The Lady in the Cotton Saree

We all have a person who we have loved and lost. Someone who’s departure has left behind a void that no amount of time or distractions could fill. Funny thing people say that time is the best healer, but they forget that time is also infinite. Infinite, yes indeed, for certain grieves, no matter how long the event may have been feels just the same.

I always knew that the death of my grandmother has had a severe impact on me but it not until the previous evening that it became even the more apparent to me. I thought that maybe age has toughen me, matured me and definitely strengthen me, but all of that came crashing when just the sight of her Saree, peeping out carelessly through the last shelf of the closet sent tear waves across my eyes so much so that it became physically impossible for me to hold back and I let myself have a little cry. You see, growing up, my grandmother was my constant companion. She was neither overtly affectionate nor was she too pampering, it wouldn’t be difficult to pass her off as someone significantly lacking warmth for a person of her age. After all aren’t we programmed to expect the elderly to be all warm and cuddly giving out the smell of prescribed medication? Well that wasn’t she.  She was this silent, confident, resilient person whose presence could both put you at ease as well ensure that you stay well-behaved. She was born in Quetta, north western province of Baluchistan, stayed there till she was ten or maybe slightly more. I have always assumed that she could speak a bit of Pashto though maybe lack of practice has made her lose command over it. She would often speak about her childhood spent in Quetta, the bone-chilling winter nights that she spent wrapped in a blanket with her two younger sisters, the furry dogs that her mother was so fond of, the ones that slept with her each night, the ones whom they had to give away when they moved from Quetta to Muzzafarpur in Bihar, India. She would speak about the time spent there but I mainly paid attention to the part where she would mention the haunting experiences she had staying at a place which was ravaged by a deadly earthquake in 1934. Though she wasn’t around when the actual earthquake took place, she would say that the number of unnatural deaths that it left behind, had left an eerie feel to that entire place. You see, she wasn’t a superstitious person but did believe in positive and negative energy.  She could never tell a bedtime story, she wasn’t the kind who could spin a yarn. What she could share, were her experiences.

The fact that she was a graduate from St. Xavier’s College, Ranchi, something that wasn’t too common during that timeline ensured a thought process way ahead of her times. Even marriage and three children that followed couldn’t break the aloof disposition that she had; though she was particularly close to her youngest child, her only daughter. She was an avid reader who counted Mahashweta Devi as one of her favored authors. In cinema she preferred a tragedy over a light-hearted feature for it always left her with more food for thought. Thinking, yes! That was one of her constant. One of her all-time favorite movie was this yesteryears Hindi classic called Bandhini starring Nutan (by all means, do goggle her).

I would always want to believe that I was her favorite. It gives me a certain kick to think she deemed me worthy of her affection and to that extent. No am not needy as a person but come on, who doesn’t seek the approval of someone who they look up? And if there is a chance to be their favorite, then might as well grab it. I always vied for her attention, so much so that I loved falling sick just so she would look after me. She always did.  I followed her around like one of those dogs that she had in Quetta, just that I wasn’t half as cute but yes, just as devoted.

And why wouldn’t I? After all she was the one who thought me not to be ashamed of anything about myself.  I will start off with the most pedestrian of worries that I had as an adolescent but what now feels like a blessing. Growing up, I had breasts larger than most kids of my age and my mother made sure that I felt amply embarrassed of them. I would be asked to wear tops twice my size so that they would be concealed; round-necked T-shirts were a strict no-no and so wear lighter shades of color. You see my mother always aspired for a flat-chested daughter, but alas! She got me. I surely can laugh about it now, but back then, it wasn’t the best feeling to grow up with.

This is where my grandmother stepped in with her steely sustenance, not only did she encourage me to dress the way I desired, but also made sure that I never regretted my body.  Learning to appreciate one’s body is probably one of the most essential parts of growing up.

I learnt how to be honest from her.  I learnt how to feel self-assured from her.  She taught me the power and importance of silence. She would never resort to screaming; just a glare was all that she would use to restrain someone. And restrained they would be. She was extremely observant whose analysis of the things around her was impeccable. She would always ask me to pen down my thoughts. Well that’s one advice of hers that I ardently follow.

I would always look forward Christmas for she would get me cake and buy me a Christmas tree. We would make purchases of those serial lights to put around the balcony and a big star to hang around the doorway. December used to be my favorite month until I lost her on the 3^rd of December, 2008, 6am in the morning to be precise. I was 17 then, am 23 now. The pain still the same, the dread for the last month of the year, almost the same, but I have made my peace. I don’t pray to any God anymore, all my prayers are addressed to her. It’s like IM’ing but just that her replies are not in words but actions. Whenever I miss her, I just look at myself in the mirror and try searching for that bit of her left in me somewhere. I don’t have a single picture of her in my room or anywhere, for why limit her presence in a piece of photograph when she lives on in me, my blood and my mind. She is my ideal, my support system, the one for whom I shamelessly cry, my grandmother- Anima Sanyal.  

 

 

The Seven Gym Staples

SIX DAYS A WEEK!!!!!! Ok wait that’s too much, Five days a week, yeah that sounds reasonable or maybe four is my lucky number. Yes! I will stick by that come what may!

Rain or sun

That won’t let it spoil my run!

Greetings fellow gym- goers and my dear, dear readers, this is my dilemma in the beginning of the week, the end of the week and practically the entire week when it comes to my visits to the Gym.

And once I accomplish my goal, I always make it a point to reward myself by not showing up to the gym for the entire of the following week.

But one has to admit, with a generation obsessed with junk food, which quite frankly tastes like anything but ‘junk’; Gyms are indeed a welcome conception be it for the robust fitness industry or the delusional youth that bases its standard of health and beauty completely on Photoshop. Gyms and Fitness Studios are here to stay. After all, they are not just a place where you sweat and work out. They are a social convention! A place where you can network, socialize and realize the small little quirks of the human nature, that is abundant in almost every gym based on the crowd that frequents it. And so here are a few for you to sample-

      

1. The Fitness Freaks

Now, I genuinely believed that this crowd comes solely with the purpose of giving the rest of us a complex about our bodies, though they would have you convinced that it’s their devotion to their bodies that gets them there. They look like race horses have the stamina of a war horse. They truly are an inspirational lot, well that is until they come and work out right next to you. That’s when the self-assessment part kicks in and as you would have already guessed, the margin is a little too wide. Serious, reserved and instructive these are few key words to distinguish this section from the rest of the crowd.

2. The ‘Wannabe’ Fitness Freaks

Now these are the people who are in a league of their own. Whereas the fitness freaks are at the gym, well for their genuine love for fitness, the ‘wannabe’ crowd comes for their unadulterated love for attention. Often seen lifting weights heavier than what Superman would dare and grunting louder than Sharapova in the peak of her game, you will spot them in a relatively busier time of the gym as they are at their finest when subjected to a larger audience. 

More people=More attention, Simple equation.

    

3. The ‘Selfie’ Gang

Every gym has its devoted share of members, who have at some point or the other felt this overwhelming urge to pull out their phones from their track pockets and take that sweaty Selfie while at the cross-trainer or the exer-cycle. Some seasoned ones even manage to take one while running on the treadmill. And one never fails to get creative with their selfies while the gym, mind you! So you will often spot people taking a ‘Belfie’ or the Abdominal Selfie. The ‘Pelfie’ or the pectoral Selfie and ofcourse the ‘Trelfie’ which includes tricep/bicep selfies. They are highly educational in nature as what bio class didn’t manage to teach me about the differential muscle structure in the human body, these creative individuals did. Hence more power to the Selfie gang.

  

4. The 'Extroverts'

Remember how I had said that gyms are not just a fitness institution, but a social convention! These individuals are the living embodiment of that. No matter how exhausted their work-out might leave them, they will make it a point to start a conversation, no topic in particular. These people come in very handy when the music system runs out and the silence becomes a bit too awkward to bear. They bring back the groove to the gym.

 

5. The 'Couples'

They are a relatively less troublesome lot and easy to work out around as all they expect of you is to spare one equipment beside them and work-out as they prefer to exercise alongside their partner and tend to be a little lost without one another. They communicate mostly through eye-contacts and are often found to be very encouraging of each other. Awww. 

Though the occasional PDA might be in display but most of them are gracious enough reserve it for the dimly-lit gym staircase and therefore it is advised to not exit the gym right after them. Unless you the creepy variety who likes to watch.

You don’t bother them, they don’t you, Simple reasoning.

   

6. The 'Regulars'

These people as the title would suggest are very particular about their visits to the gym. It’s like their day is just not complete without the daily round of the gym. Now whether or not they are working out and exercising during their time at the gym is subjective, but they make it a point to be seen at the gym. I fall in this category as irrespective of my goal in terms of fitness, I make it a point to pay my dutiful visits to this temple of fitness at least four times a week.

    

7. The 'Irregulars'

Often mistaken to be new members due to their ones in a blue moon appearance and limited memory span of the gym-staples, these people come to gym only under two conditions-

i.              Their membership is nearing expiration or has expired and needs renewal

ii.               I honestly am unsure of the other reason and trust me I have tried to find out but they are just so rare in their appearances, I always miss out.

Call them the usual hook-up central or a place to get some candy for the eyes, you sure as hell cannot deny the importance of gyms in our lives. I most definitely cannot. Working out till I die!