Fat and Fit

My lifelong fight in the Battle of the Bulge suffered a terrible setback when I happened to read an article on Time about how exercise is simply not the way to go when you are trying to lose weight. I love to exercise and I hate dieting, which had the mixed result of my not losing weight but being secure in the mistaken belief that I was doing something to keep the fat demons at bay. The article was an eye - opener and stripped away the comfortable myths I had surrounded myself with.

Consequently, I had lost the motivation to haul myself out of bed and work up a good sweat. And to make things worse unlike my first pregnancy when I was into butter beans, greens, and drumsticks this time around I find myself fighting an insane craving for chocolates and ice cream on an almost daily basis. In fact, I have mutated into the chocolate monster. Today, I needed a sugar fix so bad, I actually considered stealing my daughter's Kinder Joy while she was sleeping. But I was stopped in my tracks when I saw the tempting goodie clasped tightly in her hands almost as if she sensed the threat to it even in deep repose. (Veda is wise beyond her years).

Things have never seemed darker and I am terrified that the day is not far when this junk food junkie, chocoholic, and fallen- from -the- fitness- bandwagon loser will be sold to the circus, having been mistaken for an elephant. While I was torturing myself with images of myself playing Jabba the Hut, I read the letters to the editor section in Time. Readers of the esteemed publication where almost unanimous in lambasting the exercise - is - useless - for - weight - loss article and dismissing it as irresponsible journalism. And I found myself agreeing with a reader from India who said it was better to exercise and eat than just eat and not exercise.

My new mantra for the duration of my pregnancy is to be fat but fit and I guess I'll focus on that elusive size - zero body a little later in the day. Have whipped out my forgotten prenatal exercise tapes and am going to start walking again. And now that I am back on the fitness wagon, hears to hoping that I don't fall off anytime soon.

Good Samaritans

If a Martian were to pick up a copy of one of our newspapers or magazines, it would be perfectly understandable for him to dismiss Earthlings as a bunch of maladaptive miscreants who have nothing better to do with their time other than rob, rape, murder, or wage war against their own kind. This in addition to being purveyors of homemade pornographic material and destroyers of the ecosystem. Atleast we won't have to worry about a large - scale alien attack! Anyways my point is news material these days is one of the leading causes of indigestion given the content that is covered. Which is why it was a refreshing change to read (in The Week) about some good samaritans who have been harbingers of positive change in a beleaguered society.

Two of the good samaritans - George Abraham and Dhruv Lakra, made a deep impression on me. George Abraham is credited with being the creator of blind cricket in India. Being visually impaired himself, he refused to allow his handicap to stop him from following his dreams. Today he works in the advertising industry and is always looking for ways to brighten up the dark world of the blind. Whether it is playing cricket or honing their innate abilities, George Abraham is there to help his brethren lead useful, fulfilling lives.

Dhruv Lakra is the founder of Mirakle Couriers where the mail is sorted and delivered by deaf adults. The 28 year old started small with only one employee but today the organization boasts of 15 corporate clients and 30 deaf employees! I loved the fact that Dhruv made it possible for the deaf in his charge to find a way to contribute to society while enhancing their own sense of self - worth and making good money while they are at it.

So Mr. Martian we are not all bad eggs. Sure, we behave like arses on occasion but you can't deny that sometimes we are adorable.We may wage wars but we also fight for peace and for every jackass there is a good samaritan. And yeah we made a hole in the ozone layer but I bet there is a genius somewhere who is on the cusp of a major breakthrough in the plugging up of atmospheric holes with discarded socks no less. So there, humankind rocks!!!

What Lies Beyond?

What happens after we die? What can we expect in that great beyond? Most religions talk about heaven and hell, but I never really bought that concept. Heaven is supposedly the place where everything is beautiful and clean and everyone is deliriously happy cavorting with chubby cherubs. Yeah, sort of like at a dentist's place sans the aesthetics where there is enough happy gas to go around. Hell, on the other hand is where you burn for your sins and are treated to a firsthand experience of torture devices used over the ages. Sounds like Sivadump to me :)

Hindus believe in rebirth. I am not sure about it, but I must confess that whenever my latent penis envy condition starts acting up, I promise myself that in my next life, I'll be a man. (You'll have a similar condition too, if in your family the boys are allowed to study in co - ed institutions and sent off abroad to round out their education while the girls are sent to all - girls boarding schools and then married off without further ado). And people I have no reason to be fond of will be cockroaches. Its a pleasant enough daydream but I am not sure it will ever amount to anything more.

My favorite explanation can be found in Harry Potter. In the immortal words of the great Albus Dumbledore, "To the well -ordered mind, death is but the next great adventure" . Well I am always game for a new adventure and besides it sounds a lot more fun than the "perpetual happy - hour" place and "eternal exile to Sivadump" place.


And for those who are wondering about my sudden morbidity, there is a simple explanation - pickles and ice cream for lunch coupled with a terrible case of morning sickness. Pregnancy is such a magical time. Be warned.

To Suffer or Die?

Sir Edward Downes, the former conductor of Britain's Royal Opera made a sucide pact with his wife, a former ballerina who had been diagnosed with terminal liver and pancreatic cancer. They decided that life without each other would be unbearable and decided to end it together in a manner of their choosing. Strict British laws on assisted suicide prompted them to fly to the more lenient climes of Switzerland. They went to clinic in Zurich by the name of Dignitas, where for a fee of $7000 the group arranges for death by barbiturate. The couple paid the fee and took their lives. Nice and easy and supposedly civilized. I am sure a lot of people would find this romantic but I thought it was creepy as hell.

Ordinarily I am pro - choice but there is something about the idea of assisted suicide or euthanasia or whatchamacallit that really freaks me out. Sure the idea is to put a dog or a horse out of its misery when it is past help but it will be a bleak day for human beings when it is declared that they deserve nothing more or less than animals (Some day the Blue Cross is gonna get me).

Yeah, yeah there are many arguments for euthanasia - sometimes people wanna die with dignity, the staggering medical costs will bankrupt their families etc. etc. But the moral boundaries become increasingly blurred when we walk down this road. When I was in college, I used to take the train to get home. And I have lost track about the number of oldies who cribbed to me about how callous and materialistic their children have become. One fella refused to come for his mother's funeral because he was too miserly to cough up the money for flight tickets from the U. S. of A. Imagine that! What about those who are in a hurry to come into their inheritance without blowing it up on medical fees? I shudder to think of what would would happen if such people were given the power to decide if their ageing folks were to live or die!

If we relax the laws on euthanasia, I am sure there will be a time when we decide to abandon old folks on the inhospitable slopes of the Himalayas or Mount Fuji or whichever geographical terrain than can serve as a dumping ground for the aged. It is too bad that are fear of growing old and dying should manifest itself in such inhuman ways. A slow and painful death brought on by old age is hardly the best way to go but I am not sure a cup of barbiturate is the answer. Dylan Thomas may not agree but perhaps it is best to go gently into that good night. Without any assistance, thank you.

Bang and Fizzle

If you are a resident of Sivakasi, fireworks are a part of your life whether you like it or not. We walk around oblivious to the crescendo of bangs and booms that would have ripped the eardrums of outsiders to shreds. The thick pall of smoke that mushrooms the entire town despite doing nothing to improve the decor is accepted rather like an annoying relative.

In other places accidents in the industrial areas probably cause a lot of noise particularly when lives have been lost. But not in Sivakasi. Oh no, we have become inured not only to noise pollution but to death as well especially if it happens in the fireworks industry. It happens too damn often you see. Besides fireworks are the financial mainstay of this dump. And safety regulations cut into profits. It simply does not make sense to bite the hand that feeds you does it?

On July 21st, there was an explosion at Sri Krishna Fireworks, a private fireworks manufacturing unit. 8 people were killed and 45 injured. I seriously doubt the veracity of those figures especially since it was a major accident and took the firefighters three hours to douse the flames. There should have been an uproar but there wasn't. The big bang that should have resonated across the place lamenting the tragedy of it all fizzled out. The entire episode was hushed up quickly with some token arrests made and all the other dirt brushed under the carpet. After all it has happened hundreds of times in the past and it will happen again and again and again in the future. Let us all get over it shall we?

For a town that has learned to embrace noise, it is remarkable how silence can be maintained on the gravest of issues. It is about time the inhabitants of Sivakasi made some noise and for a good cause.

Save the Kids

There was a special report on The Week entitled “Where Are Our Kids?”. It was one of the most disturbing articles I have read recently. According to the National Human Rights Commission, about 45, 000 kids go missing in India every year. Apparently India has become a Bermuda Triangle of sorts for kids. And what is worse these kids fall into the worst hands imaginable. They are forced to beg, are sexually exploited, or sold on the child labor market. While it appears that some of the children are abducted, others are willingly sold by poverty – stricken parents, who have been hoodwinked by unscrupulous carrion representing placement agencies that offer false promises of high – paying jobs and a better life.
Of course, there are strict laws regarding child labor of any sort. Pity they are not enforced. All this stuff got me thinking. Perhaps we are tackling this the wrong way. I have always looked askance at folks who hire little kids to work in their homes. But suddenly I am looking at them in a whole new light. Usually, the underage laborers are hired to look after their employer’s children or do relatively light household chores. At least these children get decent meals and a roof over their heads. I know a former child laborer who is now the proud owner of his own tailoring shop thanks to the munificence of his former employees. These children are definitely better off than the ones living on the streets.
Nowadays decent family folks avoid hiring children for fear of running afoul of the law. And yet laws don’t feed the bulldog. Consequently, people living in the lowest economic strata of society, have no choice but to sell their children to the predators on the prowl. So a bad situation has been worsened. Offering free education to these poor kids is hardly the solution. From their position, it is not a feasible choice as education is a luxury they simply cannot afford. After all they can’t be expected to squat under a tree and pay attention to poorly paid, ill – tempered teachers who usually don't bother to turn up for lessons. It would be nice if these institutions were run with a tighter grip and with some attention paid to the financial situation of the pupils.
A pal of mine and I were recently discussing what we’d do if we struck it super – rich in life. We decided we would start schools where kids will not only be offered free education under the tutelage of the best teachers money can buy but will also be taught useful trade skills which they will be able to employ for the benefit of the school and the neighborhood and for which they will get paid of course. That would be our Utopia. And since we are such lovely human beings we will also have enough left over to buy our diamonds, yachts, private jets, the Lakers, and Federer (I intend to retire him immediately). Sigh!!! Wouldn’t it be perfect? And while Jan and I are waiting to get rich, I hope other members of that elite made- of - money club have similar brainwaves.

Mommyhood: The Agony and Ecstasy

Veda took a nasty spill the other day. It happened like this. I was trying to get her to eat her dinner and she took to her heels. Seeing that I was catching up, she tried to run faster, did not look where she was going and fell hard on her face. When I lifted her up, her face was covered with blood. And I am ashamed to say I totally fell apart. She is just one and a half for Chrissake! Babies should not be allowed to bleed. What do they have lousy guardian angels for if not to prevent this sort of thing?

Of course I went through the motions. Got some ice, rushed her to a hospital. But the thing is Veda handled it all with so much more aplomb. Apart from insisting that I give her some ice to suck on, poppet was a doll. She giggled all the way to the hospital, gamely helping my kid bro in his efforts to cheer her up, while all I could do was fight back tears and play the various futile 'what - if' scenarios over and over in my head. If only I had dived and whisked her away before she hit the floor... If only I had listened to my husband and stayed home that day... If only none of this had happened... If only... If only... If only...

Doc said she needed a single stitch and whisked her away to do the needful. Veda started screaming as soon as she laid eyes on the doctor (she hates them) and would not stop. I thought her Mommy would show some gumption, after all she never cries except in darkened theatres, in the solitude of the space under her pillow, or in the midst of a particularly heated argument with her husband if she feels she is losing leverage. But that day her mommy bawled worse than a baby. Sometimes you think you know a person, and then you find you don't actually.

Veda is sorta ok now. She has this giant bandage on the center of her forehead. When I showed it to her, she thought it was funny as heck and kept laughing at herself following regular trips to the mirror. The whole episode was thus dismissed out of hand and relegated to the darkest part of her memory where they are likely to be forever lost to her. I, on the other hand will never be able to forget those agonizing moments but I am happy she is happy. There we have mommyhood in a nutshell - agony and ecstasy.