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Last Saturday was a special one for me. It was probably the first and probably the only day in my life when I had reached a stage where I was stateless. The body felt light, the limbs relaxed. The mind was empty, not a single conflicting battle, not a single feeling of hatred towards anyone, no thought of any kind. The eyes were closed and the whole body seemed to be transcending into a portal. It wasn’t a portal of darkness, it surely wasn’t dark. It was more like a portal of absence of light but definitely not dark. It was the most effortless moment of my existence. The state existed for 20 minutes or so. And finally, when the trance broke and I descended from the spiritual to the real world, my eyes were moist and I didn’t know why. And at that moment, my mind had a flush of emotions and the moist eyes were filled to the brink. I didn’t cry because I am too proud to do that but maybe I should have. Suddenly the phone rang and interrupted the emotionally charged situation.
The stateless mode had brought me face to face with my innermost emotions in their raw and purest form. It wasn’t until last Saturday that I realised how sad I was. It was the moment when all the masks which I wore in front of my friends, my parents and in front of myself were shed away and I was naked in front of myself with no other option but to face myself. And it was the toughest and ugliest of all confrontations. It was as if I was only asking questions to myself but unlike previous times my mouth wouldn’t open to give excuses, wouldn’t open so that I could blame others. It was a confrontation with myself and until this moment I hadn’t realized how strong was the hatred I had towards myself.
There must be many like me who don’t know what their ultimate goal is. Many like me who blame others for their fate. Many like me who have given up on themselves. But the problem with me is that in spite of all this. I still want that elusive, abstract thing called “greatness.” And the worst thing is I hope for these things even without trying for them.
Holding my tears back, like every other wasted teenager of my age, I turned to my laptop to distract myself. So pathetic was my state that I was countering moments of self realization with random things located on a box of silicon chips.
Nevertheless, the teenager played a random video. The match had extended into extra-time. The score was 2-1. Chelsea had just got a penalty in the 98th minute of the Champions League semi-final against Liverpool. And up stepped Frank Lampard. The funeral of Frank’s mother, Pat Lampard, had just taken place earlier that same week and it wasn’t even known if the Chelsea talisman would play or not. Chelsea were one step away from a shot at European glory and immortality. Lampard stepped up and blasted the ball into the back of the net. And as the ball landed in the back of the net, he broke into tears, hoisted a black arm band and the whole Chelsea team waved a jersey with the words “R.I.P. Pat Lampard.” His father was in the stands, also in tears and his chest pumped up , full of pride for his son.
Sport had again weaved it’s magic over me. I can tell you loads of stories about defying odds in sports but this one touches my heart the most. How can you not be romantic about football? But at this moment, the question I was asking myself was “How can you not be romantic about life?”
Yet again the phone rang. The second time to disrupt a moment of self realization. It was a phone from Delhi that my friend, Rahul Bose, had established himself among the top adjudicators in the whole country. It was just before leaving for Delhi when Rahul and I were having one of our “where is my life going” conversations. And Rahul had remarked that winning a small Internal college debate had been the peak of his life and he was simply rolling down ever since. And I felt the same. The debating triumphs in school had been the peak of my life and ever since then I was rolling down. It was scary. Here we were just 20 and already feeling that we had already reached the peaks of our lives. But when I heard the news of Rahul becoming one of the best adjudicators in the country, I started laughing thinking about that whole conversation we had had just a couple of days about peaking and all. He was back on top his world.
“Frank it’s been a myriad of emotions for you over the past couple of days, first the demise of your mother and now this.”, a reporter asked that Frank Lampard after that match winning penalty. Lampard replied, “I guess that’s life. One moment you are at an all time low and then those same emotions propel you to new peaks. This one’s for you mum.”
Life indeed is strange. One moment we are at an all time low. We feel that our best moments have gone, our best victories are beyond and we are only rolling down. But then we suddenly find ourselves tasting success and happiness again. We might be rolling down but somehow we do rise again.
We maybe at an all time low at certain moments.
But then we are nothings but “Rolling Kings” just waiting to rise again.
