It has taken me many, many days (sounds better than putting the actual number of months) to shake off my lethargy and begin my evening walks at Maddox Square, which is right next door. [The thought however had occured to me many many days earlier - full points to me for that, at least]. Then one humid evening, I just did it - went for a walk that is. And found several problems, not the least being shoes.
My sneakers are packed away some where and so I went out in a really comfortable pair of rubber sandals. They provide a nice grippy cushion to my heels much in the manner of a pair of sneakers. I however felt very very conscious. Thought everyone was staring at my feet. Perhaps they were. So what? So, everything it seems (to me). Also, I was terribly out of shape, out of breath. Geriatrics were running rings around me. There I was panting and gasping and barely managing 4 laps before giving up. Perhaps this was enough - I was soaked to skin and so it must mean I had achieved a lot. [Kolkata is almost always 100% humid and so even if I just sat smelling the roses in the park, I'd have gotten sweaty].
Perhaps if I got a better pair of shoes. I have this pair of keds (looked smart when I bought it) in bright RED and BLUE (that would be scarlet and turquoise blue). I put them on and asked R if she thought I'd need socks. Nah - I don't think so - just go ahead. So I did. And it was even worse. People (I thought) were now staring at me and for a proper reason....I was looking ridiculous in a pair of shoes that would look better on a teenager and top of that I was gasping, panting (as usual) and now limping! One lap around the park in my sock-less keds and I had blisters on both my smallest toes and a goodish bit of skin skimmed off my ankles. Oh god. I however, soldiered on and finished my four laps and spent the next few days recovering. While I waited for the ankle to grow new skin, I wore my comfy sandals and hey ... now I had an excuse...should anyone ask that is: My ankle has grazed...I cant wear a sneaker till they heal. No one asked, alas. And then
Good news: I found my sneakers. A bit worse for wear but they are fine. More on that in a subsequent post...
Friday, July 25, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Sparing the rod
There were no really small kids in our bus, when we were studying in Kuwait. The youngest was in class V. The trip to and back from school was relatively peaceful. Most of us caught up on our sleep specially in the morning (our school began at 7am).
One day, after school, I went with a friend to her home and therefore took a different bus. There were only 4 seniors in the bus. Rest were all tiny tots, squeezed 4-5 to a seat! Once the bus started ...oh my god. The kids were everywhere except their seats - half inclined over the back rest, climbing up the large windows, lurching in the aisle and more often than not, flat on their back. Oh and the DIN. It was INCREDIBLE.
The ones in front were, for the lack of a suitable word to describe them, the MOSTEST. I guess they were kept there so that the driver and his helper could keep an eye on them. Except for me, no one batted an eyelid. Certainly not the driver and his helper who carried on a conversation in malyali. The driver would take a turn, stop at the traffic light, change a gear, box a child, pick up another crawling child by his or her galices, pick up the heavy wooden ruler and rap loudly on the engine to stop a child from crawling under his foot to press the brake or something. God.
Now, why this rambling post? Was reminded by the Parliamentary debate before the Trust Vote yesterday and today. Hardly a debate....more an uproar. The Hon'ble Speaker Mr. Somnath Chatterjee's exasperation was so apparent. I was feeling incredibly sorry for him. He goes on and on in his stenorian bengali accented voice,"Will you keep quite? / No I cannot give you more time / Please sit down / This is TOO much / etc!! And even as I was writing this post, he adjourned the session twice and sad this was the worst day that he had ever seen in Parliament.
Pity, the Hon'ble Speaker hasn't been given a heavy ruler to maintain decorum of the hallowed institution. So it is left to his fervent, sad appeals to maintain peace and quiet and dignity of the Parliamentary tradition and all that.
One day, after school, I went with a friend to her home and therefore took a different bus. There were only 4 seniors in the bus. Rest were all tiny tots, squeezed 4-5 to a seat! Once the bus started ...oh my god. The kids were everywhere except their seats - half inclined over the back rest, climbing up the large windows, lurching in the aisle and more often than not, flat on their back. Oh and the DIN. It was INCREDIBLE.
The ones in front were, for the lack of a suitable word to describe them, the MOSTEST. I guess they were kept there so that the driver and his helper could keep an eye on them. Except for me, no one batted an eyelid. Certainly not the driver and his helper who carried on a conversation in malyali. The driver would take a turn, stop at the traffic light, change a gear, box a child, pick up another crawling child by his or her galices, pick up the heavy wooden ruler and rap loudly on the engine to stop a child from crawling under his foot to press the brake or something. God.
Now, why this rambling post? Was reminded by the Parliamentary debate before the Trust Vote yesterday and today. Hardly a debate....more an uproar. The Hon'ble Speaker Mr. Somnath Chatterjee's exasperation was so apparent. I was feeling incredibly sorry for him. He goes on and on in his stenorian bengali accented voice,"Will you keep quite? / No I cannot give you more time / Please sit down / This is TOO much / etc!! And even as I was writing this post, he adjourned the session twice and sad this was the worst day that he had ever seen in Parliament.
Pity, the Hon'ble Speaker hasn't been given a heavy ruler to maintain decorum of the hallowed institution. So it is left to his fervent, sad appeals to maintain peace and quiet and dignity of the Parliamentary tradition and all that.
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