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Page 3 razzmatazz has me hooked. I have an obsessive urge to wrest an iconic slot in the coveted milieu. The intent-declaration evoked a mixed response at home.india Updated: Jul 12, 2006 03:36 IST
Page 3 razzmatazz has me hooked. I have an obsessive urge to wrest an iconic slot in the coveted milieu. The intent-declaration evoked a mixed response at home. My wife, children and their spouses, shrugged off with knowing glances and empathetic asides.
The third generation, though, reacted differently. The grandchildren — two girls and two boys, between four and 15 years old greeted the announcement with ‘hurrahs’ and offered all help. We made a purposive squad and proceeded to work out a viable scheme. I went through spheres in which I had the potential to excel.
The picture was flawed. My physique did not measure up to the soaring spirit. The doctor quacked that I was a ‘known case of senescent wear and tear’. The squad resolved to find ways and means to get over the shortcoming.
One of the girls espied a possible antidote in a TV demonstration presented by a trendy yoga activist, Swami Ramdev. By propagating a cure-all regime, the swami tended to generate hope in the infirm and the afflicted. We put our ‘trust’ in the swami and decided to give his system a try.
We weaved a regimen in the swami mode — doing pranayama, pranayama and more pranayama. The grandchildren supplemented the schedule by injecting into it the element of walking me along with their two dogs — five times a day. The end-sessions left me exhausted and breathless, but I persevered.
From the internet, the children had it that puffing and panting of the dogs were also manifestations of pranayama. As these variations helped the dogs to regain energy almost instantly, the children instructed me to emulate their techniques. Pranayama came naturally to the dogs.
An outcome evaluation was carried out. I was ordered to undergo a special grooming session for the occasion. My new bearings drew stirring compliments from the elders and young ones alike in the family. It turned into a festive occasion.
Gratified, I sneaked into the bathroom to see myself in the full-length mirror. I rejoiced over the handiwork. The pick of the bunch, however, came in the medical report. While the pathologist equated the lab tests with that of a man in prime health, the quacking medico was astonished to note that the subject showed no signs of progression in age-related oddities.
It took me some time to gauge the impact of the report. The revelation made me jump and dance. Pulling the whole team into the act, I shouted at the top of my voice, “Page3, here I come!”