World Record

Should I blame my parents?

Should I blame the instructor?

I know it is almost 50 years back and the statute of limitations will perhaps not permit me to pursue any formal redressal, but it cannot stop me from feeling bad. And shedding tears over missed opportunities.

Should we (parents, my sister and I, anyone) have known better?

In my defence, we were young. I was perhaps 12 years old. My sister 10.

A Yog Ashram (Ashram translates to a hermitage or retreat, in this case devoted to Yog (also spelt as Yoga in English by people unable to stop at ‘g’)) had recently opened up in our neighbourhood. It was decided by the elders of the family that the Head of that Ashram would come home every evening and take my sister and me through a series of Yogic exertions and exercises for an hour. The sessions included instructions on diet which our mother dutifully listened to and carried out, much to our chagrin. Dinner on some days consisted only of raw salad. Remember, we were 10 and 12 years old.

These sessions went on for about a month. Why they started I came to understand much later. The Head of the Ashram was trying to curry favour with our grandfather who was an influential person, and what better way than to home-school his grandchildren in Yogic practices. Why they stopped I don’t know, but I presume that the objective was achieved over that month.

In a way, we were guinea pigs. But happy guinea pigs.

We came to like and enjoy the sessions, for the period they lasted. And that is probably why I can recollect them even after almost 50 years. A healthy competition had also emerged between my sister and I as we tried to outdo each other in performing the sometimes complex exercises.

But why should you believe me?

Have I presented to you a certificate saying that I participated in sessions of Yog when I was 12 years old? And that we did it every day for 30 days? Even if the certificate was not ‘proudly awarded’ to us.

Have I shared with you a letter of excellence stating that my sister outdid me in doing the Vajrasan but I bested her in doing the Shirshasan? Even if we did not create a ‘world record’ by doing so.

I could have had 30 certificates of participation, one for each day. Maybe more. As we did multiple exercises each day.

As could my sister.

Another instance of missed opportunities!

These memories have come flooding back to me as I have seen social media today being flooded with certificates shared by ardent devotees of Yog. And not any certificates but certificates issued by Habuild. And not merely awarded but proudly awarded. Not merely for achieving a level of excellence but for participating. That is how difficult the attainment of this certificate is.

Habuild who?

A private company, as I understand from a Google search.

What authority do they have to issue this certificate?

Does it matter, you doubters? The certificates have been issued, and that is what matters.

But what good are they? They cannot, for instance, be sold on a marketplace for certificates like a stock exchange, can they?

In case you did not already know, today is World Yoga Day. And these ardent devotees are being flooded back with the heartfelt love of their family and friends with messages of “Happy for you” and “Well done” and “You make us proud” and “I knew you could do it.”

And then rinse, repeat, as the next ardent devotee shares his/ her certificate.

That is how good they are.

People, common people, like you and me, but not including me, have been busy setting world records by participating in World Yoga Day with Habuild. Other common people, meanwhile, like my sister and I, have been doing things for fun and enjoyment and some sibling rivalry.

A world record is a world record; not to be scoffed at. And you thought only the fastest sprint and highest jump and tallest mountain and most goals could be world records?

Clearly, think again.

A certificate is a certificate. Especially one issued by Habuild. None of the above-named worthies have one issued by Habuild, do they?

Move over Usain Bolt. Move over Mount Everest. Move over Armand Duplantis. Move over Cristiano Ronaldo.

Opens up avenues. Expect world records being created through participation and certificates proudly awarded in various events in the upcoming Paris Olympics. We could all try for one.

It is a sad tale of what could have been…

We (my sister and I) could have got certificates for creating a world record by participating in eating vegetables on some nights.

We could have got certificates for creating a world record by participating in sleeping in our beds on most nights.

We could have got certificates for creating a world record by participating in playing hopscotch in our backyard after school.

Certificates. Real things. Not merely fun and enjoyment. I cannot forward to you my fun and enjoyment, can I? On what basis will you share your heartfelt “Happy for you” and “Well done” and “You make us proud” and “I knew you could do it” homilies with us?

Such events serve as a rude awakening. Hopefully to make us more aware, better human beings.

Which I am now.

I am planning to apply for a certificate for a world record for being a participant among the largest number of people in the world who are not thinking about me at this moment. I reckon it should be pretty close to 7.5 billion.

No, that does not sound right. I will be thinking about me, so I cannot be a participant.

How about a certificate for a world record for participating in and being the only human in the world at this point in time thinking about me?

Do you think Habuild will issue me a certificate for this world record?

Or at least for making them known to a few more people?