Chronicles of Chiropractor

As mentioned painfully in the last post I was tormented with agonising spinal pain. It was like a devil that danced around me swaying its poky tail and hitting me with it spines on my spine! The torture was upsurging with the pace that it reminded me of many No Balls Shoaib Akhtar throws incessantly and curses as if he has no clue of its mechanism. Worst of all this torture time was the banging I had in my head all the time. I felt like taking a big hammer and crush my cranium bang bang -bang bang just like some judge said ‘order order’ in a ghatiya (inferior) B- grade hindi low budget movie.

I had to force my jarring soul to prepare itself for a tiring a la Republic Day like rehearsal at office for a whole week. The torture wasn’t ameliorating with the heaps of documentation lying at my desk. I was not even able to lift a sheaf of paper. I relented to the trauma and asked for forgiveness but the devil was enjoying capturing my active body and was parasiting on my giggly prerogative.   The partner decided it was time to see a specialist. I knew he was right as my chirpiness was as dead as news that surrounded likes of daily dosage of ‘rapes’, ‘murders’, ‘kidnapping’, ‘extortion’ or very common ‘bomb blasts’.

Well atlast there I was- waiting for the elevator to take me to the magical kingdom of ‘City Chiropractor‘-a kingdom that has chronicles dedicated to mend chronic disorders! The elevator opened and I had no clue whether the kingdom held any potions to cure my diabolic twinge. The receptionist looked at me with a beaming smile that made me annoy and twitch my fingers deeper inside the palm fearing that my destiny might take an ambushed course, courtesy the scratchy hand lines. My fate was ruining at the threshold of her angelic constance. I followed erstwhile Gandhian turned modern Munnabhai effort to forgive her for I knew just like Jesus that she didn’t knew what she did to me. I waited for my charmer to appear and treat my chronics from knowledge learnt from high mountains of the Himalayas or deep jungles of Africa (interestingly not related to any of the two). The charmer appeared out of a white mystic door and smiled. Two atrocitic smiles at random. I decided to follow his altruistic silhouette and submitted my agony to him. The master’s chamber was commodious enough to welcome thousands of pilgrims like me. But there were none and I sighed in relief as -I like people not crowd. He touched my shoulders to assess the alignment and I remembered my tailors back in India who surely made my life a living nightmare by never giving my clothes on time. The measurement moved from my shoulder to the neck and I for a jiffy felt as a damsel in distress captured by the goon. I was about to scream loud -’bachao‘ (Save) when he again shifted his focus to my back. His examination was done and he took out a pale white form and started scribbling the tale of my torture on it. He started asking me about my medical history which reminded me to take care of my sugar intake. The interview session was tedious and I was tired of playing it as it was as boring as the third season of Kaun Banega Crorepati especially when I knew there was no Crore to be won!

Well the examination was over and he asked me to lie on my back on a THING which can’t be actually called as a bed nor a sofa nor a couch nor a chair. But as I have to name it I’ve decided to christen it as a bedcoch(bed+couch+chair). So there I was trying to feel comfortable on the bedcoch when he came and gave me a big blow on the back, quickly on the shoulder and a fast twist to my angelic face-right and then left. THUD CRRREEEK CRACK CRACKKK CROOOM KKKKAAAAAARRRAAAK. I couldn’t believe the strange background scary sounds coming from my bones. And it was done!

The partner swiped his credit card for a not so cool two hundred dollars for a wrestling session- a session where I didn’t even got a chance to punch back??????????????????? How rude and unfair? And to the heights of it the opponent whom I seeked as a charmer asked me to come for four weeks and three sessions (read WWF) per week.

I gave up and have by now completed my first week. The trauma is receding like Salman’s hairline and I am getting back to my prerogative. The stiffness and frozen tinge is going away but it slightly comes back when I have to loose my purse strings after every fight! Duh guess what- who wrote the wrong saying- you win some you lose some? It’s a LOSS-LOSS situation for me – I lose inside the fighting ring and outside the ring at the mercy of beaming receptionist while she swipes the magnetic card taking away my hard earned Queen Elizabeths for what- a hit on my back?

IRONICAL – Ain’t it?