Once Upon A Time - Short Story Collection

Ironically Unhealthy

There was a couple sitting in the cafe when I walked in. As the light was low, I didn't know who they were until the woman turned around, and I saw it was my wife, Sarika.

Her companion was her workout buddy, Uday. I missed one other person there, Komal, who dropped by on a rare Sunday. 

The café was close to the jogging park, and it made sense to find them here. It was not a normal café. It was a fitness freak's go to place. They served all kinds of healthy snacks and beverages. These mostly tasted like grass and smelt like cow dung.

Earlier today, I woke up with a start when my phone rang ceaselessly from an unknown number. Sarika sounded frantic on the other end of the phone when I grew tired of the sound and eventually answered, "Amar, I forgot to get my phone. I put it on charging when the battery burned out. Could you please get it for me here. I'm at the joggers' park. By the way, this is Uday's number."

"Sar, it's a Sunday! I want to sleep in. I think you can survive a couple of hours without your phone," I said while preparing to hang up.

"Amar, I need my phone. I have this latest kick ass recipe that I tried out with organic stuff and Komal here wants it. Now don't be a whiny kid, and get me my phone. Besides, it's a lovely day, and you should walk. Good for health. Come on."

"Stop with the yapping woman, I'm on my way," I said in irritation, already deflated with the prospect of walking around the park. So I did the only sensible thing I knew, I put the phone down and went back to sleep.

But Sarika knew me too well. She was relentless in calling me again and again until I conceded. I got my morning chores out of the way, changed and went to the park.

I must say, Sarika looked ravishing in her fitting track suit that accentuated every curve of her toned body. Uday was in his workout gear too and looked like a model out of a men's magazine, and of course Komal's a fine piece of a woman. The three made a prefect ménage à trois, if I didn't know any better.

I was an anomaly there with a beer belly, slightly balding, grey hair, chubby cheeks with a double chin and cigarette breathe. I could blame it on my work life or cigarettes, or the weekend booze parties with my colleagues, or plain laziness to not to include regular workouts. Nevertheless, it has been a long time since I sported a 'dad bod' from my once 'dis-bod' physique.

I was married to Sarika when I had the 'model-like' physique. She was happiest that day and kept tracing my biceps with her delicate finger tips. She gazed fondly at the exposed V at the base of my throat, and at every opportunity pecked my sharp cheeks. We have been married for fifteen years, and for a long time everything was energetic, vigorous,rarely on bed, and often against any available surface. 

But now we argued, a LOT, with the same vigour and energy. We have chosen other channels to express ourselves, I guess.

Once upon a time, we were the golden couple, and thought kids would complete us. But couldn't have them. We got tested, and I'm at a disadvantage. I lost it! I lost the will to maintain a 'dis-bod'. I couldn't even father kids. What was the use of all the bulging muscles?

Sarika wouldn't agree. She thought it was all the more reason to maintain health since we had no one else to rely upon, in our dotage.  Dotage! What the fuck? As if we are one step into the grave.

But she kept up her figure. She'd explain it in detail for people who asked. She loved workouts, eating in measured quantities and sometimes not eating at all – "Detox" she claimed.

I sighed in resignation, badly in need of a smoke.

"Hey buddy! Want to join us?" Uday asked bringing me out of my musings.