A tryst with the Lord

We were at the Hilton, Mumbai on the evening of Saturday, minutes before the MI/RCB IPL clash. Fans had thronged the lobby with autograph books and throbbing hearts. After a long wait, familiar faces (heroes to some) began coming out of the front elevators in trickles, building up the cadence in the hotel, slowly but surely. As kids and grown-ups flocked around them alike, we observed the pointed gleam in their eyes. The stars reciprocated, some with autographs, and some by getting just plain chatty with the crowd before they headed out towards the bus.

And then a few minutes later, the security guards began persuading the crowd to step back a little. A certain excitement gripped the air as five bodyguards blocked the passage between the main foyer and the elevator. Out came the Lord himself, in full blood and flesh, like a divine ray of light. There was a moment of silence, almost disbelief, before the crowd erupted into a loud roar chanting 'Sachin' like obsessed devotees. But unlike the other players, and much to the disappointment of many, he went past everyone without as much as a cursory glance of acknowledgement. His eyes and face gave away nothing - not the ecstasy of his achievements, not the dismay of betrayal when he was in the pits, not the grimace from his endurance - just a stoic calm that said he was not done yet. He was there not for the accolades, he was there not for the titles. He was there, only to play for passion.

And while some misconstrued his indifference as sheer arrogance, I saw it as the mark of a true champion with a linear focus.

One Hell Of An Over-rated Word! (Presented to a college magazine)

Dear Students,

My first indulgence in the word ‘love’ had resulted in a rather demoralizing catastrophe. I was eight, and I told little Florence sitting next to me in class that I loved her. God knows why – maybe it was a fallout of the boring math class that needed a pleasant digression. She told on me, and I got smacked on the knuckles by the teacher, who glared at me like I had engaged in the biggest profanity there ever was. A day later, my mother was summoned, and I was given another sermon at home the memories of which are not endearing either.
In the days that ensued, my frail sensibilities gawked at the ruckus created over a word that, we were taught, was but a simple expression. Years later, I realized that the moral lessons on love missed an important caveat – that the word had indefinite prerequisites associated with it. Today, in order that I can love, I should be a) wealthy, b) well qualified, c) sensitive (whatever that means), and preferably d) a well chiseled body that can pass off as a wax statue. Just for the record, Florence finally chose Francis over me because he was a product that fulfilled all the aforementioned criteria (and he also gifted her a soft toy).
In hindsight, the entire concept of love has become so complicated that we humans have become compelled to treat it rather frivolously. We revel in our cash registers, wine & cheese, and even in massaging our boss’ ego at work. With so much to do, there is little time for love. Add to that the technology we so insanely make love to, and we are left with nothing but an i-Pod in our hands and greed in our hearts. What the heck, our i-Phones today can even sing lullabies for our babies – why do we need worry about true love and compassion?
Let’s step out of the parochial view of love now. Our school textbooks had a pledge printed on the front cover that taught us to love our fellow global citizens. The global love is about as real as a hologram, but we are presently in a situation where we find it hard to love even our own countrymen, or our statesmen, or even our neighbours in the society. It is probably high time we bring down the standards of a good citizen then to the quality of ‘tolerance’, rather than ‘love’. Let us first set up a pledge to be able to tolerate people around us, to not give in to social, regional and religious misgivings, and to build a peaceful world. You never know, a miracle called love might just follow.
Even as I write, I get a call from my parents. And I realize, some relations make you realize that the world is indeed a nice place, and people are nice too if you look at them the right way. Thank God for the seldom felt unspoken love!