The Endgame - Part 2

He is 29 years old. Faded blue shirt. Faded blue Jeans. Lean. Long hair. Expressive eyes. A chiseled jawline. A handsome guy.

And he's just been saved by the hand of god.

The sky opens up with the light of the day as he makes his way away from the bridge. He has a black mask on. There is a virus eating the planet. His heart is light as he walks the 5 miles to the animal shelter. And his heart also dreads at meeting with Tanya, his German shepherd. How do you make peace with someone you have deserted?

He passes a Coffee shop, a rich aroma of fresh brew in the air. He is tempted but then shakes his head. Tanya first. He reaches the animal shelter. It's 8.30 am. He knows it doesn't open before 11 am. He waits patiently on the steps. He has a closer look at the jacket given to him by Hagrid.

It’s well-worn and scruffy at the edges. He puts his hands in the right pocket of the jacket and finds a ring. It looks like platinum but then it isn't like anything found on this planet. He slips it on the fourth finger of his right hand. And gets hit by a blast of  raw energy.

The Armor of god. He knows he will never take it off. Ever.

The owner of the dog shelter is not surprised to see him. She looks at him and says quietly 'Something told me you are a keeper. And keepers don't desert no one. And she needs you'. The 29 year old looks at her and nods, unable to find the words.

He goes to the kennel where Tanya is kept. A bowl of food and water is kept inside. Both are untouched. Tanya is lying on the floor, her brown fur matted with dust and a distant look in her eyes. He removes his mask and says softly. 'Hi sweetie, I am back'...Tanya’s ears perk up and she gets up. She looks at him.  And then walks away to a corner of the kennel and looks away. He feels a dread in his heart. 'I know Tanya. I am so sorry'. She’s not interested. What do you do with someone who has slowly switched off for weeks, grown distant and finally abandoned you? And now he comes back when he pleases.

The lyrics of a timeless song floats in the air - It sure took a long time to miss me... A long time for you to come around.... A long time to find what was wrong.. Sure took a long long time.

He doesn't say anything. Just kneels down and put his hands around her neck and buries his face in the warm fur. And cries. 'I just wanted to die. I am sorry I didn't think of what would happen to you. I got saved by Hagrid today...I got my second shot at life'.

It takes a full week of love to get her back. They are not BFFs for nothing.

The days go by. For the first time, since the car wreck three years back, he's sleeping well. Tanya has noticed the radiant change in him and loves him like never before. In the nights, he sits on the rocks on the sea shore and keeps looking at the heavens. Something tells him it’s not yet the time to go back home to his folks and friends yet.

One night, he is jolted out of his sleep. A voice in his head says urgently. 'The bridge. Same place. Be there in 20 min'.

Hagrid!!!

He looks at his watch. It's 3.45 am. He picks up a pair of crumpled jeans from the floor and slips them on as fast as he can. He stuffs his mask in his back pocket and urgently calls out - 'Tanya, let’s go', and he's out of the door. He doesn't bother about shoes and starts running barefoot, slowly at first and then picks up pace. Tanya is right next to him. It's a good two mile run and by the time they arrive at the bridge, he’s drenched in sweat and short on breath.

The long bridge is a magnificent structure. All steel and suspension wires. The halogen lamps throw lights over the road. He slips in the shadows of the sidewalk and quickly walks towards where he last met Hagrid. He looks at his watch. It’s 4.02 am. It's a clear night, a million stars in the skies and there's a light breeze blowing.

He sees a figure on the other side of the ledge, both hands gripping the railing and about to let go. There is a sinking feeling of Deja Vu. He steps forward.

Hey!

The figure turns back to look at him, eyes full of torment. She is around 25, very pretty, five foot four, silky hair touching the shoulders, a pale skin that sun rays are not very kind to.  She is wearing a white shirt, teal blue jeans. The eyes are perceptive and glimmer of intelligence. There are laugh lines around the mouth. There is a stubborn icy streak about her that tells him loud and clear, with this one - life is either her way or the highway.

50% Savage. 50% Sweetheart.

He grips the railing with both his hands, about 10 feet away and looks at her and says "You jump and I jump too. Remember the Titanic!". The girl stares at him wide eyed. He continues 'Everyone dies some day... But it's not your time today.  And mind you, I specialize in rescuing lost souls.  And let me tell you, I am a strong swimmer.  With and against the tide. So there!

And under his breath he mutters "Hagrid, you have to help me here, I can't swim to save my life! I would probably reach the bottom before she does”!! The skies chuckle.

She looks at him. His hair and the black Tee are damp from the night sprint, his breathing still heavy due to the exertion, the faded blue jeans, the bare feet, the hands gripping the railing with the little finger curved up slightly, the ring on the fourth finger of his right hand, and the large expressive eyes which tells a story of pain. And she sees Tanya sitting next to him, and the bond between them.

She doesn't ask him what he's doing there at this unearthly hour.

'Want to talk about it'? He asks her gently. She looks at him and then looks away at the distant horizon over the sea. There's faint lights from a ship passing through the night.  'My life's shallow. Everyone wants to own me but no one wants to know me. I am just wearing a fake mask for the world and I am tired of it.'

'No one really loves me for what I am'. 

He looks at her and smiles. 'Something tells me that's just about to change. I promise you I'll never let you be alone again. You'll never be unhappy again, I'll look out for you. I promise you'. She looks at him for a long time. And then smiles back. It’s a beautiful smile.

Something has just irrevocably shifted in his destiny. Life has come to a full circle from the car wreck. He touches his ring, looks at the skies and asks softly ‘Hagrid, did you send me to save her, or did you send her to save me’?

A million stars suddenly sparkle brightly and twin bolts of lightning rips across the cloudless sky in response.

The Endgame

July 2020 - 4.45 am - The skies are still dark over the long bridge. It's a magnificent structure.  All steel and suspension wires. There's a light rain and the seas underneath are getting increasingly restless, throwing spray over the bridge.  The city in a lock down mode. A city under siege by a virus. There’s not a soul in sight.

A man stands dangerously on the ledge on the other side of the railing, his hands gripping the railing. His face revealing nothing. Yet the intent is clear. 

Dead man walking. A classic setting for the endgame.

He is 29 years old. Too young to die.  Faded blue shirt. Faded blue Jeans. Lean. Long hair. Expressive eyes. A chiseled jawline. A handsome guy.  

A random thought makes way into his head. 'May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be'.

He looks at the heavens bitterly. Yes - I am exactly where I am meant to be. He closes his eyes as he prepares to let go of life.

Hey!

The voice comes over the roar of the wind. There is a sense of urgency and yet a sense of calm. A stranger steps up from the shadows. Tall, Heavyweight, Long hair, unkempt beard, sharp eyes, a black mask. There is a virus eating the planet. 

There is something about the eyes. He reminds one of Hagrid. But not quite.

He has his shoes and jacket in his hands and carefully puts it on the ground. Then, he calmly removes his mask and puts it in his trousers. Before the other can comprehend, the stranger effortlessly jumps over the railing. He is now 5 feet away from our man on the ledge. The waves stare up at them.

WTF.

"You jump and I jump too". The younger man stares at him. 'What is this? The Titanic"? The stranger laughs. It's an easy laugh. 'For someone about to kill himself, you sure have some sense of humor’!

The anger returns. "Go away, leave me alone".

The stranger shrugs. 'Everyone dies someday, son. But it's not your time today'.  And mind you, I specialize in rescuing lost souls.  And let me tell you, I am a strong swimmer.  With and against the tide. So there! 

There is kindness in the voice. And there is kindness in the rugged eyes.  The compassion and empathy goes into the lost soul's heart like an arrow.  

The man sniffles. The tears are dangerously close to the surface. The stranger looks at him and asks gently. 'Want to talk about it'?

'No, I want to die'.

'It’s okay, my son. Tell me your story. What could have happened to such a cool guy?  To lead him to quit. There's something about you that tells me you are not a quitter!

'Listen Hagrid'.

Don't call me that! I like Harry Potter, but there are limits!! 

The easy humor and kindness makes its way to the man's heart. The dam breaks. The words come tumbling out incoherently. In bits and pieces.

It's a story of despair. And heartbreak. The young man's eyes goes into a misty past.

3 years back. "It was my best friend Scarlett's wedding. We went for a late night drive before the day of the wedding. There were 4 of us, including her fiancé'."

A car blindsided them. The tears cloud the eyes as he looks back at the car wreck dully.

Everyone died.  I lived. Why?... I drove the car.  I killed them! 'I am tired of living with myself anymore'.

A survivor’s guilt.

And then life goes spiraling downhill from there. Friends. Family. He has left them all behind to run from the car wreck.  He hasn't slept in 3 years. It's been quite a journey since then.

More than a 29 year old can handle. More than anyone of us can handle. He looks at the stranger resignedly. 

'I can't fight any more'. 'I am a loser'. The word hangs in the air, refusing to go anywhere. A damning final indictment of a human being. There is silence in the air. Both the men look at the rising sun in the horizon.

The stranger looks at the man.  

I'll tell you something. You? A loser? A quitter?..Do you even know what you are talking about! Just look at you. 

Do you smoke?  The man looks at him dazedly. What is this? Is he offering me a last smoke or something?  'No I don’t'.

Do you drink? 'No I don’t'.

Drugs?  'No way!' 

You have not slept a single night for 3 years. Sleeping pills ? ‘No!'.

Doesn't that tell you something about yourself ? ‘No!’

Well, It tells me about someone who's been slugged repeatedly, bought down to the knees and still refuses to give in. It tells me you got the grit and character to take on the punches of life!

The man doesn't look at him. The hands are gripping the railing.

'Let me ask you another thing'. Do you remember you helped an old woman cross the street last month? Do you remember smiling at a street urchin on a signal and prayed to god he would have chances like everyone else?

The man stares at him. 'How do you know that?’

'Never mind that. These small acts of kindness and compassion define you. You have helped so many people in your journey. You were the 3 am person for so many people in your life. You are blessed with so much humor and kindness and warmth'.  Have you forgotten all that?

Believe me, you haven't a clue of your own worth. 

The man is silent.

Let me ask you another question. 'What happens to Tanya now?’ The man looks stricken.

Yes, Tanya. The German shepherd pup you took in 2 years back. You left her at the dog shelter yesterday. You didn't have the nerve to look at her the one last time! And you a keeper, of all people doing that !

There is no judgement in the voice. Just sadness.

The knife goes through the man's heart. A picture of dejection and misery of someone who knows he has let a loved one down. 

The stranger moves closer and looks at him intently. 

Just remember one thing my friend. 

You have forsaken a lot of people who love you. But you know what.. They love you unconditionally, and will never give up on you. You are truly blessed. They have you in their prayers every single moment since you left them. 

And their prayers have bought me to you. 

Trembling, the young man looks at him. 'Who are you’? The stranger shakes his head and says simply. 'I am here to take care of you. High time someone did. You have hit the rock bottom. You have suffered a lot more than anyone deserves to. Things will only get better.  I promise you. I'll take care of you. I'll never let go of you. Summer or winter. I promise you'.

6.02 am - The first of the seagulls fly in for an early morning sweep. There is a lone boat in the horizon. The stranger helps the young man off the ledge and now we are back on safe ground. Both sit on the pavement. The stranger puts back his shoes and puts his jacket round the man's shoulders. The man covers his face in his hands.

Hagrid!? 

'I really wish you wouldn't call me that’!

He is lost.  'What do I do, where do I go?'.. The stranger just looks at him. And leans over and gives him a bear hug. And keeps holding on while the tears starts flowing. He weeps for Scarlett and the life she never had.. He weeps for his lost friends..He weeps for his lost soul..He weeps for Tanya, his dog.

And he weeps for the car wreck that defined his life.

The stranger lets him cry on. And on and on. Taking his pain and grief. Till he's free of it. All of it. And the stranger does something very few people are privileged to see. In the young man's mind, he shows him a glimpse of a future of love, happiness And fulfillment.

The man opens his eyes in wonder. He feels light. A fog has cleared from the mind...A ray of happiness. And a glimmer of Hope. It's magic. They get up from the pavement and look at each other. There is amazement in the man's eyes.

Hagrid!?  The stranger rolls his eyes. 'Sigh, here we go again'. He then smiles. It's a beautiful smile. It's a smile full of sunshine and rainbows.

'I told you. You are going to be fine. I am watching your back. I'll always be there for you. I promise you'. And raising his hand in blessing, he dissolves into a brilliant shimmer of light and disappears into a white light in the skies. 

The man looks at the skies in wonder. He hugs the jacket given to him and buries his face in it.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

There is a spring in his stride as he takes out a mask from his faded blue jeans and puts it back on.  There is a virus eating the planet. He clutches on to the jacket.  He will never let it go. Ever.

He smiles. It's a beautiful smile. Time to get back to Tanya, his German shepherd.

And time to get back to life.

And life goes on..

“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself… You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow…”- Khalil Gibran

It's a random thing. A child is born - to the parents no less than a princess. Or a prince.  Birthday Parties, School, Play, the warmth of a small child’s embrace.  A moment of love, joy, and incredible fulfillment. The dream of every parent. A loving and protective home - The right of every child. 

Graduations, Convocation, Dreams. Everyone grows up..as they must. The years roll by.  

Fast forward to a hospital ICU in Washington DC. A 27-year-old girl is seriously injured after a fall during a trek. The game of life is on a hit & miss mode now.  Her parents are sitting outside in the waiting room, paralyzed with fear, the clock mercilessly ticking away. It's been a strained equation between the parents and the daughter for some time now. Conflicts ranging on Career Choices and choices of relationships. Issues that are trivial compared to the nightmare unfolding now.

No matter how our relationship with our children is, they are a part of us…And their pain will always be part of us.

In another part of the world in Mumbai, a man holds vigil for his 75-year-old father who is in a coma. The end is due anytime now. A million thoughts go through his head as he grieves for his father, himself, and the gulf that existed between them. His father suddenly opens his eyes in the middle of the night and both father and son just look at each other for a long moment for the last time.  There are no words exchanged. The end comes 2 days later.

No matter how our relationship with our parents is, we are a part of them...and hence their pain will always become part of us, scarring our souls in ways we can never fathom.

Parents and Children - An equation that starts with the celebration of the birth of a new life. A bond made beautiful by love, tenderness, and family. And ironically with time, a bond invariably weighed down by the weight of expectations and a love that ultimately becomes conditional. Sadly, the worth of a child is often determined by the dreams of the parents’ definition of success. A lifetime of grappling with who is right and who is wrong.

But then, one day, a wake-up call comes from life who intervenes and takes away everything and leaves behind nothing but regrets and unanswered questions.

Maybe this could be your story, or mine..or maybe not whatever.

And life goes on.

The Sales Meet

It's 2.30 pm in a corporate office of a conglomerate. It's the month of July somewhere in mid 90s and dark clouds were ominously hovering over the murky horizon. A year has swiftly flown by in the big bad world and the Management trainees are kind of settling down. Today, we find ourselves in a swanky conference room of the Group President for the Quarterly Sales Review. Not a day one really looks forward to.

On the top of the table are the big guns - our boss's boss and Top Man Mr. Ranade - a thin man with a curling mustache and piercing eyes. Next to him is the Big Man, Mr. Mukherjee - who's at the top of the totem pole - a short tubby man nattily dressed up. Imagine a bulldog wearing a suit. Both the top man and the big man has the unhappy ability to scare the daylights out of all living things - the prime prerequisite of being in the top management.

Neither of them are smiling as Mr. Chatterjee, the marketing chief who is our boss and the center of our universe walks in with the logistics head, Mr. Chaturvedi in tow. The sales targets have not been met as usual and this time Boss has decided that he's not going down alone. He's bought the entire marketing department along as cannon fodder. 

The Management Trainees look very pale. Lee is biting his nails, Ashwini is all glassy eyed with terror and I can feel my knees wobble. Imagine goats being led for a slaughter. We try to look invisible and grab seats as far as possible from the big boys. Octavia, our boss's secretary is the only one looking nice and smug and pleased, crouched over her notepad and can't wait for the fun to begin.

The first strike is quite early in the day. Our dear boss is presenting the sales figures. The first slide is up showing planned vs. actual figures and action plan. Our boss is in full form and blazing like a Juggernaut. Just as the slide is going to get flipped, Mr. Mukherjee, our boss's boss's boss barks "JUST HOLD ON". He stares at the slide in rapt attention. We all follow his eyes anxiously and stare at the slide.

After 2 minutes, all hell breaks loose.

Mr. Mukherjee glares at our boss and yells "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS NONSENSE, CHATTERJEE - THIS IS THE SAME SLIDE YOU SHOWED SIX MONTHS BACK ! The juggernaut has been stopped in it's tracks. Our Boss goes beetroot and gawks at the slide unhappily. We all gawk at the slide unhappily, not daring to breathe. 

Our boss's gaze slowly shifts to Octavia, his secretary and shorthand expert who suddenly doesn't look so happy anymore. After all, she's the one responsible for the collating the presentation. The Boss's murderous look has the unmistakable "Baahar aa, dekhta hoon tereko" written all over it. Octavia looks ready to burst into tears. The Top Man and the Big Man are by now openly jeering  our poor boss, who has started sweating buckets. The management trainees are staring at him and secretly hoping for a coronary so that the meeting would end and we could all go home. The rest of the marketing team looks on nervously.

The meeting continues. It's a massacre. An hour passes. Then another. Mr. Mukherjee, the big man is in full flow, raving and ranting at the departmental incompetence. He shouts with thinly veiled contempt "VERY POOR PERFORMANCE. THIS YOUNG GENERATION HAS NO COMMITMENT AT ALL".  All of us look suitably ashamed of ourselves. 

Then the big man's eyes wander angrily across the room and finally rests on Jeetu, one of the more laid back guys in the domestic appliances department. At the moment, dear Jeetu is surreptitiously trying to catch up on his afternoon nap while Rome is burning. Mr. Mukherjee yells at him. "YOU THERE, YEAH YOU..WHAT'S YOUR SALARY"?? Jeetu wakes up with a start and gawps at him, his face going an unhealthy ash white. Imagine being hauled out of your breakfast table by your collar and flung across a cliff head first, porridge, cutlery, napkins and all. Words refuse to come out as Jeetu starts stuttering. I can feel my throat going dry with panic and sweat trickles down my neck. I am sitting in ground zero, right next to Jeetu.

Then the big man then turns to our boss "CHATTERJEE, THIS YOUNG MAN MUST BE DRAWING WHAT, 5000 RUPEES?. BUT DOES HE DO ANY WORK WORTH 5000 RUPEES"? Everyone looks at Jeetu suspiciously. The poor chap clamps up. He draws something like 25 Grand but he isn't about to volunteer that information.

The big man is just about warming up. He glares at Jeetu and shouts at our boss "CHATTERJEE, I BET THIS FELLOW GOES HOME EARLY EVERYDAY !!! HE MUST WORK AT LEAST 18 HOURS A DAY". All the big boys nods their heads vigorously and glares at Jeetu convinced they know a laggard when they saw one. It doesn't help that Jeetu looks guiltier than a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Much to our relief, the eventful day finally gets over and we crawl out of the sales meet, shaken and stirred. It's time to head for the nearest bar to restore the mauled and bruised spirit. The day soon passes into history.

The next day, the sun is out in the skies as usual.  Over a cup of tea, the management trainees heave a sigh of relief for having survived the meeting. However, the best is yet to come. The minutes of the meeting have been typed manually by the can't-wait-to-please-boss Octavia and action points are circulated.

The minutes of the meeting are floating all over the place, and soon has the floor reverberating with laughter. Though at least one person in the department is in a state of shock and gloom.

Because, a particular action item in the minutes of the meeting tells it's own tale.  Among other things, typed in bold letters in point no. 10 - "JEETU TO WORK 18 HOURS A DAY" !!

Finally, something productive has come out of the meeting :)

A Slice Of Life

Keflavik International Airport, Reykjavík - Iceland. The crowd is sparse. It's January and the evening is bitterly cold. Flight FI782 has just landed from New York, JFK. In the shadows outside, a man in a dark overcoat waits for his brother, silent with grief. His brother comes out shortly. Their father has just passed away after a long illness. They hug each other. The eyes of one brother has the wretchedness of the one who is far away and has spent years dreading the final phone call. The eyes of the other brother has the haunted look of one who has stayed behind and has watched his parents grow old and frail and finally fade away. The two men are in their early 30s, separated by a couple of years. And a distance life and time will never bridge.

Nashville, Tennessee - A tragedy is unfolding. The funeral of an young girl is heartbreaking. She has been taken away by the gods at the age of three. Her mother and a seven year old brother are numb with shock. Her devastated father is one of the pall bearers and is having difficulty in shouldering the coffin. It is a burden too heavy for any parent in the world. An unknown soldier walks across the cemetery and gently steadies the father and takes the load on himself. When the coffin is lowered in the grave, the soldier kneels down, his face wet with tears. Even a complete stranger must go down on a bended knee at so monumental a loss.   

Marseilles, France. A man walks along the seaside by the Calanque de Morgiou, oblivious of the crowd around. He has loved and lost. The beginnings of a heartbreak are beginning to tug at his tortured soul. The tears flow as he looks in the distance at the lonely years ahead. He isn't the first one on earth to get defeated in love. But it sure feels like one. He will not get closure, but he will just learn to move on. He promises to himself that he will never run back to what broke him. love doesn't break your heart. People do.

Prague, Czech Republic. An innocuous school race of 7 year olds. The winner is being applauded by all - the pride of his parents and friends. In a lonely corner is the boy who came last. His father looks at him angrily and then ignores him. He doesn't care for his son's anguish and sees only a loser. The boy sits in a corner and cries. The potter has smudged his pristine creation before the cast is set. Damaged goods start early on in life.

Zhengzhou, China. A young Shaolin monk stands in front of a pool lit by silvery moonlight at 2 am. Floating on the water are thin wooden boards laid next to each other. His brow knit in concentration and muscles taut, the Shaolin monk prepares to do one of the toughest Kung Fu feats ever - the walk on water. The task is to race across the thin planks without falling. The young monk takes a deep breath and makes the first attempt. He crosses three planks, stumbles and sinks in the icy water. He comes up coughing and gasping for air and starts all over again. The flight on water is about speed, a delicate coordination of breathing, rhythm, balance and stamina. There is no audience here. No tests. The monk is here because he loves the art. His only competition is what he was yesterday. 

London, United kingdom. In a happening nightclub in the center of the city, a bunch of eighteen year old pretty girls, breathless with excitement are enjoying a night out. The future is limitless and exciting. They are too young to know grief. And in another corner is a bunch of 60 year olds enjoying a beer and laughing in the glow of quiet camaraderie. Old enough to know grief. But also, old enough to know that life is short and time doesn't wait for anyone.

A mountain in Tanzania - a mystery wreathed in clouds. The group of young climbers gather around the traveler who has just come back and bombard him with questions. The summit..how is the summit. The questions are all about the summit. The traveler smiles wearily. "Nothing is at the summit. The springs, the valleys, the mists, the sunrise and the sunset on the way is what the climb is all about...but you won't see them because all you are eyeing is the summit".

Darkness and sunshine are two sides of the same coin - the share is uneven and sadly determined purely by the roll of dice fate throws at us. All you can do is take it on the chin and move on to live another day.

And therein lies a tale. 

All in a Day's Work

It's the 90s. The office setting is grim. It’s a corporate headquarters of a large conglomerate. Imagine a huge rectangle room. Imagine a line of cabins one side and severe looking chairs and tables on the other. 

On the left are the cabins where the Management rules from. The first cabin in that of Mr. Goswami, the personnel manager and who looks like an escaped convict. Next is the Top Man, Mr. Ranade - a thin man with a thick curling moustache and piercing eyes. Both his bark and bite are equally legendary. Three cabins to the right is the marketing Chief, Mr. Chatterjee who is our boss and center of our universe.  He has short curly hair, large spectacles over small ears adorning a thick neck and a pot belly to match.  

On the right of the floor are chairs and tables occupied by the worker bees. These are divided into a careful hierarchy. On the top are the old hands - the ones who have risen through the ranks. In our department, there is Mr. Chaturvedi, the logistics chief and Boss’s man Friday.  He is short and squat with an impressive belly. Then there is Mr. Joshi, the chief go to man. Ever smiling, fit and agile, Mr. Joshi lights up a cigarette every 30 minutes to stay healthy. He is our favorite because he is the most approachable of the lot.  And there is Octavia, our boss's secretary and his short hand expert. She is the gossip queen of the office, a pro in the grapevine chatter.

This lot is complemented by Mr. Choubey, the court astrologer that helps us make profits by doing havans and aligning our tables with the stars.

The next layer are the MBAs who joined a couple of years before us and who are still around. There is the suave and handsome Kulvee, self-assured and the department’s favorite pinup boy. Then there is the bespectacled Rakesh, oblivious to the world and perennially writing something on a paper pad with his head so low that it is left to his nose to prevent his specs from touching the table. And we have Amanda, the advertising in charge - the department loudmouth and the local bully.  

All in all, a curious crowd.

Finally, there are the freshly minted MBAs - the management trainees at the bottom of the table. This is the group of rookies I belong to. Despised by the old hands and everyone's favorite whipping boys. There is Sonal, my best friend - freckled, fiery, indignant and ready to take on the world. The regular rebel without a cause. There is Lee, benignly laid back and lighting up every now and then. Then there is PeeCee, a highly volatile girl and eyeing Lee. And there is me – Mr. Anonymous of the lot. All of us are twenty something.

9.00 am Mr. Chatterjee, The Marketing chief and our boss troops into office, his entourage consisting of a shifty eyed driver carrying his briefcase. Octavia looks up in fright. So does Sonal. Lee and I look at each other uneasily. Everyone is gauging his highness's mood - For that will dictate how the day will go. A closer look reveals the man is scowling darkly. Everyone's hearts sink. This doesn't look so good. Everyone's on the edge in the marketing department, especially the management trainees.

As per regular routine, 45 seconds after Mr. Chatterjee enters his cabin, the logistics head, Mr. Chaturvedi follows him. Two men against the world. 5 minutes later Mr. Chaturvedi comes out - balefully eyeing everyone one by one. Everyone shudders. His eyes finally settle on me - cowering in a corner. "Boss bula raha hai". With shaky legs I enter the cabin. "Yes Sir", I stammer. Boss looks at me scornfully. "Cigarette la". Relief washes over me like a flood. For the next 15 minutes, I systematically go combing the neighborhood for a smoke , happy in the thought I'm doing something productive.

9.30 am. In the morning, a breakfast trolley comes in manned by a mean old man called kaka. Today's special is til ka laddu. That’s my favorite and against my better judgement, I meekly ask for a second helping. The man rudely refuses. I go red in embarrassment at the public humiliation. The next moment all my friends around me spontaneously stretch their hands out offering me their only laddus. Life comes with its kindest moments at the most unexpected of times.

11.30 am. There is a meeting between our boss and the top man. As usual, the sales targets haven't been met and dear boss has just got an earful.  He comes out raving and ranting. Just imagine a bulldog that’s just been kicked in the ribs. Our spirits sink even lower.  Mr. Chatterjee curtly beckons the whole gang in his cabin wagging a finger. Everyone anxiously troops in the smoked out cabin. He glares at everyone and roars "JUST HOW MUCH CAN I COVER UP FOR YOUR INCOMPETENCE. HIGH TIME YOU PEOPLE LEARNT TO LIVE ON YOUR OWN OXYGEN!!!” He got the same lines from his boss 5 minutes back.  He bangs a thick fist on the table, causing pens and pencils jump all over the place in fright. "I WANT RESULTS” – he screams. Everyone hangs on fearfully to his words, too terrified to breathe. All except one. Octavia, our boss's secretary and his shorthand expert rises to the occasion. It's time to show solidarity to the boss. She huffs and puffs enthusiastically "We shall try to do our best, Sir”!!! Unfortunately, this only serves to incense boss further who glares at her angrily and yells "TRY, I DON'T WANT TRY, I WANT RESULTS". Octavia goes scarlet and deflates like a balloon. There is murder in her eyes. The management trainees all chuckle inwardly. One should know when to butter and when not to butter. We keep our eyes carefully on the floor. You don't want to be seen smiling at that moment by Boss.

2.30 pm. I am in the men’s washroom enjoying a quiet leak - The place is crowded and there is chatter and bonhomie in the air. Suddenly the place goes silent. The top man has walked in for a quick one. Those were the unfortunate times when private executive loos didn't exist. Zips go in the shutdown mode, toilets are flushed and the inmates flee. The place empties out in 5 seconds flat. No one wants to be around when the great man does his stuff. All except me. I am dreaming good dreams and am blissfully unaware of the heightened activity and suddenly find myself stranded alone next to the top man in the next cubicle. The silence hits me suddenly and I shut my eyes in panic and pretend the world doesn't exist. The moment passes.

5.30 pm. Mr. Chatterjee’s mood has cleared visibly and he is happy now. There is a dealer’s meet in the evening and he is looking forward to hitting the bottle and meeting old friends. The sun has come out of the clouds. There is a flood of relief around. Everyone's smiling with joy. The management trainees are visibly relieved. Boss comes out and expansively waves at me, slaps me on my back and says genially "Beta, Cigarette la". I go hunting for a cigarette and am happy in the thought I'm doing something productive.

8.30 pm. The dealer’s meet is on. Booze is flowing freely and the regional sales heads are getting an earful from my dear boss.  The management trainees are living it up with the free stuff and I wander off on my own, dreaming the good dreams - and walk straight into the danger zone.  Mr. Chatterjee eyes me and booms out “Come here young man”. I go stone sober and get the familiar sinking feeling. Boss puts an arm around me affectionately and tells the regional sales heads “You guys don’t know how to sell. Look at this young man – he just closed a deal worth a million yesterday”. Everyone cranes their neck to have a good look at me - there is awe and reverence in the air. I freeze in shock at this brazen lie and break into cold sweat. I didn't see this one coming. I stare back at everyone wild eyed with a silly smile on my face. There are hearty congratulations all around and I shake everyone’s hands weakly, desperately trying to think of some suitable customer’s name in case someone asked. Fortunately everyone’s too plastered to ask the finer details and I fly back to the bar as fast as my legs carry me and drown down 2 shots of neat vodka.

Much to our relief, the day finally ends.  Those were the happier days for the Management trainees.  Little did we know, that would change soon. Very soon.

The Curse of the Flying Dutchman

A portent of doom hangs over the dark raging seas. The year is 1641 and the Dutch ship 'The flying Dutchman' is navigating the waters of the Cape of Good Hope on its return journey home to Amsterdam from the Dutch East Indies. The ship is filled with riches and its crew is looking forward to returning home and reuniting with their families after a long voyage. 

Her Skipper, Captain Hendrick Van Der Decken is a man in a hurry to go home.

Mr. Borse is the youngest in the crew and has ended up in the fated ship as a stowaway. Like the rest of the world, the happy go lucky Moroccan has the usual dreams of seeing the world, making money and marrying the girl of his dreams. He is on course to his dreams and is assisting the captain on the bridge, when the 17th Century vessel gets hit by fierce gales and killer waves. 

The fearful crew implores with the captain to head for the safety of the shore and ride out the storm. The captain will have none of it. He takes a swig of rum and contemptuously shakes a fist at the skies and yells "No storm has ever stopped me before and by Jove, it's not going to stop me now".

Howling winds bends the masts and rips the sails, monster waves sends the ship heaving and lurching. The crew finally cracks and there is a mutiny on board. As Mr. Borse looks on in terror, the captain, furious and vengeful, kills the leader of the rebellion and throws the body aboard. That's the end of Mr. Joglekar.

At that point, lightning floods the skies and a shadowy caped specter appears on the ship's deck hovering a few inches over the ground "You are a very stubborn man, Captain".

The Captain replies "I never asked for a peaceful passage, I never asked for anything. So clear off before I shoot you too". The captain draws his pistol and fires.  

The apparition cannot be harmed by a mere bullet and says “for this you are accursed, because of your actions you are condemned to sail the oceans for eternity, with a ghostly crew of dead men.  You will bring death to all who spot your spectral ship and you will never be allowed to make port or know a moment’s peace.”

Defiant to the end the captain replies, “Amen to that.”

Amid the cries of hopelessness and terror of her crew, the Flying Dutchman sinks to a watery grave. The sea has claimed yet another one.

Next day, in the wintery morning, the waters have calmed down and the sun is out in the soft breeze. From the still waters, a ghost ship surfaces from its watery grave. The Flying Dutchman has just started an eternal voyage across the world which will never end. Its life as usual as the gloomy crew of skeletons goes back mournfully to their daily chores of running the ship. They are well aware they are going to break all maritime records.

Mr. Borse puts on his favorite hat sadly and looks on despairingly at his grinning skull in the mirror. He raises his voice to the skies - "I didn't sign up for this. I want to go home!! ". The Dead captain places a fatherly (and a very bony) hand on Mr. Borse's shoulder blades and what is recorded as the understatement of the year 1641 says "Don't worry, all will be well". 

Over the centuries, the ghost ship has traversed the world round and round. The sighting of the Flying Dutchman has been a harbinger of disaster for Mariners. Ships have been led astray into hidden reefs by the ghost ship and sunk. Mariners cross their hearts and nail a horse shoe on their ships mast to ward off the omen of the Flying Dutchman.

So in the near future, if you are out in the ocean look out for a 17th century ship with full masts and a red glow. Look hard and if you see the captain waving a skeletal hand, you know what to do.

Utter a prayer and escape while you can!!!!!

Footnote: It takes whole of 300 years before Mr. Borse is finally (and the only one) released from the ghost ship. He gets reincarnated as a SAP CRM consultant and is now settled in Florida. He has seen the world, made money and married the girl of his dreams - not in that order though. However, from childhood Mr. Borse dreams of phantom ships and cannot understand the lure of the sea which seems to tug at him constantly. But he is afraid...deathly afraid to venture out even to the beach.

And he knows not why :)

The Magic of Nidhivan

The sight is strange. As the sun slowly finds its way home into the horizon, one looks on in wonder as hordes of birds and monkeys make a hasty and a very visible retreat from the woods. Within minutes, the place is empty. 

As the night closes in, a guard walks out to warn everyone to clear the area.  

This is Nidhivan, a 5 acre forest garden of Tulsi trees near Vrindavan - the fabled city where lord Krishna is said to have lived thousands of years back. Here the roots of every two plants are connected and is said to be a form of Krishna and Radha. What makes these trees stand out is they are all entangled with each other.

As the dance of the stars begin in the skies above, they say these trees come to life every night in the forest.  Here Lord Krishna is said to have Raas Leela with the Gopis till early in the morning. Legend has it no one is allowed to watch the celestial dance and those break this rule don't live to tell the tale. As a safety measure, the houses overlooking the woods shut their doors and windows in the night.  People have said to have heard the melody of Krishna’s flute diffusing the night in Nidhivan.

In the day time, the place comes alive with tourists. The guide points out the interconnected Tulsi plants. The roots seem brittle but the leaves above are lush green.

In middle of Nidhivan, there is a temple called Rang Mahal. Here, every night, a room is prepared for Radha and Krishna to rest after their Raas Leela. The same ritual is followed every night. A bed is made, food and water is put on the table and a traditional 2 tooth brushes are kept. Then the room is locked. The temple is then vacated and at the next dawn when the doors of the room are unlocked, the bed is found slept in, the food eaten and toothbrushes used.

This is singularly a mystery which goes beyond the realm of myth. TV crews have come here trying to decode the mystique without any success. They have kept vigil around the night, hunted for secret passages, checked whether locks tampered with - All in hope of finding a more rational explanation. Nothing has been found to explain the phenomenon. This is the closest you get to having proof that god exists in our midst.

My thoughts go back to the story of Radha and Krishna. Like all great love stories, they were not destined to be together.  After Krishna left Gokul, he had duties to fulfill and never ever looked back. Though he went on to marry (a few thousand wives no less), it is said he never forgot Radha. There is no explanation. Shorn of spiritual connotations, maybe the lesson here is that love isn’t about being married or being with someone. Love is being connected from the soul. Who knows ?

 

Whatever, the story of Nidhivan brings a smile to my face. I close my eyes and see Krishna - his flute, a peacock feather adorning the head and a serene and compassionate smile. I can almost hear the faint sound of flute playing accompanied by the soft sound of anklets. My heart fills with wonder and faith and a song from Lagaan comes to my lips.

"Madhuban mein Jo kanhaiya kisee gopi se mile,

Kabhee muskaye, kabhee chhede, kabhee baat kare,

Radha kaise naa jale, radha kaise naa jale, Aag tan mann me lage, Radha kaise naa jale, radha kaise naa jale....

The Bridge of No Return

My co-passenger and I looked at each other suspiciously when the Boeing jet dropped vertically several feet as we hit an air pocket. It was my first trip to the French city of Marseille, albeit an official one. Not exactly a travel hound when it came as a passion, my tryst with sightseeing is mostly limited to travel brochures and works of fiction. Unlike millions of my fellow species I have not been blessed with wanderlust. Of course, there have been occasions when the stirrings of distant snow clad mountains have beckoned me, without much success. 

But somehow, Marseille was different... I had heard so much of this exquisite city - it's history, architecture and culture. More importantly, this was the land from where my ex-sweetheart came from. That was enough for me to fall in love with the place without ever seeing it before. Strange what love can do to you.

As we flew over the deep blue Mediterranean Ocean, I reflected sadly at the vagaries of life and pain of lost love. On touchdown, I was shaken out of my thoughts by a fresh autumn coolness and a wide expanse of green melting into the sea which simply took the breath away. In the evening, with formalities of work over and after a combination of  a wonderful meal of typical French cuisine and an uncharacteristically warm French hospitality made us feel good all over, my friend and I went for a lazy walk by the country side.

It was around eleven in the night and as we trudged silently in the dark, each to our own thoughts, we came to a small bridge by the road side lit brilliantly by millions of stars above us. Leaning on that distant bridge in middle of nowhere amidst the dark trees, with moonlight filtering through its leaves and a comforting silence, I was swept with a sense of timelessness. That nothing had changed in this place for centuries. 

And in that quiet, time stood still and my soul again yearned for that someone who had made me feel so good at some point of my life. Our relationship had been unusual and tempestuous to say the least with long spans of time separating us for most of the five years that I had known her. Somehow, every meeting was special because the gaps didn't seem to exist. Looking wistfully at me out of those brown eyes, she had once told me that we met only to part, and finally the day came when we parted never to meet again as fate swept us in lone directions. Though over time I forced myself to believe I have no regrets, there has always been this occasional tug at the heart as I know I will never experience those depths again.

Standing on that silent night, I remembered something I had read somewhere "The old dreams were good dreams, It didn't work out, but I'm glad I had them anyway". It struck me that I had forgotten something along the way. To really relish the color of life is truly learning to treasure the moments we have lived right and look forward to another tomorrow.  In more ways than one, I had seen light on that starry night on a lonely bridge in middle of nowhere.

The Legend of Eklavya

Destiny stirs uneasily. Eklavya is about to make his first move which will seal his fate forever. The tall wiry young man with his long locks and intense eyes proudly goes up to Drona with folded hands and makes his pitch. "I am Eklavya, the son of Hiranyadhanusha, chief of the Nishada tribe. I want to be the greatest archer in the world. Will you accept me as your pupil?" The master teaches only royalty and contemptuously refuses. Eyes downcast, Eklavya bows his head at this slight but has nothing but devotion to the teacher he will never have.

Refusing to give up on his dreams, Eklavya builds a clay statue of his adopted teacher. With a natural skill in archery combined with a deadly focus towards his art, he starts training. In his heart and soul, Drona is always around, guiding him all the way. As time passes, Eklavya’ s archery skills are that of the gods. And like they say, Practice makes awesome. 

Years pass. The kuru Princes are out on a hunt led by a pack of hounds. One dog picks up the scent of Eklavya practicing close by and goes in for the chase, barking furiously. His concentration disturbed, Eklavya lets loose a lightning volley of arrows and gags the dog's mouth. At that moment the kuru princes bursts into the scene. 

The sight is extraordinary - 7 arrows criss-crossed between the stunned animal's jaws without as much a scratch. Arjuna, the Pandava prince who would go on to be the greatest warrior of the era instantly knows he is in front of a warrior far more skilled than him. Incredulous, he asks Eklavya "From where did you learn to shoot like that?" Eklavya proudly replies - 'Dronacharya'. 

Blinded by jealousy, Arjuna confronts his teacher - 'How could you betray me? You promised to make me the greatest archer in the world'. A perplexed Drona is led to Eklavya. He silently looks at in wonder at his clay statue and Eklavya hitting his targets with deadly precision one after another. One look and he knows Arjuna has met his match. Drona is torn between affection for a student he has never taught and a commitment to make Arjuna the greatest.  Drona embraces Eklavya who is overwhelmed to be acknowledged by his master. 

Drona tells him "You consider me your teacher. As per tradition you have to pay me my due".  Eklavya bows "Whatever you wish, Acharya". Drona looks at Arjuna and says to Eklavya "I want your right thumb as my payment". Eklavya does not miss the look of complicity pass between Drona and Arjuna and knows exactly what is being asked of him. Without the right thumb, you can barely put an arrow to the bow, let alone be a marksman of the sublime level. Without a word,  Eklavya takes a knife and cuts off his thumb at the base and offers it to Drona - the ultimate gurudakshina ever.

That night, long after everyone has gone back to their lives, Eklavya weeps silent tears clutching his mutilated hand in excruciating pain - despairing at the troubled thoughts of what might have been. It was a day of irrevocable losses. Eklavya lost his thumb and with it his dreams. Drona lost a part of his soul. The skies opened up in anguish. That night 3 gods cried. The god of justice, the god of Fair play…. and the god of fate. 

The story does not end here.

The world has forgotten about him but Eklavya rises like the proverbial phoenix. Unwilling to be beaten by life, he again picks up his bow with a steely resolve and re-learns to shoot . Eklavya adapts to his missing digit and goes on to become one of the most feared archers of the time. A warrior will always be a warrior. And where the heart has hope, dreams will always be chased.

Time passes. It is time of conflict between the Kauravas and Pandavas and ancient India is preparing for war. With the drums of war starting to echo across the dusty plains of kurukshetra, it's time to take sides. On eve of the battle, Eklavya offers his services to the Kauravas. Drona is fighting for them. He has sworn to protect his teacher with his life. Besides, Eklavya has never forgiven Arjuna for what he did to him.

Lord Krishna knows thumb or no thumb; Eklavya poses a dangerous threat to Arjuna. He goes to the forest and tries to dissuade him from fighting the war. "This is not your fight. You belong to the forest”. Eklavya refuses to be swayed. Krishna knows he has to act know. He plunges a dagger in the back of the unsuspecting Eklavya. The dying Eklavya falls and gasps for breath - his tortured face searches Krishna for answers to this betrayal. At this point, the lord reveals his dazzling divine form to the unfortunate soul. Not many mortals get this chance. Eklavya's face changes from agony to ecstasy and he says "Lord, I am truly blessed to have the honor of dying at your hands. I just have one wish. My mother should not know any grief on my account". 

With his heart filled with grief, Krishna blesses the fallen warrior "You are a truly noble soul. Future generations will draw inspiration, courage and fortitude from your story. You will be synonymous with these qualities".  Eklavya finally departs from the world, his soul at peace - his spirit unbroken to the end. To keep his promise to Eklavya, Krishna claims the life of his mother as well, to spare her the sorrow of losing a son.

The circle of  destiny is complete.

5000 years later I relive the story of Eklavya with disquiet. In the maze of the epic story of Mahabharata, Eklavya’s story is a blink and miss episode - a collateral damage in a war which claimed countless lives. But he remains one of its most inspiring heroes. I am swept with a sense of crushing heartache at the deja vu of betrayals which Eklavya endured and the unfairness of the world. The questions are troubling. In the fight between darkness and light why did the lord Krishna did as he did. Where did the nobility of Arjuna disappear in face of being faced with real competition for the first time in his life? Most troubling is the role of Drona in the whole story. The lines of good and evil gets blurred here....One can't help but wonder at the vagaries of fate.

Note: There are many versions of how Eklavya died. The one in the above narrative has been taken from Anuja Chandramouli’s  "Saga of Pandava Warrior-Prince Arjuna".

  

The Ganguly Chronicles

Sourav Ganguly -  Picture Wikipedia

In his playing days, Sourav Ganguly rarely sported a smile. Not so now. The greatest ever Indian cricket captain makes his entrance in a dark suit minus the tie with a semblance of a smile at SAPs TechEd 2013 as the Guest Keynote speaker. It's a corporate coup by SAP. Who other than Sourav Ganguly is better qualified to talk about leadership? The man has seen the whole circle of life. The crowd of 7000 plus at Bangalore goes wild. It's apparent that the prince of Kolkata still holds a special place in our hearts. After all, this was the man who single handedly bought in the blade of aggression into the Indian team and took on the world unapologetically. It was all about guts and glory in equal measures.

Sourav is exceptionally articulate and completely at ease with such a big crowd. It's a walk in the park for someone used to hitting those towering sixes in packed stadiums. The clarity of thought is crystal clear. He sticks to the basics. Something we all need reminding at every stage of our lives. "The day you start wearing the white clothes till the day you stop wearing it, the pressure will always be there. And that is the pressure of performance. Those who say they haven't felt the heat at various stages of their lives is either lying or they are in a job that doesn’t demand anything. You wouldn't want to be in a job that doesn’t demand anything".

The prodigiously gifted batsman took up the cricket bat for the first time at a relatively late age of 14 and set school cricket on fire immediately. Five years later, Ganguly made his debut in the Indian One day squad in 1992. He didn't get much of a chance then and finally got his big break on the tour of England in 1996 where he announced his arrival among the big boys with back to back classy test hundreds. In a sport marked by media glare, criticism and continuous scrutiny the biggest challenge was to maintain focus and deliver. "When your start you career, you want to establish yourself. The best way is to create a zone for ourselves. A zone where we block out everything irrelevant. And find our best way to perform. A zone where you become better at what you deliver".  It’s all about self-belief.

In 2000, Sourav Ganguly was named Captain of the Indian Cricket team. "I still remember my first day as captain in the Cochin One-Day International against south Africa. It was a very special day in my life. And I still remember, when I walked into the dressing room there was Azharuddin, Sachin Tendulkar, Anil Kumble, Ajay Jadeja, Javagal Srinath. I still remember my throat trembling as I made my first speech as captain.  Asking those 11 people in the dressing room that I needed this performance from you tomorrow was the toughest day of my life... I had to tell Azharuddin you will bat at no. 4, tell Sachin Tendulkar you will open with me and that’s the way I want you to play." An hour later he was back in his hotel room feeling very unsettled and flipping the TV channels, his mind blank. “My wife asked me what the problem was. I said for the first time in my life I realized that I am a leader of men and I had to make them do things the way I wanted. That team meeting changed him completely. "When I walked out of the room after an hour, I was a completely different player, a completely different person. I realized that tomorrow I will have to walk in front and 15 men will walk behind me”.

To Sourav Ganguly, leadership is about uncompromising honesty and clear communication. "It's a very likeable word that I am the leader, I am the captain of the side. But what goes with it, I wouldn’t say tough but something very complicated. It's very important to make sure you know what you are doing. For me, the biggest and only word to be a successful leader is trust. People around you, your colleagues, and people working under you should have trust. Not everyone will deliver, not everyone will succeed. But at the end of the day they would know whatever I have done, whatever feedback I have got from person who is my boss is a honest one and I can go home knowing exactly where I stand”. He emphasizes that you can only make your team walk behind you consistently over a period of time only if you get their trust. That they believe that this man is honest, and this man does exactly what he says.

Ganguly knew that as a captain, selection was the all-important thing in a player’s career. "When I went to a player and said - I can't pick you or I'll pick you for next 10 games, his world would either crash or his world would lighten up. When you become a leader of a team, it’s very important to make sure you communicate the right thing. If you think he's not part of your team, it's important that you make him believe that. Sometimes this honest true word can make a difference in his life. Because he can go out of the team environment with a realization it’s a sport which is competitive, it’s a sport or world where you have to be better than others. At least he knows I have got an honest opinion from my captain... It’s not that I tell him he is good enough and then go into selection meeting and say he's not good enough and I don’t need him in the team. You make or break or as leader when you do such a thing".

He acknowledges it's not easy. "It’s a tough thing to keep everyone happy, you cannot keep everyone happy. But at same time if you keep yourself truthful, you keep yourself honest, I think you'll make a massive difference to everyone's life. For me that is the biggest thing I learnt when I became the captain of Indian Cricket team".

As a captain, Sourav Ganguly molded a tightly knit fighting unit which took on the opposition with all guns blazing. The mighty Australians, riding on a winning streak of 16 test matches were beaten 2-1 in the historic test series of 2001 where Dravid and Laxman scripted the greatest fight back in cricketing history. In 2003, India reached the world cup finals for the first time since 1983 eventually losing to the Australians. Between 2000-2005, Ganguly went on to captain India in 49 test matches with 21 wins and 13 losses. In this period, he led India in 146 one day internationals with 76 wins and 65 losses.

“Good teams are the key to success. In a team environment, no one man can do the job and win the deal”. Sourav has a word for the corporates - “All people who are in a position to select, position to give jobs in a company must understand that they are not doing anyone a favor. They are doing themselves a favor by picking the right person for the job”.  He adds a word of caution of the dangers of power going to the head. “It’s a very small thing we forget. You get to a position of power, when everyone looks at you and calls you Sir. You reach a point where it’s easy to forget the essence that it is the people around you who keep you powerful ".

The gods of cricket are fickle. What goes up eventually comes down - and hard. And who knows the vagaries of life better than international cricketers. In late 2005, Sourav Ganguly lost his place in the Indian cricket team after a string of poor form and a very public row with a certain Mr. Greg Chappell (whose excellent coaching methods would have probably worked better for the Indian football team). Rahul Dravid was given the reins of the Indian cricket and Sourav Ganguly was left in the cold.  It was 10 months before he found his way back in the Indian team as a batsman on the tour to South Africa. One can only imagine how difficult it is at the age of 34 having to fight for your place in the same team which you have led to glory for 5 years. The learning curve must have been harsh and the adjustment - a nightmare.

His comeback in 2006 was the stuff dreams are made up of and a testament to his skill and character. On how he felt about coming face to face with Greg Chappell again in the make or break series - "What made it easier, I knew exactly where I stood with the coach and that was a good thing. I knew it was all on me. I performed, I stayed – I didn’t perform, I perished. It’s sometimes good in everyone’s life to have the cushion around you removed. I was out of my comfort zone. It actually worked for me because I realized I couldn’t afford to make a mistake".  And perform he did. Though India lost the South Africa series, Sourav accumulated the highest runs on the tour.  Ganguly soon got back his place in the one day squad and regained his Midas touch with the bat. In 2007, the run machine scored 1106 test runs with 3 centuries and 4 fifties. He also scored 1240 runs in the ODIs.

In 2008, at the age of 36, Sourav Ganguly announced his retirement ahead of the test series in Australia. In the 4 test series captained by Dhoni, Ganguly sailed out into the cricketing sunset in a blaze of glory, scoring 324 runs including one final century in Mohali with the Indian team winning the series 2-0.  It was a befitting end to a glittering career of 113 test matches and 311 ODIs  which put him firmly in the hall of cricketing greats and a million hearts.

Ganguly stresses how important it is to deal with the other side of the hill. "Another phase of our life which we all go through when you finish at the top and get back to reality. You start; get to top and after a period of time you get back again down. That doesn’t change for anyone. For all of us, that’s a massive adjustment we have to make. It's even a bigger adjustment than when you became the leader of a group. The biggest realization is when you know that you are no longer the captain. That's where the real test of character starts. To accept the situation - and react to it. The cleverest thing to do is to let the other person take over. Whoever is your boss, create an environment he takes over, so that he feels unchallenged. If he feels challenged, you won’t be around for long time. You have to realize that - this is where I stand, this is what I need to do, this is my job and I have to deliver. That’s another huge part of professionalism and huge part of finding a solution. It's a tough thing, but then all of us have to do it. I have seen everyone doing it and in the future everyone will keep doing it."

The impact that Dada has left with his words is overwhelming. It is amongst the truly inspiring speeches I have ever been privileged to attend. Sadly, that is so rare in a world where most managers/bosses are anything but inspiring and have little clue of leading from the front.