Weighty Issues

Like many women, I have always had problems with my weight.

 Many of you I’m sure can relate to the multiple wardrobes, diet plans, lapsed gym memberships et al.

My weight issues I put down to genetics ………………………

•  I seem to have missed out on the ‘I forget to eat’ gene that my middle sister has.  Needless to say she is a slip of a thing. 
•  I also seem to have missed out on the ‘willpower ‘gene that my mother has, who for most of her life, in spite of her love for food has managed to stay slim and fit.
•  And finally I seem to have missed out on the ‘when I make my mind up to do something, I do it’ gene that my youngest sister has – wherein like me she tends to put on weight but very quickly gets back into the habit eating properly and doing yoga regime so she does not seesaw too much. 

I, on the other hand tend to seesaw around 15 kgs which is unbelievable I know – but there it is.  I won’t go into the struggles and shenanigans I go through and have gone through to shift the weight as reams and reams has been written on the subject by folk more erudite than myself.   I know all the theory and can pontificate on the subject of safe weight loss and fitness till the cows come home (which they tend to !).  I just put it down to my three missing genes.

Having lived many years abroad I have adopted the attitude that if you want to comment on someone’s weight you only do so if they have lost it (assuming they were overweight in the first place)  – in a positive and congratulatory manner - and why not ?

They have probably worked their butt off to get to that stage, it makes them happy and it is a conversation starter.  You can spend the next 15 minutes talking about how they did it, asking for pointers (to add to your already encyclopedic knowledge of weight loss) and in doing so contribute to helping them keep it off, as the positive reactions are a great incentive. 

Of course, if you meet these people in the pub, depending on their character it could go one of two ways

1. They have given up drink for the weight loss and have become boring old farts and the night seems to go on forever, and the 15 minute conversation stretches interminably….OR
2.  They are sensible and realize this is a social event and drink as per normal – this then leads to an early feeling of squiffiness on their part as now they eat less and drink less and their bodies are not used to it as much as before – which results in an fun-filled raucous evening for all (most of my mates luckily fall into this category)

In India, however, I have noticed that folk be they male or female, be they friends or family, be they acquaintances or professionals – will immediately tell you that you have put on weight.  Since I have put on a lot this behavior has become more apparent to me recently.  No niceties, no subtleties they just come out with it. 

I walked into my CA’s office recently and the first thing he said was ‘you have put on weight’ – I was not surprised as the last time I saw him he started our meeting with the same comment – so this time I laughed and told him I was expecting him to say this and his response was ‘well its true no ?’.  You can’t argue with that !

I don’t find behavior like this offensive at all but find it vaguely amusing.  I always want to react with ‘Oh really ? I had’nt noticed’ or ‘OMG when did this happen I was fine when I woke up this morning’ or ‘Well I can lose my weight but you will always be an ugly bast??d’, or Well I can lose my weight but you will always be ??????????(Insert  your own epi thet here)

                                                                                                                                                                    

The same thing applies to your tan …………as over here in the land of ‘fair and lovely’ having a tan is considered a negative attribute.   

I think folk should stop stating the obvious – yes I know I’ve become dark (it’s the sun you know and actually I prefer being brown than a dodgy yellowy colour) - yes I know I’ve put on weight (it’s the genes your know !). 

There are much nicer ways to greet someone…………So next time how about ‘Hi – great to see you – it’s been so long !’ – or ‘Hi, great to see you,  what’s been going on – tell me all !’  or even a ‘sup’ !  Whatever happened to the wonderful ‘Namaste’ ?

I shall now go to my ‘fat’ wardrobe and don something to go to brunch with my mate !

This I write for KC and AP who have long been on the seesaw with me but seem to have finally gotten off it …………………………. I am sooooooooooooooooooooooo proud of you guys !

Rambo

Rambo is mother’s trusty steed, a 25 year-old Maruti high-domed van that has seen better days.  It is the colour of dust and every few years it gets ‘tarted up’ with a dusty-coloured-goldy paint.  What lurks underneath that paint does not bear thinking about.

Rambo is a bit like the bionic man, he’s had most parts replaced at some time or the other and my mom is always singing his praises.  If he breaks down, then it’s ‘well he’s so old what do you expect………..just need to replace the gear box, the steering, the brake pads, the………………’ list is endless’.  Right now during my last visit it was something to do with gears. 

If one dares criticize Rambo, even backed by the fact he is sitting outside the house raised on bricks so the mechanic can get underneath to perform some surgery, she falls back on “ …… but he has a strong heart an amazing engine………the Maruti Service centre chap says his engine perfect” .  I am sure the guy at the Maruti Service Center would say anything to get Rambo off his forecourt.  She now has her own mechanic who comes once a month to repair and replace the various ailing bits of Rambo.

My mom drives like a maniac.  There are no ifs ands or buts about that fact.  She naturally denies this fact vehemently. She always contends that she is a safe driver and has never had an accident.  In fact, according to her, she will never have an accident as she has a well-aspected Mars.  One cannot argue with such logic !  

She loves the horn and one of her low points in life that I remember is when Rambo came back from a service with a horn that sounded like a sad wet kitten (I am sure the garage did this on purpose!).  My mom was aghast ……….how will she get through the bazaar with folk parking here there and everywhere, with the vegetablewallas encroaching on the road, with the rickshaw drivers (most of them illegal) taking over the town center.  The people in Dahanu were even more aghast because now they had no prior warning of mom’s arrival into town.  Luckily this lasted only two days and after taking Rambo to her ‘carelectrics’ bloke, the natural balance was restored in her life and the town.

What I have not told you is that my mom is very focused when she drives.  She has unintentionally hurt the sentiments of many a Dahanuwalla by not returning their waves and nods as she passes them by.  She has the razor sharp focus on the road ahead of her and ignores everything else around her.  I would like to tell the Dahanuwallas not to take this personally ……she once had to pick me up from the station, I told her if she was not there that I would start walking on her side of the road……….so she knew I was walking and as I saw her coming I waved and waved and yet she paid me no attention.  I had to literally jump in front of the car for her to stop …………..well I guess that’s a testament to her reflexes that she actually did not run me over!

My mother is 77 years-old, but as she is wont to overstate her age, let’s say she is 78.  Being so mature, she now suffers from aged-related macular degeneration and in one eye it is pretty advanced.  Has this stopped her driving – heck no ! Macular degeneration causes you to lose your central vision but you maintain your peripheral vision – so maybe she’ll be more aware of what’s around her right side and have the razor sharp focus on the left side.  And don’t even ask why we don’t get her a driver…………….I have given up on that argument! 

Getting fed up of the Rambo shenanigans, my sisters and I, gave mom a new (second-hand in good nick) Maruti Van for her 75^th birthday (tried to put the driver into the mix but she was having none of it).  It had to be a van nothing else would do.  Mom found it too nice, she could not go riding round the farm, she was worried about carrying the gas cylinders, the fertilizer, the plastic pipes in it, it was too nice and she was not happy with it.  After a few months of mutterings and grumblings about its inadequacies compared to Rambo she sold it.  She used the money to make some repairs to the house and of course to tart up Rambo.

I used to own a very battered Maruti WagonR when I last lived in Pune, which I took back to Dahanu when I moved there for a few years.  I left it at my mother’s when I returned to Pune for mom to use as a backup when her trusty steed let her down ……….say once a month.  I never had the courage to tell my mother this was the reason as it would be an insult to Rambo’s izzat  – so as far as mom was concerned my car was there for when I visited her place.

Unfortunately my car got stolen, we believe, by a bhayya who danced naked once in front of members of my family, but that’s another story!

So now mom is left with Rambo, sans replacement.  Will she continue to give him unwavering loyalty? Only time will tell – let’s see what happens when Rambo lets her down (which he will) and she has no backup.

However, Rambo will be with her in the afterlife.  My mom wants to get buried on the farm.  I have told her that if she wants to be buried on the farm she needs to organize the digging of the hole where she wants.  She needs to get written permission from the Tehsildar, Talati et al.  We have strict instructions to plant a wild fig tree for the birds on top of where she lays and to have a huge party for the Adivasis.  All of this I will do, but I will also ensure that the hole is big enough so mom can be buried in her beloved Rambo with her hand on the horn !

'izzat' for the non-indian means prestige, honour , respect.