I have been in my old hometown Mumbai when we (India) played the semi-finals and finals of the last two World Cups that we won. In 2011, a ghostwriting assignment took me there. This time, it was a corporate workshop. In 2011, I missed the first over of the semi-finals against Pakistan because I hadn't yet landed in Mumbai. This time, I missed the final over of the finals against South Africa because my flight took off. Such symmetry seems unbelievable, doesn't it?
Anyway, there I was, rising quickly to 25000 feet, despondently looking at my mobile screen, wishing for a crystal ball to peek into the Kensington Oval cricket ground in Barbados. From the brink of defeat, our pacers had almost taken us to victory. Now, I was missing that crucial moment when we would either end the drought or repeat a familiar stumble at the final step.
The aircraft crossed the Queen's Necklace shoreline and took a sharp turn to the South East. I craned my neck to watch that familiar curved coastline recede into the background. I reckoned that enough time had passed for the match to have concluded. A thought occurred to me: had we won, people would be bursting crackers. Why am I not seeing any explode down there? Will the burst of crackers even be visible at this height?
I mulled over this unknown fact for a few minutes. Another thought popped up: had we won, wouldn't the captain announce it to us? After all, the aircraft was filled with people more eager to hear the news than to land safely. That could only mean one thing: we had lost.
The lights of the aircraft came on and the flight attendants began serving meals. And then, that much-awaited sound - the crackle of a microphone coming alive way ahead of schedule. It was the pilot who had heard the news from Air Traffic Control. India had won the World Cup. A wave of relief washed over me. The monkey was off our backs. While others clapped and recorded the meme-worthy moment, I looked out of the widow at a darker countryside, feeling bright.
I suddenly felt empty. I reached into my seat's pocket and fished out the book I had been reading - The Gift of Therapy by Irvin D. Yalom. As it turns out, therapy has a part to play even in moments of success and joy.
