Free The Smoke is Rising by Mahesh Rao Page B

consequence of the city’s many yoga schools. For Faiza Jaleel, it was oxygen. As sole occupant of the lifestyle desk at the
Mysore Evening Sentinel
, her articles drew on the wispiest of details and then puffed out information and advice, steeped in the earnest vernacular of slimming. New gyms seemed to be springing up in Mysore practically every day. Dieting clubs had begun to make inroads into suburban kitchens. The new Dhamaka health club in Mahalakshmi Gardens claimed to have a formidable waiting list. Boxercise and jazzercise groups were convening on roof terraces, first floors of office blocks and in community halls. The readers of the
Mysore Evening Sentinel
were assured that Faiza would catalogue every fad and fancy.
    In one poignant interview, Mrs Jethmalani of Jayalakshmipuram explained the difficulties she faced.
    ‘It is true that these days temptations are very strong, but I think the real problem is in my genes,’ she confessed to Faiza.
    ‘In my genes and in my jeans,’ she giggled, a second later.
    It was lucky that Mrs Jethmalani was of a jolly disposition. She had joined her local laughing club, having heard impressive accounts of its health benefits. The club founder had assured her that with a positive attitude and the strong abdominal muscles engendered by communal hilarity, the pounds would simply fall off. Faiza had nodded sympathetically, switched her recorder off and returned to work.
    Carbohydrates continued to get a bad press and a pall of dejection settled over a city of rice-eaters. The coconut selleroutside Sheethal Talkies had begun to sell body-building supplements along with hashish and pirated DVDs. In Kuvempunagar and Gokulam, the Keralite Ayurvedic centres were offering consultations and massages to counter disproportionate weight gain. The enterprising general manager of Sri Venkatesh Traders had managed to procure several consignments of grapefruit essential oil after hearing about its virtues as an appetite suppressant.
    Guests at parties and wedding receptions collared Faiza, eager to discuss the merits of burdock root in increasing metabolism. Stealing a look at her plate as she circulated, they would outline the ingredients of the latest miracle remedy for corpulence and describe the craze for veil-dancing or Zumba-
Natyam
routines. Faiza serenely absorbed the new intelligence while noting the relative girth of prominent socialites; she had an idea for a column called ‘Society Snacking Secrets’.
    At a diabetes fundraiser, Faiza had spotted Leena Lambha, a well-known item girl. Leena was currently the face and body of a company that manufactured plug-in belts guaranteeing a toned midriff through a patented thermodynamic system. Leena had been charming and candid. Nothing she had ever tried had been as successful as the toning belt.
    Some of the seriously well-heeled had of course taken their cues from their intimates in Mumbai and Delhi, returning from foreign jaunts with a new litheness on show. Tummy tucks and gastric bands were expensive, especially when rates were converted into rupees; deluxe maintenance, however, always came at a price. Faiza had arranged to meet a dentist who was known to administer Botox injections, the only high-profile medical professional in the city to do so. Encouraging him to say anything interesting on the record was proving difficult but Faiza was indefatigable.
    Nutritionist husband and wife team, Valmiki and Vanitha Govind, had seized the day. Their second book on the perfectly balancedIndian diet had hit the shelves. Radio interviews, a lecture tour, cooking demonstrations in shopping malls and a column in a women’s weekly had all followed. There was a rumour that the couple were in talks with both ETV and Suvarna, their televisual potential not having gone unnoticed. Not surprisingly, Faiza’s calls to their office no longer yielded a ready response.
    Faiza did not take these matters to heart. There was more than enough vitality in