“Heat?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “You know how things rise as a result of intense
heat? Indian summers are dreadful.”
He could not control the incredulity that spread across his face as
he raised his eyebrows further and realised that his eyebrows had
reached their physical limits. Around the same time my mental
faculties had also reached their own limits.
“Flatulence, possibly? I asked. “Happens to many people.”
My yogic neighbour had gone red in the face by then. Before he
could reply, a shadow fell across us. It was our Yoga instructor.
“Can you please concentrate on the class and not talk during the
session?”
I apologized and threw a glance at my neighbour. He was
scowling at me.
I did see him at ongoing sessions but he refused to look at me or
take a seat next to me. I continued with my Yoga classes for a
while and even did a few sessions on meditation; possibly hoping
to float when I combined the two. My body refused to float up but
my morale did. Downwards, that is. I gave up Yoga after a couple
of months. I am sure my good Indian friend must be floating
around by now. Arabs need that floating magic carpet, Indians
don’t.
One lesson that I have learnt (the very hard way sometimes, I
assure you) is that you never ever stop being surprised. The
incident that jumps to mind, took place a couple of years ago
when I had invited a few of my friends over for dinner. Many
people of Indian origin are vegetarians. Based on this rather
profound knowledge, I had carefully chosen my guests. Most the
chosen ones did partake of seafood if not meat but I was to be
proven wrong that evening.
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