Dream

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"That's it. I am done. Why should I care? This is just not worth the pain."

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On the evening of 13th March, 1996, that was exactly how I felt. I was a broken man (No... wait, I was only 11 then, so broken kid). I had bunked school afflicted by that mysterious fever that goes undetected on thermometers ("It's how I feel inside!!"); the Indian cricket team had been smothered by the Sri Lankans in the World Cup semi-final and the Eden Gardens was up in flames. I had watched the match first ball onwards on TV and was now in the process of making a vow.

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No more following Indian cricket. Not a chance. Cricket was still major fun to play so the long summer evening sessions with friends were very much on but the hours wasted on watching a heart-breaking defeat were a strict no-no. Was Azhar going to fly in and complete my assignments for tomorrow? Was Sachin going to sign my sick leave application now that my folks were convinced of my 'fever' being not so real? 

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It was perfectly logical. Why should 11 woefully fluctuating performers on a cricket field far far away dictate my state of mind? On the rare day, they did make it float up in a beautiful blue sky, across spectacular scenery; but on most days, they put my mood through the mental equivalent of a paper shredder. I was and still am a person who strives to keep things in balance, not investing too much of my emotions into someone or something. And then came those moments when all balance and caution were thrown to the winds! Indian cricket ranked high on this list of balance destroyers and I wished to cut myself free.

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Today happens to be April 1st, 2011. How did I do on my escape? Failed. Spectacularly. Many times over. 'Like' is something which is quite difficult to quantify or justify. Either you like it or you don't. Facebook had that bit well figured out and hence that magic button. I resent watching India mess up on the cricket field, but I like watching India soar; it's only the mix of pleasure and pain that makes me irresistibly want more. Indian cricket is so much like India, and India is so much like the Indian cricket team.

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I don't buy into the hype around the importance of winning the World Cup for India though. "The dream of a billion plus people?" - Really??? True, nothing brings us together as a country like cricket but nearly a billion of our 'billion plus' are dreaming of more important things like better education & careers, good roads, a plate full of food, functional hospitals, faster justice, even debating if they want to be called an Indian or not and such like, not M.S. Dhoni lifting the trophy. It's a hard fact but if cricketing glory is at the top of your mind, you are having it really good as compared to most of your countrymen.

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Inspite of everything that I said in the paragraph above, for me, at a personal level, this Saturday, the 2nd of April has the potential to be the most important Saturday of my life. Yes, the proverbial elephant in the room, quietly swishing its tail, that is the question of whether India will overcome Sri Lanka in the World Cup final, will leave only after the presentation ceremony is done. It may leave ears drooping and eyes downcast, or it may run out trumpeting joining me as I shout out and jump with joy in a place and country half the world away from where I wanted to be just for this day. For reasons beyond my control, Dhoni and his boys have a major stake in my happiness tomorrow & for a long time to come, and a flood of happiness like this may just be a once-in-a-lifetime event. So please please please... 

'Ghar gatta'

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Remember that irritating game which I am sure anyone who has had a close in age sister in the house knows about. The whole mini house-hold set-up thing with tiny pots and pans, gas cookers and plastic vegetables where your sister could pretend at running a house for her dolls was called "Ghar gatta" or "House" in its international avatar. To top it all, your sister would have the nerve to invite you to join in and you would run away to stand in the verandah with a foul expression on your face wishing that you had a brother instead with whom you could play "Chor police" with your toy guns. This behaviour unfortunately gets back to you one day as you will find out, an unavoidable reality in a time bound assignment based job like mine.

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The greatest thing about being a working tourist like me is that you have all the weekends to yourself; to look forward to, to travel, to explore your surroundings and be footloose in general free from the chores & maintenance planning that a permanent resident of the area is subject to. The worst part of being a working tourist is that you are still bound by social conventions to plan for your rented accomodation such that you can survive there for the 5 days of work which finance your wanton weekend wanderings.

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So once again I found myself in an empty, newly refurbished apartment enjoying the feeling of huge unutilized spaces. The carpeting is brand new and the rooms still smell of fresh paint. There is a sense of a new beginning in here. So far so good. Then I discovered that the house is infested with cupboards and shelves which I knew somehow need to be utilized, and that is where the stress starts to build up. I realized that I need cooking utensils, crockery, a table and some chairs, a table lamp, an Internet connection, a mattress etc etc - the list grew beyond the line of my eyesight within a few brief seconds. Sadly it seemed that I needed to make notes now and sat down to put down my requirements on paper. The monetary part of the new settlement was only a minor issue, the major pain was that to fulfill my needs, it was time to go - horror of horrors - shopping!

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Our neighbourhood Super Walmart is an intimidating place with massively long aisles packed with an infinite variety of goods in a mind boggling combination of prices. My method of shopping involves looking at my list and then grabbing the first brand I see of that category. Admittedly a very flawed technique but there's only so much patience I can show when it comes to hanging around in a shopping mall wasting precious weekend travel hours. Fortunately there was expert help at hand in the form of a female colleague who marches through the super-market like she owns the place. Her husband and me trail along dazed and disinterested as she darts about from one corner of the huge product filled spaces from here to there. She was truly in her element. "You need salt, right?" she asks all of a sudden. I look at my super well planned shopping list to find it missing and answer with a sheepish "Oh yes, salt!" Then she enquires "Sugar?" Yes, that's not there on my list too, so another "Oh! Sugar!" is due. "Coffee, surely?" she goes and a quick check to find it absent means that I am on the verge of tearing my hopeless list up and handing my wallet over to her to buy what is called for. I somehow restrain my impulses and smile.

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But it's hardly over yet. There is stuff that I pick up from an aisle or two and the relevant advice from the expert turns out to be "Don't buy vegetables from here. We'll go to Trucchi's next. It's better quality there." or "Why buy this? You can get this stuff from the Dollar Store!" and such like. What, so there's Trucchi's and the Dollar Store to go to after all this??? You can almost see the rising shopping fever in her eyes! Sometimes you feel like even though you are saving many a dollar in this manner; after you turn 40, the high blood pressure medical treatment that all this is leading to is going to cost you a hell of a lot more. I should have thought about it before I invited female company to go shopping. By now it was too late.

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The day of dread was finally done and giving credit where it's due, the expert advice has made my new apartment a completely equipped and livable place without breaking my bank. I also have the raw materials, resources and instruments to cook anything now (on paper) but the fall-back on Maruchen Ramen & home delivered pizza is inevitable. For the majority of the week, I play this obnoxious game for which I have had a life long aversion so that I can be that kid in the verandah again for those two glorious days of freedom which follow the work week. Here I am, living through the cruel joke that the regular life pulled on me, playing "Ghar gatta".

On the chin

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A couple of days, South Africa were knocked out of the ICC Cricket World Cup 2011 in a typical, long-associated-with-them batting collapse that saw them concede a half-won match to New Zealand. Hundreds of pages had been devoted to their tendency to "choke" already and this most recent episode of epic on-field nervous breakdown will contribute a hundred pages more to their tragic history of cricket World Cup performances. 

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The South African team did once successfully chase down 434, the highest run chase in cricket One Day Internationals history (a record which still stands) in a super high pressure series decider against the then-top team in the world, Australia but as is human nature no one seems to remember this monumental achievement of theirs when their critics fire up the "CHOKERS" branding iron.
http://virtual-inksanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/434.html

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The South African captain, Graeme Smith, was visibly shattered by the chain of events that led to his team's loss when he spoke at the post-match presentation. His response to the first question put to him about his sentiments was something to the effect of "Words can't describe how (bad) I feel right now. We just got to take it on the chin and move on..." In that brief statement projecting the image of having received a knock-out punch to the chin, was embodied one of the major lessons anyone from full-time professionals to back-yard team reserves take from playing a sport, any sport.

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Losing in sport hurts, in a very bruising sort of personal way. Most people know the bitter aftertaste of defeat even from being on the vanquished side of a close neighbourhood terrace cricket match. It's funny because it is a stupid (at least it seems so in defeat) set of enforced rules that we subject ourselves to and then gripe about how the others outdid us in this simulated restricted environment. Isn't life and its real world issues complicated enough to keep us busy instead of us voluntarily participating in stress inducing play-acting?

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Sport (especially professional sport) is often criticized for promoting the "Winning is everything" philosophy. "Do what it takes" is unfortunately a very fine line away from "Do whatever it takes" and the reason why some sporting greats (Cristiano Ronaldo, Diego Maradona spring to mind) I feel are poor ambassadors of the central idea behind sports no matter how talented they might be. Because the beauty of sports lies in playing by the rules, not flouting them when nobody is looking. In busting your gut, in drowning in sweat, being delirious in pain - and yet losing out because you were just that half a percent short of what was required to win. And then return next time, digging yourself out of that emotional black hole, ready or should I say hoping to write a new chapter.

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The real reason why thousands of kids around the world, look forward to after school hours or holidays with such anticipation; bat, ball or racket in hand is a lot more sublime than the crude sentiment of "Winner takes all". The sometimes gritty nature of playground sporting battles, does not take away the fact that in the end, even the most bitter of quarrels was settled and some of our most pleasant childhood memories comprise of friends and experiences on the playing field. Through the joy and the disappointment of being bound by a common set of play rules, a message of balance is being broadcast to us, a slightly modified version of what those who denounce sports say. "Winning is indeed everything... but no one can win all the time" And that is a lesson well learnt, in sport and in life, especially for days when you have to take it... on the chin.