Merry Men of Lokhandwala

Life isn’t all Ha Ha Ho Ho for members of the laughter club at Lokhandwala Garden No 4. It’s a lot more. It’s all about shooting the breeze, playing the fool, poking fun at one another and of course, clearing the lungs.
For this motley group of senior citizens who gather here at the crack of dawn, it is also about sharing their health concerns, articulating their fears and aspirations and celebrating their joys and achievements. Above all, this is their chance to relive their youth.
“Ours is an extended family,” says Yusuf E. Rassiwala, a senior member of the club. “We welcome everybody here with open arms, irrespective of age, gender, community or class. There is no entry fee. True, as in every family, we have a few odd balls. But by and large, we have stuck together through thick and thin.”
“It is all about bonding,” adds S.V.Arora, another senior member, otherwise known as principal of the club. “Where else will you find such committed members? Being here every morning, come rain or sunshine, is more than a habit for us. It is an addiction.”
Little wonder, while most laughter clubs in the area last barely a year, this one has been going from strength to strength. Set up in 2003 by Madanmohan Pushkarna, it commands a formidable roster of around 50 members and the reputation of being the most friendly, disciplined and yet, carefree club of Lokhandwala.
Surely, there is more to all this than meets the eye. As Hari Singh Shekhawat, the de facto boss of the club, points out, laughter is no laughing matter. “From time to time, we need to remind members about the health benefits of laughing lest they take things for granted or drop out,” he informs.
The laughter session involves a series of well-orchestrated guffaws, followed by a chorus of slow-and-fast titters, giggles, suppressed chuckles, forced exhalation from the lungs and finally, raising a full-throated growl akin to a war cry.
That’s not all. The group settles for a round of free-hand exercises, part-calisthenics part-yogic, but with hilarious allusions: Hai Mera Dil, Butterfly, Nach Baliye, Kissa Kursi Ka… This constitutes the most important part of the regimen. And then, with another boisterous session of full-bellied laughter, followed by suryanamaskar, the members simply melt into the park.
It goes to Shekhawat’s credit that this hour-long routine is not allowed to turn into either a forced ritual or a farce. For he is the man behind celebrating every member’s birthday, organizing out-of-town picnics and herding members to free health check-ups. At one point in 2009, he went about distributing every week, nutritional supplements received complimentary from a reputed pharmaceutical company.
“These activities have only increased a sense of belonging in every member,” observes Dilip Babani, a club regular. “For me, this place has become almost like a second home where I can let my hair down without bothering about the consequences. We are family.”
The feeling extends to members taking liberties, particularly at giving nick names to one another. If someone is called “Qutb Minar” for his height, another is addressed as “Topiwaley Pandurang Baba” and a third, “Khadoos Budda”. A burqa-clad lady, doused one day in attar, promptly earned the sobriquet, “Agarbatti”!
Surprisingly enough, many of the nicknames are given by the ladies in the group (who often outnumber the men on some mornings). But nobody dare ask why one gentleman is named “Teda Sher”, while another is called “Chhota Sher”. Women have their own reasons. To be fair to them though, their presence has a sobering effect on the group – be it with Nahi Khan or Razia taking the initiative in conducting the exercises, Santosh’s sense of punctuality and propriety or Sunita’s hurried waste-no-time attitude, Ramila’s insistence on discipline or Gita’s propensity to all things religious, not to mention her wisecracks and Nafisa’s natural sense of humour.
But through all the bonhomie, mischief and madness, there are times when despair and confusion get the better of the group. Some might wear the scars of domestic neglect and humiliation to the park. An ailing octogenarian may suddenly stop showing up. Someone would have to relocate – as Sitaram Hivarkar must, to a bigger house in another locality. Rane has returned after “counting the mango trees” in his village. Tara Chand is visiting his son in Delhi. The Gargs are touring the U.S. on vacation.
Indeed, life must go on.
Extracted from My Times, a pull-out of The Times of India, Mumbai, dated May 28, 2010