On a summer Saturday

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It's 2:34 this afternoon and I'm not very sure if I'll be going out any time soon. I would love to, though. I like summers, I like heat, and I love to sweat. When I was learning kickboxing, my instructor had told me that people usually fall ill because they're not gettng rid of the toxic waste in the body. Caffeine and tannine induced headaches, especially, require one to drink a lot of water and go out and sweat it.

I don't think I have sweat enough in the last few months. If I get really anxious about my weight, I just do a few rounds of push-ups in my bedroom and think that's enough. Of course, I can't kid myself any longer. I've got to start running. My whole problem is this humungous sloth that envelops me like a wet, sloppy kiss in the mornings. I don't know why, but I just can't seem to get out of bed. In fact, the last week, it's been so busy at work that I've felt all sorts of knots moving up and down my back, while comfortably collecting around my neck. In these times, it makes sense to go for a brisk jog or a good, solid walk.

But no, I just wake up and look around and go to sleep. And if I can't go back to sleep again, I reach out and flip through an ancient copy of Harper's Bazaar. It's some sort of a weird ritual I have going on but I intend to change it soon. Maybe get another magazine.



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Saturday evening



I've just seen 'Sirf'. It's, well, got potential. The film is like the first draft of a document. You see it's promise, but you also recognize that it's not in any kind of shape to sent out or published. Sirf, though, is the first draft that got sent out.



It's based on the premise that everyone in the world (the world being the hedonistic cesspool of Mumbai) is deferring their happiness to an 'If only' condition. One couple will get married and live happily ever after only after they can arrange for a house. Another will reconcile only if they make time for each other. Yet another can take care of their daughter and their marriage if the husband makes the effort to come home on time. So on and so forth. Each of these intersect the other's lives at some point in time.

What struck me is the grand stereotyping of Kay Kay Menon. He yet again plays the husband of a dissatisfied wife, Manisha Koirala. Several things about this film are awkward...but Kay Kay Menon in a hooded jacket (no, not with the hood on - the film's not that crappy) is just too much. Of course, he has worn that ugly thing only in one or two scenes where he's shown to be courting Manisha Koirala. (She's just too pretty, by the way.)

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Well, it's Sunday afternoon now and I didn't go running this morning. Oh well, one lives in hope. But I have predominantly been eating sprouts and fruits this weekend, so I think I have my longevity factor covered.

Wish something really interesting would happen.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Was going through your older posts...You write so beautifully! There's poetry in your language, it has a certain dreamy, ethereal feel to it...You've got yourself a regular reader! :)
1:40 PM
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