No Easy Way Out

It hurt. A lot. To put it any other way would be a barefaced lie.

Where was I? Oh, I was living any boxer's dream. A shot at the world title. At the world's largest casino at that. I was sitting in my corner, surrounded by my posse, waiting today to throw myself at my opponent yet again. My coach stood above me, wearing his trademark green and yellow sweatshirt, shouting advice into my ear. Something about attacking his body, not his head. Honestly. At this point of time, I couldn’t care less. I had reached the grandest stage in boxing terms. I look at my coach once again. For a chain smoker turning 60, the guy's got a remarkable set of lungs. I watch as his mouth forms words that are ultimately spewed in my direction.. Oh well, that hasn’t changed in the last 10 years. The man has taken great pride in criticizing everything I do. Every jab, every hook, every feint is critically analyzed and then regarded as pathetic. Well, there's no pleasing some people. To be fair to him though, he has stuck around. And we've finally made it. At 38, I'm pretty much a dinosaur in the boxing circles. And with a win/loss record of 21-40, I'm pretty much regarded as a joke as well. And courtesy of the lovely managers of the casino I'm boxing at, my stats are being displayed to the public on large screens that hang 15 feet above the rink.

I look around, stare at the crowd. I see their faces. They'd come there to see a slaughter, To watch the reigning world champion almost destroy the aging veteran who had dared take a shot at the coveted title that he so cherished. And instead, what they had witnessed seemed to have stunned them into silence. The ageing veteran had actually lasted 9 whole rounds. (9 whole rounds! When they were placing bets that I would be knocked out in 4. That look in their eyes- a mixture of grudging respect, hatred, and most of all, sympathy. (9 rounds I had lasted, but a tenth seemed unlikely. Later on, they'll probably ask me how I ever managed it. Sure, my PR team (read - my coach) will come up with a long heart rending story of how I had been practicing hours and hours on end, honing my skills, waiting to pounce on my opponent like a hungry wolf pounces on a gazelle. Not a bad story, eh? But frankly, the only reason I’ve survived till now is pure, dumb, stupid luck. And for that I shall hate my opponent forever.

To be honest, I'd never expected to even be given the chance to fight this guy. My coach, the old warhorse that he is, however, decided that I couldn't retire without having sought a title. And surprisingly, the Boxing association apparently felt the same way. Either that or they just wanted to see me getting mauled. Probably the latter.

So, to cut a long story short, here I am. And for 36 long minutes in the ring interspersed by 9 in my corner, I had gone through hell. No, not the kind of pain that acts as the fire that can cleanse you (they did mention that in Rocky Balboa, just saying). No, this is the sort of pain that makes you want to kill yourself so that you don't have to suffer for one more moment. The sort of pain that makes you wonder whether that damn title is even worth it.

I look straight ahead. 15 feet away from me, sits my opponent. Sadly, the guy doesn't look tired. He looks angry. Understandable for a 26 year old world champion who weights over 200 pounds and has a win loss record of 54-9. This guy hates losing. His last loss was apparently 20 matches ago. A 20 match winning streak. That meant twenty opponents who had been younger, faster, and probably stronger than me had been taken apart by him. And I stand in his way of the 21^st win. Maybe the guy likes blackjack, just a thought. But card games aside, this guy was mad. And who could blame him. Twenty of the best boxers in the world couldn’t beat him, and some ancient relic had taken him to a tenth and final round. For that, he will hate me. And for putting me through such torture, I hate him just as much.

The saddest part was that even after 9 rounds, he looks as fit as a fiddle. There's barely any blood on him. Sure, there's a bloody gash where his lips are supposed to be, but apart from that, he barely even looks bruised. Apart from the gash and a thin lining of sweat on his muscular frame, one would think the guy was just getting into the gym for some practice.

I, on the other hand, looked like I had been through the mill. A gash on my forehead, a broken rib, and bruising on every part of the upper body. I looked and felt like a dead man walking. Not a very comforting thought.

I was brought out of my reverie by a tap on the shoulder. The coach, yet again. It was time to get up for the tenth round. Three more minutes of pain. As I wearily lift my battered frame off the chair, all the lights immediately switch back to the ring. I could hear the commentators shouting into their mikes. Something about this being the last shot I had to take down the monster in front of me. I could hear them questioning my capacity to bear pain. Would I last this one round? Or will the world champion successfully defend his title. My bet was on the latter.

The referee comes over to me, and shouts in my ear. Apparently this is my last chance to back down before the fight starts. I could quit now, or walk into the labyrinth of pain. I'll admit, he didn’t put it that way, but considering the state I was in, it was all the same thing. The mouthpiece in place, there was no way I could answer verbally. An attempt to shake my head was satisfying enough an answer for him though.

And as the bell tolled, I looked one last time into the crowd, as I had done countless times before. It was sort of a ritual that I followed. To look at the first row of spectators. To look into the eyes of my wife . She sat there, in a dark business dress and as she had done countless times before, she looked back into mine. For 15 years, this woman had stood by me in my worst times. And for 15 years, had loved me, and taken care of me. A woman who, despite a successful career, was always there supporting me in mine. And like she had done before, she looked at me with those light brown eyes, those beautiful eyes that sparkled so brightly in the present atmosphere, and I knew that win or lose - everything would be okay.

Beside the lovely woman who I was proud to call mine, sat my six year old son in a white t-shirt over denim jeans, with a cap covering his curly hair, Normally, I'd have ordered him to stay at home, where he didn't have to see his father being manhandled in front of thousands of others in the same arena. But this time was different. This was my first, and probably last, shot at the title. And I wanted him to be there when I took that shot. I wanted him to watch proudly as his father stepped up to the occasion and looked like a god. And in that one moment, in one fell swoop, I realized what I was looking at in his eyes... it wasn't pride, it was fear.

That one look almost made me stop in my tracks. I could see my opponent slowly advancing towards me, coming in for the kill. And yet, my mind was elsewhere. Memories flashed past my eyes - that fateful day in the delivery room when my son entered the world; the day we first played in the park, the day he took his first step, the day we celebrated his first birthday. His first day of school. Great, amazing time to get emotional, I chided myself, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t stop.

And then, in one fell swoop, I realize that I don’t want to be here. All I want to do is get out of this place, and walk away. Go away with my family far, far away, away from all of this. I’ve been a quitter for almost 2 decades, why should anything change now? Won’t it be fitting if I quit right now? I can see the critics destroying me already - the guy who finally went so far, right to the end….only to quit. Oh….it’s going to be priceless….

I’m ready to raise my hand, to signal the referee... Oh, my opponent is not going to like this. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knocking ME out. 21 wins or not… he will hate me for walking away. Somehow I think that will help me. I’ve been thrown around a rink for more than half an hour now. I deserve some fun, don’t I? And just as I turn in his direction to give him one last vindictive smile, I realize that he’s no longer advancing towards me.

In fact, he’s less than 2 feet away from me… and his fist is coming straight towards my face.

In My Darkest Hour

I paused at the entrance. The time had come to execute the plan that had formed in my head over the last week. Once I passed the ornate doors, there would be no turning back. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed my hesitation. The only person in sight was the doorman to the building, a 65 year old man who had been there for the last 25 years, and had known me for the last ten. All was well. The doorman wouldn’t suspect me of anything. Gathering my wits, I slowly made his way to the doors. The doorman greeted me with a salute and a smile, just as he had done countless times before. What the doorman didn’t know was that this would probably be the last time he would ever salute the rich man who lived in the building and tipped him every other day.

Entering the elevator, I pressed the button that would take me up to the top floor of the building. As the elevator slowly made its way up the 34 floors, I began contemplating. Sure , I’d had it quite good. Dressed in a designer suit, wearing a Tissot, I really didn’t have any material problems to complain about. An apartment a high rise building, a collection of vintage cars, you name it, I’ve got it. Even a breathtakingly beautiful wife- the source of my present problem. You’d think that if you love a woman enough and shower her with every material possession imaginable, she’d have the sense to remain faithful. Apparently not.

And who did she happen to cheat on me with? None other than my best friend. A man, who had been as close as a brother to me. A man, who had been there for me through every moment of my professional life. A man who, for all his friendship and camaraderie, turned out to be a backstabbing cheat. It had been less than a week since I found out. One long harrowing week when everything seemed to be going out of control. Business meetings seemed so inconsequential when I knew that my friend and my wife were together in my own bed.

I was brought out of my reverie as the elevator stopped. As the door opened, I felt my pocket, felt the reassuring touch of the pistol concealed there. I knew what I was here to do…I was here to take control of my life. In one fell swoop, I would eradicate my problem. I knew that they were in my house right now. I was going to make them pay.

I made my way down the narrow passage to my house. With every alternating step, my resolve either strengthened or weekend. No! this was no time to be weak. This was time for redemption. I could almost hear my heart beating as I extended my hand towards the doorknob.

‘ Are you really sure you want to do this?’ . A smooth, almost beautiful voice reached my ears.

My heart almost leapt into my mouth. There hadn’t been anyone in the corridor. How could I have failed to notice someone?

I slowly turned around to see who had called out.

All I could tell was that the man was tall and thin. Half shrouded in darkness, I couldn’t see his face. Even his silhouette was slightly blurred. It was as if he just wasn’t well defined. Was I hallucinating? I hadn’t slept for ages, but still. It felt so very real to me

“ And who might you be”, I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “ Does it really matter? What really matters right now is that you’re going to make a decision right now that could change your life irrevocably, and not for the better I’m sure”

“ And how would you know? How do you know what I’m planning to do? What do you even know of what I’m going through?” .

“ I think you know the answer to that yourself”

I slowly made my way towards ‘him’. It was odd. It felt like I almost knew him already, and yet, for some reason, I just couldn’t put my finger to it.

“ Oh just go ahead and do what you came to do already!” Came a voice from behind me.

Things were definitely getting stranger by the minute. Another turn confirmed my suspicions.

Surprise surprise…there stood yet another person in the place I had just occupied. Unlike the first one though, this one’s features were , for lack of a better word, sharp.

He stood right there, rolling a cigar between his long slim fingers. As he took long a long drag from the lit cigar, his face lit up. He looked rather ordinary, so to speak. Like a man who could definitely blend into a crowd unnoticed. And as I stared into his cold brown eyes, I realized that I was looking at the devil himself. One would presume that the devil would be an imposing figure with horns et al. Apparently not. The ‘man’ in front of me looked at ease with his surroundings. But I now knew exactly what he was. The eyes did not lie. Which meant that the other figure was….No , that was impossible. Wasn’t it? I wasn’t exactly religious, but still…It couldn’t be a coincidence.

After taking a few deep breaths to clear my head. I decided to analyze the situation. Ok, so I I’m standing outside my own apartment about to go in and kill my wife and my so called best friend. And, for somehow, I’m being accosted by both the Devil and…….. Sure ….THAT makes a lot of sense!

The one smoking the cigar called out to me in a rough, almost angry voice that chilled me to the bone..” Go ahead. What’s stopping you? All your going to do is go in and kill that whore and that treacherous bastard. It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong. An eye for an eye right? They screwed your life, now you screw theirs. True, they wont be able to make a comeback! But who cares anyway? They’ve taken everything away from you already. Your sanity, your pride….now it’s time for you to take it back. Go in there….let the hate flow…Burn all those bridges.. If life doesn’t give you justice, go ahead and snatch it. It’s yours for the taking…all you have to do is reach out and take it…And then…only then can you be truly happy…”

The figure masked in the shadows spoke again……” And destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for? Your life itself? All you’ll achieve if you go ahead with this is a lifetime of unhappiness, in some jail, rotting like some pathetic organism and wondering where it all went wrong...Do you really think you can survive that? Do you really want to test your sanity to such a extent? The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. And you know that your no killer…You know what the consequences to your action will be, and you know that even after you go ahead with this…you won’t be truly happy….You want true happiness? Be the bigger man here. Let go of all the hate…Unless you do that, it will eat away at you for the rest of your life….are you really willing to test the faith you have in your inner strength to that level?”

“ And how the hell would you know what I’m going through?” I whispered, barely controlling my rage.” What is this….some sort of test? If your really as omnipotent as you’re said to be…you’d have never let this happen. You’d have let me go on with my life. You’d have let me come home to a woman who loves me as much as I do her….But did you? No! You let me down…Spout all the ‘hate is bad’ nonsense all you like….it won’t matter…I want blood….both of theirs…I want revenge. I want justice…and the time for justice will be right now…You tell me I shouldn’t hate? Well let me tell you this…hate is what everything that I stand for is built upon…its hatred for a poor existence that made me work so hard to get to where I am…and its hate that will get me my life back!”

“ Spoken like a true man!” , said the Devil. It was too obvious to hide the fact from myself...The devil himself stood in front of me..” If you want to build something new you have to destroy the old first. And now it’s time for you to destroy the pathetic vermin that lies in you bed behind that door> It’s time for you to rise up to the occasion and take what’s rightfully yours.”

Said the almost pleading voice behind me,” And what rightfully belongs to you? Is your pride so important that you would kill for it? You ask how I know what you happen to be going through? Well, let me tell you this…Both me and the one in front of you are part of you…We exist in you. We’re not omnipotent mythical beings who reside in some otherworldly abode…We are, and always will be, inside of you..!

Strange….just a few minutes ago, I was almost sure that I was ready to go in there and kill them…But now…I could feel something inside of me that just prevented me from going in there and finishing the job I had come to do…And in one fell swoop, I realized what it was…fear.

I was scared…every fiber in my body was throbbing with it…I just had no idea what to do now, and it freaked me out. If I went in there, I would come out a murderer. If I turned and walked away, I would be…in my mind at least…the gutless coward who just couldn’t take what was his..It was so frustrating…I needed to come up with a solution, …and fast.

My hand grazed my pocket, and felt the cold steel below the smooth linen of my suit. The gun…And then it struck me…The easiest way out. The solution to all my problems..The way to silence that noise in my head that just left me confused at the end.

I took the gun out of the pocked, cocked the barrel and pointed it at my temple. This would be answer to everything. Eternal bliss..I looked at the blurred figure in the darkness, and for the first time, I could see his eyes. They were pleading me to stop. And yet, I knew not for sure what I had to do..

I pulled the trigger.

Epilogue

The hallway was dark. The sound of the bullet echoed everywhere. The man crumpled to the floor, as the gun left his hand and fell a foot away from him, still smoking.

The Devil observed the incident with a cruel, satisfied smile on his face. “ the idiot! Eternal bliss eh? The poor chap has no idea what’s in store for him when he comes to my place.”

The other figure looked up as well…a look of eternal sadness on his face…

The devil called out” You overrate humans, my old master. You haven’t yet realized that deep down, they’re fools looking for an easy way out of their pathetic miserable existences. They are neither beautiful nor unique. They’re just vermin. Sadly for you, their hate makes me stronger. Why do you think that you’re the one who’s edges are blurred and can’t be seen clearly. They have lost their faith in you. Keep feeding me denial and hate, from that I will create. Your time is over father..my time is arriving. With each person who doubts himself, I become stronger. And one day, I shall overthrow you forever! I have won father! I have won!”

The door behind him opened, as the wife of the dead man rushed out, wearing a silk bathrobe, wondering what the noise was. It was time to leave

And as they departed for their respective abodes, the other called out…” Just this round my friend…just this round”

No More Mister Nice Guy

They screwed me. That, Ladies and Gentlemen ,is the long and short of it . To try and obscure the truth in a rather verbose, inscrutable manner would be an insult to your intellect . And frankly, a waste of my time. Who screwed me? To that, I really don’t have a definite answer. ‘they’ is not just a group of individuals. It happens to be a whole organization ( which, by any definition, happens to be a group of people, and yet at the same time, far from it)

When and how did they screw with me? Again, not a definite answer . In the light of certain recent events that I shall not bore you with, I’ve come to realize that ‘they’ , might just be the world in general. For the purpose of sounding cynical and rebellious, I shall just call it the system.

So what is the problem with the system? I’m sure that at some point or the other in your life, you must have wondered what’s wrong with the organization, be it a college administration, a court, a political party, or the whole government itself. And the only answer I can come up with, is protocol.

Protocol is the term that any person who is truly afraid of change hides behind. Seriously, You want to hide behind a bunch of rules crafted decades, perhaps even centuries ago ? Rules which,(perhaps im exaggerating a little bit ) are designed to leave everybody unhappy. Rules which, if I may say so frankly, are a tad outdated. Look around you. In this present day and age, who IS happy with the way things are run in ANY country? Ironic ,isn’t it, since logically everything IS run by people themselves. The problem lies in the rules. Guidelines, constitutions, academic rulebooks- call them what you want. In most cases, the rules were set probably decades ago. And people are just unwilling to change the rules, citing reasons like ‘its tradition’ or ‘that’s how we’ve always done it’ . Get over yourself and your precious traditions. While they may give you a sense of culture, they might actually hinder your progress. The world has changed so much in the last 50 odd years. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Just ask your parents or grandparents.

When the situation changes, so does the solution to it. Its like trying to drive a car with wheels that were designed for chariots centuries ago. It just doesn’t work out. Everybody is quick to accept the fact that change is the natural order of things. That change, is evolution in its most unadulterated form. And yet, hypocrites that we are, most of us are unwilling to accept change itself. Any attempt to bring about change in the present order of things is contested strongly by many. Pray, tell me, why is that? Are we, humans, inherently flawed? We take control of a whole planet, and yet, there is something wrong. You might like to say that people just cannot change themselves, but therein lies the problem. We’re unwilling to change ourselves to accept that accepting change is the only solution to all our problems.

So what do we do? Certainly, sitting on our asses doing nothing isn’t really an option.( well ok,…it is…but nothing good can come of it, and the end your ass will start to hurt !) . I for one, shall be both bitter and cynical and shall bitch about the system , hoping that you’re reading this and actually considering making changes. What about you?

Dude.....seriously????

So there I was, sitting at the dining table on a Sunday morning reading the jokes in the paper ( say what you will; fat,lazy orange cats are always hilarious), when I noticed the supplement. You know, the nonsense that gets printed on flashy paper with pictures of supposedly seductive looking B grade actresses.

On said flashy paper, was a rather delightful ( for lack of a better word) article named- 3 Mistakes of the decade ( apparently a play on the name of some cheap, random book) . The author's name escapes me ( predictably, a very forgettable one). I do remember reading about him in the past though. You know, the leader of the NEW breed of Indian fiction authors. One of those IIT and IIM graduates who decided that being investment bankers just isn't enough for them.

But I digress. The writer decided that at the end of the decade, it was time( and apparently loads of fun, because the article had a picture of him on the side smiling like a 1000 watt advertisement sign) to remind the country of its worst mistakes this decade. And the winners are- ( If you like, you can picture Scarlett Johannson or some other blonde bombshell saying this; whatever gets you going)

1- The Agra Summit ( July 2001)

2-The Godhra Riots (Feb 2002)

3- The Commonwealth Games 2010

For a variety of reasons, i've decided to comment mainly on the last one.

Take your pick from the list of reasons

1- The first two occurred when I was too young to even know or care about what was happening to the country

2- Generally when there are 3 mistakes/options...the author intends that the 3^rd would be the biggest

3- I'm lazy ( read point 2)

The Commonwealth Games 2010
A disaster all the way ( yeah... tell that to the 101 medals that we won, and all the new talent that has sprung up) and enough has been said on why it is so(and yet you keep writing , I wonder why ). The games cost too much(printing stuff like that previous line on flashy paper also costs quite a bit ,did u know?), most of the world doesn't even care about them (the US, China, Japan and most of Europe is not part of the Commonwealth)(for someone who keeps writing about how we shouldn't suck up to the western countries , you seem to really want to do stuff that grabs their attention), there was rampant corruption, it didn't change the sporting culture in the country(again...101 medals,ring any bells? ), there were quality and hygiene issues(as you have pointed out in all your books, This Is India...what have you come to expect? FYI, Secunderabad railway station is supposed to be the cleanest railway station in India..ever been there?), India got its worst PR in decades internationally(no, the worst PR was when an iit/iim graduate decided that he could write well and should therefore...become an author. He actually managed to write 3 or 4 of them!), the government has still not punished the culprits and frankly, the athletes would have won their medals abroad even if we didn't host them( we won 101 medals in 2010, 50 in 2006....and since you've been so quick to mention that there has been no change in the sporting culture....i wonder how we managed it) . Under the garb of good intentions, one of the biggest scams in independent Indian history was executed (try as I might , I can't disagree *sniff* ). The only silver lining is that the scam was exposed and it somewhat changed the public's passive attitude towards corruption. More scams have come out since, and people are following the story, waiting for the culprits to be punished this time. It is an expensive way to fix things, but may still be worth it.( I'm sorry...we're making headway when it comes to curbing corruption....and it's still a mistake? I'm sorry, I seem to have lost track of time...since when has corruption NOT been the biggest problem in this country?)

Seriously, how do you call peace talks and communal riots ' mistakes of the decade'? Thats as bad as saying that Justin Bieber is the ' artist of the century'!! ( ok...ill admit...its not that bad..but still! ) True...they weren't exactly the happiest times for the country...but to call them mistakes?

You want mistakes? I'll give you some examples.

Government not legalizing marijuana . Mistake

Letting Himesh Reshammiya act. Mistake

Letting Rakhi ka Swayamvar infect our televisions. Mistake

Letting the Twilight series release in India. Big mistake

My point being this....you want to be critical of our country...do it in your books. Dont let it take up precious space in the paper. Just so you know, they could easily have fit pictures of 2 hot models in the space that your article took up. Perhaps even three if they were of size zero... Think about that.......

NOTE TO AUTHOR-

While the tone of the above article might make you think I don't like you, I should let you know I'm a huge fan. I've got a 'smashingly' original idea for a novel that you can write. Its about a young pale looking girl who gets into IIT. On her first day she falls in love with this hot 10 pointer nerd who turns out to be a vampire.... I'm telling you.... It's going to be legen.....

Losing My Senses

Employee

8.45 pm ....hmm...15 minutes before the 'big' man left the office. Yes... I mean the President himself, the master of puppets in this pathetic excuse of a workplace. Don’t get me wrong, being the Head of Marketing of a huge company does have its perks.But still...all i could dream of in my inebriated state was having his life! Now, the Boss was one man who definitely had it good. Look at him...He had everything!! Loads of money, good looks, the works! His social groups included the rich and the mighty. He partied with the new Governor, a personal friend of his. He had a beautiful beach house. He was married to one of the most beautiful women of the world. Rumour had it that he was even going at it with the wife one of the vice-presidents of the company( The wife of the head of Logistics, i hear)

And yet....it seemed unfair. Why was he the Boss and not me? I remember twenty years ago, we were good friends; teenagers with a big dream. A vision, that one day, we would make it big in the world. And by God, did we manage it! But here's the problem.Everyone knows that I've always been the smarter one. Everyone, including him, knows that it was my brains that got the two of us to the top. And yet,for some inexplicable reason, he was the Boss, and not me. I, on the other hand, was made to watch as he soared in the financial circles. I was rich as well, no doubt about that, but just not as rich as him! While he was going around with a multitude of gorgeous women, I had to go home late every night to my pregnant wife( who, for some reason, just didn't seem to want me around any longer)

Why?

What had he done that I hadn't ??

And in one fell swoop, I made a decision. Enough was enough. For too long had I been the man in the background; and I was sick of it. Perhaps it was the whisky that was doing this to me. Yet somehow, in that haze of alcohol, things seemed crystal clear to me. It was time to take matters into my own hands. Everything that he had rightfully belonged to me. And now was my chance to take it back.

Except for the two of us, the office was deserted ( Being ONE of the big guns did have its advantages) . I opened my drawer and took out my prized possession. Yes, there it was…a .45 Walther pistol . That really did bring back memories. It had originally been part of a set of two. And guess who had the other one? Yes, twenty years ago, when we were still the best of friends, the Boss and I had decided to pick up the set. A token of our …well, brotherly love for each other. But why go there? All that was important to me at the time was the fact that it was still loaded….and it felt so good.

I slowly made my way to his office. Everything seemed to happen so slow, and yet inexplicably , a blur as well. Everything else seemed pointless to me. All I knew was that I wanted blood. His

I walked into his office. He was sitting right there at his desk, staring into space. I called out to him. He looked up, and in his eyes I saw something strange…resentment. Odd! But I had more important things to take care of. I raised the gun, and kept pulling the trigger.

By God, it was loud!! And surprisingly painful… I looked down, and watched the blood spurt out of my chest…. This was not going to be fun.

Boss

Why him? Of all the men’s wives who I had to fall for, why did it have to be the man who brought me to the top? The man, who as a boy, and shared a dream with me. A dream to make it big.

Everything had been going fine till last year. True, I had been overworking him, but for a reason . Having mingled with all the right people, I knew some things that most others didn’t. The state needed a new Governor, and They had asked me for a suggestion. And I had given his name. Sadly,to make him seem like a viable candidate, he had to be tested. He had to prove that he could take the pressure. He couldn’t.

And then, as he turned to alcohol, I tried to help him. I went to his wife to see what we could do about him. Oh God!! Everything went so wrong then..I couldn’t control myself. She was a beautiful woman, in an unhappy marriage. They had been trying to have a child for a year, and it wasn’t going so well. She was vulnerable, and I …like a fool, unwittingly took advantage of that…

When she told me she was pregnant, everything became clear to me. I wanted the life he had. It didn’t seem fair. I was the richer one obviously, but it was his wife I fell in love with. I was so bloody jealous of him. He had everything he needed. And I wanted it.I wanted to be able to father that child that was growing inside of her. My child…

It seemed so unfair. I loved her, and he was the one who got to go home to her every night. He was the one who got to kiss her when he got home. Not me.. And why?? God alone knew.

All I knew was that I wanted him out of the way. That child would be mine, not his.

I realized what I had to do…and It wasn’t going to be easy. He had, after all been like a brother to me in the past.

And then suddenly, he walked in. And I just lost it. I was mad at him, and I would make him pay. In a flash, I had the drawer opened and I had taken out the Walther. I was going to sever every bond we had. I pulled the trigger.

Funny…I never expected it to hurt so much. I watched as he fell slowly to the ground. And then, I noticed the gun in his hand. My vision started to blur. Everything was going cold.

Bridging the Gap

Aisam-ul-Haq Qureshi and Rohan Bopanna lost in the US Open finals. Big deal….someone always loses right? Yet, Their feat still deserves applause. Qureshi and Bopanna lost to the top seeds, Bob and Mike Bryan, after a well-fought match. Again,if your not an avid follower of tennis, you must be wondering, who cares? Let me tell you. What gives the tennis duo's success an extra dimension is the unusual pairing. Indian and Pakistani citizens rarely join hands, even in sport. Sure, you see them in the IPL…but consider this…it really isn’t by choice, is it? Probably the only reason why sportsmen from the two countries would even bother to play together is the big fat cheque that they receive ( not to mention the fact that they were bid for by rich socialites and businessmen) .

The two tennis players have offered us a scenario rarely imagined in the subcontinent, a partnership involving Indians and Pakistanis. The Qureshi-Bopanna partnership is evidence that such a prospect can be real and rewarding. It's a model worthy of emulation not just in sports but in other spheres of human activity. I know…on first thought…the possibility of this happening is quite remote, but here is living proof ( proofs? ) that athletes from two different countries CAN forget the cultural and political differences and together indulge in their passion.What's possible in sport is surely possible in business, trade, education, and so many other sectors, isn’t it?

Here, it may be worth asking what made Qureshi and Bopanna click as a team. Bopanna summed up their success in a single word: trust. The baggage of the past may weigh down heads of states and restrict their capabilities to rise above mutual suspicion and forge a climate of peace.Now…I for one can never imagine them(the heads of states ) sitting down and have a nice chat about the latest Resident Evil flick, but shouldn’t civil societies be able to transcend such animosity and work together for a single purpose?

Look,the facts are simple. As a nation, we don’t trust Pakistan. Not one bit. And why should we. The relations between the two states are far from cordial, what with the Kargil War and the Kasmir situation. Granted, although there is no direct proof that Pakistan was in any way related to the event, the terror attacks on 26/11 have not helped strengthen our bonds either. But why should we hold it against the people of Pakistan.After all,they are human as well right? Im confident that as I type this this out… there must be some youth over 2000 km away,writing down the same about us. The relationship that exists between the two governments shouldn’t really come in the way of how one Indian citizen views his Pakistani counterpart.

One way to marginalise this adverse effect on Indo- Pak relations is for civil societies to build alliances that are not restricted by the logic of the nation state, like the Qureshi-Bopanna bonding. Once such alliances gain momentum, even states could be brought to realise the transformational potential that is present in collaboration.

Both Qureshi and Bopanna claim that they had no political motives to play as a team. In their opinion, they were brought together by sheer love of tennis. Perhaps that is true. But that one simple act of theirs has proven that we can set aside our political differences for a greater cause. Who knows? Perhaps someday, Qureshi and Bopanna might be remembered as the tennis players who brought two countries together. The flagbearers of peace. That remains to be seen.. But I hope that in the future, more sportsmen will stand together with flags of both India and Pakistan printed on their caps, ready to truly play as a team….

It’s time to bridge the gap.

Can Roger Pull Off A ‘RAFA’?

The US Open 2010 is probably the most anticipated tennis event of this year. Tennis fans all over the world ask themselves.” Can Roger Federer pull off a ‘Rafa’ , or will the King of Clay, Rafael Nadal grind his way to a Career Grand Slam”?

By the beginning of 2010, it seemed clear in every tennis fan’s mind that Roger Federer was almost unstoppable. He had cemented his place in tennis history, by winning a record 16 Grand Slam titles.The other face of tennis, Rafael Nadal, on the other hand, could not defend his Wimbledon or French Open titles( a fact which Federer calmly took advantage of),and had dropped to rank 4 in the world, his lowest in over 5 years. It seemed doubtful that he would ever make a comeback.

And then came the clay season. And out of nowhere, Nadal returned. With new dynamics and a stronger will to win( and knees…mind you) he made his way back to the grand stage.He rushed through the 3 ATP tours before the French Open, losing only 2 sets in all ( and also created two new world records) . While Federer was knocked put of the French Open quarterfinals, Nadal smoothly bludgeoned his way to the finals, without dropping a single set.In the finals, he faced his arch rival and nemesis, Robin Soderling, who had been the one to knock him out of the Open the previous year. In a stunning display of strength and agility, Nadal destroyed his opponent, leaving no doubts in anyone’s mind. The King Of clay was back, And He was there to stay.

His successful streak continued at Wimbledon,a tournament he had been forced to withdraw from the previous year. Nadal was moving ahead with a vengeance. And no one could stand in his way. In one of the shortest finals ever, he defeated his opponent, Thomas Berdych, to reclaim his Wimbledon crown.

Federer , on the other hand, was on a losing streak. He had not won a single tournament since the Australian Open. Many presume that the thirst in him had just died. After surpassing Pete Sampras in terms of Grand Slam victories, the Swiss maestro just could not deliver.

which brings us to the US open! Will Federer pull off a comeback similar to the one Rafael Nadal had? Better yet, can he? At 29 years of age, he’s no spring chicken.Yet tennis greats like Andre Aggasi had made similar comebacks and gone on to win 5 more Grand Slams. Obviously, there’s no real need for federer to even try to make a comeback. He’s already gone down in history as one of , if not the greatest player of all times. He can either bow out gracefully, or (more likely), summon up the will to make a fitting comeback. There’s only 1 glitch on federer’s resume: a 7:14 record against Nadal . I for one, am confident that federer would not want to end his career without having a say in the matter.

And can Nadal continue to win at the Arthur Ashe stadium, a Grand slam in which he has never reached the finals? His game is severly hampered( relatively of course ) on hard court, a surface on which he has the least victories. Can he make his way to the finals by sheer grit? Will federer be there to meet him?

Let’s find out…. It’s only just begun