Dear Shrehaan...

Dear Shrehaan,

I heard that you have decided to take a break from cricket after what happened with the team selection. I can understand why you are disappointed. When you have worked hard, performed well and believe you have earned your place, it hurts to see someone else get the opportunity, especially when you feel the decision was not entirely based on merit.

But I hope you won't allow one such decision to make a much bigger decision for you.

There is something I learnt long ago which I think is worth remembering, not just in cricket but in life: focus on the controllables. Your fitness, your bowling, your accuracy, your pace, your attitude, your discipline and how hard you practise are in your hands. Who gets selected, who has influence and what happens in a selection meeting are not. Don't give the things outside your control the power to take away something you love.

Unfortunately, you will encounter unfairness from time to time, in cricket and outside it. Sometimes someone less deserving will get an opportunity ahead of you. I am reminded of an incident involving Vinod Kambli. After a domestic season in which he had scored a mountain of runs at an excellent average, he was still left out of the Indian team. Ajit Wadekar, the West Zone selector, had assumed that Kambli's performances made his selection certain, so he proposed Sairaj Bahutule's name instead, hoping to get another West Zone player into the side. To Wadekar's surprise, Kambli was ultimately omitted. Kambli had done what was in his control, scored the runs, yet the opportunity still didn't come. Sometimes, unfortunately, that is sport, and that is life.

And then there is Pravin Tambe, whose story tells us something different. For decades he played club cricket in Mumbai without getting an opportunity at the first-class level. Most cricketers would have given up long before, but Tambe kept playing and working at his game. At 41, an age by which most professional cricketers have retired, he was picked by Rajasthan Royals and went on to make his mark in top-level T20 cricket. Rahul Dravid later spoke admiringly about Tambe's persistence and his willingness to keep working despite years without recognition. His story is a wonderful reminder that you never quite know when your opportunity will come. The important thing is to still be there, working and ready, when it does.

And please don't let your height make you doubt whether you can be a fast bowler. Ramakant Desai, one of India's finest fast bowlers of his time, stood only about 5 feet 4 inches tall and was nicknamed "Tiny". Yet he bowled with genuine pace and could trouble international batsmen with his bouncers. On his Test debut against the West Indies, he took four wickets, including those of the great Garry Sobers and Rohan Kanhai. His height did not decide what kind of bowler he could become. He did.

Your physique cannot and must not define your destiny. If it did, B. S. Chandrasekhar, whose bowling arm had been affected by childhood polio, Tiger Pataudi, who played international cricket despite severely impaired vision in one eye, and Martin Guptill, who lost three toes in an accident as a teenager, could never have achieved what they did. They adapted to what they had rather than allowing what they lacked to decide how far they could go.

Even outside cricket, Leander Paes was relatively short by the standards of top men's tennis, at about 5 feet 10 inches. Yet he became World No. 1 in doubles and had an extraordinary career for India. What he may have lacked in physical stature, he more than made up for through skill, speed, anticipation, determination and sheer competitiveness.

Sport has never been only about having the ideal physical dimensions. Your height may influence the kind of fast bowler you become, but it does not decide how good that bowler can be. Learn what works for you. Develop your strengths. Keep getting fitter, stronger and more skilful.

So take a little time if you need it. Be disappointed if you need to be. But don't quit because somebody else made a decision you couldn't control. If you eventually decide that cricket is not for you, let that decision be yours, made for the right reasons. Don't let an unfair selection make it for you.

You have already shown that you can perform. There will be setbacks, and there will be more opportunities. Keep working, keep learning and make sure that when the next opportunity comes, you are ready for it.

I am always rooting for you. We all are!

With lots of love,

Vini Mama

My Daughter Fell Sick. My Reputation Never Recovered.

In a recent blog (At the Mercy of a Six-Year-Old), I narrated how, for a week in 2017, my sister and I were left at the mercy of my 6-year-old daughter by my wife, who had to leave for our hometown to a family medical emergency. I talked about how my sister and I were tormented by Ananya. But just when the ordeal was about to get over, on the penultimate day, she fell really sick.

Ananya's sickness, and how I handled the situation, earned me a reputation. Somehow, not a positive one.

Years have gone by, and I thought that much water had flowed under the bridge. But an image shared recently on the family WhatsApp group and the reactions made it clear that my image has been tarnished for life.

I think it is extremely unfair. I will tell you exactly what happened, and you tell me whether it is fair for my family to judge me like this.

So, on the penultimate day of my wife's absence, everything happened as it had happened the entire week. I woke Ananya up in the morning, helped her get ready for school, gave her coupons for breakfast and lunch, dropped her at the bus stop, worked from home, picked her up from the bus stop after school, arranged snacks for her, and went back to finish the rest of my office work.

Though on most days I worked till late, that day I put my laptop aside around 7 PM and decided to take her to the playground in our apartment complex. It was the last day before the devil arrived, so I wanted to spend some time with Ananya.

Ananya spent an hour there, after which we came back to our flat. She went to change her clothes while I got busy with the zillions of household chores that I did not even know existed till a week before. After changing clothes, Ananya went to the living room to watch TV.

After some time, I noticed that Ananya had become awfully quiet. Never a good sign with her.

I asked if she was okay, and she nodded. I asked if she was tired and wanted to have something. She said yes to the first and no to the second.

I thought she must be tired and got busy with the work. During that entire week, everything in the house had happened smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. Because I was in-charge. I was feeling proud of myself.

After some time, I checked on Ananya once again. She was just lying there, with eyes barely open and it seemed as though there wasn't even a milligram of energy left in her body.

I immediately put everything aside and went to her. I sat beside her, like only a father can. I hugged her and asked her what was wrong. As soon as I touched her, I realized she had a fever. I could make out that it was quite high. 

I calmly but briskly walked (not ran) to the bedroom and took out the thermometer. For the first time, it was exactly where it was supposed to be. After all, the house was under my watch.

I immediately checked her temperature. I do not recall the exact reading, but I think the thermometer, without mincing any words, screamed at me that I was screwed!!

I thought of calling my wife but stopped myself because she was already attending to a family medical emergency. See, that's the hallmark of a true leader during a crisis. Never overreact. And in any case, there was very little she could have done sitting 1,600 kilometers away. In fact, there was very little she could have done sitting in the same room. Unlike me, not everyone can remain calm and composed during a crisis.

I decided that the best option was to take Ananya to her pediatrician, whose clinic was about 6 kilometers away.

I was about to grab the car keys and lift Ananya into my arms when I was reminded of my sister. She usually came home late from the office, but in case she came home early that day, she would not have the keys. Even during a crisis, I did not forget that. Another demonstration of an uncluttered mind and clarity of thought.

I called my sister and asked what time she would get home. She said it would take some time but asked why I was so politely and calmly enquiring about it. I explained the whole situation to her.

Strangely, she first asked me to calm down (!!!) and said that she would come as quickly as possible, but it would still take at least 45-60 minutes because of the distance and traffic. She suggested that I call my wife and ask what should be done. Hunh! Such a pointless suggestion.

While I knew that it was quite unnecessary, I immediately called my wife and told her everything. Strangely, she also asked me to calm down! What was wrong with both of them!

Surprisingly, my smartwatch was also saying that my heart rate was 150! Technology isn't always reliable. Thankfully, Samsung watches in 2017 did not measure stress levels, or it would have claimed that I was extremely stressed! 

Yeah right! 

Everyone and everything had gone bonkers! I, fortunately, had not.

My wife told me about a medicine that I could give Ananya and said that if the fever did not start coming down within 30-40 minutes, I should take her to the pediatrician. She was merely stating the obvious.

I had a tough time locating the medicine and called my wife a couple of times. Eventually, without much support, I managed to find it. I gave Ananya something light to eat, and after that, I gave her the medicine.

Afterwards, I monitored her temperature through touch and with the thermometer at perfectly reasonable intervals. About every five minutes.

In between, just to keep everyone updated, I called my wife, my sister, and my parents few times. I kept applying cold compresses to her forehead and neck in an attempt to bring the fever down.

The fever did not come down even after 40 minutes, but strange new symptoms started to appear.

Palpitations.

Dryness in the throat.

Uneasiness in the chest.

Difficulty breathing.

Strangely and thankfully, none of these new symptoms were experienced by the patient. They were all happening to the caregiver.

I do not know why....because I was like...calmness personified.

I called my sister and was relieved... I mean... it was good to know that she was just 10-15 minutes away. We decided that we would go to the pediatrician as soon as she arrived.

Fifteen to twenty minutes later, my sister reached home. She took stock of the situation. We checked Ananya's temperature once again. It had come down slightly but was still quite high.

The other symptoms - palpitations, dryness in the throat, uneasiness in the chest, and difficulty breathing - had increased, though.

My sister must have silently thanked God that I was there to take care of everything. Deep inside, she must have felt immensely proud of how I had handled the situation.

But, not someone who shows appreciation easily, she looked at me in a strange manner and asked me to drink some water. I did not understand that. Women can say anything. There was no time to try and comprehend all that.

She called my wife and asked her not to worry. But then she made a strange remark. While speaking to my wife, she said that she was not sure whom to take to the hospital first.

I do not know what she meant, but she probably said that to lighten the mood.

We took Ananya to the pediatrician, who also strangely asked me to calm down. Women!! She prescribed a few medicines and sent us away.

With those medicines, the fever came down. Ananya had a light dinner and went to sleep. I checked her temperature several times during the night with a non-contact infrared thermometer.

The next morning, the fever returned. We gave her medicine after a light breakfast, and the fever slowly retreated.

In the afternoon, my wife returned home, and I handed over charge to her.

On the day Ananya fell sick, I, of course, handled everything brilliantly. I did not ask for appreciation, a medal, or the Bharat Ratna, though I deserved all of them. 

Something baffles me, though.

During that period, I do not know why my watch kept alerting me that my heart rate was too high, why I kept having palpitations and all the other symptoms, why everyone kept asking me to calm down, or why my sister remarked that she was not sure whom to take to the hospital first.

Mysteries of life.

When my wife returned, my sister joked about how I had panicked, and they both laughed. It was absolutely not true, but being a magnanimous person who doesn't mind others laughing at his expense, I let it go.

But yesterday, my wife posted a picture on the family WhatsApp group (see a slightly modified version below) and asked everyone if the family in the picture was an accurate depiction of the three of us.

Everyone agreed. They said that the family was indeed like us. More specifically, they insisted that the brown bear in the background was exactly like me and how I behave in such situations.

Completely unfair, isn't it?

(Note: This is the image that my wife shared on the family WhatsApp group. I have slightly modified it by adding the names.)