Upsize Me!

I was so unbelievably hideously grossly fat yesterday. When I looked in the mirror, I could swear it suppressed a giggle before exchanging some ‘fat jokes’ with the door I squeezed through shortly after. And my footwear groaned. I know that for a fact because they bit me just after they did. And I huffed, puffed and panted all the way down the stairs. Even as I panted in near-total exhaustion, I shuddered to think what the journey up was going to be like! Maybe it is time I got a ventilator and an oxygen tank fixed at the staircase.

But I digress. The issue is not about the staircase. And no. It is not about the ventilator either. It is evidently about the very obviously fat me. And the worst part is that I have no idea how I got this way! It was an altogether different me that arrived in New York City over six months ago…

When my memory spools back to that glorious time when I actually set foot in the land of opportunity (and the Big Apple at that!), I was a strapping young man in the prime of his youth. Okay! I wasn’t stunning looking, but I did get the occasional glance. I was tall (by Indian standards. I still had to come face-to-face with the African-Americans then. Remember?) handsome (Okay. Okay! It could be a matter of perspective) and fabulously fit. No excuses about that. Not only had I been the University sprinting champion, but had also played a number of sports including basketball, tennis and cricket.

And I had secured admission in the City University of New York Tech College (CUNY, not to be confused with the arguably more popular SUNY!) Man! I tell you, it was a brilliant college. As a proud member of the NCAA Div III, this was one college where athletics was more than a way of life. So there was nothing on earth that was going to keep me away from the track. Or so I thought.

Like every newbie Indian in the Big Apple, I initially had some problem with the food. Born and bred on home-cooked, authentic Indian cuisine, I had a wee bit of trouble adapting to the fast foods that seemed to be a way of life in the US. But then, some friendly Indian students showed me the way around the place. The University was in Jay Street. Within a radius of a couple of kilometers, there were around a hundred (I am NOT exaggerating!) Indian Restaurants. The first one I happened to go to was Café Bombay (how apt!) on the nearby Duffield Street.

Like all other good Indian restaurants in the US, this too was run by a friendly Bangladeshi immigrant. But since the food tasted heavenly and was as close to authentic Indian food as you could get, we frequented the place. Soon, we discovered other similar places. And began going there frequently. We went to Amin Indian Cuisine, Bombay Masala Restaurant on 49th Street, Basera North Indian Cuisine, the quaint India Village on 2nd Avenue, Thali Indian vegetarian on Greenwich Avenue, the robust Karahi Indian Cuisine on Broome Street, the fanciful Indian Taj on Bleeker Street, Sheezan Indian Restaurant on Church Street, delectable Curry & Curry on 33rd Street and even India on the Hudson on Washington Street that was relatively far away!

A month or two of this sort of frenetic Indian cuisine hunting and I began to spout paneer butter masala out of my ears. Not to mention a well-proportioned paunch around my midriff. Things actually came to such a pass that the very sight of Indian cuisine began to switch off my appetite. But my friends and I had become such a fixture at the above-mentioned places, that we found it very difficult to tear ourselves away. Fortunately the college canteen came to our rescue. I’d never tasted pretzels before. And suddenly they tasted heavenly. The same was the case with bagels. I was thrilled to discover that they came with all sorts of fillings and toppings. And coffee! Ah! At home, I’d always had freshly brewed filter coffee (40% Peaberry A, 40% Peaberry B and 20% chicory!) Now, I discovered to my joy that there were hundreds of varieties of coffee. And all of them were heavenly. And when I happened to go to the Beach Channel Mart on Court Street, I discovered the difference between the Maharaja Mac back home and the authentic all-American burger!

Thus began my downfall into the abysmal depths of junk-food hell. I soon discovered for instance that the difference between a meal and an upsized option was minimal. Twice the food for one and a half times the price! So I naturally opted for the upsize. And when my local newspaper started offering Mc Donald’s coupons, I sprang and collected them like a starving man. Each coupon got me discounts of up to 3 dollars on a regular meal. Which meant two meals for the price of one. I just freaked out! Life soon became a roller-coaster ride between classes and the canteen, classes and the golden arches, classes and Starbucks and classes and Dunkin’s. The athletics track was conveniently forgotten, my tight-fitting clothes discarded for humungous ‘Brother’ wear — the ‘CUNYform’ as we called it and I kept getting happier and more prosperous looking. In other words — fat!

Till the day my mirror giggled and exchanged some fat jokes with the door. My mirror and my door making fun of me! What did they think? That I didn’t have the willpower to hit the track and sweat the few extra pounds off? I was a sprinter wasn’t I? I could do it anytime. And — as I told myself — I was not eating American junk food because I was mesmerized by it. Oh no! In fact, going by the grease-laden dal tadka and butter masala most Indian restaurants dished out, I was practically on a salad diet! Never mind the fact that I had stepped off the plane like a spring bean and in just six months had become a true Ohio potato!

But nevertheless, I was going to show my furniture their place. As soon as I got back home. That very evening, I took matters into my own hands. I psyched myself up all through the day so that when I got home, I could roll-up my sleeves, firm-up my will and put my heart, soul and body to the task. And to never flinch — till the deed be done and the objective achieved. And I’m proud to say, I did it!

I now no longer have a mirror, and in the place where my door existed there is now a gaping hole that serves me just as well! Not all that remains is to get to the nearest Mc Donald’s and ask them for the biggest, most delicious meal they had. Upsize of course!