RIP, Muhammad Ali - Greatest boxer, champion of human rights

It is just about an hour since news broke that Muhammad Ali is no more. And it is already trending on Twitter and Facebook. I thought the present generation, the ones who are mostly on the social media, might not know much about who this great man is. But I am wrong.

Muhammad Ali was a name that many in my generation grew up with. That he was a World Heavyweight Boxing Champion was just one of the reasons. He was Black. And like any Black in those times, had to face huge struggles to live like a normal human being.

Photo credit: BBC

We all kept hearing and reading stories about how this man, who was born Cassius Clay, stood up for people who were being persecuted merely for the colour of their skin. He converted to Islam, took the name, we all now know him as. And most famously refused to join the US Army to fight against Vietnam. He was later stripped of the World Boxing Championship title he had won.

He set the trend for many Black American sportspersons. He taught them that their colour wasn't anything to be ashamed about. He taught them to look beyond such things and believe in their sporting skills.

He later came to be celebrated as a great human being, feted by George Bush in 2005 with America's highest civilian honour.

Muhammad Ali's India connection

• Photos from The Hindu ()
• Article in India Today ()
• Norris Pritam's piece in Firstpost ()

Boxing in my school

In school, we had boxing as a sporting event. In fact, my alma mater Sainik School, in Thiruvananthapuram, was the only school in Kerala that had a professional boxing ring. All of us had to learn boxing as a part of sports, and take part in bouts. The best among us represented the House in the Boxing Championship. There was such aggressive competitiveness in that tournament every year that it became so prestigious. And, we were all inspired by Mohammad Ali in some way.

Rest In Peace, The Greatest

Signing off with one of the popular songs on Mohammad Ali. I love this so much.

Tony Cozier: the authoritative voice of West Indian cricket

With the passing away of Tony Cozier in Barbados yesterday, the world of cricket commentating has lost a grand, melodious voice.

He was one of the great commentators who made up the BBC Test Match Special team. And, I grew up listening to him, among other like Brian Johnston, Don Mosey, Henry Blofeld, Christopher Martin Jenkins, Johnathan Agnew etc. I still listen to Test Match Special.

Tony Cozier, being from Barbados, had the typical accent of that region, referred to sometimes as the Bajan accent. It was a pleasure always listening to him commentating, be it when a batsman cracked the willow and the cherry flew over the ropes, or when the bowler was right on target and blew the stumps away.

Here is a clipping, via Sound Cloud.

Tony Cozier had a phenomenal knowledge of cricket, and it came through in all his writings and commentaries.

West Indies cricket has a romantic charm about it, the Calypsos just being one part of it. Tony Cozier took us closer to that wonderful land far way from here, and entertained us. He was there when West Indies cricket was on top of the world, with Clive Lloyd, Viv Richards, Malcolm Marshall, Joel Gardner, Colin Croft etc. He was there when the great team began to slide, and plummeted to embarrassing lows.

Tony Cozier's voice will forever resonate in memories.

Rest in Peace. 

Abdul Kalam, a beacon of inspiration

When I saw the three-word announcement "Abdul Kalam dead" on PTI Twitter feed close to 9 pm yesterday, I just couldn't believe it. There was an earlier news item that he had been hospitalized in Shillong. But his end was too unexpected and shocking. It took some time for it to sink in.

What a way for a man like Kalam to depart. He was doing what he likes the best: talking to students at the IIM in Shillong.

While I was watching television visuals of the official ceremonial tributes being paid to Kalam as he lay in State at the Palam airport this morning, one thought crossed my mind: Atal Behari Vajpayee is unable to come and pay his tributes. After all, it was the Vajpayee government that nominated him to the President's post.

In this extract from Turning Points: A Journey through Challenges, that appeared in Scroll, Kalam describes the moments that led up to him becoming the President. 

The fact that Kalam became the President, an unusual President, went a long way in all of us getting to know more about this amazing human being. Had he not become the President, we still would have known him, as a Missile Man. But the role of the President gave him a lot more of opportunities to influence all of us.

Abdul Kalam was more of a teacher, a scientist and gentle human being, than the 11th ceremonial Head of State of our nation. And because of those unique qualities, he was able to breathe fresh life into the role of the occupant of Rashtrapati Bhavan.

As a President, whenever Kalam attended events, he was not the stereotypical Head of State. He identified with the common people, especially children and students.

He came very close to what many of us see as a very desirable scenario of academicians and intellectuals getting to have a greater say in the running of our country. His speeches were not the typical long-drawn out ones dripping with political rhetoric. He had a vision for the country, to see India as a great nation; and he worked tirelessly for inculcating the right ideals and value systems among all of us, especially the students.

Kalam is gone. But his teachings and the invaluable thoughts he shared with us will always remain. And he will continue to be a beacon of inspiration, someone we can always look up to.

Rest in Peace, Kalam.

Here is a moving account by Srijan Pal Singh, an associate of Kalam, on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/SrijanPalSingh/posts/1036964249687030

If the link isn't working here it is:

What I will be remembered for.. my memory of the last day with the great Kalam sir...

It has been eight hours since we last talked – sleep eludes me and memories keep flushing down, sometimes as tears. Our day, 27th July, began at 12 noon, when we took our seats in the flight to Guhawati. Dr. Kalam was 1A and I was IC. He was wearing a dark colored “Kalam suit”, and I started off complimenting, “Nice color!” Little did I know this was going to be the last color I will see on him.

Long, 2.5 hours of flying in the monsoon weather. I hate turbulence, and he had mastered over them. 

Whenever he would see me go cold in shaking plane, he would just pull down the window pane and saw, “Now you don’t see any fear!”.

That was followed by another 2.5 hours of car drive to IIM Shillong. For these two legged trip of five hours we talked, discussed and debated. These were amongsthundreds of the long flights and longer drives we have been together over the last six years. 

As each of them, this was as special too. Three incidents/discussions in particular will be “lasting memories of our last trip”. 

First, Dr. Kalam was absolutely worried about the attacks in Punjab. The loss of innocent lives left him filledwith sorrow. The topic of lecture at IIM Shillong was Creating a Livable Planet Earth. He related the incident to the topic and said, “it seems the man made forces are as big a threat to the livability of earth as pollution”. We discussed on how, if this trend of violence, pollution and reckless human action continues we will forced to leave earth. “Thirty years, at this rate, maybe”, he said. 

“You guys must do something about it… it is going to be your future world”

Our second discussion was more national. For the past two days, Dr. Kalam was worried that time and again Parliament, the supreme institution of democracy, was dysfunctional. He said, “I have seen two different governments in my tenure. I have seen more after that. This disruption just keeps happening. It is not right. I really need to find out a way to ensure that the parliament works on developmental politics.” He then asked me to prepare a surprise assignment question for the students at IIM Shillong, which he would give them only at the end of the lecture. He wanted to them to suggest three innovative ways to make the Parliament more productive and vibrant. Then, after a while he returned on it. “But how can ask them to give solutions if I don’t have any myself”. For the next one hour, we thwarted options after options, who come up with his recommendation over the issue. We wanted to include this discussion in our upcoming book, Advantage India. 

Third, was an experience from the beauty of his humility. We were in a convoy of 6-7 cars. Dr. Kalam and I were in the second car. Ahead us was an open gypsy with three soldiers in it. Two of them were sitting on either side and one lean guy was standing atop, holding his gun. One hour into the road journey, Dr. Kalam said, “Why is he standing? He will get tired. This is like punishment. Can you ask a wireless message to given that he may sit?” I had to convince him, he has been probably instructed to keep standing for better security. He did not relent. We tried radio messaging, that did not work. 

For the next 1.5 hours of the journey, he reminded me thrice to see if I can hand signal him to sit down. Finally, realizing there is little we can do – he told me, “I want to meet him and thank him”. 

Later, when we landed in IIM Shillong, I went inquiring through security people and got hold of the standing guy. I took him inside and Dr. Kalam greeted him. He shook his hand, said thank you buddy. “Are you tired? Would you like something to eat? I am sorry you had to stand so long because of me”. The young lean guard, draped in black cloth, was surprised at the treatment. He lost words, just said, “Sir, aapkeliye to 6 ghantebhikhaderahenge”. 

After this, we went to the lecture hall. He did not want to be late for the lecture. “Students should never be made to wait”, he always said. I quickly set up his mike, briefed on final lecture and took position on the computers. As I pinned his mike, he smiled and said, “Funny guy! Are you doing well?” ‘Funny guy’, when said by Kalam could mean a variety of things, depending on the tone and your own assessment. It could mean, you have done well, you have messed up something, you should listen to him or just that you have been plain naïve or he was just being jovial. Over six years I had learnt to interpret Funny Guy like the back of my palm. This time it was the last case. 

“Funny guy! Are you doing well?” he said. I smiled back, “Yes”. Those were the last words he said. 

Two minutes into the speech, sitting behind him, I heard a long pause after completing one sentence. 

I looked at him, he fell down. 

We picked him up. As the doctor rushed, we tried whatever we could. I will never forget the look in his three-quarter closed eyes and I held his head with one hand and tried reviving with whatever I could. His hands clenched, curled onto my finger. There was stillness on his face and those wise eyes were motionlessly radiating wisdom. He never said a word. He did not show pain, only purpose was visible. 

In five minutes we were in the nearest hospital. In another few minutes the they indicated the missile man had flown away, forever. I touched his feet, one last time. Adieu old friend! Grand mentor! See you in my thoughts and meet in the next birth. 

As turned back, a closet of thoughts opened. 

Often he would ask me, “You are young, decide what will like to be remembered for?” I kept thinking of new impressive answers, till one day I gave up and resorted to tit-for-tat. I asked him back, “First you tell me, what will you like to be remembered for? President, Scientist, Writer, Missile man, India 2020, Target 3 billion…. What?” I thought I had made the question easier by giving options, but he sprang on me a surprise. “Teacher”, he said. 

Then something he said two weeks back when we were discussing about his missile time friends. He said, “Children need to take care of their parents. It is sad that sometimes this is not happening”. He paused and said, “Two things. Elders must also do. Never leave wealth at your deathbed – that leaves a fighting family. Second, one is blessed is one can die working, standing tall without any long drawn ailing. Goodbyes should be short, really short”. 

Today, I look back – he took the final journey, teaching, what he always wanted to be remembered doing. And, till his final moment he was standing, working and lecturing. He left us, as a great teacher, standing tall. He leaves the world with nothing accumulated in his account but loads of wishes and love of people. He was a successful, even in his end. 

Will miss all the lunches and dinners we had together, will miss all the times you surprised me with your humility and startled me with your curiosity, will miss the lessons of life you taught in action and words, will miss our struggles to race to make into flights, our trips, our long debates. You gave me dreams, you showed me dreams need to be impossible, for anything else is a compromise to my own ability. The man is gone, the mission lives on. Long live Kalam.

Your indebted student,

Srijan Pal Singh

We will miss you, MP. Rest in Peace

Flying Officer (Rtd) M P Anil Kumar, the unbelievable source of inspiration for countless people, left for his heavenly abode at 8.15 am today. He turned 50 on May 5.

Funeral will be at Bopodi crematorium near CME (Harris) Bridge, about 2.5 km from Paraplegic Rehabiliatation Home, tomorrow, Wednesday, May 21. The body will reach the PRC at 9 am, where tributes will be paid by PRC inmates. The body will be moved to the crematorium at 10 am. From 10.30 to 11.30 friends and well wishers will be able to pay their tributes. The funeral is at 11.30 am.

From June 28, 1988, to today, a stretch of 26 long years, MP (as we all called him) fought his adversities so bravely. He was a fighter pilot, flying MiGs. But ended up fighting a different battle from his wheelchair and bed.

MP was one year senior to me in school: Sainik School, Kazhakootam, Kerala. He was there for the games and parades. He got into NDA like many of my schoolmates, shone like bright star, won medals and accolades, until that fateful day in June, by a strange quirk of fate he was rendered immobile from neck downwards.

With the IAF chief.

I will let MP himself tell what happened, in this highly inspirational essay: "Airborne to Chairborne", which he wrote for the Indian Express. Click here. (In case the link is not working, you can also read the full essay at the end of this post.)

His home was the Paraplegic Rehabilitation Centre, Kirkee, Pune. Whenever I had a chance to go to Pune, just like many of his friends, I too made it a point to call on him at PRC. He would just keep talking about politics, defence, sports, media. He had an amazing depth of knowledge and was well tuned into all that was happening around us. He wrote many articles on defence related matters in Rediff.com, and middles in Indian Express. Despite his limitations, he was always cheerful, with a great sense of humour.

Once when I met him in 2000, I was amazed to see the books on computer that were stacked in his room. That was the time, when personal computers were getting affordable and popular. He got on to the cyber world to keep himself active, and be in touch his friends. He kept himself engaged, visiting schools, giving inspirational talks. Many school and college projects have been done on MP.

When I met him on February 21, 2012

Two years ago, when I met MP, he was telling me how age had caught on, how his body had become weak, and how he wasn't able to read for long, how he became too tired too fast etc.

Things were getting more difficult for MP, but the most tragic blow, after all that he had suffered, came last month. He was having frequent bouts of fever, and on April 12 he was admitted to Military Hospital Kirkee, Pune, for detailed tests. A few days later, he was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (it is one of the more dangerous forms of blood cancer). Due to his quadriplegia, severe treatments were ruled out. He was administered one round of chemo.

I visited him on Sunday, May 11. I was a bit skeptical as to how the meeting would go. But the moment I saw him, all my worries vanished. He was smiling, instantly started talking to me, with that sense of humour he had. He just put me at ease. I was there for close to 2 hours, from around 12.15 pm. He also spoke on phone to my father, who taught him in school. I wished him speedy recovery. He thanked me. After one final caress on his forehead and cheeks, and I left, with the fervent hope that I will be able to meet him again.

Talking to me, when I met him on Feb 21, 2012.

He was okay, and a few days later, he was shifted back to PRC from the MH. But soon his condition worsened. On Saturday, May 17, he was moved to ICU in MH, Kirkee. Doctors put his condition under DIL (Dangerously Ill) category. Last night, one his friends messaged me that his condition had got really worse. And, today morning, that valiant struggle ended. An irreparable loss.

There are very few who touch people's hearts the way MP did; very few who are looked up to for their strength of mind and their determination, very few about whom children study as a part of their curriculum in schools, when that person is alive.

MP was an unbelievably true fighter. God had scripted this different life for him. But, MP taught us that there is plenty of life even with the worst adversities. He taught us many many invaluable lessons.

Life is not about longevity. It's about what you mean to others, people around you. MP, you achieved so much, in spite of all your hardship. You meant so much to every one who knew you.

You have been a true guide, an invaluable inspiration. Will never forget you.

Rest in Peace, MP.

*******************

Airborne to Chairborne

All my attempts to move my limbs were futile. The pain in the neck was excruciating and it intensified by the second. I was stumped for a moment but quickly recovered to realise the seriousness and significance of my inability to get up. I do not remember whether I screamed involuntarily, then, in sheer desperation. On that abominable night, my mind was in a medley of intense frustration, utmost dejection and extreme disappointment. For some timeless moments, I wished I were dead.

On 28 June ’88, at around 2300 hrs, whilst returning to the Officers Mess on my motorcycle after night flying, I drove onto a road barrier just ahead of the technical area gate, inside Air Force Station, Pathankot. The impact of the helmet on the wooden bar wrenched my neck and broke the cervical spine. Fifteen minutes after the accident, I was taken to the Station Sick Quarters in an unconscious state. While being carried, my head was left unsupported. The base of the helmet (rear side) which was resting against the nape of the neck pushed the fractured vertebrae into the cervical spinal cord. (The casualty must always be carried in a stretcher, after immobilising his/her neck with a cervical collar.) The resultant spinal injury completely paralysed me below the neck.

After overnight’s stay in Military Hospital (MH), Pathankot, I was transferred to Army Hospital, Delhi (AHDC). Neck surgery failed to mitigate my predicament. Though I had brief spells of consciousness during the fortnight’s hospitalisation in AHDC, my memory fails to recollect my fight for survival. On 12 July ’88, I was transferred to the Spinal Cord Injury Centre of MH Kirkee, Pune.

Two weeks after my admission, I gathered my wits and eagerly inquired about the prognosis. The medical officer looked up and motioned his hands skywards; perhaps he wanted me to adjure divine intervention. This charade instantly deflated my hopes but it lucidly conveyed the enormity and helplessness of the incurable nature of the incapacitation. Inconsistencies of life have always bemused me but not even the wildest nightmare presaged that one day I would fall prey to such a quirk of fate. The modicum of faith I had in Providence got shattered when I failed to show even an iota of improvement.

The cervical spinal injury (quadriplegia) necessitated me to lead a totally dependent life, tethered to the bed and wheel chair. Now, I am like a man fettered for life; unable to use my hands and legs, incontinent and spoon‑fed. Ironically, the most painful aspect of quadriplegia is the painlessness! It isn’t mere loss of tactile inputs and outputs but absolute dependence on someone else to accomplish mundane necessities and domestic chores that yoked me; even for things like swabbing ears and swatting flies.

Disuse atrophy had set in within a couple of months and took its toll by altering the geometry of my torso and limbs. The mirror replicated the image of a human skeleton swathed in a layer of wizened skin. Two years’ stay in MH Kirkee taught me how to battle the numerous encumbrances and how to conquer the bouts of depression. With a smile on my face, I managed to dissemble the pangs of the heart. The Indian Air Force (IAF) realised my uselessness and discharged me from the service on 12 April ’90. The silly accident dealt coup de grace to my aspirations and terminated my fledgling career in the IAF. In August ’90, at the young age of 26, I got admitted in Paraplegic Home, Park Road, Kirkee, Pune, as an inmate to begin the second phase of my life afresh.

I was born and brought up in a village by name Chirayinkil, 35 kms north of Trivandrum. At the age of nine, I entered Sainik School, Kazhakootam. A slow learner and an unobtrusive student by nature, I had excelled consistently in both academics and sports. Later on, I was found worthy enough to be adjudged as the best Air Force cadet of 65th course of National Defence Academy (NDA), Khadakwasla, Pune and as the best in aerobatics of 134th Pilots Course of Air Force Academy, Secunderabad. In Dec ’84, I was commissioned into the IAF as a fighter pilot. I had 700 hours of flying experience (including 500 hours of flying in a magnificent flying machine called MiG-21) during my truncated career in the IAF.

All my efforts to rationalise personal catastrophes have always mystified and at times stupefied me. To adapt to the new challenges posed by the debility, I had to unshackle myself from the self‑imposed stupor. Therefore, in Sep ’90, I decided to learn the art of writing by holding a pen in my mouth (because of dysfunctional hands). I began scribbling illegibly but was chagrined to find little progress even after 3 weeks’ laborious efforts. Then, I decided to change tactic and wrote a letter to Sheela George, the person who kept on chivvying to start mouth‑writing (earlier I had paid little attention to her exhortations). My joy knew no bounds when I completed the few lines that embodied my first mouth‑written letter. Initially, I found my hard work to be a mere pie in the sky; but, 4 to 5 months’ assiduous efforts resulted in attaining a readable style of writing. This modest achievement enabled me in reviving the chain of correspondence and begetting new friends.

In May 1991, I was presented with an electrically operated wheel chair, with chin controls for manoeuvring, thanks to the benevolence of the IAF. Motorised mobility, though only a poor substitute for natural one, has enlivened my lifestyle considerably.

It was Wing Commander PI Murlidharan, my former flight commander, who mooted the use of a personal computer (PC), as a writing tool. He added that it would assist me to utilise my mental faculty to the hilt. Hitherto unsuccessful attempts in procuring a keyboard (modified to suit my requirements) have somewhat emasculated my resolve. Nonetheless, my hope of acquiring a PC remains undiminished.

In the meantime, I toyed with the idea of teaching. For some untenable reasons, I kept on declining the offers by bringing one imaginary reason or another as an ad hoc excuse. Aforesaid setbacks notwithstanding, I’m very hopeful of converting the second phase of my life into something as meaningful as the one I would have had from the confines of a cockpit.

"Believe it or not, every dark cloud has a silver lining. To surmount even seemingly insuperable obstacles, one has to muster the remnant faculties and shun the thought of disability and then canalise one’s dormant energies purposefully and whole‑heartedly. It isn’t just physical ability and average intelligence but an insatiable appetite for success and an unflagging will power that would texture the warp and woof of the fabric called human destiny. Greater the difficulty, sweeter the victory."

Daring escape by IAF officers from Pak jail - Part 2

Second and last part of M P Anil Kumar's piece on the escape of three IAF officers from a Pak jail 41 years ago. "The three escapees were never feted for their awesome attempt... The threesome truly deserves official recognition. Why not honour them at least now through retroactive decoration?" asks the author. More 

Daring escape by IAF officers from Pak jail - Part 1

My friend M P Anil Kumar's gripping account of a daring escape by three Indian Air Force officers from a Pakistan jail. More

First time ever: IAF commissions a wheelchair-bound cadet

Herojit Rajkumar Singh, an exceptionally brilliant cadet, suffered serious injuries to his spinal cord in a flying accident during training in 2011. In a trend-setting gesture, the IAF, has retained him, though he is paralyzed waist downwards.  He is now a Flight Lieutenant, perhaps the first such instance of a wheelchair-bound cadet being commissioned by any of the armed forces in the world.

Here is the story of Herojit by M P Anil Kumar.

"Even though the armed forces need to maintain a fit profile, not every soldier needs to be on the front; the organization has to deploy hundreds in the offices. That is, instead of throwing disabled soldiers to the wolves, they can be retrained for sedentary tasks, especially for the computer-driven workplace, and be made useful cogs in the organization," says Anil.

A prolific writer, Anil Kumar, was a former fighter pilot and is my friend and school-mate. He himself is a paraplegic, paralyzed neck downwards, since 1988.

Read about M P Anil Kumar here.