The Sport

Life is a short sport. We try and infuse sparks of fervour at our choosen moments clinging to hope that it will make this sport more cherishable. But do we ever spare a breath, and look around to see other chivalrous hope-clingers in the fray? Some never choose these as their worthwhile moments, and some just take a while... The adage of having 'no time to stand and stare' applies to no other profession better. I barely had the time to grumble about the nauseating smell that found its way from my neighbour at the local train, nor to thank the jamaal-incarnate slumboy who very hopefully enlightened me to the topsy-turvy lanes of Mumbai. Yet then, a couple of minutes had passed and I had not moved my eyes from the girl who sat right next to me and looked tired yet accustomed to the scenario. Come on dude. Make a move. ' Why can't they make this place more habitable and less like an oven? We reporters didn't come here to get fried', she looked at me and finished, 'did we?' I am very certain of the confidence I would have sported had I had this girl for an interview or a formal meeting. But my stomach wasted no time in coghing up butterflies from nought. Speak up, dumbo. 'Yeah, definitely, er, not I mean. This is terrible.' Bad begun, all undone. I wasn't used to see a lot of girls in salwars at work of late, but then, she could have got me complaining. They look so much prettier in... 'Which camp are you from?' She was looking around my shirt expecting a badge or a hanging card. 'The Hindu. Staff reporter' 'Are you that dumb? Who do you expect here to come? Chief-editor?' Bad move, mate. No ball in your court for sometime. 'Well, so how's NDTV?', I steered the topic a bit looking at the badge neatly stiched across her suit. 'Doesn't suck terribly. So its kinda okay. Hey, i'm Ishita' Your name, dude. Your name. 'Abhishek!', was all that I managed to squirt, but I wasn't sure if she had heard. 'I can't wait for the debate today. The media is already all ga-ga about it. The Stalwart Stallion Vs. The Puissant Princess. Those two veterans are sure to tear each other apart trying to convince the stockholders of their schemes...', her excited voice was drowned in the hushing noise created as people got up. I scrambled for my stationery and saw Ishita signalling her cameraman who was perched at a distance. A very authoriative looking man had strode in. Without giving any time to take in his full appearance, the co-founder and co-owner of Delicare, Sriram Nagpal started off, 'Without wasting any more time, I would like to draw the attention of my very competent board of directors and venerable stockholders to my latest scheme', and a big image flashed up on the screen behind showing a graph, at the flick of his finger. 'Which', the faces had turned towards a lady dressed in a cream coloured slax, who after the interruption gave no time to the onlookers to know that she was Mrs. Neema Nagpal, co-owner of Delicare and went on, 'is the musing of an obsolete dingbat. You see,' and with a flick of her own finger, a massive image flashed up on an adjoining screen and she hollered on, 'raising the prices of our oil corporation shares and distributing the ever-plummeting pharmaceutical shares amongst the shareholders would be the right...' 'thing to do only after every horrible resort has been utilised. I expected better, Neema.' Sriram turned away from a flaring Neema and without pausing for breath continued, 'Share prices need to go down. A poor man can't buy a share if it threatens to drill a hole in his pocket. If people shy away from our shares, we can't bail ourselves out from this messy situation...' 'which is destined to get messier if your cock-and-bull schemes get their way...', and I witnessed this titanic-clash while my fingers tore away through the pages of writing-pad. They seemed to be no less than two seasoned warlords who would settle for nothing less than the other's blood. Their duel was worth the pains I had taken to get there, it seemed. After a searing half-an-hour, the now air-conditioned hall seemed to be brimming with sparks from the battle. Both the Nagpals sat panting on two seats, and a vote was called. I did not feel any need to augment my story with any spice; it was already hot. Sriram's motion was passed witha narrow majority, whilist incorporating some of Neema's suggestions. As the reporters prepared to leave, I walked toward the secretary for my special assignment. 'Sorry, you must leave. This was a deal we had made with the media for allowing...' Wasting no time, I produced an appointment letter that I knew would be shield enough to ward off the wasp. With the most loathsome look imaginable, she pointed at the door at the far end. I glided towards it, going over the questions I had in mind for each Nagpal. In my excitement, I butted in across the ajar door, without knocking and paid the price. I was shocked beyond all creases that the mind can draw as uncrossable limits. I had expected two wolves to be staring down each other's throats and had not ruled out the possibility of security personnel keeping each bound. But there, mr.Nagpal lied on the lap of a transformed Mrs.Nagpal who stroked hios head with all her long burgundy hair over his face. I knew, I had to act. 'I'm sorry. I'll join you later' But before I could retreat, 'No.no please come in! We do mind company now', and Mrs.Nagpal grinned. 'But its alright!' I questioned a very different Sriram about business policies and new schemes but all that I got was, 'Neema does this magic after every meeting', he eyed his gleaming wife naughtily, 'and I just forget everything! You seem young son, what's your name?' I was taken aback, but answered nevertheless, 'Abhishek' 'Abhishek! Duty and occupation is of primary importance, and you seem to be too dilligent to be an alien to this. But life is not about business policies and income deficits and all that twisted crap. Its also not only about scribbling when two bloodthirsty morons scream.' Mrs.Nagpal laughed aloud. 'Its just much more. Well, I ain't a guru at this, but I have realised, it all matters when choose the sportsman who you want to carry the torch with. The rest of it is the same old business which we do one way or the other. So comeon dude. Start looking around. Life is a short sport.' ***********************

'Er,' The name dude, the name. Don't blow this up. 'Ishita! Would you mind coffee sometime today?'...