An Obligatory Post

Me leaving footprints behind captured by Supernova

It’s the end of the year. Seriously, I don’t know where the year went. I say it every year like almost all of you but this year it is truly true. I swear. Most of it went into the gaping maws of absolutely murderous work schedule and in all my years of working, this is probably the worst. Not because of the work per se but the sheer quantum. I wished for ten more hands, three more brains and twelve more hours in a day.

I am not too much into New Year Resolutions. I never was actually. I can never decide what should I resolve that I could keep. Because it is a promise. And breaking a promise is a little like breaking a heart. Especially when the promise is to yourself.

But I did always expect that I would feel different on the stroke of midnight every 31^st December. As if I would be new. Or my life would be new. As a kid, I expected some kind of magic, a swishing of wand or fairy dust or simply waking up to a new dream. Even through my teenage years as I developed that oh-i-am-grown-up-and-therefore-world-weary air, I still secretly hoped for something new and bright to light up the rest of the year. And I think in some secret part of my weary soul, I still cherish that hope.

To return to the dying year on hand and to be fair to it, 2011 did have its moments:

•  Leaving my footprints in the sand at a Puri beach as I walked towards some unknown beacon
•  India winning World Cup. It was ours. Not my dad’s generation’s.
•  The big family reunion and the madness and fun at Agra
•  The sheer beauty of a misty dawn at Jim Corbett National Park, as we went on a tiger’s trail in an open jeep across a river and saw Bambi instead
• The rolling greens and the tall pine woods of a magical Ranikhet. Here I found the peace and the quiet joy I craved for
• Trip to Latin America. The sight of snow-covered Andes from a plane window. Meandering through the streets of Santiago. Sunday market at Bogota. And an underground wishing well.
• My first Diwali without amma. It felt a little unreal.
• My first trip to London. A lot of mad, mad work and then the exploration and walking and the cold. The history and the mall. And a hope for return.
• Lovely Christmas weekend. Walking through an enchanting Park Street. Santa Clauses beaming from all directions. A canopy of lights to walk under. The infectious joy on the roads. The fun lunch with old friends. The memories and the jokes. Priceless.

I hope that 2012 would also bring such moments for me. Some big. Some small. A forget-me-not a day would suit me just fine.

I hope that 2012 also brings you loads of moments that fill you with happiness and make you feel alive. All the new that you want and all the old that you need. Happy New Year.

Cup of Joy

“1983 was yours”, I told my Dad, as frenzied celebrations erupted all around – on the television screens, in the streets and in the tears that flowed down the cheeks of the Men in Blue. “This is our World Cup.”

And I was not exaggerating. Most of my generation in India were told tales of the historic day in 1983 when Kapil Dev lifted the cricket World Cup. The intensity of these fond remembrances increased once every four years when India participated in yet another World Cup, raised a billion hopes and then faltered.

But no more. The Men in Blue have ensured that the World Cup which came to India to be given to the Champions stayed home. India won and how!!! Though someone had to be a Man of the Match in every battle, it was truly a heroic team effort. It would perhaps have been equally fitting if the Indian team shared these individual awards – there would have been no greater example of how 11 men became one.

It was a brilliant night preceded by one of the more harrowing of evenings for me personally. India started off beautifully and then gave runs generously towards the end of the Lankan innings. And then came the start of the Indian innings. When Sehwag got out, I was still okay and then Sachin got dismissed too. I closeted myself in my room with a book, with music turned on full volume and refused to pay attention to the match, until I was completely sure that we were champs. I do that. I just cannot bear the sight of us losing or playing badly. Call it a lack of sportsmanship. I don’t care. The tension is way too much for me.

I came out just in time to see the last over commence, thanks to the shouts of joy that emanated from the neighbouring buildings and my own brother. And then Dhoni hit that brilliant six to bring home the cup. It was sweet poetic justice. On our way, we beat Australia, knocking them out of the tournament and avenging the humiliating 2003 Final loss. We defeated the arch-rivals Pakistan in style and finally conquered Sri Lanka and laid to rest the ghost of 1996 semi-final in Eden Gardens.

The celebrations began then. And I could just watch in wonder as one by one all these grown men of Indian team lost composure. I will never forget the sight of Sachin Tendulkar being carried around the grounds on the shoulders of his team mates. He was the reason why I began watching cricket and he is one of the reasons why I still watch it. I have never watched a World Cup, in which he has not played. And this was probably his last. It brought a twinge to my joy but what the hell, I thought. His crown is now complete. The dream of the man came true yesterday and the legend had another conquest. Fittingly, one of the youngest members of the team, 22 year old Virat Kohli, paid perhaps the greatest compliment to Sachin when he said, ”This man (Sachin) has carried the burden of this country for 21 years. We can at least carry him.”

World Champs!!!
(Picture Source: NDTV. com)

It was a team which won, however. And not one person. The captain who could not contribute with the bat earlier in the tournament came alive in the final. A warrior who had valiantly fought almost by himself for the better part of two decades, finally had an army to back him. A man whose very selection had led to countless heated debates silenced all the naysayers. The young turks who have so often been berated for the lack of responsibility proved that they are more than capable of carrying the mantle when the legends retire. If that is not the stuff dreams and fairytales are made of, I do not know what is.

Former Indian Test Captain Anil Kumble with World Cup
(Picture source: NDTV.com) 

I read in the newspaper that when Yuvraj Singh and MS Dhoni arrived at the post match press conference, Yuvi jumped on the table and shouted out Badhaiyaan, Badhaiyaan (Congratulation, Congratulations). The inscrutable and imperturbable captain of the Indian team could not help but giggle in delight during the question and answer session. Then, there was this photograph of Anil Kumble being handed over the trophy by Sachin Tendulkar when he went to congratulate his former teammates. That shows how this team has not forgotten those who are no longer part of the team but had a great role to play in bringing the team where it is today.

These are heart-warming pictures of joy that I will always remember. So yes, Dad, this is our World Cup.