Fat or Fit

What's with Adnan Sami? The man has lost oodles of weight and with that has gone his better half. The Adnan we saw romancing so many young models and actresses on screen is a thing of the past. He is now replaced with a slimmer man who isn't what he used to be. I don't know him personally and surely don't know what he really was, but the happiness he exuded is now missing, and hence, I rant and rave. He now looks sickly and his songs aren't half as good as they used to be. Weight loss does come with a price tag. He lost all the excess fat and in the process, became a stranger to all the people who loved him and enjoyed anything he sang. The songs bubbled with life and energy. It's gone now.


We come across fat people almost every day of our lives and after a certain age one doesn't have to travel very far to see an obese person. One can do so by looking at the mirror. Some people are meticulous enough to maintain a perfect physique, others are too lazy to spare themselves some time precious moments of excercising. I happen to be at crossroads of the weight bridge. That it would be a struggle so severe, was incomprehensible a thought for me and yet ech day I stare at the stranger who stares back at me.


I asked a friend for some tips to maintain an envious physique as hers, and the reply was "fall in love dear".. Well, now that's a pretty expensive and time taking, tedious clause. Unless it's the gym instructor you're attracted to!! Needless to say, I haven't taken this advice too seriously. I tried yoga, but the enthusiasm fizzled out as fast as it had surged. The timings were to blame. Early mornings was when the yoga classes were conducted and Sleep did not permit me to creep out of the cozy bed. The early morning newspaper reading was going to come to my rescue, and I noticed an Ad. It was of a weight reduction centre. I was up and ready to reach the centre. At the place I was made to dish out a hefty sum for a few tricks that would help me get a chiselled bod. To add to it was the sight of some faces that were aghast to see me there. It was hilarious but something from within me told me we were all sailing in the same boat. I cut short the smile that had just begun to form..


I gave up all of these eccentricities and settled for the more sober form of keeping fit. Yes, walking. Walks are convenient and I make it a point to walk in the evenings, albeit for a small stretch. A few excercises and I feel fit. I make it a point to watch all stand up comedies (the slapstick ones as well). Isn't that what i was searching for after all.. A few doses of energy mixed with fitness and a scoop of laughs with a pinch of happiness here and there - The ingredients for a perfect body and perfect mind. Being a little over weight is after all not really a big issue..

greys of all shades

When Fate came calling

I tried,
all my life and ran
to keep up pace,
with an ever changing world
of expectations.

I stopped,
tired.
broken.
charred,
with ashes
from the remains,
of wishes unfulfilled,
of dreams turned down,
of ambitions floundered..

And then,
when all doors
caved inwards,
choking life's existence,
came a knock at the door.
I opened to see,
there,
stood my destiny.

The sun shone brighter,
The day seemed right,
All's well with the world,
Fate has finally smiled..

Talk of coincidence

Mundane things in life have a course of their own. Time meanders at a leisurely pace and one gets used to everything around. I happened to be in a phase that circled around the corridors of the place I live in. Since I had too much on my mind, I decided to get some outside help to help me out in getting the daily chores done. So, a desperate search led to some people who were suitable for the job. I finally zeroed in on one lady who seemed to fit into the family stream..


The employee who had been painstakingly handpicked began wWork began and one day I thought of giving in to her daily dose of gossip. Apart from knowledge of Mrs A, Mrs S, and Mrs B I was told that she lived near Lakshmi Narayan temple. Her expressions clearly said that she liked the amused look on my face. She, like an intelligent player, took advantage of the situation and on the next day turned up at the house only at noon. It irritated me no ends to see her arriving so late. The harrowed look on her face wasn't going to save her either.

"I got late at the other house," she complained, without looking at my face.

'Where is this other house?" i roared.

"Its near Lakshmi Narayan temple," came the answer.

My patience was ebbing but I prefered to abstain from any words that would cost me the daily help. Come Sunday, and the lady landed at my doorstep clad in a starched cotton sari and kumkum spread over the margin that parted her hair neatly. Her hair was oiled and combed in tiny straight lines that wouldn't budge even if it hit a storm. Tagging behind her was a little girl.

"Who is this?" i asked her.

"My daughter," came the reply. I couldn't stop myself from pulling the little girls cheeks.

"Where do u study little one'" i asked.

"Govt school," she replied with a cute, dimpled smile.

"And where is this School" i quizzed again.

"Near Lakshmi Narayan temple," the little girl replied to my amazement.


That evening I made up my mind to dig out this temple. I walked down the road, in search of the Lakshmi Narayan temple. I had to ask the passers by about where the temple was and after a lot of twists and turns I managed to reach the dusty street where stood the temple. The temple, that was the lifeline of the lady who was becoming more of a habit was but a simple looking house kind of structure with the statue of a diety in it. Habit made me close my eyes and bow down..


Things were getting easier with each passing day and then a festival dawned. Needless to say, the maid took a day off.

"Where did you go to set the boat to sail in water", I teased her.

She gave me the biggest ever grin and sheepishly said " Lakshmi Narayan temple".

It was tough to not smile back.

Height of the matter was that she informed me that her husband's name was 'Narayan', and her name!! well! You guessed it................. :-)

shopping on a Kirket day

A visit to the market was due, and when we finally reached the shop which i visit every month, I was surprised to see an empty shop. There was no one to cater to the customers. "Where is everyone?" i asked myself with a quizzical look on my face. An old man pointed towards a group of people staring at something. I held my breath and kept my fingers crossed. "Dear God! please don't let it be an accident." I treaded ahead with hopes that there had been no accident. I tore across the crowd and plunged ahead. But, before I could reach the place where lay the centre of attraction, the crowd cheered.

I leaped to find myself facing a portable TV. Dhoni had just scored a century and the crowd was ecstatic. I looked at the countless faces flushed with a glow of victory. A certain happiness which can be felt when a person himself/herself or a close family member or close friend achieves something was writ on their faces.
"Aaj India Kirket match jeet jaaega medum," cheerfully claimed a young lad in his teens. "Dhoni bhaiya ka ban gaya century" he added. By the time I could move ahead and ask him any question he was back into the shop. I followed him into the shop only to find him straight faced and businesslike in attitude.

What is it with Cricket that captivates a whole nation. Well, maybe two nations or maybe more countries. Is it just the game that fascinates all young and old or is it the surprise element attached with it that has people attracted towards it. Is it the glamour or just the money? I have too many questions on my mind and all that coz i do not really enjoy the game. I however, never miss an India Pakistan Cricket match for obvious reasons.

The late night news said India had won the match. I could see smiles around me. Half of India would have slept peacefully too, I 'm sure..

To turn into stone

Black statues, beautifully made to match original people are an artists delight. It is equally amazing for the onlooker, to see metals or stones carved into forms of real people. Admiration for the artist is writ all over the onlookers face and the thought that the person who has faded away into eternity, will still be a part of their lives is a relief. It is a relief only till statues are few. When one comes across a replica of any person at every crossroad, what do you do? Mayawati is the person who comes to mind every time we say statue. The obsession to live on forever has taken away the sense of compassion that exists in a human being.


I for one do not want to be turned into stone, for the simple reason, that I don't want birds sitting over my head and painting my face in streaks of white!! To live on forever, is every creator's dream. One wants to live on in the minds of people and be remembered even after they are gone. But, there surely are other ways of becoming immortal. One doesn’t have to be turned into stone to live on for eternity, because for all you know, the statue might be brought down by angry crowds. Haven’t we as an international community witnessed statues of Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Hitler and a few other men/women being brought to dust!! I


My mind however, has often floated on a cloud and seen myself being turned into stone. I imagine myself as a statue and what do I find! A lonely sentinel, standing tall amongst heavy traffic with cars, trucks, two wheelers etc coughing up smoke and pollution at it’s worst best. A family of eight kids, of all ages, lying, crying, laughing and joking at my feet and the house of rags, waiting to fall apart would add to the beauty of the surroundings. If the city governing body did take note of the neglect meted out to the statue, then the family would probably be shifted to a residential area, or else I would have company, much to my disgust..


The scenes during day would change with time. Rush hour would see school and office goers rushing past. Afternoons would be quieter, but, come evening and the world would go bonkers again. Honking cars, hooting buses, chugging trains, wailing and whizzing two wheelers would all whizz past. Night would be the time of bliss, but that would be so awfully lonely that the statue would look forward for the sun to shine back. The statue would bear the scorching heat of the summer sun, and the bitter cold of winters. It would brave rough weather every time it rains, and yet would never change the near perfect smile on the face. I am me and I have no similarity with Ms Mayawati, and that’s an indication that I have no inclination towards having my statue constructed, especially when I am alive. To be placed as a statue in some park or crossroad, I’ll have to shift base to another world. But, I do not want to die yet. There are lots of things I still have to do. The statue will have to wait to be constructed, for what time?? Eternity!!

Cooking it up

When you are surrounded with people who are always hungry, there's not much you can do but 'cook'. Cooking gets even more happening when you know someone's waiting to gobble all the food up. The pleasure of frying pakodas increass when pakodas vanish from the plate as you keep frying them. Time has run past me, and the hands that stole cookies and ate are now the ones that cook.


It was just yesterday that I would spend afternoons in digging out the home made cookies that my mother hid in the last shelf of the kitchen cupboard. She was one great cook and would make it a point to have a kitchen ful of cookies and cakes and other yummy stuff. But, afternoon was her time off and she would retire to take a quick nap. That was action time for the brothers and sisters in crime. A few friends would also join in and once the mission was accomplished and the box of cookies was recovered, it would be treat time.


The box would be emptied in no time and then was kept back in the same place, like it had never been moved. The crime reporters were bullied and bribed into taking a bite of the grub so that they didn't go yapping about the afternoon exploits. The crime was discovered when guests came home. The box was brought down and opened by the home maker, and to her dismay, teh box would be empty. Bang!! Bang!! Bang!! the reaction spelled. The guests would somehow be treated to some other freshly made snacks (those were the days when atithi was still the devo!!). I remember a time when I prayed vehemently " God, please let the guests live with us here", simply because i feared the wrath that we would have to face later. But, my prayers were turned down. I, the master of sin, would have to face the gallows. The exit of the guests was sign that our time was up. We would be made to own up our faults. But, I
ensured that if I went through hell, I had my gang along with me.


These things usually happened during vacations, when we had the time of our lives. Tele Vision was still not a part of our drawing rooms! Mornings were well spent in finishing off the burdensome holiday homework, which mostly consisted of creative work. But, that wasn't our age to realise we were doing something constructive. Howebver, we somehow slogged to get things done. Evenings began early and went on till the street lights would be switched on. So, it was only the time in between that had to be utilised. So, My mother cooked and we ate. We feared her anger, but, we always missed out on the little smile she always had on her face on discovering the emptied boxes. Our emotional hiccups didn't allow us to see her joy.


I had to go through the entire process of life to discover the magical joy on the faces of people who I live with (my family members). Today, I wait for invisible hands to whisk away the goodies I make. Some do not turn up. I hide the boxes of cookies too, but when I open them up, the things are always there. The present generation is growing up way too soon and in the bid has deprived me of the little joys. In a few days, my home will be bubbling with laughter and with people who will be talking at the same time. I will listen to it all and store it in a can and place it all in a corner of my heart. The one compliment that will surely come my way would be, "Mom you are the best cooker!!". My reaction - a smile and a whistle..

Perception

I took this pic on one of my trips to interior Orissa. The Picture reminded me of the old man and the sea, just that this old man was rowing his boat in a river. Such scenes are common and yet capture our imagination. I was lucky enough to click this one..

The man and mask

The man, a mask and his crooked walk, had faded out of sight,
His lonely tooth, his toothless smile, his eyes moist and bright,
He swung on his way, singing gung-ho hey, and held on to the bottle of wine,
Alas, he was gone and not seen at all, his footprints proof; he was fine.


His mask had weathered with time, but he held it close to his heart.
It had after all been his face, when his smile grace and youth were his part,
The colours may have faded with time, but it had stood by him as a friend,
And now the man and his mask had aged but together years they would spend.


If the years to come were of grief, they would cry together for sure,
If happiness came a visiting, they would share the feelings pure,
And if came death, with arms wide open, they would both embrace
A life that had been entwined by two faces would fade away in a face.


The mask had been the man, when he searched for himself in youth,
The two together, were but one, but for a fateful day in June,
The day that seperated the man and the mask, was when he fell from a height,
He got back on his crooked feet and bent too much to his right


And then he walked to the place on the wall and took off the mask and said;
"Friend! oh friend, you are me and together we will be,
In sickness, health or better days,
You and me, you and me, you and me..

excuses

there are excuses for not doing things you don't want to. I could have written each day, but I preferred not to. At times I was busy or simply lazy, on other occasions I was sad or happy. The excuses knew no bounds and I got into the habit of denying myself that little space I had promised i would give myself, and to make matters worse, I didn't feel the urge to get back to witing. Today, yet again, I force myself to type in a few words.

A transition from good times to bad times isn't easy. When you've seen good days, you are so engrossed in yourself and the joy of the moment that any hindrance seems a burden. But, when that burden is there to stay, all you can do is try and look at the positive side of life, take in a deep breath, feel strong and get to work. Things have a way of easing themselves out and bad times don't last forever. I know all that and yet all I want to do at times is bawl like a child and howl and cry my lungs out. The tragedy is I can't. I just wait for time to fly by. But, time has to make it's pesence felt and has started moving at snail's pace.

Someone told me that there's nothing as good times and bad times. There's a part of good in the bad and vice versa. But, I DISAGREE..
Enuf for today I guess..