'Satu, dua, tiga...'

God gives second chances – and just when I thought I had once again for the umpteenth time in my life broken my New Year resolution in the very first week itself – in came the Chinese New Year! The year of the rooster! With stronger determination I resolved to keep my commitment this time round and embarked on my eternal battle of the bulge.

Armed with a shaky will power and a spreading girth I slunk into the apartment gym. Come hail, come snow, come storm – I fought all adversities to make it to the health club regularly. It was after all, just an elevator ride down twelve floors and no excuses were at hand.

A month of regular workouts and not an iota of difference! The only thing sliding at a rapid pace was my motivation level. The gym trainer had a perpetual grin on his face. There were days when I felt it was an effort on his part to egg me on while at other times I felt it was his way of showing empathy. “Try aerobics,” he advised. “It will help kick start your lethargic metabolism.”

So here I was in my brand new aerobics gear – a complete novice looking around at the veterans with terror emblazoned across my face. The class consisted of a petite bunch of Japanese, Koreans and Indonesians all small built and very agile on their feet. It took immense grit to last out the one-hour session.

The instructor conducted the class in Bahasa and it took all my skills to coordinate my hand and leg movements to a count that was alien. “Satu, Dua, Tiga, Empat, Lima, Enam, Next, Change” he counted leading to a total breakdown of communication in my nervous system, as my neurons seemed to wage a complete mutiny. I watched helplessly as my nimble footed classmates pranced around the mirrored studio in complete unison.

"Don't take life too seriously,” I consoled myself - “ you can't come out of it alive anyway." Lets show them what I can do better, I thought, smiling wryly – as I belted out the lyrics of the English numbers that everybody exercised to – turning tables instantly! For there I was with admiration being cast my way even as I moved to the left while the entire group stepped to the right.

The fire drill

“This is to request you to kindly grace the fire evacuation drill by your presence” – read the circular that was distributed to all the residents at ‘Apartmen’ Casablanca.

The last thing on our mind at 8am on a Saturday morning was to run down twelve floors within the allocated time of 5 minutes. We decided to participate just to ensure that we are on the rolls – and in case of an emergency, stand out conspicuously by our absence or by our presence, whichever it may be!

There is always a way to beat the system and we were brimming with ideas on how to do so. At 0755 hrs, five minutes prior to the designated time – we took the elevator to the lobby and headed for the gym in full gear. While we toyed with the dumbbells and weights, a strict vigil was kept on the clock after all, the objective was not to exercise but to avoid any kind of unnecessary exertion.

0806 hrs and no alarm was heard! An agitated Pratap felt cheated and walked in and out creating enough friction to start a fire of his own! The health club attendants breathed a sigh of relief when the alarm finally rang. The Ranas were first to shoot out of the building (and breast the tape) as we had a terrific head start!

The fire drill was an impressive exercise. Short men dressed in oversized asbestos suits ran into the building. Familiar faces smiled at us from behind the helmet visors. The gym attendants rushed out with stretchers, first aid kits and oxygen cylinders. The aerobics instructor gave the performance of his life, playing dead while his colleagues practiced CPR on him. Enthusiastic Japanese residents had their families pose around him while they clicked furiosly on their digi-cams.

The security personnel and gardeners struggled to control the fire hoses, which were aimed skywards as the water jetted out at great pressure. Housekeepers unruffled by the flurry of activity around them politely offered mineral water and an assortment of confectionary to the residents who had come down in various stages of dressing up! Officious looking people ran about with stopwatches and walky-talkies.

The police authorities came in to check whether all procedures were in place and looked content. While all and sundry congratulated a beaming Mr Jaja, the Property Manager on the successful completion of the fire drill – there stood in the middle of the gathering a rather disgruntled, heavy set man in a track suit and gym footwear.

“Jaja” he said with his hands on his hips, “I am very concerned. The water jet from the fire hose does not reach my twelfth floor apartment!”