The Thrill of a Win!

May be, it is just a small three lettered word---- but in it are pent up many thrills and swirling butterflies in the stomach; its enthralling power has forever stirred ripples in many a heart, thumping in a small child or in someone matured and advanced in age---it has shaken all happily--- and you need just a WIN to feel its magic.

Winning , at any stage, leaves a deep impact in the mind---we never forget that moment of being chosen as the winner in a crowd of competitors...how thrilling that single moment is.. From the first rays of awareness, a child loves to win, be it snatching away a toy or running ahead of all, the spirit is to win. The addiction to this thrill is so intoxicating that the crave for it stretches through all the years of aging; then when one sits back to see all the years gone by, the highlights that shine out and glitter are the moments of a WIN.

Some days back, I got one of those much desired ,yet rare, urges to de-clutter my clutter of so many nothings that had piled up in my corner of sentimental stuff. I knew the urge had its drawbacks, for such impulses for de-cluttering sentiment ends up in keeping back all clutter and coming away with a heart brimful of memories both happy and sad. So that afternoon, after lunch, I sat with my old stuff with a determination to throw all that had no meaning anymore.Many things came to my hand as I fumbled through my bundles, each stuff had its own story, each of them spoke out some event from the past, small stray incidents that had held grave meaning then.In the jumble, my fingers touched a silky soft material, more like a broad sash, tapering at the end---long, all crumbled,a pale shade of the glaze that it might have had when it was new----reddish brown with white diagonal stripes. As I pulled out the whole length of the stuff---I could hear, as if, from the distance of decades, some thrilling cheers and claps and shrieks and yoo hoos of crowds that lay hazily in my memory of more than fifty years.....it was a neck tie belonging to my uncle.

St . Mary's Convent was having its annual sports....of the many events of drill, P.T., March Pasts, gymnastics,.... running races was a very much awaited event in the programme. To get a chance in your class race was the dream of many in the class. That year I got a chance to participate, it was "Running to Office, Tie the knot of my tie" race.I had to have a partner too. Being chosen did not end the motive, I had to know how to make the perfect knot and that too before any of my competitors would be able to do, all standing
in a row. It seemed a lost battle for me, as wearing a tie to office was not a practice of my father, so from whom to learn? It was my uncle's tie and he was out of Allahabad. I entreated one of my friends, who boasted having an executive brother donning suit and tie every day....to teach me the art. The tie that now lay in my hand all limp and lifeless in a dirty, clutter full room was then a most shimmering length of the best of of silks potent with the fulfilment of all my dreams of a WIN.

Today we read in ads---"you eat pepsi, you sleep pepsi, you dream pepsi",for me tying the knot race became my "eat sleep dream"----my practicing became a 24 into 7 ritual. With no neck to practice on,I took my Father's study chair with its erect back resting bar as the stern neck to bear all my practices of tying the knot. I would bribe my mother to stay up in her sleepy afternoons with loving entreaties to blow the whistle, as I would, tie in hand,run the length of our long verandah panting and heaving as if the world lay at the end of my run where stood the forlorn chair to get the coveted knot. At the end of each practice , as the tie slipped down the wooden bar of the chair and fell listlessly at the bottom, I would see my dreams shattered in that crumbled bundle of silk, with no perfect knot to pride on.

Seven days went off with my untiring practices all alone in our verandah; I could hardly see any spark of hope in my efforts, while my partner, who would adorn the tie on the final day, remained oblivious of my anguished rehearsal sessions at home.
The Final Day came. Dressed in white , with an expression of cool confidence covering a quivering heart underneath, I stood in line with my competitors in the sports' field surrounded by crowds of spectators, teachers, parents, friends and students---the air filled with the buzzing hum of excited voices from the arena. I could see my partner standing mid-way in the field, in waiting for me to run and tie the knot.
The whistle went off in its highest pitch and our whole line sped ahead, as if, for our dear lives, towards our partners waiting with abated breath, neck crooned forward, as if that would speed up our tying. I reached my other half and almost banged into her, holding my tie around her neck. My fingers went about deftly, loop inside and out, pulling at its fastest, while my companion whispered in heavy excited breaths "fast fast' panting away her panic. Suddenly, all seemed to move in slow motion for me, all sounds from the crowd seemed a far off drum beat, holding on to my breath I pulled the final knot---and Lo ! behold ! there slowly rose at the push of my fingers, a perfect knot along the length of the silken tie stopping just at the collar joint of my partner's shirt. It was a perfect one ! ..but no time to stand and stare....I held on to my friends sweaty palm and pulled her off to the end of the field, not daring to look at the others.----and it seemed as if as the rope reached me than me reaching the rope --the cheers and the shrieks and the yoo hoos and clapping became louder---till I realised I had made it !! Some teachers pulled us forward to stand on an elevated platform while the runners up followed in...the loud speakers blared out my name as the winner and the cheers and claps dinned our ears, red hot with excitement. That was a thrill that till date stands no comparison to any other joy that could have rocked the heart of a school girl.

So back to my task of de-cluttering, as I held that tie in hand I could feel the life that lay dormant in its crumbled folds, the agonising hopes, the tiring efforts and the practices that lay entwined in its silken threads...each thread, that with me years back, had dreamt of a WIN to rejoice on. Such is the thrill of this simple three lettered word that wants itself to be relived again and again..be it a simple cup in a school race or a huge golden cup in World Sports..the thrill that pervades through the heart remains the same in all....and here I am penning down that Thrill of a Win that shook me decades ago in the fields of St Mary's convent. !!