The Sine Curve

I can hear my heart throb, everything is so silent, at the bow end on the coxswain’s command I am right at the edge of my seat oar in, all I can see is the algae infested pungent water spreading out to the open, one kilometre is all that stands between the sweet humbling taste of victory and the sour humiliation of loss. One year on the boat house, complete with six months of in-house training for the race. The pistol bellows away into the air and I can see the spit being expelled from the boats coxswains as they direct their boats into victory. Everything happened so fast in a couple of seconds I’m going up and down the seat like a robot, my muscles are dying as we speak being intoxicated with lactic acid the pain becomes worse and worse, half my mind says give up but all I can hear is my cox commanding me to give him “Ten Hard” within seconds my heart and brain are working in the most rarest of combinations to find every bit of energy left to be pumped into the muscles, 200 metres more, the other four has got a lead, the cox takes a bad call for going all out at the 100 metre mark and we cut in second and as we break and hold her hard, Every muscle fibre is now throbbing with pain, my lungs thirsty for oxygen and my tongue trying to breathe the water vapour off the air!

Rowing, the most hardcore sport that requires extreme cardiovascular fitness, a sport that teaches an individual discipline, humility and so much more. It’s not a sport, its a religion, it’s a way of life. When I had the privilege of experiencing this humble beginning for a mere two years of my life it changed the person I am and who I have turned out to become. Back in 2007, my school launched and promoted the start of a rowing team, the first and only school to start the practice of this discipline. Amateur posters made by sportsmen filled every notice board on the launch of the rowing club.During my school life I was more of the invisible individual, average on academics, a high low on sports and extra curricular. I wanted to join rowing for two reason, it sounded cool and was a sport which wasn’t intoxicated with peer pressure and ‘cool’ kids who controlled the status quo.

After joining is when I realised how helpful it would become in course of my life, rowing disciplined me as a man, made me stronger, coming from a family that pampered me on every occasion I was quite the sensitive chubby kid. Rowing threw me into the dungeons of hard life, showed me things that everyone doesn’t see, rowing even though termed to be one of the most prestigious and luxurious sports it does treat humans how to be gentlemen and ladies. As I moved up the rally of members in the rowing team I finally became a senior after a strenuous six month training with a more experienced school who were very helpful in helping their competition improve. The school didn’t care to hold back because we were their competition but instead they spent expensive resources on five members of our team so that we can go back to our school team with the knowledge, power and techniques of an experienced team.

Two years into training disaster struck my life. I was gifted with three slip discs on my spinal cord, which induced horrible pain on my back and forced me into a month of bed rest and juicy 6 month period off sports. I wasn’t able to do anything at all, a person who used to spend half his life at the rowing club had now nothing to do at all. I felt useless, as though my life had no meaning, I hated that fact, after tasting the feel of being somebody being thrown back into the forests of nobody was a disaster. Being unable to stay away from the rowing club I still used to pay visits and encourage youngsters to join and help in training, On the day of a regatta, I saw a school cover the whole event with media, teens walking around with RED cameras, recording, editing and giving a live news report which was broadcasted directly through satellite. I was taken aback, I’ve always been fascinated by video and been the official media personnel during family occasions.

My friend told me “If only our school had a media Club, we’d so be in it!!”, I replied “Why not? Bro! Why not?”, days later I was standing outside my Principal’s Office with a letter and documentation on the founding of a media club in School. I walked in after a thorough inspection from her secretary, my hands all jittery, yet again I heard my heart throb, the framework was clear in my head but my mouth would NOT open. After a couple of minutes she sat me down and got a gist of the idea. I founded the club upon thorough screening from the student council and faculty I had founded my very own creation . I was more than proud, Founded in 2010, the club grew exponentially in two years , starting its very own radio station, the first inter-school Photographic Competition and awarded best media Club of the Year and pulled my growth along as well, I was more than a somebody, a boy who didn’t have the chance to even sit at the last row of graduation was awarded with Prefect-ship, the Student Councillor and called back to be the Chief Guest of the School Prize Giving. Who in the right mind thought that me-chubby tamizh kid could pull it off. None of this would have been possible if not for Rowing and my gift that I have to unfortunately live with, my slip discs

However I wasn’t satisfied, this gift did have repercussions with fame it poisoned my life with bad health. I was becoming unfit and how ever trained I was mentally, medicine wanted me to be scared and I stayed indoors, lost fitness, threw me into a two year spell of fast food mixed into a cocktail of alcohol, drugs and tobacco, which made my body go haywire. I was thrown under the spell of laziness and I found it so hard to get out till I hit the hard wall of reality. Fame and good nature wasn’t enough to be content, you’re always surrounded by superficial people who don’t look beyond the looks, I was thrown into fitness back again, my body was too weak to even run for more than 30 seconds, the mental training I was taught came back, pushed my body to run ten minutes, how much ever I panted I wasn’t going to let my coach down, I wanted to make him proud, today once again I have become more refined, I’m feeling much better, I’ve found a purpose in life once again, I am not going to do things for others any more but for myself that’s what training has taught me, I wanna look good for myself not for superficial beings, I’m going to work on Project ‘Me’. This discipline has taught me so much and is still teaching me, even now even though I don’t practice the art any more I am training myself back to what I was, pain does not matter any more, I have worn out of the gifts I gave birth to five years ago. Hard work is the pure ultimatum, that along with a sprinkle of intelligence no matter what it is you can reconstruct anything, it’s never too late, but the later it gets the path to success gets longer. Yet again all that stands between me and the sweet humbling taste of Victory is that narrow scary path. The lights that seem to illuminate this path are as always my discipline, future goals and as always my support system-friends and family, constantly flashing milestones along the path.