When Sachin Plays

When Sachin plays, big-city roads are easy and trains and buses ply empty at rush hour and the markets take a beating...

When Sachin plays, grandmothers who know next to nothing about the game forget knitting and resting and medicines and pray their gods as they sit frozen, staring nervously at their television screen...

When Sachin plays , busy, ambitious executives ignore their calls and cancel their appointments and avoid their clients and miss their deadlines amd their careers on hold...

When Sachin plays, college Common Rooms are dense and tense and hushed as an entire generation sits on pins and needles...

When Sachin plays, school-yards are silent and playgrounds are deserted because those who normally make such a racket imitating their hero are all too busy watching him make batting look so ridiculously easy...

When Sachin plays, fathers who want the news and daugthers and mothers who always want soft stuff and brothers who fight for action, for once all agree on what to watch...

When Sachin plays, bowlers and fielders and opposing captains feel their impotence and inadequacy like at no other time and curse themselves and wonder what they can do, if anything, to end the shame, the nightmare, the humiliation...

When Sachin plays, commentators and experts run out of adjectives and expressions of wonder and comparisons...

When Sachin plays, lay spectators have no need for words at all and just jump and scream and whistle and clap and hug each other and cry and wave their flags and banners and thank their lucky stars for being there...

When Sachin plays, India forgets its differences and divisions and teeters between tensions and exhilaration and breaths and laughs and cries as one, as its heart fills with pride and joy and patriotism...

When Sachin plays, all else is IRRELEVANT.

Dad and Son

A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year-old son
waiting for him at the door...

Son: "Daddy, may I ask you a question"

Daddy: "Yeah sure, what it is?"

Son: "Dad, how much do you make an hour"

Daddy: "That's none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?"

Son: "I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?"

Daddy: "I make Rs. 500 an hour"

"Oh", the little boy replied, with his head down.

Looking up, he said, "Dad, may I please borrow Rs. 300?"

The father was furious,
"if the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money
to buy a silly toy or other nonsense, then march yourself to your room and go to
bed.
Think why you are being so selfish. I work hard everyday for such this childish
behavior"

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.

The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy's
questions.

How dare he ask such questions only to get some money?

After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down,
and started to think:

"May be there was something he really needed to buy with that
Rs. 300 and he really didn't ask for money very often!"

The man went to the door of little boy's room and opened the door.
"Are you asleep, son?" He asked.
"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy.

"I've been thinking, may be I was too hard on you earlier", said the man,
"It's been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you.
Here's the Rs.300 you asked for"

The little boy sat straight up, smiling "oh thank you dad!" He yelled.

Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled some crippled up notes.
The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again.

The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at his father.

"Why do you want money if you already had some?" the father grumbled.

"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied.
"Daddy I have Rs. 500 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?
Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you"