LIFE AND LIES #31 | For Name Sake

Dear Modi Ji,

Thanks for the honour. It feels great to know that even after all these years, my achievements are brought to the fore and regarded in such a manner. Though, I feel you shouldn't have taken the trouble. I, anyway, receive a lot of love when everyone celebrates National Sports Day on my birthday. Now by renaming an award that was formerly dedicated to an erstwhile PM, you have dragged me into something I was never interested in. Politics. As usual, the tirade will follow. Congress lamenting: WHY? Your party commenting: WHY NOT? Amidst all this, the men and women who have done nothing but strive for success, who rarely receive the limelight will recede in shadows once again. Someone as competent as you must have seen this coming for I'm sure this wasn't deliberate. You had your heart in the right place and you just wanted to honour me. But this honour that you bestow on me is also accompanied by a sadness, a realisation that in light of our recent achievement, you couldn't think of any other hockey player to honour. Did you fall short of names? If yes, then why?

What these men and women have achieved is remarkable. But, it's just a start. Bronze is not something you aim for, it's something you settle for. I have won Gold. I want Gold. India wants Gold. These men and women want Gold. And if it takes another four years to achieve that, so be it. We'll work for it.

All I want to ask you is: What are you going to do about it?

Regards,

Major Dhyan Chand

Comments

LIFE AND LIES #57 | Neil Nitin Mukesh (#2)

"Krishna is a married man but he's always revered along with Radha, his lover. What if... say Rukmani, said to Krishna one day, that she'd rather be Radha?" Nitin uttered his thought out loud then looked around the room. While the others had stopped long back, Neil was pouring himself another drink. Only he could drink so much on a Sunday night, because unlike the others, his Monday had been declared a Bank holiday. It was Mukesh who was sober enough to reply to his question. "Radha spent her years in sadness longing for Krishna. Rukmani would not want to be in her place." "What if...'' smiled Nitin. He always placed the actual question he wanted to ask as the second question. "One day, after reading my work, my wife says to me that she'd rather be one of the women I write about so passionately." "The women you choose to write about are also inherently sad," Mukesh was quick with a reply. "Ask your wife then, would ...

LIFE AND LIES #85 | By God's Grace

Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 3 of 3 Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 1 of 3: The Bhagirathi Sisters Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 2 of 3: A Hearty Submission "Did you sully my good name again to justify your coming here?" "The mountain is named after you. It wasn't that long a shot." "Why can't you stay in the city like a normal person? Plan your life ahead. Get married, have kids, and so on." "When I was a kid, we had this clay modelling class where the teacher expected us to combine earth and water to build statues of God. I always ended up with a dried lump of clay." "That's your take on marriage? Doesn't science tell you that life arose from a mixture of earth and water? Nature gave that a chance. Why can't you?" "Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?" "I know almost everything. That doesn't mean I can't delight myself with a conversation now a...

Whispers and Words #22 | The Red Letterbox

A day before my vacation came to an end, while I readied my luggage, already occupied mostly with the snacks prepared by my mother, my father had only one thing to add - a stack of postcards, along with an instruction to drop one in the letterbox every week, during my time in school. I used to be a dutiful son in my childhood days. I did as I was asked. Every Sunday evening, I took a stroll on my own, carrying a written postcard. Where the road from the hostel turned towards our classrooms, there was a huge tree, and attached to its massive trunk was a red letterbox. It was cylindrical and had two openings at the front side. The top opening had a flap that swiveled back on a gentle push, allowing me to drop the postcard. The bottom opening had a small door with a tiny lock on it. There was a certain kind of mystery associated with the entire thing - from the moment the postcard dropped with a hollow sound in the box to the moment it was delivered to my home. I never got to see the post...

Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

Search This Blog