It's that time in life...again!

I came across this guy in the gym a couple of weeks back - about 29-30 years old, distinguishably plump & a software engineer (in that order). He came dressed in sandos & three-quarters and had a 30GB i-pod hooked on. Clearly, this was the first time he had ever come to a gym in his lifetime. And here is why I came to that conclusion. He stepped up on to the treadmill next to mine and started pressing every single button at random. But the damn thing wouldn’t start. Why should it? They dint make electricity for nothing. I pointed him towards the switch which would solve his problem and he smiled back in embarrassment. He started off slowly, walking his way to shed those unwanted pounds. I don’t know what struck him next, but within seconds he was looking like an oversized & non-nimble reindeer, running through the forest, searching for his mother. No wonder why the mother had ditched him in the first place.

I don’t know if it was his show-off nature or temporary deafness caused by the loud music thump in his ears, that he chose to ignore the decibel levels of sighs emanating from his mouth. I got so worked up listening to them that I decided to get off my treadmill and go straight to some stretching exercises. Our man kept running till his face turned red and every single inch of his clothing was wet. I love to see such commitment in people, even if it is overdone. But unfortunately, he didn’t stop there. He did some bench-presses, crunches, curls, sit-ups and went on every piece of equipment available in the gym. And then he left, leaving me with an inferiority complex about my regimen.

I haven’t seen him in the gym since!

A couple of days later I saw the guy again. Not in the gym, but at a society gathering in our apartments. Back home, dad told me that no girl was ready to marry him as he was a little overweight. That is when everything fell into place. Poor guy! He hadn’t come to the gym willingly. The “Marriage intelligentsia” had forced him to. The number of pain killers eaten by him in the next few days must have been equal to the number of rejections he faced in the marriage market. At least in the former case he was getting rid of some hurt.

Just for the record…my exercising time has increased since then.

This is also the first time in my life when my friends have started to betray me. All the buggers are getting married. The news of one engagement doesn’t even settle down when the announcement of one more ‘caught & bowled’ reaches my ears. The bigger problem is my parents generally don’t let these waves go unheard. With each wicket going down, the pressure on me to start a new innings increases. Clearly, I am very unsure of my performance on the pitch. As it is Indians are bad players in alien conditions. Which is why I prefer to be the 12^th man as of now…probably the first 12^th man ever, who wants to be on the bench for at least 2 more years. I need to play a few more domestic tournaments before arriving at the international scene…if you know what I mean!

I can see my scorecard after 2 years... Jaunty c & b Mrs. Python 3 (27)