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The Battle of Losing Weight.
Today after several decades of trying, I’ve finally accepted the fact that I’ve lost the Battle of the Bulge.
I have tried starving. I have tried exercise.
But nothing seems to work.
The other day, browsing at Crosswords I came across several books on losing weight. Unlike the books in the past which were written by Americans and needed copious quantities of food unavailable in our markets, these books are written by Indians. These books take into account the Indian psyche and food culture. Many of them are written by savvy young women, in a friendly readable style – almost as pleasant as fiction.Women & the Weight loss Tamasha by Rujuta Diwekar remains my all-time favourite. Strangely enough, all these weight loss programs are targeted at making women look better but all weight loss programs for men are aimed at making them healthier! But that’s another story for another day…………..I have been doing yoga since I was 16 years old but am still unable to do the Lotus Pose, the Pose of the Sage and several other convolutions without huffing and puffing. But hope lives eternal and I am sure that one day I will be able to do the Boat without toppling or the Cow Face with ease. Till then I will keep on trying.After years of hanging from the door frame in an attempt to grow taller failed miserably, my mother marched me off to my first ever yoga class at Mumbai’s Kaivalyadham . This Institute which is still by the sea has a very scientific approach to Yoga and every prospective student is given a medical test before admission. Then a consultation with a doctor follows, after which a customised set of exercises is prescribed for each student. Gradually building up to your optimum level, each student is carefully taken through the poses by one teacher attending to around four students. Even today though the place is jazzed up, it lacks the sophistication and slickness of Yoga studios but is popular nonetheless for that old fashioned no-nonsense Yoga where a pose is a pose is a pose.
But the tedium of the long bus ride far outweighed the promise of growing taller and I gladly abandoned Kaivalyadham for a quick racquet game played with my friends in the club. Even though I could connect the ball and had a fair aptitude for the game, I had no great passion for the sweat it generated and after my friends acquired the boyfriends they were after, this form of exercise was abandoned en masse. Besides, I think I am intrinsically lazy, so for several years, my only form of exercise was walking. And when the girls began playing at the club, I picked up the racquet from where I’d left off. For several years we had fun at the Club playing badminton during the rains and tennis in the winter months and of course, swimming in the summer. But as the girls grew, their interest in games diminished and I had to re-structure my exercise program yet again.
The tyranny of the Gym
In order to keep my weight under control, I tried walking in the dark (before the household woke up) and mixed it up with the fad of the 80’s – Gymming which was more about where you gymmed and who you gymmed with rather than the weight you actually lost. Week after week I would stand on the scale and measure up and watch my inches shrink as my poundage grew. ” It’s all your fat being converted into muscle,” the instructor would tell me ” and muscle weighs more than fat.”
“But, ” I would counter, “In absolute terms isn’t 50 kg of blubber ( or fat ) less in terms of weight than 54 kg of muscle?” Unfortunately, she never got it. Nor did I; so I threw away my twinkly tights, leotards, leg warmers and other trappings of the Gym and went back to my walk : an erratic exercise program which again depended on the girls’ school timings, the visitors living at home, my own work schedule ( we worked from home those days) , the weather , my mood etc etc.
Yo Yo Yoga
So it was with dismay that I watched the pounds pile on and started looking at the at slim and sexy mothers in their forties with something akin to envy. Once again I was torn between the gym and the yoga mat and it was finally the yoga mat that won. This time I joined something closer to home – the BKS Iyengar classes at Home Villa . I loved those classes even though I literally had my heart in my mouth as I hung suspended upside down along the wall on the first day itself. I loved those classes even though Kobad, the instructor, would gleefully pump my upper arms and wait for the titter from the class as he described them as wonderful specimens of pure Porbunder ghee . I loved those classes that made me stretch till my tendons snapped till one fine day the guy opposite me winked while we were doing Downward Facing Dog. At first I thought it was a tic of his that I’d missed in previous classes but when I found the frequency of the winking increasing, I just upped and quit.Once again , for several years I pounded the roads again till I found Shiv Kumar’s Yoga Classes at the Club. Now those were classes that were sheer bliss: springy wooden floors, colourful non-slip mats and a bright airy space. Besides, the young girl who took the classes was easily bullied and after the 10th Surya Namaskar, she lamely acceded to our demand to abandon the 11th. What I loved about these classes was the period of rest between every set of poses. However, with two hours of Yoga three days a week bang in the middle of the morning, my time to do things shrank so when my back froze to the floor in a particularly tough Upavistha Konasana , I had to abandon this class too.Defying the Law of Gravity
There were some more years of walking round and round – this time around the Racecourse, round the building or round the neighbourhood till I finally thought I’d fall down dizzy and decided I’d better go back to yoga. Which is what I did. It’s been five years or more that I’ve been going to a Yoga class which is across the road from home. We are a bunch of middle-aged ladies with no passion for fashion and no desire to look good or lose weight. We have finally accepted that weight like age is a phenomenon that defies the Law of Gravity. So we do the Tibetan Rites in an unhurried pace and sometimes skip the Head Stands. After 5 Sun Salutations, we do some Poses of the Sage, we do a few graceful sequences and then wind down to the most wonderful Dead Man’s Pose, which sometimes, is the only restful period I get in my busy day. -
And no, this old woman is not snoring. In fact I’m contemplating :
a) should I curl up in bed and read a book?
b) should I curl up in bed and watch tv?
c) should I go shopping in a mall?
d) should I go for a stroll in the garden and get wet?
e) should I clean up the cupboard that’s already be cleaned?These are amazing choices for someone who really has nothing to do.
Today is one of those wet monsoon days when everything is grey and gloomy.
It is a day when light rainfall is the sound you hear in the background.
It is a day which goes from shades of grey to almost white when the sun tries hard to peep out.
It is a day when gusts of wind blow umbrellas inside out.
It is a day when rivers of mud come gushing down the hillside
It is a day when wet skin wrinkles and crinkles from deep puddles on the road.
It is a day of muddy footsteps and toweled heads after a welcome hot shower.
It is a day of cups of tea with biscuits dunked to breaking.
It is a day to catch up with friends on endless calls on telephone.
It is a day to watch a flic with richly buttered popcorn
It is a day to bake a cake and inundate the house with smell of vanilla
It is a day to paint scene or put photos away in albums
It is a day when carpets fly, when clothes don’t dry.
It is a day to watch out for the giant waves that buses make
It is a day to sail paper boats, play tic tac toe or a round of two of Bridge
It is a day to hear old songs and read a book or flick through picture magazines.
It is a day when taxis stop and all the cars start honking
It is a day when huge droplets fall from crashing waves against the rocks.
It is a day when all the world is just a blob of a modern impressionist painting.
It is a day when I’m so glad to be at home doing nothing.


