Of Love and Apples

I have started gaining significant weight of late.

After the accident, the doctors have strongly recommended keeping my weight in check so as to avoid excessive pressure on the knee. In any case, once one is on the wrong side of 40, it is best to be careful due to the other risks involved.

But leading the kind of life that I do, with 14-16 hour work days, no weekends worth calling my own, sedentary lifestyle, no chance of exercise and the stress, it is a tough task to keep weight in check!

In the absence of a gym or walk schedule, I realised that the best way to manage my weight was a strict diet and a daily check.

This daily check involved two things. Standing on the weighing scale thrice a week; and checking my stomach daily while brushing my teeth - whether it is threatening to do a belly dance of its own.

And my diet involved a decent breakfast, fruits or salads for lunch and a light dinner.

Despite this, I had gained 2 kg in the past year. Cause for concern, but not too much.

But a couple of weeks ago, I binged! And the result? Another 1 kg gained in 3 days flat!

Panic set in. I started feeling lethargic, getting pain in my knees, tired after walking even a couple of meters et al.

I felt that even the fruit plate that I eat for lunch is too much, as the canteen-wala packs in a lot of fruits. So I asked my wife to give me apple one daily for lunch.

The first couple of days, I heard lectures on why only one apple is not good enough.

The next couple, I got the apple a day.

Then, I was in a hurry to leave for office, and my wife conveniently ‘forgot’ to give them to me.

After that, the apples got over. Hullo! I had just two, what about the others?

After a week of this game of hide-and-seek, last weekend, I asked her why she was doing this. And I got a lecture on why just one apple is not good enough for lunch. I need a balanced diet. And her idea of a balanced diet – chapatis, rice, daal, vegetables; and an apple!

I said –that’s like a mega-meal which would make me put on more weight, to which she replied that an apple is just a fruit. It is not food.

Anyway, without boring you with the details of our conversation, let me come to the last statement of hers.

“But Mubin, how can I not give you enough food? After all, I love you.”

Now I know the origin of the phrase - ‘Love Handles’.

Getting ready for the DNA ICan Women's Half Marathon

Getting ready for the DNA ICan Women's Half Marathon tomorrow morning.

Uh huh! In case anyone of you are having any doubts about my gender, banish the thought!

Just going to be there as part of the team at 5:00 a.m. (seriously, couldn't it have been a couple of hours later?). Desperately tried convincing wifey to participate, but failed, as usual. And right now handling an irate daughter who wants to participate but cannot; as she can't run alone according to the rules!

Anyway, my shoes are in place, the jeans and T-Shirt ready, had a good morning of sleep (followed - as usual - by office work from noon till now!).

3 races, more than 3,000 participants as of now, 5 NGOs, 3 good social causes - one of them very close to my heart...fingers crossed for tomorrow as the first race kicks off at 6:30 a.m.

Excited and looking forward to going to BKC tomorrow morning.

And Deepika has nothing to do with it :-)

Memories...

Memories have a way of coming up on you.

Sometimes, they creep up ever so slowly, like the little plants that my mother grows, opening up their leaves and flowers one by one for you.

Sometimes, they just hit you like an avalanche, flooding you with long-forgotten people, names, faces, places and reminiscences.

I had not travelled to Dockyard Road, Mazagaon for many years now. But in the past couple of months, I have had about 4-5 opportunities to travel through that area. Nothing special happened the first few times, but the last time a couple of days ago, while driving down the route that I used to take by bus No.45 years ago while going to school, I happened to glance at a building down the left.

And the memories just came flooding back. All the good ones.

Of all my childhood friends from school. All my ‘best’ friends who I have lost touch with over the passage of time.

Of climbing up the narrow flight of stairs of Mudeer’s house, wondering how does a fat person manage, then deciding ourselves that fat people do not stay in this building.

Of being fascinated by Khalid Jamsa playing with his remote controlled car which his father had brought from the US. Khalid himself moved to the US a few years later, and we may not even recognise each other if ever we pass by.

Of Vyjayanthimala, the first girl outside of my family to call me brother. It was the glance at the building where she lived that got back all these memories.

Of watching in horror as Naseem Khan removed his gold ring and dropped it in aqua regia, just to confirm that it actually dissolves gold. And then – horror of horrors – nonchalantly pouring the content down the drain! I did meet a lot of friends at Naseem’s wedding nearly two decades ago; and that was the last time.

Of Salim, who I shall never meet again; Mudeer informed me at Naseem’s wedding about his passing away

Of Michael and Peter, our Headmaster’s sons. Michael was also my classmate, and was the subject of admiration and envy among a lot of us, because of his long sidelocks only on one side of his face.

Of Clifford, my classmate who stayed virtually opposite the school. Everytime we passed his building, we used to get the whiff of a very strange smell coming from various houses. Years later, when I used to go to Bandra on work, I got the same smell, which I realised was of pork being cooked.

Of a lot of others, who I had completely forgotten about, but I remembered their names and the benches on which they used to sit in school.

Of my teachers – all the ones I liked, and some I did not.

And most of all, of that aunty who I will not recognise if I ever met her, but who I have never forgotten. Our school bus had not come in the morning. My father, thinking that I have missed it, gave me 10 paise to go by the BEST bus (public transport). Upon reaching school, I found that our principal had passed away and a holiday had been declared. But I now had no money to go back.

Upon seeing me standing outside the school weeping, this poor aunty who possibly stayed in the one of the neighbouring buildings and came to church there, consoled me and thrust the 10 paise I would need to take the bus home in my hands, just mumbling, “pray for your aunty, child”.

I took the 10 paise the next day to return them, but never saw her again.

It is more than 35 years since that incident, and I cannot remember her face, but as I stood at the spot where she had consoled me, the sunlight streaming on the crying child’s face, and her bent weak frame thrusting possibly her very hard-earned 10 paise into his hands on that morning just came back flooding again.

As I said, memories do have a way...

The Value of Relationships

Last Saturday, I attended the wedding reception of the son of a dear friend of mine.

Yunus Siddiqui – or Yunusbhai – as everyone knows him, had joined Mid Day immediately after college, I believe. And in this day and age of changing organisations, he has remained in the Mid Day Group throughout the past 25-odd years. He handles Inquilab, and was also responsible for Mid Day Classifieds.

Over the past two decades and a half, I don’t think anyone has ever seen Yunusbhai angry or agitated. Even when he was right, he always worked towards making his client and agency partners satisfied. Over time, if there’s one thing he has built, it is strong relationships with people. People who have grown to like him, respect him and trust him.

Anyone who does not believe in the value of building relationships should have been present at the wedding of his son.

I do not know whether to call it his son’s wedding or a Mid Day/Inquilab re-union. Anyone who had worked with Yunusbhai – even for a short while – was there. Be it Abhijit Pradhan or Gaurish Pathare or Satish Menon or Bikash Bannerjee, or the countless others like me, people made it a point to be present and bless the couple. And some people had received just a phone call from Yunusbhai, no more.

Or should we call it a Classifieds agency party? Name the agency, and the person was there. And they had travelled long distances to reach Mazagaon, like Piyush had come all the way from Mulund, Monty had come from Ghatkopar and Samadbhai had braved the Andheri-Kurla Link Road traffic. It definitely wasn’t the food that brought them there.

It wasn’t just ex-colleagues and agency partners. It definitely speaks about the man if his MD, Mr. Tarique Ansari, or Mr. Niranjan Hiranandani and other such senior people make it a point to come for the wedding and stay for a long time.

And lest one thinks it was only about guests, what was interesting was that the hosts for the evening were not only members of Yunusbhai’s family, but many of his friends were standing at each table, receiving guests, taking care of them, ensuring everyone had dinner etc. so that Yunusbhai could be free with the bride and groom. Not that you would expect that from Yunusbhai. He was everywhere – greeting his guests, on stage with the newly-weds, ensuring people were eating and relaxed...

Attending the wedding just reiterated my belief in the power of relationships – not business relationships – but relationships built and nurtured over time. The power of kind words, of making people feel special, of ensuring a win-win scenario for everyone concerned. Values which are embedded in Yunusbhai.

No wonder everyone was just drawn to Mazagaon last Saturday, braving the weekend evening traffic, the small lanes, the dug-up roads, the knowledge that they would not get parking space and may have to walk up a long distance. People’s presence or absence would not have made an iota of difference – the wedding reception would have taken place irrespective. But so many of us did. Does that in itself say anything?

Lastly, Yunusbhai again showed that little glimpse of how much he values his relationships. Within a couple of days, we had a little message in our phones, thanking us for attending his son’s wedding and blessing the newlyweds, and how much it meant to him.

Thank you Yunusbhai. It was your love that drove us all there. May Allah bless your son and daughter-in-law, and may He continue to shower grace on your family. Aameen.

The monsoons are back in Mumbai

Its such lovely weather nowadays in Mumbai. The pleasant chill in the mornings, the nice long walks without getting drenched in sweat.

The monsoons are back in Mumbai.

And so are the frogs.

You can hear them croaking all over the place. Large frogs, small frogs, bull frogs, follower frogs. At every street corner.

Oh, what a noise they make!

And lest I think I can avoid them at home, now their croaking is also covered 'live' on TV - one bull frog on the day he is croaking the loudest. The other days are devoted to assembling a multitude of frogs together to create a cacophony masquerading as mating calls.

The monsoon also brings a great opportunity to wash all the dirty linen that has been accumulated since the last monsoon. It delights me no end to see the sense of community, where everyone spares no effort in helping each other in this washing.

The rain has stopped since the past two days, and the frogs have stopped croaking. But we are told to be prepared for a huge shower and consequently, extremely loud croaks for 2-3 days by a certain group of frogs from 17th onwards, before the monsoon passes by and the frogs retreat and the linen is pressed, folded and kept in the closets; till the next monsoon.

Till then, enjoy the monsoons. So long, folks!

'Me' Time

Its been 8 weeks since I last wrote my blog. 8 weeks of whirlwind activity, late nights, travel, working while commuting and on weekends and catching up on sleep while commuting.

Phew!

The last weekend was the first in a while that I just took a complete off. Didn't even touch the laptop.

Went shopping with wifey, got some broken components fixed for son, played with daughter, chatted with mom, watched TV and generally just chilled out.

And I feel so mentally refreshed!

It also reinforced my belief that somehow - in this rat race - we are losing our grip on what we should value most; our 'me time'.

I now want to start exercising again. Can someone suggest how to a guy who leaves home at 7 am and generally returns only by 11:00 pm (not always out of choice)?

RIP, Dev Anand

“Jiya O, Jiya O Jiya kuch bol do…”

But the Peter Pan of the Hindi film Industry will not say anything again.

The man who never grew up has now moved on to the Great Beyond, leaving us with memories of that fluffy hair, that unique walk (which taught me how one can convert a weakness into one’s biggest strength), that oft-imitated drawl.

Dev Anand was already past his prime when I was a baby (he really belonged to my parents’ generation) but I grew up watching his movies on Doordarshan.

How can I forget the song that I have mentioned above, where Dev Anand was sitting on top of the car romancing Asha Parekh while someone was driving parallel to the train? A song sequence that probably was the inspiration for the other popular song “Mere Sapno ki Rani” from Aradhana?

Or the Jewel Thief playing the drum to Vyjayanthimala’s “Honthon Pe Aisi Baat”?

Or the music at the lighting of the cigarette from Hum Dono? (I bet his fans who are reading this are humming it right now)

“Dil Aaj Shaayar Hai, Gham Aaj Naghma Hai, Shab Yeh Ghazal Hai Sanam”

What a life he led! The movies (though my grandfather hated CID – the only movie he saw. He was an inspector, and thought he was going to see a movie on his department!), the songs, the romance…

That is another thing that I remember. His ill-fated romance with Suraiya. A young handsome hero and an established heroine fell in love and wanted to marry, but were thwarted by her family due to religious reasons. (Why her family did not stop her from acting in films for the same religious reasons is something I cannot fathom, but that’s beside the point).

A heart-broken Suraiya never married, and died a spinster in 2004! Dev Anand went on to marry another actress and had two children, but by newspaper reports, the couple was estranged for years.

“Hum Bekhudi Mein Tumko Pukaare Chale Gaye”

However, as much as I would prefer to remember only the suave debonair romantic, also comes to my mind images of possible narcissist who did not know when to quit!

Starting with possibly Des Pardes, he continued making films that no one saw, and possibly no one even remembers the names of, trying to play hero when he should have graduated to grandfather roles, casting people young enough to be his children as his contemporaries, or even his elders in the movies.

It hurt every time I saw him announcing a new film or on a poster; of the man making a caricature of himself!

“Kya Se Kya Ho Gaya, Bewafaa, Tere Pyar Mein”

He lived life on his own terms, and I daresay even died on his own terms. According to a newspaper report, he had expressed a desire to not be cremated in India, so that his fans remember him as the die-hard young romantic. His death in London was possibly a fulfilment of that wish.

Possibly it is therefore only fair that I remember the Dev Anand of the Black and White era, the young romantic, the hats, the walking stick, the drawl, the style of drooping his face and shaking his hands…

“Main Zindagi ka Saath Nibhaata Chala Gaya”

RIP, Devdutt Pishorimal Anand, while your die-hard fans say,

“Abhi na Jaao Chhodkar, Ke Dil Abhi Bharaa Nahi”