My mother handed me a short poem in Gujarati language when I was getting ready to leave my home after my wedding. While times have changed and such feelings don't ring true as a result of weddings anymore (they did during her youth)... I am very well aware that she has felt this way ever since I moved out of our home to come to the USA to pursue higher education and better life. She always used to say that it was a way of life for the baby birds to grow into adults and eventually fly out of the nest. Every time I read these beautiful lines, they leave me with a knot in my throat. She is a strong woman and I love her infinitely. I have tried to translate it in English here: Finally the end of sleepless nights has arrived, Eventually the wedding ceremonies have come to an end, Now this mother is back to the daily routine, She is counting all the household items one by one, And arranging them all with care, Plates, bowls, glasses, utensils, Nothing has been lost, Everything is in place, But, All of a sudden she remembers something and, She stops in the middle of the hallway, Her eyes are now filled with tears, As a bitter question comes to her mind: Where is my daughter? Original Poetry in Gujarati: આખરે ઉજાગરાનો અંત આવ્યો લગન ઊકલી ગયા માં હવે ઘરની ચીજવસ્તુઓ ગણે છે સંભારી સંભારી મેળવે છે સંભારી સંભારી ગોઠવે છે થાળી, વાટકા, ડીશ, ગ્લાસ, બધું બરાબર છે ક્યાંક કશું ખોવાયું નથી કશુંય ગયું નથી પણ અચાનક કાઈક યાદ આવતા ઈ ઓરડા વચ્ચે ઉભી રહી જાય છે આંખો માંથી ટપકું ટપકું થાય છે ખરો ખરો પ્રશ્ન: મારી દિકરી ક્યાં?
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A gentle reminder of our insignificance. “to really put us Earthlings in our place in the Grand Scheme, please have a look at another famous image, the Pale Blue Dot – a photograph taken of the Earth (the tiny pale speck, top center) by Voyager 1 in 1990 from 4 billion miles away (about 6 light-hours). Words of astronomer Carl Sagan about this Pale Blue Dot: “That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar”, every “supreme leader”, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.” The story of the uncle-
One fine Saturday afternoon, my parents and I were enjoying lunch at Amul India Restaurant in Columbus, Ohio. We were the only people there at 4 PM. We were all looking at the fish tank close to the entrance. There were 3 fishes in there. 2 of them were tiny and playful while the 3rd one was bigger, fatter, had a wicked look and it simply stared at us; it looked ready to bite any moment. The owner walked towards us for making a conversation. Since we all are Indians, we managed to find a connection. We talked about India. Then he informed us that most of his friends happened to be from Gujarat which is my home-state. He shared that used to visit my hometown Amdavad to sell potatoes with his father, an occupation that helped feed his family. He revealed that this is why he understood my mother tongue language – Gujarati – very well. Who would have thought that a staunch Punjabi uncle like him would know Gujarati! It was such a strange and pleasant co-incidence! The story of the fishes- Anyway…then he went on to tell us the story of the 3 fishes in his fish tank that we were looking at. It was quite difficult to own fishes, he declared. The scary looking slightly bigger fish had managed to eat or kill all the other smaller fishes he had brought to this tank. But it never even touched those two little ones. Those two smaller fishes were brought to his tank together with bigger one. They were new borns then and had grown up together in his tank. They must have built some kind of kinship…that we humans wouldn’t understand, he added quietly. The story of the monkey- This reminded me of a story that my mother had told me once. Once upon a time, a monkey and a man had climbed up a tree trying to escape from a hungry lion. But lion was relentless and sat at the base waiting for one of them to fall or come down. After several hours, when it got dark, monkey and man got tired. But what if they fell down? So, they decided to take turns to sleep while the other watched out for the lion. Man slept first and monkey was on watch. The shrewd lion tried to cut a deal that if monkey pushed the man down, monkey could have its freedom. Monkey got angry and said that he would never deceive his friend. A few hours later, it was monkey’s turn to sleep and for the man to be on watch. The lion tried the same deal with man. Man saw the opportunity in this idea. He impulsively pushed the monkey but the smart monkey had tied its tail to the branch so it wouldn’t fall. Monkey said to the man…I knew I could never trust a human Just like most other Saturdays, I drove to Dosa Corner – an unconventional small South Indian restaurant in Columbus. It was one of my favorite places and it was my ritual to go there once a week. Although it is not supposed to be a hang-out place, I made it one for myself. Owner uncle, who usually wore an austere expression, had became friends with me over the last few years. We used to talk about his family, his roots, his business, etc. He had a typical Indian who-cares-if-not-mine attitude.
Anyways, so this one evening as I walked into the tiny restaurant I noticed that the car parked in front of the restaurant had its headlights on and it seemed to be unintentional. I also noticed that the place was unusually jam packed busy, which made it difficult to assume whose car it might be. So I walked up to the owner uncle, greeted him, placed my order and informed him that someone had left their car headlights on expecting him to inform his customers so their car battery won’t drain out. To my surprise, he carelessly waved off my comment by saying he was not going to announce-shonnounce to anyone. They should learn to take care of their cars and their headlights themselves, he said. On and on he kept going, saying mean things. I was surprised at his irritability but then decided he was probably just having a bad day (or maybe he was just being himself) and focused on the food that had just been served to me. About half hour later as I walked up to the counter to pay the bill, a waiter rushed through the entrance door loudly declaring that uncle had left his car’s headlights on. Yes, the same car that I had warned uncle about. Owner-uncle instantly shot a glance at me as to examine whether I had heard the guy. Generally we share a small conversation before I leave, but this time he avoided me for the rest of the time I was around. And to save him anymore embarrassment, I left quietly. The point was made and it was just too funny to be true! I am a huge Rafa fan. The first time I saw him play was in the 2009 Australian Open. Thereafter, this book sealed the deal for me. I haven't updated my review since I wrote it in 2012 as I wanted to maintain the purity of my feelings from back then. 💙 💚 However, memories came rushing when Roger Federer won his 18th Grand Slam title last night at the Australian Open against Rafa Nadal in the finals. Rafa’s book is an account of a human turned into a super-hero (joking ofcourse). It is, however, a story of how Rafa Nadal came to being a prodigious athlete. It reveals the enormity of mental, physical and emotional strength needed to have 9 Grand Slam victories at the age of 24 in what has been called the Golden age for Tennis. He is already acclaimed as one of the greatest tennis players of all times. (Update: As of 8 June 2014, he has now won 14 Grand Slam Titles with the 9th French Open title in his bag, matching the record of Pete Sampras.)
I felt that every lesson from Rafa’s tennis life could be applied to my non-tennis life; infact the extent to which he keeps trying, makes me feel ashamed and very self conscious of how less I try for anything! Rafa is reaping the fruits of his sacrifices and perseverance since his childhood. It is no wonder that he plays on the court as if he were out in a war. He appears almost as if he is in trance, he is no longer himself. He does not care who is on the other side of the net, he is relentless. He has only one goal, to play his best game and not to lose a single point. With this fire in his belly, he shouts at himself in the mirror VAMOS VAMOS VAMOS in his dressing room before the game begins. He contrasts this (in the book) with Federer who is there with him in that same dressing room, lying on the bench in a meditative mode in accordance with his permanent calm demeanor. He describes how his life is not perfect and hunky-dory as it may appear at the surface. Rafa is aware that he is not naturally gifted or a beautiful player like Roger Federer is. He faces every day challenges & dilemmas as any of us do of depression, sadness, boredom, exhaustion. But his determination only makes him emerge out to be stronger than before. His parents separation left him devastated. He carries his own bag of weaknesses, a gentle reminder that he is after all a human only. He has suffered several career-threatening injuries that could have easily allowed him to slide on tennis rankings with the world’s sympathy on his side. Instead, time and again, he valiantly emerged out of the situation and continued to play to win. His doggedness to give his heart and soul into each point has been ingrained in his genes thanks to Uncle Toni who never tolerated a single excuse for not playing well. This included feeling sick, bad weather, old tennis balls, broken racquets. Just when one thought that Rafa had tried hard enough, Uncle Toni would push even harder and very commonly Rafa would return home crying after practice. However it is for the same reason that family members often had an altercation with Uncle Toni. Even Rafa is often found saying…Uncle Toni is Uncle Toni after all. This reinforces something that I personally apply in my own life – to take criticism with an open mind and low ego in order to keep improving. Uncle Toni is the pillar behind Nadal’s conquests. Nadal’s exceptionally tightly knit family more than made up for the hardships he has faced through their immense love, affection and presence. Nadal’s father presented an unswervingly calm demeanor at all times, especially during his injuries willing to find alternatives that would make him happier. His mother gave him a normal home to come back to. In this glitzy world of celebrities, Rafa received no distinctive treatment or celebrations at home for his victories. They have repeatedly taught him that to be a good person is more important than to be a winner. Saints have spoken about living in the present, and Rafa lives it so. He is almost spiritual in nature without thinking about it so. I did a recount of all my life’s regrets and realized how much I am left behind crying over those rather than moving on. If you compare every point he plays to every incident in my life (since every point he plays has as much story and pouring of everything he has in himself as I did in these incidents of my life), I now recognize that I did not do as much as I could have if I really badly wanted something. An example that will stay with me for the rest of my life is that the night when he won US Open 2010 championship, he slept for only 3-4 hours, the same suite followed the 2nd night and he still went to practice on the 3rd morning with Uncle Toni as per their regular schedule as if it was just another day. There were no celebrations at home and, no paparazzi, no fans, and no excuses not to practice. This story of Rafa’s life is told in between the running account of some of the well-known matches starting with the Finals of Wimbledon 2008 that Rafa won against then world number 1 Roger Federer and ending with the Finals at the US Open 2010 against the unstoppable Novak Djokovic. Inspite of having seen many of these matches, reading about them from Nadal’s perspective was a thrill and pure joy. |
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