Jalsa , Mumbai Sept 30/Oct 1, 2011 Fri/Sat 1 : 06 AM
Whether the alarm rings or not, whether you like it or not, whether the mind still rejects the routine or not, one does succumb to the daily ritual and with creaking back pain and rib pain and several other pains that accumulate during the course of the night, one rises from the bed, sits up for a while to allow the blood circulation to settle and balance out the body before rushing on and then in one clear effort, body rectangles almost to adjust to each and every discomfort, you welcome the morning by pushing open the curtains and switching off the air conditioning.
As you assemble the fogged mind on what the day holds for you, it is remarkable how in the middle of all that nature desires us to perform, we get the best thought processes. Which is why it is advisable to keep either a water proof recording device handy or a note book or a mobile right within arms reach when ideas begin to flow, in order that they can be documented for them to be executed as the day moves on.
Its a struggle to get into the gym apparatus - the tracks, the shoes, the chest belt that measures heart rate, the wrist bands and then the watch indicating not just your pulse but so many other aspects of your training, which quite honestly no one ever I think, bothers to record or take note of.
As the rest of the home rests sleeps slumbers, you open doors walk steps and open cars to get in with some difficulty because the back does not allow a smooth entry into the drivers seat. Pulling out of Jalsa on to the morning streets of the Ville Parle depression in the suburb - a depression not one of mood but of geographical contentions, it being at times below the level of the raging Arabian Sea some meters away only - is a delight. The traffic is mundane and since the distance to travel is barely 50 yards, it seems as though we moved from one room to another. Not that the rooms are 50 yards in length, but symbolically it would reflect the same .. !! Its a wake up call for many. Particularly the stray dogs that house in the Janak premise, the gym venue on one of its floors and my office of sorts ! Acknowledging the salutes of the equally sleepy security system all smartened up in black tunic and tie and cap, belly sticking out, or their thinness barely managing the one size fits all uniforms from their masters, I move up the grilled door lift to the third. The floors look all washed and cleaned. The staircase given a rub and a general air of ‘agarbatti’ or ‘jos sticks’ as the West would refer to them, drifting throughout this airy structure, the trainer all set and ready at the door welcomes me with ‘how you feeling today’.
And even though the back aches, the rib pains, the asthma wheezes and the eyes water due to lack of lubrication, one smiles and settles in for the morning drink of water and ‘alovira’ , a couple of dates from the mid-east bazaars and on to the tread mill with the news and sports and music channels sending out alarming visuals as you match your walk speed with the lounge music on the speakers. Free arms and loosening up the limbs,waist down and above, slipping on the special gloves for the weights and getting down to the computerized machines that record and guide your work out, in time the pains disappear and you wonder whether they were scared of the work routine or the work routine tired them off …
Its an hour and half of body parts and repeats and sets, until finally you are guided to the cross trainer and the pedals for an ‘x’ amount of time before the mat is laid with the ab cruncher and on to it for the next lot - stomach repeats, single leg repeats, legs in the air repeats, back to normal repeats, lower abs repeats, push up in the air repeats, sliding to the sides repeats and then on the chest arching like a cobra on strike mode up and down for a few numbers. On the haunches and stretch with arms out in front trying to reach the edge of the mat and before long back on the tread and watching Ranbir Kapoor on Rockstar, SRK on Chhamak Chhalo and R.One, Genelia lusting on the sands with bulked up John in Force .. shifting gaze to the other screen where the latest scams on corruption run along on the news channel and then over .. over and out of the tread, calves push ups, stretch on thighs, music off, tv screens blank and prayers to the ’surya devta’ ..
A quick wash and on the cross legged for the yoga and pranayaam and other related breathing and pulling efforts, before those delightful words form the trainer ‘thats all Amit ji’ and a quick check on the BP, a report to the doctor on sms, collecting all the stuff in the sling bag and .. ‘ok thank you see you tomorrow’ … the walk down the staircase quick exit on to the roads again, whizzing past garbage collection vans, the milk man the ‘paper wala’, at the traffic lights where only I seem to be obeying them, the other rickshaws, cars, buses of the Government all breaking the rules and the lights and no one to check them or reprimand them .. people driving on the wrong side of the road, walking up a down street, crossing through the center flower bed without warning, until a stop at Prateeksha and the soft chair out in the sun at times to finish the paper work of the office, signings and opinions on letters, decisions on phone, logging the Vog, connecting to calls that are pending, shower, prayer, hurried breakfast and … STUDIO please !!!
En route, more phone calls that remain, the news papers and magazines to be seen and marked for filing and before long at the vanity van, door opened inside on the make up seat … ‘Deepak .. set me up quick’ .. shot ready sir of audience on set for KBC and out to face the world again … even after 42 years !!
That is just the beginning .. what follows after is another pos perhaps some other day ..
Amitabh Bachchan ... and yes with love and affection to all
Whether the alarm rings or not, whether you like it or not, whether the mind still rejects the routine or not, one does succumb to the daily ritual and with creaking back pain and rib pain and several other pains that accumulate during the course of the night, one rises from the bed, sits up for a while to allow the blood circulation to settle and balance out the body before rushing on and then in one clear effort, body rectangles almost to adjust to each and every discomfort, you welcome the morning by pushing open the curtains and switching off the air conditioning.
As you assemble the fogged mind on what the day holds for you, it is remarkable how in the middle of all that nature desires us to perform, we get the best thought processes. Which is why it is advisable to keep either a water proof recording device handy or a note book or a mobile right within arms reach when ideas begin to flow, in order that they can be documented for them to be executed as the day moves on.
Its a struggle to get into the gym apparatus - the tracks, the shoes, the chest belt that measures heart rate, the wrist bands and then the watch indicating not just your pulse but so many other aspects of your training, which quite honestly no one ever I think, bothers to record or take note of.
As the rest of the home rests sleeps slumbers, you open doors walk steps and open cars to get in with some difficulty because the back does not allow a smooth entry into the drivers seat. Pulling out of Jalsa on to the morning streets of the Ville Parle depression in the suburb - a depression not one of mood but of geographical contentions, it being at times below the level of the raging Arabian Sea some meters away only - is a delight. The traffic is mundane and since the distance to travel is barely 50 yards, it seems as though we moved from one room to another. Not that the rooms are 50 yards in length, but symbolically it would reflect the same .. !! Its a wake up call for many. Particularly the stray dogs that house in the Janak premise, the gym venue on one of its floors and my office of sorts ! Acknowledging the salutes of the equally sleepy security system all smartened up in black tunic and tie and cap, belly sticking out, or their thinness barely managing the one size fits all uniforms from their masters, I move up the grilled door lift to the third. The floors look all washed and cleaned. The staircase given a rub and a general air of ‘agarbatti’ or ‘jos sticks’ as the West would refer to them, drifting throughout this airy structure, the trainer all set and ready at the door welcomes me with ‘how you feeling today’.
And even though the back aches, the rib pains, the asthma wheezes and the eyes water due to lack of lubrication, one smiles and settles in for the morning drink of water and ‘alovira’ , a couple of dates from the mid-east bazaars and on to the tread mill with the news and sports and music channels sending out alarming visuals as you match your walk speed with the lounge music on the speakers. Free arms and loosening up the limbs,waist down and above, slipping on the special gloves for the weights and getting down to the computerized machines that record and guide your work out, in time the pains disappear and you wonder whether they were scared of the work routine or the work routine tired them off …
Its an hour and half of body parts and repeats and sets, until finally you are guided to the cross trainer and the pedals for an ‘x’ amount of time before the mat is laid with the ab cruncher and on to it for the next lot - stomach repeats, single leg repeats, legs in the air repeats, back to normal repeats, lower abs repeats, push up in the air repeats, sliding to the sides repeats and then on the chest arching like a cobra on strike mode up and down for a few numbers. On the haunches and stretch with arms out in front trying to reach the edge of the mat and before long back on the tread and watching Ranbir Kapoor on Rockstar, SRK on Chhamak Chhalo and R.One, Genelia lusting on the sands with bulked up John in Force .. shifting gaze to the other screen where the latest scams on corruption run along on the news channel and then over .. over and out of the tread, calves push ups, stretch on thighs, music off, tv screens blank and prayers to the ’surya devta’ ..
A quick wash and on the cross legged for the yoga and pranayaam and other related breathing and pulling efforts, before those delightful words form the trainer ‘thats all Amit ji’ and a quick check on the BP, a report to the doctor on sms, collecting all the stuff in the sling bag and .. ‘ok thank you see you tomorrow’ … the walk down the staircase quick exit on to the roads again, whizzing past garbage collection vans, the milk man the ‘paper wala’, at the traffic lights where only I seem to be obeying them, the other rickshaws, cars, buses of the Government all breaking the rules and the lights and no one to check them or reprimand them .. people driving on the wrong side of the road, walking up a down street, crossing through the center flower bed without warning, until a stop at Prateeksha and the soft chair out in the sun at times to finish the paper work of the office, signings and opinions on letters, decisions on phone, logging the Vog, connecting to calls that are pending, shower, prayer, hurried breakfast and … STUDIO please !!!
En route, more phone calls that remain, the news papers and magazines to be seen and marked for filing and before long at the vanity van, door opened inside on the make up seat … ‘Deepak .. set me up quick’ .. shot ready sir of audience on set for KBC and out to face the world again … even after 42 years !!
That is just the beginning .. what follows after is another pos perhaps some other day ..
Amitabh Bachchan ... and yes with love and affection to all
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