The Game of Life...

The Game of Life…

Cricket is in the air! Isn’t it always nowadays? Cricket has forever been a part of my life, though I don’t play it anymore. (I followed the advice of Vijay Merchant who said “Retire when people ask why and not why not”!)

My earliest memory was that it was a simple game of bat-ball which I loved. The ball is an irresistible sphere. I can’t just hold a ball (or an orange for that matter!) and not do anything with it. I have to bounce it, toss it, spin it or throw it against a wall or play catch with someone else in the room. Okay, I am exaggerating …I don’t usually throw an orange on the wall. Even as kids, if my friend or brother was holding a ball, I would get restless and cluck while motioning with my fingers “Abey, ball de na”. If the ball isn’t thrown to me, I used to get withdrawal symptoms like a needle taken away from a drug addict!

The game appeals to my senses. The smell of a cricket ball, which is wet after rolling in the grass, is something I can identify blind folded!  The resounding “Thochackk” of the bat meeting the ball is music to my ears. The sight of a lush green cricket field sprinkled with flannelled fools in white is just so soothing. Then there is this special feeling when your bat touches the ball perfectly and for one brief moment only you know that this is going for a four. And ofcourse the sweet taste of victory!

I am always fascinated by the art of batting. In my opinion, it is the only sporting activity where you commit one mistake and you are gone. Reminds me of my former colleague, Babu (hereinafter to be referred to as ‘The Wise One’) I got back from a Cricket match and he asked me how I did. So I told him that I was batting well, hit a few boundaries and  I went for a drive ,but the ball swung out more than I expected so I nicked it and  got caught in the slips. The Wise one spoke “Kya Uday? Outwala ball ko sambhaal ke khelne ka”

It is unique because it is a team sport with individual performances. There is team work in running between the wickets, fielding and catching but you are alone when you are facing the bowler and bowling to the batsman. You can get out first ball or just bowl one over or may not get to bat or bowl in an entire match. It’s terrible when you go to the ground and then it rains. You will also have to be prepared to be 12^th man and carry drinks. So the commitment to the team is huge and unless you love the whole process, you won’t enjoy playing it.

Though I am known for having a fiery temper on the tennis court, something about cricket always made me play it like a gentleman. 

I have many fond memories but more importantly Cricket has helped me grow as a person and given me lessons for life. It certainly builds character.

Almost any situation in life can have a cricketing analogy. 

Any time I am going through a rough time I tell myself “Just face this over, and don’t throw your wicket. You may be beaten but you aren’t out.”

Year end targets are always ‘slog overs’, a new year is ‘taking fresh guard’. Problems are ‘bouncers and googlies’. Packing up after a day’s work is ‘stumps’ because the test will resume tomorrow. Preparing for something is ‘padding up’.

Cricket, like life, is all about focusing on the present, keeping a calm mind, taking one ball at a time, weathering the tough spells, staying patient ,take that calculated risk and being there for your team. It is also a great leveler. You are only as good as your last innings. If you have your head in the air, you will get out. You have to be confident about your abilities but not arrogant. Ignore the sledging and let your performances do the talking. Approach the game with humility and respect…a lot like life.

The game has evolved and there are certain aspects of the game that I love and some that I don’t, but then again, the only constant in life is change.

I may not be as crazy about the game as I was before but I still love studying it.

For me, it is still a simple game of bat and ball.

As a kid, I felt that Cricket is life, but I now feel that Life is Cricket.

D-day

D -day

It’s exam time in India. Reminds me of the feeling when my kids   have their assessments. It is somehow noticeable in the air. I wonder if scientists have done any research on the uneasy calm that hovers around the house.

It can be felt, it can be sensed, but can it be measured?! Maybe a unit like 'hawa tight/cubic metre?

The kids put on a brave front and the parents alternate between stressing the kids out and calming them. It's like some kind of interval training.

I still have nightmares about my exams and results .I am no Freud but i am quite certain that sitting for a math exam and suddenly unable to answer a single question is one of the most common dreams that people have.

The exams pass by like that but it's the D day which is a pressure cooker situation.
During my school days we received the report card by post, like some kind of letter bomb slid under the door.

Nowadays, my kids get their answer sheets before the report card and one can walk across to school and check the papers and meet the teachers.

On D day the kids are full of that nervous laughter like Kaalia in Sholay after Gabbar says "Teeno bach gaye?!"

As modern parents, we also troop to school along with the kids, constantly giving them assurances with the cliché "Don't worry, it’s only an exam. It’s not the end of the world".

The body language of the other kids and parents is interesting.

I usually wave at the kids whom I know and their response is animated with high fives, but not today. They are making that fateful march with their parents, their response is a muted nod, a hesitant raising of the eyebrow or even a ‘low five’ given with a slight movement of the palm below waist level. Their eyes have a blank stare at a point some 50 metres away and are devoid of any sparkle.

I, personally, don't like comparing my kids marks with others and am just keen that they put in an honest effort and be the best they can be, but I can gauge how the other kids have done by the CPI: the Child Parent Index.

 The kids who have done well trot about a step ahead of their parents and the parents are now waving at me. 

The kids who have done average are having a discussion and lumbering along with their parents in an animated conversation on how some subjects can be improved upon. They are too busy to notice you.

The kids who have not done well are dragging their feet a  few paces behind their parents and their parents are now having that blank but grim look on their faces. They  look back occasionally at the kid with the "Wait till we get home" stare. They are processing a ban list in their mind which start with odd letters like x,i ,w,v and t.
The kids look up from their desolate plod and catch my eye. They are almost pleading that I adopt them right away.

During that long walk back they have mixed feelings of guilt, anger, victimization, remorse and determination. If those feelings were to be put into words, it would look something like this "next time as if but then even Aditya I will do better its not all my fault how will not from syllabus banning help discourage all the time then how other parents so kind you always I promise ..."

But on a more serious note , I feel that we as parents should emphasize that trying, practicing and putting in effort is more important than marks. The resilience to dust yourself and get up and try again is what needs to be ingrained so that they are prepared for setbacks and can rebound from it. Shielding children from this can create a fragile sense of self –worth.

The ability to recover and build again, showing determination and a positive attitude is all we can prepare our children for the many D days ahead.

Down,but not out.

Down, but not out.

We come across all sorts of people in our lives. Some leave an impression and some don’t.

I, personally, seem to have selective memory. I may remember someone I met thirty years ago, the mannerisms, voice, smile or even the birthday, but tend to forget the name or face of someone I met a few days back. You may put that down as signs of ageing, but that’s how it is!

In all of this, we meet people who are polite & courteous or rude & obnoxious, selfish & inconsiderate or kind & generous.

So there is this boy in our apartment. He looks 13 or 14 years old. I see him often & meet him in the lift or in the lobby. I noticed that he is always smiling, his head rocking back and forth, smartly dressed in his school uniform or like a cool teenager on weekends. He is also very popular with the other residents and the drivers who chat up with him and give him high fives.

We have all met those types who, whenever you enter the lift, suddenly find something fascinating on their shoes. Their gaze doesn’t shift from that intriguing pair of shoes. There are others who stare at the display that indicates the floor. They look at it with the same intensity that a space scientist gives to a countdown clock before a rocket launch. But not this boy…

He lights up the lift with his chirpy “Good morning”, announcing that he is ready for school.  Beams proudly and salutes you on days when he is wearing his Boy Scouts uniform. Flashes his colourful sneakers with the unbridled enthusiasm you would expect from a kid with new shoes. And always, without fail, holds the lift door open for others to enter or exit.

One day I saw him wearing one of those fluorescent rubber bands on his wrist, so I told him that it looks so cool. He glanced at my wrist and saw a frayed black thread and asked me what that was? I said that it’s tied by my grandmother after praying and wishing me good health. He shrugged and said straight away “Oh! Then yours is better than mine”.

One evening, I was returning late from work. I met this boy in the lift. He wished me, as usual, and said “Good evening Uncle, you seem to have had a very long day. You look tired. I think you should have a nice hot shower, some dinner and get some sleep!” I nodded and smiled at his observation and advice and thought…

“He is a nice, polite, sensitive kid….A nice, polite, sensitive kid with Down Syndrome...”

Makes me wonder…

What goes on in his brain? How does he perceive things? What challenges does he face every day? What’s his future? Where does he get that spirit and energy? What makes him smile?

What can we learn from him?

We always seem to want more than what we have but who would want one more Chromosome 21?

He is special, without doubt, and he maybe down, but not out.

P.S.

I was not sure whether I should share this piece, so I met the boy’s father and showed what I had written about his son. He read it and said that he was very happy that his son made such an impression on me with his attitude and conduct. He chatted with me and said with a smile “When my son was born, he looked scary, but the doctors said that if you interact with him, give him love and be happy then even his features will change gradually!”  I started off writing this as a tribute to the boy, but I now realize that I need to bow to his parents as well.