A Weighty Problem

The sleepy eyed man wrinkled his nose in disbelief; who wouldn’t, if he was woken up at an ungodly hour of five on a cold winter morning by a rookie looking like a scarecrow and demanding of all things in the world, a dozen bananas?

That’s right!  A dozen bananas at five in the morning!  I was the rookie who desperately wanted those dozen or so bananas.  It all began a day before when I got a letter informing me to attend a medical test for the post of apprentice in a big public sector undertaking.  Getting a job that too in a PSU (Public Sector Undertaking) was a dream of every middle class family in the 70s and mine was no different.  While my family members were thrilled, my elder brother drew my attention to the last column in the call letter; the applicant must weigh a minimum of 50 kilos said the call letter.  I barely touched 48 in my socks!

When I explained my predicament, help poured from all corners in the form of advice; ‘drink honey in cold milk’, ‘soak channa water overnight and eat early in the morning’ etc.  But no one understood my urgency.  I wanted to increase my weight at least by two kilos within a day!

Sensing the exigency, an acquaintance of my elder brother told me that by eating a dozen or so bananas weight will definitely increase by 2 kilos.  So, here I was desperately trying to convince the shop keeper to part with a dozen bananas on a cold winter morning.  While I used all my persuasive skills to get the man to open his shop, time was running out.  The medical examinations was to start at 5.30 in the morning and as per advice, I had to eat the bananas just before the examination.

 

Finally, the man handed over a dozen bananas and penalised me by chagrining exorbitant price for the same.  I was in no mood to look at the price tag; I just started swallowing the bananas one by one, even as the shopkeeper looked in bewilderment.  By the time I reached for the sixth one, I felt like throwing up. But somehow, I managed to squeeze two more and rode my bicycle to the factory.

After carefully examining me, the bespectacled doctor ordered me to stand up on the weighting machine.  Hesitantly, I stood and peered at the needle; the needle moved ever so slowly and stood, believe it or not at 49! The doctor shook his head and dismissed me.  Needless to say, I was disqualified from joining the cherished job.

If you are wondering why I am narrating an incident after so many years, let me assure you that there are two good reasons for it. 

Recently, I read in the newspapers that the PSU, which I so desperately wanted to join, is being closed on account of piling up of losses.  Second? The other day, I routinely checked my weight and lo and behold!  The needle stood exactly at 50; mind you, this time without the help of bananas!