Kabaddi, kirtan and knock-on
A fallen kabaddi champion picks himself up after listening to a kirtan
Scene 1
Kamlesh - a 22 year old stout man is on cloud nine. The crowds are chanting his name, his team-mates are hugging him and then one of them hoists him on the shoulders and within seconds, they take him around the arena for a victory lap.
Kamlesh and his Paltan has just won the Kabaddi State championship held in Kolhapur and Kamlesh has led his team from the front. He is adjudged the player of the tournament. Within weeks, he becomes the hero in his quaint village Kolgaon. He is called to schools for sports events, political parties felicitate him and offer him ticket for the upcoming election. Local businessmen put up his name on banners to promote their products. Young boys idolize him and his parents are hounded by matches for marriage. His parents - Santaji and Janabai are beaming with pride.
Kamlesh is living his childhood dream of making it to the top. Soon, he splurges on a fancy bike and expands his modest house into a three-floor villa.
Scene 2
With head in his hands, Kamlesh is sitting dejected by the riverbank on the outskirts of Kolgaon. An injury to his thigh had forced him on the sidelines for the better part of six months. He had worked hard to recover and practiced rigorously, but he did not cut it in the medical fitness test.
He was not picked for the upcoming tournament. A celebrated captain just a year ago, he was now not even in the squad. The team progressed well but lost out in the elimination round. Kamlesh blamed himself for not making it, he knew he could have pulled the team through. Regret, guilt and then anger took him tumbling down a slippery slope.
He reminisced the giddy heights of fame and felt deeply disappointed seeing it wither away. The same people that cheered now stole glances while walking past him in the market. The local businesses and political parties treated him like every other person. Kamlesh was no more the hero of Kolgaon. He was just an ordinary villager. His heart ached as it grappled with the reality.
His parents and wife tried to talk and nudge him away from sinking into depression. Santaji especially tried hard to keep him motivated. Kamlesh was slowly slipping away from reality.
Scene 3
It was 5pm on Tuesday - 31st December. Kamlesh was fast asleep, he had drunk till the wee hours that day and crashed onto the bed at 7am. Lately, he had taken to drinking after quitting practice.
Santaji nudged him trying to wake up. Seeing Kamlesh barely move, Santaji shook him hard and even splashed water on his face.
Santaji was going to the village temple to listen to a kirtan and wanted to take Kamlesh along. Kirtan is a performance usually in temples where songs praising the deity are sung followed by a narration of stories or spiritual discourse. This kirtankar (one who delivers the kirtan) was famous for his spiritual discourses and Santaji deeply believed Kamlesh might pick a thing or two. A father can only hope.
Santaji dragged a forlorn Kamlesh and they settled in the last row as the kirtan had begun. The kirtankar and his troop were singing abhang ( devotional songs) and the temple complex was reverberating with the sounds of ektara(string instrument), tabla and talas (cymbal).
The singing and music picked up pace and reached a crescendo in few minutes. The intensity hit a chord in Kamlesh’s heart and he was now tuned in. As the song ended, there was a hush and everyone gathered their breath. The kirtankar started his discourse with a bow to the temple deity.
He began narrating a story -
“Today, we will talk about our ego. Ego is the blindfold you and I carry that stops us from seeing the truth. Let’s go through a story of a donkey.”
Once upon a time there was sculptor who carved beautiful idols of Gods and Goddesses. Every Saturday, he loaded his donkey with those idols to take them to the market to sell them. As the sculptor and donkey walked through the village, people looked at the lifelike idols and bowed in reverence. In the evening, after selling of the wares, the pair walked back.
Over time, the donkey grew proud seeing people bowing to him and strutted in vanity. He noticed that people did not bow while coming back in the evening, but he was too full of pride to think much of it. He looked forward to Saturdays to bask in the glow of such love and respect.
As years rolled by, the sculptor took to bed due to ill health and for lack of money, he sold the donkey to a potter. The potter too loaded the donkey with his pottery and walked to the markets on Saturday. As a habit, the donkey walked with a puffed chest but was surprised to see that no one paid any respects.
Surprise soon turned to disappointment and then resentment. One day, out of frustration, he kicked a pebble and shook his back vigorously. The delicate pottery rolled of his back and cracked as it hit the ground. Enraged, the potter hit the donkey with a stick. Reflexively, the donkey kicked the potter hard. Seeing the animal hit the man, villagers gathered and hurled stones at the donkey. Scared, the donkey ran away into the nearby forest. Tame and defenseless, it soon fell prey to a pack of wolves.
“You and I are that donkey. When times are great, we revel in the love, respect and admiration people shower on us. We mistake this as our right and feel entitled to it. When the winds of time turn, we end up feeling frustrated and dejected.
The respect, love and adulation are for the time, not you. It is our ego which misleads us into believing we deserve it all. When the adulation fades away, the ego makes us blame people, time, God - everything except ourselves. Like the donkey, our ego blinds us to the reality.”
“We have infinite potential, but we get caught in all the illusions of fame, status and money. Shake off that ego and tear down the illusion. Focus on being the best you can be and leave the rest to God!”
Kamlesh had been listening intently. After the kirtan, as the father-son walked back, Santaji tapped his son on the shoulder and reminded him of the talent he possessed. He recollected the hours of practice Kamlesh had put in and the crunch matches he had pulled through. These were the moments that defined Kamlesh not the crowd’s adulation and cheers. Kamlesh had lost track of the goal and fallen for the illusion of the fame. Reaching his best potential was the goal for Kamlesh.
As the moon shone that night, Kamlesh looked up into the sky bidding a goodbye to the year. A new day, a new year and new beginning beckoned him and he was now focused on making it count!
This reminds me of Bhagwat Geeta which states that all money fame power are fleeting moments and is not reason of one's existence.
Amazing story!!!!!