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No Entry: But Who's Listening?

No Entry: But Who's Listening?

May 10, 2011

Bending over in Bangalore in the name of health.
 


If karma is anything to go by, I must have done some nasty crap in my previous birth, because in this lifetime, my arse is in the line of fire.

Firstly I would like to advise those with a queasy stomach to finish their food before reading any further. And if there are any aspiring models, please proceed, since the following words will enable you to throw up your last full meal without the aid of fingers.

All my life I have protected my bum and its hidden components from unnecessary scrutiny
. This comes naturally to you if you have to spend a major part of your life as a boarder in a Boy's only school. You learn not to bend down to pick up that pencil that fell on the floor but rather bend your knees while you scoop up the errant pencil. This enables one to have a great posture, no back problems and a safe behind that did not call too much attention to itself.

Thus I survived until I reached college. While others in the same situation studied, got girl friends, smoked pot and had a life - I had accidents.

First I broke my leg. This required my first introduction to surgery and a process known as an enema.

Is it just me or does any one else out there feel that if nature intended water to go up that route, we would have had a mouth there?

Then I broke my hand. A couple of months later I had a face to face intimate moment with a milestone on the Udipi – Manipal highway.

More surgeries. More enemas. The doctors are pretty anal
about this. By now I was sure that all the residents of Kasturba Medical College have been introduced to a part of me that even I haven’t seen in my entire life. They probably had a website dedicated to it and christened it tysonhole or something.

Finally I sold my bike and resigned myself to the fact that certain individuals are meant to walk. That’s if they didn’t want their expulsion unit to be more popular than them.

I left college a molested man. I felt that a certain part of me received more attention from men than Freddie Mercury’s did.

Fast forward 10 years
.

I took it upon myself, on a well earned vacation, to enroll myself in one of those naturopathy centres in Bangalore. The place scared the pants off me in more than some ways. So you will excuse me for not naming it, since going by their threats to kick out its paying patrons if they swallow their own saliva, I fear they would hold my son hostage, imprison my wife and put her on a diet of kariela juice for eternity if I sully their good name in any way.

You know that you are not in the list of favorites when God has made all apparent things that are good for you taste vile
. This is where I have a problem with this guy. Great creative genius but really rubbish in creative management. It would have made more sense to have all the nutrients and vitamins in potato chips and steak. No, suddenly if I have to be healthy, I have to become a cow with bad taste.

If cows were the epitome of health, it should make perfect sense to eat them and be healthy but that apparently is not the way it works. Go figure. I really don’t think this guy thought things through when he started this creation thing. But then nobody ever asks me anything anyway.

So, in the name of health, I pay around Rs.20, 000 to be starved and spend my vacation reading signs that promises dire consequences if I sample that cucumber in their vegetable garden. Normally a cucumber is the last thing that titillates my carnivorous palate, but having spent 7 days drinking water that has been chemically flavored , a cucumber begins to look, well, appetizing.

They must have seen me looking at those cucumbers in an amorous way, because the next day they introduced me to Colon Therapy.

That John Wayne swagger when I walk is not vanity, it’s a necessity
.

The only consolation, according to my worldly wise father in law, is that if I think I had it bad, think of the poor guy whose job it was to do it. Now, that definitely put things in perspective.

To think that this time, I paid for this abuse. Like I said, I must have done some crazy arse shit in my last birth.

6 Comments

  • tys
    By
    tys
    10.05.11 11:04 PM
    @alfie : actually the boarding thing is an exaggeration...so dont worry, send ur kids to a boarding school but theres this lil homosexuality thing tht goes on there...they , i think, grow out of it whn thy finally meet girls...u really shud stop taking me too seriously...

    In regrds to the c therapy, i actually did come out feeling as if my whole inside has been dry cleaned...which i immediatly rectified with a diet of meat and alcohol once i got out...
  • Alfred Jones
    By
    Alfred Jones
    10.05.11 09:11 PM
    Tys,

    Are you serious about the whole Shawshank scene at the all boys boarding school you went to?! And yes, I haven't had the whole all boys boarding school experience myself.

    The "colon cleanse" is a staple at a lot of health spa type places - both in India and here in the US. But usually, its just one, ahem, item on the menu. And you get to choose if you want that to be part of your "health rejuvenation" experience. I'm surprised that the place you went to was actively pushing you to go for the c.cleanse. The places I've been to have completely done away with the hard sell on any of their products/services. Giving you the satisfaction of knowing that you and you alone are responsible for literally putting your ass on the line!

    (BTW, how did you feel after? Cleansed? Violated? Both?!)

    ~alfred
  • tys
    By
    tys
    10.05.11 08:22 PM
    @alfie : the broken arm was just one of the probs in tht accident...needed an operation hence the butt flush. Atleast thts what they said. I did have my doubts

    i tke it u havent studied as a boarder in a boys only school. Its a bit like shawshank redemtion. If ur soap slips and fall in the common shower u learn to let it go.

    Theres nothing natural abt naturopathy. It is wrong, i tell u, their fixation with the butt. Just wrong
  • Alfred Jones
    By
    Alfred Jones
    10.05.11 07:16 PM
    Wo wo wo wo, rewind please. You had to get an enema because you broke an arm?! Dood, from one a**hole to another, you've been had.

    And precisely what was the danger in bending down to pick up a fallen pencil at that boys only school you went to? You know what, forget I asked that.

    Re your stint at the naturopathy centre, my sympathies of course but, your ass is grass.

    ~alfred
  • tys
    By
    tys
    10.05.11 02:00 PM
    :) karmic or otherwise, an enema by any name will feel the same. See? Things going up the wrong way mmakes a philosopher of anybody.
  • ravi swami
    By
    ravi swami
    10.05.11 02:51 AM
    ...I think you've had a Karmic Enema, by the sound of it...

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