Spinning around

The class is filled with a variety of people. Some body shapes distinctly have never been to a gym before. A few look toned and gladiatorial. They could walk out of the spinning class and straight to a Miss India contest.


In the midst of this I stand a new initiate. The music blares I am on a stationary cycle. As the beats thump thump a steady rhythm I look around and see sweaty bodies dripping the sins of yesterday's chocolate mouse, or the ghee dolloped biryani.


After 45 minutes I am light headed; possibly I would have been in Bandra by now if I had cycled. But here I am attempting a new world record in spin cycling, my wife who has just had a baby 3 months ago, smiles at me in encouragement. Through the sweaty haze I look around. The man next to me seems so desperate for company that he makes every attempt to talk, to me, the petite girl across from him , another person who has missed a class before, perhaps this is as much a social outing for him as an exercise regimen.

A housewife who has suddenly woken up to her reality pedals across furiously. Furious at herself for just letting it all go, furious at her husband for not having enough time, furious at life having given her the short shrift.

A super well built amazonian who is scared she is becoming too muscular, a merchandiser counting shipments and orders along with calories.

In the light headedness I see a vision, of life in Mumbai. Everyone furiously pedaling, their wares and goods. Sweating profusely yet maintaining the perfect look. And in the end still at the same place where they started.

My vision clouds further, I am in a park in Lucknow, grass unmowed for kilometres, my father taking an unhurried walk. People exchanging greetings, sharing newspapers, some leisurely doing yoga. Mostly the people are old, time is for them a throwaway commodity, a few young girls accompany their parents, their frenetic pace is in keeping with our time, a few college graduates with degrees and no jobs hang around playing romeo to these mobile Juliet's.

1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2 the trainer exhorts.

That's what we are, singles and couples, singles and couples...

1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2 he barks

Divorce rates are up, uncoupled singles are copulating with new partners!!

And suddenly the class is up!

I would have been in Mahabaleshwar by now!! With a cool breeze in my hair. I could have stopped on the roadside and had a hot cup of sweetened tea. An odd shaped stone would have bounced across the road. Some cows would have brushed against my cycle.

The air conditioned sweat drips down my brow. A hand towel shakes me back to reality. And as I leave class I cannot help but gaze at the slim mobile phone in the hand of the obese man running on the treadmill as he negotiates his stocks and shares through the dizzying sensex.