Karate Kids

When we were growing my parents relied on the public awareness that fitness and exercise was extremely essential for a child's good health. A good way for this was to introduce kids to sports or games.

Most of us would play (what else!) cricket in the playgrounds.

Or sometimes soccer.

Yet parents often felt cricket was a waste of time and was hard to succeed in.

They also felt cricket was a slow game

Bypassing all the other myriad Olympic sports that our colony had to offer, they somehow landed on the rather illogical decision that the sport that brought the child maximum strength and fitness was martial arts.

And so, I too was asked to join Karate class.

God! how I hated this!

Twice a week (including Sundays) we had to wear that white karate uniform and go to some school or hall where some moustached monster would teach us how to break bricks and twist every conceivable organ our body had in the hope of adorning a different coloured belt on our enormously fragile waistlines.

When I was in primary school I obediently joined the class because my parents asked me to.

The instructor would make us do exercises in the beginning.

One of them involved holding your hip and shaking your right toes to the count of 1-2-3-4-5 even as you had to look upwards at the ceiling and watch two mosquitoes mating with elan.

Then we had to run.

Take rounds of the school.

And as onlookers outside saw us slog like losers, we felt the equivalent of slavery.

One of the excercise involved sleeping on the floor and waiting till the instructor came and stepped on ur stomach. Ouch!

It was supposed to increase our stomach muscle. What a farce!

The girls would be spared from this ordeal. Thankfully.

After more wretched exercises we were split into groups where a junior instructor (a fellow who had joined the class few years earlier) would teach us karate steps. And we had to shout "kyaaaaaaaih" each time we punched the air as if we were simulating Aamir Khan in Gajini. 

The junior instructors would love to teach the girls - holding their hands and feet and coaching them to get the step correct. Such bliss!

Some of these junior instructors acted like poor cousins of Jackie Chan.

Little minds like me were clueless.

All I would be thinking was about the game of cricket or soccer that my other friends were playing.

What torture this Karate!!!

Wish I had spoken up and told my parents "i dont want to go"

I did.

The verdict was that I was being lazy.

Then one day the head instructor announced a Karate summer camp to the nearby Alibaug beach.

We were to leave on a Sunday morning and return that evening.

I was least interested.

Until I got to know that there would be free breakfast, lunch and snacks.

Almost 20 years later the only thing i remember from that camp was eating those bread rolls laced with jam and that awesome lunch on the beach.

And yeah..i remember shouting "kyaaiaaaaah" in the sand - guess I was shouting for chole bature.

A few years later my sister was also made to join the classes.

I have no idea if she enjoyed it or not. I think she didnt. She was more into the creative arts.

But she would come along with me.

The one sweet moment I remember very well though was our walk back home after the Sunday classes.

She was small.

And I had to escort her back home which was about a kilometer away.

We would walk on the sidewalk.

Telling stories to each other.

Joking and having fun, even as we were pissed off and tired by the crazy karate class.

I would guard her from the traffic on the roads.

There were no mobile phones then so the only way parents would know where we were was when we got home.

Once in a while we would feel thirsty.

And we would amble into a nearby Army canteen.

We didnt carry any money then.

But we would go to the tables and drink water when no one was looking.

I drank first. Made sure it was good.

Then I allowed my sister to drink.

I would never imagine doing that today given the large scale pollution and contamination of water today.

Then we would walk back home.

And when we got home..we would love staying in our karate uniforms.

Most of the times we would just sit and watch cartoons till mom would come and scold us to change.

I left Karate class in 6th standard when we moved to Vizag.

Unfortunately I was forced to join again in Class 8.

This time i was more in love with cricket.

So i would cheat the instructor and skip karate classes and play cricket/soccer.

I still had to attend karate class as my parents had paid the class fees (without even asking me)

My sister was lucky to be spared. She went onto attend Bharatanatyam classes.

Progress in karate was by belts.

You started with white.

Then moved to yellow..orange...and other colors of the rainbow.

Before you ended with a black belt!

Some guys were super serious about Karate.

One of the guys I knew went onto get a black belt and participated in the nationals.

For me though..I just wanted more colors.

I remember getting a purple belt and coming home proud.

I eventually ended at a brown belt.

But thats because I had been stuck at green for a while and I had told the instructor that he had to give me a brown belt else I would go to court.

Occasionally the instructor conducted tournaments.

And on a pretty big scale.

He called it Regional Level Championships (LOL!!)

The funny thing here was that we had to actually fight people.

I would much rather fight boys by matching wits on the cricket field or soccer pitch, or even the tennis or badminton courts.

But here I was fist-fighting in a quarterfinal with another guy.

The referee said "#@#%#$^#$^#@#%@#@@#$@#$@ Azmi" (he mumbled something in japanese!)

And I was looking at this other guy dressed in karate clothes.

I saw his belt. He was an orange belt.

I was a purple belt.

The seniority of the belts demanded that I command all the respect.

This guy came charging down at me.

I just moved.

He fell down.

I bent down and pointed my fist towards him and shouted "Kyaaaaiaah" - an action signifying that I had grounded him (one of the junior instructors had told me this tip)

Referee said "stop"

And declared me the winner.

I repeated the same in the semi-final and final and lo - I was the Regional Karate Champion!

Rofl!