'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.

We're sorry, Afreen.

Dear Afreen,

I don’t know who you were until 5 days ago when you appeared in the papers. You were admitted in the hospital with cigarette burns and torture wounds fighting for your life. Being only 3 months old, I don’t even know how you could take all that and still be alive ‘fighting for your life’. I can’t imagine the pain you would’ve gone through these 90 days of your life. The last 5 days I prayed, hoped and waited for you to somehow get better and go back home with your mother. But yesterday morning, finally, you gave up. May be you couldn’t fight anymore, may be you had no more strength left in your 3 month old tender body – cardiac arrest due to multiple convulsions, the doctors said

You got a death sentence. Your crime: being born a girl!

Your father wanted a boy baby. And when you came to this world, he didn’t like you and he tortured you. Probably he didn’t realize that it was his ‘X’ chromosome too that made you a girl and he held your mother alone responsible for it. He even demanded one lakh rupees from your mother just because she gave birth to you

Your mother Reshma doesn’t want to forgive your father who’s in prison now. She wants a slow death for him. What I want is to kill him myself. Looks like his co-prisoners almost did it yesterday when the news of your demise broke out before the cops rescued him

I’m sure there are several more babies like you being tortured and dying everyday by the ‘Umar Farooq’s of India for being born a girl whose stories didn’t make it to the papers

We’re sorry we couldn’t save you Afreen. We’re sorry that this world couldn’t give you any sort of good memories to take back in your 3 month stint. May be it’s for the good, may be this country doesn’t deserve a precious girl child like you

Again, we’re sorry!

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/bangalore-baby-afreen-dies-of-cardiac-arrest/247743-3.html