THE DAY MY CHILDHOOD DIED

THE DAY MY CHILDHOOD ENDED ...

It happened at 1 o’clock on the 16^th of November 2013, in a stadium called Wankhade in the city of Mumbai. It was hot and the sun was beating down on me while I had tears flowing down my eyes. As the tears flowed, I prayed for it not to happen. But it did.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar waved and walked up the stairs to the Indian dressing room for the final time.

And that walk took away my last childhood hero.

While growing up we all have had those few people for whom we've bunked classes, stayed up late at night, fought with the world for and prayed hard that they conquer the world for us just because they were our heros.

When Micheal Jackson belted out Thriller he defined music for me. When Maradona weaved his magic on the football field, the game brought new meaning to my life. When Amitabh Bachchan tore into the villians on screen, life seemed perfect. When Boris Becker threw himself across the tennis court to return that tennis ball, I wanted to do the exact same thing. And when Sachin Tendulkar hoisted the opposition bowlers across the boundary line, the kid in me felt, I and every Indian had done the same.

These were the people that defined my childhood. My adolescent years were where their posters, their mannerisms and their deeds kept life alive. Those were the pre-satellite TV, Twitter and Facebook days when it was difficult to get news about them, see them and interact with them the way it is today. I remember saving up money so that I could buy the next Micheal Jackson album. Staying over at my Uncles house so that we could watch the Germany World cup together and get my fill of Maradona. Standing in line to buy a ticket for Hum and throw money at the screen when Amitabh Bachchan wooed Kimi Katkar with Jumma Chumma, bunk school because Sachin was batting. There was the pure unadulterated happiness that was felt when anyone of them were doing something …the joy that a child feels ..the sheer high when they won and the dejection when they lost.

And then one by one they went away; death took away some, the sportsmen stopped playing and Amitabh Bachchan the actor was no longer the hero on screen. Younger guns took over… but Sachin kept my childhood alive. He stood as the last link. Playing with the same gay abandon that he had when he was 16, the first time he became a part of my life. When he played the outside world stopped to exsist. Cheering and jumping, buying tickets for live games that I could see him as part of, celebrating his success and mourning his losses.

As life went on and adulthood brought with it its fair share of worries and the responsibilities of living, Sachin was the escape I sought when life got tough. The world was changing in so many ways around me, but Sachin remained constant ..watching him play still connected me to the days of my childhood…sitting with friends in a stadium and watching him walk on the field still made me jump with joy and become the child again. Listening to his exploits from others still make me wide eyed …he was my link to a time gone by.

And then one day I met him ….the only person after Amitabh Bachchan who left me tongue tied.

I was shooting a TV show with him that I was directing but all I managed to do was watch him gawkily; my hero had come alive in front of me. I had always made fun of others who did it but all I could say as my opening sentence to him was "Im a big fan”…yes I had done that!

He kept playing and he kept doing what he did best; wacking the bowlers and keeping the child in me happy. When he lifted the world cup in Mumbai I was there crying and laughing and hugging strangers cause my hero had done us proud. I never thought that one day he will stop playing. But it did happen in front of my eyes; he walked out to bat for the last time and played all the strokes that I had watched growing up,the square cut,the punch of the backfoot,that perfect forward defence and the drive straight down the ground. It felt like he was playing them for me, to give me the perfect images that I could store in the heart of my childhood forever.

And then he walked away.

Leaving me standing there with just memories of my childhood …will I ever be able to be the child again when I watch cricket?

Yes I will. Because all our childhood heros deserve that …they deserve the promise that we will keep the child in us alive. Watch sports with the same gay abandon, listen to music with the same gusto and enjoy cinema as if the magic will never end.

I promise Sachin that I will watch the game with the same passion as I did before, cheer as loudly and keep the memories that he has given safe somewhere in my heart.

I will not let my childhood die ….SACHIINNNN SACHIINN!!!!

I am not looking for perfection..I'm looking for real ...

It’s a discussion I am very often a part of. When my female friends, who are still single, give me their reasons for being single, how they are waiting for that perfect man to walk in, the image that they have nurtured in their head and dreams for so long, waiting to find that perfect relationship.Friends who are waiting for that perfect job to land up,frustrated in their current assignment …our constant search for the perfect life, the search for this elusive word; perfection.

A state of being that I feel doesn’t exist.

We spend most of our adult lives living a life where we chase this word...perfection. In our relationships, in our work place, in the cities that we live in, in every aspect of our life. We strive for it and get hugely disappointed when we don’t get it. Not just disappointed but also bitter and frustrated with what we have. We forget to cherish the life that we have in desire for the life, which may or may not exist…why are we so obsessed about perfection in everything that we do? Why are we so consumed by our desire for perfection that we forget to enjoy the real that is around us?

…Maybe because real can never be perfect and we have been as kids tuned to chase perfection …

I think the biggest problem in our unhappiness is our lack of acceptance of things around us. We would be much happier if since childhood we don’t strive for perfection or for the 100% in every field that we do…if parents don’t make their children feel inadequate if they are not perfect …if they are not pushed towards perfection in everything that they do or are always reminded about how life would not be fulfilled if it wasn’t perfect. If the idea of a perfect marriage wasn’t drilled into our heads, if we were just made to believe that perfect doesn’t exist…and imperfection is what we will find in the world that we will live in

One of things that I always argue about and feel strongly about is the search of perfection by men and women in their relationships. How many of us stay single but will not enjoy something that is available ‘cause its not perfect?

The question I always ask is whether getting 60% is better than getting nothing at all… or even 50%. When we see all around do we even see one perfect relationship? And what is this perfect relationship, anyway? Have we ever thought that in this wait and quest for perfection we are missing out on so many moments in life, which might be imperfect but are real and give us happiness?

Is the definition of perfection that there are no flaws or that it will not have pain? If that’s the case then we are setting ourselves up for disappointment right from the very beginning.  Everything that starts will end, everything that God has created has a flaw and pain is an emotion that cannot be avoided in life. So is it better to keep waiting for perfection or better to enjoy the imperfection? Is it better to get real and live real and enjoy the real than just wait endless for something that might not ever happen .

In our jobs and professional life too, we keep searching for that perfect place where all our professional aspirations and desires will be met. We keep looking around to find that place where we feel that what we dreamt of is going to come true… but a job is not meant to make us happy ….its meant to provide the bread and butter to our lives. How many of us choose a course while growing up or a profession ‘cause it made us happy? We chose it ‘cause it gave us security or we felt we were good at it

Or we succumbed to peer pressure or parental pressure to take up a profession and then we stay in that job despite being unhappy and feel frustrated ‘cause its not perfect or we are unhappy in it … No job is perfect …no profession for anyone is perfect. Some are mundane, some glamorous…never perfect.

Don’t let the imperfect moments of life pass you by as you stand on the wayside waiting for that perfect moment to happen...because chances are it doesn’t exist.

Enjoy and cherish the imperfections. 

Don’t look for perfect ..Just look for real.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10..and the list goes on

It’s been a while since I wrote my last blog.

Call it writers block or what you may ...but I’m finally putting down finger to keyboard. J

Many who read my blog had asked me why I haven’t been writing lately?

It had been almost two months and I asked my self, did I write because I wanted to write and was inspired to write or was it just to notch up another one?

Just add to the number that comes before  …this one is 20^th blog …or the 22^nd …I don’t frankly know how many have I written and will finally write ..and these thoughts gave birth to the  idea for this blog .

Have we made our life just a collection of numbers and is that all that drives us? Have we become slaves of the numbers game? Has everything else stopped mattering and life has just become about the next number?

If one was to go back to our childhood, our obsession with numbers started from a very nascent stage. Starting with our obsession to come 1^st in class, in the debate competition or in the race that was happening on sports day. We were judged by our number or rank not by how well we had done, or whether we were happy just to be part of a race. It all came down to the number we achieved. Our exam results were all about ranks, our competition was always about the number that we finished at and since then our obsession with numbers has continued.

When do you remember in school anyone asking after your result “How did you do?” It was always, “What rank did you finish at?”

And since then numbers have been all around us; How many cars do we have? How many clothes do we own? How many promotions have we got? How much money we make? How many followers on twitter? How many friends on Facebook? Has a film earned 100 crores or not? It’s just about numbers. Our entire professional life is a function of achieving targets and setting new ones. Is there something more than that we look at? Satisfaction? Anything for the soul? And after a point does anyone even remember the numbers any more? Or do they become a blur? Its like driving a car on an empty highway and just looking at the numbers that pass by on every milestone, clocking them on an endless road with just numbers to mark our journey. Nothing else.

When did it become important to finish first in something that you do and why is it important to keep adding the numbers to our lives?

People ask me when am I going to make my next film.

Frankly I don’t know.

Will I make it to add one more to the list? So by now I have made 2 films ..after a while 3 ..then 5 …or should I make it only when I am inspired enough to do it. Should our life be about being inspired to take the next step or just a rush to notch up one more?

It’s been almost 17 years since I started working and if I look back, all I can see is a blur of things that I have done; running the race to notch up the numbers and questioning; Till when will the numbers matter and when will it be enough?

 Numbers are for calculators and for excel sheets. They should have no position in one’s life. Bank balances and the number that we have there should stop being the barometer of our life. Just taking the next step ahead to increase the number of steps that we have taken should stop being the only reason to walk.

We all come at a stage on our lives when these numbers overwhelm us and we feel that life should have more than just a collection of numbers. Maybe I have reached that stage, where numbers have become a blur …and I don’t feel like adding to those numbers.

I may not finish first in life …but it doesn’t really matter any more ….

BEING A FATHER...

She was just a month old when I first met her and she didn’t even have a name yet. So I called her Zara and that’s because I wanted to name her Zara,but her mother overruled me and named her Ayat .She is my niece just born to my younger brother. Zara is just now 4 months old but I have plans for the rest of her life; about how I want to spoil her rotten, how she will be the princess in Disney land and I will buy her every outfit that she will ever wear 

for the rest of her life, what she will be doing on her 18^th Birthday. Details are still being planned out but I do have a broad plan in mind. Her favorite football club will be Manchester United ,She will love cooking ,she will travel the world and almost everything else too . So Ayat is going to be one spoilt child and nothing will be off the table for her.

And then there is Arsh, my younger brother’s son. He is 5 years old and he calls me “Bade Papa”. Arsh is a name I gave him and that is what he was called. He is also the apple of my eye. He’s already a Manchester United fan and loves football and cricket, both of which are indulged by me. He took his first unaccompanied trip out of Bangalore at the age of 5 and that was to spend a week with me here and if it wasn’t for him, I don’t think I would have gone to see the Avengers first day first show to the theatres or even gone to see Madagascar 3 at all. He is my “call-when-feeling-low” friend and has this knack of making me feel better with his innocence. He has the ability to make life’s problems seem small when compared to his problem. I mean how can any problem be bigger than him not being to play on his PS3 as he still has to finish his homework?!

My cousin sister has two daughters, Tavishi and Arohi. Tavishi is 9 and Arohi is 6 and both think I am a rock star! They live in Delhi and for them Samar Mama is a rock star who works in the film industry and comes to Delhi once in a while with tales of the film world and autographs of Hrithik Roshan or Ranbir Kapoor or whoever is the flavor of the month. For me they will drop everything and anything and come stay with me . Spend a day with Samar Mama because I am their Santa Claus and they my two princesses. Tavishi has a boyfriend who is her latest obsession and only Mom and Samar Mama know about him. So for any advice on men, I am the man to turn to.

Ameya is 18 years old, my younger Mamas daughter and the youngest of my cousins. For my 40^th birthday she made a website dedicated to me and got my friends and family to record messages for me on that. She is someone who has grown up in front of my eyes; from her first crush to her latest heartbreak. I have seen her through all that.

She was devastated when I got divorced and didn’t understand it. Hated me for a long time until one day understood what had happened and forgave me. I am her best friend who she can confide her problems in whenever she needs a perspective about life without the fear of being judged. She knows I’m here.

Ayaaz is 30 and married but as my youngest brother, I have seen him though school and college, bought him his first cigarette, had a drink with him and got drunk with him, swore in front of him and got him married off. He is today after so many years someone I can confide in and allow him to buy me gifts. Almost like you allow your son to buy you gifts one day when he finally grows up.

Alishka is Anita’s daughter who is my Rakhi sister. Alishka is 28 years old today and I know her since she was 11; another kid who has grown up in front of me. Her greatest fear is me embarrassing her in public with my antics, which I must admit, I do quite regularly. She hides her boyfriends from me as I feel no one is good enough for her and also make them go through the third degree. She is an adult now but for me, she is still the 11 year old who needs to be protected from the world.

It’s been almost 11 years since I got divorced and the questions always asked have been; why don’t you get married again? Why don’t you want to have kids? Don’t you feel the urge to be a father? I don’t have one single reason for that, I just gave you 7 J