Cricket, to some extent Tennis, has been a game which revs up my senses. However, the news of the sudden demise of Robert Woolmer, the Pakistan coach, ( Woolmer was born in Kanpur, India) as if brought to the fore questions/doubts/validations long overdue.
If vicarious learning be the method adopted by the wise, then we’d be fools not to re-examine images the world throws up..however illusionary.
To begin with :Have we as a species, irrespective of distinction on the basis of demographics, geography, ethnicity or race, decided to fight maturity? Are we highly strung, on the edge of a breakdown, because our priorities have more to do with the outer world rather than the inner? Have we equated worldly success and acclaim with happiness? Is the need to ‘win’ one that transcends every other? Is any man just a professional? Is a career the only identity of an individual so much so that he himself has forgotten to consider himself nothing in the absence of it?
Sadly the answer to all of the above is ‘Yes’ as also to this: Is it not time that we take a pause, re-evaluate, re-consider, re-prioritise our life and the direction we hurl it towards.
In the case of Robert, what is tragic is that while many consider cricket just a ‘sport’, tsk tsk mournfully at the news of his rather untimely demise, yet there is no evidence of it being considered one, especially at such junctures..especially when news of setting ablaze Dhonis home is filtering in, alongside. Its only when lives are lost that the fultility, of having accorded a game the seriousness it did not deserve, gains credence..Its too late .. atleast for Woolmer and his family.
Some wise owls consider life a sport as well… good for them. They have most certainly imbibed the essence of its transience, our role and the incongruity of circumstances as a realism well enough, to be in the world but not of it. Easier said than done? Well..verbalising is also means of sending out energy which will gather and bring forth consequences.
Its not just about Robert though. There are scores like him, who have not made it to the front pages even in death but who have surrendered their life at the altar of their dreams or rather at the feet of defeat. Nothing can be more worrisome for a family member than to see his/her dear one slowly dying within since the world outside is taking no cognisance of his ambitions, aspirations,integrity, sincerity, earnestness. But why would/should the world bother? Its a jungle out there.. some learn to survive, rhinoceros skinned, insensitive-coated/ embalmed, shamelessly posited to carry on, others survive by philosophising with a none-can-take-away-whats mine- wisecrack, while some just succumb and..die.
Each of us have our cross to bear, nailed as painfully, burdened with our desires, attempting to conquer, vanquish, beat, rout, subdue, subjugate, overcome..life. Ironical isnt it ? We create the monster and then die struggling to destroy it!
And all this without any shred of evidence as to the seriousness of life.
It’s as if one’s life in the environs of this world, is nothing but an attempt at learning a language that is foreign/alien/ unpronounceable, and yet swearing at the wisdom of knowing it all.. perfectly.
Often reminded of the lyrics.’
Yeh mahalon yeh takhton yeh taajon ki duniya
yeh insaan ke dushman sammaajo ki duniya
yeh daulat ke bhooke riwaazon ki duniya
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye to kya hai??!! Sahir Ludhianvi vintage..
The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive..Robert Heinlin
Yet one toils as if its gonna last forever..