Hell VIII

I stepped out of my cosy little shell of mediocrity bit by tiny bit. What began with the shopping spree was further further strengthened by the lust for comfort that entered my soul. Price,in more ways than one, no longer seemed to be an issue.

I enjoyed myself. I would be lying if I said that I didn't. I ate with abandon. My sweet tooth manifested itself with a righteousness that bordered on gluttony. I discovered the joys of Tiramisu, the fusion of cheesecake and the crunch of butterscotch, chocolate in myriad forms that belied the imagination. From eating penny pastries that were little more than shortbread smeared with commercial cream, I graduted to being a connoisseur of all things divinely sweet.

I kept up pretences, refusing to accept favors from anyone, refusing to loan even ten bucks as bus fare to a classmate, demanding prepayment for group photostats, etc citing empty pockets as a valid excuse when all the while I wouldn't step out with less than a thousand rupees in my pocket at any given time. But then hadn't I already begun to deceive myself?

Try as I did I could not conceal my new found prosperity for long. I had bought myself a new wardrobe and I proceeded to wear it with aplomb. My trusty old jeans were consigned to a space at the back of the wardrobe, my blue jacket I gave away to a beggar shivering with cold and I dressed myself in the colors of autumn leaves and winter foilage, bringing forth grudging appreciation from coworkers and batchmates alike.

Like Coco Chanel once said, if you look average people will fall over themselves trying to convince you otherwise, but if you are actually looking good, people will be too busy dying of jealousy to bother about letting you know how you look.

When my sweet tooth began showing up on my waist, I took my vanity another step further, I joined a state of the art Gymnasium. Counting calories, Dieting, Workouts, Jogging, Fat Burners, Protein Shakes - name it and I did it. The net result being that I left my old fairly fit self behind and in two months managed to sculpt my body into some kind of shape.

By then Winter had given way to Spring and life was about to dip down the moral slippery slope. With the advent of March and the festival of colors, life took on a hue that was neither black nor white. It was the color that truth cloaks itself in, that you see shining through a middle aged man's carefully blackened locks, that colors the rain clouds, that represents experience and wisdom, that is shunned as being dull, with a little bit of shine it turns into a precious metal - Grey.