Monthly Archives: November 2013


“Maut toh naam se badnaam hai, warna zindagi bhi kamm gham thori na deti hai.”

It is a very awkward thing to know what makes one’s life happy. Poor and rich, both have failed. And thus, life hasnt been spared by anyone. Its cursed all over, very rarely realized how prized a possession it is. And cursed the best at the hands of the poets and authors whose metaphors and similes seem countless in an attempt to explain ‘life.’ One of those attempts by Selma Lagerlöf, is the best I have ever read —- the whole world with its lands and seas, its cities and villages—was nothing but a big rat trap. It had never existed for any other purpose than to set baits for people. It offered riches and joys, shelter and food, heat and clothing, exactly as the rat trap offered cheese and pork, and as soon as anyone let himself be tempted to touch the bait, it closed in on him, and then everything came to an end.

Not as much to curse it, this shall be my attempt to explain ‘life.’

Sands. The same abundance as life. The realization that they were always there, but it was so late to find meaning in them, quiet similar are sands to life.

Sands, near the sea.
“Kitna bhi sammet le yaha, aakhir mei chhoot hi jaata hai.” One can gather all the sand he can, but still, he cannot gather all. Life always ends at an incomplete note. One can try and squeeze all from life, but there will still be things left behind. There’s the one loophole in the hand, from where keeps falling the sands we have gathered. What we’ve gathered, what we’ve achieved are not permanent.And then, the sea going back and coming again and each time, taking the sands with them. How appropriate to explain that component which is so inevitable to life: Loss. The sea separates the sands which were always held together. Loss co-exists with life.




Sands, in the desert.
The desert seems endless. Heat burning its dunes. Sand dunes and only sand dunes. There are no ends. Hardships seem endless, and there are times when there are no ways out. “There it is. The lake is there.” When you draw close, like spellbound are the deserts, as there’s no water now. Mirage, highlight of the masked realities in life. Temporary happiness, leads us to wrong direction only to starve us later. But then there are traces which are hard to find alike success in life. There are trails to Oasis.

sandtimeSands, in the glass.
From one chamber to another, sands in the glass are sands of time. Life vs Time. One of those races, where the winner is definite, though life shall race against, with all its might. Sands slipping down, fast diminishing from one chamber, but still difficult to gauge how much will it actually last. With end drawing close, life is a play at the hand of uncertainties. Glass can be turned over, to live through the countdown again, like new life nurtures only to be a part of the same race.
And the same glass is turned over. Life doesn’t give that lemon.

“If you want to leave a mark on the sands, do not drag your feet”
You only live once. Run free on sands. The abundance is yours for living.



Toothpaste isnt over till we squeeze out every bit of it. The remote shall work till the last beating it got, did not make it work. We are in a country, obsessed with non-retirement. We have grown up to only see the same politicians’ hair grow white. Certainly, retirement seems to not be fitting in our dear subcontinent. Certainly not fitting, if it is of a person who plays the sport, which we enjoy as a religion and one who the whole nation idolizes as an icon, as a sportsperson, as God. The fact that the roles he is idolized for doesnt end here, makes him rise above all. I am not very dear to statistics to remember his records. History isnt good too, to remember which of his performances stand out. But I do remember, when he broke the test record of Sunil Gavaskar for most centuries. That knock, he says, he dedicates to his father. That day, the nation idolized a son. The day when India won the world cup and his two children were on his side, maybe not that day obviously, but someday later the nation idolized a proud father. The day he gave his farewell speech, particular of not missing anyone, the nation idolized a true human being. Irony is that we still called him god.

I am not any cricket expert to comment on how well Sachin used to play, but for one fact that those spontaneous claps or the sudden “Shot!” and “Waah!” were the most prevalent when he batted. And i’m not any cricket expert still. But all i know is that the time since i’ve started following cricket, its been a habit to watch him. Atleast to see him on the scorecard. Then when he walked in with the MRF bat, he gave all of us, kids, a reason to aspire to be a cricketer. And now when i am seventeen, in those gully crickets which i play, i may play the cover drive well and then to my own satisfaction, i am content that it was like his.

Tweets have been pouring in, the newspaper columns do not put an end to his farewell, everybody has been so expressive. This is my first attempt. And, I do not know how to express or justify that why the heart cries joy at his straight drive, more than it does any other cricketing shot from any other cricketing bat. His Majesty. His Magnanimity, such that i have only seen him play ten years and I know how much of a masterclass he is, while my father keeps narrating me incidents of the 90s. And i will never envy him more for any other reason, but only that he was there at the Edens for the Hero Cup match. India vs South Africa. The midas touch of his on the deuce ball helping with Gold for India. And I hear people talk about Sharjah, and remembering his innings by years, by places, by numbers but for me, he brought out the meaning of the game in the ten years that i saw him.

Terror for a bowler, threat for any team, 22 yards’ favourite disciple all move into oblivion.
He came. He saw. He conquered. He retired young. His life between these 22 yards over these 24 years shall forever be etched. Somewhere around those yards, when Indian team be playing, you will try and seek for the number 10, but… in vain. And when you wont find him, you will realize that it wasnt just a cheer, it was joy, it was hope, it was magic.
“Sachiiiin… Sachin”

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Thank you. Thank you.




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