And another hero is made

His name is Gagan Narang. He won the first medal for India in the London Olympics just a few hours ago. This was the first Olympic medal win for India that I watched live. His last shot was a delight. Perfection.

India's Narang on the right showing off his bronze medal at London 2012

Photo courtesy: London 2012 Photo Gallery

You could sense the depth of emotion on winning an Olympic medal – though the three winners were different pictures. Gold medallist Moldoveanu from Romania looked stoic except for his eyes. He was slow and steady throughout the ten rounds of shooting, almost always the last one to take the shot. He brought to the mind the good old adage of ‘Slow and steady wins the race’. Silver medallist, Italy’s Campriani looked the happiest, beaming all the while, even though he slipped from number one to two through the course of the ten rounds. And Narang, well aware of the fact that he was the medal debutant for India at London kept holding up his medal. Narang is no greenhorn. As I learnt during the event, Narang is a world record holder, a gold medallist in the Delhi 2010 Commonwealth Games and has been a recipient of top sports honors in India. But an Olympic medal gives you a demi-God status in India. I heard a beaming Ajay Maken, India’s Sports Minister, and one of the few ministers I actually like, tell reporters that all Olympic participants would be offered Grade B Officer jobs in the Government of India, and all medallists would be eligible for Grade A Officer jobs. Grade A Officer jobs in the Indian government are the elite and coveted Indian Administrative Services (IAS) jobs. He smiled and remarked that Narang now had a shot at becoming an IAS.

As an Indian, I have often been embarrassed by the fact that for a country that has over 1.2 billion in population and over 700 million people under the age of 30, we struggle to land a single bronze medal at the Olympics. You can gauge that by the fact that till date, India’s most successful Olympic run was in the Beijing Olympics in 2008, where India won 3, yes, three medals – one gold and two bronze medals. 


In my school going years, I never saw India win any medal at the Olympics. I grew up wishing that India would win at least one bronze. I watched the coverage of opening ceremonies with a sense of wonder. It was not until 1996 that India first won an Olympic medal in my living memory. We had last won a medal in the 1980 Moscow Olympics in men’s hockey, a gold medal at that, and while I had been born by that time, I was too young to understand international sports then. In 1996, in Atlanta, the medal won was a bronze one, by Leander Paes for lawn tennis. I didn’t watch the match, but I remember watching in the highlights later an emotional Paes touching and kissing his medal – as if to make sure it was for real, that he had ended India’s medal drought at the Olympics. Paes was a well known name in India then, but his Olympic medal made him a hero.

I remember having this conversation with an Indian teammate on the status of sports in India during the Beijing Olympics – how China, a neighbor, and also a developing country and economy like India, managed to host a brilliant Olympics and topped the medal tally with over 50 gold medals and a total of 100 medals. Compare that to the three medals we Indians won, and gloated about it since it was our best Olympic performance. It was great that we won the three medals. What disturbs me is that we didn’t win more.

I hope this bronze is just the start for us, and we are able to at least outdo our medal tally at the Beijing Olympics.

Debris

Monsoons are at their peak right now. It doesn’t rain, it pours. Everything gets flooded – my street, the empty plot in front of my house, every gap, every hole. My evening walk gets abandoned, and I feel super annoyed about it. There is debris all around. Floating, flying, lying still, even stinking. Some debris even accumulates inside my mind, but for that, I don’t blame the monsoons.

I must confess that I love the accompanying greenery, the view that I get from my terrace, sipping a cup of hot tea.

And, I love the vigorous sound of water beating water – racing down from the heavens to pound the lowly reservoir on earth – in my house, in my street, in my neighborhood, in my city. The non-stop sound of something being washed away – why doesn’t it make me feel sad? Perhaps I’m wiser. Perhaps I now understand that eventually everything will be washed away. Perhaps I understand transience now. Or, do I?

Transitions in life can be difficult. Letting go, adapting, making a new beginning can take a toll. Indifference of a person who was once close to you can hurt. But people do grow apart. Just like people go away, forever. Even if it is old age that took them away, you still feel the loss. Life can really test you at times.

This monsoon, I’m in a reflective mood. I’m wondering if some compromises are worth making. I’m also wondering how to stop feeling hurt and stupid at the actions and words of someone who, you realize, has been manipulating you for months. There are some things that are targeted right at the heart of your feeling of self worth, and even when they don’t destroy it, they leave behind a huge amount of debris. What do you do with that debris?

Gratitude

July 11^th, 2006. July 26^th, 2005.

It has been six years after the blasts, and seven after the cloudburst. But my memories of Mumbai are imprinted with what happened on these two days. Human fury, nature's fury and the kindness of friends and strangers alike.

Being dropped at my doorstep at 3 a.m. by V. The elderly neighbours' anxiety about me. Being scared to step into a local train.

Spending a night in a car. Being woken up by cold water flooding the car. A bottled water carrier's kindness in distributing bottles without charging for them. Walking all the way home.

Those experiences will be a part of who I am and how I look at life. Always.

They fill me with gratitude for my life, for the people who have been my friends and well wishers and for what I have been able to do since.

Random thoughts in Mumbai

I've always loved Mumbai. So, why didn't my initial euphoria on landing last this time?

Friends are forever. I’m full of gratitude for these three weeks that have given me an opportunity to meet them in person, some of them after 6 years. We’ve had some enlightening conversations. 


Sometimes the observer’s perspective takes you aback. I’m also battling disinterest. Why does disinterest arise? How do you find your passion? Does everybody even have a single passion? Mumbai isn’t a city I can do a not for profit job in. No. To me, Mumbai is about aspirations, and achievements. Not for giving everything away. At least, not where I stand currently in life. There is a long way to go. May be some day, I'll get where I can give away. First comes wealth, then philanthropy. 

I love the sea, though. If you know what I mean.