Get off that treadmill!

And go for a walk in the park - you are on holiday!

 Does anyone in their right mind spend time on a treadmill while on holiday at one of the best hotels in the world? That thought popped into my mind as I walked past the gym at the Four Seasons in Koh Samui (and yes, before you ask, that’s exactly where the forthcoming season of  White Lotus was shot). Why would you waste your time pounding away indoors — no matter how great the view — when you could just as easily be walking on the beach or hiking up the verdant hills that dot the resort? Surely combining aerobic activity with some sightseeing is the way to go while on holiday? 

Well, that’s how I feel anyway. Nothing would induce me to work out indoors when I could be totting up my 10,000 steps a day by doing something interesting outside. One of my top five things to do while on holiday is to take a turn around neighbourhood parks to get a sense of local life (my favourites so far are St James’ Park in London; Il Retiro in Madrid; Central Park in New York; and Lumpini in Bangkok). I try and walk around new cities as much as I can. On inclement days, traipsing around a museum makes the most sense (the National Portrait Gallery in London is a particular haunt of mine), especially when they have a snug little cafe attached to it. And if you are in the middle of the countryside, there is nothing quite as invigorating as a hike uphill to see some interesting vistas. 

When I am on holiday, there is just a small set of activities that are acceptable to me. I don’t, for instance, mind joining a cooking class if it means getting an insight into the cuisine of the host country. This doesn’t always work of course. I once signed up for an afternoon’s class on Sri Lankan cuisine — only to be taught how to make (wait for this!) a dal. But it does work on occasion — and that makes it worth the effort of slaving over a hot stove in the middle of your break. I also love the idea of a food walk, led by a knowledgeable local, which gives you the opportunity to savour the flavours of that region.

But, not to worry, it’s not just about the food (though that is a huge part of it!). I am not averse to doing a bit of yoga in the open air as long as guided meditation is not part of the deal (sitting around with eyes closed, trying to still my mind, is not my idea of holiday fun!). And I can while away entire afternoons by the hotel poolside, kidding myself that I am exercising, even as I waddle lazily from one side of the pool to the other. 

I guess everyone has their acceptable level of activity while on holiday. Some may prefer to spend the entire day lazing in the sun, reading a book while sipping on a cocktail. Some others may find satisfaction in heading for a hike in the evening, armed with bottle of water. 

And then there are those who insist on beginning their day with a six-mile long walk on the treadmill in the hotel gym. It is this group that leaves me mystified. But then, they would be equally baffled by the likes of me!

Weekend rituals

How to distinguish your weekends from the work week

My weekdays always end with a walk in the park. But I never ever venture out for a stroll in my regular haunts over the weekend because of how crowded they get at this time. This is the time that families, groups of friends, and giddy lovers get to spend time outdoors, enjoying a slap-up picnic in the great outdoors or just searching out cozy corners to have a bit of a cuddle. So, not only are the parks overcrowded, so are the parking lots and I can’t help but feel (I know, it’s terribly selfish of me, but there you go) that my world has been taken over by outsiders.

 

So, over the years, I have developed a weekend ritual of my own. Saturdays are working days (also the day on which I file this column) so I don’t do anything special. But Sundays have a rhythm of their own. It all begins with a late breakfast, nothing too elaborate, but something that involves a bit of cooking (instead of lathering on butter on a piece of toast). Then it’s time for a long shower and shampoo, followed up with some serious moisturizing. The grooming session ends with some quality time with my beloved Dyson airwrap to get my hair just so. 

 

The highlight of my Sunday is always lunch, the venue being agreed upon with my husband well in advance. It could be a pizza in the balmy sunshine of the courtyard at the Italian Cultural Centre; it could be a mysore masala dosa at Sagar Ratna; it could be a slap-up Chinese meal or an assortment of chaat. It doesn’t really matter what we eat as long as we don’t eat at home. Having lunch out has become a non-negotiable part of my Sunday routine.

 

A follow-up snooze is not mandatory, though it becomes inevitable if we have had a drink or two. But for the most part, Sunday afternoons are spent in my favourite armchair, reading a book, with a big pot of Chinese tea by my side. I don’t move from this spot until it’s time to make dinner. And Sunday dinner is always at home, more often than not a one-pot meal – a quick stir-fry, a basic risotto, or even a masala khichdi – because we are still so full from the enormous lunch.

 

I know that there are people who will be appalled by just how lazy my Sundays are. These are the kinds of people who wake up early to go play a round of golf, maybe put in a tennis lesson or two, or just hit the gym. Then, there are those who spend this day doing all the household chores that have accumulated through the week: clearing out the cupboards; dusting the bookshelves; doing laundry; and the like. But what can I say? I would rather put in extra hours during the week to finish all this stuff so that I have Sunday as a clear day in which I do nothing.

 

The Italians have a phrase for this. They call dolce far niente, loosely translated as the sweetness of doing nothing at all, or the pleasure inherent in pure laziness. And that one phrase sums up my Sundays – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Pandemic praise

Now that life has returned to normal, here are some things I miss about Covid lockdowns

 

I suppose it was bound to happen. After many months of celebrating the end of Covid lockdowns and rejoicing in the fact that life was returning to normal, I suddenly find myself in the decidedly odd position of missing the pandemic. 

 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go back to the bad old days, when we were all locked in our houses and had to wear N95 masks even to open the door for deliveries. Perish the thought! But increasingly, there are moments when I find myself thinking back to the pandemic with nostalgia rather than dread.

 

What can you possibly miss about those dark days of Covid lockdowns, I hear you ask, in tones of utter incredulity. Well, here are just some things I miss, in no particular order

 

·       What I loved best about the days of the pandemic was how my world shrank down to my core group. All those casual acquaintances, distant family members, professional contacts, all fell victim to social distancing. And what I was left with was the people I truly cared about: my immediate family, my best friends, my closest neighbours. It made me realise that we don’t really need the vast social circle we build around ourselves. All that matters is the handful of people who make your world complete. Everything else is extraneous – and that is a truly liberating feeling.

·       The thing I treasured most about this period, when we were all locked up in our homes, was that I had almost unlimited time to myself, where I could do exactly what I wanted without the thousand other distractions that are usually a part of life. This is what allowed me to concentrate on the writing of my novel, Madam Prime Minister (a sequel to my first political thriller, Race Course Road), ensuring that I finished it in record time. Now that I am struggling to finish the spy novel that I am currently working on, I find myself longing for those Covid lockdown days, when it was so much easier to concentrate on my writing.

·       Going for walks in my favourite parks when the lockdown became less severe was, without fail, the highlight of my day. There were very few people around because not many folks were venturing outdoors. So, I had vast, vacant spaces to myself for the most part, and I could enjoy the spring flowers and the summer blooms in splendid solitude. Now that the parks are overflowing with picknickers, those Covid-tinged days seem like a dream that ended too soon.

·       It was during the pandemic that I rediscovered the romance of the road trip and discovered the charms of places closer to home. Not only was it a relief not to have to brave airport security and long flights to go on holiday, but I also found that road trips brought me closer to the country that I was driving through, giving my experiences an immediacy that air travel sorely lacked.

·       But the absolute best bit about the pandemic days was the air that we got to breathe in Delhi. Thanks to the lack of construction work, and absence of vehicular traffic, the pollution virtually vanished. Every day was a blue-sky day and the air quality varied between good and moderate. Bliss!

 

So yes, the pandemic came with some blessings as well – though we may have been blind to them at the time.

Winter is coming

And I could not be more delighted…

 

Growing up in Calcutta, I was always overcome with excitement when the shiuli tree near my house started flowering. That was the first sign that Pujo was coming, and that four days of festivities were in my immediate future. These days I live in Delhi, and there is no shiuli tree to remind me of the arrival of Pujo. But all is not lost. There is an enormous Saptaparni (also known as Alstonia, or even Devil’s tree) tree overhanging my balcony, whose flowering heralds the beginning of winter in Delhi.

 

Last night, as I returned home late after dinner, I was stopped in my tracks by a heady scent that told me that, yes, winter was just around the corner. Notwithstanding the late hour, I stepped out on my balcony, and settled down on my wicker chair, just breathing in the sweet perfume of the flowers. For me, that is the scent of the Delhi winter, the season that I long for all year round. 

 

Yes, I know, Delhi winters are not what they used to be. There is the ever-present specter of pollution, as the farmers in neighbouring Punjab set fire to the stubble in their fields in what has become a depressing annual ritual. The Diwali crackers – set off by idiots who clearly have a death wish – only add to the horrific miasma hanging over the city. Combine this with vehicular pollution and the cold weather which makes all the pollutants sink to the bottom of the atmosphere, and you have a perfect poisonous cocktail that can take years off a person’s life.

 

I know all that. And God knows, I suffer with everyone else, perhaps even more so because of my chronic asthma that is triggered in this season. But, but, but…on the rare occasions when the skies finally clear and the haze fades to expose a clear blue sky, there is nothing quite so beautiful as a crisp winter day in Delhi. 

 

So, what’s the best way to make the most of days like these – especially given how rare they have become?

 

Well, for me it all begins with a winter special breakfast. Crisp aloo parathas, smeared liberally with homemade white butter, washed down with cups of milky tea, all served on the corner of the balcony that gets the morning sun. It’s hard to get any work done after that, because, food coma. But honestly, it’s well worth taking the morning off to indulge every once in a while.

 

Other winter staples make an appearance at lunch and dinner: aloo-methi subzi, sarson ka saag, makki ki roti, bathua raita, and so much more. This is the season to indulge your taste buds, and to pile on an extra layer of fat to deal with the cold winds of winter. 

 

Talking of layers, this is also the season to air all your winter staples that have been skulking in the back of your wardrobe all year. It’s time to wear those super-soft luxurious cashmere sweaters, drape those butter-smooth pashmina shawls, and pull them all together with tailored coats that give a polished edge to your look. 

 

Once you are all layered up, and have pulled on a pair of comfy boots, it’s time to head out to enjoy the great outdoors. It could just be a stroll through Khan Market, stopping for a cappuccino and a macaroon along the way. It could be a guided tour through such historical sites as Humayun’s Tomb or the Red Fort. Or it could simply be a walk in the park, enjoying the crisp breeze blowing your face, and feasting your eyes on the seasonal blooms that brighten up the greenery at this time of year.

 

Wherever you head and whatever you do, remember to make the most of perfect winter days. These days they are few and far between. Before you know it, the temperatures will begin to rise again, and the sizzling summer will be upon us. And it will be a long wait before the Saptaparni flowers again.

Take a shot!

Now that the Covid vaccine is here, it’s time to plan for a post-pandemic reality

Finally, after a year of heartache and heartbreak, there is something to cheer about. The Covid 19 vaccine is ready and about to hit the market all across the world. Actually, make that vaccines – in the plural – because there are at least three to four candidates that have given good outcomes in clinical trials. In India, we are pinning our hopes on the Oxford Astro-Zeneca vaccine though there is an indigenous vaccine in the works as well.

So, in another month or so, we can expect the vaccination process to begin for earnest in India. There will be two jabs administered in an interval of a couple of weeks, and it will then take a few weeks for immunity to be established – and with a bit of luck that should last for at least a year.

As someone with quite a few co-morbidities (don’t ask!) I am hoping that I will manage to get vaccinated sooner rather than later. And in anticipation of that, I am already making plans for a post-immunisation life. Here’s just a taste of what I am so looking forward to.

•       It’s now been nine months and counting since I last saw my sister, even though we both live in the same city. But given that she is in a high-risk category, I desisted from visiting her for fear that she might get infected. Once we are both vaccinated though, it will be time for all the jhappis and pappis that we have been storing up to deploy during better days.

•       Going for a walk without a mask. Yes, I know it will be months before we get to a place where enough people have been immunized that it is safe to take off your mask in public. But that day will surely dawn, and I can wait to celebrate with a stroll down Lodi Gardens or my current new favourite, Sunder Nursery.

•       Getting my hair coloured and highlighted at a salon is next on my to-do list. Many of my braver friends have already ventured forth to visit their hairdressers. But, coward that I am, I have been colouring my hair myself with a home dye kit. And though I have got better at it over the past few months, I still get a pang when I see pictures of mine from the pre-Covid era and see how much better my hair looked when professionals were in charge. And I simply can’t wait to look like that again.

•       I’ve never been a great one for manicures and pedicures – all that waiting around for paint to dry bores me senseless – but I am an absolute sucker for massages. In my view, there is nothing more luxurious that lying in a darkened room, with soft music playing, while your aches and pains are magicked away by the soft but firm touch of a stranger. As indulgences go, there is no beating this one. And when spas finally cease to be no-go areas, I will be first in line for some serious pampering.

•       Never in a million years did I think it was possible that I would actually miss airports, but guess what, Covid has done the impossible. These days I actually find myself dreaming of checking in for a flight, roaming aimlessly through the duty-free area, picking up the odd perfume or lipstick, and then meandering on to the plane.

•       Such is my nostalgia for air travel that even the thought of those disgusting airline meals can’t quite put me off. Instead I fantasize about quaffing endless glasses of champagne as I watch rubbishy movies on the inflight entertainment system, dozing off in front of the screen only to land in an entirely new destination, which is just crying out to be explored within an inch of its life.

•       And last, but certainly not the least, there is the street food that I have missed so insanely over the past few months. The moment my vaccine kicks in, I am off to my neighbourhood chaat place, standing in line with strangers to eat golgappas and gorge on some aloo tikkis or even a piping hot plate of channa bhaturas. I will probably end up catching something other than Covid, but it will be totally worth it.

Sometimes, life is just a walk in the park...

Actually, these days, it’s more of a photography session!

Spring is always the best time to take a walk in Delhi’s Lodi Gardens. The flowers are blooming, the trees are alive, the grass is greener than ever, and the birdsong is enough to make your heart soar. This spring though, as I walked briskly down its little winding roads, I realized that while I hadn’t been looking Lodi Gardens had turned into a photography studio rather than the neighbourhood park I remembered it as. 

To be fair, over the years, you could always find the odd couple posing for their engagement/wedding photos, looking self-conscious and embarrassed in all their finery amidst the joggers in their track pants and T-shirts. But this was something entirely different.

As I entered through the Ashoka Gate, the first thing I saw was a heavily-pregnant lady, wearing a maroon empire-line maxi-dress, posing in silhouette against one of the many monuments Lodi Gardens is littered with. Kneeling in front of her was a man who I presumed was her husband, his hand placed proprietorially on her baby bump. Immortalizing this moment for posterity (and for the progeny) was a burly bearded photographer wielding a DSLR camera like it was an offensive weapon, while his two assistants held up sheets of white thermacol at different angles to provide the best light.

I smiled indulgently at this tableau and moved on. I couldn’t have gone more than thirty paces when yet another photography session caught my eye. This time it was a couple who looked to be in their early 30s, accompanied by a whole team of hair and make-up people, who had opened their little suitcase of products and were conducting urgent repairs on the principals. Once the touch-up was done, one of the photographer’s assistants handed the couple a golden balloon in the shape of the number one. They hoisted it up between them, smiled widely and said ‘cheese’ to celebrate what I can only hope was their first anniversary. 

Fifty yards on, another love story was being memorialized on camera. This time, it was clearly a proposal, or rather, the re-enacting of one. The boy was in the now-mandatory position of being down on one knee, holding up a ring box in his right hand, while he held out his left arm in what can only be described as a Shah Rukh Khan pose. The girl was doing her best Sushmita-Sen-wins-Miss-Universe impression, holding her hands to her mouth in mock-shock and faux-awe. They held this pose for absolute ages as the photographer captured it from every conceivable angle. Given how much effort they had put into the ‘proposal’ I was sure that their marriage would be the stuff of legend.

And thus it went, photo-session after photo-session, as I tried my best to meet my target of 10,000 steps. And not just that day either; this wa pretty much par for the course every single time I went for a walk in Lodi Gardens.

As I trudged along, I tried to figure out what accounted for this sudden urge for ordinary, middle-class folk to conduct ‘glam shoots’ to commemorate some moment or the other. And then, it suddenly hit me: Instagram!

That’s where all these photos were headed; to be posted on ‘Insta’ with a plethora of hashtags for their family and friends to ‘like’ and comment on. And everyone knows that when it comes to Instagram, you have to look your very best, the photo has to be professional quality, so why not hire experts to do the job? Sure, it can’t be cheap. But hey, a good photo will live on forever on Insta; and who knows, if it is striking enough, it may even go viral!

I guess this was bound to happen one day. A movement that began with everybody taking pictures of their breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the odd fancy meal at an expensive restaurant was bound to end up with heavily-curated pictures of seminal moments of our lives, all subtly highlighted and posted on Insta with a suitable filter (X-pro or Lo-fi, anyone?). After all, if you post innumerable photos showing off the beautiful locations of your summer/winter vacations, then how can you ignore important milestones like proposals, anniversaries, pregnancies, etc.? And surely, such landmark moments rate more than the usual ‘selfies’ (even if they are taken with a selfie-stick). No, you need to call in the professionals at such times.

So, I guess that’s why my favourite neighbourhood spot for long, lonely walks has been transformed into Photography Central. There are more glittery stilettoes in evidence than sturdy running shoes. There are more shiny dresses around than there are jogging pants. And there are more hair and make-up people around than actual exercise enthusiasts.

And you know what? I love it!

I love watching those young lovers making gooey eyes at one another. I love seeing the look of pride in a young man’s eyes as he cradles his wife’s pregnant belly. And, of course, I love the corny proposal scenarios that play out every day in front of me.

I don’t know how much these photography sessions cost (and I, for one, would never pay good money for them). But I do know that for sheer entertainment value alone, they are priceless.