Bad Air Day

Since I live in one of the most polluted cities in the world, a suggestion for a sitting at an 8216;Oxygen Bar8217; sounded irresistible t...

Since I live in one of the most polluted cities in the world, a suggestion for a sitting at an 8216;Oxygen Bar8217; sounded irresistible to say the least.

I reached Oxygym in South Delhi8217;s GKII, thoroughly disregarding the blanket of dust that had enveloped the city for about a week, choking nearly every lung in town. I walked in eagerly, visualising gigantic colour cylinders with bright masks in a room filled with glass walls and greenery all around8212;maybe, even some soulful music.

Proceeding towards the basement on the instructions of an Oxygym staffer, I heard faint traces of a violent techno track from behind a door that opened up to the gym. No soulful music this, I thought as my dream of a peaceful, pure half hour steadily shattered. I could already feel my enthusiasm plummet.

The room I was led to was white-walled, small and silent. And, horror of horrors, there was also a hospital bed next to the cylinder equipment. 8220;This is not an oxygen bar! This is an execution table,8217;8217; I shrieked, unable to come to terms with this alien picture.

8216;8216;Please lie down madam, it8217;s going to be a beautiful experience. It8217;s like going to a hill station or taking an early morning walk,8217;8217; promised the attendant. Looking at my acne-scarred skin, he added, 8216;8216;It will also clear your skin and make you live longer!8217;8217;

He then briefed me about how they would mix rose water and filter water in the cylinder and filter out all the poisonous gases. I, he added, would soon be breathing 95 per cent pure, unadulterated oxygen.

I was a little more convinced now, and decided to give him the benefit of doubt, though I8217;d already started feeling claustrophobic inside the room that was lit by a lone tube and barely managed to fit two people.

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The attendant put two plastic pipes into my nostrils and asked me to close my eyes and relax. 8220;It will take 15-20 minutes,8217;8217; he said as he left the room. I tried to rosily picture mountains and a rising sun, but couldn8217;t hold the picture for long. I knew I was sitting cramped in a tiny chamber, and wondered whether the extra large mirror adjoining the bed was there to make the room appear larger or remind me of my plight: I looked like a hospital patient.

Just then I began to feel air enter my nostrils. While it was a little awkward, it also induced a very sterile feeling. Getting fidgety, I began to play with the pipes only to spot a cautionary sign on the machine announcing: 8216;Risk of Electric Shock and Fire.8217;

I hurried to get the pipes out of my nose as the attendant ran in to check what the problem was. I told him I had had my fill and felt very healthy. Happy with my response, he suggested, 8216;8216;Madam, you need to do it once a week to really feel the difference.8217;8217; I ignored the man and walked towards the door.

Once outside, as the dusty wind blew past my face, I sighed with relief.

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Rs 200 for 20 minutes of an alien feeling didn8217;t seem right. I wasn8217;t happy inhaling Delhi8217;s 20 per cent pure oxygen, but I8217;d rather take a trip to the mountains or watch the sun rise on an early morning walk.