The Last Breath

An oil lamp was lit quite some time back. All this while it shone brilliantly, doing its job efficiently, the job it was born to do. But now, only the last few drops of oil remain. The darkest corner of the room, lying right beneath the lamp’s feet, is waiting patiently, waiting for the time to strike; the time isn’t too far. A ferocious wind blows across trying to end the lamp’s life abruptly. But, the lamp fights on. It has stamped on the darkest corner all its life and will continue to do so, till it lives, till the last breath…

‘All good things come to an end’ (and so do all the bad ones) was how my school Assembly used to end. Sometimes, one knows the end is near, while at others, it comes as a rude shock. At times, you choose your end and at others, fate has different plans. But I wonder how it feels to undergo those last moments, how does one find the courage to move on.

This question struck me when Sachin Tendulkar decided to quit a 24-year old international cricket career at 40, an age considered too old for the sport, a career, people say, was stretched way past his peak. I was almost convinced it was against his will; be it his body not supporting him (which he later admitted), his reflexes slowing down or the pressure from the BCCI and media, it was not what he wanted. A hurriedly arranged tournament was fitted in Team India’s already busy schedule and matches were held at Kolkata and Mumbai as per his wishes. Articles running lengths in miles were written and a whole nation emoted the frenzy. The man deserved every single adulation and gesture; he had earned it, but amidst all this madness, he would have still thought- ‘Last match! I mustn’t fail!’

I witnessed the feeling in college when two of my closest friends ended up playing, what could have been, their last competitive match, and lost them. Both cried uncontrollably thereafter and kept pondering over what could have changed the outcome: should I have run faster, should I have practiced longer?

What is with these people, champions, in their respective fields, that the last event matters so much? No one would dare give them lesser credit if they fail in their last outing. Yet, a Don Bradman or a Saurav Ganguly will not forget his last match where he was out without scoring. Retirement becomes impossible to accept for a Michael Schumacher, who has got nothing left to prove, but still makes a come-back with a non-Ferrari team and a Shahid Afridi, who has made several retirements and come-backs and continues to lack consistent form!

Yes, an indomitable passion runs in these people’s veins for a field that has created their identities. For them, leaving their identities behind themselves and moving on, is like unwillingly living someone else’s life. But I also don’t understand what gives my grandfather, all of 80 years, having accomplished all desires in his life, the zeal to still actively work in the stock market, why does accepting retirement become so difficult and what leads Sachin to ask his wife, “Can I still go for cricket practice after I retire?!”

Just about two drops of oil remain in the lamp. The end nears. The darkest corner knows the time is nearer. He begins to dance furiously, trying to overpower the light from the lamp. But, the lamp is still alive! It shines. The light is brighter. However, the grip of its feet, under which lies the darkest corner, loosens. It gives out one last smile, and the room is brighter than ever before, one last fight, which it knows it might lose. And then, the one last breath… and darkness takes over.