Karmic Retribution

The film, ‘Gangs of Wasseypur’ is my personal favourite because of its in-your-face, gritty, raw appeal that I found very endearing. I’ve watched this three hour movie twice only because I had to miss the final 45 minutes of the film the first time around. But no one who has loved the movie will ever forget the scene in Part I that led to the infamously famous dialogue, “तुमसे ना हो पाएगा…” - the panache with which those lines were delivered was simply terrific!

There was a certain definiteness to it which is in complete contrast to the inquisitorial  " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? " that i'm afflicted by when my capabilities are under dubious scrutiny (courtesy my skinniness).

Allow me to elaborate with live examples:

Me: “Let me help you with those boxes.”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: “Could I give you hand with your bags?”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *lugs her own bags on the shoulders*

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: “Okay, the starters aren’t enough. We should call the waiter for our order. I need more food.”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *when finally the main course is out of the way* “I want dessert.”

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *when I decide to pick whiskey over beer*

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

Me: *when I’m pumped and revved up about an outdoor activity. Think: running, cycling, trekking, rafting*

Them: " क्या तुमसे हो पाएगा ? "

It has begun to humour me that people go about casting those aspersions at me only because of my apparent not-so-ampleness for I’m the sort who goes by: ‘Seeing is believing’. And rather ironically on many an instance like those highlighted above for every single time they were flagged (whether under the guise of concern or for the purpose of ridicule), I’ve been able to k!ck a$$ real bad.

And for the purposes of my entertainment perhaps, I’ve been a witness to circumstances where someone either couldn’t manage their bags/luggage or had way too much leftover food or got too tipsy after their first pint of beer or gave up on their outdoor activity mid-way because they couldn’t keep at it… All while I’m silently smirking with a thought bubble over my head, “ तुमसे ना हो पाया।  रहेनेदे "

Chocoholics Anonymous

Just when I’d begun to think that I had a handle on this ‘Hey! You’ve lost weight!’ moment of conversation with people – both fiend and friend alike – I stop getting poked with jibes. And I say this rather wistfully.
Why? Well…
I haven’t been able to come up with a theme to write around my ‘not-so-ampleness’ since quite some time now; except of course for a snippet or two around phases where I’ve mentioned how I cannot stop gorging on food!

Hence, I conclude that I’m a lost-in-transition-skinny.

Except that there is one recurrent theme - now that I think about it *the grin of redemption*- : every time I decline chocolate!

Yeah, I hear the gasps; see the sympathetic looks and the likes.  The gods deemed it this way and I’ll come to the why in a lil bit (though most now have heard of it already)

What makes this tragedy the most farcical manoeuvre by the story writers of my life is that I (*sucks air in*) used to be (yeah, past tense) a chocoholic, a compulsive one at it. That just makes the present, imperfect (punning the grammar)!

Birthdays, festivities, celebrations, random celebrations or just plain ole’ randomness like someone returning from a holiday in the Swiss Alps (yeah, random no?) just mandates that there be chocolates on the table, in the fridge, as takeaways. Except in my tummy!

Why? Not because *ahemming and rolling eyes out* I’m on a diet!

Gah! Who goes on a diet and strikes chocolates off their list?

Who then strikes chocolates off their list, you ask? Well, someone with a medical condition so acute that self-restraint is much less painful than consumption itself. I’m going to spare you’ll the gory details of what happens if and when I do eat chocolate. Because you’re going to have to trust me when I say that I went through the excruciatingly painful procedure of monitoring my food in-take over a period of time (read: months) only to forcibly reckon myself with the ‘fact’ that all my woes and inconveniences were linked to - *heart skips a beat* - chocolates!

Yes, I gambled a little with my fate. So, though I knew I still didn’t exercise any self-restraint and the b!tc# came to bite me back (you know where).

So here I am with a condition that similar to my size has the capacity to evoke among people a similar reaction (read: eyebrows disappearing into their receding hairlines; shock, awe and pity) while I, the evolved dessertarian have moved on to explore flavours, finer tastes and eclectic delights outside of the cocoa world that leave me at an equally happy (if not happier) place.

Finally one shout-out  goes out to my bum-chums who have now taken it upon themselves to never order anything chocolate (even when it’s their own birthday or reason to call for a celebration) because of this lone ranger. There’s a heightened secret sense of camaraderie when there are 6 heads and 6 pairs of hands fighting it un-fair and square for the last crumb of dessert on the table…and happiness is a grin whipped across our faces!