The Musical Mistake
Disclaimer:
Dear reader,
This post is not to criticize you or your feelings or actions. It is just what I feel and what happened to me and I take complete responsibility of the transformations stated. You are no way responsible for this.

10 years ago
I opened the gates panting after a 3 hour non-stop play under the hot sun during 9th standard summer vacations. Being in Chennai, summer was hottest as compared to hot winters. As I neared the doorsteps I noticed more chappals than usual. I glanced at my watch – it was 5 PM. I wondered who these guests were. I could hear voices from inside – my mom’s being the loudest as usual with her excitement pouring out as if she’s met some old family friend after 30 years. And to my surprise, it was true. I strolled lazily into my house towards the drawing room where everyone was seated with all smiles ranging from ear to ear. “Adi, take a guess on who this is”, shouted my mom with full of enthusiasm. I stared with a blank face at them. There were 3 of them, 2 ladies and a guy – all of them definitely more than my age and looked like NRIs. I shook my head gently as I had no clue about their identity. “Don’t you know them? C’mon Adi”, asked my mom again. I scratched my head – my mom’s words sounded as though I couldn’t recognize Sachin Tendulkar sitting in front of me. “Think, think….”, continued my mom. “Was it a concept or a situation to think and arrive at a solution? Cant anyone understand that if I didn’t recognize a person there’s no concept of thinking on that?”, I murmured within my breath.
As I continued thinking indefinitely, one lady spoke out, “He was so small when we saw him at Ahmedabad. He wont be able to recognize us.” Ha.. at last they understand. My mom has a problem of overestimating my capabilities in a lot of ways, but lets not discuss that right now. At last they introduced themselves as my grandfather’s friends who resided in Ahmedabad when he used to work there. I greeted them and introduced myself. “Enjoying vacation is it?” asked another lady. “Yes, of course”, I replied immediately with a sense of laughter. My tiredness was still prevailing. After all I had been playing since 2 PM and who would not be tired by this time? I sat in a corner of the drawing room listening to their conversations when my brother arrived on the scene. He too, of course, had played long under the hot sun for hours and put up the same stare as I did some minutes earlier. But my mom was not to leave him as the same questions were posted to him too – poor thing he might not have even born when both our families last met. After an unsuccessful tremendous thinking from his side, he got introduced to them through my mom. He too was so tired after play and decided to sit beside me so that he could secretly tell me about his match. Though our heads were aching, thanks to the scorching sun, we looked as though we would fall down and sleep for 48 hours non-stop. Our eyes were half-closed with tiredness and we didn’t even bother to contribute to their conversation and resisted ourselves to remain awake at least till they left.
They continued their conversations bringing in stories more than 30 years old when suddenly from nowhere my grandma enthusiastically exclaimed. “Do you know? These 2 guys sing very well. They have been learning classical music for more than 5 years.” My brother and I looked at each other with scary faces. Oh no! Not again. We looked at our mom and gave a sharpened look. We knew where this was going to lead. “Oh, is it? Very nice.”, the lady started off. “We all love music and we hardly get a chance to listen to Indian classical music in the States. Why don’t you guys sing for us?” Both of us were drained out and here was a set of people who would love to hear us sing not bothering about the state which we are in. Of course we loved music, at least I did. Music was my world and I couldn’t do without it. But was that a situation to give a performance, do you think we were in a mood to perform?

Between 10 years ago and now

My brother shunned music and I was the only victim for all my relatives. They used to pester me for a song whenever we met and being a part of a huge family, such meetings are often. I used to oblige every time no matter in whatever mood I was - not want to hurt their requests. Sometimes I enjoyed singing, sometimes I hated it. It depended on my mood. Just like you cant taste a cup of tea immediately after tasting a chocolate, just like you cant go into the hot sun at 45 degree temperature immediately after being inside an air-conditioned room, just like you cant drink a cup of hot water after accidentally tasting a spicy chilli, getting into a singing mood is always tough unless you are already in it. My obligations and talent for singing spread like a woman keeping a secret and thus expectations were raised. Every time I met someone I had to sing – sometimes I was in mood and loved singing and sometimes I hated as I wouldn’t be in that mood although I obliged every time. Slowly and steadily an internal pressure started to build up and I started avoiding such request citing some reason or the other much to the surprise of many of my relatives and friends. I stopped practicing music and slowly my isolation with it became an easier excuse. Was it a mistake learning singing? Why does this happen to singers only? And why not to many other instrument players? Just because we carry our instrument along with us, why is it being exploited? Why cant requestors understand the comfort level of the singer and why do they pressurize them to sing? I know many people who have asked me – “Why do you need a mood to sing?” and this write-up is directed to such readers and not to criticize anyone. All these instances have made me avoid music although I wouldn’t love to do it; it has slowly made me feel – “Was it a mistake learning to sing?”

Future
I never know how music in me will grow or fade over time, but I would always love to be a singer and just keep singing, keep singing, keep singing………….

From gloves to bare hands

Cricket – a game termed as lazy by busy men around the world. Of course, it might be considered lazy for athletes who live on rapid sports like ice-hockey or table-tennis or badminton. In cricket, the ball rests for more time than being in play. Agreed. Cricketers require far less stamina than soccer stars. Right in some sense. So why doesn’t everyone become a master of cricket? Why isn’t Baichung Bhutia or Sharath Kamal or Saina Nehwal as popular as Sachin Tendulkar? Cricket has its own class, its own difficulty areas and creates its own fears in players. One such fear is “the fear of the cricket ball”.

Yes. The fear of the cricket ball might sound ridiculous for the ones who stay distant from the game, but more than three-fourths of the population who play the game in various streets and grounds and terraces and lanes in India cites that as a reason not to raise their game beyond playing with tennis balls. I remember being asked about my capabilities as a cricketer in the organization where I worked, before the captain nominated the playing squad. I, having the fear of the ball, told the captain that I was a wicket-keeper – knowing well that a wicket-keeper would have a pair of gloves to catch the ball with as compared to the other fielders who would need to painfully catch the ball with bare hands. I was fortunate to have been handed the gloves ever since and had no problems with fear having the big gloves to protect my hand. Of course, wicket-keeping had it own difficulties, but I was ready to take it as long as I didn’t touch the ball with bare hands.

Days passed and I continued as a wicket-keeper. Months passed as I moved away from cricket-ball cricket. Years passed and WCC enrolled itself into a cricket-ball tournament nominating me as the captain. Although I was initially assumed as the wicket-keeper, plans changed later on and I had to accept being a fielder. I had to throw away the gloves and go into the field with bare hands. I had to touch the hard ball with bare hands. I had to stop the fluent drives and pulls and cuts with bare hands. How painful would that be???? Oh my God!!!! I’d seen players getting hit on their palms and fingers and shouting in pain. I trembled with fear at that moment. I touched my hands – it was so soft. I had to make it harder. I had to practice harder. I had to catch harder. Even with all these fears, I had to set an example to my team. What more, I had to stand at slips, supposedly the toughest position with bare hands. I’ve seen balls flying over to the slip region, the place where most players get hurt on their fingers and palms. How am I going to catch with bare hands????

WCCs 2nd match - and I was watching the batsman’s blade with full concentration from 1st slip. I had to keep focusing even as the batsman moved his bat to complete a stroke. The ball hit the edge and that was the moment for me to react. Having dropped a couple of catches at slip previous match I had to make it a point to hold on to anything and everything that came my way. I had only a fraction of a second to react to that edge as the ball came flying towards me. I lost the track of the ball as it left the bat’s blade but my concentration converged my eyesight back to the ball that was now already only a couple of feet closer to me at chest height. I raised my hands towards the right side of my chest and the ball pouched in safely there. Ha…. What a moment!!!! The fear of the ball against bare hands was thus eliminated.