Thirty years ago I spent six months in Jakarta, Indonesia, after writing my final school exam. It was the first long break from 13 years of schooling and I allowed myself to be thoroughly spoilt by my aunt, uncle and their three sons who never having had a sister more than ensured that I had a good time.

It was the first time I ate satay, one of the most common everyday foods available in homes, restaurants and every street corner in Indonesia. Satay is meat, fish or tofu pieces on skewers, grilled on charcoal and served with delicious peanut sauce, red chili and shallot. My aunt’s old cook would feed me with satay at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, my aunt had a small refrigerator — for chocolates only — sited in the living room. So satay and chocolates, I am ashamed to admit, formed my diet for six months.

With my aunt’s house equipped only with half mirrors, I was unaware that I had put on a lot of weight around my hips. On returning to Mumbai and examining myself in a full-length mirror I was shocked by the extra poundage I had acquired. I decided to immediately get back into shape. I didn’t like the way I looked — complacent and greedy, which indeed I had been for over six months.

With no knowledge of nutrition at that time, just by utilising my commonsense, I was back to being my trim self within a month or two. It was so quick that all the plump girls in class begged for my secret formula. Of course, staying away from the satay and chocolates was half the battle won. But having lived on nothing but spinach and rotis one summer on my father’s farm when the fridge had conked out, I was aware how easy it is to shed even the slightest bit of extra fat. I recall that at the time I felt so good and looked so terrific that I had never thought about also being healthy, it came naturally.

I’m sure like my friends in Mumbai, many of you who want to lose weight want specifics. But specifics don’t work in the long term because each person’s needs are different. If you have been reading this column carefully, you should have learned not only how to keep trim but to maintain excellent health as well. The one important ingredient is ‘intent’. If you desire it intently enough, it will be yours. Last month I wrote on how ‘intent’ will not allow you to make money if you encounter it with guilt. Money should be regarded as an instrument which enables you to be part of a web of interactions and is simply a means to go through life’s routines.

Losing weight is a simple matter if your intent is clear. I have said it before but it is worth repeating that unreasonable interest in food is the major cause of weight gain. Of course being overfed in childhood is a battle against too many fat cells, but even this disadvantage can be overcome with fierce determination and intent to get into shape.

The reason I never worry about weight gain is that my life does not revolve around food and I definitely don’t live to eat. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a good meal or gourmet delights. But, my life doesn’t revolve around breakfast, lunch and dinner. They merely happen while life is taking its course, simply to furbish the body with the energy to carry on its activities.

Now 30 years later I’m just back from Bali, Indonesia, the only place out of India that I wished to visit. The much-loved satay is not what it used to be. As it is, the case world over, the quality of the base ingredients has deteriorated to keep pace with increased demand. So most producers cut corners, never mind the health of consumers.

Bali, like Goa, is a state. It comprises many small towns and villages just as Goa. The similarity between the two is amazing. Bali is picturesque and artistic though the beaches are disappointing. And if you’ve driven past rice fields in Goa or lived overlooking one, as I do, then you’ll wonder why everyone in Bali makes such a big deal about viewing the rice fields of Ubud. But, the shops and eateries are fancier in Bali which boasts its art forms everywhere. Carvings, sculptures, paintings, bamboo weaves, flowers in every nook and corner. Each rooftop and the entrance of each home is embellished with artistic wood carvings. In Balinese there is no word for ‘artist’ because each person is an artist. Some sing, some dance, weave, paint, sculpt, if not during their working day then after work. That their entire way of life is aesthetic is evident all around.

On the beach even if women ask if you want a massage or try to sell you a sarong or a carving, the tone isn’t aggressive because their next meal does not depend on a sale. In the evening their men come on bikes and take them and their bundles of wares back home. Often they don’t seem to be looking for business, just happy to chat with one another, without being desperate to make their next buck.

This is so unlike the poor people from Karnataka on the beaches of Goa. I feel sorry that mainly because of the type of people we elect, we cannot ensure the very basics to our poor. Not that Indonesia has great governance but at least the bare minimum is not denied to its people. This was evident wherever one went. Talking to small shopkeepers, taxi drivers, waiters, beach masseurs — a feeling of content was obvious. Even in Colombo where I stopped on my way back, retailers are unwilling to keep their shops open late. Their time at home with their families is more important. And not a single toilet in Bali or Sri Lanka — even public lavatories — stank the way ours do. 

It’s tragic but true that in our economy of planned shortages, we have condemned the majority of citizens to stand forever in queues for water and public toilets. Where is the time for the creativity of such people to flow? Can they ever aspire to superior health when even two square meals are not guaranteed? 

 

(Kavita Mukhi is a Mumbai-based eco-nutritionist and CEO of Conscious Food)