The unknown

There are these moments in life, which I call "groping-for-the-right-word" kind of moments. This was one such. A moment of wordlessness.

I found this while strolling down a tiny deserted alley in Porto, Portugal months ago. I was with a friend, and this was the last day of our five-day trip. It wasn't the best of weather that day, and we were desperately hoping that the sky would clear soon enough to let us go to the beach, as planned. When by early afternoon we figured that all our hopes of enjoying the Portuguese sun had been destroyed, we decided to not let the disappointment dampen our spirits and take a walk around the city instead. After a while, hunger struck, and we started looking for an untouristy place far away from the maddening crowd where we could eat 'traditional' Portuguese food. That was when this happened. 

We took a turn and there it was. Every house, on either side of the lane, had these pictures put up on their windows/balconies. I stared in amazement, wondering what it was all about. There wasn't anyone around, barring an old Portuguese who looked clearly surprised to see us. We wandered around a bit, soaking it all in, taking pictures, and then resumed our quest.

We came back, got busy with our lives, the picture almost fading from memory. Then today, while going through my archive, I found it again. Memories came rushing back, with that familiar question: what was it all about! I started thinking, maybe it didn't mean anything afterall. Maybe the locals were just religious and it was a way of expressing their gratitude to Almighty. Or maybe it meant something. Maybe it was a special day. I wished I knew. I wished I had asked.

But then I thought, maybe, some things were indeed better left unknown.

End of The Era

I see the social networking sites overflowing with ThankYou Sachin status messages, I see the madness surrounding the last two test matches (incidentally, one in my home town and the other in his :) ), I see friends celebrating his accomplishments as their own, I see people crying at the news of his retirement, I see the on-field crowd stunned into silence and then erupting in a roar of applause and cheers after the final innings, and my heart warms. How lucky he is to be loved and respected by millions, I wonder! And then I think, how incredibly lucky we are to have him.

I have never idolized or worshiped him the way most Indians have. I have not sat glued to the television everytime he played. I shall not be able to recall how many runs he scored or how many wickets he took on that final day of that particular match in that year (as my brother can, with ease). I do not know his career statistics by heart. I have had infinite arguments with the brother and a Ponting-fanatic to decide if he was indeed the greatest. But I do know that he has re-defined Cricket for us Indians. I do know that the guy is perfectly capable of creating miracles on the field. I do know that I always thought nothing bad could happen to India if he was around. And ofcourse, I do know that we share 'almost' the same birthday! :)

So while I can hardly take part in the mania that has engulfed the country right now, I can sit in my office and silently thank him for everything he has done for us till date. And all I can tell him is that you make us proud, very very proud. 

Take a bow Little Master. You'll be missed :(

p.s. I share with you my most favourite picture of him. Lifted by the team mates, The Tricolor in hand, and The Night when we conquered the world. Perfect, isn't it? :)

The plan

Off late, I have been going through this no-time-to-write phase, given the upcoming yearly seminar in a couple of weeks (which also marks the beginning of the third, and final, year of this damned PhD)! Quite evidently, I feel pretty much frustrated, irritated, in dire need of some sleep, praying for extra hours in a day, and not to mention the (n-1)th time questioning-myself as to why I started this PhD in the first place. 

I mean, this was not even the plan! I was never extraordinarily brilliant in studies, so my professional aspirations were also limited to a great extent throughout my school (and college) life. Studying till a certain age, experiencing love, having wonderful friends, getting married at 25, starting a family by 28, having a good job, traveling extensively, being satisfied with life by 30.. everything had seemed so simple back then. Half a decade later, the plan seems to have gone for a toss. On days like today, when I feel that the whole world is conspiring against me :-/, I take a deep breath and wish that I had stuck to the plan. I see 'got-married-to.../going-on-weekend-trips-with-friends../got-a-promotion' posts on Facebook ceremoniuosly piling up everyday, and sometimes I feel a tinge of jealousy. On days like today, I wish I had a family to pamper me when I complained about, well, everything; had someone waiting for me when I returned home (with a huge smile and a big slice of chocolate cake, ah); had eventful weekends with friends; had a clearer picture of the life after PhD, and had less things to worry about. But, strangely, on most other days I feel happy that I have not stuck to the plan. Doing this PhD, living thousands of miles away from family and friends, staying alone in a spooky apartment on the hills, having no time or energy to cook and therefore eating salad or bread for dinner on most days, didn't help a bit in accomplishing the things I had planned for. However, they taught me a great deal about reality and life. And ofcourse, that plans, how much full-proof and well constructed they might be, never ever work! :D