ASHES

Chokers

Diwali came and went, I never realized that there was festival. Not that I am generally interested in festivals too much, but to see other people enjoy is also a good sight. I was with my parents somewhere in the foothills of Himalaya…actually himachal…sight seeing. The only good part of the trip was when I was driving the car in the beautiful whether, not much else was fascinating. On the night of diwali when the celebration is maximum I went off to bed by 11.30 after reading a couple of chapters from my book.

A few days earlier I was switching channels when I came across a doordarshan documentary on Pt. Bhimsen Joshi. For those who may not have heard his name, he is a classical singer of repute. I don’t remember which gharana he belongs to, but there was a time in my life when I used to get up to his voice. My father is an avid fan of his and would put his songs every morning because he knew that would irritate us and make us leave our beds. It used to work. So when I came across the documentary I heard some songs which reminded me of those innocent times of my childhood. I never liked a word of bhimsen joshi then, I didn’t understand much either. On my way to gurgaon my current residence next morning I started humming that song and I surprisingly I remembered quite a few words. All these images of my childhood and those irritating mornings with me and my sister being scolded by mom and irritated by dad to get up went through my mind. I realized what a wonderful time it was, when someone else was responsible for making you turn up at your work. The feeling overwhelmed me and I could feel the tears at the back of my eyes, to the point that I could not sing the song anymore or else would have started crying. It’s the kind of feeling you get when you hear the national anthem, I have always felt proud and emotional about the national anthem and have fealt it at the back of my eyes always.

Coming back to my book, if you remember I had bought a book called ‘Indian Summers’ by John wright. The former Indian coach has written with great passion which he showed in his stint as the coach. It was amazing to read an account of our country cricket structure and how it is plagued by politics, red tapism, corruption and at times gundagardi. Some of the chapters seemed straight from the heart. For someone like me who has practically lived his teenage trying to answer weird questions on the behalf of the Indian team to my family, friends and others it was nice to hear that there is some light at the end of the tunnel. The book time and again spark desires inside me to start playing full time cricket and represent the country one day. Ofcourse he talks about putting things in perspective a lot of times which helps me put things in to perspective. But when John Wright wrote the story of how Indian players fight their way to the top and how some are left out for no reason brought tears to my eyes. How selection politics has deprived India of a good team is something that ached me, John Wright was a right man in the wrong place perhaps. But he made a difference to the people of India. Now he has made a difference to me personally. If he somehow reads this blog I would like to thank him for being a great coach.

Next up for me is a biography on Rahul Dravid, the man who to me is the manifestation of whatever I believe is the spirit of cricket - passion, devotion, skill, temperament, commitment and above all discipline and humility. A great batsman, and a wonderful asset to the team. I hope that one would not have a sad ending.
Well it’s a little late now, time to go to bed and head to office tomorrow for primary research. Good heavens when will those have a sad ending!