Why I joined Karate..

I had been a neurotic all my life, dreaming about things that are impossible to happen. Well! Almost. It happened to be one such dream, being a Karate Ka.

I derived inspirations from whatever I saw, what I ever got to know. A movie, a cricket match, an architecturally mastered building, a story, a painting, be it anything, I lived a life where I was the hero. I would be a guy who bashes up 100 thugs in a row or a player who hits six in each ball faced. I, designed the greatest building ever built, directed super hit movies, wrote stories that laurels Pulitzer, drew a portrait as real as a photograph, edited a movie I saw, lived a billionaire and it went on and on and on. I related myself to everything around that deserves attention. After all I could be a hero only in my life and always knew that I could only be a supporting actor in others life, most of the time, a comedy role. I found those things would never happen but hated to discover reality, when such was the happiness in dreaming.

I realised at times that my dreams were overtaking my life. But it was less adequate, the realization. The nuances of inadequacy seemed so unpredictable, as I was so obsessed with those dreams.

Was it coz I’m alone?

I started feeling lonely as I started realizing. I was forced to be lonely. It was not my fault for not having friends now, as I always had a celebrating group of friends.

I fed the grudge to give me comfort. It started taming me. I was cuddled in its comfort, as it taught me all evils, worst of all, self-sympathy. I began hating people.

Physically, I was living in a concrete jungle. The rest of the world was so mystical; I hardly stole time to intrude through the other side. It was a fairy tale, with lights glittering, bikes vrooming, angels walking along the lanes, and all. Any sound other than that of diesel gensets, concrete pumps, breakers, drillers, hammers was music to me.

Gimme a break!

Get me outta here. I was waiting like a gazelle in a lions hold, making valiant attempts to free myself.

Until one day.

“THINK KARATE. THINK SHIHAN HUSSAINI. NO FURTHER.”

The grudge announced that it’s just another graffiti. Let me try one last time before quitting.

“Am I speaking to Shihan Hussaini?”

“Yes sir”

I was in.



Now I have a home away from home.