Humanity

Yesterday, on my way to office, I saw a bike hit a sedan lightly from behind. The person on the bike got unbalanced and fell right in between my car and the road divider. Thankfully, my car was not speeding because of a red light ahead. Then my eyes fell on the bike rider lying on the busy road, a man in his late fifties, unassuming, who was struggling to get up in the scorching heat, trying to put his helmet and specs right back with his shivering hands. He looked embarrassed and hurt. He got up, steadied the bike handle and was caressing his knees with his hand when out comes the driver of the swanky car. A tall broad immaculately dressed woman pointing her perfectly manicured hands at the elderly and screaming about the damage done to the car, which was minuscule compared to the harm inflicted on this man’s body and confidence.

He looked helpless in front of the richie rich. Desperately wanting to get away to continue his job which he had to I guess for his living, he started pleading the woman for forgiveness. The female, throwing her might around, bounced off some English slangs and started giving him driving tips along with threats. It was a funny sight, watching someone who was half the age of the other, reprimanding.

The signal then turned green and my car started moving. A part of me wanted to stay back and watch the scene. Later, recalling the episode, I was angry with myself for not stopping then and taking the poor man’s side. People think am courageous, but I realized I have a long way to go before the word can be used an adjective for me. I wondered does being rich also make you blind to other’s plight. The owner of the car must be earning at least ten times of the old fellow’s salary. Yet she had to create a scene. For all you know, the hit might not have been a driving mistake but maybe because the rider was exhausted from the sun and might have gotten tired or sick or some other health issue.

Despite having booming NGO services and corporate social responsibilities these days, it is sad to see people still lacking the basic humanity when their actions are not being recorded for tax benefits or they are not being photographed. Such a two-faced world we live in! A higher standard of living should also make you empathize with the not so privileged ones. Like spiderman's uncle said: with great power come great responsibilities. As for me, I hope I do not think twice before taking the right side next time. I may not be able to give the financial support but I can definitely give the moral support and fight for the right cause! Its just not me, but I ask each one of you to keep an open eye and help wherever you can. Trust me; the satisfaction that one derives by helping others is unmatched to any comfort that money can buy!

Kiss

A kiss is not just an act of touching of lips, it’s an art. Those few seconds can translate into hours, reaching into the depths of heaven and covering every corner of the most sensual part of the face.  Licking and sucking like one savors the last drop of chocolate. It is indeed no surprise that eating a chocolate is considered seductive sometimes if done with the right amount of tongue!

Sex is over hyped and kiss is under hyped. You never kiss someone just for the sake of it unless it’s a means to an end. It’s a complete surrender of one’s being, letting out your feelings, gushed with urgency at times and a slow lingering enjoyment at other times. Sex might be the ultimate crescendo, but it’s the beautiful path that heralds it, kiss being the first lovely step.

Kiss is a feeling of psychedelic inebriation where you lose out on your senses and get pulled into a timeless space of undiscovered tremors and unbridled joy. So stop wasting your time and start kissing all the way!

Book Review: Open

Amongst all the autobiographies that I have read so far, the one that I would love to go back and read again is the life story of Andre Agassi written in his own words. This book is a brutally honest account of his life events bordering to the point of self criticism.

It will come as a shock to many when they read through the book is the bittersweet relationship Andre shared with tennis. It is ironical to discover that the tennis champ actually hated tennis at one point in time, not the game in itself but the pressure and the expectations that it brought along literally crushing him. The scenes where he describes how his father pushes him for vigorous practices against his will and the father wanting to live his dream through him are moving and one that almost each one of us can relate to considering the competitive world we are living in.

The book also talks about his relationship with his wife Brooke Shields, the supermodel of that time, the divorce and then his marriage with Steffi Graff. The revolutionary fashion sense he brought into the game, starting from his hairstyles to the jeans shorts that he used to wear to the court and the infamous drug scandal he was in are some other spicy add ons.

The above are just some of the interesting instances; the book itself is a page-turner. Apart from his personal conflicts and dilemmas, the matches that he has described in the book are sure to arouse interest in any sports fan. Whether it is the second Grand Slam semi final in 1990 against Boris Becker or the final against Pete Sampras, his greatest nemesis, each match has been illustrated with so much detail that one will almost feel as if watching it from the stands. The rivalry between these two American players became the dominant rivalry in tennis over the rest of the decade.

The book gives an interesting insight into a sport person’s life. Not only is it a fascinating read but it also can act as a guide to live life. The courage, determination and the bold demeanour that Andre puts on is commendable. Few quotes from the book that are my personal favourites:

“It's no accident, I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it's all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It's our choice.”

“Now that I've won a slam, I know something very few people on earth are permitted to know. A win doesn't feel as good as a loss feels bad, and the good feeling doesn't last long as the bad. Not even close.”

“Hate brings me to my knees, love gets me on my feet.”

If this book can instil interest in tennis in a non-sports person like me, I am sure it will be a much more enjoyable ride for an ardent sports follower. Thanks to the book, now I follow tennis, football and badminton with a lot of enthusiasm. I hope it will be a secret between us, when I confess that the only reason I picked this book up to read was to know about the affair of Andre with Brooke and Steffi (don’t blame me, in the end, I am a woman!) and look where it has brought me to ;)