I Am Invincible

“And the winner is…” I heard distinctly and then the next few words were suppressed by the applause and shouts of the people. I was watching myself in the mirror and wondering how could I do the same mistake two times in a row. All the practice sessions were wasted and everything was lost just because of me. I knew no one’s gonna blame me for that but me, since I am my worst critic myself. I washed my face and came out of the washroom, collected our gear and headed up for the school bus.

This was the second straight year since I came to “The Cloud Burst” at BVN. Last year my voice cracked on one of the higher notes of “I Want It That Way” by The Backstreet Boys and this year, the cracking was repeated in “With Me” by Sum 41. Both the times, our band, Pratishodh, lost because of my failing to hit the higher notes. There seemed to be a jinx with BVN. I went for other competitions too, but my voice never failed to hit all the high notes. Lost in my train of thought, I barely replied to the others while they were talking and enjoying, as if nothing happened. I knew if I spoke much, I would eventually breakdown and I didn’t want to do that. Even when I reached home, I didn’t talk much and instantly went to bed.
The worst thing about being a judgmental bastard like me is that no one, including myself is spared from the judgments of my mind. I myself was the victim almost every time I made a mistake. And subconsciously, I used to punish myself for doing it and in a weird sense, also motivating myself to do better next time. I am often harsh on myself, and after repeating my mistake the second time this year, I just lied there on the bed thinking what the others might be thinking of me. That I talk a lot but am worth nothing? That I am a loser? That they should start searching for a new lead singer?

Music was something that I loved to be a part of. I was mostly a western singer and I never learnt Indian classical singing. I was actually a pianist. I used to take the Trinity College Of London’s piano exams every year. When we initially decided to form a band at school, we needed a singer and everyone liked the texture, accent and tone of my voice. So I became the lead singer of the band. My band mates were the typical high school music enthusiasts. They were influenced by hard rock and metal genres of music, purely because they saw that the people, who played them, were the one who came up as the winners. I was not really their type of a vocalist, but they had to do with me, since there was no better alternative. A logical part of me said that maybe my voice croaked because it’s not meant to sing the songs that I sang today. It’s not meant to sing those heavy metal songs. But then the judgmental me came up, and scolded the logical me for making excuses. The next year was going to be my last in school. I had to pull up my socks and win something this time, otherwise, in my mind, I’ll be the villain forever.

There was a particular marking scheme followed by the judges at any event that we participated in. And from experience, we figured out that extra marks were given if an original composition (OC) was performed. I used to write OCs and we performed them at the Commonwealth Games 2010 as guest performances in the Games Village too. So I picked up my pen two weeks before the next Cloud Burst and penned down an OC, which was meant to be a soft melodic song. But then again, the metal-heads of the band turned me down and asked me to write something that was either hard rock or metal. I sat with Sagar, the lead guitarist (a really talented guy) and we composed the whole song in about two days. I wrote another song, a hard rock one this time and we started practicing again. It was titled “I Am Invincible”. There was a particular part in the song, where my voice was again susceptible to crack and I found a solution for that. The other vocalist of our group, Rishi, had a tenor voice. So we figured out places where he could growl in the song to give it a more hard rock-ish feeling. I thought even if my voice cracked, we’ll have a backup to hide it. Sagar prepared some really classy guitar solos and Aniket, the drummer, put a really good beat to it.

We were all set. The doomsday came and just like the previous two years, my throat felt bad on the competition day. I had a cup of tea. Then I had another cup of tea. Still there was no relief and I was convinced that this time too, my voice is going to crack midway and we’ll be straight out of the competition. As we were watching others perform, our confidence increased since we were comparable to others this time. One of the vocalists even showed off on stage when his guitar solo came in, which was pathetic as compared to Sagar’s. We went up, took 2 minutes for sound check, and then started off. We had a tremendous start. Since this was a much pumped up hard rock OC, the whole auditorium just shouted their lungs off for us. Midway, just before Sagar’s solo, I found the vocalist(above mentioned) sitting right in front of me. I was in full confidence and I shouted to him, “Lets see who is the better guitarist now!” That led to a blank surprising stare from his side and another burst of applause from the audience. After the solo, came the susceptible part. Throughout my performance till now, this part was the only thing going inside my head. I took my breath in and sang. CREEK! My voice broke down again , though Rishi put in his growl at that instant. The judgmental me was staring at me. folding his arms and shaking his head. I had failed myself again. However, I continued till the end of the song and we ended up receiving a big applause from the audience.

 

 

We sat back in our places and I put my head down in my hands. Sagar asked me, “What happened man?” To which I could only reply, “I am sorry I let you guys down again.”

He calmly replied, “Oh you’re talking about your voice crack? It probably got hidden behind Rishi’s growl.” It seemed no one really judged me as much as myself. But his words were like hope to me. I just hoped that it wasn’t as audible as I initially thought it’d had been. I thought even if we didn’t come 1^st , at least we’d get a consolation prize from there.

The results came in. The consolation prize winners were announced. My heartbeat started racing, maybe we’d get the 2^nd runner ups. The 2^nd runner ups were announced and we weren’t there either. I lost hope and again sank my head into my hands letting out a groan of disappointment. I knew it was all my fault, that everyone else had to lose the third straight year. I was definitely going to bow out as a failure in my own eyes. “The 1^st runner ups are…. PRATISHODH” As we heard the first syllable of the name of our band, we threw back our chairs in excitement as we stood up and ran towards the stage. I still couldn’t believe it. We got our medals, had our photographs clicked with the judges and Mr. Khanna, our music teacher. Those weren’t silver medals; they were more than gold medals to us. My voice croaked and we still won. We won it as a band, where we were judged on our complete performance and not just one note of the lead vocalist. Till this time, I don’t even remember who won that year. None of us do. But I passed out of school with satisfaction. The losing jinx of BVN finally ended.

I was praised for composing the OC by everyone there, including my band mates, even though they put in more efforts than me. If Rishi’s growl, Sagar’s guitar solo or Aniket’s tight beats had been not there, maybe we’d have lost again. I realized it wasn’t just me, who was responsible for everything. I committed the same mistake three years in a row and we won the third time despite that. Maybe combined teamwork was all that we required for winning.

The judgmental me, however, held me solely responsible for the losses of the previous years.

The MVP

Class 12, the last year of school. I had been an all rounder all my life. Academics, oration, extempore, quizzes, debates, athletics, basketball, music, I was everywhere. That earned me the prestigious badge of the School Captain in my final year. I loved being the most popular guy at school. However, there were still some things that I needed to achieve before graduating.

  It was July and the time for the Zonal basketball championship. In my whole 7 years of basketball career, the closest, was to be the 1st runner ups in the championship way back in class 8. In Delhi, the ladder was to win in Zonal, then go for Inter-zonal, then state and ultimately the nationals. I couldn’t even climb the first step of that ladder in all those 7 years. This year was my last chance to get to anywhere near playing at a big level. I’ll be honest, I never considered myself to be the best player in the Zonal group, but I was there among the good ones, a little known No.14 from my school. There were other players in the zone, who were way better than me. I had my moments of magic, but somehow no one seemed to notice them. I used to get overshadowed since I started playing the game. My coach didn’t really put in any effort in me, because there was one other guy who was just a couple of inches taller than me, named Amish. He and I joined at the same time, were exactly same as far as our skills were concerned but he, just being a little taller took all the attention from me. I was not even the too short; I was a good 6 feet tall. He was taught every aspect of the game, the post game, shooting, defense, whereas I was just supposed to pass him. Nobody ever trusted me to do anything. I learnt by watching my seniors play or other professional matches on the television. I scored 20+ many times in different games, but still my coach never even said that I played well, whereas if this guy scored one bucket, he was hailed like he was God. Nobody cared if I even existed in the team if he was playing. Long story short, I became jealous of him since he stole my limelight.   He switched schools in class 11, that left only one experienced player on the team, and that was me. All my seniors had graduated from school and there was no decent player left in the lineup. We won the first match in class 11 but lost the 2nd one since I was being double teamed by the opponents throughout the game. So this time, I really, desperately wanted to win and to get recognized, at least in my zone.

I was on the court at 7 a.m. for the whole year, pleading others to come to the practices. Most of them did not. I did the best I could with the two or three people who came sometimes. I bought new sneakers. I was all geared up for this year and I had to do it this year.   I used to go for the Delhi state trials every year, but never got selected for it. Initially, I sucked, but then in the later years I used to have good trials. When I had a good trial, either the selectors ignored me, or chose a taller player to me or worse, selected an over-age player. I never understood this logic. They select an over-age player, and later on he gets banned after the medical checkup which confirms that he is overage. However, still year after year, they always selected overage players, get their teams disqualified, and then lose the national tournaments. Some players got through the trials through nepotism. They didn’t even know how to dribble the ball, and they were in the state team. That’s how basketball functions in Delhi. Skills do not matter if you’ve a good height, a muscular build, a certificate indicating your false age or some contacts among the selection committee.

The fixtures were prepared. First match, against the zonal winners of last year, on their home court. Shucks! The first match itself was going to be difficult, I presumed. Every year the zonal matches were held in Blue Bells International, but this time they were in K.R. Mangalam since the BBI court was under repairs. “Defending champions against us, I didn’t see that coming at all. With my team, they would knock us out in the first match itself.” – That should’ve been the normal, logical me thinking. This year however, what I thought was totally opposite -” I think this is my chance to prove my worth. The logical me said – “Dude you’re just being stupid!”

Anyways, so the match day approached. We were in white. The atmosphere there was a little scary. The whole court was surrounded by KRM students, supporting their team loudly. Every time, in the last 7 years, whenever I entered the court for a match, my legs used to shake and I was always a little nervous. Not this time. I confidently entered the court this time, determined to win this game.KRM were in red. They won the jump ball and quickly scored two buckets in a row. For this game I had thought that if we’ll ever be down by three buckets, I’ll drive-in and try to score, or at least get a foul out of them. However, I scored the next basket and went back to defense. They shot from behind the arc, and I couldn’t have even imagined what would have happened next. The shot missed, I jumped for the rebound, got a push from one of the other rebounders and fell on my left foot. My ankle twisted and I instantly was on the floor.

My left foot had been troubling me sometimes, but this time it was so worse that I couldn’t do anything other than closing my eyes and holding on to it tightly, lying down on the court. The next thing I heard was the referee’s whistle and people approaching me. The ref for this match was the BBI coach, who ran towards me and asked if I was fine. I couldn’t speak anything, just laid there in my agony. They helped me get up, my teammates and the ref, and took me over to my bench after lifting me a little since I couldn’t even keep my foot on the ground. I lied down on the bench and was still writhing in pain. My coach called for a spray and icepack. Such bad was my fortune the latter was not available at that time. I don’t know why, I just removed my shoe to see if it was a fracture, for which I was scolded simultaneously by me coach and referee later. I never had a fracture in life, so judging by the little knowledge I had about them, I concluded it was not a fracture and quickly wore my shoe again after applying spray to the ankle. By that time, the first quarter ended. The score was 10-4. We were losing. When my teammates came over to the bench, I guided them what they should do along with the coach. For those 2 minutes in between the quarters, I totally forgot about my ankle and suggested ways to score and defend.

The 2nd quarter started, and like the first, KRM dominated us. It all happened in front of my eyes and I could do nothing else than shout at my teammates and applause when they did something right. The “right” part wasn’t enough since we were losing, badly. I was just sitting out there thinking, that like all those years, this time also I am just a nobody after all. I thought of all the matches that I’d played and was feeling miserable to end my school career like this, by just sitting out. By this time the spray had almost numbed the pain in the ankle. The 2nd quarter ended with the score being 24-13. We were trailing by 11 points. I asked my coach to let me play. She gave me a stern look and shook her head. I pleaded her to let me play, this was my last year, and this is all I’ve got. She again shook her head. I pretended that pain was less now, and I was feeling better. And that I wouldn’t run much on the court, just shoot. There was a tear in my eye while I said all those words. The desperation to play was totally visible. She looked at me and said, “Dekh kya raha hai, ja phir aur dhang se khelio(Don’t stare at me like that. Go and play safe)!” I went to the table limping, to ask for substitution. I smiled.   The next whistle and I was in. The whole KRM crowd, the other teams waiting for their matches, the referees and even the other team, everyone was shocked to see me enter the court like that. I was trying not to limp; otherwise I’d be called off, again. The BBI referee swapped glances between me and my coach, and asked me, “Tu pakka khel paega?(You sure you can play?)” “Yes, sir”, I replied with confidence. From the thought of winning the game, it all came down to just playing the best I can right now. The ref looked at me and whistled resuming the game.   I told my teammates to pass me the ball as soon as they see me free on the court. Initially I was not guarded well, I received the ball and shot it, it went straight down to the hoop. Their coach shouted, “Usko halke mein mat le agar uske lagi hai to, khel raha hai woh tumhare sath abhi(Don’t take him easy if he’s injured, he’s still there on the court)!” And so his boys responded and guarded more closely. I limped and walked around the court during the transitions from offense to defense. I wasn’t able to do much on the defensive side, apart from the rebounding sometimes. Later on, I started getting heated up, and even blocked two shots of theirs. I could hear the “OHHH”s from the KRM crowd. By this time, one of my other coaches, Mukesh sir, who was in our school for a year, also joined my bench. He was now the Head of Department of Sports at Apeejay, Sheikh Sarai. He also in his time coached Amish and improved his game to a whole different level, while I, was just another player. There were times when only I, Amish and he were on the court for practices braving rains and cold. But still he thought that I never had enough potential as that of my teammate. He taught me only one thing and I became a master of it in the subsequent years and that was, a proper shooting action.

Emotions were high on my side. I could see nothing but the basketball and the hoop. IN! IN! IN! And I brought the score to 28-32 at the end of the 3rd quarter. I could listen to people praising me in their murmurs, but right now none of it really mattered. Now I wanted to win this game. By this time my ankle hurt like hell whenever I put even a little pressure on it, but I ignored it and went on. For the first time in my life, my coach Nair ma’am and Mukesh sir, both said, “Bhot hi badhiya khel raha hai, ankle ko bachake khelio (You’re playing too good, just make sure you don’t hurt your ankle more).”   The last quarter started, and as I entered the court, I could listen to people cheering my name, people whom I did not know, people who were from the home team’s school. I felt elated inside, but my job wasn’t done yet. I went in for a speedy layup and got a foul with it. The pain burst up again, it had overpowered the spray. I went to the free throw line and converted the one free throw. As it went in, the crowd shouted and went crazy. 32-31. From the 11 point deficit, I brought the game to just 1 point. This was one of those days where no matter from where I shoot, I had a lucky touch and it went inside the hoop. A time-out was called by the home team. Their coach scolded them, but I could feel that he had respect for me by the way he was saying, “Tumse achha to woh langda khel raha hai, aise khela jata hai(That limp’s playing better than you guys, thats how it’s played). Now just go in there and win this thing.” After the free throw, the pain was just too much for me. I reminded myself that I can’t let that affect me until the game is over. I started passing more and assisted one of the shots. I again scored a basket. One of my teammates converted the free throws he got from contact. There was one minute left and the score was 35-32. I had to keep this lead in any way possible. The other team was tired, probably didn’t practice much like my team. I had to take advantage of this. We guarded the best as possible. They took a 3-pointer and all of us held our breath for a second. It missed! I grabbed the rebound and ran as much as I could. The defender caught on to me but I beat him and jumped at the last moment. He went ahead and I took all my time to shoot. SNAP! It went in again. The crowd went crazy. I never had such a crowd supporting me like this. This time even the opponent coach smiled at me while I was returning back for defense. And there it was. The whistle blew. We won the game 37-32. What a game it was!

I limped back to my bench, then we shook hands with the referee, he smiled at me, and our opponents and each of them said “Great game.”  This BBI referee, Subhash sir, later became my coach when I joined his academy. KRM’s coach patted me on my back and said, “Well done my boy!” I came back to my bench. Mahesh sir hugged me tightly and said, “Dekhle bete, yeh fark hai tujh mein aur baaki logon mein. Chahe jitni sardi ho, baarish ho, tu hamesha practice pe hamesha aata tha, yeh nateeja hai us sab ka (See son, this is the difference between you and the others. You came to practice no matter what. This is the result of it).” My teammates hugged me and I started moving towards the washroom. I was about to witness one of the best moments of my life. There were KRM students and other school players who were waiting for their matches in front of me. They made way for me to walk, by parting on either side and shaking hands with me and clapping. It was like I was Moses and I was parting the Red Sea. Coincidently, KRM were also in red. Finally, defeated the defending champions, on their home court, in front of their own crowd! That was some feeling right there! I would’ve almost cried, but I controlled. I thought I had finally earned some respect for myself, like I was the Most Valuable Player (MVP). Then we headed back to our bus. Everyone was happy and I was just wishing that the time slows down there, letting me enjoy every single moment to the best. The first game of the season – a win.

All this time, no one, including me remembered that I had got injured in the game. I forgot that half an hour ago I was in agony. I was just enjoying the moment. I was one step closer to being the zonal champions. But that was not supposed to be. As soon as I got off the bus, there it was the pain again. And this time it was so much that I couldn’t walk. I had to be carried home by two of my friends in an auto. I couldn’t walk properly for the next 4 months. I had a plaster on my foot and it was confirmed after the MRI scan that I had a ligament rupture, which was not going to heal any sooner, since I made it worse by entering the court and playing again even after getting injured. I got to know all this in the week after. I couldn’t play the next match, and my team lost it by totally getting dominated by their opponents Pinnacle. I felt bad as my heroics couldn’t take the team further.

A week later, I limped my way to the Sports room from my class, just to see my coach and sports teacher Mr. Guru. We talked for sometime about my foot and then Mr. Guru said, “Phone aaya tha, tujhe inter-zonals aur state ke liye bula rahe the. Par maine mana kardiya tere paer ki wajah se (I got a call, the other coaches were calling you for inter-zonals and the state. But I had to refuse because of your foot).” I smiled because I did not have anything at all to reply.I walked back to my classroom. Throughout that little walking trip, I thought after all these years of hard work, dedication, they decided to identify my talent when I was not able to do anything for the next four months.

When I was active, they just ignored me. Respect and recognition were the two things that I always craved for. I was happy to get at least the respect. For a day only, but I did earn it. I never regret the decision to enter the court again and play despite being in pain. Maybe one day I’ll get the recognition as well!