The great Indian bulge

As I was waiting to catch a flight at the KGIA, Bangalore, the late night blues let my sleepy mind wild and I ended up thinking about my bulging tummy. I then looked around and felt consoled by the countless other Indian men who shared by unwelcome physiognomic feature.

As I am happily treading towards 30, this current state is not what I had foreseen for myself ten years ago. Perhaps the scales have been reinvented at the national level, or so I am made to believe.

When I was a teenager, a bulge was usually associated with men in the late 30s and 40s and beyond. But suddenly in the span of a decade, it has become normal to have a bulge in your 30s.

Traditionally, in the Indian context, the bulge has connotations with prosperity and satisfaction. The satisfaction attained either by the worldly achievement – read a good job, good wife, happy children, happy parents and respectful position in the society.

At this perspective, does it mean, that the advanced onset of the bulge means we are satisfied too early now?  

With a hike in the disposable income following the market liberalization since the 90s, and the lack of burdensome responsibilities such as educating and marrying off siblings (seen in a majority of middle class households from the 80s and 90s), there certainly has crept some comfort zone in the millennial teenagers.

The cushy jobs, where the starting packages usually are outdoing the father generation’s retirement salaries, is a new phenomena driven by the position of India as a low cost opportunity for foreign companies. We have been made to believe this as a sign of development, albeit some believe this to be modern slavery, and we are happy to be a part of it while it lasts.

We are glued to this sedentary lifestyle and are proud to have it.

With a massive population adopting this lifestyle, the drug companies, specifically the ones producing medicines for the lifestyle diseases, are preparing themselves to meet this demand. The good times for these companies shall begin when this generation tcrosses the near fortyish.

On the ground this generation had stopped being active when they entered their teens. The pressure of education had killed the joy of sport and sport turned out to be the major outcast in most middle class Indian homes.  The only running happened around between tuitions and parents were happy to stuff their children with nutrition, manuring their investments as they grew.

“There can only be one Rooney or a Federer, and we Indians don’t have it in us”, thundered an Indian father who aspired for his son to succeed in life and have a bulge.

And most Indian sons have succeeded with time. Hence, the great Indian bulge.

Ruminations

To love and be loved is God' s greatest gift to mankind

Modi-fication for an Indian (currently Bangalorean) who loves driving

It was with bated breath that we welcomed a new Prime Minister, Shri. Narendra Modi, following his resounding victory in the general elections earlier this year.

A lot has been said about his stature as an able administrator and a change maker, which had been witnessed by his rule in Gujarat.

Although being a novice about Gujarat, having not travelled there, I have heard mixed reviews from various sources about the nature of development there.

My expectation from a new Prime Minister is straightforward, with keys actions sought on issues which led to massive anti-incumbency wave in the UPA rule.

There are many issues which prick me in my life as an Indian citizen (fairly tolerant one at that) such as the inflation (as I see my salary evaporate leaving a little in the due course of a month) and the crimes against women and children in the metros is chilling to read on the media.

Better roads and road safety are other massive issues, in which I have expectations. I find it hard to digest the fact that we paid our hard earned money on road tax, to get such badly constructed roads. I literally end up off-roading (due to the pits and pot holes in the road) everyday on my drive to office which is located in a fancy tech park in the developing corridor of the garden city.  There are no pavements for the pedestrians and they end up walking in the dusty/dirty roads with the risk of being hit from the back by anyone, autos, water tankers, cranes, cement mixers, bikes, cycles etc)… Giggles at the so called development.

Moreover there is no concept of lane driving in this city as anyone is free to use any lane of their free choice. You may find a scooter crawling at 40 k/hr in a lane which is meant to be a 80 k/hr one. Furthermore the cab industry (supporting the IT industry) and it migrant drivers take driving to a whole new level with their driving style (sometimes, I feel I don’t understand their language). It makes me wonder why don’t have sufficient representation at F1.

Imagine landing in a pit in the outer ring road, coasting at 80 k/hr in a road which was otherwise smooth till then. It happened to me as there was no warning sign, neither any cordoning off that section.

The apathy of us Indians to these things is understandable, given our social DNA and lack of travel to anywhere far. People who have travelled abroad to some developed countries will be appalled by the nature of our roads and probably also laugh when we call ourselves a nearly developed country.

As requested, Shri. Modi jee, here is your 60 months. Please bring about the change that you have promised us.

Let us have better roads in India which are built to last a century! Let us drive around the country to explore Mother India’s diversity! Let our heart’s swell with pride looking at the mystic Ladakh and the serene Kashmir! Let us sing praises to God looking at the marvel of Kaniyakumari and the pristine hills of the Western Ghats!

Jai Hind!

 

Signing off

 

The Cricketer Generation

Every Indian teenager/adolescent, from the 80s, 90s, and the millennial decade would have certainly dreamt of becoming a cricketer. I am no exception. It is funny how that love and passion for the game is a permanent fixture of our personalities, even when we grow older.

A couple of weeks ago, I was eager to be part of the tennis ball cricket tournament in office as it’s been a while since I have played this sport which grips my country, literally. It is one thing which unites the country, which is so diverse, like no other.

And there I was wearing the team Jersey, on the scheduled ground and time looking forward to some early morning fun.

Slowly the players trickle in with a cricketer like swagger. They start stretching and doing exercises which were learnt only by watching actual players on TV and may not have any impact on this day, to my colleagues. They also start their shadow practices both bowling and batting.

Some even run to the pitch to look at it closely touching it and walking beside it. Mind you it is a tennis ball tournament. Six overs a side.

Few guys were busy taping their hands to get better grip. Some we choosing bats, as they were many.

Then came the all important team meeting where the captain addressed the boys in a huddle and revealed the team strategy. There was a brief about the pitch and the pace at which everyone is set to score runs. We even had a pinch hitter and a rock solid Mr. Wall in the team. The bowlers were instructed to vary the pace, set their own fields and quickly go through the overs.

Now, over to the story of the match.

The batsmen went in one by one after touching the ground in respect, looking up in the sky and doing shadow practice all the way to the pitch. The first four batsmen (who were supposed to be the best) scored ducks. The middle order scattered around to score a few runs and we finally made 39. Yours truly scored a duck too :) ( trying to accelerate the scoring- played a cross batted swat, well, imaginary). The collapse was attributed to the zippiness in the pitch and recklessness of our batsmen.

The opposition made the runs in 4.4 overs. Yours truly was struggling to find a place in the field where the ball wouldn’t come. But the ball came and I messed it. I was immediately shunted to inside the ring . (which was scarier, standing close to the batsman)

It was one fun Saturday, with a lot of comic relief. The venue was the BEL grounds, which is located in a part of Bangalore which is really beautiful and classy.

 

Signing off.