Battling with ‘Da Invincible’

Battling with ‘Da Invincible’

With the collective contributions of my cook and friend, I managed to get back from uncle-hood to boy-hood, but the transition was short-lived, writes Shiv Sethi


Like a modern lover’s promises, new year resolutions are also subject to the risk of breakage. People hardly stick to the new year resolutions they make. A few years ago during a new year bash, a female friend  approached me when I was revelling in the merriments. I had a glass of whisky in one hand and a well-roasted piece of chicken in the other. Not seeming to be bothered about exchanging any pleasantries, she straight away began to give her opinion about my flabby physique and compared me with one of her obese uncles.

Now this was no sweet music and least melodious making the chicken insipid. Many times with my carefree attitude I had taken such comments in my stride. But such a shocking revelation from a female friend really mattered to a boy who was standing in the matrimonial queue at that time.

Shaken and shattered, the next morning, I woke up quite early with my firm new year resolution about waging a war against my flab. An immediate meeting with the family cook was convened. He was handed over a painstakingly self-designed diet regimen. The menu comprised bland foods with minimal fats. Though my dictatorial orders had left the cook red in the face because in the winter season, additional cooking had come in his way. Finally sensing the sincerity of my so far firm resolution and the gravity of the matter, there came a complete surrender from his side. The directives issued to him were obediently followed. It was also time for me to quieten my taste buds for the non-vegetarian delicacies and junk food. The temptations of the tongue were resisted rigorously. Only the unavoidable weddings in the family were attended that too, with the muzzled mouth.   

The awakening soon dawned upon me that mere dietary changes were not enough to defeat my stubborn stout belly. The regime was to be accompanied with strenuous physical activities to turn lean and light for which I had to tinker my working hours. Evenings were booked for jogging and aerobics. As a Good Samaritan, I also started contributing to the ‘pollution-free drive’ by peddling the distance to my college in a newly-bought bicycle. 

After my cook, it was testing time for my close friend. To his utter displeasure, I had chosen him as a companion for the evening jogging and aerobic sessions without his consent. After all a friend in need was a friend indeed. Two months later when I stepped up on the weighing machine, oh God, the results were marvellous. I had managed to shed 7 kg. With the collective contributions of my cook and friend, I was back again from uncle-hood to boy-hood. The success called for a treat for both the contributors in my battle against the bulge — as one had slogged in the kitchen and the other sweated it out for me. Probably. It was a moment when I again began to limp back to my ordinary habits with ‘extraordinary’ consequences. My taste buds for junk food were raising their heads again. The bicycle was replaced by a car. As my friend got too busy to join me for the evening sessions (it was just an excuse guys) how could I continue with my lonely jogging sessions? Unluckily, my new year resolution also met the same fate and left me with a bulging belly again. 


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