The little girl...

The little girl struck the first matchstick against the wall, and cupped it with her tiny hands, as it sputtered and came to life. The darkness was dispelled by the bright, yellow light and a heavenly warmth filled the air. The winter was severe this year and that night was particularly bad. The streets were empty and noone ventured outdoors, not even the dogs. Her feet were bare and her flimsy top and skirt did nothing to keep the cold out. She slowly moved the matchstick close to her feet, careful not to put it out, because she knew there were only two more sticks to keep her warm until morning. Her feet were lifeless; numb and blue from the cold and from treading on the snow. She tried twitching her toes, but they wouldn't move. As she took the matchstick closer to her toes, the snow around her feet glistened in the bright light. The snow!! How she had loved playing in the snow!! How her mother used to wrap her up in warm clothes and sit next to her by the fireplace as they watched the snowfall from the window..."I want to play in the snow mommy...just once", she used to plead. Her mother used to hug her tight and say, "No sweetie, you'll feel cold...You see the top of those mountains there, far away? That's where your daddy is". "But mommy, wont daddy feel cold?" The smile on her mother's face used to fade away momentarily. "Oh yes sweetie. He will...But soon, he'll come back to us. I promise you, he will..." The little girl slowly drifted off into the unforgettable memories of those happier days. She had almost forgotten the pain in her feet, when she was rudely awakened from her dream by a chilly gust of wind. And then, there was darkness...The warmth was gone and she once again felt the sharp pain throughout her body. It was unbearable!!

With shivering hands, she struck the second match stick against the wall. The heat was soothing, and as it slowly eased the stiffness in her limbs, she felt another stinging pain in her stomach. A kind-hearted lady had given her a small cup of rice and some dhal that morning, but she hadnt been so lucky since then. Every time she asked for food from the neighbors, she was reminded of her father. "Never take anything from others, my dear", he had advised her. "But you never buy me anything daddy. You're always in those mountains." Her daddy used to kiss her forehead and say, "Do you see those white mountains there, my dear?", pointing his finger to the north..."There are bad people beyond those. They want to take away our homes. But soon, daddy will be with sweetie...and will buy her everything in the world"..."Cant you bring them home daddy? We can all be together". Her father used to laugh at this and say, "When you grow up into a big girl, I'm sure you'll do it..."......The little girl slowly got up on her feet and pressed her face to the window of the house. There was a fireplace and there were people sitting at the dining table, eating and chatting merrily. Just like home, she thought!!...She watched the match stick, as it burnt the little fingers that held it. And she was surprised that she felt no pain. But she knew that, in an instant, she would be in a far greater agony.

She quickly struck the third matchstick, the last one!! She was beginning to feel tired and sleepy, just like the other night..........A tall gentleman wearing a black hat had taken notice of the little girl, curled up in a corner by the road. And his heart went out to her. He walked up to her, bent over and enquired, "Are you feeling cold, my child? Have you eaten? Come with me and I'll give you some rice". "Will I feel warm, uncle?". "Oh yes, child..you will", he replied with a pleasant smile. The little girl followed him to his house...and to his inner room. He gave her rice and vegetables. That was the best meal she had had in a long time, but she was beginning to feel tired and sleepy. The gentleman touched her shoulder gently and said, "Lie down on my bed, my child. You can leave when its bright and warm." She remembered little after that, and the next morning, she found herself in the snow, by the road, her entire body aching like never before........Sleep was taking over now, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. She was lying in the snow, but strangely, there was no pain in her limbs or her stomach. Only the weariness. Her mother had once told her that, after their final sleep, people would go to a place without pain and hunger. And that it would be filled with warmth and joy. At last, she would feel warm, she thought. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't...She couldn't move. She was looking at the vast black sky studded with beautiful white dots. Giving in to her weariness, she closed her eyes peacefully, knowing that it was a better place that she was going to....

The Wall...standing tall

I take pride in saying that I have been an admirer of this man right from his debut. Practically every cricket follower around, used to ridicule me for my "poor taste" and these discussions would run into hours and I'd find myself up against the whole crowd, trying desperately to prove a point.
"Has he ever shown his worth?", "He's so slow, he's going to be dropped from a test match, like Boycott was, for selfish batting!!", "He's no good for the 50 over game" were the usual complaints. There were better judges of cricketing techniques around me, but somehow they chose to speak ill of him, more often because they didnt believe in him, and sometimes for the pleasure of ganging up against a poor soul, that was wise enough to foresee the rise of one of the best batsmen in contemporary world cricket!!! Lord, forgive these ignorant men!! ;-)
His flawless technique (discounting his relative weakness against leg spin), the ease with which he tackles the most ruthless of bowling attacks on the deadliest of pitches, his determination to make the bowlers pay with blood and sweat for his wicket and ofcourse, his sparing displays of emotion(unlike the former captain!!) are all widely acknowledged and appreciated.
But that which impresses me every time I watch him at the crease, is his uncanny ability to let a ball pass without doing it any harm, and more importantly, to himself. Agreed that its not as entertaining as the flamboyant strokes of sachin or the agricultural smacks of dhoni. But, from my modest ventures with the game, I can definitely say that its not easy to show restraint. When the likes of akthar and lee are pounding on your toes and skull alternately, and then, there suddenly comes a short, wide ball saying "hit-me", where is the time to resist the temptation?(ask sehwag!!) Any batsman will find himself slashing at it wildly, and if lucky at the end of it, will manage a sheepish grin or a tense stroll down the pitch, whispering to himself nervously, "control yaar....Greg tera band baja dhega!!".
But for our man, on the other hand; the Rawalpindi express comes chugging in all the way from the pavilion, straining every muscle and delivers a 150kph fireball with a loud grunt of exertion. In response, the wall simply yawns in his face and lazily lifts his bat to let it pass. It is as though, he has all the time in the world to assess the line of the delivery, to calculate that its about 10 inches outside the off-stump and hence harmless, to recall that there is a bugger at third man, to remind himself that the next in line is the worthless kaif and finally ofcourse....a flash of Greg :-) As my friend once told me, for great people time moves so slowly that they almost know whats going to happen next!!
The only fitting reward for this man, would be the world cup 2007 under his leadership, and ofcourse, the khel ratna. Lets see if he shows some emotion atleast then!!

Of pain and death...

It is indeed a dark topic to start a blog with. But I am no psychopath, a sadist or a masochist. It is by sheer coincidence (thanks to a late nite show of Final Destination2 last nite and a scary flight journey this morning) that I choose this topic as my first post.
So, coming back to the topic, why do people fear death? No..no. This isnt a philosophical question. Infact, I'm trying to approach this logically (to all lovers of philosophy, I dont mean to say that philosophical is illogical!!). What is so scary about death? Is it the love for the people around us? "ohh...what will happen to those who depend on me? what about my sister's marriage?.." ya..ya..agreed. But is that the primary reason?....Or, is it because one cannot enjoy the luxuries of life anymore? No more happiness, no more love and no more BEER??!!! Hmm, well, doesnt sound too convincing. I mean, you wont be missing those or craving for those luxuries once you're gone. After all, you'll be dead!!
Imagine yourself in an aircraft, cruising at the height of 10,000 ft. Suddenly, you're hit by violent turbulence followed by a loud, gut-wrenching noise. And after a few tense moments, the pilot announces, "Passengers, thats it guys. This is the end. We're facing the usual 'technical snag'. Happy landing!!" The aircraft goes hurtling down and you are but a few minutes away from a spectacular end. So what is it that drives you crazy, makes you cry and pray?...I would say, its the fear of pain!!
This is no big revelation, but it is indeed queer to think that these few moments of pain that one experiences before death, is that which is feared the most!!! One prefers to spend 14yrs in a prison cell, than suffer the few moments of pain while hanging from a noose, and be gone...peacefully. So, I guess, most people believe that physical pain is way more painful than its mental counterpart. Else, we would have atleast a million cases of suicidal deaths everyday!!
This makes me wonder, "how painful can death be? And how long does the agony last?". It cant be more than a minute or two. But try sitting in a quiet room and concentrating on the seconds hand of a clock until it completes 2 full rotations, and you'll know how long 2mins can be.
Personally, I dread the idea of running short of breath. I'm sure everyone does, but I'm kinda hyper about it. I get desperate and very restless when I cant get a good shot of air into my lungs. And I think its one of the worst ways to die!!
Imagine that you wake up suddenly to find that you're in a coffin that is barely big enough to hold you. There's absolutely no room to move your hands or your feet. You cannot thrash about, as you would, if you were drowning in water. You cannot clutch your throat with your hands. Not that its going to make you feel any better. But the idea of lying absolutely still, and staring at the roof of the coffin, which is barely an inch from my nose and struggling desperately for air, makes my stomach feel queasy. Come on, I'm in greaaat pain, and all I can do is, lie absolutely still...and cry!!!
This reminds me of a scene from The House of Wax. A guy is captured and turned into a wax doll by bathing him in a cauldron of boiling hot liquid wax!! And next, you see him as a wax exhibit in front of a piano, frozen in the posture of a pianist. His still face looks calm and sports a happy smile. But a closer look reveals his eyes, red with pain and tears running down his cheeks!!! The contrast was chilling...
"He died peacefully in his sleep". I think thats a biggg misconception. I know of a, lets say, a friend who was so weak in her last few months that she could barely lift her plate. And she died of a cardiac arrest...peacefully in her sleep so to speak. Just that her hands were lying by her side, with fists clenched around her earrings, and her earlobes torn apart and hanging loose...now thats something pain can do!!
In my opinion, the best of these..devils..is a bomb explosion. Before you know what hit you, your brain is taking a walk!! So, one has to be fortunate to meet his end in a bomb blast or what??!! ;-)
But whatever said, this agony lasts hardly a minute. So, isnt the amount of fear disproportionate, considering the duration of the agony and also considering that everything ends after that one minute? There is no feeling of guilt, there is no feeling of remorse..nothing after that minute!!
Now, is this what certain training camps around the world teach people??!!!!! ;-) just kidding...