Long ago, in my village in Kerala, it was inconceivable for anyone to be seen walking for exercise to lose weight, combat cholesterol, BP, Blood sugar and generally to keep in shape. The natural question that would pop out from a dyed in the wool villager would be “ Why is he walking with no apparent purpose? He seems to be going nowhere. Why can’t he plough the fields?” Good questions, considering that ploughing the fields brings economic returns and other tangible benefits: good crops, good appetite, and good sleep. Above all able bodied males are kept busy and weaned away from temptations like gambling, drinking etc or standing on village corners posing as head load workers eternally waiting for a lorry to come bearing goods to be unpacked or loaded.
Head load workers in Kerala are an economic phenomenon with a work culture and philosophy of its’ own. Loading and unloading of goodies are considered major economic activities, albeit without any spin-off. So you could find youngsters wearing blue of red shirts (depending on their political/union persuasion), waiting for a lorry carrying bricks or sand to be unloaded for home construction. The wages of loading/ unloading are divided on the basis union strength/muscle power of respective unions. Massive house construction all along the Kerala countryside is the one activity that fuelled this trade (apart from effectively denuding the sand banks of the beautiful rivers of Kerala). Malayalis follow the example of heroes of MT Vasudevan Nair’s novels (famous Malayalam novelist). A child born to poverty, gets a smattering of education, makes good overseas and returns home to build a huge mansion to wreak revenge on the society that was so condescending to him once. The postscript is untold… They then go on to lead a lonely retired life, far away from children seeking fortunes abroad and die with inadequate medical care.
In the eighties slowly a lot of agricultural labour shifted to head load workers, generally lazing around in the village teashop, playing cards and waiting for work. Owners of brick kilns or contractors were allowed to unload the goodies themselves, but not before paying the unloading charges to these worthies. Pinarayi Vijayan, the Kerala communist leader has recently said that the practice of collecting fees for just watching has to be discontinued by the head load workers. In Kerala, it was interpreted as a seminal and earthshaking statement for a Marxist leader to make. Something like Deng Xiao Ping’s statement on colour of Mice…. So much for sedentary vocations like loading and unloading which kept the population engaged notionally. Since livelihood itself was a question mark, physical fitness was a distant concept.
I walk in the Sadiq Nagar Aurobindo Park near my residence in Delhi- Early morning and sometimes late in the evening. There is a more up market park close to my house, behind the Ansal Plaza. I keep away from the place in the evening because one is bound to stumble into young couples indulging in public displays of affection. In addition to turning wistful and sad about an eventless youth, one fears that the intrusion of bald middle aged Babus in their midst might make the whole scenario unromantic and unsuitable for such activities. In the morning the crowd is distinctly upper crust. Wealthy old men, powerful bureaucrats, women in lycra outfits displaying curves are seen around the place. I don’t feel part of that crowd. So Sadiq Nagar it is. Mostly consisting of low-middle level Babus, their spouses and their children could be spotted there. But the walking does some good. Once you get going, it is a breeze to complete a few rounds. There is a distinct feeling of physical wellness. In the winters, it is too cold to venture out in the morning & evening. I thought of buying a treadmill and doing a few kilometers at home. But the prices of good ones put me off.
Often there is loud raucous laughter from the group in the middle of the grassy middle of the park performing Ramdev Maharaj Yoga methods, or deep breaths and sudden exhalation with blood curdling noises. I did see Ramdev Maharaj at the Kolkata airport last year. The sight of a CISF security person frisking him and in a smooth flourish, touching his feet is still there in my mind as an unforgettable Kodak moment. You could even see some standing near trees performing various facial and bodily gestures, which could be considered as suggestive of those who have gone soft in the head. Then there are the kids: basically 16-20 year olds who see the walk in the park as a social occasion for meeting their loved ones away from the gazing eyes of parents and to discuss entrance examinations & career options. Sometimes there would be RSS types doing morning exercises- I suppose it is time for them to engage a designer to conceive a different uniform- the khaki shorts are from another era, it is almost like watching a sepia tinted period film from the 1920s.
I have my ipod plugged on to my ears while walking. I listen to some of my old songs, the favourites play list increasingly populated by folk songs from the sixties. When I get tired of them, I switch to my son’s music- Jay Z, Green Day and Linkin Park. On overcast days when rains are imminent, I switch to Classical Western or Carnatic classical, to suit the mood of the occasion. During summer, the park is full with a lot more kids around. Karate and Tae Kwondo classes are held in a corner. Winters see thin crowd. I limit my walks to weekends, to escape the wheezing problems that plague my lungs with the onset of winter. But everytime I walk, I imagine what a walk by me in the countryside would be seen by headload workers awaiting the next load to arrive.
Head load workers in Kerala are an economic phenomenon with a work culture and philosophy of its’ own. Loading and unloading of goodies are considered major economic activities, albeit without any spin-off. So you could find youngsters wearing blue of red shirts (depending on their political/union persuasion), waiting for a lorry carrying bricks or sand to be unloaded for home construction. The wages of loading/ unloading are divided on the basis union strength/muscle power of respective unions. Massive house construction all along the Kerala countryside is the one activity that fuelled this trade (apart from effectively denuding the sand banks of the beautiful rivers of Kerala). Malayalis follow the example of heroes of MT Vasudevan Nair’s novels (famous Malayalam novelist). A child born to poverty, gets a smattering of education, makes good overseas and returns home to build a huge mansion to wreak revenge on the society that was so condescending to him once. The postscript is untold… They then go on to lead a lonely retired life, far away from children seeking fortunes abroad and die with inadequate medical care.
In the eighties slowly a lot of agricultural labour shifted to head load workers, generally lazing around in the village teashop, playing cards and waiting for work. Owners of brick kilns or contractors were allowed to unload the goodies themselves, but not before paying the unloading charges to these worthies. Pinarayi Vijayan, the Kerala communist leader has recently said that the practice of collecting fees for just watching has to be discontinued by the head load workers. In Kerala, it was interpreted as a seminal and earthshaking statement for a Marxist leader to make. Something like Deng Xiao Ping’s statement on colour of Mice…. So much for sedentary vocations like loading and unloading which kept the population engaged notionally. Since livelihood itself was a question mark, physical fitness was a distant concept.
I walk in the Sadiq Nagar Aurobindo Park near my residence in Delhi- Early morning and sometimes late in the evening. There is a more up market park close to my house, behind the Ansal Plaza. I keep away from the place in the evening because one is bound to stumble into young couples indulging in public displays of affection. In addition to turning wistful and sad about an eventless youth, one fears that the intrusion of bald middle aged Babus in their midst might make the whole scenario unromantic and unsuitable for such activities. In the morning the crowd is distinctly upper crust. Wealthy old men, powerful bureaucrats, women in lycra outfits displaying curves are seen around the place. I don’t feel part of that crowd. So Sadiq Nagar it is. Mostly consisting of low-middle level Babus, their spouses and their children could be spotted there. But the walking does some good. Once you get going, it is a breeze to complete a few rounds. There is a distinct feeling of physical wellness. In the winters, it is too cold to venture out in the morning & evening. I thought of buying a treadmill and doing a few kilometers at home. But the prices of good ones put me off.
Often there is loud raucous laughter from the group in the middle of the grassy middle of the park performing Ramdev Maharaj Yoga methods, or deep breaths and sudden exhalation with blood curdling noises. I did see Ramdev Maharaj at the Kolkata airport last year. The sight of a CISF security person frisking him and in a smooth flourish, touching his feet is still there in my mind as an unforgettable Kodak moment. You could even see some standing near trees performing various facial and bodily gestures, which could be considered as suggestive of those who have gone soft in the head. Then there are the kids: basically 16-20 year olds who see the walk in the park as a social occasion for meeting their loved ones away from the gazing eyes of parents and to discuss entrance examinations & career options. Sometimes there would be RSS types doing morning exercises- I suppose it is time for them to engage a designer to conceive a different uniform- the khaki shorts are from another era, it is almost like watching a sepia tinted period film from the 1920s.
I have my ipod plugged on to my ears while walking. I listen to some of my old songs, the favourites play list increasingly populated by folk songs from the sixties. When I get tired of them, I switch to my son’s music- Jay Z, Green Day and Linkin Park. On overcast days when rains are imminent, I switch to Classical Western or Carnatic classical, to suit the mood of the occasion. During summer, the park is full with a lot more kids around. Karate and Tae Kwondo classes are held in a corner. Winters see thin crowd. I limit my walks to weekends, to escape the wheezing problems that plague my lungs with the onset of winter. But everytime I walk, I imagine what a walk by me in the countryside would be seen by headload workers awaiting the next load to arrive.
