Into the Void

10 August 2005 - A day I wont forget for some time yet. The day started off early. First up was a meeting - my last MCA meeting. I give away certificates and gifts to everyone present. Then I decide to make my farewell speech.

I decided to actually prepare a speech...the only time I would have done this in my 12 months as G.Sec of the MCA (excluding the Marathi Moot speech of course). I stared at the computer screen for some 2 hours the night before...trying very hard to channel my thoughts into one clear line. Didn't happen. And so, my last speech would be ad lib as usual. All my other Votes of Thanks have either been entirely extempore or written on the dais while the Chief Guest droned on endlessly.

I start off explaining the state of affairs regarding my speech. All good so far. Then the lump forms in the throat and somebody asks "Shreyas, are you crying?"
I say "No, but I'm going to."

The only other sentence I manage is "GLC's been the MCA". Not quite my eloquent best, yet profound methinks.

I usually don't cry and certainly not in public. The last time I can remember crying publicly was on 10 March 1998. This was when I was still in Delhi. We had a special assembly for one of the people who worked in the school office. He was my mentor of sorts - intoducing me to adventure sports and even teaching me some of the finer points of cricket. He had died in a road accident on the 5th. I get through 3 lines of my prepared speech, break down on stage in front of the whole school and walk off to storm into the loo to wash my face and give an exam 15 minutes later.

The MCA has been my whole life over the past 3 years and certainly over the past 2. There are very few things that I'm so passionate about and the MCA hits the top of that list. Amma later told me that she wasn't surprised that I broke down. I expected a lump in my throat, but definitely not uncontrollable sobbing. I can't figure what happened, except that it was quite a draining experience.

In the middle of all this, everyone present stood up and gave me an ovation...something that I would have enjoyed a lot more had I been able to actually see it without all the water in the eyes. And suddenly, all the applause, all the pats on the back from people I hardly know, all the congratulation letters after DMH, all the personal pride that I derived from all that we've achieved meant nothing.

There is no greater tribute to a person than to be appreciated by one's peers. It's the feeling you get when you walk back from playing the innings of your life on a cricket field and your whole team has lined up at the edge of the field to applaud you as you walk back. All the applause from the measly number of spectators, the "well done's" from the opposing team, the "badhiya beta" from the coach are meaningless. It's all that you ever want; to have people just like you appreciate your efforts, your sacrifices, your achievements and you as a person above everything else.

If any of you'll who were there that day are reading this (fat chance!), thank you. Those 30 seconds were worth all the sacrifices and endless madness.

A little after that, I had my elections for the college's General Secretary. After a painfully drawn out process involving lenghty minute taking, I lose it by one third preference vote.

Suddenly, I feel drained. There's this huge void in front of me. The MCA is gone...the only thing I was even considering doing this year in College isn't happening either. It was like the doors of the College I've done so much with were shut. A bit all-over-the-place, the rest of the day goes through without incident. Deep down I'm rather thankful that I lost the election. At least I can get on with my life now.

But I diagnose myself to be clinically depressed. So I take the ultimate medicine - long walk with A & A. I get back home after about three hours with them and I'm already feeling better. Another hour or so of time-wastage on Grand Theft Auto, and I'm feeling good enough to sleep.

The next few days haven't been great either. There's this tremendous void in my life that I'm struggling to come to terms with. I've devoted 12 hours a day for nearly the past 3 years to College and suddenly its all gone. I still have responsibilities and can easily take on more. But the question is whether I want to, whether I will still have the passion to see things out to their finality, to the point where I feel I've done all I could.

I can't answer that question. My heart and inertia say keep going. Rational thought says get on with your life. The two don't mix.

I'm tired. I don't think I'll ever be able to conjure up the kind of effort that it took to make DMH international; to stand up to all the pressure when we revolutionised mooting in GLC; to listen to every idiot, mooter or not, put down a dream; to face the 3 High Court judges the Monday after Chagla; to tell myself "keep going...it's worth it" when nothing told me I could or that there would be any payback at the end; to see an organisation of 50 plus individuals run ragged and know that you've probably pushed too far. Above all, I can't see myself feeling as passionately about anything in this College again.

It's been an incredible 12 months - 12 months that I will never forget. A roller coaster ride that's reached a number of crests and an equal number of troughs.

The important thing is that each crest was high enough to keep the car going through the trough that followed.