Long before the Chinese unleashed their version of the Belt and Road initiative, men across India have had to deal with the consequences of the belt on the road. It is no exaggeration to say that their struggles with their belts match in degree if not in scale those of the many Sub-Saharan African nations reeling from the havoc wrought by the more recent Chinese idea of economic brotherhood.
The fault, though, lies not with the belt. The main culprit is the paunch, an ever-expanding part of the male anatomy that seems to grow in step with age. Show me the man who’s been able to stop the advances of either age or his waist and I will bow to him. Waist permitting, that is.
Even that wouldn’t be a problem on its own. After all, growth is the essence of life and what's a few more inches between friends.
The problem is the ever-expanding midriff plays havoc with the trousers. Indeed, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that after a point, trousers acquire a life of their own, refusing to stay in place, leading to the unassuming spectacle of middle-aged men constantly hitching up their pants in flagrant disregard of time and place. Nevertheless, such uncontrolled behaviour by the pants needs to be reined in with an iron fist. That's where the belt comes in.
Here we are not talking about the pretty little things, adorned with all kinds of baubles, that women wear with such a flourish. No, sir. The male belt is a full-leather beast that's meant to tame even the most errant of pants threatening to cut loose from the exertions of the area broadly described as the belly.
All very fine and with a few extra holes drilled in from time to time to accommodate the runaway paunch, the belt does its job well enough. The trouble starts when the rest of the anatomy, along with its centre, hits the road. Much like the Italians and the Sri Lankans discovered about the Chinese B&R initiative, it’s only midway through that reality bites. And boy does it hurt. Anyone who’s sat cramped in a car or a bus on a long road journey will know the agony of trying to keep the chatter going in the face of a tight belt’s vice-like grip around the waist. The relief at a pit stop when you can unbuckle or at least loosen the offending leather is indescribable.
Fashionistas, of course, have a completely different take on the accessory, considering it an essential part of the male wardrobe, something that can make or break a perfect outfit if you get the colour or the size or the material wrong. But they miss the woods for the trees.
For most men, the belt is an essential element of their physiognomy. From the time that recorded history first noted their presence on the male body, they were always utilitarian objects, initially used to hook hunting and excavating tools and later emerging as full-blown military girdles to carry weapons or tobacco pouches.
Recognizing their symbolic value, they soon came to acquire a much higher status as a symbol of valour and victory. Thus, in boxing, the winner is crowned with a belt while in sports like judo and karate, the colour of the belt symbolises a person’s rating in terms of skills.
From such rarified heights, the belt fell to a more mundane though critical need of all men - holding the pants in place. With that, their standing in the male toolkit was assured.
But lest those belts go and get themselves a swollen head because of all the attention I am paying, they might want to remind themselves of what American comedian, the late Mitchell Lee Hedberg said: “My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up. I don't really know what's happening down there. Who is the real hero?”
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