'Well-behaved women seldom make history'

Attitude is like hair colour. Properly done, it can be spectacular; badly handled, it's a disaster. On Centre Court last Wednesday, Sania Mirza's attitude blazed like her tints of Burnished Copper.
Her T-shirts make her policy statements. After winning the first round, she wore one which said, 'Attitude Unlimited'. After the second, that slogan was missing, but not the bra-free bravura.Emblazoned across her was the title of this piece.
I watched that match in a chaos of feelings. Our girl was so strong and so self-confident that rooting for her seemed superfluous, even presumptuous. The commentators abandoned the facade of objectivity, going all out for her, but she was no underdog. She wasn't defensively putting up a fight; she was aggressively giving Svetlana's ham-like hamstrings a run for their reputation. Kuznetsova's expressions said loud, clear and often sullenly that it wasn't the US Open champion, but the defeated-at-Dubai US Open Champion who was out there, trying desperately not to be out-Sania-ed a second time. I found it as confusing to find the right expression to describe the outcome. Sania "bowed out"? Bah! Was she "defeated"? Nah! Kuznetsova delivered a brilliant clinching volley, sure, but it was only a win on a technical advantage. Sania wasn't worn down physically or, more important, mentally. She confessed later to the previous night's jitters about being on Centre Court, but it was the champion who seemed to be feeling the heat, both Centigrade and psychological. Sania not only bore up under the pressure, she turned it on full pelt. Obviously in tennis, Paradise would be lost by anyone who thinks they can serve and only stand and wait.
Sania, as a player, is a one-woman thriller, but what she represents as a person is infinitely edgier. Her depth-charges socked me between the eyes, but what socked me between the ears, and has left them ringing since, was the remark of a commentator in the penultimate set. Not the individual "Gee-Gosh!" one about "There's a new young star of tennis, and you're watching her", but the generic "Here's Sania displaying the fighting Indian spirit!"
I wheeled around. Who? Us? "Indian spirit" was strange enough, but "fighting Indian spirit?" Weren't we the guys always despaired of for lacking the killer instinct. Yet, here was this man not saying that Sania was an exception; he said it as though genocide was our distinctive gene. Whoah! Muuuah!! If I could have crashed through the TV screen, and hugged that disembodied voice, I would have. God swear!
That's when I realized that Sania's value as a symbol outclasses her iconic status as a player. She stands for what is not just a new generation, but a whole new species. One which could only have emerged at this point in Indian Standard Time. Unburdened by 'I should', it's driven by 'I can'. Post-national, me-first ("I play for myself — and my country"). Bred on choices, risk-taking, mould-breaking, demanding. Carnal in its appetite for success. And no pussyfooting on any of this. On the contrary, ready to be an alley-cat if that's what it takes. Accelerate the world, we want to jump on.
HHH
Alec Smart said: "Why did S M Krishna send back Maharashtra's bar ordinance? Because a governor doesn't dance to a minister's tune."
Erratica and Juggling Act, compilations of best of Erratica and Jugular Vein, now available at leading bookstores. Or log on to www.books.indiatimes.com.