So, I was walking at the beach this morning. There was the soothing sound of waves, gentle fresh air to breathe as I stepped out of my apartment hole. And plenty of space for a nice walk. Then I see this guy—a man in his mid-40s, with jogging shoes and even a designer tracksuit.
He’s sitting for over an hour—yes, sitting on one of those beach benches—while senior citizens walked and even jogged past him. This guy, meanwhile, was rotating his wrists like he’s mixing curry powder in sambar. And then he shocked me further, starting a strange, gentle breath exercise—one nostril closed, then the other—wearing a very serious ‘see, I’m doing my daily exercise’ expression.
But mostly, he was just sitting there.
Now, if you’re sick, met with an accident, or a centenarian—fine, sit and breathe. But this one? Not any wrinkle of pain or age on his face. No limp or braces. When he finally stood up, he swiftly walked to his car and was off. Perhaps he came to the beach merely to showcase his car. Yes, he was that swift! The man had speed, but only in his car, not in himself.
But even the fast driving credit goes only to the car driver, who had been patiently waiting in the car the whole time. Imagine how life feels if you were paid to sit there, while your boss is at the beach doing wrist rotations and one-nostril breathing. That’s not a car driver’s job, that’s a front-row seat to comedy.
Meanwhile, on the eve of Independence Day in India, people were running around the beach, busy setting up flags and preparing for the next day’s celebrations. The beach was full of energy and purpose. But our man perhaps thought it was International Sloth Day.
Yes, It’s none of my business—maybe he was just there to enjoy the view.
But here’s what I have to say: Happy Independence Day in advance to all my Indian fellow mates. Let’s mark this occasion not just as freedom from colonialism, but as freedom from laziness, inactivity, addictions, and procrastination. And yes—freedom from terrorism, whether terror in Kashmir or in our own habits.
Beach rule: If you are not sick, diseased, or deceased—please take that walk. Don’t make me laugh so hard I need my own one-nostril yoga.
Freedom is best celebrated on your feet when you are still alive, not on a park bench, that, too, at the beach on a fine morning, when people are walking spiritedly, and you, too, I believe, have come well equipped: shoes, tracksuit, etc.
So, why so gloomy? What’s stopping you from taking that walk?
