Life Is What We Make Of It
by TSK. Raman
It's about 15 odd years ago my little boy called Abi who began to play league cricket, used to have matches every Sunday, and I would take him, be with him the whole day and bring him back. I would also always get tempted to play, as I used to play regularly long ago, but I resisted my temptation for a reasons
- I didn't want grab a chance which could very well go to a kid,
- I wasn't wanting to risk any injury should I play, because an injury would affect not only my home but would also interfere with my professional life because injuries can always take a while to heal
- I wasn't going to last a whole day playing from morning to evening, week-after-week, as grabbing a day's rest during a working week was most essential to recharge myself for the week ahead after the weekend.
All this said, there was a match I wanted to play very badly for two reasons
- It was going to be played in one of my most favorite grounds, a place in the Army Cantonment side. The ground nestled in a serene locale surrounded by trees all around, and a hill in the background making it a perfect setting of playing in the countryside. I told my friends, who were in charge of the team my son was playing for. These guys were known to me earlier too as they started playing just a few years before I called it a day. Now these guys were grown up too and they were playing along with their sons, for encouraging them and also coaching them in the process.
Finally the day which I was waiting for arrived.
A few days before this I used to do a bit of jogging and stretching exercises just enough to feel a little loose. It was just enough, but by no means anywhere close to what it ought to actually be. For this level and that too for just one day, it might have just served the purpose.
We got up early and got dressed up and made a dash to the ground which wasn't far away from where we stayed. I was dreaming that I would take to the field along with my son, and who knows we might even bat together, so that I might guide him to make a substantial contribution. We reached the ground before the others and slowly one by one all the others trickled in. We greeted each other, and as soon as my friends saw me dressed, they knew I was serious about it. they went into a huddle and in a few minutes they came to tell me the news that only one of us could play (my son or me), and the choice was on me. I looked into the distance, my son was practicing catches, after knocking a few balls. As told earlier, I wanted to play this match, very much because it also had some of my old friends in the opposite camp. I was furious as much as I felt sorry for my little son should I choose to play, because he will be disappointed. My heart was heavy, however, I gathered courage to share this thought with my son. He looked at hi mates for he has been a part in a few matches earlier. His mother back home knew that he had his heart set on being in the play and she was worried about how he would react if he wasn’t chosen.
This day was never like any before as I was feeling anxious about the outcome. Abi, his eyes were shining with pride and excitement, hugged me, and said, "Guess what Dad," he shouted, and then said the words that can provide a lesson to us all, "I've chosen to clap and cheer for you today."
