By: Gowhar Nazir Shah Geelani
During my early childhood I had once unwittingly asked my father to explain to me the difference between a dream and reality. My courage to ask a question pleased my Dad. And the query impressed him.
Dad wanted to answer my query but my age at that time delayed the proceeding. However, he assured me to answer when I grew a little older and perhaps a little wiser too.
The time passed by. I almost forgot what I had asked my father. And that was because of my passionate involvement in cricket and studies. There were other questions to remember and take care of.
I had a strong passion for cricket, which I still nurture. But these days there is hardly any time left for me to play cricket. Otherwise I used to eat cricket, sleep cricket, drink cricket and play it too. Now, I find it really hard to steal time to play and watch the game. Other things keep me busy and going.
Only five years back, I remember, coming to home after playing an exciting final match which our team had won and I was feeling very hungry. With butterflies in my stomach, the first thing I wanted was, of course, food. Having exhausted myself to the hilt I could barely talk. But the win was responsible for the ‘feel good’ factor. My jubilation was touching the crescendo and I was feeling being on cloud nine. We had won the finals pretty decisively.
After taking some apples and bananas at home I started to feel relaxed. The relaxation was, however, short-lived. Suddenly I found myself in the tight spot when my father asked me about my individual performance in the match. He asked, “It is fine your team has won the tournament but what about your performance?” With a feeling of trepidation I replied that I scored a quick fire fifty (50 runs), belting the red cherry to all parts of the park with disdain, and also took three wickets at crucial stage of the game. With a rare smile on his face my father said, “My boy, well done!”
After this pat on my back and encouraging words for my performance from my father I was confused with myself. My confusion was the outcome of a problem I knew.
Fact of the matter was that I had actually scored a duck (nought) and was bowled on the very first delivery I had faced. Not only this, I hadn’t taken any wickets either. In cricketing terminology it was one of those bad days at the office. I was a key member of the team but on this day my performance was not of any significance. I was only part of the winning brigade.
“Oh! I lied to my father”, I said to myself. But there seemed to be no other alternative. The enthusiasm of the win died down soon. And after a yawning gap of days and weeks my father summoned me to his room, a rare occasion, and said, “My son, once during your childhood days you had asked me a question regarding the difference between a dream and reality. Today the day has come to reply your query.” Why today Dad, I asked advertently. It is the appropriate time, he replied. I turned pale and felt nervous. I had no idea whatsoever why this particular day was appropriate.
With a half smile on his face my father went on and said, “That you scored a run a ball fifty and took three wickets in the final match is a dream, and you were bowled on the very first ball you faced and didn’t take any wickets is a reality.”
Embarrassed, I felt bad about myself. But my father’s candor made me proud. And the very next day I came to know about the meeting my father had with my team skipper on the very day we had won the final. As a matter of fact, my father already had the knowledge about my performance in the match. Still he had complimented me for my “fake” performance.
I could utter only three words in favour of my Dad: “Thank you Dad”.
Dad’s candor taught me a lesson and the difference between words and deeds, saying and doing, and above all, a dream and reality.
Five years later, this dream-reality episode has struck me again. When I look at the daily press notes and statements of Kashmiri leaders who claim to represent aspirations of people of this hapless and restive region and there bundle of claims, I’m reminded of my performance in the cricket match.
Imaginary achievements of our leaders of all hues are quite in tune with my dream ‘fifty and three wickets’ and their actual performance on ground very similar to my ‘duck and no wicket’. The only difference, however, is that despite my poor performance my team had won the game but the result of the game our leaders are participating in seems regressive than their performance.
Gowhar Geelani is a Kashmiri journalist based in Bonn, Germany.
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