"It was a freak accident...." Thats how they explained it, thats exactly how. Maybe you too would have called it a "freak accident" if you happened to be present there, at that moment, you too would have seen - just like i did - the car hit her and go on to bump into a tree. You too would have stood there-just as i did-staring open eyed as your brain calculated fast and tried to come up with a conclusion on whom to help first. And its moments like these that the brain shuts down, refuses to take in anything. Maybe its just not manufactured to take in "freak accidents" like these. And after all would have passed, the bodies taken, the scene cleared, you would walk away- just like many other- to tell others about this "freak accident", but i din't. I stayed. Cause i knew, knew a lot.
But will they still call it a "freak accident" when the parents arrive? won't they be taken into a big room or a small room or any room strong enough to swollow there voices. Will they be told everything? the fight, the letters, the bottle of vodka, the mid-night stroll? Will they be informed about the night he was discovered outside the girls hostel having passed out only after shouting her name out loud countless of times? or that why she had been missing classes or the body pain she had been complaining about so much.
Mothers will cry, fathers will blame each other. Making one last attempt to calm their minds, to find an answer to the questions their children left them with.
But who shall i blame? i knew them well to understand that it was the circumstances that caused all of this to happen. I will sit down where we three always sat when we wanted to get away from everything and what will ring in my ears is something she said to me the last time we spoke:
"Maybe money cannot buy love, but u can end up paying heavily for it."
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
AUSTRALIAN OPEN 2008
Sport follows a plan. Every coach swears by it, every manual prescribes it. To win you need to sweat, embrace consistancy, gain a new perspective, sometimes you change tactics, sometimes your mentor. There are customs to be followed for success. Please understand.
For instance, Nadal takes his game to the workshop for an overhaul, takes the spanner to his mind, tightens his discipline. He manages to reach the semi final of the Australian Open for the first time since turning a pro. This makes sense. Logic is at work here.
For instance, Maria Sharapova oils her awkard movement, polishes her confidance, finds a new perspective to life, mentally takes a leap last year where she brakes barriers against top names in tennis. In Australia, she pushes her way to the final. She wins. no surprise is felt, her work ethic is evident, her discipline plain.
But sometimes, rarely, magnificently, sport makes little sense, it sneers at logic, it laughs at convention, it mocks every rule. Victory lands in from nowhere and its powerfull because it reinforces the art of impossible. Occasionaly it is the closest we come to magic.
What we saw at the open was exceptional. The new surface was approved by almost ever player, the pace added to the ball made tennis even more fun to watch this time.
Unseeded players making it to the final, Serbians exposing a poet's imperfections, the flaws in his meter. Stars packing bags early, players geting into controversies...it was like a priyadarshan movie.
But the end was a swan song for both the finalist, each making a mark at there standings. Justin Henin dissapointed, Sharapova impressed, Venus struggled, Sania depressed, Ivanovic came of age. But its to soon to question Federer's place in tennis. Roddick and Hewitt need a miracle, Nadal needs to find consistancy.
Whatever the outcome, this Slam was something to remember. Not just for what came on the field but also for what went off it.
For instance, Nadal takes his game to the workshop for an overhaul, takes the spanner to his mind, tightens his discipline. He manages to reach the semi final of the Australian Open for the first time since turning a pro. This makes sense. Logic is at work here.
For instance, Maria Sharapova oils her awkard movement, polishes her confidance, finds a new perspective to life, mentally takes a leap last year where she brakes barriers against top names in tennis. In Australia, she pushes her way to the final. She wins. no surprise is felt, her work ethic is evident, her discipline plain.
But sometimes, rarely, magnificently, sport makes little sense, it sneers at logic, it laughs at convention, it mocks every rule. Victory lands in from nowhere and its powerfull because it reinforces the art of impossible. Occasionaly it is the closest we come to magic.
What we saw at the open was exceptional. The new surface was approved by almost ever player, the pace added to the ball made tennis even more fun to watch this time.
Unseeded players making it to the final, Serbians exposing a poet's imperfections, the flaws in his meter. Stars packing bags early, players geting into controversies...it was like a priyadarshan movie.
But the end was a swan song for both the finalist, each making a mark at there standings. Justin Henin dissapointed, Sharapova impressed, Venus struggled, Sania depressed, Ivanovic came of age. But its to soon to question Federer's place in tennis. Roddick and Hewitt need a miracle, Nadal needs to find consistancy.
Whatever the outcome, this Slam was something to remember. Not just for what came on the field but also for what went off it.
And Sharapova, we hope you havent forgotten those roses.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)