Why I Don't Celebrate My Father's Birthday!

It's true. I do not celebrate his birthday. I am his only son, his only child in fact, and I do not celebrate the day my father was born. Truth is, I do not know the day my father was born...

Though I've never met my grandfather in person, I'm told he was sort of the official aide to the Nizam of my domicile state and hence a very powerful and busy man. So busy in fact, that my grandfather did not go himself to get his son admitted in the local school. Perks of being a powerful man, I guess. So when it came to his date of birth, my father was randomly assigned one by the registrar. That's where the story starts...

My father was the third of ten children my grandparents had. Eleven actually, considering one of my pishis died of malnutrition before she could learn to speak.My grandfather was an honest and upright man. So honest, in fact that when famine hit our state during the emergency, he chose the state over his family when it came to food grains. I recently came to know of this incident and how it changed him to see his sister die for want of proper food. Last time I was home, I remember how I did not like the poha Ma made and threw it away. If I only knew then...

I remember this one time getting upset with my father because he could not get the cake of my choice for my 6th birthday. Now I wish I could read his mind at that precise moment. Also, I remember his siblings coming to him for help-monetary or otherwise. I don't remember anyone remotely remembering to wish him for every year that passed. During my teens, I remember his anger, his frustration with his son's wayward lifestyle. I remember being scared, upset of him. I remember expressing my frustration at his lack of sentiments for his son.I remember hiding behind my mother, when he came home, and giving him the silent treatment; my revenge for his anger at what his son had become.  

I don't remember the exact moment we became friends. I don't remember thanking him for having my back when I had my first heartbreak or when I lost my grades in college. I don't remember the first time he got me books for my birthday while everybody else gifted toys. I don't remember thanking him for introducing me to this crazy love for reading that I carry with me today. I don't remember him complaining about power cuts or food or clothes. I don't remember him talking about his past, or his job or his likes, dislikes. 

Ever had a moment of epiphany when you wished you could turn back time and unsay the things you said. Undo things you did. I'm sure you have. Because of the random birth date and year, my father had to retire 8 years before he actually turned 60. We got to know of his actual birth year through a dusty old crumpled document that was lost with my thakur ma's belongings only after his farewell. Before his son graduated. While most of his siblings were still dependent on him. And all this because of one stupid date that decided the next 60 years of his life. 

I don't celebrate his birthday because it reminds me of my grandfather's benign mistake and how it changed my father's life. The only time I remember seeing his eyes moisten was when he came home after his farewell. I knew they were not tears of joy. His "birthday" reminds me of all his years of silence while he suffered for a mistake he did not commit.

Baba, if there is a remote chance you are reading this, I just want to confess I hate thakur dadu for doing this to you. I wish he had paid more attention while his son was living on one meal a day, leading to a lifetime of acute migraine and hypertension. I wish he could see you in his last moments, before he left you with an ailing mother and 8 mouths to feed. I wish, I wish the two of you had more time together. I wish you had the opportunity to  live the teenage life that you gave me. More than anything else, I wish I could take away the sadness you hide behind your eyes every time you smile. 

I know the pride you felt when I spoke to you of my promotion. I know how happy you were that your son was no longer an underachiever. And I owe it to you, more than Ma. You are the rock that stood behind me, every time I faced a storm in my personal and professional life. All my worries, all my fears still wash away with the smell of your aftershave when you hug me. (By the way, I still use the same brand that you did!)

I don't want to celebrate my father's birthday. I want to celebrate his life, his persona, his amazing resilience towards everything that life threw at him. If I'm half the man he is when I'm at his age, I'll consider myself lucky. 

Here's to you, Baba. My first and only hero! God Bless You!!

Why Dhoni cannot be a role model for India!

Yes Times Now, you got it right when you said we deserved to lose in Sydney with that shameless display of captaincy!! Forget about disappointing 1.2 bn folks back home, ending your innings with a smile and a handshake with the Australian captain was a shocker! I hate it when I see people around me screaming out his name every time the Indian team came out on the field. Seems there is no looking beyond this "ice cold", "dispassionate" captain of a team that lives and breathes on the emotions of its massive populace. 

Why, you ask me? Why am I venting out at the most successful captain the Indian cricket team has had till date? For one, MS Dhoni is not Indian at all!!!

How can it be okay to stay calm under pressure? I mean, we come from a society where a slight nick of our car with another leads to a free for all, public beatdown on the roads. Where kids are given grief for life if they still choose sports over education. Where you have failed as a husband or father if you refuse to see your child over duty to your country. Where the captain of the most popular sport in India consistently goes ahead and praises the team in the face of his own individual achievements. Why is he not publicity hungry? Is he not a celebrity? Can he not star in an episode of Big Boss, Comedy Nights or Dance India Dance? What is with this constant focus on discipline????

I aspire to see normal Indian behavior on and off the field from the Indian Cricket Team. We must blame our wife/girlfriend for our failure and not stand by them. We must look for the limelight in every step we take! We need to remember our team performance is inspired by 'Mauka Mauka' ads and not our training. We must sledge, scream and shout out obscenities to the opposing team whether we win or lose. 

And more so from MSD than anyone else. You come from a small town called Ranchi, to a superstar status for the last 9 years or so. And yet, this humility? You do not have forever, Dhoni. Professional sport has a retirement age and you stand at 33 today, father to a girl you saw 4 months after she was born. Where were your sanskaars when you put your country above your family? Someone else could have taken care of business right? Shame on you..

NO!!! Shame on you, Mr. Goswami! You the elitist, pseudo journalist types with as much knowledge of cricket and life as a cockroach would. All you understand is sensationalizing nonsensical trends and focusing on your channels TRPs. What you did last week was the turning point in your channel's fortunes. We as a nation, just moved from indifference to pure hatred when you ridiculed our team and most importantly, our captain! Yes you idiot, he is the same guy who brought us success in all 3 tournaments-Twenty 20, Champions Trophy and CWC 2011. I wish I could pray you had his temperament, but you unfortunately, epitomize everything that's wrong with us. 

Dhoni can never be a role model for people who trash Anushka for Virat's performance or pass along memes of Sehwag and Yuvraj trolling MSD and co. His perseverance and almost monk like temperament is what India needs, but maybe not what we deserve. The greatest cricketer of our time, Sachin Tendulkar, claimed in an interview he cannot imagine being captained by anyone else. This is a man who has seen more than two decades of the game, from Kapil Dev to Saurav Ganguly- both good captains in their own right. 

For the first time in our cricketing history, the team is bigger than its stars. Individual brilliance is seen as second to team performance. The dressing room is passionate, but not egoistic. Players give their everything on the field, without caring about their personal injuries or nakhras. And all this, driven by one man. 

Dhoni, you can never be replicated. There will never be another like you!  

Disclaimer: I am not a die-hard cricket fan.But the past one week of media bashing forces us to defend not just the sport, but the men behind it. 

Cheers!