I woke up groggy and sleepless. A tangle of arms and legs greeted me. And slowly a head emerged from within. “Good morning beta, welcome home” Appa’s head said to me. Thinking myself to be in a surreal Kafkaesque dream, I promptly went back to sleep. Seconds later a leg landed on me, pushing all the wind out of me. “Sorry, I haven’t quite mastered this asana” again Appa’s head spoke to me. I opened my eyes fully and Amma stared at me, nothing unusual in it, except that she was upside down. Jet lag is funny I thought.
A few minutes later I was completely awake, although my body believed it was still ten time zones away. And I got a feel of the situation at home. “One must be healthy, we aren’t getting any younger you know”. The parents had discovered Yoga. What followed was a bewildered me being demonstrated a series of bodily positions I never believed possible, especially from the ones who had birthed me. Appa effortlessly rolled himself into a series of punctuation marks and enquired to my well being. On the other side of the room, Amma was breathing like a wounded rhinoceros. “Advanced Pranayama…good for the stomach you know” she said.
And the house was in the throes of extreme fitness. Mornings started with a pod of garlic. No wonder the milkman left, and the paper fellow doesn’t come in until nine I mused. Breakfast was a minimalistic fruity affair. Lunch was seasoned with queer strange smelling herbs. Dinner almost did not exist. Hedonistic I balked at such austereness. And craved for ghee dripping form edible surfaces. Instead I am supposed to do crunches. Something about me having a non-flat stomach.
* I am home for a vacation. And this is what happens.