Old girl, new rage

You know what happens to rage when you suppress it for a while? It turns into utmost depression. Now I'm not blaming my friends who crib to me about how much their professional life sucks, in fact I'm ready to listen to problems and sympathize -- but that's all I can do. Sympathize, not empathize. And you know why? That's 'cause I have NO professional life. Nothing to do. And yes, I was supposed to join French classes but I'm worried about the timing. What if some sucker decides to employ me at the last minute? What will happen to my classes then? What about my plans to travel before I settle? I have to travel, I just have to. Alone. Or with a bunch of random people. But I want to, I have to. Every time some one tells me they've done nothing worthwhile in life, I take a look back into mine. What have I done that is so noteworthy, besides winning a couple of Bhagavad Gita competitions, memorizing the Aditya Hrudayam, Vishnu Sahasranamam and crushing on Rahul Dravid (even now)? Nada.

Let's face it.

My life has been quite disappointing to say the least. My stash of chocolates have also disappeared. Sigh.

ECSTATIC AND ALL THAT

YAYAYAY! I'm resisting the urge to not type in caps, cannot able to and all that. Excitement is coming, I'm forgetting the English language.

So at about 11.45 am today when I was having an early lunch the doorbell rang. As usual thinking it was the maid, my mum got up to answer the door with a customary why-are-you-late question. Only it wasn't her. A guy asked for "Apoorva Sripathi?"
Amma: Yes, my daughter
Guy: Delivery from Flipkart

Me: *Putting the down plate, forgetting yechal and other nonsense brahmin traditions raised hands in mock celebration.* The book is here! Yaaaaaaaaaaay, what a wonderful way to spend my.. er.. your money, amma!
Amma to courier guy: Ok, thanks
Me: *Plate in one hand, ripping apart the packaging with the other*

Took me 4 minutes exactly to rip off packaging, and I didn't even use my teeth. This as opposed to opening the package with two hands which takes me almost 15 minutes. I think I was also quite desperate to see the book and more importantly Dravid's autograph. (Apparently only a select few will get it. Unfair no?)

After making the book pose in various positions and uploading the same on Facebook and Twitter, I've kept it on the shelf for weekend reading. Even if it means I'm going to Bangalore.

P.S. Dravid didn't autograph my copy, tche.

Months

It has been a month. A successful, glorious month. Read into it all you want but only some of you know what it is. To the others I say: Go figure.

It has also been 6 months, this again connects to the earlier sentence so very few people can decipher it. The lesser, the better.

It will be 2 months. This isn't connected to the earlier sentences but I'm hoping this gets over quickly. I'm running out of entertainment. Unless one of you is kind enough to send Rahul Dravid to my house... Hello, for a friendly chat, okay? It's not what you think. Tche tche.

He came, he saw, he conquered—and how!

I’ve never been an enthusiast of nicknames, especially misbegotten ones. I’m happy to say that my idol of 10 years is also not very fond of the sobriquet bestowed on him—The Wall.  “I’m indifferent to it,” he said, and I agree. It sounds like an insult, anyway. While Rahul Sharad Dravid is the strong and silent builder of innings, that does not make him a “wall.” That technically makes him the foundation.

On Friday afternoon, the Indian cricketing fraternity, one of the oldest and the most revered in the world, bid farewell to that strong and silent warrior after 16 years of a glorious cricketing career (tests, ODIs and T20s included). And it was only fitting that I had to be there in person. 

The name Dravid sends people into a tizzy. I remember the many heated arguments with friends, family and complete strangers I have had on how Dravid is not just good in Test cricket, but in all forms of the game. Years later when he made his T20 debut against England, he made me proud by hitting three consecutive sixes off Samit Patel.

Can you think of any other player who would’ve opened the innings, batted at Nos. 3, 4, 5 and 6 and kept wickets at the beck and call of a captain? This adaptability and versatility is what sets Dravid apart—it differentiates him from the routine and the mundane. 

Who said Dravid doesn’t take risks, or plays it safe and by the books? In fact, those who bat in a settled position are those who don’t take risks because Dravid has done it all. Hell, he has even tried his hand at bowling!

Which is the one innings that stands out the most in my mind? Adelaide. 2003. I can still visualize that day in December when I came home from school just to watch Dravid bat. I didn’t eat, didn’t change; I bunked my tuition classes and sat on the chair watching Dravid bat, watching him make those exquisite cover drives with a flick of the wrist and elegant shots in the midwicket before he got out on a splendid 233. I rose with the crowd in Adelaide and applauded. 

Each time I needed a sense of calm and peace, I’d look up his batting videos online and be content. It reassured me and bizarre as it may sound, it was as if Dravid’s batting spoke to me: everything’s going to be all right. 

One of the reasons I wanted to become a writer was so that I could interview Dravid. After reading numerous columns about Dravid, I made up my mind to somehow become a journalist-cum-writer, interview Dravid, get it published and then quit my job. That was enough, that one interview, one meet where I could confess I was his biggest fan. And on Friday, when I was clicking his photograph despite all the professional photographers pushing me away, I stood my ground and clicked away, not caring about the light, the frame or the shot. And when he glanced at me, my heart skipped a beat: I was overjoyed.

Patience, resilience, perfection, an eye for detail, perseverance, dedication, consistency…I could go on, for the words that describe Dravid are endless and no lexicographer could make an exhaustive list. It has been an honor watching him bat, and I wish it could go on, but I’ve heard that all good things must come to an end. So long, Dravid, and for your many admirers across the world like me, you will always serve as an inspiration.

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The same was published in my college website