NEW RELIGIOUS ALIGNMENT : SIX PACKS TO HUMPTY DUMPTY

NEW RELIGIOUS ALIGNMENT : SIX PACKS TO HUMPTY DUMPTY

Brad stood tall, for someone of his type, muscular and alert, like any other day, on the pavement leading up to our jogging park. His small tail wagged and his eyes sparkled in anticipation as he saw me. Like every other day, I, clad in my track pants and walking shoes, walked upto him and caressed him on his forehead. My day was made and, I hoped, he too felt the same. Both then went about his own business, me towards the park for an hour’s brisk walk and he, pulled and tugged by the harness   his master held, for his morning walk.  

Both man (oops women too!) and animal seamlessly slipped into this routine. Man pretending to have evolved from mending sheep and ploughing fields to manning workstations. Animals, ending up caged and called as pets, had no pretensions about their state.  Both led a sedentary life. Both had food served literally on a platter. To most at least. Man got it by clicking on an App and animal, probably, by ringing a bell. 

 Life did not adapt. Evolution did not measure up. Disaster was in the making. But man’s instinct for survival made him and her look at options. Soon the answer was proclaimed. A new breed of professionals took over. They recommended that both man and animal burn energy, fat, carbs and what have you. It also created new businesses. For burning energy you need differently designed attire, use equipment, instructors and instruction manuals. The corrective measures spread as fast as you could send data and voice across space. Across all continents and regions, ethnicities and economic strata.

It soon became a religion. The high priests of this religion practised yoga. They claimed that yoga gave then a “call drop free” communication link with the gods.

 A canny politician, recently, even had thousands of men and women assemble on Raj path, burn energy and practice yoga. No animals were, sadly, invited. Animals of the humankind probably were!

A large group of converts are the morning walkers. They are the upper castes of this religion. Not as holy as yogis, but upper still. They too got mind and body in rhythmic management of mass and velocity.   Proponents of this ritual claimed that it clenced the soul, calmed the mind apart from reducing your BMI. It became the chapel where you could go and get atonement for all those carbs you guiltily consumed the previous evening.  A sub-sect of this upper casts are the joggers. A status you reach after years of penance.  They even conducted “Jogging kumb melas “   in major cities. The celebrities flocked to participate in these melas . Quacks affiliated to this religion proposed laughter as the best medicine.

The six packs brigade claimed they were the Kshatriyas. The equipment suppliers the Vaishyas. That left those who accumulated mass, reduced their velocity to a crawl   and thus spent no energy. Remember E =mc-squared. They were the shudras. Out castes! 

Inter-caste union is also, mysteriously, possible. One famous Yogi peddles it on the idiot box and also sells stuff, reaping wealth in this cosmic union of the Brahmin and the Vaishyas. The Vaishyas merrily sold their wares during the jogging melas. An example of inter caste collaboration. Clap, clap ,clap !

I was a convert to this religion long back. Fate made me a walker. And like all religions, nothing other than faith continues to keep me a follower.  

The walking track is the temple. You visit them either in the early morning or after sunset. The footsteps are the hymns. The most devoted “sing" these hymns faster. The aged believe in a slow rendering. But they are temple regulars.   Again inter-caste unions are occasionally attempted. The Shudras, their adidas on, hep looking water flask, head band and a headphone plugged to the ear and dangling out of a smartphone, visit the temple in right earnest.  With determination as wide as their midriff. 

Unions like these are most often, by unwritten divine decree, bound to fail. They flash like a meteorite and vanish.

A completely different but exciting world exists inside the ashrams.

The ones like me come, walk and complete their ritual. Day after day. Rain or sunshine. Walk we must. That is our path to nirvana.

The aged exchange notes after their walk. So they assemble in groups. Men talk about the tragi- comic dance of our democracy. Of cricket. The women, about other women. 

Then, there is an interesting sect. They too come regularly. Walk and talk. Die hard friends. Quite a few, admittedly, pop up insulin every day. Then they sit around and partake " Prasad". There is no idol worship in this religion. So Prasad is directly consumed. The holy book and their Vedas outlines what this Prasad can be. Prasad  like idly, vada, samosa etc are often partaken . Poorna satisfaction. What you burn so shall you consume! This sect  got enlightenment under the roof of a dhaba.

In some temple tracks the animal paths are different. As ordained by karma, I suppose. Here the dog, as is mostly the case, leads the man. Brad's half hour of freedom, expressed through random walks and sprints, for once, proclaims an animal’s triumph over man.  

Thus animal and man, Brad and me. Trying to keep our tryst with destiny, hoping it will lead us to heaven. The karmic cycle or the battle of the bulge goes on.

Circa 2075 : breaking news: violent clash broke out between the six-packs and the obese( lower castes)  and some have been killed or injured. The large gathering of obesity caste were demanding reservation and equal rights after over 90 years of exploitation.

History repeats itself, first as a farce , then as a tragedy!