Supercali-Fragilistic-Expiali-Docious: Little Deeds of Kindness

I do not know why I am calling this entry by this name. I mean, there is so much more about this episode than the act of kindness. In defense though, to come to think of it, this entire episode would not have been possible without the little deed of kindness. Dad and Mom, if you ever read this, I dedicate this to you. Or yeah, whatever, either way, this goes out to you two. Secondly; Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet, brothers, apologies for what I had to do to you guys for this.

What was the date? Err… 30th March 2011, I think.

That morning, when I got up, little did I know what surprise I had in store waiting. A normal weekday morning, had everything normal about it, except that this Wednesday would go a long way in history. The morning pleasantries, breakfast etcetera. Mom and Deepu were at home. I asked mom where papa was. She said that he had to get to the bank for some urgent work. He’d better be back fast before the roads become inaccessible.

I went to the roof top. It was 9 in the morning and you could see there was a crowd filling in attendance.

Already? Any other day I would have cussed the crowds for having nothing else to do. But not today. This was unarguably going to be a very big day in many peoples’ lives. It was the 2011 Cricket World Cup semifinal, the host, we the Indians, pitted against arch rivals, Pakistan, playing on the very land that divides the two republics, the same land that witnessed many a bloody battle between two of the more stubborn nations over their 60 year history, the land that shares the same name on either side of the border, the land of proportional measure either side of the border, Punjab. You couldn’t blame anyone for the emotions that ran high. This was epic material. This was as if a flash of the wand of destiny made everything fall into place. If there ever was to be an “it” moment, for a cricket crazy fan, for a cricket nation, this had to be it.

I didn’t try to get a ticket for the match. No, I mean, I did try but I knew I could have done better. Whatever! Hardly makes any difference. We had a plan of our own. The new Panasonic Plasma was to don the roof top when the sun went down that evening. The mehfil was to begin then. Lit by the stadium flood lights nearby, back ground score by the forty thousand strong choruses in the cauldron, brought straight to us with an 8 second delay by DishTV (I can’t believe it, I should be paid for naming those lousy morons in this entry), food and drinks, on the house. This was to be a special way of making optimal use of our proximity to the PCA, the Punjab Cricket Association Stadium, Mohali, Punjab. In special attendance were to be Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet.

Sigh! It was 9.30 and from the roof it was visible that the lines from the gates had reached already our street. That’s like almost 200m. And by 10.00 they had blocked direct access to our main gates. Mom summoned me down around then and told me to head to Chandigarh to pick up dad who had caught up on a puncture on Dubeyji’s bike. I took off and got dad back. It was difficult meandering through the masses that had now been standing in the line for almost four hours. I knew the gates were to open at 1 in the afternoon for a 3pm match start. Another better part of three hours to go. Golly! This is indeed a cricket crazy nation; an understatement.

I asked dad about the trip to the bank, early in the morning. I was told that that some loan taken against the place we were staying had been neutralized, (use any financial term you’d like, for me it’s neutralized) which meant that a major tension was over and done with. (Read this between the lines – normally mom gets tenser about such things, but, well you would not blame her for it). Anyway, this was really good news. I mean really good news.

Just soon as the info regarding the loan thing being sorted settled down, dad suggested we do something for the crowd assembling outside our house to get in the stadium. Douh! He suggested we put up sweetened drinking water, chhabeel, on a table within our premises for the fans to have. It goes with a Punjabi tradition and in the Sikh culture, of offering a refreshing drink on the roads to travelers during the peak summer months of April to July, as a commemoration to the 5th Sikh Guru’s sacrifice.

To come to think of it, this was indeed the ‘optimal use of our proximity’ to the PCA, and with the loan thing sorted out, it made all the more sense. But! It would be excruciatingly killing to serve those freaking lucky few who had managed to get their hands on tickets to witness this saga. Damn. The pangs of jealousy. But yeah, when dad says so to do it, and mom agrees, there’s almost nothing that you can do or say without sounding senseless. So, we got to it. Deepu and I set up the table just inside the gate got the water supplies as mom and papa were preparing the sweetener to be added on. I opened the gates and announced that water is being served for everyone who needs it. And we were on.

It felt good. Initially only the few people who were just in front of the gate came up. But as word spread, many more people from nearby also started pouring in. A true working successful example of how a good product and service can market your enterprise. Soon the sweetened water was also arranged and our house gate was thronged. A working example of the production planning tool of supply management based on the demand forecast. Also had hands on experience of the effect of the fluctuating demand on the method and mode of supply. Then we realized a very common psychology with people standing in the lines. No one would like to leave their positions for water, when they had waited for over 2 hours in the heat. So this gave way to the next brainwave, of walking down the road serving 15 glasses of the chhabeel at a time. Although each round lasted less than a few 10 meters here and there, is was the farthest reaching approach to reach the customer. A Marketing Tool again.

And when everyone you serve returns the favor with a ‘thanks’ you tend to feel good, about having done something good. About having done a little deed of kindness. And with each glass, ‘India ko jeeta ke aana’. God! This cricket crazy country!

And then… Like a bolt of lightning straight out of nowhere, a guy came up to the gate, the table on which we had the glasses placed. He wispered, “Dude, are you also watching the match?” “Yes, I am. On TV.” “We have an extra ticket of a friend who didn’t turn up. Would you want it?” Oh My God…!!! “Are you serious?” “Well, yes, we had a mind to sell it anyway and thought of asking you guys first, since you are doing a great job.” “Yes. I want the ticket. How much do I have to pay for it?” “It’s a general block ticket. For 500/-. Pay as much as you think is right.” Oh! This frikking conscious. This ticket is worth a gazillion at this hour. Barely an hour before play begins. And I have the right to pay whatever I want to for it…! Mom was nearest at hand, a wise person to have at a time like this. She asked me whether I had called the guy up or he came forward himself. She asked me whether the guy had bought the ticket in black or from the counter. Since it was him who came forward, she told me it made sense to pay the amount the guy had to pay for the ticket originally, either in black or otherwise.

When I got back to the guy at the gate, he insisted that I pay as much I deemed perfect for the ticket without disclosing how much he paid for it. Hell! This is insane. I dished out a 500/- Gandhi for the ticket in my hand, and the guy left the gate and became a part of the overflowing crowd rearing to enter the ‘Coliseum’.

Dad, refused to believe the authenticity of the ticket unless I be able to enter the stadium. I was lost for words or any expressions. Within five minutes, from doing the rounds of serving water to being a proud ticket holder, I didn’t know what made sense or what not. Vipul and Arjit would have insisted I sell the ticket for a couple of thousand bucks and watch the match in a lavish lounge.

I don’t know. I decided. It’s not normal for some random guy, whose name I don’t know, whom I don’t recognize, to come up to me of all thousands of other ticketless people and offer me the match ticket that begins in an hour or so. Forget the cost of the ticket. It comes down to the Ying-Yang concept. The do good and get good. It comes down to that little deed of kindness you do, by instinct or all the more willingly, that pays dividends. It’s a very conveniently arguable issue. It’s sometimes very clichéd. It may be ironical at times. Whatever! I don’t preach deeds of kindness, but when you happen to do some, something good would definitely happen. And for me I got to experience something un-matched probably unmatchable. Probably so much so, that no other contest would be worth watching live in the PCA ever again. On the other hand, (hysterically speaking) I don’t think I would have ever forgiven myself for not watching “this” match in the stadium next to our house after what happened later that evening, and more so, a few days later on 2nd April.

So, as it happened to be. I finished off with the water serving at the gate. Left Deepu and Papa to carry on the same for some time till most of the crowd had thinned down. Changed into something for the occasion and hared across the nearby parks to get to the entry gate my ticket directed me to. No hassle, an easy access into the stadium premises. Further into the actual playing arena. This indeed was “it”. Dad got to believe that we hadn’t been duped of 500/- bucks. The summer sun in the afternoon was at its piercing best. But nothing could have diluted the spirits. The icing on the cake was, by far, by-way-far, the feeling of 35,000 people singing the National Anthem together. Literally Goosebumps stuff.

The next eight hours would be an embedded memory for a very long time, and with this blog entry, for an even longer time. Screaming and shrieking my lungs coarse with other 40,000 or so unknown people, witnessing India gallop to victory was as befitting as it gets. I guess I would have to catch up on cricinfo.com regarding the intricate details, but the overall feeling is pretty much put-into-words by this.

I’d definitely owe this treasured experience to that little deed of kindness dad and mom got me to do. God! This really had been awesome.

It goes without saying that Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet were left high and dry on that evening. The new Panasonic Plasma after-all didn’t get to don the roof that night. But well guys, if you read this, apologies again. And knowing your replies, fuck you again! :)

Cheers!!!

Glimpses: