Sightless magic

         The Week, Manorama

Jonaita gushes about feet. She gushes about the elderly as well; especially about giving them foot rubs. "Parents do a lot for their children and they are so very tired at the end of it all. A foot rub is a very special, intimate and traditional way of thanking them," she says. "I started my centre just for senior citizens and most of my clients are on the older side." The sparkle in her eyes belies her 47 years.

Three months ago, Jonaita, or Jenny, as she prefers to be called, founded Metta Reflexology Foot Centre in Pali Village, Mumbai. Reflexology is the art of applying pressure to the feet and hands with specific hand techniques. It is based on a system of zones and reflex areas that reflect an image of the body on the feet and hands, with the belief that the pressure causes physical change in the body.

She started the centre with 7 of her 28 students from the National Association for the Blind, Mumbai, where she taught reflexology as a guest faculty. "At one point I went knocking on doors asking people to give them jobs," Jenny recalls. "All I got was pity and donation offers. What I wanted from them was the respect and dignity that comes with work. So we decided to start something together."

 


Unlike mainstream spas, Metta's most expensive piece of equipment is probably the massage table. More precious are the masseurs and masseuses. There are no 'massage PJs' to change into, the lubricant is local coconut oil, the sheets are simple cotton and three beds line an understated room.

My masseur, Balakrishnan, 20, is 80 per cent blind. He asked me to lie on my back and wiped my feet and calves with a damp towel. The oil was not heated but it hardly mattered as his fingers got to work. "Is the pressure okay, Madam?" he asked. I winced but endured, reminding myself that reflexology requires a lot of pressure to be applied at the right places. Fifteen minutes into the massage, the tightness around my head began to ease off. His fingers worked my sole and the stubborn knots in my calf until they relaxed.

"Madam, please turn on your front," was his next instruction. I obediently flipped over and a great pummelling of my back ensued. I was left sighing in comfort and had conveniently lost all will to exert myself. I was then treated to an arm rubdown followed by the most exquisite head massage that banished all traces of stress.

The no-frills mantra certainly pays off at an unbelievable Rs 300. "The rich have their spas and their salons and they can afford to pay a lot of money for a massage," reasons Jenny. "It's the not-so-rich who carry their own burdens and use public transport who need budget-friendly places for relaxation."

Metta is doing far better than Jenny expected. One of her masseurs has gone to his village to hand over his salary to his family. In the second month alone his pay grew from Rs 5,000 to Rs 8,000 thanks to Jenny's motto of sharing profits and tips equally. "I had no idea that we would be breaking even, forget about making profits. I didn't think we would last three months. Today I am considering getting more massage tables," she says.

Thais and Indians have very different reasons for paying homage to the foot. But at Metta, the worship of the lowest part of the human body has certainly put Jenny and her team on an all-time high.