Man on Fire

8. World Record Number 2: 1,448 stomach sit-ups in one hour (1999)

In the days after my maiden World Record of groin-kicking feat I made a solemn promise to my wife that my thirst for extreme activity was satisfied and I would return to everyday life with no regret. She was worried for my health and it is every husband’s primary duty to respect the concerns of his wife and conduct himself accordingly. However I found myself gripped by a powerful determination to follow up my first achievement with even greater success. Despite much introspecting I could find no competing argument strong enough to topple this wish from central role in my imagination. I was hooked.

This is inevitable consequence of becoming a World Record breaker: when you beat the odds like I did and reach the top of the mountain you do not want to climb down again. You have the taste of the rarest kind of air in your lungs and it does not seem practical to suck on the dusty air of lower regions again. Also there was some frustration biting at the back of my mind: while kind people at Limca had been gracious in certifying my groin-kicking record, I could not call myself a true topper until I had gained recognition in the Guinness Book of World Records. This book enjoys renown second to none around the globe, and it is every extreme sportsman’s goal to be included in their family. Therefore immediately after blood had passed from my urine and swelling went down around genital region I set about to find a record they would support.

My wife was quite shocked by my decision. She asked who would fill the family’s bellies if a disaster fell and I was snatched from her.

Shubham’s small fingers were resting on his mother’s shoulder, with fingernails in place and wrinkled knuckles, and a deep sadness burrowed in my heart that my wife should not believe my ability to make all good things come true for us. I took the child from her and held him tight. He had the weight of a feather only and I told him that I was the stone wall that stood before all winds that came to carry him away.

‘Not to worry,’ I assured my wife. ‘No harm will occur. I breathe the air of mountains now and my protection is assured. I will do this to honour you and the child. A Guinness World Record will put us on the map. It will secure our future in bright sunshine. It is the path the almighty has picked for me and I must walk it with high head.’

My wife was convinced by my decisive manner and by my pledge to purchase new country-made A/C unit for our home when success was in the bag (you may see the proof of this on the wall in my bedroom, still running smoothly to this day some ten years later. I owe its long life to use sparingly only when heat is at its fiercest height — this is better all round, for pockets and for bodily function).

I declared my intentions to the Guinness people soon after. I chose for my next attempt stomach sit-ups because a Guinness record already existed in this area, therefore my effort was certain to be ratified. Also I was already in the habit of performing one thousand sit-ups per day as part of my usual fitness regime so I knew it would prove no problem for me to overtake the previous number. Actually, it was a match made in heaven. Nothing could go wrong.

The event took place in the main hall of the Navi Mumbai Sports Association, which is my local training facility being only a short drive from my home in Airoli. I come to practise gymnastics in surrounding gardens and I am still holding my regular karate classes here having built up my enterprise from scratch. I have many students who have stuck with me through thick and thin, of all ages and abilities but with same common goal of excellence and improvement through dedicated training. The place was full to capacity with my loyal students, co-workers and other well-wishers who had been alerted to the event by the word of mouth Rajesh Battacharjee had flung far and wide. Despite my giving up my job with his company to take on full-time journalist role he remained a true supporter, informing his important friends in the Corporation of Navi Mumbai that I possessed untapped skills which merited wider appreciation. Several new faces were mingled among the crowd and it was lovely to feel such generous backing from the big brass of my city as well as the common man to whom all my successes are dedicated.

My wife also was there from the start, having chosen the A/C unit she preferred and also bearing no unwieldy concerns for my safety since I hit on the idea of sit-ups. She had witnessed me performing them in countless number and was satisfied that no dangers lay ahead. This attempt was a simple matter, no special considerations or additional helpers required. Just me and my stomach against the clock. Training had gone smoothly with last timed rehearsal producing number of 1,389 which was only six shy of the existing record. Only slight tenderness in upper abdominal region throughout later stages of training period but this did not cause alarm.

This time Vijay Five captured the footage as Amrit Battacharjee, brother of Ramesh, was by now completely blind. I met Vijay Five when I began working for the Times of India, which is the biggest circulation English-language newspaper in the world. He is a fellow reporter there covering political beat. He quickly became the fifth Vijay to join my karate class after I recommended the martial arts to him as best source of health and fitness and inner calm.

The story of my introduction to the journalism profession is a great example of God’s bounty falling into the arms when they are outstretched and ready to receive. Really it was a wonderful thing to happen unexpectedly and I will briefly tell you how it came about. You will remember that I was required to give Limca a newspaper cutting before they would recognise my first record: the fellow from local newspaper who helped me opened the door to the journalism profession for me. He asked me to write what I wanted to be printed and seeing my write-up he offered me to contribute for his paper. That prompted me to take up the cause to help others with my involvement in the social activities as a journalist. Soon after I was offered the job from Times of India. I became a full-time journalist due to the apathetic approach of media which dumped many sportspersons like me. I took the cudgel to promote sporting talents through my write-ups. This mission is still ongoing to the present day.

Back to the attempt. After my usual period of meditation I was ready to begin in spirit of great optimism. My oldest student Gopal Dutta was again my counter. He wore his best linen bandhgala for the occasion, and no evidence of the tumour which would soon begin to pester him.

Before I took my position I cast an eye to the watching masses. Around sixty souls arranged on the pitched seating, already wilting under the heat which could not escape the room (I had instructed Valmik, the custodian, to leave the windows closed to aid the efficient performance of my muscles). All come to witness the next stage in my trajectory to extreme sports pioneer. I spied my wife in the front row holding Shubham, and her smile convinced me that all marital strife was behind us. I felt the expectations of the spectators and found them to be reasonable: I would not let them leave that place bearing disappointment. Instead I would send them back to their lives carrying treasured memories of a unique event in the history of our humble community.

I lay down in the starting position, flat on my back, and awaited with a clear mind the commencement of my allotted hour. Then at Gopal Dutta’s command I began the attempt.

Everything passed off without a hitch-up for first portion of the attempt as I romped to 1,000 sit-ups in just thirty minutes. I attacked each movement with high energy level: body up, body down, body up, body down, body up, body down like the rolling of a great locomotive down the track. I settled into a satisfying rhythm, listening to Gopal Dutta’s voice counting out my repetitions, breathing in each time my nose touched my knees and breathing out each time my head hit the floor again. Time passed very quickly. On every occasion that my head hit the concrete I knew I was one step closer to achieving my cherished goal of a Guinness World Record.

Then I felt losing strength at neck area after crossing 1,000 line. Something unplanned for had happened but at this moment I could not identify and I did not hold back from completing the attempt. I pushed forward but with slowdown in speed, owning to frequent bang of back of head on the concrete hard floor which was now causing some concern.

‘One minute!’ Gopal Dutta announced, and at this the crowd began to applaud my every repetitions. Their clapping gave the boost I needed to see out the final seconds. At the very moment that pain began to grow too big and fill my vision with blackness, Gopal Dutta called time and the audience raised the roof.

‘One thousand four hundred and forty-eight!’ Gopal Dutta declared, and I lay down in complete exhaustion. It was a very emotional response. I gave silent thanks to the almighty for allowing me this moment. Then my wife and son rushed to join me and I looked up at them through eyes swimming with tears of joy.

‘I did it!’ I said. ‘I am a Guinness man now!’ I pulled myself to a seated position so that I could accept their embraces. It was then that my wife’s eyes widened in alarm and all colour fell from her face. She dropped the child into Gopal Dutta’s arm like a hot stone.

‘Your head!’ she cried. ‘What have you done?’

I touched my fingers to the back of my head and removed hair and pool of blood from outer portion. I looked in turn at the faces of my friends and each one was marked with fearful panic.

‘It is okay, BB,’ Rajesh Battacharjee told me, his eyes fixed on the part of my person that I could not see. ‘I am sure it is nothing to worry about. Congratulations! You have done it!’ He lifted me to my feet and faced me to the onrushing crowd. ‘BB Nayak, Guinness World Record breaker! Son of Navi Mumbai, former employee of Everest Engineering, friend to the common man! Come!’

The crowd swallowed me and once again I was lifted onto their shoulders. They did not seem to notice my blood smearing their clothes as they carried me around the hall and out into the gardens. I reached out for my wife’s hand but she was too distant to take it.

I should tell you here that I do not believe in doctors. I have always known my own body better than any doctor: he will only take an X-ray of the broken bone but you must still wait in pain for the picture to come back. It is the inner energy of the person that will finally mend it. Speaking from the age of forty-one years, I have never in my life visited a doctor except for this one exceptional time. I have broken every part of myself in pursuit of my sport and on each occasion no lasting harm has followed — I have healed myself with complete satisfaction, using my own expertise to aid the physical recovery. Injury has become a routine now after so many years of training. My medicine is turmeric powder and milk as painkiller and great healer and if the fracture is serious then I do plastering/bandage on my own with conventional method. I have graduated with the experience how to handle trauma, agony and pain without bothering anyone here.

Therefore when next day I made the dash to hospital it was only to save my wife further worry. The continuous vibration in my head that had kept me awake throughout the night was just a temporary blockage before the solemn celebrations could begin presently.

The doctor at the hospital expressed grave concern when first he saw me. His expression prompted my wife to resume her weeping, which did little to restore my balance. At this stage I realised I could not walk unaided and I was compelled to be seated. ‘It is not as bad as it looks,’ I told her. ‘I have a small headache only.’ In truthfulness I was in some agony but I knew that in my new office of Guinness World Record holder I must keep at check my suffering to encourage those aspiring sportsmen who aim to follow in my footsteps. I was therefore quite ashamed when one moment later I was unable to stop myself from falling into small coma.

When I woke again I was fully on fire. The entire span of my body felt like it was ablaze. I opened my eyes to discover that I was confined to a strange bed. Upon feeling my head I noted a heavy bandage wrapped there. I tried to lift my head but it was very uncomfortable position. When I moved even in a small degree a great wave of pain broke over me and I let out a cry. My wife came into my vision and I saw that her face was wet with tears. My son asleep in her arms was not aware of the anguish that infects the lives of the adults. Doctor stood beside my wife, and Rajesh Battacharjee, all wearing looks on their faces as if they too had woken from long slumber.

The doctor told me that I had received surgery to my brain: I had no recollection of this. The knowledge was quite surprising but I accepted it with steady nerves. He then conveyed to me that I had slept for three days. I was shocked by this because I did not feel suitably refreshed. Heaviness and pain only.

‘Do I still have the record?’ was my burning question. My own voice sounding many miles distant. This was of course my primary anxiety. Curse my luck if while I was sleeping the deep sleep a misfortune or technicality had stripped me of the record I won by rights. I did not wish all my hard work to slip by unnoticed.

‘Yes, BB, the record is yours,’ Rajesh Battacharjee assured me. ‘I have sent the documentation myself. We wait only for the Guinness people to ratify. This will come in a few weeks. You did it, my friend.’

I heaved a sigh of relief, and the pain subsided significantly. Then I had to listen to the doctor explaining to me my injuries. Not only had I sustained deep wounds to the entire back of my body from head to toe due to the friction performing such an unprecedented number of sit-ups had created, but the repeated striking of my head on the concrete floor had caused haemorrhage to my brain. These injuries could be easily explained by the lack of precautionary measure we had taken, as the event was new for everybody present on the occasion. It had not become obvious to us to install any sort of padding on the ground or that I should wear any kind of protective gear on my head: I prefer the natural way of doing things, and this is a principle that I must adhere to through thick and thin. Therefore I accepted my misfortune with a mild heart.

‘When can I leave?’ I asked the doctor.

‘You will require a long period of recovery,’ he told me. ‘We operated to alleviate the swelling to your brain but we must be on the lookout for further bleeding and complications. The wounds on your back are quite severe and there is a risk of infection. They will require rest and possibly skin grafts. It is a tricky road ahead for you but we will do our best to get you back to your previous level.’

Having no confidence in the treatment I might receive in the hospital, I promptly removed myself from there to complete my healing at home.

I remained bedridden for three months to recover from the pain and damaged skin. The complications that the doctor mentioned did not come calling but boredom and frustration was sorely felt. No certificate was arriving from Guinness due to unforeseen delay and not only was I unable to perform my usual duties and regular training but also was distracted by my wife’s constant requests to end extreme sports ambitions for ever. Once out of bed I did yoga, meditation and breathing routines to get it recovered. I lost 30–40 per cent memory power since that day. Even now if I do intense training related to the head I feel the pinch quite prominently. I spent some hard-earned money during the recovery, which was a tough time to handle with entire family depending on me. I had to face hurdle of losing quality time to earn wages which went blank.

It was during this testing time that Rajesh Battacharjee was on hand to keep my spirits high. I could not attend my work at the newspaper but he generously gave from his pocket to fill my family’s bellies and keep the roof over their heads. Also he visited my bedside on many occasions to remind me of the bond of obligation I had made between myself and my well-wishers.

‘I sense a great appetite for your message among the people,’ Rajesh Battacharjee conveyed to me. ‘They might not yet know it but I will introduce them. We can show them that simple spirit of hard work and humility can take anyone from the lowest depths of anonymity to national esteem and even worldwide fame. You could be a symbol for them. One day they might buy their dreams from you. I have the power to put you on the platform, BB. Just say the word and I will do this. This is only the beginning, you cannot give up yet. You will recover and then we will begin the next phase of our journey.’

I was impressed by his speech but I kept my thoughts to myself to preserve good feeling between myself and my wife. However she made no such effort to keep her feelings hidden.

‘I do not want him to be a symbol,’ she told Rajesh Battacharjee plainly. ‘I just want him to be alive. I want him to be a good husband to me and a good father to his son. That is all I pray for night and day.’

‘Your prayers will be answered, Bhabhi. But a good husband and father is one who provides an example for his dear ones to follow. BB’s example is more persuasive than most common men can give. He can inspire the world if only you allow him to follow his path. A good wife will not stand in the way of her husband’s destiny.’

She did not answer this with further words, but with lowered gaze which indicated that she was preparing to submit to the undeniable strength of Rajesh Battacharjee’s argument.

At the same moment I was trying to assemble in my mind ideas for my next record attempt. I knew that the next record must be something equally special or more so if I were to confirm for all time my place in long history of my country. I said these words to myself in forceful tone of determination: I am Bibhuti Bhushan Nayak of Cuttack, proud resident of Navi Mumbai, Limca World Record holder, Guinness World Record holder. I will share with the people my message of love through discipline, sports and vegetarian diet, and my achievements will be an inspiration to the common man and young generation alike.

Thank you.