what happens to all of us
We misunderstand 
People. 
Places. 
Communities. 
Religions.
Spouses. 
Children.
Parents. 
Relatives.
Is it any surprise, 
Society is so fractured.  
I feel like a fool 
Message to me: don’t jump to conclusions, 
Ever. 
(Published in Hello Poetry)