Bandra Station (7)

Flagging early. Just the thought of Worli — halfway point of the half-marathon — still sets my legs to trembling. I'm facing exhaustion again: already stuck one pin to the north, in the koliwada; aforementioned Jumboree Maidan beyond striking distance to the east; racecourse to the south free, for the time being, from such intrusions; and simply no time for the option, yes, to the west: Haji Ali dargah. I'm scheduled all day: a meeting, an appointment, and a rendez-vous. So I buckled and, while waiting for my ride, washed one down with a cane juice. I am not pacing myself. I am in trouble.

At what point does a problem becomes an addiction? Is it when we start planning for the next fix? When it prevents us from seeing what's directly in front of us? When it pervades other areas of our lives? When our thoughts veer predictably in its direction? When it intrudes upon friendships? I'm worried that chaat and vada are colonizing too much of my mind. How can other bloggers manage it?