SACHIN = HATS OFF!!!

It is irresistible to pen the thoughts that cross one's mind as Sachin decides to call it a day. It is not the run machine or the records against his name that fascinate me. It is not even his simple raising of the bat on reaching a milestone nor the humility with he doffed the skipper's cap. People may wonder as to how these aspects of a great sportsperson does not fascinate any one let alone yours truly.

Just let us look at our own livelihood and whether we have been able to last with impact for close to a quarter of a century. Government servants may serve a tenure of more than three decades but in anonymity with small contributions. Those in the private sector take to leapfrogging from one to another that sometimes service of two decades in the same entity is viewed with derision. Entrepreneurs live through their business but it is an Ambani or a Birla or a Tata who cut the ribbon. In the sports arena, life is still shorter. It may not last even a period of 5 years that persons who stride their field for a decade are considered legends. An isolated Bobby Fischer could claim to legendary status without attempting to defend his title. Therefore, the longevity of a sportsperson deserves felicitations and accolades.

There may be quarters which would rumble stating the case that it is the feat that contributes to the longevity. Talent alone may not suffice. Roll back in time and we would come across several talented players who did not live the entire span due to sheer overconfidence. The effort to innovate and keep things grounded on the shoulders of rising expectations is the root of achieving legendary status. The early break may have contributed to the feasibility of a longer tenure but the utilisation of the same to the maximum is what contributes to legendary stature.

Sachin has managed to stay rooted in the face of rising expectations, achieving expected feats that despite mounting pressure none could clearly state that he should give way. We have seen several persons go out on terms of the selectors but the best achievement is he is doffing the cap on his own terms.

Let me admit that one this count yours truly is green with envy, full of admiration for a feat that would remain to be achieved for a long time to come. Let all the records give way to this fabulous achievement!!!

HEALTH BANK FOR FRESH LEASE OF LIFE

It was a regular forward to the inbox of my mail that set me thinking. The mail was about a 11 year old who had contracted a rare disease which was to be met with a treatment that was expensive. The reading of this mail took me to the day I had the occasion to interact with some who had set up a date with the Alzheimer's. These gutsy people too did not complain about they having been chosen for the date but were looking at avenues to meet the costs of the treatment.

Move over and we find NGOs as well as individuals who are willingly to spare the extra penny or make over the rupee by cutting on some comfort to a genuine needy person. A visit to most hospitals treating the reviled cancer shows that blocks have come up on the generosity of such individuals. 

The two scenarios make it clear that the link of connecting the needy to the willing is not definitely established in all cases. Some are fortunate for the media to assist in their hour of crisis while others face times of adversity by grinning and grimacing at the situations that confront them. The email prodding me to sign a petition to the Health Minister was a simple click away but several minutes of ruminating over and an inadvertent click later, I found that we should be aspiring for a better solution than to expect the Government to intervene in every matter.

Imagine a Health Bank that would attract donations which would entitle the donor to a 100% tax rebate. This Bank would attract the generous to donate their mite. An initial contribution of a day's salary by all Government servants, politicos and persons enrolled to the New Pension Scheme would ensure that the corpus is large enough to set the Bank rolling.

The corpus so derived could be invested in gilt bonds to ensure that the investments are inflation immune. The income of such Health Bank needs to be exempted from taxes and hence the Bank should be a 100% subsidiary of the Reserve Bank of India. This would also ensure that the management is in secure hands and at no time the same would be subject matter of scams. In addition to the statutory audits of the Comptroller and Auditor General, the donors may also audit by appointing an auditor or more to ensure that the annual reports are free and fair.

The pooling of the funds and its management being framed, the moot question would be how would one determine the donee who would be entitled to the support or the extent to which they would be entitled. This needs the active support of the medical fraternity. They would require to identify the needy and also mention the extent of the rebate they are willing to provide on the treatment. The minimum is that the professional fees are waived by the doctors and the hospital waives the ward charges. This would ensure that the cost of the medicines is picked by the Bank. The costs should be at wholesale rates which would be directly met to the manufacturer. This way the true needy person derives the benefits.

The benefits could be extended on a proportionate basis by all concerned in case wherein the patients would be able to meet a portion of the cost. This would be an alternative social security scheme in place with zero involvement of the Government. This would also revive the spirit of co-existence which is ebbing away especially in urbane India. If NGOs can inspire faith why not a Health Bank?

It would also be necessary to rope in each automobile manufacturer to provide a well equipped ambulance as part of Corporate Social Responsibility to the Health Bank which could deploy the same on need basis to all districts. The para medical staff of the Bank as well as the drivers would thus provide yeoman's service to their bretheren in need. The charges collected could meet partially the costs of maintaining the service. The remnant could be picked up by a corporate as part of their Corporate Social Responsibility.

Is anyone listening? The above may not be the ultimate and may require lot of further fine tuning but could a beginning be made? 

GUNDI HAAKU 88- A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

The reunion was finally happening the next day. One of the friends had taken the responsibility of picking yours truly at the doorstep. Nostalgia had been given a full build up through relentless mailing, facebook posts as well as youtube videos. It was no more a question of months or days. It was just the night between. The palpable excitement deferred my sleep and yours truly rose with the excitement of a schoolboy venturing into college for the first time.

A quick breakfast over as my friend and I went through the motions of reaching the venue, the reticent and shy self that yours truly had been in college days resurfaced. Doubts on the cognitive abilities were expressed and assuaged. The thought of spending time with nearly 80 of the "young" batch of friends with whom we had lost touch was a sense of joy but the agenda set to begin with an ice breaking session was reassuring to clear the air.

Checking in, my friend led me to a few tasks which involved the recollection of the faces as the names were being placed on the memento bags for the enthusiastic crowd which was beating all odds to be there. A tinge of regret for one of the guys who motivated us to the reunion being unable to make it due to ill health only steeled our spirits to do justice to their efforts.

Clad in the T shirt provided, we made our way to the venue of the event. For posterity's sake yours truly chose this blog as a means to record the historic event though several cameras were doing the job even as some videos rolled. A suave compere played the role of moderating even as one of them mimicked our Principal to drive us to our seats as well as to button up as the event was to zip through at a fast pace.

Wristbands were distributed to segregate groups and we were to get the names of all in our group within a couple of minutes in a typical Indian team huddle. Not being one famed for cognitive abilities or memory games, the muttering of names led to three of us being marked aside ( Should I say it was a welcome relief to the open embarassment of not being able to muster even half the names in the given time). The introduction round went hands down to the ones with the Purple bands as they chose to stutter our pa pa pa purple much to the amusement of all. There was one group which incidentally found they had no girls in it. The amusement was beyond control when it was realised that the colour of their bands was red. A danger signal designed by coincidence for the Dostana group. As this went a step further to the merger of the groups, the merger of the purple and yellow group led to its constituents calling themselves Pearly. As this camaraderie was being built up, the lecturers were led in and took the centre table.

Thereafter, the college prayer was recited in unison albeit being led by one truly humble as his name suggests and who still knew it by the rote. A minute's tribute paid to those who left us behind preferring the union with the Ultimate Being. An invocation rendered  set in place the stage for the felicitation of the Gurus who were responsible for our present status in society. No words would do any justice to the presidential addresses. Time flitted past as we gave a standing ovation in gratitude for their moulding as well as accepting the invite and being at the venue providing us the best souvenir of the reunion.

As the lecturers bid us farewells in fond hope for a reunion and assuring of their presence for our golden jubilee celebrations which were only 25 years away, we took a short break to catch up on the sidelines of the event.

Post break it was time to share our experiences at college over the microphone. The icebreaking complete, we reminisced the old days, thanked the core group for putting up the event. A cake was ceremoniously cut by four members. The D- day thus marked, champagne was uncorked and the spirits soared as we also broke into a dance. As all partied, some of us took to a walk and wrapped up in time while a few gals left for the day. Some lived the night with a Mohd Rafi belting all melodies. Nexr day we woke to camaraderie, exchanging contact info which was followed by Housie by a traditional conductor who ducked most numbers with panache. The highlight of the Housie being the non residents winning a prize money. The karaoke and antakshari sent us back to the days of the farewell at college. Yes it was time to say farewell with a promise to meet, keep in touch and share our moments of living.

As one of our lecturers put it the planning, execution and implementation would have left anyone else speechless but for the batch of Gundi Haaku 88!!!

SARDAR PATEL TO TELENGANA

It is said that a proud Indian who answered to the name Sardar Vallabhai Patel told Lord Mountbatten that he had all the 560 apples in his basket even as he handed over a basket of apples to him. The rustic Iron Man of India had picked the gauntlet of coaxing, cajoling, enticing and if it warranted coercing the kingdoms into a union. It was this accomplishment and the simple metaphor used by him that have remained imprinted in my mind from my childhood days. Much later, I had the occasion to read some of the letters penned by him to various rulers and their dewans. The flavour of the book lay in the precise writing of the letters, drawing of attention of the need for co-existence by alluding to a local delicacy. 

Swing from there to the present era, we are on the verge of having one more State. Boundaries are being drawn within boundaries. First it was linguistic sentiment, now it is regionalism within the linguistic flavour and soon other criteria may follow to reach or cross the milestone of 560.

Imagine the consequences. We would have children who would wonder how their parents claim that they knew the names of all the States and their capitals. We may also be baffled to know the names and portfolios of the men in power. Administration would suffer in quality as vision would narrow down to micro issues leaving the national scene far behind. Vision itself may need to be a specialised course imparted in premier institutions. We would have more employment opportunities in the babudom and the netadom.

Well, it could also lead to a situation of requiring passports and visas to travel within our desh mahaan. Or the present Aadhaar may provide us some concession of stamping on entry. 

In an era of consolidation, we should learn from the Russian experience of breaking away or the European experience of integrating on limited counts. The true tribute we could pay this great may on each of his birthdays falling on 31st October, is to start integrating States. Could we start with Telengana and Seemandhra remaining integrated for this year and vowing to realise the dream of the Sardar of a single India.

There may be several questions regarding the need for administration of a growing population, But imagine the kind of facilities the Sardar enjoyed. He travelled in a rickety car which would not race him to any place. The phones he used are of antique value. The manpower he controlled was not sure who was their leader. The citizens he administered were tearing between shifting loyalties. The economic dependence was its pinnacle while the defence was left unspoken about.  The difference was and remains to be the difference is that he defined his work and just did it. Guha does not consider Patel to be a thinker and categorises him as a doer. But with due apologies, yours truly believes, the Sardar remains unmatched in vision and deed. Time did not permit him to go ahead and leave a stronger bond. This is what we should supplement and complement.

Let us hand him a salute he deserves and if we do feel that he does not deserve the salute, let us at least agree that his meritorious work should not be undone.

LESSONS FROM A YOUNG TEACHER

A hectic day was in progress and temperatures were rising. Even as I battled to maintain cool, a young visitor emerged with a sunny smile. One look at the young boy led to a sea change in the atmospherics. I rose and in a couple of steps we were in each others arms. 

As I exchanged notes with him, my mind raced nostalgically to his younger encounters with me. But the memory of our last meeting kept resurfacing. The boy had lost his father which was a rude shock to us and we had gathered in a vain attempt to provide solace to the bereaved. Imagine this young tiny tot who was still in his single digits by age, taking me through the events of his father's demise even as he lay motionless. It was one of those rare occasions when the eyes of yours truly went moist and was rendered speechless. The only thing that was spoken to the young lad was a real hug more as a measure to control my emotions than to console him. Reprimanding the grieving and telling them to learn from the young lad, we left for our homes. The truth was those statements were in reality directed at yours truly but spoken out to others.

A couple of telephonic conversations were all we had exchanged in the interim period but there was no gaps in our communication. He instantly picked threads and we just left the rest of them speechless with our banter. The boy was giving me another lesson of life- "Move on". Glad for him and absorbing the subtle lessons he imparted to me, I bid goodbye to him extracting a word that he would drop in someday with the rest of his family.

His name spells winter but he has been an eternal spring for me. Gratitude for the lessons imparted being directed in the form of warm wishes and hugs for him, I look forward for this young teacher to initiate me in more ways than one.

CONNECTIONS OR CROSS CONNECTIONS?

I was in search of an accomodation and a lady colleague had located one. After paying a visit and negotiating the terms with the landlord we stopped by at a restaurant for a breakfast. Locating a free table was in itself an arduous task. As I wondered whether we could give the breakfast a skip, we found a table which was occupied on one side by a lady and a young kid savouring poories. A quick decision was made to occupy the other side of the table.

Orders placed for the breakfast and being intimated that it would take some time, we exchanged notes. It did not take long for us to intervene in the discussion between the child and the lady. The kid initially warmed upto my colleague. Turning on my best charms, I invited the kid for a competition. The novel competition would ensure that the loser would end up at the kitchen of the hotel. The quick thinker in the kid was on display in a trice as he transferred a couple of poories to his mother's plate. Excitedly, merely shades below the Eureka act, I cried that he was cheating. Blissfully into the world of the child, the real world around was given a go by. The dishes arrived and the conversation warmed up. There was coaxing, cajoling and a display of fast consumption to drive the kid to finish his breakfast.

Instead, he slowly switched sides, manouvred to hold our hands and thereafter block us from rising to wash. Our other duties were put on hold as the primary task of ensuring that the kid had his fill. Soon the time for parting ways dawned. But the kid had other plans. He tagged on to us and left his mother in a dilemma. He took my number on to his mother's cell and clung on. Even as I tried to shift him onto the Bolero his mother had brought, he clambered out and rushed to the two wheeler parked by my friend. After a couple of trips, we achieved the goal of parting with tears in the eyes of the kid and our minds heavy with thoughts. Were we right in denying the kid the warmth he desired innocently? Were we hypocrites in not reciprocating undiluted warmth ? The kid had given us everything he could - the unparalleled affection with no strings attached and as adults who lay claim to maturity and reason, we unceremoniously disconnected ourselves and distanced ourselves for eternity. 

It was in one of those mystical books maybe the Monk who sold the Ferrari or the Alchemist that I had read about time and connections which have an internal meaning. Was this the connection the author referred to? One thing is certain, I did not understand the mystical connection nor utilised the window of opportunity given to establish the connection. Another occasion that will keep me ruminating for years to come. 

A couple of days later I was journeying on a train and had a gurkha and his family for company. His wife, a son aged two years and another aged 8 months were with him. Even as they were trying to rein the elder one in , the younger one attempted to chew into a ripped up portion of the window pane and started bleeding. I immediately asked whether anyone had cold water with them. The father pulled out one cold water bottle and poured the chilled contents into the lid. The numbing effect was great and the kid pulled the bottle and rested it on its lips. The sensibility displayed by the kid could be passed off as a survival instinct but it did marvel me. Connecting the two, I patted the kid on its cheeks to elicit a bright smile - minutes after it was hurt. A lesson was learnt- put the bitter things behind yourself to savour the joys of life. 

The meaning of the first connection still befuddles me. Any answers???

LET'S PLAY CRICKET GENTLEMAN

“ It’s cricket, gentleman” used to be a way of reprimanding a person to be fair in any sphere. The “Test” of fairness was dealt a bodyblow in an Anglo Aussie series which in itself was considered a blot on the fair name of the gentleman’s game. The innovation in the form of one dayers and whetting up the appetite of blitzkrieg seekers by twenty twenty has ensured that the game is no more gentleman’s forte but more of a gladiators’ game watched by the mirthful spectators. It’s therefore not a wonder that the people have reduced them to be on par with the horses on a racetrack or pieces in a game of dice. Irony is that the cricketers instead of expressing anguish or ire at being treated as gladiators or racehorses have ventured to be part of the betting syndrome with a vengeance to rake in the moolah for the gross reduction in their human stature.

Money is a mere instrument of transaction created by man. Should the creator of the instrument become a slave of the instrument? Should not we distinguish ourselves from the primal instinct to treat fellow humans as objects of pleasure? Is this not an act that would compare with the bestial pleasure of prostitution or the beastly act of two gladiators contesting for the pleasure of the cowardly spectators or a gladiator battling a rogue beast as a matador battles a bull?  Whither is the evolution of man as a human being?

The sport being reduced to a vice of gambling on the honour of a fellow human indicates the nadir of ethical values to which humans have unabashedly reached. It is time to redeem ourselves and free ourselves from the vice of gambling for a few pieces of currency. It is an undoubted fact that the money that we gather accumulates foes and fetches envy while the goodwill of a person remains intact and grows with time. This fact was reinforced in me at the funeral of a senior citizen who remained the eternal gentleman to his last days. The man was a genial father to his children and a warm uncle to their friends. He had the generosity to part with the bare minimum savings a small sum as pocket money for the school trips even for these friends. He literally walked the earth and a distance of 5 to 6 miles was walkable for this affable gentleman. He ensured that the guests to his home were well entertained and took the right mode of conveyance for their return. The Walker’s last breath was accosted by persons from his early friends to latest acquaintances taunting death for having befriended this man. The best tribute came from his own brother who without batting an eyelid said, “ Here goes a true gentleman.” He had indeed been a true gentleman who had ensured that his grieving family received the solace from teeming numbers.

It was indeed a wakeup call to ensure that one starts treating money with the respect it deserves, nothing more or nothing less. Respect to fellow human beings is a virtue that needs to be cultivated to save the society from degenerating further and reach the bottomless pit. Gen Y can do it but let us at least begin instilling these values in Gen Z as a token contribution to atone the sins of degenerating thus. Are the Sreesanths possible without us? Can bookies exist without punters? Let us heed to this danger signal before it is too late. The entrails have been infested and it is time to start the healing process by reverting to the ethical ways of life.