Dearest Darling Friends,

 

On June 11, 1997, Michael Jordan walked onto the court for Game 5 of the NBA Finals.

 

The series was tied 2-2.

 

The stakes? As high as you can imagine.

 

But Jordan’s body was in open rebellion—fever raging like a furnace, fatigue weighing him down like wet sand, dehydration turning every step into a desert march.

 

Most would have stayed home.

 

Jordan stepped onto the court.

 

From the outside, it was clear: the captain was steering through violent waves with barely any wind in his sails. Yet, for 44 of the 48 minutes, he refused to drop anchor. And yet…

 

• Scored 38 points
• Swiped 3 steals
• Pulled down 7 rebounds
• Dished out 5 assists
• Even blocked a shot

 

He was like a knight who fights with both sword and shield, even when his armour is cracking.

 

And then, with less than a minute left, came the dagger. Jordan gathered the ball, his legs heavy as if each muscle was wading through wet cement. He rose for the shot — not with the spring of a fresh body, but with the will of a man refusing to surrender.

 

The ball left his fingertips like a comet breaking free from gravity, spinning in a perfect arc under the roaring stadium lights. Time seemed to pause — the fever, the fatigue, the noise — all dissolving into that one breathless moment.

 

The ball reached its peak, began its slow descent, and kissed the net with a sharp swish.

 

The crowd erupted. The game was sealed. And Jordan, spent but victorious, had just carved another legend into basketball history.

 

That night, the “Flu Game” became more than just a chapter in NBA history—it became a monument to grit.

 

It became living proof that sometimes the most heroic victories aren’t when you feel invincible, but when you feel broken and step into the arena anyway.

 

We were blessed to something similar in KMM this Sunday.

 

Jo was cramping heavily. She felt as if every ounce of energy had been sucked out of her by some energy vampire. (Watching too much of Twilight Zone?) It was difficult for her to walk a few steps and every cell of her body was screaming in pain.

 

Sunday should have been an ideal rest day.

 

But, it was Session 4 of KMM. ( www.mykmm.org )

 

She pushed aside all pains and the weak thoughts that screamt and said, ‘You won’t be able to do it.’

She took the session like a woman on a mission.

 

She told herself, “Pain means nothing. Purpose means everything.” And she launched herself into her best performance so far.

 

She joked.
She teased.
She made everyone laugh.
She made every one see light.
She shared about her experiences about communication.
She launched an initiative that will touch at least 11,000 soldiers lives.
She made everyone in the audience proud of our nation and inspired everyone to be a patriot.

 

She lived like Martina Navratilova’s definition of a champion – ‘How well I play on my bad day defines the kind of a champion I am’.

 

She mesmerised the audience.

 

I knew about her pain. At times I was pensive. At all times I was proud of her.

 

She inspired me. She is my Michael Jordan. This session was her ‘flu game’.

 

Am blessed I was a witness to a ‘monument of grit’ being created.

 

With love, prayers and best wishes,