We were staying at a little-known hotel on one of the lesser known beaches, during the definite non-tourist season of Phuket. Thanks to my early training in Economics, I realized that the weather, on an average, was very good - it would rain one day and be blazing hot and humid the next. Actually to be fair, for two of the five days, it was actually pleasant for major parts of the day with the threat of rain, a pleasant breeze and no sun.
There was a small place right across the small street from our hotel called 'Leelawadi Thai Massage'. It was a room about thirty feet long and fifteen wide, with a bathroom at the far left corner. Inside, along the wall on one side of the room were five chairs that would recline a fair bit and where one could get a foot massage and along the other side were five beds separated by pull around curtains - the sort you have around hospital beds which make the beds sort of private, except these were in a rather cheerful print.
There were three ladies in the massage place and they followed a pattern of communication similar to the one followed in most places in the small enclave we were staying in: one member of the establishment communicated with all customers. Any questions directed to any other individual representing the establishment were directed to this individual to answer. This was the policy followed by the hotel we stayed in, the restaurants we ate in, the tour operator we booked with and also this massage establishment. Initially I thought it was due to possibly fewer English speaking people. This theory of mine was disproved at the hotel at which we were staying, once when the regular question taker was missing, the deputy effortlessly stepped into the breach.
My wife, who is the family expert on the subject of spas and massages, tried the place first and recommended a Thai massage.
You'll come back wonderfully relaxed and all your joints will be loose and free.
"Hard or medium?" The lady there asked me upon hearing my request.
"Hard." More value for money was the thought that prompted this reply.
The lady asking the question got up with a weary smile. She was short and stocky - like the Tommy stout who pulled the cat out of the well - and she looked strong, a bit like a professional wrestler.
She gave me a pair of shorts to change into and directed me to lie down on one of the beds.
She started with the legs. The only communication she did from now on were a series of clucks in varying pitches.
One thing was evident. She did not like the way God had screwed my legs in. She tried to solve the problem by wrenching my left leg out at the hip.
God might not have screwed it in right, but He had screwed it in tight. Still, I couldn't fault her for effort.
A few cracks and creaks later she started on the other leg. It was a beginning, though her clucks were far from happy. I mentally thanked God for good handiwork. If she had her way she would retain one or both of my legs for a day or two for maintenance.
She gave me five seconds to breathe and did a light jig on my legs. Since the wrenching was not wholly successful, she tried re-screwing them. I came to the realization that had I crossed her path early in life, career avenues in the contortionist line might have been open to me:
PJ the Fluid Wonder - Pack him in a box, pour him in a glass.
The activity thus far was apparently just the warm up (for her) and stretching (for me). Next she proceeded to unleash the full fury of her talent on me.
She put me in a figure-four leglock. I always thought that 90% of the professional wrestling shown on TV was play-acting. Not true. I hung in there, biting my lip and resisting the urge to tap out. After three seconds I gave in and tapped the bed once, twice, thrice.
She chuckled. Apparently in a massage one cannot tap out.
Her signature move was the drop-elbow slam. I couldn't actually see if she climbed up anywhere, but I did get a few elbows in my back. She was pretty accurate. She hit a sore spot every time. The series of well directed slams was followed by another jig on my back. No, this time I think it was a reel. She then tried to figure out if my ribcage could serve as a possible diving board. A few disappointed clucks later she got off.
Now it was back and arm time.
She went in for another submission move - a variant of the backbreaker - pulling both my arms out behind me with her knee to my back. There was a small fusillade from my back and I think I gained an inch or two in height.
"You paining?" She asked me. I was glad for the communication to finally move into a realm I readily understood from the Morse code of clicks and clucks she had been so intent on pursuing previously.
"Y e s." I managed to croak.
"No Pain. No Gain." She told me rather smugly.
She was carrying on the good work that the Inquisitors had started in the fifteenth century, only this time I had no idea what I needed to repent for.
It was simple. If there was a joint, she cracked it. If it didn't crack, she worked it till it buggered well did crack. The only joints saved from this treatment were my cranial sutures.
When it came to my neck, I said my prayers and prepared to meet my maker. There was only one way this ended and I had seen it innumerable times in Bruce Lee movies. She followed exactly the same technique (with, of course, the EEEEIIYYAAAAH replaced by a cluck) and elicited the same series of fatal cracks.
But I was still aware of my surroundings.
I pinched my arm.
And alive.
I wiggled my toes.
And still had use of legs.
I was unscathed.
I had walked the bridge to the other side and come back to tell the tale.
This apparently was the finale. She let me go. I gratefully paid the money and made a quick getaway lest she forget that she hadn't demonstrated the sharpshooter or the piledriver or a drop-kick.
And yes, it did make me limber. For the next couple of days, I could scratch all the way down from my shoulder blade to the small of my back in one fluid motion.
3 comments:
brilliantly hilarious as always !
You clearly haven't lost your sense of humor in spite of marriage and kids ;-)
Or maybe I have regained it due to the same ;-)
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