“What sports facilities can she participate in?” I asked, pointing at my little girl. But my mind was stuck on the project I wanted to submit to my office. I checked my phone, and the mail with the file attached was still sitting there, unsent.
It was a dream project, and I wanted the approval of my immediate boss. I knew the project was strong. So did he. But he would not officially come on board, because if it failed, he would take the blame too. And without his yes, I was not sure I believed in it myself.
The teacher looked at my child and smiled. “Come, let me show you the campus first.”
We were on a school tour, trying to finalise a school for my 2-year-old daughter.
The teacher led us towards the sports arena, and we followed. My daughter kept staring at everything new as we walked through the gate.
The teacher stopped near the basketball court. “This is the largest basketball court of any school in the city,” she said with a satisfied smile. We smiled and nodded.
My daughter spotted a few balls kept along the way and wanted to check them, so my wife waited with her. The teacher wanted me to continue the tour, so she showed me the cricket ground, the football ground next to it, the swimming pool and the other sports arenas.
I watched children play different games and was impressed with how much the school cared about sports along with academics.
“Every child picks one sport. Then we have coaches to train the child for it,” the teacher said, pointing at the basketball coach.
The coach passed balls to the students. Every child would pick up a ball, look at the coach, wait for his nod, and only then try to put it in the basket. Some made it, but most did not.
The teacher excused herself to talk to another parent, and I stayed and watched.
The girls and boys stood in a line on one side of the court, chatting and waiting for the coach to call their names. Every now and then, the coach showed his technique again for the kids who had missed.
One girl caught my eye. She must have been seven or eight, and she stood with the other girls without chatting, her eyes moving from one child to the next as if she was studying them.
“Ashish,” the coach called, waving at a boy. It was his turn.
The girl walked to the ball instead.
Her eyes were on the basket. Not on the coach.
She picked up the ball. She bounced it once. Twice. “It’s Ashish’s turn. Didn’t you hear?” the coach snapped. She did not turn.
She stepped back. Further than any other kid had stood. The chatter around the court faded. She raised the ball. Her knees bent. Her fingers spread across the leather. She did not look at the coach for his nod of approval. She did not look at anyone.
The ball left her hands.
It rose in a slow arc. For a moment, the entire court seemed to wait. Then it dropped through the net without touching the rim.
I clapped out of instinct before I could think, but no one else did. She looked at me and smiled.
When their turns were over, the students were supposed to cross to the other side of the court. This girl did not even glance at the coach. She walked back and stood with the girls, as if she was waiting for her name to be called.
The coach threw his hands in the air. “You took Ashish’s turn. Now, you are not getting your chance,” he said to her.
I looked at the girl. Her eyes stayed on the basket. Not on him. Not even for a second.
The others took their shots half-heartedly, glancing at the coach after every throw as if asking if it was okay.
Then, the coach called another girl’s name, and again this girl picked up the ball, bounced it twice and put it in the basket almost perfectly. She did this four or five times, and every ball went in.
The coach’s jaw was tight, but he did not stop her.
When the teacher returned, she found me watching the girl and applauding. “I am sorry. I am not insulting the coach. I am just trying to appreciate her skill.”
The teacher smiled. “Her name is Karen. Quite a free spirit.”
I just smiled.
“Do you take action against such kids?” I looked at the teacher.
“Karen excels at everything she puts her mind to. She is the city’s top basketball player now, after being a top player in badminton for the last few years,” the teacher said. She returned my smile, paused, then said, “Karen isn’t disrespectful. She just doesn’t need anyone’s approval to succeed, and that’s her strength.”
My wife walked up with our daughter in her arms. My daughter held a small ball in both hands, her eyes fixed on it.
The teacher motioned to continue the school tour. But my eyes remained glued to Karen and the lesson she taught me.
My mind went back to the project and what I wanted to accomplish. I took out my phone, opened the mail and sent it.
A basketball rolled to my feet. I picked it up and looked at the basket. I bounced it twice.
My knees bent. My eyes stayed on the rim. I did not look around.
The ball left my hands.
It rose slowly, higher than I expected. For a moment, everything around me went quiet. Then it dropped through the net without touching the rim.
I heard someone clapping.
I looked up. It was Karen. She smiled.
Isn’t your power limitless when you stop seeking the approval of others?
The Mindset of Crisis Management
The Mindset of Crisis Management: Caring For Yourself and Others During Times of Crisis
