How to lose weight...in eight easy steps

1. Crib, whine and complain to anyone and everyone even remotely willing to listen. How can she be so slim, she hogs all the time. Why don’t I fit into my skinnies anymore? I hate my genes, I hate my jeans...Do it loudly and try to pack in as many expressions as possible. Helps you shed fat from your cheeks. If after a few days, your friends start running in the opposite direction the moment they spot you, catch up with them, you could even try out-running them. Don’t forget to turn around to catch their puzzled expression. Do it at least 5 times a week.

2. Stand outside the bakery shop and drool. You know you can’t have that sinful tiramisu or that absolutely divine dark chocolate orange cake, but can definitely salivate. Inhale deeply and to make it more effective you could try a few reps of “kapal-bhati”. Your quivering stomach might attract curious stares, pay no heed to them.

3. Be more active and make it fun. Hide the remote from your family members. If they try and snatch it from you, run around the dining table. Ten rounds should be sufficient. Take the stairs, but do it with a difference. Two steps up, three steps down-time consuming but very-very effective. In office no more e mailing instructions & memos, insist on hand delivering them. Will help you bond better with your colleagues and you also get to hear instant reactions.

Heaven Is A Place On Earth

 

Picture yourself reclining on a deck chair in your balcony gazing at the “now it’s blue, now it’s green” sea gently lapping at the shore barely ten meters away from your chalet. A tapestry of dark clouds is playfully darting across the bright blue sky, hinting mischievously at a cool shower coming your way. Behind you, a lush tropical forest, the air filled with the merry chirping of crickets. As you leaf through the flora and fauna brochure with detailed instructions on what to do if you encounter a gecko/monitor lizard/snake, a mild shiver of excitement runs down your spine. It also happens to be your anniversary and you have come to know your daughter has done shockingly well in her exams (the mother was shocked, not the daughter). To celebrate, you have made reservations for dinner at a restaurant that stands on stilts somewhere out there in the sea. Heaven?

Heaven is somewhere in Malaysia, an archipelago of 99 islands nestled in the Andaman Sea. Better known as Langkawi, it is a curious mixture of low lying hills that dot the horizon, the calm aquamarine sea and the fascinating Kilim river with its unique mangroves.

We are but mere mortals and cannot tolerate tranquility for long. If our first day was bliss, the next day we had to atone for our sins. Distressed at our over indulgence of the gastronomic variety, we decided to trek up to Telega Tujuh (seven wells falls). Legend has it that the fairies used to come down to bathe in these pools. A rather long walk and 638 steps later (the husband insists there were more), the unbearable humidity compounding our misery, we felt like we had scaled the Everest. The seven wells give you a breathtaking view of the forests with the sea shimmering in the horizon. Even though the pictures in the brochures promised gushing waterfalls and deep pools, the wells were too tiny, the water scanty, the monkeys too many and all of them hungry. Perhaps the insufficient rainfall in the last few days was to blame (the monkeys I think got inspired by Kareena and changed their mind midway). We finished off our trek with chilled green coconut water. The water was sweet and we greedily scooped out the tender coconut flesh. Ah…nirvana.

Evening we decided to hit Kuah town famed for its Night Market. The market is a vibrant medley of vendors selling anything from garments to trinkets to even fresh fruits and vegetables. But it was the food vendors that grabbed our attention. Hey isn’t that an Octopus, God that fish looks really angry, wow these drinks look violently colourful, are you sure these are fruit drinks? And what did we end up having? Curly potatoes on sticks… I guess the sights and smells overwhelmed us.

A Foodie In Exile

I was standing patiently, awaiting my turn at the neighbourhood veggie outlet. The woman ahead had just purchased nearly all the mangoes that were on display, much to my annoyance. It was then I overheard her friend announce “I stopped having mangoes yaa, too fattening”. My head did a 180 degree turn  and took one long look at her. Weight is such a petty reason to give up one of nature’s most delicious treats. Aren’t mangoes the sole reason of existence for many of us, nearly dying in the scorching summer heat? The sweet aroma that wafts from ripening mangoes, the sticky juice that trickles down as you devour big chunky pieces, ah sheer bliss. This passionate diatribe thankfully remained within the safe confines of my head.

I am a fairly reasonable person and my emotional outbursts are inevitably followed by deep introspection. A few minutes later I was sheepishly saying to myself, who am I kidding, don’t I suffer from food paranoia myself? Chole Bhatura? You must be kidding. How about paranthas...only if it’s sans oil...Ice cream? A teeny-weeny scoop please! Steamed broccoli, sushi? ...yummy, yummy,yummy. Was I always like that? Not really.

As kids, my brother and I would love coming home with Baba from school. It was not something that happened often. But on days luck favoured us; the three of us would make a customary stop for an ice-cream treat. I always managed to finish my portion first while my brother would take his own sweet time to finish his. He would scoop out the ice cream lovingly in slow motion, devouring each molecule, teasing me, prolonging the agony of my by now ice cream-less existence. And now when Baba asks us whether we would like to have ice cream, both of us let out a vehement NO- you don’t want us to get fat, do you? He still likes to think of us as kids, even though both of us are much married with kids of our own.

Break ke baad

Hey Guys,

Am going to get lost for a while. Will resurface next month, hopefully with more A-musing observations.

Till then

Ciao.

May-hem..A Month That Was

The month saw an increasing number of our politicos getting inspired by Baba Ramdev. Quite a few of them are now trying to put their foot in their mouth with varying degrees of success. Jairam Ramesh went international and demonstrated this amazing feat with his effusive commentary in Beijing on the home ministry’s misplaced paranoia. Far from getting applauded for his carefully cultivated bonhomie with the Chinese, he received a swift rap on his knuckles. He is now sulking in silence. Nitin Gadakari not wanting to be left behind likened a couple of his fellow parliamentarians to the canine variety. The BJP president’s comparison of SP Chief Mulayam Singh Yadav and RJD supremo Lalu Yadav to dogs kowtowing to the Congress, evoked howls of protests. Gadakari is now busy licking his own wounds.

Our desi export Mallika Sherawat is also making friends, but of a slithery-slimy variety. The actor desperately promoting her latest flick Hiss at Cannes got cozy with live snakes during a photo call. The snake union has launched a complaint with PETA.

Talking about friendly neighbours, Pakistan took their new found love for Sania-bhabi to new levels. The tennis star has appeared on packets of a gutka brand, with the punch line “tazgi bhara ho ang ang, jab Sania bhabi gutka sang”. Wonder what Sania’s reaction is to this wonderfully fresh idea?

Ten Ways To Hitch A Ride To Heaven

“Concerned at the drastic drop in violence levels in Jammu & Kashmir, Pakistani authorities are now offering a pay hike to Kashmiri terrorists....from 5000 a month to 8000-10000 now” The Times of India


Think about it, people. It is 48 degrees in Gurgaon. There is no electricity. There is no water. Your European vacation is waylaid by this volcano in - of all places - Iceland. Might as well just give up and go back to your roots. To the One who plonked you in the middle of all this. India offers a unique blend of traditional and modern ways of making this trip, aided in part by our friendly neighbours.

1. Shop till you drop. Go hunting for that noodle strap top in Sarojini Nagar, or that killer choli in Lajpat Nagar on a crowded weekend, preferably near festival days. You have the option of a Hindu or a Muslim bomb going off in the garbage can next to you just as you are polishing off that plate of steaming hot momos with the lethal red sauce. Spicy!

2. Contact Ram Sene for Rent-a-riot services. Let’s say, you are an artist looking for that big break. For a fee, Muthalik will arrange a riot-worthy chief guest at your exhibition, conduct the riot to your specifications, fracture your leg (the break that you needed), and offer a complimentary ride in an ambulance to the farthest government hospital. If the riot did not kill you, the hospital will. A perfect frame.

3. Try the railways. Of the several options available, the latest one is to just go to the station and wait for the announcement that your train is now coming in platform 23 instead of platform 1, leaving in 5 minutes. What will ensue is not a stampede, as you may think. It is merely Indians, who are prone to ‘tripping’ as Mamata Didi has so eloquently put it, that will trample on you, crushing your bones, lungs and heart into dough that can be easily transported to your loved ones in a Maggi Noodle carton, by Registered Post, Acknowledgement Due.

Rakhi Sawant at Cannes

Everybuddy is talking about Aishwarya and Deepika at Cannes. These ladies are just standing on some rad carpet and getting their photo-shoto clicked. Arre bhai, yeh Canne kya hai, mujhe bhi batao? The moment I come to know it is not a body part, I tell my agent, meraa bhi ticket book karao, abhee. I am Rakhi Sawant, India’s item queen. Who is this Mallika Sherawat, posing in her petticoat-blouse, giving mouth to mouth to snakes? What she can do I can do batter. I can do a lot of other things with snakes. People talking about boob-quake? My jhatka-matkas have moved Bihar to UP and UP to West Bangaal. Only Rakhi Sawant, full-full Desi girl deserves to be at Cannes.


Buss aur kya, I sat in the plane. I asked a passenger, Cannes waali plane hain naa? Wake me up when Cannes comes. I am so tired naa, dancing non-stop, acting non-stop, dramabaazi non-stop. But what to do, when you are the Amitabh Bachchan of Indian television: yeh sabh karnaa parta hai.

I have heard Cannes has a film festival, where big-big stars & big-big directors come. I will ask for a full frontal meeting with Martin Scorcee-cee. I can also try for, in your face meeting with Tarantino, the basterd director. Salaa, he is just like me, poor in spellings, calls his film Ingluorious Basterds. He makes dhishum-dhishum movies, I will tell him, you must have a Rakhi item number in your next movie. I also want to ask Russel Crow...arre, why crow, dirty black, ugly bird. Why not Russel Cock, Russel Peacock? So many beautiful-beautiful birds to choose from.