Poila Boishakh

I decided to inaugurate the Bengali New Year by the actual (and long overdue) implementation of some healthy (quite literally) determinations. We went out jogging today.



I discovered that I was horribly out of form. We had to stop every 5 mins so that I could catch my breath. I myself wasn't very happy at the discovery, especially since we'd quite dressed the part (in our new purchases) and were secretly feeling very upbeat about this new-look us. Both of us have gained weight, as I did confess earlier, and we are eager to start losing all the unwanted excess. We have acquired a habit of going out for a brisk walk for over a month now, but as K (and Madhav) love saying, no pain without gain and I couldn't really expect to see any dramatic difference by mere diet and walks, though they did of course matter for people who didn't entertain such gigantic expectations from one's own thoughts and actions (like me) at every point of life. So...



K has really impressed me though. He does reiterate that he is quite out of form and seems to mean it, but oh, the gulf between our so-called forms cannot but make me flush with sheer embarrassment. I have been medically diagnosed with low lung capacity (after lung function tests at repeated intervals) and have been advised to increase my exercise sessions in slow steps. It used to try my patience earlier and I'd often disobeyed it but have now learned my lesson, by being at the receiving end of the rebellious tendencies. I was a health freak once upon a time, one of the fastest runners in my class way back in school in MHS, having fared well in broad jump, badminton and relay races in those ancient days. After that, throughout my 5 years in JU, I kept up with the habit of skipping, floor and freehand exercise continuously except for a brief period in 2002 when I had had a breast tumour removal operation and was strictly debarred from any form of exercise whatsoever except walking for almost six months, which ended up in my gaining a nightmarish 10 kg that in a slow and insidious manner, turned me from athletic to fat almost overnight.



I will not bore you with my reaction. It's predictable. But what might entertain you is my discovery of the sheer extent to which gaining weight had transformed my features, so that I was scared and scarred by the shock of the chance discovery. Baba and I had gone to Guwahati to attend the Annual Urological Conference (USICON) and while Baba was participating in a seminar, I humoured one of the commissioned artists at the entertainment zone by posing for my portrait. When he finally handed it to me, I stared. He smiled expectantly, hoping for a heartfelt and enthusiastic thanks. I had simply smiled wanly, unable to oblige him. I was in shock at what I saw. I looked like a married woman, the mother of 10 children with plump cheeks and a hint of a double chin. I hated it.



I went home and read up everything on weight loss I could lay my hands on. I finally found my dream workout solution in a theory offered by a nutritionist, which claimed that the body had a peak metabolic rate upto an hour after every meal and hence, could work out to its optimal level if put into exercise mode at that point of time. I began to implement the theory with a vengeance, after each major meal of the day i.e. breakfast, lunch and dinner. Within a month, I could fit into all my old salwars and didn't have to stick to the jeans-kurti routine any more at college. After a couple of months, friends at college ( I particularly recall Jhinuk) asking about the secret to my achievement. I began to regain confidence. And within 5 months, I had lost more weight than I'd ever hoped to. My parents congratulated me on my perseverance, despite their secret fears that I'd been overdoing it. But I had never overdone it, that I'd made sure of. I just decreased portions at each meal, gave up fries and fried sweets, started to have pulses and raita for snacks and ate sensibly at invitations. It worked. Later I included pranayam in my routine. I felt even better, both physically and mentally.



That's why I'm not scared now, even after gaining more than I did the last time. I know I'll work it off. But not by torturing myself. I know the limits and limitations of my body now and my weakness for desserts and potatoes. I know my target weight and the clinically recommended one, too. I mean to strike a balance between the two. By increasing the amount of jogging I do on a daily basis. I'll reach the goal slowly and steadily. Nothing and no one else can discourage or demoralise me. I'm a survivor.