September 5, 2009 (2:17pm) - I received a message on Facebook from Aroosa Masroor
“Hello Mr. Srivastava, this is Aroosa from Dawn.com Karachi (Pakistan). One of our colleagues and a Senior Journalist Asif Noorani wants your permission to use a comment on your blog - Instablogs - about Shahid Afridi. He is working on a book that is due to be published soon. Can you kindly contact him at (email id) at your earliest? Will appreciate your help in this regard. Thanks.”
I read the mail again as my Facebook inbox wasn’t used to such meaningful mails.
This one seemed to have too much info and I read it just after having lunch in my office. The drowsiness instantly disappeared as I read the mail again. Mr Srivastava, Aroosa, Dawn, Pakistan, Asif Noorani, Instablogs were the keywords I noticed. And I read the mail again! Senior Journalist Mr. Asif Noorani wants my PERMISSION to publish one of my articles in his book? Was someone kidding with me on Teachers Day? I immediately searched for Asif Noorani on Google and got a link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asif_Noorani which made me realise about Mr. Noorani’s personality.
Without wasting a minute, I mailed him asking for further details. He mailed me back saying he liked my article which was published on Instablogs (which I wrote for free) and was willing to use it in his soon-to-be-published book. Some of the other major contributors in the book would be legendary Pakistani cricketers Zaheer Abbas, Wasim Akram and some senior cricket writers. After seeking the permission of Instablogs' editor, Mr. Noorani was free to use my article in his book.
Way back in 2010, it was nothing less than a dream for me. I was supposed to be published in a book - whose author was a renowned writer from Pakistan - who, out of the millions of articles available on the Internet, chose mine for his book. I told this to my parents, sister and they thought I was kidding (nobody takes me seriously as you all know). I then had to show them the emails I exchanged with Mr. Noorani.
Mr Noorani had promised me that he would courier me a copy of the book from Pakistan (with his signature) and since then, each and every day, I would call my masi in Faridabad (her address was the one I had mentioned to Mr. Noorani).
One day, when I was asleep in a cab on my way to the office, my cell phone rang as I saw those 3 golden words “Shanno Mausi Calling!” My body language changed within a second and the driver stared at me as if I jumped out on the DND flyover! “Hello Suyash,” she said. “Namaste Shanno Mausi,” was my reply. Now, I didn’t ask her this time if the book had arrived and I waited for her response. “How are you?” she asked. “I am good,” I responded. Short questions were followed by short answers and while I thought it was one of those regular calls, she said, “Ek courier aaya hai Pakistan sey..." Yesssssssssssssssss! Yessssssssssssss!! I knew it was THE gift from Pakistan! The way I screamed, woke up the passengers snoring on the back seats. They were soon asleep thinking I was a maniac. The poor driver could not decipher what was wrong with me. “It’s the book Shanno Mausi, the book from Mr. Noorani I told you?”, “Achha??? Wahi book hai kya?? Ruko dekhte hain,” she said as she unpacked it. “Arey beta 3rd page par he tumhara naam chhapa hai! Wasim Akram, Zaheer Abbas ka bhi naam hai. It’s a big achievement Suyash beta! Naam roshan kar diya tumne!”
I rarely get speechless, but it had to be one of those rare beautiful moments.
My hands were shivering when I held the book. It was no less than a Man of the Match award for me. I imagined how a batsman feels after receiving his first trophy. Due to the busy schedule in Delhi, I wasn’t able to play cricket, so I decided to write cricket-related articles, as, by doing so, I felt connected with the game. Even though those articles were published for free, the satisfaction I derived by reading them, can’t be achieved through money or described in words.
I had never thought that a writer from Pakistan would someday award my love for the game in a memorable manner. That's the magic of blogging I think.
'Boom Boom Afridi' reminds me of all those days when I used to play gully cricket with my friends. It reminds me of all those days when I cried after India lost a match or got upset after Tendulkar got out in the nervous nineties. This achievement is dedicated to my parents, my sister - who have always encouraged my passion for the gentleman's game. I would thank all my buddies who have made cricket so special to me. Thanks to all those, who understand what cricket means to me. Last and not least, I will always be indebted to Mr. Nooraani, for giving an aspiring sports journalist's article, a memorable space in his wonderful book. ‘Boom- Boom Afridi’ is indeed very special for me. It doesn’t include just one of my articles, it has a journey, has my love for the game since my childhood days. It’s not just a book…
