The Record! By GOD Himself

Chasing milestones

I do not know if India will win this contest. Quite honestly, I do not even need to know. All that lingers in my imagination right now is the smiling and content face of Sachin Tendulkar giving his first post 100th century interview to Ramiz Raja and saying something remarkably simple and remarkably true.

"Chase your dreams."

The Master Blaster, who now is aptly dubbed the Azeem-o-Shaan Shehenshah of the Cricket Cosmos, is a national inspiration- least to say. And the only thing he had to share with a nation of a billion people who prayed for this moment fervently was simple aphorism. Chase your dreams. Simply because, dreams are meant to be chased. Remembering with humility his long wait of 22 years to hold in his hands the first World Cup India could call its own, Sachin delivered a gazillion sixes right to the heart of his frenzied worshipers. Here is a living legend, who said he had a dream, but also had the indispensable patience, perseverance, diligence and dedication to go after those dreams till the moment they came true. And come true, they did. A nervous, praying, fast breathing world was witness to it. I've lived the moment, I wish to cement it in my memory forever.

A friend of mine is walking down to Ugrasen Ki Baoli, not particularly in a mood to celebrate, since this ton came against Bangladesh, who until recently were tagged cricketing minnows. The skeptics, as always, are around, digging reasons as to why today should not be Sachin's day, or more simply- Sachin Day. The fanatics are out too, relaunching with fervour their campaign to demand Bharat Ratna for Sachin. What do I think? I only think of that man, that greatness personified, and the kind of thoughts that will be flashing through his head. I placated my friend by quoting a tweet- "Worry not, Pakistan ko 101 ka shagun de denge", but honestly, who cares! It was important that this ton come against a nation like Bangladesh, because for all reasons one might find to belittle the very God of Cricket, one must not forget it is his very first ODI century against Bangladesh. Before reaching his 100th hundred, Sachin also glided past another milestone, that of maximum number of fours in ODIs. The Little Master has now struck 2000 fours in one days, trailing behind him is Jayasuria, with only 1500 to his name.

All these jazzy facts are but only a few entries into the whole record book that Sachin has gifted us with. The fact that he still maintains his composure with grace and amiability only goes onto add sheen to his accepted greatness. What happened today is no mean feat. A record par excellence it shall forever remain. When I saw his picture in yesterday's tabloids with his iconic mop of curly hair styled out into a suave new tuft of straightened hair, the man, as said the fashion experts, looked a whole five years younger. To the self proclaimed Cricket Gurus, today he proved that not just in his looks, but also in his strength and skill in cricket, he is a young-brave-heart. The Master feels as if a load of 50 kilos has been lifted off his shoulders. In a nation's eyes, he flies high. He does not need anyone's approval, or decorations. He was, is and shall remain The God Of Cricket. Today, as a nation we party. And why not, the Cricketing God himself has united us.

(Written with emotions gushing inside me. That is what his greatness can do to you)

Into Dreaminess and Back

It was an evening quite like today. The scent of the wet earth still lingered in the air. Yesterday, rain was the devil. It had in it's power to destroy what was going to be the most memorable day in the life of this bride But today, the rain humbly withdrew from the limelight. Today's star was going to be this girl, sitting pretty with her hand in his', still counting her heartbeats. In those heart beats she was counting time till when she would finally becomes his', when she can  would finally drop carelessly into his arms.

That night, was her night. I was lost somewhere in the grand crowd of eager faces, each of whom smiled for her happiness and comfort. I did too. It was an evening like today. The musty breeze seemed to be my only companion. I had come wishing for her happiness, but in that crowd, I had found myself to be terribly lonely. It was only the bride's face which was familiar. Rest were unpleasantly strange. My imaginations were running amok. Someday, in near, yet distant future, I shall also adorn a pedestal much like her's. To a sprawling acreage of lush greens, I shall also be the shimmering queen.

But for that day, I was lonely. In the unending multitude of heartbreakingly unfamiliar faces, I only had the naughty breeze for company, which also devoted attention to tickling the ribs of small bright lanterns suspended from each tree in the magically illuminated garden. That naughty, musty breeze might have remained my only companion had fate not been in a playful and yielding mood.

Tired searching for a soul warming cup of coffee from the mad array of exotic delicacies competing for attention, I could finally locate a near empty table which seemed friendly enough to accommodate me. I did notice a lone male figure occupying the seat across my own, but that his features would be breathtakingly gorgeous, I had not expected. Had I even meekly expected, I would have stayed away. A dreamy romantic and a hapless single are a lethal combination for a girl who suddenly finds herself in such a titillating zone. Boredom also plays its role in necessitating a leap of heart in thinking "now begin the bright times".

Was I crazy when I shared the first smile? I promise, I did not do it knowingly. His beaming, spotless face evoked a smile in my heart, which promptly ran to my lips. He smiled back. Effortlessly. No, eagerly. This, because, as I later realized, he was my male counterpart at feeling lonely in the deluge of people. Like me, he knew no one else. Like me, he had no company. Like me, may be he too needed someone like me. Yes!

The conversation began with pleasantries. It moved onto polite inquiries.  Name. Occupation. Weather. Food. Ambiance. The bride. The groom. The match. Back to occupation. And then, inevitably, life. Why I said inevitably? Because a part of me told me it would. He had small eyes, hidden behind rimless glasses, which became smaller when he smiled. He never stopped smiling. Consequently, my once sombre face too, did not stop smiling. Worries about reaching home early dissipated into the cold air as I concentrated on how dapper his black suit over a black shirt looked. Did I say dapper? Casually graceful would be more like it.

I am not a shy talker. I must've been talking a lot. I might have said something which made him remark- "You know, sometimes, its just fair that we count our blessings. Those lines of worry which crease your face will disappear in a nano second then." I did not know why he said this, but that is when I kind of came back to senses. What seemed titillating till now was seeming genuinely nice and warm. There was something about his happy countenance; he made me want to smile. It sounds mad, but it also made me want to show my sadness, for he seemed like someone who could still make me smile. There was an enormous amount of positivity radiating from him. What most soothed a nervous girl's heart most was that he was not being kind to me. He prized my chance company as much as I did his'. And this I know, because he was not interested to even look up when bride and groom readied themselves to command attention from each pair of eyes as they exchange the garlands of sacred flowers. He would have much rather continued the conversation, but I did not want to miss one of my favorite rituals from a traditional Hindu wedding.

I stood there, watching them lovingly garland each other. I loved the clandestine glances stolen. I loved the delirious applause filling my ears. I loved seeing her turn red as he claimed her hand back into his. I loved all this, and yet, I wanted to get back to that one conversation which I knew would ease me through the dreariness awaiting with open arms at home. Somewhere, in the middle of that celebratory commotion, I was commanded to head to the gate. My car awaited me. It was late. And I am a girl. A nervous tingle on my spine saw me running to the gate after saying a quick and polite bye. Nervous. I did not think of it earlier, but how many people had seen me laugh and joke and talk with this virtually strange guy in this crowded, yet lonesome place?

On my way back home, I felt silly for feeling all that I did. Sweet silly. I felt grossly silly for not knowing why I did not exchange numbers with him. We had clicked decently well, it would not even have been awkward. No regrets, facebook is the great savior of today. All I need to know about anyone to permanently invite him into my life is his name. I knew his'.

At night, a night like today, with chill pricking at my bare arms, as I sat with facebook friend finder open in front of me, I decided against 'finding' him. He was the perfect stranger. Straight out of books and poems I had read and fantasized about. He will only remain the perfect stranger if I abandon my pursuit. Meeting new people, good people, people who survive only as fond memory, is a dreamy concept in retrospect. I like the dreaminess of it  I closed that chapter there. Now I only revisit the pages when the blur in my memory turns inviting.

PS-Few days back, he 'added' me. I cursed facebook for interfering with my dreams from the past. Did I add him too? Well, I still am a nervous romantic and a hapless single. Should I?

Balancing

If you are incapable of tears, you will become incapable of laughter. A man of laughter is also a man of tears- then a man is balanced. They both go together. And out of this togetherness of polarities a balanced being is formed.

I have with me a screen shot of my success from about half a year ago. I also have with me a screen shot of a success my name does not feature in. In other words, I have with me a screen shot of my failure. A moment back, I was looking at them together, hoping for some divine vision to alight upon me. None did. I shut both the screen shots, and started laughing. The last I checked, that laughter was genuine.

Three days ago, I was crying. What could have been one of the most important days of my life had turned out badly. I was not able to shine in the one exam I pinned my future hopes on. Cry, I did. In fact, I wailed. But that, I was supposed to. I did not cry because I felt depressed. I cried because a castle that could be had just gone poof. And I could do nothing now to make it real. 

There is only an extent till which we can try; and try we must. With honest and diligent efforts behind me, the tears did not last for long. In fact, some sudden alacrity filled me. Now that this one door had closed, that too not forever, I had with me the opportunity to explore numerous others. Also, I could sense in me an urge to undertake shorter trips on hitherto avoided destinations which my dreams are made of. Stronger resolve, greater hunger. And a smile of my face. 

I always feared failure. I think I feared the ignominy associated with it. I also feared assimilating myself and standing up all over again. The same is now giving me a reason to look ahead with brightness. As one of my friends said, " I am glad you did not peak so soon." I, too, am glad I did not. With no major disappointments in my arsenal, I felt if I was equipped enough to be by my own in the world out there. Continued success makes people risk averse, so quoted Namita Bhandare in yesterday's HT. Even when I was not looking, answers were coming my way.

The tears have now lived their life. The smile and excitement are increasingly becoming subdued. The resolve to turn it around for myself is maturing steadily. Now is not the end. Now is the time to begin.

Protected?!

Protecting her?

Was that the plan?

To nourish, to cherish,

To save from the evil man?

The endless sky

"Dangerous to fly!”

Wide crystal water

"Fatal to enter!”

Inviting golden desert

"Treacherous mounds of dirt!”

Morbid confines of home

"Your haven, your zone!”

So, Protecting her

Was that the plan?

I'm sorry you failed

She’s at best – Jailed!

 

 "You thought I was protected

Cradled in sound slumber?

I was shushing my heart from dreaming

Beating it to sheen-less amber"

Tagged!

Yayyiiieee! So after watching with 'green' envy all my favorite bloggers receive not one, but upto a dozen "The Varsatile Blogger" Awards, I finally manage to get my own. Without much ado, I will simply follow the rules concomitant to this award, which are-

The Rules:
1. Thank the person who nominated you for the award
2. Nominate 15 other bloggers and inform them of the same
3. Share 7 Random facts about yourself
4. Add the Versatile Blogger Award picture to your Blog Post

 

#1 Gratitude

A humbly uttered and heartfelt gratitude to a blogger whom I have really come to admire in the recent past. Jyoti Babel, who writes at Pages, is one of the best reviewers and culinary experimentalist I have come across. Her blog is always a treat to go through. Since I cannot cook to even save my life, I hope to mug up Jyoti's recipes by heart before the prospect of my marriage starts looming in front of my eyes. Given that a blogger of Jyoti's caliber has tagged me as a Versatile Blogger, the significance of the tag increases manifold.

#2 New Set Of 'The Versatile Blogger' Awardees

Now, this is the most difficult bit. I have been asked to nominate 15 bloggers, but to call someone 'versatile' is a huge responsibility. Many blogs I follow ascribe to a particular type of content, which the bloggers seem to have a proven mastery over, scarce venturing out of their comfort zones. I will, hence, mention only 5 blogs and bloggers, who in my view justify the definition of 'versatility'.

Anup Bishnoi at Grass On Fire

Aavika Dhanda at Nirvana

Achint Mathur at Aman Ki Aasha

Aakriti at Yarn of Words

Anshul Thakur at Aesthetic Blasphemy 

Yes, I know I am repetitive in terms of the bloggers I place topmost on my blog roll, but then, these are the ones I am incorrigibly hooked onto. The five I mentioned here have a peculiarity- each one of them has their initial as 'A'. Only a random coincidence. As I stumble on more blogs of significance, I will keep augmenting to this list. 

#3 Seven Random Things About Myself

1. I love giving and receiving gifts.

2. I am a recent twitter addict and I love to play on the trending twitter topic.

3. Writing reviews of books is a fond hobby and there are more chances I will end up appreciating a book than denouncing it. 

4. Sufi songs and ghazals are my most preferred genres of music.

5. I am a decently good singer. In fact, at a time I aspired to cut an album of my own. Childhood dreams, left amid the glory of childhood only.

6. Caffeine is the only sinful addiction I admit to. May be, chocolates are my second most sinful attachments.

7. Ruskin Bond is one author I have romanticized throughout my life.

I wrote a similar list for my first ever blog award, which can be glanced through here- The 7X7 Link Award

#4 Picture

Already added above.

Once again, thanks Jyoti! I only hope that in the coming days I only become a better and better writer, and Nascent Emissions becomes a blog more and more readers are able to find their own reflection in.

Dancing For Real

With the Masterchef India Season 2 drawing towards a finale, I was fearing that my weekends will now acquire a dull hue. Not to be. At the perfect moment was launched the third installment of Dance India Dance, indubitably India's finest and most loved dance reality show. Whether the simplistic original, the cute children's special or the recent doubles- I have followed each episode of all these three variations with frenzied devotion, much to the chagrin of my not-so-enthusiastic-about-dance family members.

Geeta 'Ma'

I carry a little spirit of a dancer in myself. I am not trained, neither very nimble on my feet, yet I can pull off Odissi and Bharatnatyam performances with deceptive ease if I stick to the basics. Learning ballet was a childhood dream, lost sight of in childhood itself. Folk was masti embodied in music, spilling over easily to flamboyant yet graceful dance movements. Dancing for me was like talking to the flowing wind, smiling at almost nothing, and a medium for expressing angst and resentment for things not fine in life. During school time, dancing was perhaps my only workout, the absence of which is my college years was visible in the pounds piling on around my tummy. Eschewing my attachment to each single distinctly remembered performance, I can safely claim that I was happiest when I performed a musical drama as a protagonist beleaguered by the conflict between inner and superficial beauty. My mentor combined elements of puppet dance, jazz and contemporary to create a performance which was lauded and remembered for days to come.

Remo D'Souza- "Gabbar"

Anyway. So today concluded the Mega Auditions of the show ruling my mind, DID Season 3, with the selection of top 18. These have been divided into teams of six to be mentored by three choreographers who are now cult figures- Geeta Kapoor, Terence Lewis and Remo D'Souza. While Geeta Kapoor, more famous as the often jested about sobriquet of Geeta 'Ma', claims all my predilection, it is Remo Ke Rangeele who seem poised to become the favorites once the Gala Round kickstarts on next weekend.

Terence 'stylish' Lewis

For those of us who ridicule dance as a long term career option or write it off as at best a hobby, the auditions of DID Seasons 3 provided some nice background stories to convince us towards a fresher perspective on dance. True, melodramatic flashes into the personal plights of contestants may be a put off when the competition is in full swing and the vote count critical. But during the audition stage, it is these documentaries shot about the personal lives of the contestants which add just enough zing to keep me glued to the television set even during repeat telecasts of the show.

The top five stories which I will try and remember from the auditions of DID Season 3.

1. Furkan- This is a story from the neighbourhood. Uttam Nagar's Furkan is an auto driver's son who earns a daily stipend of Rs. 70 by volunteering for trafiic management of haywire West Delhi roads. Since financial situations at home are bleak, it is from this stipend that Furkan manages to fulfill his needs, primary among which are videos he procures to learn dance. And when this boy comes on stage looking lost, nervous, unsure, but pulls of an astounding Robotics performance wittily choreographed to "Teri tirchhi nazar ne..", you are forced to sit up and take notice.

2. Raj- He comes from Ranchi, has no formal training, but different to most like him who lack a Guru, he does not even have the privilege of watching videos and aping them to train himself. He just has music, an enthusiastic heart which gives him a sense of rhythm, and a talented mind from which originate smart and hilariously entertaining choreography. He couldn't survive the tough DID competition, but upon being eliminated, all he sought was a chance to see his huge portrait decorating the background once to his heart's content. Him, I hope to see again in the next season.

3. Mohina- Or I should say Princess Mohina Singh of the Kingdom of Riva, Madhya Pradesh. One of the few happy stories from the auditions. My reading on royal women informs me of the added restrictions on their movement (and flight) for they carry on themselves the burden of royalty, with izzat and maryada as the ruling keywords. But this princess broke free, and with what charm! Besides her talent, what was heartwarming was to see her father in the background, informing the audience of their traditions, yet standing behind his daughter as she set out to pursue her passion.

4. Pradeep Gurung- When this lad from Guwahati performed an air cartwheel with stylish ease, I stared at the television set in disbelief. He runs a successful dance school back home, but his insistence on making a career out of dance won him disfavor with his mother. He had to move out, has not met his mother in years, misses her, but knows in his heart that if he is able to attain success while following his passion, it is his mother who would be the happiest and proudest of him. His audition performance was dedicated to his mother. Touching. Amazing.

5. Neerav- He was Terence Lewis' assistant in the first two seasons of DID. He participated in this year's auditions without informing his mentor to whom apparently he is really attached. He had wanted to participate earlier, but being the bread winner for his family, continuing with a stable income had been an unspoken mandate on him. This season he felt he was at ease, but some awkward, surprise filled glimpses from his stunned mentor were enough to lead to copious tear showers on the set. His dance was just about okay, but his story, quite compelling.

Pradeep and Mohina are the only ones who have made it to the final leg of the show. I have picked my favorites, but am waiting for the curtain raiser of the gala round to be sure of people I will be rooting for. Until then, I'll keep irritating my folks with this revived penchant for dancing.
:)