Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Hypocrite

So there was this guy
Who loved to work a lot
Because it kept him busy
Too busy to think 'bout what he really wants to do
He was a helluva liar
So he lied to friends, parents and himself
That this was what he was always meant to do..
This "working a lot" thing

But one day something cracked within
He walked into his boss's cabin
And told him exactly what he thought of him
And went back home and told his dad
That he is off to a north-eastern log cabin
He will be back soon - to his prospective jobs and prospective brides
He booked his tickets for the 36 hour train ride
His dad smirked and asked him to book the return for a week later

Now he found his log cabin, overlooking the Teesta
He found good scotch, and a packet of cigarettes
He found pen and paper
He lost his laptop and ipad
He found Gilmour and Lennon and Knopfler
He lost the internet and the TV and the newspaper, even!

And he wrote and wrote and wrote
He wrote through sobriety, drunkenness and stonedness
He wrote through depression and joy and anger
10000 words, 30000 words, 60000 words

6 months passed and the return ticket never got bought
And then one night, he read all that he wrote
He read through that night and day
Then laughed and burnt it all away

He came back and got a "respectable job"
He came back and got a "pretty wife"
And never did anybody know
How those 6 months did go



Thursday, March 8, 2012

Rahul Dravid

He must be sitting in his living room watching one of the movies today.
He dare not switch to a news channel.
He is good at this 'not switching to a news channel' thingy.
He has done it at many junctures over the years.
He will have an early dinner and go to bed so that he can hit the gym early tomorrow morning.
Just the way he has been doing for donkeys years now.
He has toned every muscle, every joint, strengthened every sinew over the years.
His high perspiration levels meant he lost water too fast and constantly needed liquids.
Every shot he ever played was practised like a fanatic in the nets.
Every thought process, every reaction to every ball was calibrated to perfection.
There were so many balls played.
In the matches, in the nets, then again in the mind.
There were balls bowled by opposition bowlers, practice bowlers, imaginary bowlers.
And there were millions of cover drives, straight drives, square cuts, on drives, pulls and hooks.
So many that the body knows only that as natural movement, as a general state of being.

There was injury, dejection, failure, match-fixing, loss of captaincy.
But always, there was the next ball to be played.
For a team sport, this was always his own struggle with himself, his asking questions of himself and then answering them.
There were pretty girls, fancy cars, massive endorsement deals.
But always, there was, above all, the next ball to be played.
There were strike rates, run rates, win rates, and all sorts of rates to be worried about.
But there was a bat in his hand and that was all that mattered.
There were stars, egotists, prodigies, megalomaniacs all around him.
But, as always, there was, most importantly, the next ball to be played.

There were numbers which seemed to be going faster than him
And there were numbers which seemed to be going slower than him
But numbers meant little
There was that night at Wellington, that evening at Headingley, that morning at Adelaide
And then there was that heartbreaker at Queens Park Oval Trinidad 2007

No one in his team played bounce was well as him
No one in his team played swing as well as him
No one in his team showed as much improvement in playing spin over their career spans
No one in his team would have dared to take that wicket-keeping job, that opening slot, that declaration call

He has been a fine example of what human endeavour can achieve
He stands for what an ordinarily talented man can make of himself by sheer character
He might well be the only genuinely nice guy of our generation who finished first
He will be one of the very few my child will have to hear a lot about from me when he is born

Tomorrow he will announce the end of it all
Just as has been the case his entire life - he doesnt have much say in this matter either
There might be awards, commentary stints, political rallies, administrative posts
There might be many family outings, annual days, coaching camps, expert interviews, ad campaigns
There might be a prosperous paunch, a fancy estate, a scotch at the end of the day
But there wont be the next ball to be played

Mr Rahul Dravid, some things need to be said even if they have become cliches
You are, to my knowledge, the pinnacle of human ability and enterprise
Id pay to watch you play cricket in your backyard with your son