Skip to main content

Tiger Woods never signed up to teach moral science lessons


Here’s something I bet you didn’t know – Tiger Woods’ infidelities caused shareholders losses in the range of 5-12 billion. Now, picture this if you will- multi-trillionaire superstar is looking forward to an all night orgy. But instead of worrying about contacting herpes, impregnating willing women or being secretly taped, he has to worry how his sexcapades will affect the lives of shareholders. That’s cause enough to deflate all built up enthusiasm. Now, picture this. The president greets shareholders with the following message – ‘Ladies and Gentleman, I’m sorry to announce that our stock has crashed because Mr.X just couldn’t keep his pants on. Next year we’ll be a tad more careful and sign up a pigeon for our product.’

Finally, finally, after many painful months, a search result on Tiger Woods doesn’t reveal a litany of his purported infidelities, the porn star mistress, the friendly neighbourhood girl, and the places he managed to copulate in. Finally, we get to read about him doing what he does best – play golf. In recent times, some of sports biggest names have not been paying attention to the Ten Commandments and have been coveting women at will. Footballer John Terry lost his captaincy and Christiano Ronaldo was bestowed with a child whose conception he probably spent hours trying to recollect. Lance Armstrong’s winning spree in the Tour De france lasted longer than his marriage. Michael Jordan doesn’t just own the mantle of being the greatest basketball player of all time but also has a plaque stashed somewhere commemorating him on the highest divorce settlement ever (168 million dollars). Closer to home, the media was awash with reports of Azharuddin’s roving eye which doesn’t seem to have dimmed with age. From leaving his wife and running into the arms of an aspiring actress to finally playing into the hands of bookies, his illustrious life has been media fodder for ages.

If sex surveys in national magazines are to be believed, everyone seems to be bonking everyone. So then why do we expect our stars to be squeaky clean and faultless? This is not a question of morality, it is a logical question. The collective population heavers a sigh of disbelief as they ask – how could he? The answer is not how couldn’t he, it is, how the heck does it matter? You cannot draw a parallel between infidelity and doping or match fixing, which affect course of play and cause irreparable damage. What I fail to comprehend is why we do we look up to our icons for lessons in moral science?

If you are looking for lessons in morality, look closer to home. There are bound to be people who aren’t participants in sex surveys and who aren’t multi-trillionaire stars. On the other hand, if you want to learn about grace, determination, fortitude, turning the tide and excellence, seek inspiration from our stars. Find out if you will, instead of what flavour condom they prefer, what ungodly time they awoke to hone their skills. See how they put personal problems and didn’t show up on Monday mornings complaining about Monday morning blues. See the hours, the lost chances, the tears, the sorrow, all of which culminate in building legendary careers.

For they signed up to give us joy and show us what’s possible. I very much doubt they signed up to give us moral science lessons.


Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When an Iyer met an Iyengar

If you see my parents, they look like the quintessential arranged marriage couple. After nearly 35 years together, they still take care not to touch each other while posing for a photograph and my mother’s smile dangles precariously between a smile and a grimace. But this image discolours the truth a tad. Some 40 years back, they met at work, fell in love and got married. The talking point of the union being mom’s status as an iyengar and dad’s as an iyer. Simply put, the iyers and the iyengars are two castes of the Brahmin community, each, when given the chance, profess superiority to each other on all counts. If you listen closely, an Iyengar talking about an Iyer will say ‘Iyer a?’ in a condescending tone. And vice versa. Mom tells me that when she told her dad about the marriage, he vowed to stand by her at any cost. Dad never told me what happened, but allow me to hazard a guess. His mother (my grandmother), threatened to go on a fast unto death. My dad threatened to go

Rasam rice

Picture courtesy - Natasha Shiggaon Luthra On some days, Bangalore weather becomes nostalgic. And for some time, everyone is permitted to live in the past. On one such June day, the sun wistfully playing hide and seek and the clouds emitting just enough raindrops for an instagram photo, the weather flirting with winter, the craving for rasam becomes telling. Rasam. Rasam rice. Whichever, doesn’t matter. First, use your fingers to make space in the middle of a heap of rice. Don’t protest when the dollop of ghee gleefully sinks into the rice. The rasam should scald, otherwise the ride isn’t worth it. The flesh on your fingers crawl when you dip them into the rasam, but trust me, keep with it. No good thing has been known to ever come easy. The impatient wait for a few seconds and an insignificant morsel is savoured. Gooseflesh ensues. Slowly but steadily, bigger portions are savoured. to enhance the experience and attain nirvana, combine it with cr

#If life were like an instagram feed

I read a quote sometime back that went something like this - "Jealously is how much fun you think they had." At some point in the evolution of social media, quality of life began to be measured by a person's social media feed. And you think that person must be having the time of their life. No dull moment. No faux pas. Every moment so tailor-made to create a thing of beauty. You will be misled into thinking that people were waking up daily to a view so beautiful that it seemed right out of a tourism guide and that every meal was a Michelin rated gourmet style offering. If life were like an instagram feed, the day would begin on a cottage in the hills, a selfie with the morning mist in the background. Breakfast wouldn't be poha, idli, sambhar or anything that bears resemblance to the ordinary or everyday. It will be crepes with chocolate sauce, some orange juice, french toast with a side of bacon and waffles with maple syrup. You could use the filter 'Rise&#