After having consumed a huge meal of chicken, tonnes of potato, two vegetables and countless chapatis dripping with ghee, I happened to glance in the mirror.
What I saw, I did not like. Just there, right in the middle of a flabby body, well coated in fat, was this protrusion which stood out like a flag-bearer.
It is commonly known as a paunch, the bane of many not seeking the body beautiful. Unfortunately, I fell into that category easily, probably as frontrunner in the Huge Paunch stakes.
I never felt as conscious about it as I did now. In fact it had become a part of me since I was a young of lad 19 whose only exercise was to rise sprightly from bed before collapsing into it again for a few more snatches of sleep.
So why this sudden complex about something which had been a permanent feature of this human shell in which I lived?
I sat back, poured some beer into the glass, and pondered. Many theories floated in and out of the mind, without staying in a bit longer to throw some light on the matter. I finally concluded that having a paunch was my birthright and I shall have it.
But one thing was clear. I had to get it down to an acceptable size.
If people tell you that they lost their paunch in three months then they must be lying through their teeth. Three months indeed!
So the next day, I was at the gym where a bad-tempered instructor told me exactly what he thought of my paunch and warned me of long months of hard work to cut down its size.
I shuddered and didn’t let my vivid imagination let loose on it. With an iron resolve and streams of determination running through my system, i plunged into it without a thought in my head.
Believe me, what I had to go through was just a wee bit short of some form of ancient torture.
The body has to go through many difficult contortions which were meant only for comic book superheroes. But with lots of huffing and puffing for months on end, I managed to tuck in the appendage by a few centimetres.
It was certainly better than before. I could half bend now without any problems. I probably looked about six months pregnant instead of nine.
The horrid gym instructor told me not to stop. He argued that if I get to the body beautiful stage, iI will be rid of the many ailments infesting my body. But by now I had had enough. I needed to eat properly cooked food instead of raw offerings.
Promising him that I will be back again the next day, I studiously avoided the gym and its vicinity. My paunch was manageable. I consoled myself by saying that all prosperous people have paunches.
So I relaxed, sat back and opened the newspaper. After skipping the sordid doings of crafty politicians and never-ending civic issues I came across a title – Being in Love Can Make You Put on Weight’.
Oh no, Oh no. I had finally found the answer. Oh God, not the gym again.
#All views expressed in this column are those of the author and Pune365 does not necessarily subscribe to them.
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