Make smart food choices

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A bulge in the lower abdomen, those jowls of fat under your chin, those puffed up cheeks, not exactly the confidence boosters when you are hoping to make an impression. And all these get a little exaggerated in the summer, you can’t hide your belly under thick jackets or sweaters, and your double chin won’t go under the turtle neck. Add to that all the empty calories you gain from the sugars in your juices and ice creams, you are at risk of being in a really bad shape.

Unlike the popular misconception, you don’t need to be starving to lose the extra flab. You just have to eat smart. The first step is being aware of the nutritional value of what you are eating. You will be surprised how much those snacks which you have as a routine, but don’t like much anyway add to your calorie count. You will find out most of your daily extra carbohydrates are from things you have as a habit, not ones you particularly enjoy. Once you have identified the major culprits, you can make intelligent substitutes – having more protein, less calories and less calories. You will be surprised to find that there are some foods which will make your body burn more calories than what the actually add. So open the browser, and do some basic research. Or even better, and if you can afford one, hire a dietician.

One simple way of cutting down calories is to stick to natural foods and stay away from any sort of processing. By default most naturally occurring food items are better for you. Even simple processes have effects, for example if you are trying to lose weight, fruits are good for you but fruit juices are not.

One simple way to do this is to substitute honey for sugar. Sugar is bad for you in so many ways, it adds umpteen numbers of empty calories, has a high glycemic index, and adds to your fat stores as well. And it is not filling, so it doesn’t satisfy your hunger and you end up eating again quickly. It is also mildly addictive. But most of us can’t live without some sweet or other. That is where honey becomes a healthy, smart alternative. It is natural and not processed, adds much fewer calories than sugar, is easily digested, and makes you fuller. It also has a lot more vitamins, minerals,and anti oxidants that are super good for you. So ditch that sugar jar, and grab a bottle of Dabur honey (http://www.daburhoney.com/) of the shelf next time you are in the supermarket. It is super good for you, and not to mention, super tasty. My recommendation, add it to some iced lemon or green tea for sweetness, and there s another dose of anti oxidants for you right there.

Eating healthy is not just about looking god, it is also about keeping yourself is healthy. A crash diet is not the way to go - it will make you lose your muscle mass and lower your metabolic rate and will be harmful for you in the long run. Also, it will be very difficult to sustain. Eat smart, know about what you eat, and make smart, healthy, nutritious choices like Dabur honey. This summer, stay healthy.

Stealing byes

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Cricket, apart from the twenty twenty format, is a long, time consuming game to follow. And as someone who is a connoisseur of test cricket, it gets even longer. You want to watch every ball, every shot, and hear every word of commentary, and savour it like a nice sip of vintage wine, but too often, life gets in the way. For fans, keeping track of cricket scores while carrying on with life is something that requires stealth and street smartness, just like batsmen who expertly steal byes.

Growing up as a kid in the 90s, which sounds an archaic world without mobile phones or internet, keeping track of cricket was never easy. Your only sources of information were television sets, and board exam or entrance exam oriented parents made sure you never got enough of it. You had to be smart enough to switch on the TV and a catch a few balls as soon as their attention was elsewhere. Switching on the TV during your dad’s nap and muting it before the broadcast started was so that there won’t be any noise, was a skill in itself. Balconies were the other source; with kids in the neighbourhood relaying scores in sign language as soon as them one of them got info.

Later mobile phones became commoner, and information was always at your fingertips. Still, nothing could beat the pleasure of actually watching cricket, which was a very difficult thing to do while travelling. This is the reason why television showrooms across the country have become mini screening centres, with the public thronging outside them whenever India plays.  And they have a special atmosphere of their own, with the joys and despairs of the game being shared with a multitude of unknown.

Even with smartphones, it is not easy to keep track of the game always. Your boss or your wife can get frustrated with your fidgetiness and checking your phone for updates every ten seconds. It calls for innovative ideas on its own – the usual ones being frequent bathroom and tea breaks. To your boss, you say it is an important message from home, to your wife you say it is an important mail from your boss. At your workstation, you have the update page minimized or a web extension to know scores.  If none of these works, there are of course those whatsapp groups with similar addict, at least one of which Is sure to post some updates.  There is also the added advantage of being able to discuss the game in detail and have some fan fights there – so who was a better test batsman –Sachin or Rahul ?

Today, there are live streaming websites to watch Cricket, and things like UC Cricket which make it much easier to actually watch the game on your phablets or tablets, leave alone getting just score updates.  Sometimes, especially while travelling in a metro or a bus or a train, you become a mini broadcaster yourself, with fellow passengers flocking around your device to find out what is happening. Only problem, unless you have a seat, balancing isn't always easy. It has taken some charm away from the feverish anticipation to get updates surely, but there will always be a need to be smart. After all, Cricket is a long game. And life gets in the way too often.

The girl who defied odds

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It was during my schooldays when the incident which shook the entire state happened.  My district was the hotbed of violent politics back then.  Political revenge killings occured very frequently. Rival sides made it a point to outdo each other in ruthlessness, with each new act of violence.  Fists gave way to sticks,  sticks to knives, knives to guns and guns to bombs. Hartals and bandhs literally brought life in the city to a halt. 

Even in such a background, what happened to Ashitha was a shock to the enire state. Like many others,  like me, she was an innocent eight year old, making mountains out of little problems in life, finding joy in the tiniest of things, still wide eyed and filled with wonder in the beauties of the world. Like me she had to carry a heavy back to school everyday. Like me she had to do homework. Like me she had to worry about end of term exams. Like me she dreamed of things to do on growing up.  Spent the entire year waiting for the summer vacations. Still believed in Santa Claus.  She was having an unremarkable childhood and was totally content with it.  It was all alright, until that one fateful day, on which the politics of my city decided to invade her life in the most tragic manner and change it forever. 

She had a normal day in school. Her home was near, only a couple of kilometres away. She was used to walking home.  For most of the way, she had her classmates with her. They gossiped and made fun of their classmates and  giggled over teachers as usual.  For the last four hundred metres or so, she had to walk alone. She had a little money,  and she decided to treat herself with the money, and bought some orange candy that was kept in a glass jar in the local shop. She wished she had enough to buy an ice cream. She dreamed of how many ice creams she would buy everyday,  once she grew up and got a job and started earning like her father.  She remembered to keep some candy aside for her kid brother who was yet to start school.

She had just turned the penultimate corner to her house when a shiny metallic looking object caught her eye.  It was round but not fully so, but more rounded than an egg. It had a few screwthread like grooves running at the top.  A small ring seemed to hang from one of its ends.

She was curious. She wanted to pick it up, but it looked a bit dirty.  She also remembered her mother's strict instructions on not picking up anything from the street, and decided against picking it up. But she could not stifle her curiosity.  She gave it a small kick with her tiny little  feet. 

Boom. 

The next morning was when I first heard about her. Also when I first saw her cute little face.  As usual I had started the newspaper from the sports pages at the back, and had tiringly reached the front,  only because my father had the annoying habit of quizzing me about the headlines in the daily paper.  I was in for a shock that day. There she was, as old as me,  covered in bandages,  surrounded by wires and tubes,  lying on a hospital bed. My eyes quickly switched over to the headline above the photograph. 

"Political violence in the state claims a new

 victim : child loses her leg in bomb blast" 

The round object she decided to kick turned out to be a locally made bomb that was lying about.  Ashitha had lost a leg from the blast. 

For a few days,  she was the topic of all conversations in the state. She shook the consciousness of the place like noone else. People discussed endlessly about the nature of politics in the state, and the how far the violence had escalated.  Ashitha's loss was a sudden wake up call,  jolting them up from their deep apathy. For some time at least,  the place was quiet, as rival parties backed off from violence,  fearing public backlash.

Years passed by. I grew up through school. I was pushed into the entrance coaching ratrace. Sleepless nights,  countless blackening of bubbles, and endless running around writing entrance exams later, I got admission to a medical school,and a prestigious one at that. 

I was really excited to go to college on the first day as anyone else would be.  The allures of college life and the mysteries of medicine had thrown me into a heady mix.  But I had another surprise waiting for me.  

It was a huge lecture hall. One by one it was getting filled with people. A lot of expectant faces. A lot of murmuring and stifled voices. 

That was when a girl walked in. Everyone's attention turned towards her. She was walking with crutches. Someone in the front row kindly vacated a seat for her. The voices were hushed. 

I was not able to recollect the face at first, but it was vaguely familiar.  I was thinking hard to remember where I had seen that face,  when I heard someone just behind me whisper "That's Ashitha". 

That was Ashitha.  The girl who once made all the headlines. The girl who got her crutches from a little round thing she decided to kick. 

She had defied all odds,  swept aside a horribly tragic incident in her childhood to achieve something special. She had achieved the same feat as me, who had had a sheltered life all through,  with all previleges at my disposal. 

The initial astonishment soon gave way to awe and respect.  Seeing her there,  was inspiring beyond all measure.  It had taken away any reason I had to complain about my life.  It had made me appreciate every previlege I had,  a little bit more. 

Throughout my life in medical school,  when things were not looking up,  here was a story I could count on to lift my spirits. Every single time. 

Lifted by the better half

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Marriage is supposed to be a merger of two halves.  Ideally,  these 2 halves are supposed to be in perfect harmony. But the world does not work in such simple ways.  Sometimes you have to carry more weight than you are due. Both literally and figuratively there are going to be occasions where you have to pull your partner through.

For me july 20th, 2013 was one such day. I had decided to take a risk. I had decided to quit my current career, and pursue a different calling. I had worked hard to achieve it.  And my first go at it had ended up as a huge failure. I was depressed beyond measure.

But thankfully,  as always,  I had my better half to rely on. She was there to carry my burden and pull me through. And she did this by being perfectly normal. No,  she did not cry with me, nor hand me tissues. No, she did not give me one of those meaningless pep talks, that only serves the purpose of inflating one's ego. She did not buy me an expensive gift. She did not cook me a special dinner or get me drunk.

She was just normal. At our home, it seemed just another day. We made breakfast together as usual.No coffee or tea,  as both of us prefer hot chocolate. She had another go at perfecting her pancakes, and ended up with slightly less rubbery ones than her previous attempts. We had a rerun of random episodes of Friends(the TV series) for the umpteenth time. We heated up something for lunch. This was followed by a long nap in the afternoon and another reheated course for dinner.

In between, we talked. Not about exams or life or career.  The most mundane, silly things.  The weather. How she was not afraid of spiders,  but 'despised' them(same goes with ghosts, rats and a host of other things). How clumsy I was with my eating,how much food I had spilt on to my t - shirt.  About the furniture we would buy once we had the money.  How the meat tasted better when fried with a pinch of cinnamon.

And somewhere in the languid flow of the insignificant, my failures swam with the flow, becoming one among them.

It was a turning point. I was beaten, but at the same time, was taking my baby steps towards refusing to be beaten by failure.  I was down, but was beginning to resist the urge to stay down. My hopes were dashed, but was beginning to water and nurture whatever was left of it.

Because,  as someone in a movie once said,  hope is a good thing, may be the mest of things.

12 months later, I found myself tasting the success that I craved. I was not jubilant or ecstatic,  just reminiscent, restrained, relieved, and thankful. My memories yanked me back to that day. To the serene brilliance of the space that was our home.  To the pillar of strength that my better half was.  To the unremarkable tastes of the food that day.  To how much of a blessing sleep was and how much of a loss it is at the same time.  To the infinite beauty in everything mundane.

But most of all,  I remember my burden,  and the magnitude of its weight.  I remember the helplessness that I felt, when for a fleeting moment, I thought I had to carry it alone. I remember how someone walked in with silken toes, and without a word, lend me her shoulders. I remember the moment,  the burden was not so heavy after all. And thse are the memories, that will keep me grounded as I hope to blaze a trail through my ambitions.

My wife.  My little sunshine.  As normal as its  warmth. As precious as its light.

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