From debutant to devotion: Virat's 18!

Insignificant point. Significant master.

It took me 24 hours to read the best of writers and listen to the finest voices. It took me a while to challenge myself on why I once preferred the Kings to the Royal Challengers. But I’ve convinced myself—it comes down to one thing: legends don’t need reaffirmation.

Virat, the king, made a statement that shook the cricketing world—at a moment when, I’d wager, 99.9% of his fanbase was in sync with his tears—when he declared, “Test cricket is always five levels above everything else.” That, to me, says it all. Absolutely says it all. It’s a reminder that skills, unless tested at the highest level, don’t amount to experience.

@thegradecricketer9633, perhaps the most fitting tribute so far, captured the essence of Virat—the man behind the numbers. Rightly so. To think it took 18 years to clinch a premier title—from youthful ambition to the cusp of retirement—when every single plank of the ship changed, except his, and yet he steered it through storms to finally discover an island of dreams.

I wrote about this man back in the day, and I’ve continued to celebrate his “Class!” with the same awe across a decade on Twitter.

400+ runs in 10 different IPL seasons. For ONE team!

That’s not just a stat—it’s a testament to indomitable skill, a reflection of relentless drive, and a lifelong commitment to excellence.

Class!

I’m am closing my eyes and watching his cover drive—perhaps the finest sight in cricket since the man who wore #10.

Ted Lasso. You must be real.

Sometimes, when life throws curveballs, we need a little something to lift our spirits. That something for me has been "Ted Lasso." It's more than just a TV show; it's a delightful escape and a reservoir of life lessons that help me get through tough thoughts, like times.

Ted Lasso, an American football coach who ends up managing AFC Richmond, a fictional English soccer team, brings some unexplainable positivity and heart to every episode. He's the epitome of perseverance and patience. Patience, actually. Watching Ted face the unknown with a smile and a "let's do this" attitude reminds me that even when I'm out of my depth, staying persistent can make all the difference.

Oh Ted! Your humility and nobility, and humor, is insane. How could you treat everyone with respect and kindness, no matter how they're treating you? (I picked my knife on Nate!) You have been a game-changer for me in my life. In a world where ego and competition can run high, your approach is a refreshing reminder to stay grounded and kind.

Anyway...Ted's resilience must inspire you. Despite facing a barrage of challenges, both personal and professional, he keeps moving forward with a positive outlook. He plays the game. "Win or lose, doesn't matter. Bow wow!" It's a powerful lesson in not letting setbacks define us. And then there's the way he builds relationships with his team, turning a group of individuals into a family. The power of friendship and unity! 

Even when people are throwing "wankers" at him or using him for their own gains, Ted doesn't let it change who he is. Kindness isn't just a trait; it's a strength, no?

The characters in Ted Lasso are wonderfully complex. Rebecca's transformation from an antagonist to a supportive ally, Nate's journey through guilt and redemption, and the camaraderie among the football players all add layers to the show. While I do have a bit of a gripe with Roy's lack of composure or the obnoxious weight of his shoulders, it serves as a reminder that everyone has their flaws and that growth is an ongoing process.

The filmmaking and screenplay of "Ted Lasso" draw me into finding parallels with other great TV shows. The creators, Jason "Ted" Sudeikis, Bill Lawrence, Joe Kelly, and Brendan Hunt, have crafted a world that feels heartwarming (not so authentic, but I will leave that debate to myself). The use of Richmond as the backdrop adds to the charm, and the seamless blend of humor and drama instantly lightens my burden. The writing is sharp, and the character development is superb, making each episode a joy to watch.

I have to love "Ted Lasso," it is now my go-to for positivity and wisdom. 

I am still mad about how Ted ended up in London from Wichita. He should have landed in real. 

Off color

She said he said

She slumped into the large wing chair in the corner of their lightless living room. She slapped herself lightly as if to wake herself up from the feeling that was drowning every bit of her mood. She was reluctant to put herself to sleep. She wanted to do nothing. 

The lofty wing chair was indeed too large for her five-foot frame. “I fell in love with that you know,” he said, from the other end of the room. He was typing away nimbly on his dying laptop. 

“Baru asked me yesterday what you meant to me,” he went on. “I told him about how that tiny beautiful woman, who never cared about…” He paused and shifted his fingers to the edge of his keyboard. “....her dusky looks, had the courage to dream big.”

She broke into a frown and closed her eyes, only to open them again and stare at the blank ceiling. “I met him this morning,” she said as tears rolled down her cheek. 

“Oh, does he rue those days?” The light went off and plunged them into total darkness. “What chance did he stand against kismet?” 

“You there?”

A musical note

Love beyond the life

It was trapped in a long and narrow crack in the rock, flirting with the gentle wind. He bent down to tie his shoelace that untied itself in a tiring loop. He secured it this time; then raised his hand to flex some muscle. It went unnoticed, that pearl-white sheet of paper, still playing the flirt. He barely noticed it, a habit lost on that fateful night.

He took a step forward and plugged the dangling earphone bud into his ear. He continued until he heard a faint whistle from behind him, surprised. “Could be the lush green trees whistling into the soothing blue sky,” he thought, convincingly. He tapped on Ella Fitzgerald's beautiful picture — she looking into the sky, as if to jazz his mood instantly — on his glossy phone screen and whistled away to silence the nature around him. A few hums later, he realized he left his bag behind and turned around to pick it up. The rustle continued, this time louder, as the trees swayed from side to side as if to seek revenge against the wind. The blue turned grey, hastily, as a cloudburst loomed.

He walked himself towards the door. His other hand hurt as it numbed in his arm sling, pouched in seething pain. It was only about a while ago that his fingers moved to help him do his chores. Although his lonely life taught him that nothing could fracture his grit. A ghastly mishap that night, weeks ago, almost killed his will, to live and play, to love and laugh.

He pulled a key from his pouch. “Neat, this fracture has given me some safe pockets!” He shouldered his bag and locked his door, the key sliding in again, deep and safely close to his shoulder. As he stepped out, he tripped on his Trumpet and fell, thanks to his lace that went loose.

Then. It was then the sheet of paper tickled his nose. He could not let it out of his ignorant sight. He pulled it from the crack and out it came in one piece. 

“I thought I lost you on that fateful night. I knew nothing could save me. I so wanted you to live… to live and play, to love and laugh. If you ever get to read this, then I’d be the happiest one among all the fallen around me. I hope you get well soon and continue to live your passion. And please know that I will always love you…for letting me drive your car that you purchased with your hard-earned money. Forgive me, my love. Play on, please."

End note

400 days of her

He was on page #399. He had to compose a few more words to put an end to his story. His story. #400, it’d end on.

Then, he picked up a note; to cross his heart one final time.

When I began to write, I was excited. I would, for the first time to myself, get to closure. I resisted this narrative. But I was so torn from inside that nothing could fix me. Except this.

It began like a dream. I pinched myself to see it real. There were smiles and laughs and love and hope. Nothing changed.

One day, she walked out. I was oblivious to her world. I failed. To keep up with love.

I waited for her to come back.

I waited for days; a little more than thirteen months. 

On the 400th day, I gave up.

It ended there.

Light up!

In light, there's hope

"The mere sight is magnificent. It burns, but it stands for hope. Fire for desire!" he said, looking at the shining candle. "That is indeed something. What's your desire?" his friend Chloe asked. "To let the hope live," he replied.

The two friends were standing on the deck of his majestic new home, overlooking a lonely hut, lost in the faded browns and dulled blacks of the woods. "Why did you call me here?" Chloe asked him. "I wanted to tell you about that little boy who lights the lamp at his doorstep, every single day," he said. "That boy who bicycles miles to deliver my newspaper?" Chloe asked him, her left index finger pointed in the direction of the light. "Precisely, yes." 

He began, "The little boy often knocked at my door in the morning, back when I lived a few miles down the road, and smiled at me. That boyish charm! I didn't want to ask him why he did that every day."

"Then?"

"Months and years passed. He never changed. And those mornings when I didn't answer the door, he stuck the newspaper in the window sill."

"Interesting."

"Again, I never asked him why. His smile just filled me with hope. I feared that if I talked to him, he'd never come by again." 

"You never talked or wanted to talk to him while you paid him his fee?" Chloe asked, amused.

"Never. He smiled then, too. He took whatever I gave him. The one time I overpaid, he paid it back with the delivery the next morning."

"This continues till day? Wait...you moved here for him?" Chloe was lost, albeit hopefully. 

"I have nothing in this world ever since I lost my wife. I live in her memory, I live with her memory, with the hope that some day she would come back to me."

He took a deep breath and resumed.

"A couple of days ago, when this house got listed 'For Sale,' I grabbed it. She always wanted to live away from the chaos of the city, amidst nature and peace."

He continued..."I noticed that he lights this lamp at his doorstep every day. For the first time ever, I wanted to know why. I looked around, found nobody. But I noticed a little drawing on the ground where he stands his candle. It is of a woman and man, with smiles on their faces. Stick figures," he said and fell silent. He recovered from his gasp and  continued, "And that was it. It struck me. When he first delivered the newspaper to me, I was doing a painting of my wife and me holding hands, standing in the smiling-shining Sun, with a little note at the bottom, 'I miss you.'" 

The two let the coolness in the breeze fly past the emotion and the warmth fill their hearts.

"That still doesn't explain..." He cut Chloe short as she began to ask.

"Explain why he lights the candle? Maybe the drawing reminds him of...his parents...and maybe he misses them, too," he explained.

The two looked back at the brightly beaming light and breathed a moment of calm.

"Who raised him, though?" Chloe asked.

"Hope, I guess." he said.

Plagued

Fool's empty

Day 732. No response. His wait got longer and lonelier. He wished that each morning's sunshine would end his rotting hope. He would zap the edge of his bed with dulled fingers and whine his agony to nobody's concern. "Solitary confinement would be a paradise," he would remind himself.

Day 0. He tucked in his shirt and tied a perfect bow tie. He sprayed the finest perfume his wife got him on their honeymoon in Maldives. "Strong and staggering," he remarked. "Honey, are you ready yet?" he called out to his beautiful wife in the other room. When he heard no sound after a second call, he panicked. He paced to her room and found her with a book in her hand. "Baby, are you alright?" he asked.

She inhaled deeply and didn't move an emotion. He plucked her palm from the pages of the book while he felt a white flush off his own face. She remained silent and stared her moist eyes into the blurred page. His heart pumped little and he knew it was time. 

She let his hand off and closed her eyes. He walked out of the room and looked outside his window. She got up and scuffed out. She roved around until she found her next fitting step.

Many days before Day 0. Maldives. They held hands and walked on the beach. "Remember the time I rocketed a letter to you in language class?" He blushed. She began, "That was the first time you said:

Hours, minutes, and seconds.They come and go.When life with you beckons, Time would come to owe.

"I knew life's choice would be you," she ended with a blooming smile. "You expressed it like any feeling couldn't. The power of those 18 words would last forever." He treasured the moment and wished that they be lost in the hopeful brace of life.

A few days before Day 0. While she was away at work, he began to write...

It wasn't until the day when I expressed my love for her; on a piece of paper that was meant for her to read and comprehend my state of mind. I loved her deeply and imagined life's greatest pleasures as mine. Mine alone. She would be around me, love me, talk to me, listen to me, play with me, and love me more. When we're company, there's no three. A beautiful story is written with a busy mind, not a pen. A melody is sung with a fervid voice, not a tune. Love's between two souls, not any other. Life with her would be just us. There's room for none. If there's one, that would be silenced, for a hedge between us deserves to be muted. For good. My life is her.

Day 733. Solitary confinement. He stared into the sunshine and blinked at his fate.