Of Spas & Screwdrivers

NOTE:-" I must apologise for the previous post as it was the unedited copy not ready to be published but we had a technical fuckup and i guess you all read the other version. However this is how the article was meant to be."



There reeks a discerning familiarity between the health clubs today and the unfortunately named cocktail. Spas today are more of an ego boost rather than an honest effort at perfecting one’s physical attributes. It is not surprising as it is surprisingly appropriate that one should indulge in such an excruciating past time. The same way we might guzzle the horrendous liquid , we breathe in the bitter sweet odour of perspiration and room freshener in an attempt to reach out to the person we wish to see on the other side of the mirror. when once one decides to embark on the arduous task of converting the self image in our minds to reality , it is easy to see that life turns into a screwdriver. A screw driver portrays the perfect blend of mind and reality.

The orange juice represents the mind and the vodka dashes in harsh reality. The orange juice reflects how we wish to see ourselves and the vodka reflects what we truly are. We sip the spiked citrus atrocity, after all its 3 parts juice and only 1.5 parts of vodka isn't it?, in a conscious effort to cling on to fitness fanaticism. Working out is as much a part of mind fast food as it is the burning out of body. Nothing gives you a faster swollen head than a set of bulging biceps. The mind gorges on those newly acquired bulges and gives obesity of the mind a new meaning. The tangy aftertaste of a screwdriver is something that's ever quite familiar with the metallic ting at the back of your mouth when doing 10k on the treadmill. The dreams of shedding those extra pounds are something my frailer brethren will not understand. But they do notice that everyone is born with their own respective sets of luggage. You lose it from your body and goes somewhere else instead.

Ever noticed that fat girl from 6th grade who was usually the only one who would go back empty handed on 'Rose Day'? I remember mine. She was called Raji. She disappeared after school only for me to spot her years later gyrating at a local club with a new turbo engineered body with a long queue of testosterone pumped popeyes standing attendance. You now have to get in line just to talk to her. Yeah its probably true fat Raji worked her ass of in the gym. But she just transferred her love handles to somewhere else instead. Its true in school Raji wasn't the girl to take to your annual day, but at least she was a likeable sort.

I sense something inadvertently bitchy about her now. A very compulsive coldness. It slips on rare occasions. Especially when we talked about lunch hour. Lunch hour was probably the only time I would hang out with Pudgy Raji. My friends did joke about it on a few occasions but somehow tolerated my little deviance. I wouldn’t really hang out with her it was just a sort of ritual to watch her eat. Some claimed there was something particularly piggish about the entire affair. Maybe it was her snorts as she devoured one cupcake after another or perhaps it was the hoggish delight in her eye as she chomped away an insane quantity of Cadbury’s Gems. Rumor had it that Pudgy Raji could polish off two Rs. 5 packets of GEMS in a chomp.
I somehow never found her culinary etiquette disgusting. She was a good kid who just needed to reign herself in a little. I couldn’t help feeling that food was somehow her only outlet. You see, Little Raji never really had a lot of friends. She wanted to give away the enormous quantity of love she possessed. But no one wanted to be on the receiving end. So she turned to the only thing in her life that would take and receive love. Her food. And she found it strangely gratifying. Food was the only true love of her life. but all she wanted was to be like the most popular girl in class. With people swooning all around her. Today her wish has come true, Guys go crazy around her, they throng around her just to get her number, but somehow I cant help feeling she is not happy inside.

Lunchtime was probably the only fun time with Raji. She would eat with a passion. Now you would dread taking her out for dinner. Health food's expensive. Although it looks like cardboard it costs more than a big mac. Gone is the sloppy delight, Now there's usually a blank look in her eyes as she pretends to enjoy her tofu and bean sprouts steak and spinach juice. Inside I realize she is just a hungry girl craving for that one big uninhibited handi of butter chicken. But she knows she cant. She's trapped in keeping up appearances. You can guess by now what she drinks at the parties. Yup its the screwdriver.