1. Shanti Parva—A Stree Laments

“Uff!
351 days a year, on average,
When I get up,
I feel fat
I feel wrinkled
I feel bald
I feel slow
I feel a ‘What the Fuss’!

But then I wash my eyes, check my reflection. . . Bam! And I am world-famous in my own universe!

I’m the best! Oh yeah! You betcha!”

So declared sotto voce Padma Rangachari Raichand aka Paula aka Padma aka PRR! How Padma loved this self-pep talk, to get the spring back in her sometimes faltering stride!

Most days Padma purred like the Cheshire cat which got all the cream and on some not-so-good days, she growled like a tigress wronged. On such cloudy days, this pumping up in front of a shiny mirror brought back her mojo.

But truth be told. Padma, like most women these days who have managed to slow father time as far as facial wrinkles go, didn’t look her age at all. She was a very attractive woman in her early forties who could pass off as a spiffy mid-thirties gal. Shoulder length curls styled in the latest fad framed her roundish face. Strong electric vibes of success emanated from her tall and voluptuously built frame.

Presently, Padma whistled ‘These are some of my favourite things’ as she tied her shoelaces.

Branded gym clothes: Check.
Chilled Gatorade: Check.
Fresh napkins: Check.
Fitbit: Check.
Wireless EarPods: Check.

It was time to burn some calories off and chisel the frame.

Padma was going back to the gym after a welldeserved, longish maternity break which lasted a whole five years. Well, she had her valid reasons for that extended time off, hotly contested by many, and equally passionately defended by her.

Finally, the weighing scale’s not-so-flaunt-worthy reading was the motivator or should we say, a wake-up call for some painful load shedding. But seriously, when was the weighing scale ever known to be reasonable or faithful? Of late, the scale began to groan pretty vociferously whenever Padma gingerly climbed onto it to face some very inconvenient truths, after making sure she was clad in bare minimum clothes, so as to not add any unnecessary milligrams.

She even tried the birthday suit! Yet, the slutty scale was heartless and brutally blunt. Definitely not tilting in her favour.

Finally, Padma decided to face the elephant in the room and take the bull by its horns. So a gym subscription was acquired and newer body agendas with tangible goals were set.

“See ya, Varun; be good Sampoorna,” Padma cheerily sang as she stepped out.

Varun Raichand, the husband, who was her senior at the University, whom she had married after many trials and tribulations, was lazing around with their darling, petite and pretty, five-year-old daughter, Sampoorna.

“Hey Wifey, where are you off to? It’s Saturday morning. Sampy and I are home after a long, and hectic week. Let’s play Scrabble, and order something. Or I will rustle up my famous weekend brunch. Fully loaded! The works!” Varun, her fit, dapper and extremely pleasantlooking husband, jauntily replied.

“That’s what has made me now, as fully-loaded. No can do! I’m going to the gym for a workout. How do I look?”

“Well, honey, to borrow from a master, you look as though you poured into that attire, forgot to say when! Maybe, just maybe a couple of sizes larger would have been a bit more appropriate or. . . Uhh!”

“How rude is that, Varun! You do need a refresher course on Kosher-Couple-Conversations!”

“Don’t mind the banter, honey. You look terrific. The bounteous curves on display are utterly enticing. Look through my eyes! Ask the child, else.”

Sampoorna softly mumbled “Yes, Amma, Papa is right. You are beautiful.”  

Padma hugged her daughter. “Too late, Mister. All this sweet talking wouldn’t get you off the hook! Save some brunch for me though. Bye, Sampoorna.” Both daughter and father waved back and resumed their respective reading.

Padma set off to the gym in their upscale condo which was one of the many condominiums dotting the Golf Course Road of Gurugram, the erstwhile Gaon, flashing polite smiles as replies to those conversation-killers.

“Good morning, Padma. Good to see you at the gym.

What are you doing here? Coming in for some bracing exercises eh? Nice weather no?”

Why else would one be in walking shoes, on a morning in the gym? Definitely not to talk shop or to check the hygiene standards of the sweaty, used towels hanging on the rack! Surely, one couldn’t comment on the vagaries of weather while slumming in an air-conditioned environment.

Nonetheless, polite social dalliances done, as Padma warmed up on the treadmill to thumping music, she saw a chiselled man with facial features good enough to be a matinee movie idol, smile at her approvingly. Padma felt her cheeks redden.

‘Ooh, girl! After all these years! After birthing a baby! After piling on all these kilos! You still have it in you to rock the show, babe! And there you were stressing about thy body unnecessarily. Slaying it big, Girl! Killer charmer, aren’t you?’

Tucking an errant strand behind her ear, Padma coyly looked at the man again to reconfirm. He was still flashing those gooey, goose-bumpy smiles at her.

What was on the anvil next? Padma was very eager to find it.