Beyond the World Cup-VI

Letter VI: The Greatest Trophy
My dear Parth, Viyanka, and Veyd,
This is the last letter in our little journey through the wonderful world of football.
When I wrote the very first one, the FIFA World Cup had just begun. The whole world seemed to have caught the fever of the game. Flags were flying, stadiums were filling, millions were gathering before television screens, and I wondered whether you too might be curious about this remarkable sport that could make people in so many different countries cheer, celebrate, worry and dream together.
So I began writing to you.
At first, I thought I was simply explaining football. I wanted you to know why there are eleven players on a side, what the referee's whistle means, why the World Cup is so special, how great clubs nurture young talent, why stadiums become almost sacred places for their supporters, and why some rivalries have survived for generations. Later, we travelled beyond the World Cup to discover the many clubs, competitions, stadiums and academies that keep football alive throughout the year.
But as the letters accumulated, something unexpected happened. Football slowly ceased to be the real subject. Every letter became a conversation with the three of you. While writing, I would sometimes pause and wonder what Parth might ask, what might make Viyanka curious, or what story might make Veyd smile. Without quite realising it, I had stopped writing about football alone. I was writing to my grandchildren.
And that changed everything.
You may think these letters were my gift to you. The truth, however, is quite the opposite. You gave me the gift. Every letter gave me a reason to think of you; every story made me imagine us talking together; every page became another little journey we could take in each other's company, even when cities and oceans lay between us. Distance can separate people physically, but words have a quiet magic of their own. They can cross oceans, sit beside someone we love, and preserve a moment long after the moment itself has passed.
Perhaps that is why I have always loved books. Books have taken me to forests I never entered, mountains I never climbed and civilisations that disappeared centuries before I was born. They introduced me to people I could never have met and taught me to look at the world with greater curiosity. I have come to believe that curiosity is one of life's greatest gifts. A curious mind continues to discover, to ask questions and to find delight in things that others may overlook. It can find wonder in a flower, a bird, a mountain, a scientific discovery, a story—and, of course, in a football rolling across a patch of grass.
If these letters help you retain that curiosity throughout your lives, they will have achieved far more than I ever intended.
You may also have noticed that football kept teaching us lessons that had very little to do with football. We discovered that even the most brilliant player needs teammates, that a captain needs humility as well as courage, that a defeat can sometimes teach more than a victory, and that the greatest players are those who remain willing to learn. We saw how talent needs discipline, how dreams require patience, and how success is almost always built upon countless hours of work that nobody sees.
These lessons belong everywhere, not merely on a football field.
Whether you become scientists or musicians, doctors or teachers, artists or engineers, writers or explorers—or choose a path that neither you nor I can imagine today—you will discover that worthwhile things rarely happen overnight. There will be moments when you succeed and others when you fail. There will be days when the road seems easy and days when you wonder whether you should continue. When that happens, remember the young footballer we encountered in our earlier letters: the child who kept practising after the missed pass, who returned after the lost match, who listened to the coach and tried again the next morning.
Life, too, is made up of such mornings.
During our journey we visited magnificent stadiums, famous clubs, celebrated tournaments, remarkable players and unforgettable rivalries. Yet none of these became great merely because of bricks, trophies or cheering crowds. They became great because generation after generation of ordinary people poured into them their dreams, their effort and their love. Perhaps that is true of every worthwhile human achievement. A building becomes an institution because of the people who inhabit it; a book becomes a companion because someone reads it with an open heart; and a family becomes a home because people care for one another.
Football has also reminded me of something else that I hope you will never forget: the importance of retaining the child within you.
Run when you can. Play when you can. Laugh freely. Ask questions without embarrassment. Read widely. Travel whenever the opportunity comes. Learn from people who know more than you, and help those who know less. Do not be afraid of making mistakes, because mistakes are often among life's most patient teachers. Celebrate another person's success without feeling that it diminishes your own. And whenever life gives you an opportunity to make someone else's journey a little happier, take it.
Many years from now, these letters may be resting quietly on a bookshelf. Their pages may have become a little yellow, and the excitement of the 2026 World Cup may have become a distant memory. New champions will have lifted new trophies; records we admired today will have been broken; and players whom we have never heard of may have become the heroes of a new generation. That is as it should be. Every generation must have its own heroes and write its own stories.
But perhaps, one quiet evening, one of you will take this little book from the shelf and turn its pages again. You may smile at some of Dadu's stories. You may remember the players we admired together. You may laugh at the seriousness with which I explained some things that now seem obvious. And perhaps, for a few moments, it will feel as though we are sitting together again, talking about football.
If that happens, I shall consider these letters a success.
Not because they taught you everything about football, for no series of letters ever could. But because, for a little while, they allowed a grandfather and his grandchildren to travel together through a beautiful corner of the world. They gave us something to talk about, something to discover, and something to remember. And perhaps that is what books and stories are meant to do at their best: bring people closer, even when time and distance have placed them apart.
People often ask what the greatest trophy in football is. Some will say it is the FIFA World Cup; others will name the Champions League, the Copa Libertadores, or another great prize. All of them are magnificent, and every player who lifts one has earned the right to feel proud.
But I have discovered another kind of trophy during these months. It cannot be made of gold or silver. It cannot be displayed in a museum, and it cannot be won in ninety minutes. It is the quiet happiness that comes from sharing something you love with someone you love.
That, my dear children, is the greatest trophy I have found.
And thanks to the three of you, I have been fortunate enough to lift it.
One day you will grow older. Your interests may change. Perhaps one of you will remain a passionate football fan; perhaps another will discover music, science, painting, books, mountains, the sea or the stars. It will not matter. What I hope you will carry with you is not every fact in these letters, but the spirit in which they were written: to remain curious, to keep learning, to find joy in beautiful things, and to share that joy with those you love.
And if, many years from now, you should open this little book again, I hope you will remember not only the FIFA World Cup, the great players and the magical moments we wrote about, but also a Dadu who loved you enough to find a football tournament the perfect excuse for a long conversation.
Thank you, my dear children, for taking this journey with me.
May your own journeys be filled with curiosity, courage, kindness and joy. May you find your own mountains to climb, your own games to play, your own dreams to pursue, and the courage to keep going when the path becomes difficult.
And may you always remember that the finest victories in life are not measured by applause, medals or trophies, but by the goodness we leave behind in the hearts of others.
With all my love,
Dadu

(Uday Kumar Varma is an IAS officer. Retired as Secretary, Ministry of Information & Broadcasting)