The story of Yuvraj Singh! Of destiny, greatness and expectations!

He was a rich man's son. In fact his father was a Indian cricketer himself! His father had made him a cement pitch with nets at his home in Chandigarh. He practised cricket at his home under the watchful eyes of an Indian fast bowler early in his childhood. Not many could afford that. In fact I have not heard of any.

He was the destiny's child. I mean, he was destined for greatness. In fact it would have been surprising had he not made it big in cricket. He had the natural flair. He had that swagger, didn't he? He could hit the most outrageous shot and make it look ridiculously easy. He is the only player who has hit a genuinely fast bowler for six consecutive sixes in this planet. Why only six consecutive sixes? Coz, Stuart Broad bowled only six balls in that over.  Yuvi was that good.

Did the destiny's child achieve what he was destined to achieve? Is playing 300 games an achievement for this outrageous talent? 

Well, the first three paragraphs looked rosy, isn't? How we wish life is like that? A bed of roses! Just the roses, without the thorns! Like an Indian road without the pothole! Oxymorons, aren't they? Roses without thorns. Indian roads without potholes. It just does not happen

And so were there, the thorns and the potholes, for Yuvi and his life as well. His parents separated. The stability of the family is lost. Sometimes I think his talent got to him. I mean, since he was outrageously talented, he played the careless shots. It happens. He had his distractions, which every rich kid in India had! And he had CANCER.

Believe me, that disease is dreadful. That can kill; Mentally, physically, emotionally! I have seen it first hand. 

Yes, Yuvi was destined to play 300 games. But the nurse who brought him to his mother on the day he was born did not bring another plate with 300 ODI games. He had to fight through life, with all the thorns and potholes to get what he was destined to. 

Yuvraj's life is a lesson for me personally in that, even the most incredibly talented individuals, people for whom life has given most things in a platter, will really have to put in as much effort as the guy for whom life was difficult, to achieve in the biggest of theatres. 

In a world which celebrates only 'rags to riches' story, this guy's story should also be told, for it is not easy to achieve what was already expected of you; For expectations can be a dampeners!

Rafa - The greatest athlete of this millenium!

Ten best shots of Roger Federer or the ten best goals of Lionel Messi on YouTube are dumbfounding.  Google them.They are a thing of beauty. You know for sure they cannot be replicated. They are one in a billion. Genius is the word to describe them!

Sometimes we are dazzled by the Genius, since they transcend us from the monotony. From the pain and the suffering. Like a Michael Angelo painting. Like Mozart on the keys. We are made to forget the daily rumblings of the humankind and takes us to the seventh heaven, the state of intense happiness and bliss! The Sachin Tendulkar straight drive, the Michael Jordan air time, a Tiger woods Putt, a Usain Bolt dash! That is what makes sport the greatest live entertainment available.

Yet, there are others who also enthral. Not because of their greatness but by the sheer ability to conquer the mind and will your way to the top. They come across as ordinary human beings, like you and me. The 'WOW' factor is often missing. They huff and puff; They revel in the monotony. They sweat. Fail. Lose. Fail again. Sweat more. Fall down. Get back again. And do it one more time. Till the mind wins the battle. The unforgiving sport has a place for them also.

When Sachin was doing his art, on the other side the great Rahul Dravid often stuttered and stopped. The cover drives often went to the fielder. The boundary balls were not belted. Yet, often at the end of it all, Dravid stood still. The shirt drenched in sweat. The eyes gleaming. Concentration intact. The man in a trance.

Rafael Nadal is of the Dravid ilk. You hit him to death, he will wake up eyes open. He will run down every ball, every game in every set. Till death does him apart.

Rafa does not have the wicked Andy Murray backhand or the Wawrinka forehand. He does not float around like Federer nor sting like Djokovic. Yet he wins! And he has won the physically most demanding grand slam a record ten times. Ten times! In the modern era, I doubt anybody can ever break this record.

That, makes me think he is the greatest athlete of the millenium. For an athlete, the greatest achievement is to maximise whatever was given; And in the physically demanding world of modern generation sport, to conquer the mind and by that conquest, conquering the world is the greatest of athlete.

And no doubt, Rafa is the greatest athlete this side of the twenty first century.

On being independent!

I was brought up to be extremely independent. I mean, in class VI when I joined our school I went alone for the admissions as my dad was busy and told me he will join but could not. In fact, my dad wanted us to be independent that by class 3 we were made to cycle to school 3 Kms from our house.

Suddenly one fine day I decided IT industry is not to my liking and decided to work in a remote place in interor Assam, and not once there was an opposition from my parents! They seconded the notion. Then suddenly my maniacal brain decided to pursue civil service and I'm on my own again. Went to Delhi, walked around, searched for homes, joined classes after enquiring people in the civil services belt! Everything on my own. Without knowing a word of Hindi.

And when I see parents going behind children, it sometimes amuses me! When parents decide where and how and why certain things be done, in a certain way, at a certain time, especially after your school and college days, it irks me as well.

I personally think, we learn life by failing. by being confused; by questioning; by being cheated upon; by learning to trust; by treading carelessly, and falling down; then getting up and falling down again; by burning your fingers; by being lazy; by walking on four legs; by having your face tarred; by facing the giants and getting beaten; by losing hope and trust and belief;

And finally getting up and facing it! Facing life!

I completely understand the need to show the way, the need to correct the path and the importance of being there when the ward is down.

Yet I think, there is this thin line, of being unobtrusive and yet being there, of letting them learn on their own yet making sure they are on the right track, of letting them live their own dreams and yet making sure the dreams don't hurtle down slippery slope.

Why should there be a line? Should there be a line at all? Where do we hold hands and when do we leave them on their own? Does holding hands more than necessary hurt the wards growth? Do they impede happiness?

Ah, the greyishness of my questions!How I wish there are clear white and black answers.

India - Pak and cricket!

India vs Pakistan! A warm Sunday afternoon. Wife on duty. Nobody else to disturb. What else do you want?  My mind went wavering in to the past. Of all the India - Pak legacies which had been part of my life.

So, for my generation cricket started of with the 1996 world cup. Who can forget the Ajay Jadeja onslaught on Waqar younis and of course the famous Aamir Sohail - Venkatesh Prasad incident. Didn't we all show Aamir the way to the dressing room on that glorious night as Prasad did?

Do you guys remember the Independence day Saeed Anwar special? I almost killed my brother in an fit of anger since Inzamam kept going after Saeed. Oh! Who can forget the Rajesh Chauhan six to win a one day match. We all had tears in the eyes, didn't we?

Few can forget the test match loss against Pakistan when Sachin clutching his back and misread a saqlain doosra? Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Shoaib Akthar running in gave me chills in the spine then. And then the Kanitkar special? The long hours of discussion we had on the day after the kanitkar boundary?

2003 World cup game! I wrote a board exam the next day and remember every single shot played by the God of Cricket, Sachin Tendulkar.That sparkling cover drive of Wasim Akram of the first ball of the chase and the huge six of Shoaib. Phew! Typing them give me goose bumps.

Who will not remember the T-20 world cup final? In the aiiiirrr, Sreeeessaaanttthhh, takes it, India win, those Ravi Shasthri's words still ring in my mind. And then the most important match of it all. The world cup semifinal of 2011. Wahabs pace and Raina's straight hitting made that day.

Sure, Pakistan is not the same anymore. Never did I think I will say this, but India's fast bowling attack looks better than the paki's for once. The fizz of the Pakistani middle order is missing. The stability of a Misbah or the sheer presence of an Inzamam is not there. But this is India - Pakistan. The mother of all cricket.

I'm ready for another thriller. Are you?