Patterns

I woke up next to her. The room was dark with faint streaks of street light sneaking past the curtains. Light always manages to surreptitiously make way into the dark corners. All it requires is a small crack, a gap, an inconsequential crevice or even a brief parting. As I sat on the edge of the bed, I deliberately parted the curtain to allow the smooth operator to sneak into the room willingly and sate it’s curiosity to explore dark corners. Dressed in yellow, drawing patterns of the window grill over my face in soft shadows, settling comfortably on the floor, a few of its rays carelessly lay on the bed next to me, flirting silently with my presence. I looked outside. The road that overlooked the window lay bare and my eyes could trace its unending horizon, adorned with numerous street lamps that seemed to coalesce into the dark sky as stars in the distant horizon. I shifted my gaze on the bed where she was lying, unaware, oblivious of the spectacle and my state of mind. The bed stead hugged her tracing the contours of her body. It seemed to be gazing back at me, teasing me at the proximity it seemed to be enjoying with her naked body. I let out a sigh and shifted my gaze back on the road and thought about the night, which was only a few hours old.

Our kisses were always very passionate. From gentle brushes to passionately crushing each other, our lips seemed to have a life of their own. For a few brief moment we would pause, the air echoing with our heavy breathing, look into each other’s eyes and then as if the wait has been itself too long, the lips would lock themselves again. Hands would prowl, pushing, pulling, and tugging at anything that would try and come between our skins. In between all this she would laugh when I bury myself on her neck, but that would be momentary. The bed would take the brunt of our wrestle; cotton, silk and sometimes satin crushed under our bodies. For those minutes everything seems to be secondary – time, the mobile phone ringing, the music, the candles that would never be lit and many other things that would be our concern when we would be two different individuals. Sometimes there would be questions in my mind but would be exorcised as quickly as they would conjure under the pulpit of the passion. I would laugh, sometimes smile and be in a state of stupor; she would winch, bite her lips, close her eyes, clench her fists, claw my back and seconds later everything would come to an abrupt end, the room would be filled with an eerie silence, sometimes punctured by hoarse whispers of her “love you.”

It was no different today. I kept lying on the bed, knowing what would come next. She crawled herself to my bare chest, kissed it and caressed the hair on it, she so much loved. I ran my hands through her tresses, carefully separating a few strands falling over her eyes. I wanted to see her eyes but like always her face would be buried inside me. I pulled myself back a little allowing her more room to rest her head on. My ears were slowly registering the various sounds around us now. Reality was near and I kept playing with her hair, hoping feverishly that she would fall asleep and silence would be the last conversation before we woke up again. For a long while she lay still and I strained my neck a little to see if she had slept. And then she spoke, her voice feeble but seemed to echo in my ears – “You took her name again today. You loved her a lot, na?”

I knew the question; I have heard it many times in the last few months. The past always caught up with me. “Perhaps, I can out run it someday,” I thought to myself as I looked out of the window. I could still see the road and the lights plastered unto the canvas. Nothing seemed to have changed from when I woke up till now. Time, Yes, time has passed but nothing else has changed. The light was still searching for other crevices and every time it has managed to find a presence in my room through the curtains. I looked at her on the bed. I made way back on the bed cuddling closer to her. The curtains – I left them open. I can’t fight the light anyway.

Broken

I broke down today

Over the thread of joy that lay barren

On my war struck heart's ground

Tears dried up inside

There were so many things to hide

Some mountains built of mole hills

Some rivers of rain drops

Some flowers strewn in between rides

to nowhere but the path inside

All along I knew - 'This is just a dream'

So was She

many years ago

When she walked away from my arms to another

And life had never been the same

Till I found my thread of joy

Over one drunk state of life

I hollered

The unsaid was heard

That was it

The dream began

And amongst all the nothingness

Little did I know

I had grown young

and the hardened heart tender

Unconditional

Unperturbed

but it was not to be

Every dream wakes to reality

I woke up a

morning with the essence of the thread of joy

Breaking to pieces

And I collect the shards of memories

Not weaker

but stronger

Because I have a promise to keep

To be where I have been left

with the same smile

the same spirit

the same heart

Tender

Young

Never ageing in the day or dark!

The first draft came from the heart... I will not say anything more. I have no punctuations left...

Today anger overtook love,

Temperament assaulted patience,

Love stood where it was.

It does not know to fight back,

So it decided to wait,

Where it stood!

Anger is volatile,

Love eternal.

So it stood under the tree

Waiting!

:) Sigh!!! I guess I have grown with time!!!

An Absent Presence!

In a moment fraught with your lingering presence

I miss the absence

Time would never be the same

But, yet it moves,

Dragging the moments,

With the pace,

I cannot keep up with.

So I wait under your shadow,

Waiting for everything to stand still.

Watch time pass by,

Waiting for the unheard emotion of the heart,

To pronounce the unpronounced,

To see the unseen!

All for a moment fraught with your presence,

Where I can feel the absence,

Of everything else but you!

Birth

I had written this a long time back - the good old way on paper. This was the time when I was reading a lot on the stream of consciousness technique in literature, popularised by Henry James and the other favourite of mine, Virginia Woolfe. In college we were being taught Woolfe's Mrs. Dalloway and every page of the book was an experience I can still relish. Some of my friends said that I was literally seduced by her, and I would not disagree. I still am and never fail to miss on reading something about or by her whenever possible. Those bohemian college days were fun and amidst the stupor of literary liquor, the fertile mind would conceive something or the other. This story was a result of one such night. Today, I am re-writing it and hope to carry the original flavour but the excitement of doing so is much more than what the result would be.

She nervously read her appointment receipt. This was the tenth time that she was doing so and perhaps would do so a few more times before the clock reads 3.30 pm.

"3,30 pm, " she thought to herself, "is the appointment and she could not be late." She was known for procrastinating. Everything could wait for her. Life was fun and so was she. “There will always be a time for everything," she would announce loud to anyone who tried to talk to her about it. Sometime she would laugh it off. Her laugh was mesmerising. It never failed to disarm her detractors and like always leave many men in the room smiling to themselves, secretly wishing her in their lives.

The waiting room had two other ladies. She tried not to meet their eyes but would secretly steal a look at them. Both of them carried a happy anticipation on their face. This would make her more nervous and, she would continue to read the appointment receipt and steal glances at the hands of the big round clock that was hung on the wall. It seemed very still and discomforted her. She would shift her gaze occasionally at the water dispenser in the hallway and watch the bubbles rise up in the canister every time someone would fetch out a glass of water.

He looked around in the room for the bottle of water. She usually would leave it beside his bed knowing that it would be first thing he would reach out for in a half awake and half sleep state. Today, it was not there and finally after groping for a while, he lazily rose from the bed and looked at his watch - "3.30," it read.

"3.30," she looked at the clock on the wall and then looked at her wrist. She was not wearing her watch today but that did not matter now. It was 3.30 and she was still waiting for her turn. She looked at her receipt again to reconfirm and then rose nervously trying to smoothen the crease of her dress. She loved dressing for any occasion but did not have time for the same today. Dress did not matter here, grit does. She walked towards the receptionist who was busy on the phone, deftly moving her fingers on the keyboard of the computer at the same time. She cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"Please proceed," the receptionist told her. She let out a sigh of relief knowing that she was not late today. She did not need directions to the place. She was here earlier and quickly found herself the room. She read the board outside the door like the previous time - "Sonia Singh, Snr. Gynecologist". "Nothing changes," she thought, “nothing at all”. She knocked at the door.

He heard a knock at the door and rushed to open it. It was the colony guard asking for the monthly wage. He refused yet again – “Come next week.” He was anticipating her at the door and he would not want to waste time on anyone else. The room was stale with smoke but he was not bothered. He would sometimes move to the window and look out of it through the smudged panes. The street below with all the cars, cycles, rickshaws, thelas and people seemed a contrast of his room, which never bore a busy look. Lazy, maybe but busy never. She loved it that way and he smiled to himself thinking of how she would announce that even an alert sentry would fall asleep in the room.

She smiled at the doctor. This was the first time she did so. The doctor smiled back and suddenly she was not nervous anymore. She knew what she wanted to hear and she knew what to do. “So,” the doctor spoke raising her eyes from a series of report, “are you serious on your decision”

“Yes, I am,” she spoke. She looked into the doctor’s eyes. The doctor smiled and asked to her lie down. “It will be a routine check up,” the doctor said, “don’t worry.” She was not worried, just a little amazed at the decision that had materialized in her head. She asked for a glass of water.

He hated the morning after dehydrated feeling. “I must stop drinking so much,” he thought to himself. He has been promising the same thing from a long time -sometimes to her and sometimes to himself. Each time he fails miserably, the same way he has been treated in his pursuit for a new job. Jobless, married and living on his wife’s income was not easy. He hated to think himself as a chauvinist but the ‘man’ in him roared at times and he succumbed to the lure of liquor so easily then. He vaguely remembered that she wanted to tell him something yesterday. “What was it?” he thought. “Did she tell me where she will be going today?” he pondered

She had not told him about her visit. “He must be anxious,” she thought. She was out on the streets. The din of the traffic was deafening. “Careful,” she told herself, to calm the excitement to reach home. She passed by a McDonalds and quickly stole a glance at her reflection on the window. She looked like one of the ladies in the room earlier – the glow of anticipation not hidden on her face anymore. She smiled and moved towards the crossing and patiently waited for the traffic signal to turn red.

She still was thinking of her decision at the signal. “This is it.” She told herself continuously, “There is no turning back now.” She took a deep breath and looked at the traffic signal and then at the other side of the road. There was only one woman waiting to cross over. “She looks so happy and bright,” she thought to herself, looking at the woman. The traffic signal turned red and the vehicles came to a screeching halt.

He could see the streets from the window and he kept waiting beside it looking at the traffic signals change colours. “She should be home soon,” he thought and looked at the clock on the table. “4.40,” it read.

“4.40,” he spoke aloud, nervously looking at the table searching for a note or anything that would tell him where she was. He cursed his addiction yet again and lit a cigarette when he heard the knock on the door.

“This is it,” he thought as he rushed to open the door.

“This is it,” she thought as she waited for the door to open.

He gave a knowing smile and ushered her in. The time read 4.45 and everything seemed to stand still when she spoke. He heard her patiently and slowly moved towards her. She kept looking at his eyes.

He thought for a while and then stole his eyes away from her and moved to the window, to blow out the smoke. The window made a strange noise when he yanked it open. Her eyes kept following him waiting for him to break the pregnant pause that had suddenly become more eerie than the room itself.

He smiled and held her tight in his arms. He was numb with a feeling that only he could understand.
She held him and felt the warmth in his shoulders, “Things would be ok,” she knew it.
He loosened her slightly and looked into her eyes while still holding her fragilely in his arms. The gaze was long drawn and she went limp when his breath got closer and spontaneously her eyes closed and lips parted. She could feel him get closer to her lips and was surprised when he passed by and cleared his throat to speak to her ears

“Abort it,” he spoke.
She stood transfixed for the moment, listless and stunned. Her mind re-winded to the clinic, to the knock at the doctor’s door, to the decision, to the exit she had made, to the street, to the crossing, to the woman who stood on the other side of the crossing – “How happy she looked,” she thought before slumping on the floor.

“So,” she spoke as she curled naked to the other side and he held her from behind – “Boy or Girl?”
“Girl,” he answered, nuzzling his head deeper into her nape and his hands tighter into her stomach.

A borrowed Wish

I read it... I loved it... Sorry but I have borrowed it....

A wish like the morning dew upon the cold palm
Like the effervescent laugh on the lips of a three-year old
Like the silence between the naked lovers sitting by the window
Like the cluster of stars hovering above the crowded head
Like the eyes that glisten with hunger and shamelessness,
Like the madness of a vagabond venturing into the unknown, knowingly
Like the windy night removing the peels of sorrow… slowly
Like You and I, torn and apart, forming a coherent whole
Like the wish itself, born in the mind, nursed in the heart and never told
Like love, surpassing the boundaries of the known, traversing the limitless possibilities with that one wish…

One could not say this better.... Sigh!!!

Of the Head and the Heart

Before these first letters and words made into this space, I have written and keyed the back space key on my keyboard more than once. The indecisiveness was again between writing prose or verse and I know where this is coming from. I am in midst of a waging battle between the head and heart. This is not a new feeling but this time the sentiments are overpowering and it is exhausting me. The feeling is similar to the that of an athlete, running the last mile, the finishing line in site. But, I know that I am no athlete this time. I am just the road on which the race is being run.
The body, I realise, is strangely only a shell to the two imperialists-the head and the heart. It responds to commands that they order. When there is a truce between them the body is the happiest of all. Lest the imperialists decide to conquer each other, may hem break loose and so is my state right now.
So what is the bone of contention this time? If you ask me, I will not be able to define it just now, because as much the heart wants to disclose, the head wants to hide. Thus, my expressions are incoherent and yet in midst of it there may be a meaning, an elixir to calm the furnace that burns inside me, taking away pieces of me in each blow that one strikes to another. I write tonight, not because, I want to express, but because I wish to find myself in these words, lest all is wiped out in this war. Tonight, I write for myself.
There are photographs hung up on the wall that stare back at me and then there are photographs in my head (or is it the heart?) that stare into me. Each one has its own space and each one have stories with it. The stories are sometime simple tales and sometime part of an epic that I feel I live in. Our lives indeed are no less than an epic. Each story has another associated with it. Each moment is fraught with heroism and malice, love and hatred, betrayal and loyalty. The list would be endless. What happens when all these stories demand an ending. It is then that battle becomes inevitable. My stories today demand an ending and the head and the heart have different scripts in mind.
If the bard said "To be or not to be" is an eternal question, his postulation was not far from the truth that mortal beings have to go through. Yes, I generalise my state with everyone because at this moment I would feel a bit more secure if I were to feel that the state that I am in, is not something that I am waging alone. I have realised that we do not fear driving a moment to its truth, we fear the consequence of it. Hence we hold back and let out exasperated sighs speaking of it all someday (if ever) over intoxicated states and the more enterprising yet cowardly lot like me, would express it subtly with words that other would find hard to understand.
I have feared driving many decisions to their moments of truth and tonight they all come out of the closet and stare at me. It is not they want me to act on it but my heart renders in pain seeing their state and revolts against the head who push them back inside the closet. Of all these, one such decision is what my heart would not allow to be shoved back into the closet. So the battle.
Fools, I say. In the battle that you both ensue, the moments and memories around the decision is getting ravaged and raped. Stop it, I say. Let me survive with those moments and memories because if they die, I die with them. Understand that it is the memories in the head that lead to the moments that reside in the heart. One cannot survive without the other. And the decision... Know this, as I did a moment ago when I heard it:

Zarre Zarre Mein Usi Ka Noor Hai
Jhak Khud Mein Woh Na Tujhse Door Hai
Ishq Hai Usse To Sab Se Ishq Kar
Ishq Hai Usse, To Sab Se Ishq Kar
Is Ibadat Ka Yehi Dastoor Hai

Amen.

Silence

You and I
have a silence that
speaks of us.
A silence that measures
our thoughts,
our memories,
in a single moment of a lull.

You and I
have a silence that is
sometimes loud,
sometimes silent,
sometimes not at all.
Like a secret
known to you and me,
whispered to our ears
by our eyes.

You and I
have a silence that
undresses the noise between us,
bares our naked soul,
revealing,
like the way it always was.

You and I
live this silence,
long after the phone line is cut.
A Silence that speaks
Of all that remains
You in me
and I in you.

Inert

I have this very strange feeling since morning today. No matter how hard I am trying to define the feeling, I am just unable to do so. It is almost like as if I am been etherized, made inert. Every conversation that I am indulging in seems mindless and all that seems to be echoing in my mind is a drone of some thoughts, which I yet again have no idea of. If you ask me, it almost feels as if the whole universe has boiled down many questions on to me and I do not know which one to answer.

I am asking myself if this feeling actually erupted with the first chapter that I began to read of Milan Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being." The philosophy he propounds is interesting -

The heaviest of burdens is simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into new heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?

I understand this thought but I cannot relate it to my condition. Is it weight that burdens me or is it the mere absence of any that is managing to create these strange confabulations? My guess is that, it cannot be the absence of a burden. Rather, it is confluence of many 'weights' that is creating this condition in me.

Simmi and I will be distanced even further, now with me shifting to Dwarka. There is a piece of news regarding my professional growth that I have been waiting for since sometime and the anxiety of both seems to be the root cause of this inertness. Along with this and so many other thoughts that I seem to be effortlessly indulging myself in, this condition refuses to budge. Permit me to Sigh. It helps. Every pause helps, but only momentarily. Grrrrrrr!!! Oh so Prufrockian!!!

...And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me.
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Saints are Sinners Who don't give up!!!

Thu, Nov 6, 2008 at 11:55 AM: Simmi had this status on her gtalk and it swept me off my feet. When I first read it, I thought that she had picked this line as a random thought from Jhumpa Lahiri's "Unaccustomed Earth" which she has been reading for sometime now. I gave the line a thought and though it intrigued me, I failed to arrive at a concrete or even abstract meaning to the same. I requested her to explain it to me and from that moment on when she did so, I am in a complete awe of the statement. I will try my level best to rephrase the conversation that we have had online and later on phone to share my ecstacy and mental orgasm:

Me: Tell me na what it implies

Simmi: Wait

(after 2 minutes of innocuous prodding)

Simmi: Saints are sinners, because they refuse to give up on their ideals...

Me: ? (I was wondering if she had read anything Marxist recently)

Simmi: Look, how do you define a sin is inconsequential. What matter is, that saints in their attempt to correct and do things right and in doing so they end up 'sinning' in expecting a result. Expectation is a want, in many ways a sin. The true form of duty should not hinge on expectation or result, but only on duty. So many saints in succumbing to expectations, become 'sinners'... (pause)

Me: Go on... ( I was not convinced. If a person expects, then he cannot be a saint, is what I thought!! But I knew that she had more to this, than just that)

Simmi: Saints also have a will to never give up... They will fight for a cause because they expect the change, which for all probability might be for the best of mankind,... but they fight because they expect a change and in doing so they succumb to it as a temptation. (I was sniffing a philosophy of Gita in it)... I shall discuss this with you further when we talk. Got to run now.

Me: K... Hmmmm

I was still thinking...

We could never proceed with this conversation, but I bet there was more to this. My verdict - "I liked the conversation"

Midnight Verse!!!

Amidst a cloud of smoke,
The butt end of memories
Choke in my throat.
Coughs cease, my eyes gasp,
and the lungs need air.
I rush out (like always),
Leave the smoke behind
Carry the choke,
Adam's apple,
Eve's love.
The cycle is vicious.

As the moon sets,
and dim stars spangle the sky
I light yet another.
Inhale the smoke,
A half intermittent cough,
The butt of memories still remain,
Addiction?
Nay, " Its Life, I tell myself"

Burn Fat Faster and Better!!!

The article below my friends is worth a read for the serious weight loss aspirants. I came across it in a site www.mensxpert.com who in turn have ripped it off from Divine Caroline. (Gee!!! Plagiarism.. But I prefer to keep a safe distance from it and so the due credits) The article is about the top myths that need to be burst in a weight loss regime and I so much agree with it. I have lived through some of the myths in my weight loss program and have realised its futility. Thus it will be worth while for you to understand these 11 myths and then avoid practicing it!!!!

" Come on, you’ve heard them. Even people who don’t work out have heard most of them. I’m talking about statements like:

· People who play sports like golf, baseball or basketball shouldn’t lift weights because it will make them slow and tight.
· The thingamajig is the best exercise for giving you those washboard abs.
· You should lose the bulk of your weight before you start to weight train.
· I lift weights using high reps to shape and tone my muscles.
· Eating a diet high in fat will make me fat.

It goes on and on. It just boggles my mind that I still hear and read this stuff and it’s almost 2010. As a matter of fact, I was in the gym last night going through a chest routine when I overheard a so-called personal trainer telling a woman that in order for her to get to see her abs she would have to change her routine. He continued to tell her she needed to perform at least 30 to 50 reps every set for four sets and use four different exercises for every body part. Thank God I didn’t hear what he had to say about diet and cardio, because I probably would’ve lost it right there. Instead, I kept my composure and very nicely introduced myself to the woman and told her in not so many words that he was so full of it, his eyes were brown, and that I would be glad to help her with any questions.

Unfortunately, many personal trainers, local muscle-head know-it-alls, and of course the media, are the biggest perpetuators of training and nutritional myths. And what’s more unfortunate, this is where most people -- like you -- get their information.

The hard part is that some myths have been around for so long they are accepted as gospel. My part is done. I’ve written this “book” that contains everything you need to know to positively change your body. You need to do your part and open your mind. Some of what you are about to learn goes against the grain, so to speak. The information you’re about to absorb is nothing like what will sell a ThighMaster®. I refuse to offer gimmicks or embellish to hook you in. I offer the truth, which sells itself because it works for the long haul.

So here you are facing a fork in the road. Which direction are you going to go? The fact that you’re reading this tells me you are self-motivated. It tells me, after a lot of back and forth, you’ve made the decision to move in the right direction to change the way you look and feel.

It’s imperative that if you’ve made the decision to become healthier and stronger, you need to forget everything you’ve heard about diet and exercise. I am asking for a clean slate. Forget about all the sensational fitness and nutritional theories you’ve heard over the years. Read the following as a major first step toward your goal.

Myth 1:Training your abs using the right machines or exercises will give you the washboard abs you want.
Now, I’m only going to say this once. Ready? You can do abs until you’re blue in the face. I don’t care if you do 1,000 sit ups three times a day -- if you don’t get rid of the fat covering the abdominal wall you’re not going to see didly squat. There is no magical exercise or combination of exercises that will give you abs.

Remember there is no such thing as spot reduction. This is so important I must repeat it. There is no such thing as spot reduction. How fast and where we lose our body fat is genetically programmed, and the only way to lose body fat is to eat correctly. Or you can have it sucked out, which I only recommend as a last resort.


Myth 2: You should lose weight before you begin weight training or you’ll just bulk up.
This is another one I’ve been hearing since my early days in the gym at the Lorain (Ohio) YMCA. That was 25 years ago. (WOW! Man, time flies.) Anyway, lifting weights is exactly what you want to do if you’re overweight. As a matter of fact, if you had to choose only one type of exercise, weight training would be it by a long shot. Some of you are asking, “What about cardio?”

It’s muscle that drives the metabolism. The less muscle we have, the slower our metabolism and vice versa. The only way to preserve or build muscle, which is what you really want and need to stay strong and get lean, is through weight training.


Myth 3: The best way to lose fat is to do cardio.

Screw cardio!

Now don’t get me wrong, walking or jogging around the block or on a treadmill is better than nothing. But I’m not -- and you shouldn’t be -- concerned with what’s better than nothing. I personally am not concerned about being average. If you’re going to put the time in, use it wisely.

Have you been to any one of the gyms across this country? What percentage of people who perform cardio are lean? How many people that you see performing cardio on a regular basis make gains, and better still, keep them?

There are three things to keep in mind about cardio when trying to get leaner. One is that it doesn’t build muscle. Two, it doesn’t preserve muscle while losing weight. Both are extremely important if your goal is not only to get leaner, but to stay that way. As we lose weight the body does not discriminate where the weight comes from. We lose muscle along with fat, especially on a low calorie diet. And performing cardio accentuates this phenomenon.

Lastly, unless you enjoy cardiovascular training, it’s just not worth the time. The work to benefit ratio is dismal to say the least. Unless you’re willing to bust your butt and perform 60 to 90 minutes of cardio a day, which will hinder your muscle building capacity, cardio is not worth it.

If you do nothing but diet and cardio, you may lose some weight, but your results will be less than expected. Your appearance and overall shape will stay the same. If you have excess fat around your butt and narrow shoulders, your proportion will remain. This is not improvement to me, and if it is to you, you’re going down the wrong road.

The best and only form of exercise for reshaping and improving your health is progressive weight training.


Myth 4: If you want to shape and tone your muscles you should do high reps.

There are two myths contained in the statement above. Let’s take them on one at a time, shall we? It’s still a widespread common misconception that certain exercises are considered shaping exercises. One of the most common is the preacher curl. It was, and still is, widely accepted that preacher curls helped build the bottom half of the bicep. This was welcome news to those who have short bicep muscle bellies. Unfortunately, it is physiologically impossible to change the shape of any muscle on our bodies. If it were, don’t you think we all would be doing it? And if we were all doing it, wouldn’t our physiques look very similar?

If you have small flat glute muscles when you start training, you’re going to have smaller, flatter glutes than most, 20 years of training later. If you have narrow triceps, they’re always going to be on the narrow side. If you have high, thin calf muscles, you are always going to have high calf muscles that are on the thin side. This not meant to discourage you but to encourage realistic goals. You can always add size and a more positive appearance. But getting your muscles to change shape is simply not going to happen.

“I want to make my muscles look more tone so I’m doing more reps. I don’t want to be big, I just want to be more tone.” First of all, if a guy ever says that, he needs to be slapped and have his estrogen levels checked. A man who would say “I want to look more tone” is also taking a Pilate’s class with a guy named Bruce, has track lighting and wears eye liner. Just kidding. I know a Bruce who has track lighting and he’s as masculine as they come. Very simply, performing 12 reps instead of six to eight per set will have no noticeable effect on the amount of fat you burn.

Secondly, and more importantly, the tonus of muscle has nothing to do with its appearance. One can appear more “cut,” more “shredded,” more “defined,” but it is impossible to appear more tone. Muscle tone is the amount of tension a muscle exerts at rest.


Myth 5: I’m not sore today so I must not have had a good workout yesterday.

The fact that one is sore the days following a workout shows they probably had a good workout. However, not being sore the days following a workout has no correlation with whether or not you had a good workout. The factor you should be paying attention to is the intensity level. Were your sets done with 100 percent intensity, meaning, did you take your working sets to failure using proper form? Another factor is productivity. Did you make any gains? Did you increase in the amount of weight you used, or did you increase the number of reps with a particular weight? How you felt while training is another factor. Did you feel sluggish or did you feel energized and ready to push it? Post workout soreness is just one of several symptoms of a good workout.

Don’t worry if you’re not sore. Pay attention to your intensity levels, productivity and how you feel. If any of these factors are lacking, you may need to change your routine. Chances are you’re over-training.


Myth 6: Eating a diet high in protein is unhealthy and will damage your kidneys and liver.

Thank God this one isn’t quite as common as it once was, but it’s such a classic I had to include it.
There is not one study to support the myth above. I dare anyone to show one study that supports the myth that a diet high in protein will harm the liver, kidneys or is unhealthy in any way to a healthy individual. You will find, however, a mound of evidence supporting higher protein diets. Protein has a whole host of positive effects.

Protein repairs and maintains everything in our bodies from hormones to muscles. Proteins are made up of building blocks called amino acids. There are eight essential amino acids. Essential means we have to ingest these for survival because our bodies cannot manufacture them. If your protein intake is low, your body will get the essential amino acids it needs from your own muscle tissue. This is a big reason why wacko vegetarians, especially vegans, have a much lower percentage of muscle, on average, than meat-and-fish-eating humans. The lack of quality protein also makes it harder for them to gain muscle in the gym. Not only are they not getting enough protein, they also lack in the quality of protein, unless they supplement with quality protein powders. Vegans are extremists and there is no hope. At least a vegetarian can get quality supplements from dairy products. Vegans must resort to eating garbage soy protein powders and tofu. To each his own.

Now for all you thin-skinned readers: I’m talking about optimizing your body’s ability to get lean, healthy and more muscular. I’m not saying being a vegetarian will make you unhealthy. I’m saying it’s not the most advantageous way to go. Vegans are another story. This way of eating is unhealthy. Without supplements, a vegan could not survive. It’s impossible to ingest all the essential nutrients one needs through plant sources only. This lifestyle, flies in the face of science and physiology, and I will not condone it.


Myth 7: Eating more protein will make me fat.

We are simply made to eat protein. Why anyone would consciously eat a diet low in protein is beyond me. Although, with so much misinformation out there I guess it’s understandable.

However, not only do you need to consume protein, it needs to be high quality and in adequate amounts. I recommend one gram per pound of body weight. However, if you train with 100 percent intensity (which is how you should train), you need upwards of 1.5 grams per pound. At the very least you should consume a portion of protein with every meal. Don’t worry; eating more protein will not make you fat.

Protein, in and of itself, has little to do with getting fat, and has nothing to do with being unhealthy. You see, a calorie is not a calorie. A calorie of a carbohydrate does not equate to a calorie of protein when being metabolized in our bodies. Protein calories are not likely to be stored as fat, as compared to carbs. This is mainly due to the fact that proteins require a lot of energy to metabolize and assimilate. And as an added bonus, protein lowers the glycemic index of other foods. This helps to ensure your pancreas secretes small amounts of insulin, which is the fat storage hormone. The higher your insulin levels, the more fat you’re going to store.

To put it quite simply, if you do not consume enough protein you will not only put a halt to your efforts to have a leaner, more muscular body, you can actually lose some of the muscle you’re working so hard to get.


Myth 8: Strictly reducing calories is the key to losing body fat.

One of the biggest errors one can make is eating only once or twice per day. Our bodies adapt to any stress placed upon it, and are programmed through tens of thousands of years for survival. When we restrict the amount of food we eat, our bodies will respond by reducing the rate at which we burn fat. It doesn’t matter that you’re eating a burger with fries and a soft drink for dinner; by not eating at regular intervals your body kicks into starvation mode and readily stores fat.

It becomes a vicious cycle. You want to lose weight so you cut back on the amount of food, which for most means eating fewer times per day. Your body responds by slowing its metabolism, an automatic survival mechanism.

You lose weight at first, which is both fat and muscle, and eventually hit a plateau. Muscle drives the metabolism. It’s what burns fat as fuel. The less you have, the less fat you burn.
And if losing muscle and feeling crappy weren’t enough, you are continuously hungry and eventually fall off the wagon. Now you’re eating more with less muscle and a slower metabolism. Your body is now a much less efficient fat-burning machine. Now you can eat less than when you started and still gain weight.

The weight you gain when you start eating again (and you will start eating again), will be even greater than when you started your crash diet. Sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? But many people do it over and over.

What needs to be done is to eat whole nutritious meals at least four times per day. You need to establish new eating habits, and this may take a few months to feel comfortable. Eating in this way will ensure a faster metabolism, higher energy levels, less hunger and a better outlook.


Myth 9: Strength training is too dangerous and will stunt the growth of children.

I have an 11-year-old daughter. She has already been involved with sports for five years. These days, if a child doesn’t start playing sports in the primary grades, they are going to be behind. Parents do not hesitate to enroll their young children in sports like soccer, basketball, gymnastics, football and others. These children are placed in uncontrolled environments where there is running, tripping, colliding, changing directions at high speed, twisting and a whole host of other forces being applied to their little bodies. But God forbid you put your child on a strength training routine, which is in a totally controlled environment!

Some children play two, three or more sports per year. These same parents I talk to in the gym would never consider putting their child on a strength training routine. The above myth is the main reason I hear from parents.

To the contrary of what many parents fear, numerous studies show the benefits of strength training, including: increased bone density and development, injury prevention, and improved athletic performance. These far outweigh the dangers that parents worry so much about. So do your kids a favor and get them interested in fitness early.


Myth 10: After 96 hours of not training, a muscle will start to lose its size and strength.

The first component of a training program that should be given consideration is training frequency. How often can -- or more importantly -- should I train per week? Optimum recovery time between training sessions is essential if one is going to continue to make progress. Training frequency, determined by an individual’s recovery ability, is often a forgotten part of most training protocols.

Don’t be so concerned with how many training sessions you can handle per week. Be more concerned about the optimal amount. More is not always better. There is no reason in going to the gym if you’re not going to make progress. In every workout, if you trained properly and have fully recovered, you should be able to add some weight or do an extra reps.

The ability to recover from workouts is genetically predetermined. Some individuals can handle a high volume and frequency of training, and others can handle only minimal amounts. You need to determine the frequency at which you should train your body parts; this is done by keeping a detailed training journal of your workouts. How do you know where to go, if you don’t know where you’ve been?

If you aren’t making progress, your workout needs to be adjusted. The average individual on a three or four day split routine, training with 100 percent intensity, will need between six and eight days off before training the same body part. I personally train each body part three times per month.


Myth 11: Athletes or weekend warriors who play sports like golf, baseball, boxing, soccer, hockey and basketball shouldn’t lift weights because it will make them slow and tight.

Why in the world should a person who plays golf weight train? Sports involving swinging, sprinting, jumping, swimming, throwing, kicking or punching are affected by the ratio of the strength of the muscles involved in the movement, to the mass of those body parts. To put it simply, if a soccer player trains properly and increases his strength 15 percent over a six-month period, and his mass remains relatively the same, his ability to accelerate is increased. The stronger a boxer becomes while maintaining a constant body mass, the faster and harder he’ll be able to punch.

Now as far as athletes becoming tight, research has shown that full range progressive resistance training is a great way to develop functional flexibility. Individuals who weight train properly, but don’t stretch, are more flexible than individuals who don’t train or stretch.

In short, as with people not involved in sports, weight training will not make athletes tight or slow -- it will make them better."

A light story... (Heavily loaded)

Remember, my earlier post on Aug 25 Fat Boy Slim where I vowed to touch a 70 kg from the... ahem 89 kg that I so graciously had managed to accumulate over the years of adopting Charvak's principle - Eat, Drink and Merry!!! Well all the merriment, drinking and eating principle were now to take a toss once the mission began. For all unknown conditions I was able to get on to a work out mode only a month after I had written the first post. (Sigh!!! I know)
Losing weight my friends, is never an easy task and I will not make it sound simple either. (Lest it may discount all the 'Oooohs' and 'Aaahs', 'Really' that I happily manage to generate nowadays when I tell wannabe's of my weight loss story) It is not rocket science either. It is actually more to do with the mind and the motivation that you may receive from yourself in wanting to lose weight. The funda is simple - Regulate your diet, Plan and follow a workout and bingo the process begins. But before one actually begins the mission, what is very important is the need to read literature on nutrition, diet and work-out. I did exactly that. There is no dearth of it in net or also if you decide to pick up some good magazines like "Men's Health", "Prevention" (and this has nothing to do with the fact that I have worked with the India Today Group) What I write now on is no prescribed formula, but something which I have practsised and managed to achieve results over 11 months.

Mantra 1: Know your body!!!

It is very important that you understand your own body and that does not mean standing in front of a mirror and groping yourself and the unwanted layers that might now be hanging from all the wrong places. ;) Understanding one's own body is a lot to do with the kind of life that you might have led prior to accumulating the layers and also the kind of life that you might be leading right now. In my case, the retrospective was of an athlete, relentlessly in the basketball court or if not then perhaps dancing at a friends party with two left feet. And then, I completed my MA and MBA, lost perspective of life and a girlfriend, tasted and got addicted to alcohol, suffered from attention seeking disorder and hence got drunk and loved to create a scene (all puns intended) and then before I realised the weighing scale was reading 78 kgs in 2005. I thought that job would change all this but I was wrong, and this is something you also need to realise. Working a sedantry or even a field job does nothing but adds many gms to you, because lifestyle becomes your nemesis. We earn, so we indulge; We indulge, So we get tired; We get tired; So we drink; We drink, so we have fun... Its a viscious cycle my friend, very viscious. And its almost the same story for everyone who has gained weight. (Drinking is supplemented with good food for both alcoholics and also who refuse to drink) So when, I decided that I need to shed weight, the first thing was to introspect my lifestyle and in turn my body. When I did this, it is then that I realised that instead of actually pampering my body, I was abusing it. Late nights, sedantry work style and more over the many empty bottles of alcohol and beer in my cupboard were a clear indication of why I had been bloating. And when I joined Music Today, the weighing scale read 89kgs. I stopped weighing myself and started to laugh off the smirks and remarks on my paunch, but every day I stood infront of the mirror wishing for a new day.

Next: Mantra 2: Stop Wishing and Act!!!

Back!!!

Yes, I am back, like all the other times. And as a hard working lazy individual I am shameless enough not to offer any excuses for being away for so long. Smug!!!

I watched Rock On last week and have to definitely write about it. Nikhat Kazmi, in his review remarked that the Indian Film has come of age and I could not agree with him more. Some couple of years ago when I was watching the acronym'ised' movies directed by the 'Oh-so-exclusive-touch-me-not-delicate-creative-metrosexual-directors' (O.S.E.T.M.N.D.C.M.D... Pun intended), I thought that we will never get to see a Good Will Hunting, Amadeus or even a Forest Gumps in Bollywood. But, I am wrong and as if to ward off my fear, Bollywood of late has provided me some great mental orgasms in the multiplex. Small budgets, new faces, young directors, realistic, hard hitting and more importantly entertaining movies have been churned out. Last year it was Big-B starrer "Cheeni Kum", Anurag's "Black Friday" and the inimitable "Bheja Fry". The list is small but yet very heart warming since the movies managed to bridge the gap and stigma between words like cross-over, off-beat and mass. This year, Whoa!! Look what we have. In the early months we had "Taare Zameen Par," Rajat's "Mithya", Rajat Kumar Gupta's "Aamir"(This was a real good one) and now we have Abhishek Kapoor's "Rock On"

In my ratings "Rock On" takes the cherry till now. Fast moving, it yet carries its own mellow pace reflecting the psyche of friendship and the anguish in shying away from one's dream. Farhan must have a penchant for friendship (though in the industry he is shy and reclusive) because post "Dil Chahta Hai", this is his second movie in the same lineage. But we dont care. Rock On is a step ahead of DCH because it is about the need to reclaim you life, if you have lost it in the alleys of 'investment banking' and 'mundane daily life'. The plot is simple and even if you are not a rocker/musician, you will still feel that its a slice of your urban life. This is what makes the movie memorable. We all have or are living the lives of Farhan, Arjun, Luke, Purab, Prachi and Shahana.

The plot interweaves with heart warming poignancy that each character experiences in staying away from something that they much love. And its not the men alone who suffer this deliberation. Rock On also introduces us Prachi Desai, who in her very quiet role emerges as a clear winner as the doting and yet frustrated wife of a husband who treats her with as much inertness as he would do with the stocks he advises about to his clients as an investment banker. The other woman in the movie Shahana Goswami's performance is equally stellar as a wife to an embittered guitarist, Arjun Rampal, handling the latter's fishery business. Each of the characters' story however does not strain the fabric of the primary plot of the battle that they engage in the compromise/s they have made. I guess we all fight this battle and hence Rock On relates to us.

In performances, Arjun Rampal is my pick of the lot. He eases through his character as an embittered guitarist who bravely tries to accept his marraige to Shahana and the compromise that he makes in refusing to play guitar in marraiges because he knows he is made for the stage. He is made for doing "Magik"

Go watch the movie because, words fail me in expressing how good is it. Rock On will be incomplete without a standing applause for Shankar Ehsan and Loy's soul stirring music, which is made even better with Farhan's rustic but fresh voice. To sum up I will borrow a paragraph from Subhas Jha's review, which so aptly sums up the movie "A large number of our films are about life. Some are about music. Seldom has a film blended the music of life into the fabric of a film with such seamless expertise. Rock On!! is that rarity where every component character and episode falls into place with fluent virility."

Indeed Subhas, cant agree more.

The Pawnbroker

And here I am,

Of Flesh, blood and bones,
Mind - No, that is locked with the pawnbroker
who,Some say is ethereal
I only know that he lives above the real.
Never mind, but He has what I owe to all.
In my last conversation with Him,
(More an argument if I am to believe)
He levied a heavy interest,
And I had to give away some memories as a fee.
Indeed a hard bargainer
is He-
I have heard some old folks say this.
Now I know;
My Mind, Oh! Yes, My Mind is with Him you see.
Few more years,
perhaps,
Sigh!
My Mind - hope I shall get back from Him,
But not all memories shall I give away
only for my Mind's interest and fee!
Some I shall hold to relish and set my soul free.

Movies

It's been sometime that I have been wanting to write about some movies , I have watched recently. It actually began with Taare Zameen Par, a movie I ended up watching three times and not once felt let down. TZP deserves a complete entry and not just a few words of appreciation. That I will soon. But for now it's the other flicks I shall opine of. (Gee!! I sound like an English critic of the 18th century)

Om Shanti Om- What's this doing here? Well my friends I watched the movie. Found it to be ridiculously stupid without much of a plot and yet was guilty of wearing a smile of a satisfied mind at the end of the movie. Sigh! I am, at the end of the day, a masala greedy, spicy curry loving Indian. OSO had it all and hence the guilt of satisfaction. If the infamous adage that "Sex and Sharukh sells" is to be proved true, believe me it does not need much but a small sting op on the people who shrieked (six pack) and laughed (include me also) at the slapstick and cliched humour of the movie. In retrospect today I guess the kudos should go to Farah and Sharukh for providing what the Indian mass required- the daily dose of spice with a pinch of salt. I will not delve into the plot or characters but will certainly pick up Vishal and Shekhar for being inspired by The Phantom of the Opera for the climax song. When the song began I was racking my brain to identify the familiarity of the tune. Bingo! the ambience gave it away- Phantom of the Opera. Inspired- My good friends- Well a long time since the Musu musu haasi inspiration.
OSO gets ***1/2 (which implies watch it at least once)

Jodha Akbar - Aha! Opulence has a new name- Ashutosh Gowrikar. Mr. Gowrikar's tryst with magnitude after Lagaan is on a different scale of history and fiction. Lagaan was fiction against the canvas of history. It did not pick on any character, living or dead and hence escaped the ire of a reticent and politicized public. Swadesh was completely based on history with shades of fiction, but the protagonist was not someone who occupied the mind of the public and hence the movie escaped public display of affection of any sorts. (Oh Yes! the pun is completely intended). Jodha Akbar is a tryst with history and an attempt to recreate the missing strands of an association so less talked about, yet by far a very important association that went on to shape a political dream of an emperor. If Akbar married Jodha as a part of a political alliance, then all Haider Ali and Gowrikar tries to do, is to provide a fictional element of a love story that by all possibilities may have bloomed in the courts of the Mughal empire. If we question this tale of love then I guess we must question the tales of all the iconic lovers like Laila-Majnu, Heer-Ranja who like this tale also is a perhaps only a song of the wandering minstrel. However, history does suggest that there was an emperor Akbar and indeed there was a princess Jodha bai. Then, Jodha Akbar is indeed a great tale featured by AG on the silver screen. The canvas of the movie is opulent and so is the performance of Hrithik Roshan as Akbar and Aishwarya Rai as Jodha. What struck me was the restrain of expression in love and the pine between the characters, which was very well executed by Hrithik and Aish. Keep in mind that the movie is 4 hour long and yet I did not notice the audience being bored. Keep away from what 'professional critics' of the movie have to say. You must watch it for the sheer grandeur and performance of all involved- from actors, director to the cinematographer.
**** (beat this Mr. Kazhmi)

Ok Next to follow are the following Elizabeth-The Golden Age, No Country for Old Men, The Bourne Ultimatum. Keep reading this space for more

Change

Have any one of you read Benjamin Holt's The Tao of Pooh?(try following the link and you will get some bytes) I guess you should read it. Not that it will help you achieve instant nirvana or sorts, but it certainly will make you feel better if you face some unexplainable condition or to put it more simply if you feel that your heart and head are going different places. No prizes for guessing that, yes, your truly is in such a situation. Sigh!!!

Change is difficult. As human being we have a very enviable quality of adapting, so says our texts of biology and sociology. Ask me, indeed we do but perhaps not well adapted to accept a change as easily as other animals. And tell you what, it all boils down, very ironically to the very quality which differentiates us from animals- Reason and Emotion. Because we can reason we manage to emote and resist a change. (Well, most of the time we do). I am in the threshold of change right now. I have a new job, a new place, a new location and new people. The transition is easy when I reason with my career graph and pocket in mind. It definitely is difficult when I think of the friends I am now going to be less associated with. It is even more difficult when I realise that lunch hours will be in a different place with different people. Yes, the logic says that I'll get used to this but somehow this time my emotions are not giving in easily. The transition from DIREM to Music Today was easy owing to the fact that I was somehow prepared for it from sometime but, from MT to somewhere else- I guess it happened a little to soon and caught my emotions off-guard. My father changed his job only once to join from Cotton College to a University. 35 years and only one change. Me-Two years and two changes. What should you call it? Inconsistency, aspiration or plain struggle to survive the rat race as the best rat perhaps. I'll select the latter but wish I could change the rat bit, because rats should not be emotional and I am. I will miss my friends here. Music Today/Business Today seemed to me like a pulpit of energy where I felt like an electron. Guess electrons do not make much difference but they do create energy and I did manage to do that, only because I had lots of friends to receive and give back in return. Now I'll miss all this and I am resorting to Pooh to sort my dilemma. Well, he did to some extent...

"Rabbit's clever," said Pooh thoughtfully.

"Yes,"said Piglet, "Rabit's clever."

"And he has Brain."

"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit has Brain."

There was a long silence.

"I suppose," said Pooh, "that that's why he never understands anything."

There we go.. you see, I guess I do not need to understand and only feel happy that I'll miss them because I cherish them. Oh Yes, I do!!!

In lack of a muse

I guess we all have muses-anything that will inspire us to create ideas, dreams, prose,verse, furniture, and almost anything else under the sun which is as good old Plato would refer to as something "twice removed from reality." A few days ago I asked Venkat (my colleague/friend and someone gifted with the exquisite ability to translate the most mundane thoughts into beautiful woven prose/verse. Read his blog here) why wasn't he writing. "I need a muse, dude," pat came his reply. For a moment, a while back I was also in search of a muse and while I kept asking friends to throw topics at me to write about (yeah, I know that is not the ideal way always), it struck me suddenly when Preetika asked me to write about anything around me - the pens, bottles, paper cups, a white board etc., to write about the different muses that inspire people from different walks of life.

Let's begin with a workaholic whose muse I presume would be performance, work, achievement, money or maybe none of the any. The workaholic could choose to work also to keep away from home, a nagging wife/husband, or maybe to be close to someone he/she likes in the office. In the same way for some, the comfort of the office in a hot summer night could also be a temporary muse to work. Well that is a good number of muses to begin with.

What would be then the muse of a cobbler or to reduce our set into a more generic term the menial workers who make their living with their day's efforts. I guess, in this case survival is the most potent muse. Self respect will also be a close second since these are people who labour to earn and thankfully do not beg. Ironically, beggars whose muse is to also to survive, seek a completely different medium to do so. Ah! so a common muse could have different sets of inspirations to perform completely different actions. So is Muse relative?

A lover's muse is what I believe is most consistent. Love alone is the muse that will define his/her relationship with the other. And when I refer to love here, it obviously is the genuine kinds and not the fritter of types. When someone is in love you will find reflection of the muse in everything/everywhere that the person does. I can feel it in Venkat's verse, Sameer's attitude, Preetika's rue, Pooja's smses, Simmi's calls and more so in my own response to songs that touch my heart. Sigh! in the last few lines I felt it again.

I should sign off with the writer's muse, who, I agree with many other wise men, is everybody/everything and their individual muse.

"Autorickshaw Diaries"

It is a little scary for me to pubish my thoughts, now that I have not been able to fulfill many of them. It's been like ages since when I last expressed in this space without having the paucity of time or patience. Excuses, however do not sate the hunger to express and of late Simmi has been all ears to my thoughts. But sincerely wish I could take a holiday and punch the feelings into words for all to read. Sigh!

Well to begin with there is something I have termed as "Autorickshaw Diaries" which occupies my mind most of the time (ofcourse that is when it is not occupied with the myriad other confusion and confabulations that determine my life presently). A.D. would be my attempt to describe the urban jungle as I have seen and felt it in these 11 years of stay in Delhi. Valiant try- Yes indeed and will need time for me to complete. Watch out for this space it will be coming soon!!!

Oh yes!!! Check out the video bar on the right hand side of my blog. (You'll need to scroll down a lil,, yes!!) Youtube is cool!!!

Cheers!

Love...

A very short verse to love...

I did not feel you,
when plentitude surrounded me.
I did not feel you
when I searched for you.
Now,
when you touched me
unaware,
oblivious,
unexpected,
I do not have to look around,
I see you in in everything
I see you in me.
Indeed,
indescribable you are
As all have called thee!!!

Oh!! So much in love and so much to tell about the feeling that now also belongs to me.