Sunday, January 20, 2008

The We of sport

Written after the first flush of victory had dissolved into a dazed dense inward high. Hence the slightly drunk quality.

To be a pixel in a picture, stardust in a galaxy, synapse in a body, one of a billion cricket fans!

Not the banding arms of jingoists scavenging the ephemeral dust of human joy and despair, seeking to raise the spectre of a forced national identity, propped against a manufactured enemy – No, not that! Nor even material for the heart-high fences raised by the parasitic media in a bid to create more consumable identities. It is not to establish, or know, but to sense through the ether of sublimated emotion, that for the space of some moments there is more out there being exactly like me.

These individual lives we live, each of us born to life in an apparently unique point in a time-space, forging our way through a million milestones of resistance straining for independence from the blackhole of universality, for an identity, for a voice, for separation – to me always a little puzzling; on days like these, unfathomable.

Too much drama about a trivial thing, do you think? Should I be saving the rhetoric for a large tragedy or a private one? For societal revolution?

But only the most sublime artistic temperament can find in great grief the detachment required to truly find the quivering life of it. The lesser people need a device of distance, the obvious ploy of playacting to help be both within and without a moment. To us – the ordinary people – give us sport. In sport, through the ardency, the anguish, the allurement, the elation, there is always a subliminal cognition of its fantastical nature, of its being removed from the real and the core. This luxury of distance affords us the opportunity to vibrate at a comfortable pitch. Sport can make a world resonate in fine-tuned orchestra of a million minds; it is altogether breathtaking music.


deewaan said...

Wow! Don't know if any among the 'more out there being exactly like you' could have put it in exactly these dizzying words...but have to agree entirely!!

And if only young Sania had managed to pull off a surprise, or even carried off just that one tie-breaker, the 'fine-tuned orchestra' on Saturday would have been even more dulcet, nahin?

Shweta said...

God! Yes! But she was spunky wasn't she? Awesome first set.
In fact it was our man the 'Fedroid' who gave us the worst moments of the day. One almost thought that the upstartish Tipsarevic would cause a silly upset.
I have never seen the great man look more irritable or human. But when he won after all that, I had began to think that perhaps it was that sort of day and nurture fresh hopes.