My unexpected tryst with Ayurveda – Part I

1I’ve been going through some personal problems and issues over the past few months and couldn’t update my blog, and i apologize to my followers for the same. Having taken some firm yet right decisions, and choosing to move ahead of all the baggage that was pulling me down , in the course of life, I’m now almost a new person. New resolutions, new fronts to explore and the most important part – a complete rejuvenating coming back to my funny self. Let me elaborate on something that I was sweetly suggested ( read forcefully and emotionally blackmailed ) by my mom.

Having come down to Kerala for events and part leisure, it was invigorating welcoming the new year with my best friends Gregary and Pradeep. After a hell of a start for new year, the “baggages” that i mentioned previously had to be dealt with finally. After that , one fine day I received a call from mom. This is how the conversation went

Mom – “Hi mone. Did you get up?”

Me – (yawwwnn)…. “hmmmmm”

Mom – “Get up you lazy-ass. How can you keep sleeping with the sun shining on your ass?”

Me – “Watch me doing it now..” And I cut the phone and went back to snoring. 😛

Tring.. Tring.. Again my mom was calling. I snatched the phone.

Mom – ” How dare you? I’ve had enough of your nature. You are going today itself to XYZ earth clinic and getting treated for your health and obesity!” shouted my mom.

Me – ” What on earth is wrong with you? Can’t you sit one single day without calling me and ruining it from the start?” I grumbled incoherently. But my sweet( read incessant and irritating) mom, heard it clearly and said

Mom – “I am ruining the day from the start of it, huh? Its bloody 1 pm in the afternoon and you claim it to be the start of your day.” That was it. I was check mated. Finally I had to agree as I really needed to complete the dream I was passionately dreaming.

After waking up, I called up the clinic, and was asked to come in person to discuss the treatment plans. Finally the day was fixed to start . I woke up early and went to the clinic, surging with optimism of sporting a 6 pack and visions of sexy chicks hanging on my toned biceps. 😛 As I reached there, I was asked to wait until the doctor could come to meet me. Meanwhile I was looking around and I saw lots of girls sporting the clinic’s t-shirts, and it was clear to me that they were the masseuses, in charge of the patients. I was already feeling goosebumps as I dreamt of one of them massaging me with warm oil and really loosening up my body. Brrr….

Finally the doctor came, and after the formalities of joining, I was asked to go inside a treatment room and wait for the massage person to come. I was walking up and down, thinking how I would introduce myself to the masseuse and flattened a spot of hair , looking at the mirror. I was looking out the window when I heard the door open with a wide smile on my face, ready to jump and shake hands with the masseuse. But my wide smile suddenly died a terrible death, as I saw myself staring at a 6 ft 4 in , black male person, who seemed like the distant cousin of Khali. He took my outstretched palm and gave something that he defined as handshake, but which for me felt like being taken in by a sugar cane crushing machine. I felt a terror as he ran his hands around my shoulders and dropped them to my hips. He squeezed them hard and I cut down the urge to run from the place clutching myself crying “Bachaooo… Bachaoo..!!”. He then suddenly commented ” There seems to be a bit accumulated flab. But nothing that I wont be able to deal with”. Finally it dawned on me , he is checking my body for its structure and felt a bit relieved. But the horror wasn’t over.

He suddenly pulled out a white , almost translucent piece of gauze like cloth with 2 long strings and asked me to strip. “What?!” I shouted. He patiently said ” You’ve to strip down for the massage, as this is to be done practically naked”. My eyes are gone wide open and I was looking at a way to escape. However the only door was blocked by his gargantuan body and all my hopes died down. I resigned to my fate and looked for the changing room. I had my next consecutive shock. THERE WAS NONE! Suddenly the “masseur” pulled off my t-shirt and pulled down my jeans in one smooth move. I was practically standing there in my boxers and was gasping for breath with the shock of all that happened. Just when I thought that it was over and that I might have to tie the gauze cloth over my undies, so as the oil to not stain it ; God…. was I wrong! He came behind me and tied the string around my waist. And then, he snatched down my only piece of honor remaining. I was in such a horrific state of shock and terror, as my mind started running parallel scenarios of me naked with this man , inside the treatment room! And then he took the long remaining piece of the cloth and pulled it in between my legs and hooked it over the string. ” There! Now you look perfect” claimed the masseur. I looked myself in the mirror and was numb seeing me buck naked except for the translucent cloth almost covering just the main parts it was assumed to do so. I was ranting away in my mind a choice of expletives against my mom, who had forced me to undergo this almost emotionally scarring experience.

But I was soon to realize this was nothing but just the start of a complete mind and body rape that I was to undergo under the hands of the cousin of Khali.

(to be continued… )


Engineering to Events management – The twisted paths of a new generation kid! Part I

I will admit that out of approximately 150 working days in an academic year for my affiliated university, where I did my engineering, I must have attended wholly around 20 classes. About 10 bunked midway. The rest, bunked wholly. And well .. I wouldn’t claim to be repentant and everything ( shut up, consciousness ! ). But I enjoyed every bit of my college life. Almost… Well not fully… Allow me to explain.

I started college in the monsoon of August. I mean do we Indians have any other season other than summer and monsoon? 😛 I remember when my mom ,sis and bro along with a couple of aunts, and some uncles and some cousins and few of their friends, waved me off from the railway station, as I set journey down the path, that my dad and mom had diligently thought of (read stubbornly fixed) since my inception! I was seriously homesick and I missed my mom and those aunts , and those few uncles and my cousins and their few friends , like hell after reaching the place, that would eventually bring about a lot of memories for me. Chennai. The land of sambar vadas and jasmine flowers. The land of Rajinikanth and MGR. The land of my future love(s) and heart breaks.

The first year was pure torture. The whole ‘tamil’ factor was very unsettling. It started from the dinner , the very first day of arrival. As I was given a plate, bucket, mug, mattress and a pillow at the mess hall, I was reminded of being taken in as a prisoner in some central jail.  As I watched , there was a ‘master’ (tamilians address head chef this way). He rang a bell, and out came few lungi clad minions the kind of what u saw in ‘Chennai Express’ complete with long greasy oily hair, coloured vests and holy threads on their arms. Carrying in between them , were 3 huge vessels having rice, some curry (that I till now have no idea what it was), and buttermilk. Like hungry poor somalian children ,we all have seen pathetically waiting for morsels of red cross food, we were in the queue. As I came up the counter, my eyes were roving over the entire setup ( which in hindsight, I shudn’t have 😦 ). As I extended my plate out, I saw one of the hairy minions, digging into the rice vessel with a plate. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was, the said minion, had pasty pulps of rice in between his nails, something so long, that it would have put Wolverine’s claws to so much shame, that he would have cut his own balls off with them claws! I’m not kidding folks, even though I would have dearly preferred that, to this. However it’s true. Moving on , some semi solid oozy mass of curry was smacked on my plate. The next scene, is what took my entire concept of disgust to heights hitherto unexplored nor felt. As I came on to the buttermilk serving minion, I saw him dipping a cup into the tummy height vessel, that was being kept on a stool. HIS ENTIRE HAIRY ARMPITS WERE WET WITH THE BUTTERMILK AS HE SCOOPED IT INTO THE CUP, TO SLOSH IN MY PLATE!! The moment he did this , I threw up in my mouth and I ran, and slept for the very first time in my life hungry and starving. And it followed every single night from then for some or the other displays of hair, skin, cockroaches (in cauliflower curry), frogs (in chicken gravy) and even baby rats(amid sacks of potatoes).

After tons of ragging , getting physically handled, I scraped wounded through engineering. As the flight rolled for takeoff from Chennai to Dubai, to meet my parents for my semester leave, I wished I never should come back. And to add to my desperation, my own parents didn’t recognise me at the airport arrivals. They were expecting their portly chubby 90 kg son to walk out. However I walked past them smiling, and they never knew it was me. I then went back , and called them out. As they turned around, I still remember, both of their mouth’s opened wide in shock. I now weighed 67 kg and my oversize clothes flapped around me. My mom cried and hugged me. My dad just stood there. Rest of my leave was spent in getting new clothes, mom fussing around on menus for new variety foods, and siblings smirking at my college stories. I was at peace. But not for long.

(to be continued)…….