Gymnastics or the cult
of bodybuilding is an institution like marriage: those who are in, having already burnt their fingers once, try to
lure those who are out. It was thus a fitness-crazy friend of mine who introduced
me to jogging as the best and simplest form of exercise. I was already
a physical culture faddist and had by then tried all types of exercises from
aerobics to 'Soorya Namaskar's and had used almost every health appliance in the
market, from Bullworker to Stepper, without adding as much as an extra inch to my biceps to show off. So, going in for
jogging in right earnestness, one day, I bought for myself a brand new pair of white 'Reeboks', to which I
applied a brilliant white coat of 'Blanche'. For my 'jogging' uniform, I found an old pair of Bermuda
shorts, a sleeveless vest and a pair of socks. Lastly, before going to bed that night, I carefully set
the alarm clock to ring at exactly five, next morning.
The alarum went off promptly at the set
time. I jumped out of the bed, had a quick wash and changed into my jogging
attire. Taking care not to awaken others still enjoying their early morning
slumber, I slipped outside,
to find not a soul in the streets. The watchman was fast asleep; a stray dog
looked at me quizzically and decided to ignore me. There was an eerie silence
in the air, not even a cock crowing or a bird chirping. I felt a trifle scared
initially, but started jogging, all the same, at a slow, even pace. After I had
jogged for about two to three kilometers, however, I felt tired and decided to
call it a day — for the first
day, it was certainly more than enough. When I had rested a bit on one of the
benches in the Chembur municipal
garden, I suddenly started sneezing; probably, I was going to catch a cold, I
thought. The sound must have made a police constable sleeping on the next bench jump in
his seat. He gave me a rather cold, irritated look. I returned a sheepish smile
for an apology and quickly decided to move on.
I couldn't have blamed the policeman. After all, I was feeling a bit sleepy myself, which was but natural having got
up so early. So, deciding to return home by a shorter route, I stealthily
entered the compound of the police commissioner's bungalow nearby. I cut across
the sprawling lawns and slowly eased myself through the barbed wire fence at
the other end. After I had safely passed through without hurting myself, I straightened up, with a sigh of
relief, only to find myself standing face-to-face with that ferocious
looking, sleepy-eyed policeman from the municipal garden! Obviously, he had
been following me on suspicion and now he appeared very much pleased with
himself for having caught a burglar in the act
of fleeing away from the scene of his crime, which in this case happened to be
the Commissionersaab's abode! What
more could a poor police constable ever ask for! He gave me a thorough look-over, from top to bottom, fixing
his gaze finally on my Bermuda shorts. I gave him a rather nervous smile and tried to explain that I was out
only for an innocent, jogging exercise. But, somehow, the policeman
didn't seem to believe me.
" Aarre! Jogging at two-thirty in the middle of the night? Go, tell it to some Lalloo", he said. I knew then that my alarm clock had let me down again! The inspector at the
police station wouldn't believe me, either. I was detained for the rest
of the night and released only at seven next morning, after getting a clearance
from the police commissioner who, fortuitously, happened to be known to my
brother-in-law! On my way back home, I met several people from the office
rushing towards the railway station to catch their train. Some stared at me
looking askance with raised eyebrows while some young lasses giggled at my unusual costume. I have never felt so
embarrassed in my life.
At the entrance to
our colony, Dr. Gulvady, who was just returning from his morning
'constitutional', joined me;
his walk was so brisk that, to keep in step, I had to almost jog once again! As
I thus hurried home with the doctor in tow,
a colleague, Mr. Somnathan passed by on his two-wheeler, waiving at us with
a queer, perplexed look on his face. When I reached the office that morning, I
had a call from Mr. Somnathan and several others, all making discrete inquiries
about the health of my ailing father !
I kept up my jogging for several years. Now,
at the age of seventy, I do some rudimentary exercises every morning, so far as
my arthritis permits. For the rest of the day, however, I practice my most
favorite posture in Yoga, called the Shavasana!
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published Kanara Saraswat, LXXXIV,No.8,(Aug 2003),p29
