Sweaters

The Sweaters Come Out

It is customary that my wife forces me into doing some form of exercise every evening. I try to tell her that I am a tired, spent force after a hard day at work, but she laughs maniacally at that. And then I tell her that fat is good, what with Iraq and Lebanon and all that, if a World War breaks out, and a bomb explodes near me, my fat would cushion the impact. Also, in a famine, I will be able to live off the fat. After all, that was why God accessorized man with fat. But for some strange reason she is not attracted to this logic. So, we head out to the beach every evening. From being "microwave high" for many months, the Chennai weather has cooled down a little bit, especially in the afternoon. At the glorious Marina Beach, there is a pleasant sea breeze in the evenings. The temperature in the temperaturometer in my office shows 32 degrees centigrade (89 F). Life just became bearable.

OR SO I THOUGHT. As we were walking down the sidewalk, I saw a middle aged man wearing a Woolmark knitted turtleneck full sleeve sweater. He was walking toward me waving his hands about like crazy, scaring even the traffic cops. He was wearing a polyester blended pair of trousers that would've been part of a three piece suit in the sixties. He was also wearing flip flops. I veered my wife away from this kink-in-nature in the nick of time, to see another rotund gentleman in a grey sweater. In sheer terror, I looked around and spotted atleast five more sweaters. Remember, my trusted temperaturometer showed 32 degrees centigrade when we left home. There is a relative of mine who has walked the Marina Beach for centuries wearing sweaters. He says that they wear sweaters, not because it is cold out there, but because there is a chill in the wind. For the love of God, I can't detect that chill, there's just the smell. Just looking at these sweatered creatures makes me sweat.

All right. The sweaters are out. I need to mentally prepare myself for that spectacle from now. The "monkey caps" will come out in December, when the temperature will drop to a Siberean low of 20 degrees C.