It was a year of successes, of laudatory messages and encomiums aplenty. The media had its fill of all the heroes and soon-to-be heroes. It also cried out loud for yesterday’s heroes, many from the halogen world of cricket. But if there was one chicken soup story to be told and retold, it was of one Jeev Milkha Singh. Because it is a story of courage, of tenacity, of rising from the ashes; a story, quite simply, of life. And because it is a story that needs to be told. Just the other day he was this man from the past, with sepia-tinted memories of happier times. He was living his life quietly, away from the Indian glare. Then, suddenly, the face began to stare out at you again, so very often. From websites, newspapers, magazines, invariably with a trophy, smiling at the camera. Golfing aficionados were wearing those enigmatic ‘I told you so’ grins too, as the fraternity gloated. “It had to happen,” Jyoti Randhawa said, “what with so much talent in tow.” But seven years isn’t a blip. Seven years downhill can kill the best of them. How does a man come back from the dead? How heavy is a seven-year wait?When you look at the pictures today, his eyes strike you first, their sense of calm and relaxed confidence. It doesn’t reflect how he spent seven long years in the wilderness. Instead, they tell the tale of how to shatter the ‘glass ceiling’, tell Indian golfers a new story.Jeev Milkha Singh spent a good deal of time with The Indian Express the other day, recounting those years and his fight with himself. He was relaxed, laughing at every half-joke, patiently going through an array of interesting outfits in a photo-shoot. Then he settled down in an arm-chair. “It was a struggle,” he said. “A long struggle. Isn’t easy staying in the shadows all the time, never being able to be there where they wait to applaud. Second best is just that, also-rans bear no name.” It isn’t an easy concept for the wage-earner to appreciate. You get your cheque, you make a living, you travel, but at the end of the day you are in the land of the living dead. “I was going through my motions, day after day, month after weary month, around Japan, to Europe, and back, it was work. Life was passing me by.“It was disheartening,” he recounts.” The only thing that kept him going was his tenacity, his genes that feed on struggles. “I was moving slowly, but surely, analyzing all I did, how I did it. Somewhere, something told me, deep inside me that you must cut out the noise and concentrate on what you know, the process. It’s like aesthetics of life, on how you do it, on how you live it, on how you have learnt best to.”So he began cutting out the noise. “You see, if I look at a course from the tee and take everything in, it must be instant with me, I must know where to hit, what is the wind vector and what my goal is. Then I get down to my basics, my feet position, my swing, and I swing. Then comes the most important part. I have read what Tiger Woods once talked about: ‘When you have hit a tee shot, it is immediately out of bounds for you. You have hit it, so just forget about it.’“It makes so much sense. You don’t hang onto what you have let go, that will only interfere with your actions later on, on what action to take along the fairway and then on the green. Concentrate on the process, don’t keep thinking about ‘If I had hit it a little to the left maybe..’ that will kill the rest of it.” It is a wonderful revelation. In life you do tend to lug a lot of baggage from the past, slowing you down. It was like what Col Rajyavardhan Singh Rathore had told this correspondent soon after wining silver at the Athens Olympic Games: “In double trap, as soon as the first cartridge is fired you must have forgotten it, immediately. Or you will never be able to concentrate on the second. You train your mind to wipe it out.”Easier said than done, but Jeev achieved that. “It was a long, arduous process, and I slogged on it, through the rounds. Every time I returned to India, I would meet my yoga teacher and he would teach me a couple of new things, and I’d take it up - I’m very much into yoga. Everything adds up to the whole. And then, one day, in the China Open, it all suddenly came together, clicked. I had made it!” That was triumph over despair, over the world in general, over detractors, and, most importantly, over one’s own self. Jeev isn’t particularly used to talking about this, though he bared his heart to this daily. The smile on his face, says it all these days, not the exalted position in world golf, not the top position in Asian golf. It is a realization. Nirvana, to some.
