The inspiration

I am never a major fan of the Idol show, save for Anthony Callea's performances on Australian Idol. If you haven’t heard of him yet, please, ask me for the video clip of his heavenly rendition of Carole Bayer Sager song The Prayer, made famous by Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli.

21-year-old Anthony brought the house down with his Prayer, garnering a standing ovation and a notable 'Grand Royale Touchdown' from Mark Holden. It was his defining moment in the competition, and the finest performance on the Idol stage in two years.

But I am getting off tangent. I just caught the first episode of the latest season of the American Idol. It was not an exciting episode, but it was a good break from my daily grind.

There were 21,000 of them hopefuls in the nation's capital, trying out for the nation's favorite show, each of them convinced that he/she would be the next American Idol. I was suitably entertained.

But the one thing that got to me was neither the funny antics nor the better performances of the lot. It was the undiluted elation of those who passed the first stage.

When they came through the doors waving their yellow sheets of gold and jumping into the arms of loved ones, or screaming ecstatically, or kneeing on the floor in happy tears; during those brief moments of sheer ecstasy, as if exuberance could filter through screens, I believed that I was almost happy too, for them and their first triumphs.