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ENTERING THE UNKNOWN

It was there. Two match points. Eight years later, for the second time. On twitter, I wrote, "I LOVE YOU, YOU BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL MAN" aching to hit the leftmost key on the bottom row and the rightmost key on the middle row together.
Poof! It was gone. I don't remember how it happened. I don't want to revisit and see what exactly happened. It was for the first time in many years, ten of them to be precise since that dreaded night in Rod Laver Arena, that I felt numb as a Federer fan. Over the years, I had built up enough resistance to sporting disappointments, not unlike how kauṭilya had built up candragupta maurya's resistance to poison by administering non-lethal doses of it each day. 
This was but too much to take. A record equalling 9th Wimbledon, a 21st slam. Restoring the 3 slam gap. All. Gone. Like that. Even my current most favourite white ball cricketer, Mah Man Jos Buttler, winning the 50 over World Cup half an hour later was scant consolation. Federer…

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