Thank you, Roger

2 July, 2001.

Center court, Wimbledon.

7 time grand slam champion Pete Sampras, widely expected to win his 8th title, a fifth consecutive Wimbledon, is serving to stay in the fourth round match, trailing 5-6 in the fifth set.

On the other end of the court is this 19 year old Swiss, with his hair in a ponytail, a headband, and wooden beads around his neck. His name is Roger Federer.

Sampras sends his first serve long. His second serve is returned with a majestic single-handed backhand that fizzes past him.

0-15.

Sampras serves, and charges towards the net as he always does. Federer returns. Sampras attempts his trademark volley which goes long.

0-30.

There are murmurs in the crowd. Not many saw this coming.

Sampras serves wide and Federer can't return.

15-30.

Federer returns the Sampras serve this time. The defending champion’s volley hits the net.

15-40. Two match points.

Sampras serves and this time, Federer’s return is too good for him.

Game. Set. Match. Federer.

There’s a deafening roar from the crowd. 19 year old Roger Federer has beaten Pete

Sampras, widely regarded as the greatest men’s tennis player at that time.  

That image of him with his hand covering his mouth, crying with ecstasy, unable to believe the fact that he had just beaten his idol, is my earliest memory of Roger Federer.

I’ve been hooked since. 

21 years, and 20 grand slams later, the greatest male tennis player in history, has retired.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach the moment I saw the news, although I’ve been expecting it for a while now. The kid in me desperately hoped for him to return to Wimbledon one last time, but I knew that was too much, even for Federer. 

He is 41 years old now. There’s only so much the human body can take.    

20 years of exhilarating highs and excruciating lows. He gave his all. And we lapped it up.

Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic have obviously overtaken him in terms of sheer numbers, currently at 22 and 21 grand slams respectively. But no one played the game like Federer did. No one got as close to perfection as he did.

The pin-point serve.

The majestic forehand.

The sumptuous volley.

And of course the one-handed backhand.

Poetry in motion, as they say.

It's all come to an end now.

Federer’s story wouldn’t be complete without the mention of Nadal, his greatest rival. The man who pushed him to his limits, and beyond. The man who made him literally cry after defeating him at the 2009 Australian Open final. 

And the man who sat there crying alongside his friend, holding his hands, during Federer’s farewell at the Laver Cup. 

“When Roger leaves the tour, an important part of my life is leaving too…” he said. 

There will be no other like Federer. 

Thank you Roger, for all the memories.

30 things to do before you turn 30. Or 40. May be 50.

So I recently turned 30. 

I've heard a lot of my friends complain endlessly about reaching the supposedly ‘ill-fated’ 30s. Turns out, it’s not so bad.

I’ve been reminiscing, which invariably I believe anyone who turns 30 tends to do. Looking back at my life over these 3 decades, it has been one hell of a ride. I didn’t scale the Everest or make a truck load of money, but it’s been nothing short of exciting to say the least.

There’s been love, loss, joy, despair, pride, regret, heart wrenching pain, and every other emotion I can possibly think of. And there’s more to come, I’m sure.

So I came up with a list of thirty things I think you should do before you turn thirty…or forty. Maybe fifty. Even sixt..you get the drift.

1. Wake up early

And see the sun rise. Feel the cool air in your face, with a cup of hot coffee in your hand. 

2. Laugh until your stomach hurts

Laugh at jokes. Crack a joke and make people laugh. Laugh so much that tears roll down your cheeks. Laugh so hard that you literally roll on the floor. Don’t worry about what the next person thinks. Laugh a lot. And loud. It’s awesome.

3. Eat exquisite food

Experiment with food. Try as many cuisines as you can get your hands on. Eat to your heart’s content and never apologise for it. Exercise can come after. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.

  

4. Ride a bike

Ride a bike somewhere. Let the wind slap your face. Ride up hills. Cover good distance. Get drenched in the drizzle as you leave everything behind.

  

5. Play a sport

Be part of a team. Feel the exhilaration of winning together. And the pain of losing together. Take responsibility. Help others train. Watch yourself transform into a better player, a team mate and a person. Play in front of a crowd and hear them cheer for you.

6. Say thanks to a teacher

Especially someone from your school. Do this now, if you haven’t already. You’d be a better person for it. Believe me, they deserve it.

7. Help out a total stranger

Help an old woman cross the road. Help a road-side vendor push his cart. Help a fellow passenger load their luggage in the cabin. Let an old person go ahead of you in a queue. Hold the lift for someone. Accept their gratitude.

8. Go on a long drive

Drive a car. Take a road trip with friends, partner, or family. Let your hair down, put your shades on and just drive.

9. Go on a trek

Trek a hill, small or big. Climb up and feel your muscles burn. Sweat it out. Stand atop and be proud of what you accomplished.

10. Sleep under the stars

Camp out for a night. Eat and sleep in the open. Stare at the stars and crush some mosquitoes.

11. Get sloshed

Get drunk with your friends or loved ones. Blabber without inhibition. Express all you want. Dance away to glory. Have a hangover the next morning and promise yourself not to do it again. Try and stick to the promise. 

12. Dance

Oh dance. Like no one’s watching. In your house, at school, at the disc, anywhere. Just dance and feel all the weight drain off your shoulders.

13. Watch a movie in a theatre

Watch a Rajnikanth movie in a theatre in Tamilnadu on the first day if you can. Rush inside with the crowd. Experience the thrill, the noise, the whistles, and the jubilation.

14. Get on a plane

Travel in an airplane. Look down after you’ve taken off. Bring perspective to life. And while you’re at it, enjoy a drink or two.

15. Live in a hostel

Live with a bunch of roommates. Wake up late and fight for the bathroom. Eat the bad food and complain about it. Go to the night show. Break curfew. Visit each other’s home.

  

16. Make your parents proud of you

Top your class. Play a music instrument. Graduate and take a picture with them with your hat on. Buy something nice for them with your first salary. Send them on a fully paid holiday.

17. Binge-watch a good TV/Web series

Watch a good tv or web series. There's a ton these days. Watch a whole season through the night. Sleep through the next day. Have a favourite character.

18. Cook a meal

Doesn’t matter if you aren’t good at it. Just make dal and rice. Hell, just make an omelette. Cook something, its therapeutic.  

19. Go on a solo trip

To a place that’s on your bucket list. Let your jaw drop looking at the spectacle. Get perspective.

20. Fall in love

Love someone unconditionally. Be vulnerable. Share all your secrets. Pamper and get pampered. Make mistakes. Get your heart broken. Move on.

21. Go on a date

Meet someone new. Have a conversation, make them smile. Learn something about them.

22. Apologise to someone you’ve hurt

Let go of that ego. Say sorry, it feels good. Let them know you didn’t intend to hurt them. More importantly, forgive yourself.

23. Make one friend whom you can call at 3 in the morning without a second thought

Earn that one loyal friend with whom you can talk about anything, share your darkest secrets and not be judged. Defend them to your life. Get into a fight for him or her. Get beaten up and then laugh about it.

24. Experience snow

Go up north in India or go anywhere else. Watch the snow fall. Grab some in your hands. Smear some on to your face. Ski if you can.

25. Host a party

Have people over to your house. Invite 5 people or 50 people. Cook food or order in. Make it BYOB for all you care.

26. Donate money

And watch how it makes someone else’s life better. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Just look at that smile on the face of the guy who collects your old newspaper when he sees that 10 rupee note.

27. Go to a live concert

Go watch your favourite band play live. Or any band for that matter. Drown in the music and groove with the crowd. Sing along even if you don’t know the lyrics. Imagine yourself playing the guitar.  

28. Go for a swim

Jump in the pool once in a while, or the ocean. Or just sit in the bath tub. Don’t worry if you don’t know to swim. Just dive in the water and splash around. Just stay in the water and move with it.

29. Have a pet

Get a dog. Or a cat. Get any pet. Feed her (or him), walk her, play with her. Let her jump at you when you get back home from work.

30. Read a book

Read at least one book. Read many, ideally. Don’t ask me why. Just read. 

May be you’ve done all of these. May be you haven’t. Give it a shot. You won’t regret any of it. 

As the cliché goes – age is just a number.

The 15 feet fall to heaven

I woke up. "The bus will stop for 15 mins" yelled the conductor. We had stopped at Hasanur for tea. I got down, it was gloomy here compared to the scorching heat of Coimbatore. I had a cup of tea and a questionable samosa. I stretched a bit and got back into the bus. It had been a 3 hour drive from Coimbatore to here. The guy who sat next to me at the aisle was snoring with his mouth wide open all this way. I had to wake him up to get down. He was awake now when I got back.

The road was better now and the driver picked up speed. Darkness set in and rain started pouring. I pushed my seat back and settled down. Water descended from the sky like scores of arrows in a battlefield. Drops of water hit my window screen so fiercely that I thought they were actually going to break it down. The bus raced forward as my thoughts raced backwards. They raced backwards to exactly a week ago, to the same day...

My phone 'ting'ed, it was my sister on whatsapp. "Heard the latest news about Natraj appa?"

I was watching the football match between Manchester United and Tottenham. I typed a short reply, "What?"

"He fell off our terrace. Low BP"

"He fell off our what?" I couldn't actually believe what she had just said

"He fell from the terrace to our backyard. They took him to Mettuplayam. Not enough facilities there apparently, they are on their way now to Coimbatore"

It was sinking in now. I called her. I don't remember what happened to the football match.

"How bad is he hurt?" I asked

"I don't know, they didn't give me details. Call mom, she is with aunt and the others"

In the back of my mind, I knew how bad a fall from my terrace to the floor could be but I still wanted to believe it was nothing serious. Probably a fracture to his leg or something. Nothing bad will happen.

I called my mother. "Ha Dharshan", her voice was shaky. You could always assess the gravity of a situation from the trembling in your mother's voice.

"How is Natraj appa" I asked, trying to sound as un-flustered as possible.

"They have taken him inside. He didn't regain consciousness since he fell. It doesn't look good" she replied, trying hard to hold herself together.

“How did it happen?”

“He had been washing the car and he sat on the compound wall. They say he might have had low BP and lost control and fell over”, my mother was trembling

I remained speechless.

“I will call you when I know more”

In 10 minutes, my mother called me back and she was weeping. I knew it was all over. My uncle had just died. My dad’s younger brother just succumbed to skull fractures and internal hemorrhage. Not a drop of blood was shed.

I tried to hold back tears and called my sister. “He’s gone” I said, “it’s over”. She started crying uncontrollably. She had just returned to Chennai after a week’s break at home between jobs. I tried to console her and asked her to book a bus immediately and come home. She lives in Chennai.

My cousin Tara, Natraj appa’s younger daughter was messaging me meanwhile on whatsapp asking me what was going on. People had begun gathering at home already. I couldn’t break the news to her on the phone. I called her and said there was nothing to worry, everything was fine. “Okay anna” she said, “I’m scared”.

I put the phone down, knowing that I would break down if I spoke one more word with her.

I booked my bus ticket. The earliest I could manage was at 2.30 that night. It was 3.30 by the time the bus reached Bangalore, on its way from Hyderabad to Coimbatore. I reached Coimbatore by 9 the next morning. My sister was already there with my other cousin Sonia, who studies in Coimbatore. It was another 2 hour drive from Coimbatore to our house in Kotagiri.

We reached home. My mom and Sonia’s mom, with swollen eyes, were there with Kousalya, Natraj appa’s elder daughter. Kousalya is due to deliver her first baby in a month. Her husband is in Spain right now. Tears came streaming down their cheeks the moment they saw us.

I walked straight to Kousalya and held her hand. I had no words to say to her. She spoke instead.

“Look anna, my father made you come home soon. You said you wouldn’t come until I had my baby”

My resolve broke at those words. I looked away so that she wouldn’t see my cry and held her hands tight. She was lying down.

They had taken the corpse to the common ground in the village where people to gather to pay their last respects. Kousalya apparently wasn’t allowed to go there since she is pregnant.

It was 12 in the afternoon already. We went straight to the ground. Hundreds of people were already gathered there. My uncle’s body was laid in a cot right in the middle of the ground. A few ladies along with my aunt, his wife, sat by the cot. My aunt had no more energy left to cry or speak.

I walked to Tara who was screaming her lungs out. I held her with all the strength I could muster and sat with her.

In another hour, it was time for burial. About 8 of us, fathers and brothers and sons carried my uncle’s body to the cemetery. It was about a kilometer from the village. The rest of the people followed.

I stood there watching as men carried Natraj appa and put him inside the 6x3ft grave which was dug and ready. As we threw mud over his body, I couldn’t help but wonder, what would have been his last flashes of thoughts as he fell from the terrace to the ground? Was he even conscious or was he already unconscious when he fell over? If he was conscious, what were his last thoughts?

They say a person’s entire life flashes by during the last moments before their last breath. I doubt that. A person’s life is too big to flash by in a few seconds. Or is it possible? How would I know, I haven’t been dead before.

But still, I tried to imagine what his thoughts would have been…

“Oh my god, will I not be able to see my grandson or granddaughter”

“Have I been a good father to my two daughters? I love them so much, maybe I should have told them that more often”

“My wife is going to be alone when I die. Is she going to be able to manage life all by herself? No I don’t want to die”

“My son-in-law is so far away right now. I hope he was here to give strength to my daughter as she mourns my death”

“Could I have been a better father? A better husband? I did everything I could. I hope that was enough”

“Tara, I love you so much. Kousy, I love you so much. Prema…”

I snapped back to reality when there was a loud roar as they covered his corpse with mud.

A little more than 2 years back, I stood at the exact same place watching probably these same men, bury my kid brother Amrith. He was my dad’s third brother’s son. He was 22 when he died. It was a road accident. He was coming back to hostel after dinner one night with his friend in a bike. His friend was riding as my brother sat behind. They were just about to enter the college gate when a truck knocked them over from behind.

His friend fell to the left along with the bike and my poor little brother fell to the right. By the time the truck driver hit the brakes, it was too late. The truck, weighing about a ton, ran right over my brother’s chest crushing his ribs like a piece of paper. I don’t think he even had the time to experience the pain. I hope to God, he didn’t. Again, not a drop of blood. He was declared dead when they took him to the hospital.

When you bury a loved one into the ground, you get perspective.

“Saar”

Death reminds you of the fickle nature of life. You realize what’s important and what’s not.

“Saar”

Death is inevitable. But it doesn’t mean you stop living and wait to die. Life has so much more to offer. We carry memories and move forward. Like I am, right now, or at least I’m trying to.

“Saar, hello”

Natraj appa, we never spoke too much with each other. Hell, you never spoke much with anybody. But we all knew the gem of a person you were. We will always remember the jokes. We will always remember the rants. We will always remember grandpa’s stories about you. However few they are, we only have happy memories with you. May your soul rest in peace.

Tara, I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through right now. But make no mistake, your father loved you more than anything else in this world. You guys may not have been the best of friends but he did the best he could to be a good father. Don’t you feel guilty that you didn’t tell him you loved him before he died. He knows. He knows you love him. He will watch over you for the rest of your life.

“Saar, get up. Bangalore last stop. Saar…” the bus conductor shook me by my shoulder. I had reached Bangalore.

I got down and took a ric to my house. It was 12.30 in the night. Tomorrow, I will wake up and go back to work. Life will go on.

Natraj appa’s left shoe still lies on our terrace… 

1 and 0

Sometimes I dream of saving the world. Saving everyone from the invisible hand. One that brands us with an employee badge. The one that forces us to work for them. The one that controls us every day without us knowing it. But I can’t stop it. I’m not that special. I’m just anonymous. I’m just alone…

I paused my laptop, I thought I heard my phone ring. It wasn’t ringing. It’s weird I always feel like my phone is ringing when it isn’t and when it actually does, I never hear.

It’s 2.30 in the afternoon. The ceiling fan is going about at its top speed but it makes no difference. It is so hot. My phone shows 34°c. 

The curtains kept flapping on the window. I had closed them to avoid glare.

The house is utterly silent. I can hear the soft whir of the fan. I can hear water falling from a leaky tap somewhere, one drop at a time. A dog was barking in the distance. A few kids were running around outside the apartment.

There was an occasional murmur from the other room. My cousin must be watching a movie or talking to someone on the phone. It must be the movie, he is not the kind who talks on the phone much.

The clothes I washed in the morning are out drying in the balcony.

The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexander Dumas was lying beside me on the bed, face down. I thought I’d up the level of books I read…I was tired of all the fiction. So I had bought this book along with a couple others. But it is so boring. I couldn’t read beyond 3 pages. I put it down without even book marking it.

I turned back to my laptop to hit the play button. My eyelids drooped a little. The heavy lunch was beginning to take its toll. I slouched a little more on the bed.

I had two choices. Hit the play button and continue watching Mr. Robot or shut the laptop and take a nap.

Life is binary. It always was and always will be.

1 and 0.

Good and bad.

Yes and no.

Rich and poor.

There is no gray area. It only complicates things. Life is not that complicated. It is pretty simple. 1 and 0.

I had to choose one option now. I had to make my decision.

Hit the play button or not? Fight the stupor and continue watching or concede to it and go to sleep?

The fan was still whirring, the curtains still flapping. The dog was still barking. I couldn’t hear the children anymore, they probably went inside their houses.

We have always been taught to not give up. Our parents, our teachers, the movie we watch, the books we read, the athletes we adore…everybody tells us not to give up. Everybody tells us to be strong. Don’t be weak. Fight. Fight and overcome. All our lives, we keep hearing ‘never give up’. 

Well I gave up. I crumbled face down on my bed. Like a pack of cards. My eyes closed themselves. I let go. I slept. I slept like a baby.

And that…was my Saturday afternoon.  How was yours? 

Money and Me

I usually take something to read when I go to the toilet. This morning, I couldn't find anything to read, so I took my mobile with me. I logged into Facebook, after a long time, and began checking out what other people were upto in their lives.

As I was scrolling, I came across a couple of videos which left a lasting impression on me. The first one goes like this.

Guy in an SUV looks at guy in Ferrari and thinks "Look at him in a sports car". Guy in a sedan looks at guy in SUV and thinks "I too wanna do off-roading someday". Guy in an old cheap car looks at guy in sedan and goes "When will I have a new and shiny car". Guy riding a bicycle on the road looks at guy in the cheap car and wonders "How much more longer do I have to ride this stupid bicycle, I want a car too". Guy on foot on the road looks at guy in bicycle and thinks "A bicycle would have been so good". Finally, the camera zooms out to a small boy in a wheelchair on the porch of his house looking at the guy walking on the road and mutters longingly "He can go wherever he wants". Moral of the story: Be content and happy with whatever you have.

It was a very moving video.

I had woken up early today, so I had time, so I went on scrolling. The thing is, Facebook doesn't need you to click on the play button of videos anymore, videos just play automatically as you scroll. So the next video played. And it went like this.

This is a normal guy walking on the pavement, on his way to office. Suddenly water falls on him from an outlet from the first floor which was left open. He looks up, doesn't complain, picks up a flower pot from the side and places it right where the water falls. He walks on. He comes across a mother and a girl child sitting on the side of the road begging for money. The board read "For my daughter's education". He gives her some money and continues walking. He is having lunch at an outdoor restaurant and a dog comes to him and looks at him with hungry eyes. He feeds the dog a piece of chicken. He comes back home in the night with a bunch of bananas and places them next to his neighbor's door, an old lady who lives alone.

He does all this every day. After a few days...the same guy is walking to office - today the pot had a beautiful flower which had just bloomed, water was still falling on it from the first floor outlet. He smiles and walks on. He gives money to the beggar lady but she wouldn't take it. The next moment, her daughter comes by, in school uniform. After lunch, as he walks back to office, the dog follows him, tail wagging, pretty much wherever he went. That night, his neighbor, the old lady was waiting for him and when he came with his usual bunch of bananas, she gave him a big hug, with a wide smile and tears in her eyes. The video ends with these lines - "This man goes out of his way to help other people. He doesn't get money or fame in return. He just gets love and kindness. He makes the world a better place"

This was an even better video, almost moved me to tears.

As I came out of the bathroom, I thought to myself "Yeah, money isn't everything in life. I should stop wanting that car, or that bigger TV or that trip abroad. I should be happy with what I have"

And then I came out and saw the electricity bill lying on the table - 550Rs. Next to it was the gas bill - 300Rs. Rent is due in a few days. Credit card bill after that. Internet, grocery, maid and miscellaneous bills need to be paid too. I was charged 120Rs by Uber to come to office. Just when I got to office, sister called me and asked for some money for her expenses. Mom had called yesterday asking for some money for a master checkup which she had to do.

And then I thought to myself "I better have some f***ing money in the bank before I watched videos like those and started believing money isn't everything".
 

Last man on earth

The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door. 

The wooden noise reverberated across the empty room. The only furniture in the room was the chair on which he was seated. The sudden noise sliced through the vacuum, sending a chill down his spine. He immediately sat erect. ‘Who could it be?’ It was terrifying to even imagine. He had been sitting there for a long time now, he had lost track of time after the first few days. Strangely he didn’t feel any hunger or thirst, he had just been sitting on the chair…sometimes asleep and other times awake, thinking of nothing. He couldn’t comprehend how he ended up inside this room. He tried hard to recollect what had happened – how did everybody else die? how did he manage to survive? where was he now? where was this room? – a thousand questions pounded his head but he wasn’t able to answer any of them. It was like his head was wiped off clean of all that had happened in the last few days or weeks or even months, and he had no way of finding out.

Meanwhile, the knocking continued. It was slow and rhythmic. Whoever was knocking the door was in no hurry. Did they know he was in here? What were they looking for? Have they come to help him? If everybody else in the earth is dead, then who is this? His mind raced…who could it be?

Could it be his mother? 

No, that’s not possible. She died when he was 16. It was the saddest day of his life. She had been sick for a while then. ‘Acute lymphocytic leukemia’ the doctors had said. Blood cancer was the more common word. He didn’t have the money to treat her. Chemotherapy was very expensive. He didn’t even have his father with him, he had left them when he was 4 years old. And he never came back. He was their only son. He had loved his mother more than anything else in the world. She was a short woman, with thick brown hair and green eyes. She had loved him, provided for him and taken care of him. He was her prized possession. He remembered how she used to carry him along with her to work since she could not afford a nanny. She was a very kind, gentle and generous person. All their neighbors liked her.

He remembered the day he had won the debate competition at high school. His mother had taken two-hour permission from the soda bottling company and had come to school to watch him debate.

He recalled every small detail from that day. How overjoyed his mother was. She hugged him so tight, when the results were announced, that he had difficulty breathing. She had tears in her eyes when one of his teachers met her and told her what a brilliant ward her son was at school. All the way back home, she proudly told everybody in the streets about her son’s victory in the debate competition. She held his trophy high in one hand and clutched his hand with her other. She cooked him his favorite meal – pork chops and mashed potatoes – that night and kept telling him how proud she was of him and how he was destined to achieve great things in life. He listened to every word…he couldn’t remember when he slept.

The sickness had begun about 4 months before she died. She started getting frequent fevers and headaches. The first couple of times, she would just rest at home or take some meds from the nearby pharmacy and go to work. But then the fevers continued with increasing frequency. Over the next two months, she had cough too…incessant dry cough. She was growing weaker and weaker with every passing day. One night, there was blood in her mouth when she coughed. She had tried to hide it from him but he had found out. He had never seen his mother bleed. He was terrified, he was trembling, his knees almost gave way. Somehow he gathered the strength to speak and insisted that they go to a hospital immediately but his mother refused. The next morning, there was blood again. He rushed her to the hospital which was in the town about 8 miles away. They had done a few tests and found out she had cancer. With chemotherapy, the doctor said, she would live another 8-12 months but that was going to cost a lot of money. His mother insisted on not taking the treatment, she felt it was just not worth it.

She died in the next 4 months.  So it could not be her.

The knocking had become more impatient now. His mind was racing. He stood up to just walk to the door and open it, but he couldn’t. He was too afraid, too uncertain. He looked around for anything which he could use as a weapon if the visitor turned out to be hostile, but he couldn’t find anything except his chair which was bolted to the floor. And suddenly the knocking stopped. It was unnervingly quiet. The room had no windows except for a small outlet at the top west corner. He had no chance of reaching it. He sat back down, wiped the perspiration off his forehead and started thinking again.

Could it be his father?

No way. He left him and his mother when he was 4 years old. He hated his father. He did not want to think about it any further.

Could it be his girlfriend from school?  

He hadn’t met her since graduation. They had planned to join the same college but she never contacted him since then. She had moved from their town and he didn’t know where she went, she hadn’t given him any phone number or forwarding address.

Could it be his friend John?

John and he grew up together. They went to the same school and roamed about the streets of their small town always together. But he couldn’t remember the last time he met John or what had happened to him. Had he found him and come to take him with him?

He couldn’t think of anyone else in his life that was important enough to come see him other than these people.

Or could it be his captors? Have they come back to take him away and torture him and kill him? Why had they left him alone all this while?

A loud thud on the door brought him back to his senses. The realization struck him hard. EVERYBODY ELSE in the world was dead except him. He could not justify to himself how he knew that but he knew it. He was the only person left on earth. It could not be his mother or his girlfriend or his captors.

The knocking had become impatient now. His heart jumped. He stood up and paced across the room trying to come up with some kind of a logical explanation to what was going on.

May be it was the aliens. May be they had come to earth and destroyed everything. He had no way of knowing since he couldn’t remember anything. They could kill him or eat him alive or take him away to their planet. Images of all kinds of aliens from the movies he had seen whizzed through his mind.

The knocking continued. They wouldn’t call out his name or shout or anything. They just kept knocking the door. He shut his ears for a few seconds hoping that when he released his hands the knocking would have stopped but to his dismay, it still continued. 

Could it be God?

May be it was God. It didn’t seem possible but considering his circumstances, he didn’t know what was possible and what was not. Was God here to reward him for surviving the test which swept away every other living being on the entire planet? But why now? Where had God been all these days? Maybe, God was looking for him and finally managed to find him.

He decided to call out to God and see if he responded.

“God! Is that you?”

The knocking stopped, but there was no response.

It seemed to him his actions bordered on stupidity, but he didn’t have much option.

“Please answer God, is that you?”

Silence.

“Whoever it is, say something. I’m not going to open the door if you don’t speak up”

Still no answer. Only silence.

To his horror, the knocking began again.

He could not take any more of this. He decided to open the door, no matter what or who was on the other side. He was the last one left and he knew he wasn’t going to do much in this world alone any which way. He was going to do it.

He wiped his face with his sleeve and slowly walked towards the door…

'BOLT'ed

There he stands…

Its 8.30pm in London, 6^th August, 2012

1.00am in India the next day

The moment has arrived.

The most awaited event of the London, 2012 Olympics was about to begin - the men’s 100m final

There he stands…

I’m sitting in front of my television set, and I know the whole world was watching too along with me. I could only envy the 80,000 or so in the stadium who could watch it so close, so real. I’ve already had two coffees to keep myself awake

There he stands…with his yellow jersey dazzling under a thousand arc lights and a million flash lights, smiling at the camera. He knows the whole world is watching him. The camera zooms – he strokes his bald head with his left hand..salutes the camera with the index and middle finger of his right hand..he jogs a couple..swivels..smiles and then looks away. Away from the camera, away from the crowds in the stands..he stares into oblivion which the camera cant capture anymore

He is the fastest man on the planet. He is the defending champion. He holds the record time of 9.58 seconds which he clocked in 2009. But he hasn’t had the best of preparations to the Olympics. He got himself disqualified in the World athletics championship in Daegu this year after a false start. He lost the Jamaican Olympic trials to his compatriot, his co-trainee and his fiercest rival Yohan Blake who is now standing right next to him on lane 5. The critics have almost written him off. A lot of things have been said in the papers. He knows the pressure is on him, he can feel it, but he doesn’t show it

The loudspeaker begins announcing the athletes from lane 1. A huge roar erupts across the stadium as his name is called out. The camera once again closes up on him, a few seconds longer than everybody else. This time he becomes a DJ. He’s flexing his muscles..he’s holding his imaginary headphones with his left hand and is operating the disc with his right. He’s gauging the bass, treble and rhythm…he’s the rock star and the stage is set.

The call goes and all the 9 athletes kneel down and take their positions on their launch pads on earth. For them, it’s an honor racing with him. For him, there’s something to prove. He kneels, looks into the sky and signals a cross in prayer. He looks back down into the earth, flings his gold chain back and focuses.

SET!

He takes position. All the hard work..all the sweat..all the hype..all the criticism..it all boils down to this..the moment of truth. He waits in patience for the blast of the gun. Not another false start, not this time

GO!

The gun shoots and he takes off. He doesn’t start well, as usual. He’s not one of the best starters. He runs, his eyes still planted on the ground, his body half bent, his long legs gathering momentum, the others have gone ahead. He runs..straight as an arrow..has straightened now, his eyes looking forward..his broad chest pounding into the hapless air

He transforms into the beast, his feet thudding into the tarmac. He storms away with his bright white spikes almost not even touching the ground, racing ahead of the rest of the pack. The crowd roars..the commentators scream..cameras flash. He’s flying. His opponents are running the race of their lives…behind him. He’s gone!

80 metres. He almost slows down, to look at the clock to his left as he reaches the finishing point pushing his head in front ahead of his galloping body

He’s won!

He keeps running..smiling..pointing into the sky..into the crowds into the stands. He celebrates with them, grabs two Jamaican flags, turns around, drapes one flag around his silver medal winning rival and another around himself. They hug each other and he pats Blake on the back. Then he goes on to click pictures with the audience

He comes back to the track and freezes into his trademark ‘bolt’ pose. The crowd go berserk. Scores of cameramen swarm around to catch a glimpse of the man..to etch the moment in history. Then he walks off dancing and swinging

There was Jesse James (my favorite athlete of all times), there was Carl Lewis, there was Maurice Green

But this is BOLT, USAIN BOLT - the fastest man on the planet!

I switched off the TV and went to bed.

Some of the most fascinating moments of our lives need not be a few days, a few hours, not even a few minutes…9.63 seconds will do just fine.

What I want

‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ asked the teacher

‘Happy’ said John Lennon

‘You didn’t understand the assignment’ they told him

He said ‘they didn’t understand life’

I wish I could have said that when my second grade teacher asked me the same question. But then, I being a lesser mortal that I am, said ‘astronaut Mam’ with pride twinkling in my eyes. There had been a science exhibition at school the previous day and the model of the solar system captivated my imagination for the rest of the day and whole of the night. A few days passed and with my memory, my ‘ambition’ too faded away

I loved to dance. I had been dancing since I was 3. School annual day function, 1997 - 4^th grade. I got the opportunity to choreograph a group of 5 boys and lead the dance performance. It was a massive hit, the ovation was addictive. I decided I wanted to become a dancer. I dreamed for the next few days of me becoming a huge star in the showbiz, millions of fans dying to get my autograph, never ending proposals from female fans and tons of money pouring in - Well this one instance, I have to admit I still dream of all these things

1998 – India vs Australia ODI series, Sharjah. Sachin Tendulkar was at his marauding best and the Aussies had no clue how to stop him. ‘The desert storm’ we fondly call the series. I would pay today to watch the same look on Shane Warne’s face when Sachin danced down the track and lofted him over the mid-on boundary again and again and again. I was left speechless at the man’s genius. That’s when I made my mind that I wanted to become a cricketer, an opening batsman at that. Nothing was going to stop me

9^th grade, I was 14 years old. The computers were beginning to take a stronghold of the day-to-day happenings of the planet. May be since long before but that was when I realised. I was fascinated by what that box could do just by hitting a few keys. One day during computer class, I got a program right at the first try after it was taught to us. My eyes lit up looking at the monitor, I knew at that moment, what I was going to do with my life. I was going to be a ‘computer engineer’. I would go on to learn that the term was ‘software engineer’. I again fantasized about how I would work in a huge company with air conditioned glass buildings, flying abroad, marrying in an island, getting my children to study in the most expensive of schools, etc, etc.

But by the time I finished my tenth grade, it was clear that computer programming and I were simply ‘mutually exclusive’. I couldn’t find a better term to describe our relationship. We just couldn’t exist together in the same room. We broke up, and I moved on

I had kept my options open and had taken up Math and Bio when I had to choose a group for my higher secondary. It didn’t take long for me to discover that Math didn’t come to me naturally too. I had somehow managed to do decently well until tenth grade but this was a different ball game altogether. A ‘violent’ teacher didn’t make things any better. Towards the end of school, I hated Math more than anything in my life

Board exam results were out and I had scored 199 in Biology – I myself couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked at it the first time. I didn’t want to be a doctor because I knew I didn’t have the mettle to get through the entrance exam, let alone completing the course. And suddenly, Biology seemed to be the future. Research in the fields of Microbiology and Biotechnology seemed to be the next big thing and I sure wanted to be a part of it. And also it was high time I got back to reality in my life

I took up Microbiology for my under graduation. The first few sessions in the lab were enthralling. I was sure I had finally made the right choice in life. But yet again, painfully, I began to lose interest. Invisible organisms magnified under the microscopic lens didn’t appeal to me anymore. The lab looked to me a mere room filled with machines. I wasn’t able to appreciate the magnitude of their applications. Experiments went unfinished and the autoclave stunk. I just couldn’t hold on, I gave up

I didn’t drop out of college, I was determined to stay – for a few other reasons too. It was the end of second year and I still didn’t know what to do with my life. And then, out of nowhere, MBA came beckoning and I knew I had to take it, for a decent career. I didn’t have much choice. It was not about dreaming anymore, it was about survival, it was about respect

I worked hard and made sure I got into a reputed institution. I fared pretty well through the course and today, I am sitting here as Management consultant – a term I hadn’t even heard of a few months ago – in an investment banking and market research company. No doubt, the salary package is decent, there is no pressure whatsoever at work (I wrote this post sitting at office), I’m never home during weekends, there are a good bunch of friends around me, the future looks secure.

But, every morning when I wake up, I stare straight into it, its right in front of me, like a monster – THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT.

So, what do I want?

How I wish, more than anything else, I knew the answer to it.