It's a Wonderful Life

I've completed the 'IMDB Top 250' challenge twice. Since the past 15 years, I've rated every movie on IMDB. In this wonderful journey, I've come across some pretty stellar movies.

It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is one such movie. It deals with the character of James Stewart who is about to end his own life. The heavens decide to intervene, and send an angel to stop him from doing that. The angel takes him back in time to show an alternate universe of how different (and wretched) things would have been for people around him, had he not been a part of their world.  He is made to realise how he has touched all their lives in such a wonderful way, either wittingly or unwittingly. 

In real life, the heavens will not always intervene - not directly. It is left upon us to play the part of the angel. A certain event recently had left me deeply unsettled. We are in the last few days of Mental Health Awareness Month, and I have been meaning to write something since a few weeks. Perhaps, just like the actions we can do to help our near and dear ones, this blog is better off being late than never. 

Mental illness is just like any physical ailment. It makes the brain react to situations in a manner which may be different to how a healthy brain would have. And just like most physical ailments, it can be cured too. The greatest road block for mental illness is the taboo associated with it, which prevents people from seeking help, or which restricts the resources available to them.

A number greater than we would like to imagine is affected by it in various forms and degrees. We should talk about it, and seek help. The brain can be conditioned to help weed out various behaviours and thoughts. This can be done through self-help, discussions (I cannot emphasise enough about the importance of the unwitting discussions), or professional intervention. For starters, we should acknowledge its existence, and treat it like what it is – a curable disease. There is a whole industry dedicated to it, and for most cases we have our friends and family. Share. Talk. Support.

The movie in the title ends with a line from the angel to the character of James Stewart: 'No Man is a Failure Who Has Friends'. Perhaps we should realise that things aren't always as bad as we perceive them to be, and we are not always alone – there is always somebody out there. Perhaps we should all try to be a friend here for the people who need it, even if they might not realise it. 

After all, it IS a wonderful life!!!

 

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RIP Swati Ma'am

 Swati Ma'am had taught me Maths and Physics. And so much about Life and Living. 

She would often encourage me to write more often. And today, as I sit near the laptop to try and give shape to so many thoughts that are swirling in my mind, it is because she is no more with us.

I'm as devastated and shocked as all of you who have known her, and as much at a loss, at her pre-mature departure. Even in times where most news has been negative news, this one is the abyss, and has broken me in a way I could never have imagined. 

She was the best teacher you could ever hope to find, a great cook, and most importantly, she had the kindest heart ever. 

Despite having taught thousands of students, she had a personal connect with each of them. She took a personal interest in all their lives, and remembered everything about them. Remembering (and nurturing) love lives was her forte. Hell, she even knew about me and Gunjan, perhaps even before we did. 

One will find her comment in every post of her student - she always tried to keep in touch with every body. 

Shock and devastation gives way to so many wonderful memories in her company. Memories of the silly games we played in her tuitions, the treats, the gossips, the agony aunt sessions, the motivational speeches, and not to forget her teachings. 

Warm, fun-loving, kind, empathetic, genius, witty are few of the adjectives which would aptly describe her. 

If ever there is a person who fits the bill of 'friend, philosopher, and guide', it is her. 

Ma'am, wish you had not left us so soon. You have no idea how many lives you have touched in a wonderful way. Your departure is unfair. Wish I had kept in touch more. But I pray that you find peace wherever you are. 

Will always remember you wearing that wonderful smile. You will be missed, always. 

Om Shanti. 

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A New Strain of Hope Mutates

 <Written after India’s 2-1 victory over Australia today, but much of the feelings and the blog would have been the same even if we would not have won>

Only a 90’s kid will know that being a 90’s kid is not easy. Perhaps “only 90’s kids will remember” that the internet is full of memes and trivia to remind them of their place in the conundrum of time. One thing common about all these forwards is the invocation of their memories.  

So what memory does a cricket fan have of his childhood? Desert storm, Kumble’s 10, Jadeja tearing into Pakistan’s bowling in Bangalore, Dada in Toronto, any of Sachin’s tons? Before we all became polarized over politics, Sachin vs Warne was the only debate we took part in (and wasn’t even much of a debate as there was hardly ever anyone on the other side). But if we introspect with any honesty, these wonderful memories were like oases in an otherwise desert full of not too good memories.

When Sachin scored the wonderful 169 in Cape Town, the rest of the team just folded. How can anyone forget Prabhakar and Mongia shutting shop in that Kanpur ODI with 7 an over required in an ODI in the last 9. Heck, the Indian Team had refused to try and chase 87 in the last hour - months after winning the World Cup. India couldn’t chase 120 in Bridgetown. The Chennai surrender after the super-hero knock. Meek surrenders in Jamaica, Jo’berg, Old Trafford, Sydney.

Gosh. I still wake up sweating at night.

The hallmark of those growing up years was hope. No matter how bad the situation, you would concoct scenarios for the team to crawl out of it to end up victorious. Now don’t lie even you would have done it. Hope was beautiful but it also crushed you. The hope never somehow ascended to the players

Then we grew up in terms of age and cynicism. Witnessing miracles was not part of our daily to-do lists. Priorities changed. Cricket was still always in the front burner, but the emotional involvement decreased. What caused sleepless nights became “Onto the next project, job, house, interview, etc” (PS - Not taking a jab at Kohli, or maybe I am). The tears were replaced by mere devastation at losses. Don’t get me wrong, there were always brilliant performances to keep one hooked but the hope quotient had fallen.

Even after the last series win (also happens to be my last cricket blog before this), I had written about the context of the victory in terms of the cricketing history. But this one is different. This is many levels up in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. This is like the cuddle after sex. For me, the hope was never there (or atleast I hoped it wasn’t there) in dire situations. I was wary of hoping, yet the Team matched the opponents punch for punch, they braved ball after ball, they weathered every storm, they took in every blow, adversities were turned into opportunities. They refused to buckle. They were high on hope. They believed. The tears of joy were back for me.

They never surrendered. The result is a by-product.

Pura bachpan sapno mein nikal daala, aur jab aaj bade hue toh phir bachpana yaad dila dala. 

Every good memory I have of cricket (and trust me there are a lot) mostly involves individual brilliance, some moments of magic, a partnership or at best multiple people chipping in with superlative performances. But this is straight out of a long-drawn process and that feels so fulfilling. You may credit Dravid for it, Shastri for it, or Kohli, or Rahane but the outcome feels so so so overwhelmingly good, and more so the process, the manner, the context.

Context makes everything even better. And this tweet provides all the context you need. Add to one youngster missing the last rites of his parent, another missing his child birth. Sledged, abused, bruised, and battered, but ready for the next thing to be thrown at them, ready to prove that they belong, to show that they have not given up hope.

In a brilliant tribute to the team made even before the test ended having Sunny Paji’s voice over (Disclaimer: goose bumps may happen), the maker chose an extended footage of Thakur hitting that six to get to his 50. That partnership (also having a ‘no-look’ six from Sundar, besides a third one) was a metaphor for the tour. With 260 behind with 5 gone, Obituaries written, two people having no business playing for India on that day decided to show grit. Between the 36 in Adelaide, and those 3 6s in Brisbane, so much had changed.     

Here’s to hope, and to peaceful sleeps. This series has given so much for everyone to remember, and so much for the 90’s kid to reminisce.

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