Oscar-Winning Speeches and Vultures in a Desert

Okay, so this one has no point. None whatsoever. Its more on the lines of a rant slash vent. So bear with me.

This morning, as my brother excitedly discussed the buying of this year's batch of Diwali fireworks with my dad, I decided to butt in. Its become quite an expected thing these days. My butting in, I mean. And its also not the most popular thing in my family's life either. For several reasons. One of which is that everything I seem to say is either considered too 'Americanised' or too 'quintessentially teenage-ish'. Neither of which I can totally deny. But the accusation both of which can hurt pretty badly. 

Anyway, so back to this morning. And back to the excited brother and my unwanted butt. 

"Why don't we boycott crackers this Diwali?", I said, pretty excitedly, quite sure I'd be greeted with a chance to elaborate, in the least.

"Noooooo!" wailed my brother, turning to my father with a piteous expression. I swear, the onlookers must have thought I'd asked him to give up his life for the sake of a hobbit. Or sacrifice his entire chest of clothes for charity. Or give up his dream of buying the X-BOX 360. 

"But Shashwat..." I started in my sweetest voice (My mom's always told me that I know which 'voice' to put on if I want to get him to do something- something which, naturally, I'm accused of using only to meet selfish interests- a trait which, again, typifies my 'evil didi' image)

"No didi", he said firmly (and I kinda chuckled. This would be a great case in point for my next argument with mum. But of course she wasn't there when she was most needed!). He continued, a little more desperate this time, switching to wails, "But all my friends are gonna burst crackers!"

"But Shashu, if we abstain this time, it might cause less pollution no!" I persisted.

"No!" And he started looking to my father- who had been silently enjoying our tussle so far- for support.

Being put under the limelight, he chose to go the diplomatic way. "We can think of doing something different this time na?" he said, looking at his son who obviously seemed not to agree.

"Think of it Shashwat" I said, trying to not lose my nerve, and also realising that the conversation had to end coz we'd come to the end of the stairs and had to head our separate ways for the morning.

He pretended not to hear and strutted off.

Eventually, all was forgotten until the afternoon. In the middle of another conversation he was having with dad about when to head out to buy the fireworks, my (in)famous butt landed right in.

"But Shashwat, you still wanna buy them?!" I was genuinely disappointed. I'd recently started thinking of my brother as an equal, trusting him to understand what I was saying. And nine times out of ten, he lived up to it.

This obviously wasn't among those nine though, as I was beginning to realise.

Yet, not one to be outdone, I continued, "Look, we all talk about pollution and global warming and stuff. And how each of us has a role to play in the deterioration of the Earth and it's climate. And then if you go ahead and consciously buy crackers, knowing what it'll do to the environment, knowing what harm you're causing, isn't that being hypocritical?" I ended with a flair- feeling proud of myself. I mean, Al Gore's got an Oscar for that kinda stuff. 

I was just about preparing my Oscar-winning speech when I realised the words had sunk in as much into my brother as water would into a duck that's been rubbed with candles all night. Nil. Zilch. Zero.

And the famous Sulk was back again. You know how paranoid Gujju's shut their doors during the Gujarat riots so that not a mosquito could find its way inside their homes? Well, Shashwat has implemented the model on a smaller scale- his body. The senses just shut- so that nothing goes in, and none can come out.

And suddenly, I felt like an injured soldier in an endless desert, all too easy for the vultures to spot. And they were on the attack right away.

"Just leave him alone!" My mother said in an angry whisper.

"Abba! She's really cornering him ya!" My aunt joked.

I turned to the last vulture with a yes-now-what-do-you-have-left-to-say look. "I didn't say anything. It was purely the observation of the onlookers!" My dad said with a smirk. Translated, it meant, I told you- everyone agrees you're too full of yourself!

The Sulk had worked again. Great. Just great.

So I walked out (like there was anything left to do!). Slamming the door on my way into the room and burying myself in my pillows. Where did you think the Sulk actually originated?!

A number of thoughts raced through my mind as my whole "I'm out to save the world" theme had found zilch supporters. 

How can I change the world if I can't even convince my family to do something so miniscule? How can the world be saved if a bunch of educated individuals can't be rational and see sense? my emotions went into overdrive, as my eyes started welling up.

And the theme smoothly shifted to another This is what happens when anyone my age tries to do anything- we're brushed away as pretentious teenagers who don't know what they're talking about! How can people underestimate the power of youth? How can they underestimate our intellect or even our concern for our world? the flood of questions continued as did the tears, self-pity taking over me.

Its been an hour since it all happened. And I realised I kinda ignored one small fact. Shashwat is a fourteen-year-old. And I don't think a fourteen-year-old me was too different.

Oh well, another day then for them Oscar winning speeches! ;)

PS: This is the reason I think The creator of Calvin is absolutely brilliant:

14th of April 2007

It was just one of those days that you come to recognise for its value only as the years that roll by. One of those days when you are completely unaware of the fact that you're being a part of something that you'll quote for the rest of your life. Just one of those days.
Barack Obama. It was a name that had come to be associated with a guy who had the audacity to hope. The audacity to hope that people would ignore the colour of his skin, the missing pages in his resume and the sheer audacity of his dream. The audacity to hope that people could look straight into his heart and see a guy who wanted to change the world for the better- and share his belief that he could.

But it ended at that. At least that's what it seemed at that time to a bunch of teenagers who trooped off to hear him speak at a pep rally in Atlanta. To us, he was just one of those flashes of brilliance and daring that one sees every once in a while- only to vanish into oblivion as fast as they emerge.

However, as we stood in that crowd, we too- for a moment- fell under the 'Obama spell'. For that hour and a half- as he talked about the solutions to the problems we face, the Iraq war, the middle east crisis and everything else that made the road ahead seem gloomy and impossible- he made us all believe that this world was wonderful, and that it would be even more wonderful if there were more of his kind out there. He drew us into his speech in such a way that every one of those three-thousand odd people probably felt he was talking directly to them. And what can be more of a testimony to the effectiveness of this spell than that an Indian exchange student, with no interest in politics whatsoever- and with minimum concern for who'd rule an alien country, fell victim to it?

As I came back to India and a few months passed, I realised I wasn't the only one without immunity to this spell. The world was smitten. Obama had emerged nearly a demi-God, getting rock-star like welcomes wherever he set foot domestically and internationally. He had almost become a phenomenon- and his speeches more than lived upto his image. And I increasingly realised that I'd had an opportunity to soak into this phenomena just as it started- to listen to the voice that had revived hope in an increasingly pessimistic world.

Now, as the US Presidential Race moves towards its final lap before the elections in November, the eyes of the entire world are on Washington D.C. As we increasingly realize the significance of this particular election in the way the whole world will be affected, it is obvious that there is more at stake than we would wish on the choice of a population that kept George Bush in office for eight straight years.

On the outside, the two candidates- John McCain and Barack Obama- are as different as they can be. John McCain- the Republican candidate- is the old warhorse, the Vietnam war veteran who has seen it all, done it all- the heavyweight in affairs of foreign policy and economy. Barack Obama- the Democratic candidate- is considered a total outsider to the White House, a charismatic face that has risen from the crowds to capture their imagination- the man whose campaign has singularly run on two words- hope and change. The two, therefore, present a very obvious choice for the voters- tradition versus change, experience versus fresh optimism, age versus youth, age-old beliefs versus hope.

But that is not what the real questions are. The real question is- and will remain, “Who is the right man for the job of running the world’s most powerful- but also, arguably, the world’s most hated- country today?”

And Barack Hussein Obama, in my opinion, is the man for the moment. Not just because he has endeared himself to America despite his middle and last names having undeniable resemblances to two of the country’s biggest enemies. Not just because in a country still bound by the shackles of racism-- he has forced people to look beyond his colour. Not just because, as he goes around the world, the overwhelming love and support he gets has made him the unofficial candidate of the world. Not just because his leadership is probably the only way the US can mend its broken image around the world. Not just because he has enthused a significant percentage of the youth to come out and vote- to come out and show that they care. Not just because he is a melting pot of various cultures- African, Hawaiian, Filipino, Mexican- a symbol of the very thing the USA prides itself on. Not just because he is one of the greatest orators I have had the opportunity to hear. Not just because his popularity is comparable to one of America’s ultimate sweethearts- J. F. Kennedy. Not just because- in a world plunged in despair- he arouses a near-forgotten optimism.

Not just because of all that. But because he is- and will remain- the correct answer.

:D

This is a year and 10 days late. Only. ;)

http://usinfo.state.gov/xarchives/display.html?p=washfile-english&y=2007&m=July&x=20070702131828berehellek0.4676325

PS: An attempt to keep my blog from dying a slow death.

PPS: A new blog entry is under construction. I promise!

An Unexpected Romance...

Had written this one a long long while ago. More than a year has passed infact. It surprises me how the way you feel about some things never changes...


When I first walked into my speech/forensics class, a week into my introduction to Grady High School, my first instinct was to walk right back out! Everyone in the class seemed to be so sure of themselves- so confident, so self-assured, and knowing exactly what they were doing. And to someone who was so new to the country and school- and had no idea what was going on, it was extremely intimidating. I felt like a total misfit right away… And though I thought the teacher- Mr. Herrera- was extremely nice and helpful (he even knew how to say my name- thanks to a famous Indian author I share my name with!), I had no idea what the expectations of a competitive speech and debate class were- and frankly, I was too intimidated to even want to know!

And to add to my misery, I learnt that as a part of the class, we were required to compete in a minimum of three speech/debate tournaments per semester. To the others- who had been doing this since middle school, or at least since their freshmen year in high school, this was common place- but for an exchange student, it was just terrifying- and regardless to say, I completely freaked out! As I hesitantly approached Mr. Herrera to ask about what I really needed to do, and what was expected of me- he smiled and handed me a list of all the events I could do. As I started down the long list of big names and confusing rules that made no sense whatsoever, I realized this had done nothing to soothe my nerves, and if anything, had just added to the confusion.

Noticing the horrified look on my face, Mr. Herrera came up to me and asked if I needed to talk about it- and I gladly accepted. At the end of the two-hour long “talk”, I was actually feeling a lot better. He had suggested I do an event called ‘Original Oratory’- a basic 10min speech on a topic of my choice. Simple as it sounded though, I had no idea where or how to start! I had been told to think about what I could speak very passionately- and the only thing I could think of was ‘the unfairness of forcing an exchange student into doing something they really don’t want’!

As I was still clueless about what I was doing, and was running around trying to avoid the thoughts of helplessness and clueless ness everyday, I started dreading the days I had the debate class, knowing fully well that I wasn’t ready for what needed to be done- since all we did in the class was to prepare for competition. However, I soon realized that shirking my work wasn’t doing me any good, and I was just putting off the inevitable- and that my best bet would be to get on the act as soon as possible- after all, I told myself, I had nothing to lose!

So I did get on the act- I did what Mr. Herrera told me to- and started writing a speech on a topic I decided I felt very strongly about- altruism. It took me a couple of weeks to hand in my first draft, and I was very nervous doing so- not knowing how people would react to it. But as I walked down the hall that day, a senior on the team- Ramika (who also does the same event)- came up to me and said had chanced upon my draft when she was in Mr. Herrera’s room, and she loved it! It was just one of those moments you wish you could hold on to forever…. 

But soon enough, it was time for my first tournament. As it had only been a day since I finished writing the complete speech, I was told I could read off my script. As we started for the tournament, I realized this was what I had been avoiding for the past three months- and somehow- it just didn’t seem all that bad anymore. As I went from round to round, I felt myself feeling more and more at ease- until finally- I decided I was actually enjoying myself! By the end of the next day, I was feeling so much a part of the team already- and although I didn’t do very well (and didn’t ‘break’ to the final round)- cheering for my team members at the awards ceremony gave me a high of unimaginable proportions. And I realized, that for the first time in the last three months, I had been ‘myself’ both days- and had enjoyed every moment of it!

Little was I to know, that this was the beginning of a great romance- with competitive speech and debate, and more importantly, my debate team. As I went to my next two required tournaments for the semester- both in remote Georgia districts- I found myself falling in love with the very feeling of being a part of a team- staying back after school for practice, sharing inside jokes, pepping each other up before rounds, hogging food like nobody’s business, spending hours on end talking about our one common passion- speech and debate; and, most importantly, having real ‘friends’ for the first time since I landed in Atlanta.

And all along, without even realizing it, I started gaining more and more success with each tournament, and by the end of the semester, I had even managed a first place at a tournament!

One of the peaks of this relationship was when I got to travel to the University of New Mexico on my birthday in early January this year. By now, all my best friends were on the debate team, and spending my special day with all my favorite people- including my wonderful coach- was just the most wonderful thing I could have hoped for! And the beautiful snow, the delicious Mexican dinner and the extra special hugs were just an icing on the cake (quite literally)!

But the best moment yet, is still fresh in my mind like it was just yesterday- just a few weeks ago, I qualified for NFL (National Forensics League) Nationals in Original Oratory- an extremely prestigious honor. And just when I thought the feeling couldn’t be topped, just a couple of weekends ago- I placed first at the state tournament- and the feeling of being state champion for Georgia is still something that I’m coming to terms with… But amongst it all, I think the moment that really stands out for me, is when all my competitors came up to me later, gave me hugs, and told me that if there was someone who really deserved everything- it was me. Regardless to say, I was overwhelmed by the love and belief everyone seemed to have in me. I decided one couldn’t get any luckier- and that is a moment that’ll stay with me forever. And ever.

And now, as I sit here and think, I realize the debate team has given me much more than those numerous certificates and trophies. It has given me much more than colleagues, teammates and competitors. It has given me much more than a coach for speech and debate…

In the trophies and certificates- its given me the ability to believe in myself- to believe I can do the seemingly impossible, to believe I can be the best- Its helped my self-worth go up several notches. In the teammates and competitors- its given me friends for life- people who genuinely know me, understand me, accept me and love me for who I really am- people who are genuinely happy for my success, because they’re the ones who’ve helped shape it. In my debate coach- Its given me my friend, philosopher, guide- my confidante and my harshest critic- A person who takes fatherly pride in each of my achievements, and who wants me to be the best I can be, and more importantly, the happiest I can be. Someone who’s seen me evolve from day one on the exchange program, and probably the one who knows and understands me best of all.

But above all, being a part of the team has given me my own niche- my own unique identity. In the world of blurring faces and images- it’s given me my own world- a world where I’m accepted, respected and loved. A world where I do not have to conform to feel a part of the crowd, a world where I can be me.

Now, my world is the long unending after school practices, the wonderful feeling of letting my guard down and being myself, of assuring smiles and warm hugs, of protective glances and heart-to-heart talks, of loud music and crazy dancing, of giggling until the jaws hurt, of giving and feeling the love, but most of all, of being a part of a family- my debate family…

A few weeks ago, as I talked to my coach and told him how many wonderful things the debate team means to me, he said, “It was just one of those strange things that happened- you being put into that class- its not common for exchange students to be put into any kind of such advanced competitive classes. But I guess, it was all for the better…” And I couldn’t agree more.

And to think, the first thing I wanted to do was run away from it!

A Round-Up of S(p)orts

In the history of world sport, the start of year 2008 will go down as a phase where youth, aggression, controversy, confidence, power, money and raw talent took center-stage as age-old champions were dethroned, gentlemanliness was thrown out of the dictionary, sledging became an 'art', heroes emerged from the most unlikely corners, and experience was bid farewell. And all the action seemed to be happening in the sport-loving country of Australia...

India's Cricket Tour Down Under will probably go down as one of the most talked and written about events in sporting history. For youngsters and next-generation champions like Ishant Sharma, Gautam Gambhir, Rohit Sharma and Robin Uthappa- it was a coming-of-age series. They will go back as battle-hardy men, having come as untested boys. But, unfortunately, the series is one that the cricket world will want to set aside as a dark memory that is best forgotten- despite there having been some truly memorable and riveting cricket that was played. Because what happened before and after got more attention than when a batsman took guard. The lines between agression and ugliness blurred considerably, as players hurled abuses at each other faster than Lee's most stinging deliveries. As a result, the cricketing world and the two countries were divided over twenty-two men, as the insults got even uglier and more personal. I run out of adjectives trying to explain just how disappointing it is to see seemingly mature men using phrases like 'monkey'(arguably!), and 'obnoxious little weed' for each other. Are these the same men we have grown to god-worship?! At the end of the day, it was the so-called 'gentlemen's game' that lost. Rather poorly.

On the other hand, Sourav Ganguly was bid an unceremonious farewell from the ODI team- after enjoying one of the best form-runs of his life. Dhoni's insistance for youth makes sense, but does a senior who has served the country so long and well not deserve even a warning before being dropped like a hot potato?

On the tennis front too, there were no dearth of controversies. Sania Mirza whipped up a storm when she opted out of the Bangalore Open- rather ironically, "to stay out of controversies", while Leander Paes' captaincy of the Davis Cup team wasn't taken too well by the youngsters- and turned into an ugly, immature public spat- lapped up with relish by the gossip-loving media. The Australian Open saw eventual-champion Maria Sharapova's infamous father, Yuri, making a throat-cutting gesture after his daughter's convincing upset win over world no. 1, Justin Henin. And one wondered where the profesionalism was gone...

But there were the truly memorable and feel-good moments as well...

The rise of the young Ishant 'Lambu' Sharma from a first-chance rookie to the lynchpin of the new-face Indian pace attack.

Indian getting the better of Australia in their own home fort- Perth- beating them at their own game on a bouncy, pacey wicket with a bowling attack that was younger than their youngest bowler- and that was without their two spearheads- Zaheer Khan and R.P. Singh.

The rise of Jo-Wilfred Tsonga- the unseeded Frenchman who notched up several upsets to reach the finals of the Australian Open- leap-frogging over everyone else on the popularity charts with his Mohammad Ali-looks, infectiously ready smile, calm temerament and booming serves.

The little master- Sachin Tendulkar- getting a standing ovation from Aussie crowds wherever he went, everytime he walked on or off the ground- whether he was on a duck or a century- a heartwarming display of affection and respect for a true gentleman who has enthralled the entire world with his willow for 18 long years- and who still steps onto the field with the enthusiasm of a sixteen-year-old.

The emergence of the Serbian tennis players- Ivanovic, Jankovic, Djokovic, and Tipsarvic- from politially turbulant childhoods with scanty resources, to come out to challenge and be some of the best and most loved players the game has known.

The farewell to Adam Gilchrist- a man who will be missed by cricketers the world over for being a truly delightful batsman and wicket-keeper, but- more importantly- for being one of the few who was left in the dying breed of perfect gentlemen.

The fact that the Australian Open finals this year had neither a Nadal or a Federer- for the first time in a record ten major fianls! Yet another story of the champions' throne being threatened by determined, fearless young blood.

When Novak Djokovic got up on the podium to give his 'thank you' speech though, the 21-year-old spoke with the kind of maturity, grace and sense of humor you thought all sportsmen had lost in this era of aggressiveness. "Even if Tsonga was standing up here, it wouldn't be undeserved. He was amazing all though the tournament" He said, mincing no words in praising his opponent, "I know you guys (the crowd) wanted him to win. No, no, its okay. I still love you all!" He added with his charming smile- winning over all the hearts he hadn't already. And restoring hope that there still was high value placed on 'nice'ness :)

But undoubtedly, the most radical event in the recent scheme of world sport was the forming of the Indian Premier League. The auctioning of the international players was given phenomenal media coverage, and it threw up more surprises than one could digest. To think that an Uthappa or a Raina or even a Yusuf Pathan would fetch way more that a Hayden, McGrath, or a Ponting tells a story of a hug turn-around. As cricket is moving into the big-money league with soccer, and American basketball, one wonders if the average Indian fan will be able to digest the concept of supporting a team, and not individual players. Will we be able to pray for a Symonds to hit a Bhajji out of the park? Or for a Lee to rattle Tendulkar's stumps first up? For an Indian cricket fan to whom cricket is more of a religion, and cricketers more of demi-Gods, how hard will it be to look beyond the names and enjoy the game? It will certainly take a while. But one hopes that the big money and the fame are by-products of some good, solid cricket, instead of the other way round.

After all, at the end of the day- as cliched as it sounds- we want the sport to win, don't we? :)