Cherish good times and accept bad ones

Initially, I was angry and confused, I was even repentant…,” said Yuvraj Singh after being diagnosed with germ cell cancer.
Imagine what the cricketer, who won the ‘Man of the Series’ award and, that too, after India had won the World Cup after 28 years, felt after hearing that he was sick with cancer! I can imagine him looking up and shouting, silent cricket bat in hand, “Why Me?”
Many years ago, my wife and I had driven down to the seaside with a group of friends for a holiday. One morning, we decided we would go down to the wharf and buy crabs from the seashore. We were returning in my car, when a state transport bus stopped in front of me. I realised it was the last stop and since all the people were getting off, switched off the engine and waited.
Suddenly, without warning, the bus started reversing and backed right onto the hood of my car. It happened in a jiffy, and the next moment, I was stuck in my seat with the bus nearly on my lap, windshield smashed, pedals twisted and dashboard broken.
I remember, being pulled out of my car, luckily unhurt, staring at its mangled remains and then looking to the sky and crying, “Why me?”
Yes, why me? All I had come down was for a break, a little time with family and friends; now there was nothing more to do but scrape off what was left of the car off the road. Why couldn’t I have had a holiday, like I’d wanted?
That must have been the same cry of the ‘Man of the Series’ as the cancer specialist told him that the growth was malignant. “Why me?”
There must be thousands asking the same question every day.
“Why me?” they cry when they suddenly lose their job, when sickness attacks their homes, or when jilted in love. “Why me? Why me? Oh Lord! Why me?”
A few years ago, Arthur Ashe, the legendary tennis player, was dying of AIDS. From all over the world, he received thousands of letters from his fans, one of which read, “Why did God have to select you for such a bad disease?”
To this Ashe replied: “In the world, more than 50 million children start playing tennis, 5 million finally learn to play tennis. 500,000 learn professional tennis. 50,000 come to the circuit. 5,000 reach the Grand Slam. 128 reach Wimbledon. 4 to the semifinals. 2 to the final. When I finally held the Cup, I never asked, ‘Why me?’ And likewise today, in pain, I should not be asking, ‘Why me?’”
I go back to that accident I had that I’d mentioned earlier; when I looked up and shouted, “Why me?” Had I already forgotten other wonderful picnics and lovely car rides to sea and mountain top where without calamity or catastrophe we had spent great moments with the children?
There were pieces of glass all over me, a pedal round my foot, but I got out without a scratch. Did I even think it could have been much worse? No, I didn’t. I was too lost in self pity.
Now listen to our brave Yuvraj as he says, “Why this Kolaveri Di, over my illness?”
Yes, it’s time we listen to these two brave sportsmen who in their time of deep trouble and distress have said, “Why not me? I have gone through good times and never complained about them, now why should I make a noise and create a scene over this? Why not me?” If we’ve accepted the good times and enjoyed them, then why shouldn’t we accept the ‘not-so-good times’ without succumbing to self pity?
(The author loves to write)