A spectator's view

Last week when Roger was playing that incredulous match against Roddick, there was special focus on Merka, his gal for obvious reasons. She's the one behind the man has never been a secret. He performs right in front of numerous audience, including her. Everyone watch Roger, she examines him. Most observe him, she reads him. Few analyze his moves, she knows them even before he makes them.

Being his family and professional help, she takes the most comfortable seat to watch him performing. Look at the picture and what seems is:  The guy struggling on the court to get through and this lady seated cozily enjoying the match along with millions of fans, she being one of them. It's fun, amazing fun. The roller coaster ride from winning moments to losing ones as a fan. That is all! Is it?

A spectator! Just a spectator?

Superficial observations and callous thinking! She's actually fastened to that chair, there might be numerous occasions where she would love to run onto the court to help him.  She has her mouth sealed though the voice within is struggling to put across a message. She's as excited and as nervous as him. She has definitely got more butterflies in her tummy. She's like the one who knows the way, knows how to drive, yet has to leave the steering to him. She's like the mother who lets her child fall down, to see him stand on his own. She isn't playing on center court, still she's the one who is playing without her presence on the court.

I know, all this is would be very easily rubbished off. It's just the ill-effect of my deep-thinking syndrome. "Roger plays - she watches" is all! "Roger plays - she experiences" is overstatement! Exaggeration! Why? Another cliche to the rescue, "Seeing is believing". Sigh!

People think in binary numbers, these days!

There is sun, there is rain! What about those hours when it is neither sunny nor it is raining. Clouded, wind blowing into face and the humidity suffocating, what is it? Sun or rain?

Laugh and cry! Simple! What about those moments when a simple pleasure turns as smile, widens a bit before tears start from nowhere. Or what about those smiles that are hard to hid, when the tears are still streaming?

There is my pain and your pain! Oh yeah, your  and mine. We're two individuals - you and I. Logically, its your pain and my pain. And brooding over why my pain disturbs you or why is that I'm weakend by your pain is mere time waste. It's your pain, you've all the rights over it! I'm permitted only to the gallery of your laughter. 
 
There is life, there is death! Person talked about in terms of  "is" or "was"! You might brush with death, if you're drowning. Be on the shore as a spectator and let yourself watch your loved one struggling to stay afloat! Fun, I tell you. That is the fun. Because, it won't kill you! It just doesn't let you live. Its worse than death, but yeah you'll be counted among the living. And also, it will not be counted as your pain.

Being a spectator with hands and legs fastened with limitations, eyes wide open, heart crying out whereas the tongue's tied, you're mind at work understanding every single detail - this is fun. Fun as in stopping oxygen to me every few seconds, as in stretching my heart's chord and leave it ruthlessly, as in ..If all this was scripted, I wanna murder him for being so cruel, to ever create this spectator's role!

If life is a drama, why I'm forced to witness others' drama without any key role in it? Why my role is so damn limited, that I start feeling helpless, ridiculous and what not? It's not my drama, why am I even there?