In keeping with my all too foul mood, I shall now recount tales and thoughts that will make people wince. Wince rhymes with mince. And I don’t eat meat anymore. Sigh.
When J was in Mumbai, we went to Hard Rock Café. After HRC, we drove to Nariman Point and thought we’d take a walk there. This was opposite NCPA – that spot in Mumbai where wealth never diminishes and dreams never crumble and taxis are always hailed with panache, etc. etc. (I, on the other hand, work in Marol. S-I-I-G-H!.)
So, J and I were generally talking about our trip in December, and how she misses Pune (by which, she only means Koregaon Park – the snob…catch her speaking fondly of Swargate or Kharkee…HA HA HA HA!). A little ahead from where we walked, a man was lying down on his stomach on the parapet. We stopped, wondering if it were safe to continue. After all, it was 3 a.m. and there was no-one else on the road. Our other friends and Cy were on the other end of the walkway.
Then the man pulled himself ahead a little and started retching. J and I grimaced and turned back. On the way, though, we discussed how good vomiting was – as a concept. Sure, it’s yucky when you watch someone do it. And yes, it’s wholly unpleasant when you do it as well. But the notion that your body’s taking a firm stand – of deciding to not accept anything else and forcefully cleansing your system – that’s quite commendable. It’s very heartening that even if one has been a chipmunk at the dinner table and nibbled through everything, at some point your body will take charge. The innards will proclaim ‘Enough is enough!’ and hurl the impostors out. And after that, although your body might feel weak and ravaged, it’s clean and tender. You want to tend to it carefully by sipping and eating all things delicate.
Yes, vomiting is good.
While we are on this nauseous subject, I recollect an incident I had in my first job. A colleague and I sat down for lunch. My colleague opened a tepid lunch-box with some cutlets and soggy fries. (My colleague was waif-thin, by the way.) As we had a microwave in the office, I wondered if she’d like to heat up her food.
“Won’t you warm it before eating?”, I asked her, pointing to her tiffin.
“WHAT! NO!”, she shouted. “I don’t need to vomit or anything like that! Some people are genetically thin, you know!”
He he. That WAS funny!