Ode To Gymnastics

By RAJGOPAL NIDAMBOOR

“S/he who has blended the serious with the pleasing has satisfied everyone.”

-- With apologies to Horace

Just think of it. We are all hypnotised -- or, “gymnotised?” -- by those supple nerds, who are humanly superhuman, irrespective of whether or not we follow the rules, techniques, and the general chemistry of it all.

More than that, it’s an amazing allure out there. It is about art, captivating physique, subtlety, or transforming sensual appeal, and also the very defiance of gravity. More so, because every gymnast’s sublime hardness has it all: such flexible athletes, they have put it all together, and they really know what to do best -- as only best can be. As simple as that? Not so simple, really!

Act Sublime

Gymnastics is, in essence, a sublime natural act. It’s splendid; but also deceptive, thanks to the gymnast’s amazing ability to overtly defy the compulsions of the physical world. What’s more, a gymnast is also a conqueror -- s/he has no burden of “adult responsibility.” S/he is true to her/his sport -- a sport that is, indeed, a perfect mix -- a hybrid of sporting ability and magical allegory.

Our hearts leap into our mouths when we see gymnasts perform incredible movements, or fall off from the beam. More so, when they land, for the Perfect-10. “Viola!” But, a slight aberration or mistake? Things can go awry, even disastrous: like the sad mishap that paralysed a 17 year old Chinese gymnast, and an Indian gymnast, during a training session, not long ago, to cull just two examples.

And, then there are the images. The sinewy calf muscles, projectile shoulder blades, the juts-in, juts-out, as the thigh muscle “extends” around the kneecap, and the outstretched right arm conveys the spirit of participation to the referees, and the audience. Or, think of the sprint, down the runway, to the “vaulting horse” -- and, that glorious countenance of achievement, or otherwise, which emanates just a split-second before landing. It is all commonplace, yes; but, always customarily fascinating, no matter the number of replays.

You may also see a flood of tears, either way -- after a triumph or missed opportunity, since gymnasts are “born” with a difference. They bewail outside their headband. They are like missiles, or engines -- rockets of freedom and ambivalence. Add to this rhythmical music, and these nerds of gymnastics have a sense of being, which they may not have really understood as yet.

Not that there aren’t too many men, in gymnastics, who also emit that aura of propped up charm around them, but it is always the little girls that “hold” the audience with their innate beauty, coyness, and mystery. They relate with your emotions: your very own spectrum of consciousness, with an attached sense of detachment.

Truly Gripping

Gymnastics is truly compelling, what with its host of captured images: a gymnast chalking up his/her hands during a practice session, with his/her “headgear” in place, and the conspicuous bandage on the ankle, or wrist. They, in more ways than one, convey just one thing -- the act of achieving a greater degree of concentration, and the integral vision for better mind/body co-ordination, language, grammar, syntax, equanimity, and “divine” grace.

Gymnastics is about nature. It is also about nurture -- a lifetime committed to the refinement of the most specialised of skills. One, which has the beauty and truth of mathematics, a super-duper alchemy of precision, perfection, and excellence, juxtaposed by a stupendous element of bionic energy, and human power. It pokes and provokes your intelligence, and imagination. It also has mind-over-matter analogy -- a dress rehearsal of cultivating innate strength, and open endowment, all replete with more than an element of cultured responsiveness, and fulsome brilliance of a laser beam.

Gymnastics is about nerves, too, not so much about its infamous corollary -- anabolic steroids, or performance-boosting miracle concoctions, which have brought the sport some disrepute. But, not every gymnast is a “black” sheep. More than a handful of gymnasts are true to themselves, and the sport -- the real ornaments of the game. Their legacy will continue to inspire others -- and, for all time to come. Such a bestowal will never fade. Such legacies are for all seasons. They are imperishable, and even indestructible.

Gymnasts always whoop in our head, when they go up in the air, lock into action, perform something incredible, but believable, and blow the “conch,” at the summit of their achievement -- with peaceful silence, and without violence. They are like poetry in motion, and prose in fruition: a revelation of William Shakespeare and Walter Scott; of Kalidas and Rabindranath Tagore; of Walt Whitman and Octavio Paz.

Matrix Of Reality

What makes gymnasts so special is their level of participation, and commitment: the ability to coquette with their audience, and giggle in response. And, the feedback? The deafening applause: of innumerable palms that “beat” as one. Your own. This is also what that makes gymnastics unique. Novel. Eternal. Splendid. A matrix of dreams -- where fantasy becomes reality, and vice versa -- whichever way you look at it.

So, the big question. Can you beat gymnastics with any other sport? And, those little girls, who are acrobatic divas that propel you to get out there, from your couch, seat, sofa, stool, chair, divan, or whatever, at the stadium or home, and compel you to actually get moving -- with the performers -- as it were. No need to “go figure.” You know the truth only too well: just as much as the gymnasts themselves.

It sums up the sport -- or, the art of thinking with movements. A script of harmony, not necessarily sound -- but, the very sound of being itself.