The importance of being grotesque …

7^th Jan, 2010…

“Ehh, Collingwood sucks. 40 runs off 189 balls. Snails are dying of contempt. Damn!! It is pathetically pathetic.”

 The operator inside my mind starts rolling his film; I am in to my memory lanes.

Someday, March 2001,

“Ehh, this teacher sucks. Three and a half out of hundred. Life is too tough after taking his papers.”

Every day, sometime, somewhere,

“Papa is a bit too strict; he always says NO and never ever bothers about us. He himself is 41 but looks older than 50. How weird?”

BELIEVE me, it is not at all important who said this, when did he/she said this. Even if you won’t, hardly matters.

By the way, for fellas not knowing Collingwood, he is a subtle English batter. In a country where class is not permanent, he stands as a pole.

Anyway, not going in to Styne-Colly war, come back to consciousness.

Just think for a couple of seconds. And you will get to know, yeah, your experience also says the same.

So, there are people who are destitute, average, commonly common, unpleasing and to a large extent UGLY.

But is it not important to have ugly people in life?

I remember…

Ohh, by the way, I have a bad habit. I remember a lot.

Yeah, so what…yes!!!

I remember once someone asked Glen Mcgrath, the only man on the planet who can bowl at the same place for years and decades without failing, “Who is the batsman you find most abrade, difficult and demoralizing to bowl to?”

“Sachin, Inzamam, Lara are quite good and so is our Punter but the person I find most annoying is Dravid.”

 “Why so?” was the next question.

“You come with desire and full strength and you are on target but he is unmoved (mentally), unfazed, as dedicated as a kingfisher, as calm as an Indian yogi and lo and behold… All the laws of momentum get lost in his calm wrist. The leather rocketed with 145 KMPH could not roll 3 meters after kissing his willow.”

“But then he does not score’s at a menacing pace, right?”

---------------------------------

Are you, any of you, of such opinion?

Let me discard the very same thought, as did Glen. I do not remember his words, thanks to power cut in our hostel. So, I’ll put it in my words.

He does and he does that in style.  He is like glue which holds the clay together and allows it to take any shape, mostly meaningful and beautiful.

When a father takes pain day and night, when he burns his age in to the hassle scintilla of life, the children get alluring light.

When people like Collingwoods and Dravids play ugly, beautifuls like Pietersens and Yuvrajs get to open up.

No building is completed without staining hands with dirt and mud. Behind every superhero’s costume there are several weavers spinning and knitting day and night non-stop..

Yes, it is important to be ugly, to be grotesque.

It is more important to respect their being, their importance and their value.

To end, this is for the finest, if not the best cricketer of all time:

With my hands down,
I delved in this cosmos.
It seemed futile and brown,
Then something linger came across.
It were you,
you vindicated my choice.
I yearned you and I earned you.
I had a hue for you,
and why should one not have,
when such a class you possess.
In every ditch,
you made a niche.
You are the only to remain on the pitch.
For your being on the crease I never prayed,
It was useless because you never betrayed.
A true leader, a true man,
You stay quiet, as you can.
May world argue, may they debilitate,
The sun may not rise,
It might not rain.
Despite of every harbinger,
there would be a man.
At least to clap, to stand, to praise,
You and your game.
One more scintillating drive,
DRAVID ONCE MORE

NOTE: This poem was written by me quite some time back. But it is still fresh and has exactly same relevance.                                                                                          
Glen Mcgrath has been one of the most accurate fast-medium bowlers in cricketing history, from Australia.