The Ground Where Everybody Wins

Jay was now a changed man, or so he assumed. The workshop on leadership skills training had began to cast its effect on his personality. He could now sense within himself, a feeling of renewed vigor and enthusiasm to work on a new research project. He always knew that he was a highly reliable team worker. The interest he nurtured in research could now help him redistribute his passion in taking the less-traveled roads, backed with the realization that when the techniques are familiar, one must venture into new areas. For the same reason, his project head sensed that with better team leader skills, Jay would certainly strike gold. Jay, however, felt that his thirst for confidence in taking head on, the new challenge of leading a research team, was far from being quenched. He lived in constant fear that, if he could not prevent the misunderstandings that inadvertently creep in among his colleagues from gaining more frequency, they would take things to the next level of professional vendetta and meaner competition. During his days as a fresher, he had pressures mounting up, when he found how ego clashes could be handled, not through a friendly bargain, but with tact and sophisticated diplomacy. For Jay, just out of institution and his circle of peer graduate comrades, the training spell was a rough stretch of repeated musings of the pugnacious reaction from workmates towards his childish etiquette. Though he could meet with some success in dealing with infrequent squabbles at office, there were a couple of occasions which led to generating diplomatic relationships. Jay could seldom feel a cold war was being nurtured in the office.

The afternoon nap from 1PM to 5PM was making his forehead ache. Sipping hot tea, he opened wide the window and looked into the distance. A couple of parallel streets away from his apartment, is the playground maintained by the city municipality. The playground was a beautiful elliptical piece of perfectly flat land, in the midst of trees of eucalyptus. The aroma from their boughs lingered in the air around him, and the gentle breeze would carry it inside his living area.

'They don't seem like more than 10 years old', Jay thought, watching a group of young boys parking their bicycles at the gate of the playground. The boys picked two cricket bats, two sets of plastic stumps and two tennis balls, all of unbranded local make, which were carried in their bicycle carriers. A plump boy with chubby cheeks and round facial contour, sporting a bright white cap, seemed to be having trouble with pulling up his elastic trousers which kept sliding down under his belly. He led his seven young cricketing commandos from the front towards the right side of the playground. Another guy, apparently in his late teenage, lean built and tall, plucked out the cap of the plump boy and swirled it in his hand, in a seemingly, bullying gesture. His trick was short-lived, as he was an offside fielder in a match of the big boys, who pitch at the center of the playground. They are the regulars, their game starts at a fixed time shortly after noon, and playing late into the dusk, their game is usually, the longest.

Jay stood there, at his spacious windowside, watching the young soldiers getting everything set for the attack. He was interested in the team of little men who were preparing the pitch for their game. Two boys carried the stumps and thrust each set  at the batsman and bowler ends. Another boy picked a sharp-edged stone and drew the creases at both ends of the pitch. The plump boy placed three stones at the right outer edge of the pitch and laid the ground rules, loudly enough - 'Here is the boundary! Full-toss over and above the stone would be a six! And single pitch catch out!'. With the last revelation from the self-proclaimed captain, the rest of the players went into mutual discussion on the game plan. The plump boy then tossed a coin. Boys sorted themselves into two teams and the game started. 

Jay's phone let out a repetitive beep. The screen lit up for a reminder alert - 'Presentation of pilot study findings at 10AM tomorrow'. For a second, Jay was perplexed, but, decided on keeping the window open, for, closing it would mean cutting off from the pleasant evening air of  Mother Nature and settling for the artificial ventilation of the conditioned air inside. He was never the one to compromise on free services from the unfabricated environment. He pulled his laptop out from the drawer and hopped over his bed, giving finishing touches to the presentation that he had been working on since couple of weeks. The voices of boys turned into faint echoes inside his head. Now that he had seen the players in the team, he desired to know who won the match. But, first things first.

The game went on for two hours and the plump boy's team faced defeat at the hands of the opposite team. Jay was at his window again, a spectator for two big events, unfolding around him, one more spectacular than the other. Sun was gearing down behind the mountains afar, packing in the penultimate glow, bidding the daily farewell to world, the largest playground ever known to mankind. Closer still, the boys were placing their bats, stumps and balls on their bicycle carriers and pedaled their way home. Shortly after they left, the big boys bid adieu to each other and the playground was empty.

It did not take long for darkness to fall and air grew cold. Jay stood there, looking into unfathomable depths of the dusk. The playground was as sleepy as a deserted auditorium, without the artists and the audience, till tomorrow, when the troops would march in again, for a new game. The match never ends without a winner, the champion who would ultimately lift the trophy, and a loser, the vanquished who would live another day in perseverance and hope. Nevertheless, winners and losers survive only as long as the game goes on, for when the game ends, the stadium must be evacuated.

Jay could not forget the attitude of the plump boy on the field. He had learned to overcome his deficiencies. His mind reverberated - Every leader is first a winner, not of the game he is leading his men into, but over his own shortcomings.