Joe Six-Pack

When someone holds your tummy in their hands, and says your name in a tone that combines both disgust and awe, it's time to hit the gym.

The gym is apartheid at its finest, with puny mortals like me scraping up Mount Olympus, while toned Gods, idly flick rocks and beads of sweat at the scrambling masses. The air here reeks of jealousy and testosterone, as the have-nots flick looks at those benching their own body weight. Though the divisions between the 2 sides are firmly entrenched, you get the occasional sycophant. A Gollum like creature, scampering between the benches, collecting the sweat of the Muscular into a Nalgene bottle, revering it as he would an amphora of Ambrosia.

I'm working on my physique, and often time I catch myself daydreaming of the day when I shall bandy about medicines balls as though they were merely the testicles of Zeus. I imagine walking among the ranks of the buff, comparing the visibility of our veins and pinching each others flanks as though we were sizing up cattle.

For now, however, three more sets to go...

Sanju

Diplomacy

I don't remember too much of my time in kindergarten, it's all a big haze to me now. There are brief bits here and there that I can recall; making little papers ships and fighting over the Lego blocks, that sort of thing. Whenever class got over, the teacher used to make us sit outside, on on straw mat on the floor while we waited for the bus to arrive to take us home. I always used to sit next to this one curly haired kid with green eyes. We used to fashion little pieces of paper into tiny little guns, and play thief and policeman. We weren't allowed to move off the mat, so we just usually kept shooting each other as quick as we could and squabble over who would have died first. Finally, after a week or so, I finally decided to ask him for his name, and he replied "Salhi". Sahli means phlegm in Tamil. I burst out laughing and he asked me why. I didn't tell him, mainly because I didn't know the word phlegm at the time, and I had no clue how to explain it to him. He asked me everyday, and everyday I didn't reply. One day, I had a cold, and also a brainwave. I blew my nose into my hands, and held them out before him. "This is you", I said, as I gently wiped my hands on his shorts.

I lost a friend that day.

Sanju