The sun shone down mercilessly. The May humidity was too much to bear. Sitting on the windswept thirteenth floor terrace of the building, she wondered how she would surmount the humongous mountain in front of her. Wasn't there a better place to do this, she thought? But in her heart, she knew there was none. It had to be done here, of all places.
For an agonising four months, she had to endure the torture that was the climate on the terrace. Her health already beset with problems galore compounded by the hostile environment at home, she braced herself for the task. At times, the mosaic flooring on the terrace gleamed so much in the sunshine that she could not see anything. Her skin ravaged by sun burn, she plodded on. At times, her frail health could no longer shoulder the burden. But she plodded on, knowing that this was her only chance. This was where emancipation lay. Pain killing injections temporarily numbed her senses to pain. Determination bordering on obstinacy did the rest.
Then came the day that would reveal whether all her labours had been in vain or otherwise. The computer screen was blank. Then suddenly it appeared. Pooja Purohit. Group-I 'PASS'. Group-II 'PASS'. She had done it! She was now a Chartered Accountant, having cleared the final hurdle in her first attempt. It would take a while to sink in.
She cast a glance at the terrace, now under siege from the monsoon clouds. "I did it all up there?", she asked in disbelief. Yes, I said. Glory is thine today, my beloved sister. Take a bow. This is your moment. Entirely yours.
Monday, 14 July 2008
Monday, 7 July 2008
The Master vanquished; the Kingdom lost
A pall of gloom has descended over our household. The perennially blaring TV is conspicuously switched off. My sis is noticeably more irritable than usual. My mom is so morose you can feel something has horribly gone wrong. No one can reconcile to the fact that Roger Federer has been dislodged from the Wimbledon throne.
All these years, Federer towered head and shoulders above the others. No doubt this generation has seen some very fine players. Hewitt, Safin, Davydenko, Roddick (who is possibly the greatest server of a tennis ball the world has seen), but they merely provided context to the occassion. It was always Federer the Master lording it over all.
Since the time Rafael Nadal stormed onto the scene in 2005 by winning the French Open, Federer and Nadal have shared a staggering 13 of the last 14 Grand Slams. Of the 14, they have contested each other in 7 finals. Nadal has won 4 of the them now. One is tempted to ask, is Federer's exalted status amplified by the fact that all these years, he has had no challenger worthy of taking the fight to him? No one, until this baby faced assassin from Spain came along, with all the spunk and guts of a bull fighter.
And suddenly, Federer forgets how to convert break points. In yesterday's final, he converted one out of 13 break points. Suddenly, his serve seems vulnerable, despite sending down over 25 aces in the match. Each time he holds, a relieved Vijay Amritraj gasps,"And Federer manages to hold on". Suddenly he is no longer setting the pace. The pace is being set by Nadal. And it is so furious and ferocious a pace that the Master seems perturbed. Like all greats, Federer doesn't like being hurried. He's used to dictating the points. No doubt, he can strike with the speed of a viper when needed, but he decides the timing. He seems hassled, even irritated, while Nadal runs all around the court like a terrier out of control, retrieving and returning all that Federer can throw at him. At 5-2 in the 4th set tiebreak, it seems all over for the defending champion. But even Rafa can have a bout of nerves, or so it seems. He serves up a double fault. Some vintage stuff from the Master allows him to survive, but only just. Nadal has 2 championship points. The beautiful backhand conjures up some magic yet again. And suddenly, Federer has the 4th set. There's hope still. He seems strangely reluctant to take the fight to Nadal in the 5th set, seemingly content holding on to his own serve. Or is it that try hard as he might, the Nadal serve won't be broken today? Nadal's 2nd serve is more vicious than the 1st, kicking high into the backhand corner. Like a machine, he keeps pinging Federer's comparatively weaker backhand to the extent that when presented with a rare forehand opportunity, the Master is so overeager that he pulls it wide. Again and again.
All through the match, Federer has played catch up. It ends when he no longer can. Nadal meanwhile could have gone on for another five sets. Its all over. The emperor has been vanquished in his own den. In the stands, Bjorn Borg can breathe easy that his record of five consecutive Wimbledon titles still stands.
For the first time in six years, 'R Federer' won't be there on the honour list. It will be 'R Nadal' instead. A sun rises in the east. Another has probably started its descent towards the west. The setting sun always seems more beautiful, more poignant . . . more romantic. You want it to hang around for that much longer. But the rising sun carries more potential and shines brighter. Am I jumping the gun? Is the era of the Swiss Master beginning to end? Time is the best judge.
All these years, Federer towered head and shoulders above the others. No doubt this generation has seen some very fine players. Hewitt, Safin, Davydenko, Roddick (who is possibly the greatest server of a tennis ball the world has seen), but they merely provided context to the occassion. It was always Federer the Master lording it over all.
Since the time Rafael Nadal stormed onto the scene in 2005 by winning the French Open, Federer and Nadal have shared a staggering 13 of the last 14 Grand Slams. Of the 14, they have contested each other in 7 finals. Nadal has won 4 of the them now. One is tempted to ask, is Federer's exalted status amplified by the fact that all these years, he has had no challenger worthy of taking the fight to him? No one, until this baby faced assassin from Spain came along, with all the spunk and guts of a bull fighter.
And suddenly, Federer forgets how to convert break points. In yesterday's final, he converted one out of 13 break points. Suddenly, his serve seems vulnerable, despite sending down over 25 aces in the match. Each time he holds, a relieved Vijay Amritraj gasps,"And Federer manages to hold on". Suddenly he is no longer setting the pace. The pace is being set by Nadal. And it is so furious and ferocious a pace that the Master seems perturbed. Like all greats, Federer doesn't like being hurried. He's used to dictating the points. No doubt, he can strike with the speed of a viper when needed, but he decides the timing. He seems hassled, even irritated, while Nadal runs all around the court like a terrier out of control, retrieving and returning all that Federer can throw at him. At 5-2 in the 4th set tiebreak, it seems all over for the defending champion. But even Rafa can have a bout of nerves, or so it seems. He serves up a double fault. Some vintage stuff from the Master allows him to survive, but only just. Nadal has 2 championship points. The beautiful backhand conjures up some magic yet again. And suddenly, Federer has the 4th set. There's hope still. He seems strangely reluctant to take the fight to Nadal in the 5th set, seemingly content holding on to his own serve. Or is it that try hard as he might, the Nadal serve won't be broken today? Nadal's 2nd serve is more vicious than the 1st, kicking high into the backhand corner. Like a machine, he keeps pinging Federer's comparatively weaker backhand to the extent that when presented with a rare forehand opportunity, the Master is so overeager that he pulls it wide. Again and again.
All through the match, Federer has played catch up. It ends when he no longer can. Nadal meanwhile could have gone on for another five sets. Its all over. The emperor has been vanquished in his own den. In the stands, Bjorn Borg can breathe easy that his record of five consecutive Wimbledon titles still stands.
For the first time in six years, 'R Federer' won't be there on the honour list. It will be 'R Nadal' instead. A sun rises in the east. Another has probably started its descent towards the west. The setting sun always seems more beautiful, more poignant . . . more romantic. You want it to hang around for that much longer. But the rising sun carries more potential and shines brighter. Am I jumping the gun? Is the era of the Swiss Master beginning to end? Time is the best judge.
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