Leotards anyone? (published in Deccan Herald in 1995).

These are just some fun pictures of Aerobics class nothing to do with Leotards

The last three years have seen me exercising with a vengence : yoga,  swimming calisthenics, aerobics,  gym workouts--- you name it,  I have done it. By now you  would think I had  a Karishma Kapoor figure. But alas, I am nowhere near it.  I am still aerobically  chasing  the ever elusive hour glass figure.

All these years I had been exercising wearing jogging pants or ordinary tights and baggy shirts. I wasn't burning any fat dressed in such mundane outfits.  A change in strategy may do the trick, I  thought.  I would now workout in leotards--just like those beautiful bodies you  see on the TV fitness shows.

 With renewed hope and enthusiasm, I set out  to shop for leotards. I let loose my imagnation, picturing myself in the most becoming leotards-- flowered tights, dark body huggers , sedate pastels etc.  Soon,  I felt, I could stand up to a Karishma or a Mamta Kulkarni. ( these were the famous heroines of that time)

I entered a big department store and asked to be shown some leotards. To my surprise the salesgirl led me to the toys section. When I told her I wanted to see leotards , she looked at me strangely  and affirmed that there were plenty of Leo Toys to be found--I could take my pick .  Either my pronounciation was bad , or her hearing was poor (or both),  when I patiently repeated my request,  she blinked in utter confusion.

Finally I explained I wanted an exercise dress which was called leotards.  Visibly relieved,  the poor girl confessed to having only jogging suits.  In my next outing, having bought a pair of sports shoes,  I went across to a sports shop to buy a pair of cotton socks,  seeing a variety of sports dresses on display, I couldn't resist the temptation to ask the salesman for leotards (silently praying that he should understand me).

One look at his face told me my prayers had gone unanswered. He went, "He, he,he!" and in heavy,  Malayalee- accented Kannada he proceeded to give me directions to the nearest Leo Toys shop. To add insult to injury my husband chose this time to educate me on  pronounciation.

 You see, he is considered a sort of authority on pronounciation in our family --- when boys of his age were reading Biggles for fun , he was busy memorising Webster's page after page .  But I was wary,  knowing too well his passion for pulling one's leg.

He said I might have better success if I pronounced correctly,  viz. le-tards, the "o" being silent.  Right then and there,  I wanted to roll the new pair of socks into an "O"  and silence him forever. 

A few days later,  as I was window shopping,  I came across a big,  exclusive Leo Toys shop with eager looking salespeople peering out. Feeling a little reckless,  I thought I might have some fun for a change, stepping in and asking for leotards.

Imagine my surprise when the manager pulled out stacks and stacks of leotards in a variety of colours and prints! "Ma'am",  he confided in me,  "all leotards seekers in Bangalore eventually end up at my store.

What is your  preference? Lycra or Cotton?"

Did you have fun reading this?
Do you have something similar to share with me?

A Brief Encounter With A Saint Bernard And Its Master

My husband and I were slowly cruising in Indira Nagar (Bangalore), in one of its narrow Cross Roads, when through the car window I spotted a handsome, awesome looking St. Bernard, being taken for a walk. He was big and cute : I also noticed he was squeaking clean, jouncing, along sniffing at the bushes, as though hunting for some hidden treasure. I love dogs, especially, the big, friendly and really cuddly dogs. I didn't pay much attention to the man with the dog, enamoured and engrossed as I was, having eyes only for the big creature.

Then, barely giving a fleeting glance at the Dog Walker, I noticed he was wearing an outfit, dark blue in colour like a watchman's uniform. It struck me also for some reason that the fellow was extremely proud to be led by such a huge dog, in the knowledge that the Dog was the Cynosure of all passersby.

We continued on our leisurely journey to the Club ahead, with me singing paens of that dog, doing my "oohs" and my "aahs" and general excited blabbering, no doubt distracting my husband from his driving. At that point, my husband casually turned to inform me that the man walking the Dog was not a watchman, but the famous Indian cricketer and fast bowler Venketesh Prasad, who lived in the neighbourhood.

A bolt of lightening struck me and his face flashed back into my mind's eye, and sure enough I recalled and recognized that man to be the very same Venketesh Prasad. How could I fail to recognize him instantly ?
I have a seen him so many times when we lived in Indira Nagar.  But, as one might say  "out of the Cricket field out of mind", or some such like. Also, not being a great fan of Cricket should excuse me mistaking him for a watchman. ( maybe it was the blue jeans and blue designer shirt that did the trick all matching, matching)  No offense meant, Mr. Prasad ...... a lady's lapse of memory.

All this led me to imagine what might have transpired, if perchance we had stopped the car, and I had stepped out to pet the dog, and at the same time shoot a quick question at the dog walker - " Iska naam kya hai Bahadur"?

And Venketesh Prasad quick with his reposte, as he was on the bowling tracks says " Iska naam kya pooch rahi  hain aap ? Pehele mera naam kya hai, aap jaaniye. Mai hoon naa Venketesh Prasad ".

Not fully satisfied with his answer, dumb creature that I am, I persist with my questioning, "
Bahut accha bhaiyya, lekin Jaanwar ka naam bhi Bathaiye tho !"

I can well imagine my husband desperately looking for a tree and a rope to hang himself with in utter embarrassment.

Rama Ananth.

Heavy petting

Taking time out to admire the sunflowers.

Did you all have a good laugh at my expense?

Cooking up a blog

The guest speaker at our fortnightly Ladies Club meeting was exhorting women who work in the house (housewives) to demand their due share and remuneration for services rendered."I am just a housewife" need not be construed as a useless occupation, but as a substantial contribution to the running of the household — as worthy in many ways as a wage earner’s share of credit for the upkeep of the house.

   On reflection, I found it to be absolutely true . A time would soon come when society will accept and acknowledge the economic value of a woman’s contribution around the house.  Till then …….. well !

  The talk over, we broke up into small groups around the buffet table as usual, exchanging pleasantries and the inevitable gossip.

  Rita having recently lost her cook to a punjabi household was desperately seeking a replacement  and was urging Meena and Tara to redouble their efforts at finding one for her. With a glint in my eyes, I walked into their midst offering a possible solution. With eager faces and ears pricked , they pounced on me to come out with it. It amazes me always to see so many of my friends turning to me for help in finding domestic help, when I myself do not keep a cook, maid. driver, or a gardener ( I only have a husband, who does a bit of everything for me) .

See how he has a well trained look of a Chauffeur: he is my husband

"Rita", I said, "I will be your cook, if you will pay me a premium salary for my speciality cooking."

Though I went to all the cooking/ baking classes, it was my husband who baked this yummy pasta dish

  Rita’s response to my offer was unexpected  and was full of cold logic and sarcasam."No, Rama," she said . "You would cook us delectable palak paneer, puliodhere, avial, throw in lip- smacking chopsuey, conjure up spongy cakes, light – as- air souffles etc., etc. (They all know I have attended several cookery and baking classes). Both you and your menus will become very expensive for us. Your delicious cooking will make us hog and put on weight . Next, being a fitness fanatic, you will force us to take body- conditioning and aerobics lessons from you and make us pay for that also".

 Not to be broken in her train of thoughts, Rita continued, "while exercising, we might land up with sprains which you will volunteer to treat with Reiki at extra cost. "No Rama," she ended, "at this rate, my husband would be sailing forever ( he is in the merchant marine ) to pay for your innumerable services. You are way beyond our reach."

I am cheered up for at least I could cook up an interesting blog!!!

  Seeing me crestfallen,  Tara attempted to cheer me up saying I could always turn the conversation into an interesting blog.