Friday, March 27

Diet Blues

As a girl
I ate parathas
for breakfast
Triangular shaped
just like sin
Simmering hot,
Off a tawa
Fluffy like cotton
Beige parathas
dark brown
Pimples in between

I ate them
Aloo bhunjiya
Crispy, red
Oil soaked
Now sold as
Potato wedges
By Mac Donald’s
In thin
paper bags

I felt fed
Good, healthy
Ready to work
I never put on
I didn’t gym
Dreamt a lot
Walked some bit
Gorged food all day
Ma’s aloo curry
Home made kadhi badi
Evenings were aloo chops
Or chicken rolls
Bought off a greasy
Smelling of
Sauces and eggs
The 15 bucks
I chomped on
With little guilt

Ma would
Many a times
Take care girl
In those days
I did not know
The ways of world
And how your
own body
betrays you
In the end.

And now
My wafer thin
She is 5 kgs
Good bless her
I am ready
To trade
Fat for fat
And waist
For waist

I am careful.
I don’t buy
Potatoes any more
Calories are counted
Taken and
A hopeless trade
Over a treadmill
To the gym
In between
Or after office

My friends say
Don’t think so hard
You self crazed
Obsessed bitch
You are not going
To walk the
ramp ever?
Then why all this

Its all
About feeling great.
I want to say
With a face so straight.

And then I chide
How can I ?
Think of my diet
When children
Are dying
In Somalia
And my maid
Who doubles up
as my cook
Runs off
To her home
To feed a good for nothing
Husband and waiting kids
After making my veg juice
Also when
IPL moves out of India
Giving space
To elections.

How can I think of myself?
Am I am bimbette?
To be thinking
All this while
About how I look.

I think of running
An opinion poll
On blogger
Or even office
(that’s my idea of radical these days) !!!
Am I very fat?
Say “Yes” or “No”.
But not
“Don’t’ care”.

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