‘MY NAME IS OMRAN’

Just like last year Alan Kurdi, the three year old Syrian toddler of Kurdish ethnicity, made global headlines when the gripping photo of his lifeless body lying facedown in the sand of the beach, after he drowned in the Mediterranean Sea while migrating with his family from war-stricken Syria to Europe, were taken by Turkish journalist Nilufer Demir and quickly spread around the world, prompting international responses, this year too witnessed another such moment which made many’s hearts cry ( at least mine) and raised questions about the very existence of humanity.

Omran Daqneesh, a small Syrian boy from the rebel-held area of Aleppo, captured the attention of millions of people around the world, who watched the arresting video of him as he wiped dried blood and thick soot from his face.

Omran’s 10-year-old brother, Ali, died of wounds he suffered during this attack. Such pathetic is the state of affairs in Syria that it has become difficult to count the number of Syrian children who are dying in this endless bloodshed.

Even the cameraman who first took the pictures of Omran when he was pulled out of the rubble following an airstrike was shocked to see his reaction. Mustafa al-Sarut , the cameraman told,”Honestly, to this day, I haven’t seen a look of shock on someone’s face as I saw with Omran. Any child that is dug out from the rubble is either crying or screaming.”

Time and again, the big  world powers, for their own selfish motives, have created and nurtured such forces in third world countries. And afterwards, they step in, bombard the places, bombard the humanity, kill thousands of innocents as a result and pretend to become the saviours of the world.

It’s become easier for them to develop Nukes than a Cohesive World.

 

I could not have better described my agony, angst, pain and emotion of helplessness towards Alan Kurdi, Omran Daqneesh and thousands of these little angels, than through the following poem.

 

‘MY NAME IS OMRAN’

 

Everyday I used to hear, sounds of bombs exploding,

Little did I know, that it was actually our existence eroding.

My parents used to tell me that, they will not kill a child,

But, why then, stepping out of home seems stepping into the wild?

 

We are used to live in this land of the living dead,

Familiar to the sights of execution, rapes and mass behead.

Spending terrifying days and horrific nights since half a decade,

The only means to survive are the leftovers and foreign aid.

 

Up to the very horizon, I can just see similar sightings,

Scores of men, tanks, jets all involved in endless fighting.

People running around, being spotted and getting killed,

What kind of a game is it that makes these men thrilled?

 

I have never got a toy to play amidst this fit of rage,

But I’ve seen Kalashnikovs in the hands of children my age.

Why do they actually hold them, don’t big boys play with these toys?

How would I come to know, as Ammi never lets me play with these boys.

 

This morning I was at home with my brother and Ammi,

Waiting for her to cook and serve something for my tummy.

But all of a sudden, I heard a very loud sound,

Cometh has a bomb from a jet making the rounds.

 

Tearing the roof apart and destroying my beloved dwelling,

Finally, I became a soft target of this insane shelling.

A big piece of concrete fell bang on my head,

Was it big enough to tear me into shreds?

 

After this, for some time, it seemed like I took a nap,

Only to find myself, later, in a rescue officer’s lap.

He took me and made me sit on a chair in an ambulance,

People are now telling that I looked as if in a state of trance.

 

With a dust and blood caked face and blood flowing from my head,

I slowly touched my wound, only to find my little hand red.

Is this ‘Red’ the colour of my blood or also of others,

If yes, then why the hell are brothers killing brothers?

 

As I sat incomprehensively, the lensmen started taking pictures,

But why?! I wasn’t a celebrity or a saint holding any scripture.

I remember how my slain friend Alan Kurdi’s picture got viral last year,

But does it really relieve our plight, when you people shed a tear?

 

They tell me now that the attack has killed my ten year old brother,

He has also met his fate, just like my brothers from another mother.

Why do they keep on indiscriminately killing thousands and millions?

Why not on food and shelter, but on bombs, they invest billions?

 

I’ll now leave it to be answered by all the protectors of mankind,

Who, in the name of combating terror, stab innocents in behind.

Creating, nurturing and then destroying terror for their selfish ends,

Are these nations the saviours or foes disguised as friends?

 

My five year old life can be compared to that of a rat in a gutter,

Home collapsed, spirit destroyed, injured and in search of my mother.

I can’t even feel this pain as I am stilled with shock and trauma,

My name is Omran Daqneesh, can anyone please find me my Maa?

 

– 23.08.2016

 

 

 

 

Do dreams come true ?

This was the sweetest and most pleasant surprise I could have ever got in my life. Yes, the early morning of August 17th 2016  brought with it something which I would love to treasure for the rest of my life and here I am trying to set forth in words what I felt, so as to make it immortal.

I don’t exactly remember what time it was as there was no time piece nearby, but it must be in the wee hours when the shrieking sound of door bell tore apart the peaceful silence. With lidded eyes I went on to open the inner wooden main door so as to look through the outer door, who on earth has gotten up before the Sun and come to bother me.Slowly opening those half closed eyes and with some degree of fear and caution, I looked out and found an around 6 feet tall figure standing there. After rubbing my eyes to remove the haze, what I saw made me numb with shock at first and scream with all the air in my lungs subsequently.

Wow! It was a sight which, in fascination, was second to none. Can someone ever imagine the reaction of a staunch theist  if she/he gets to see Gods, in fact, meet them. My reaction was certainly a notch above when I saw my idol, my inspiration, the one whom I admire like no one else, the peRFectionist, the G.O.A.T.- Roger ‘Freaking’ Federer standing at my door, in flesh and blood. I stood still with my eyes popped out, mouth wide open in disbelief, heart pounding like never before and mind unable to process anything. To be specific- I was dumbstruck.

How could this be possible ? More than how, why should it be possible ? Why would a superstar, one of the greatest athletes in the world come to my place and that too all by himself and completely unnoticed. May be that is why he chose such a time to come. My lips couldn’t move a bit, I couldn’t utter a word and it felt like my world has turned upside down. I pinched myself hard and then realized that he was for real. The man whom I have been dreaming of meeting since years has come by himself to meet me ?! Man Oh Man ! What next ?

I literally pounced on him and hugged him like anything, with tears rolling down my cheeks. He just patted at my back and I welcomed him inside. We didn’t even sit as it was just talking and endless talking and nothing else. My silence turned into an outburst of emotions as I talked my heart out to him. I then showed him my poems and sketches of him and could sense that he was impressed, at least he looked like he was. Then came the moment of disbelief for my Maa. On seeing him, hers was a mild reaction, not as wild as mine. She just stood where she was and it was Roger who came forward and did what was totally unexpected out of him. He approached my Maa, bent down and touched her feet, the Indian way of seeking elders’ blessings. Wow!! Where did he learn that from ? My Maa, with utmost affection, placed her hands on his head and blessed him as if he was her own child. I can’t still figure out that how come my Dad still managed to sleep, despite all these events taking place right next to his room?

All of a sudden then, he told me that he would be leaving then. I thought, how could I let the biggest delight of my life, stay for just five minutes in it, and vanish. I told him that I am not going to let him go anywhere for sometime now. He, on the other hand, with his trademark killer smile, insisted to take a leave. But, may be the rain gods were also with him. Just a moment later, we noticed a light drizzle outside, from my window and with a sigh of relief and a pinch of false hope, I tried to convince him by saying that since it had started drizzling he will have to wait for sometime. But, he is a busy man with his time, not all his. He looked at his iPhone, called his driver (maybe) and bid adieu, right there right then.This surprise, though for a few minutes, constituted the best moment of my life, the one which I would remember till I breathe last. But people, the best part of this whole crazy incident is yet to come.

I experienced a feeling like never before, an emotion of unparalleled happiness combined with the widest of smile when I finally opened my eyes and woke up holding my pillow so tight as if I was actually holding Roger’s hand. How could a dream feel so realistic, so touching, so refreshing, so rejuvenating ? Yes, that was a dream, the best I have ever had in my life.

As soon as I woke up, with that smile touching the corners of my ears, I could only wish to have the power of Lucid Dreaming so that I could enter into my sub-conscious and control it just like Dominick Cobb (Di Caprio) did it in Chris Nolan’s Inception. Never ever have I felt so delighted yet so helpless. I could also recall a similar dream where I met with my God, the one and only PAAJI (Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar) few years ago and had the  golden opportunity to play cricket with him. This simply depicts how much love and respect I have for these two greats , for these immortals and how much of them I have inside me.

I hope that I was able to express what I really felt that morning and also that those who are in awe of him (RF) or anyone else, like I am, would be able to connect with my emotions. Signing off with a hope of realizing this dream of meeting him, somehow, somewhere, sometime.

RForever.

 

 

WELL DONE DIPA.

 

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND – JULY 31: Bronze medallist Dipa Karmakar of India competes in the Women’s Vault Final during day eight of the Glasgow 2014 Commonwealth Games on July 31, 2014 in Glasgow, Scotland. (Photo by Robert Cianflone/Getty Images)

Considering the level of performance exhibited by this 23 year old girl, who was an unknown name till the beginning of Rio Olympics, the title of this post seems a bit mediocre. Yes, but these were the first words which came out of my mouth as I was in awe of her, when I witnessed her epic performance in the finals of  Women’s Vault Gymnastics event in the Rio Olympics 2016.

Millions of Indians were waiting for this event to be televised on the night of 14th August 2016 and were expecting Dipa Karmakar, an artistic gymnast hailing from Agartala and the first Indian female gymnast ever to compete in the Olympics and the first Indian gymnast, man or woman, to do so in 52 years, to open India’s account in the medals tally.

Since the past two weeks or so, the first name to appear on Google’s search box on typing ‘DIPA’ was hers. We could see her posters and pictures on streets of Delhi, in the newspapers, magazines and where not. It is not that it was her first big event, she has done wonders for India in the past too.She first gained attention when she won a bronze medal at the 2014 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow becoming the first Indian female gymnast to do so in the history of the Games. But the fact to be really proud of is that she is one of only five women who have successfully landed the PRODUNOVA, the most difficult vault currently performed in women’s gymnastics. It was the same vault which she performed for her second attempt in the finals at Rio. It is named after Yelena Produnova of Russia, who was the first person to compete it successfully in 1999. The vault is considered as the most high risk manoeuvre and many have raised their voices to ban it. PRODUNOVA sees an athlete sprint and catapult into the air, completing two somersaults before landing on their feet safely. Even the most gifted gymnasts are shy of attempting it and that is why only five gymnasts till now have successfully executed the extremely difficult Produnova –  

1. Yalena Produnova   2. Yamilet Pena   3. Fadwa Mohammad    4.Oksana Chusovitina                     5. Our very own champ Dipa Karmakar

I was waiting with bated breath to witness this special event and what  I saw was stupendous. Out of the eight finalists, only three attempted Produnova, Dipa’s being the best. But, still she couldn’t manage to grab a spot on top three, having been beaten by a difference of just 0.15 for a Bronze. She finished fourth with an impressive score of 15.066.

A girl hailing from Tripura, who started practicing gymnastics at the age of six, was first refused to be given training as she was flat footed, which is not good for a gymnast. But she, along with her coach, trained extremely hard to get the curve in her feet and achieve this feat. Representing Tripura in the 2011 National Games of India, she won gold medals in all the four events. In 2014 Commonwealth games, she won a Bronze medal, owing to her Produnova vault and became the first Indian woman to win a Commonwealth Games gymnastics medal, and the second Indian overall. This, followed by a bronze at 2015 Asian championships too.

But, this is only the one side of her story. The other side being full of agony, sacrifices,  hard work and sheer apathy on part of Sports administrators, politicians and media of this country. Who even knew the name of Dipa Karmakar before the beginning of Rio Olympics ? Like thousands of Indian athletes she had to fight not only her opponents but also murky sport politics, indifference of authorities, and lack of funds and infrastructure. Poor standards of coaching camps, minimal foreign exposure or competition and no government funding has crushed the morale of Indian gymnasts. But Dipa’s determination combined with effective guidance by former national champion Bisheshwar Nandi as a dedicated coach, was a blessing in disguise. Gymnastic is a tough sport to master and can be even tougher if one doesn’t have proper equipment. Before the French equipment was made available to Dipa, she had to train on makeshift equipment, which can lead to injuries. Another incident which should bring even more shame to us was when Dipa’s request for her long-time physio to accompany her to Rio was deemed WASTEFUL by the Sports Authority of India. As per a revelation by her family, the officials had questioned her, “You’re going alone, why do you need a physio”.  But when she qualified for the Final, her physio was rushed to Rio to keep her in best shape in order to help India escape the embarrassment of returning medal less.

If we feel so much of frustration and devastation by such pathetic attitude of our administrators and politicians, then we could easily imagine the plight of our contingent who goes out there to actually perform with a burden of expectations of 1.25 billion people. I really don’t know when this system is going to get an overhaul which it badly requires seeing the state of Indian sports, except Cricket. But, one thing which I can surely infer is that no media hype, no ambassadorship, no social media support can bring us medals and sparkling performances unless sports is taken seriously in this country from the school level, P.T. periods (considered to be waste of time) are not hijacked by teachers, and political will engulfs political arrogance.

However, keeping all the problems aside for a moment, I’ll take this opportunity to take a bow for the unforgettable confident performances by you Dipa, which has made all of us Indians and the World Gymnast community proud. You have done the best you could, as you told in a post event interview – ” Did my vault as best as I can. Will do better in 2020 Olympics”. Medals are not a parameter of measuring one’s progress, one’s prowess. You have certainly won billions of hearts Dipa and made a special place in mine.That little bit more which could have landed you on that podium is to be provided by our administrators, our politicians, the media, the affluent section of society and by all of us who do not think beyond Cricket as a national sport.

This Independence Day, India has got a hero in you. Dipa Nova ! Way to go girl. Keep it up.

 

 

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROGER.

So here it is finally. After pondering for so long, I’ve finally come out with my blog ‘The Screaming Introvert’. Just another way to express and open my heart out. What a pleasant coincidence it is that my first post comes on this very very special day. What a day and what a topic to start blogging. It’s the birthday of one of the most loved athletes of the world, someone whom I idolize, I respect and I love beyond limit.

My association with Roger is now 13 years old, the first time I watched him play was in 2003 Wimbledon when he won his first ever Major. That day and today, my fanaticism for him has never seen the smallest of decline. The love has just increased manifold. That’s why I did what I’m best at. My feelings for him, this time, have taken the shape of a poem and a sketch- just a small token of my unconditional, eternal love for him.

Please have a look at them and don’t be too critical. It’s just my first blog.

-RForever

 

HAPPY  BIRTHDAY  ROGER

Blessed is the land, which has got a native in you,

Blessed are the parents, who have got a child like you.

Blessed is this world, to have witnessed a human like you,

Blessed are we fans, to be born in the same era as you.

 

Thirty five years of living a dream and fulfilling it with passion,

Not many have got such grit, to take their ambitions to fruition.

A journey of transition from a ‘Hothead’ to a calm and composed one,

With many a crest and trough, but with dedication second to none.

 

Lucky was the game of Tennis that it could get, in you, an all-time great,

Lucky was the day when you first held that racquet, at the age of eight.

Who could have imagined then that this kid would become the undisputed King,

Who could have even sensed, that he would remain the untamed lion of the ring.

 

Being the Numero Uno for two decades, both on and off the court,

You’re not just a human, you’re an institution and you’re the G.O.A.T.

A champion athlete, a great human and the greatest philanthropist,

You’ve always ensured that generosity’s rain clears prodigality’s mist.

 

Be it free flowing slice or the dart like forehand, be it the killer ace or that one handed backhand,

Years have passed on, opponents came and gone, but your eternal magic remains ever so grand.

On court movement just like a poem, style off it beats any superstar,

In this cruel Empire of Tennis, you were and will always be the Czar.

 

With exemplary humility you welcomed victories, glory and every feat.

And not only in your wins, but you’ve been equally gracious in defeat.

Your insane love for the game and respect for your opponents,

Has certainly placed you amongst Tennis’s greatest exponents.

 

It’s been tough time for a while now and not much seems going your way,

But you have ensured to keep your cool and keep all negativity away.

This year has not gone quite well, injuries having taken a toll,

But you’re blessed with a lovely family, who’ll now take up its role.

 

Every minute of my life now, wishes the best for you,

With high hopes of seeing a fitter, faster and better you.

It’s just a matter of time when you will bounce back again,

Leaving behind all agony and overcoming all the pain.

 

On this day so special, this is the least that I could wish,

May you be blessed with good healthand may all ills vanish.

Your life is not just yours Champ, millions of us breathe you,

Hoping and praying for your well-being, showering our love so true.

 

What else could I want for you; you’ve got everything you need,

Just hoping that this reaches you, and may you pay some heed.

May you comeback Strongerer, and all evils be kept at bay,

Wishing you tons of love, wishing you a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

 

– MohakChaudhary

08.08.2016