It is nice to be back in Srishti Apartments after months of absence. You are greeted either with a, “Oh God, you have pulled down,” (a negative statement you welcome as in a lab report) or, “Now you look healthy” (a mild hint that you have put on weight).
Physical fitness fervor in Srishti is at its best on this visit. The ladies’ yoga sessions continue unabated. It seems the group had a go at a potluck lunch to celebrate its fifth or sixth anniversary. Morning walkers can seldom miss their chant of Om and Gayatri mantra - maybe in varying volumes and modulations, but it establishes their unity in diversity
The one that steals the show however is the yoga lessons a group of office-goers, and in some cases their spouses and children, undergo early morning in the basketball court. Their teacher prefers “Sahana Bhavatu, Sahanao Bhunaktu…,” the peace mantra from Kata Upanishad, for invocation. His resonating voice can give Harish Bhimani, of the Mahabharata serial introductory-remarks fame, a run for his money. Sorry Srishti-ites, only RAC or Waiting list booking is open.
This is not to rob you of the pleasant sight of the Karate session that goes on in the evening. Donning their all-white uniforms with their respective well-earned grades of belts around, it is a treat to watch young children attempt the various forms in unison. Unlike yoga, this provides the younger generation their much-needed freedom to shout at will as part of the regimen as they enact their action-packed movements a la Bruce Lee.
The male elderly group lags behind in no measure. In the evenings one can watch them take steps with military precision, but in super slow motion. Given a pair of cymbals each, this group can easily pass for a Bhajan troupe doing parkirama or pradakshinam of the complex praying for the welfare of the residents. The topics they cover could be the day’s TV news, the flourishing garbage warehouse adjacent to A Block with sorting centre and pick up facilities added, or to its minuscule companion in B Block but in much closer proximity to compensate.
The young mothers are a group in themselves. With time constraints weighing in their minds as homemakers and having to give attention to children, they walk on a fast track. At the wink of eyes, they are at the other end.
These activities take me down the memory lane on my own efforts to keep fit 45 years ago. First it was a gadget called Bullworker that promised to make a Mohammad Ali out of me. With Mohammad Ali or even his distant cousin nowhere in sight after a couple of months, I switched my allegiance to another gadget, Tummy Trimmer. However, owing to constant non-use the trimmer itself developed tummy. A few more fitness equipment till my mother, mild in nature otherwise, came heavily on me, “I can take no more of decorative pieces in the drawing for dusting.”
I picked up weightlifting this time. After weeks of preparatory workouts the instructor who had won the “Mr Delhi” title inducted me to the actual lifting of the bar. I lifted it with full vigor and, can you believe it, held on to it for full five minutes. He patted me and said, “Very good. This time you raised it up to the ankle. Next time you bring it to the knee level.” “Not my cup of tea,” I said to myself and moved on.
14 April 2011
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