The Friendship Conundrum

The general theory that goes with friendship is that it is relative to time. Over-time, I have had the pleasure of engaging with different people on the validity of this idea and have always had key take-away's from almost all of them. This automatically opens up the corollary -how does one measure longevity in friendship?

From personal experience there is no clear answer. But there has emerged a pattern to the means in attempting to find some solid ground. It is (and always has been) my belief that success or eqanimity in achieving similar platform between two friends is directly proportional to the time that is invested in the relationship. Over years, most of us have built upon a strikingly similar model.

Let's start with the school friends. The degree of variance here is the greatest in terms of branching out from school into different facets of life. Over time, it is also the toughest to sustain the longevity, since embracing future walks of life comes with good orthogonality. As a result, common topics of discussions, moral ground, individual maturity and opinions differ by such a large degree that losing touch naturally becomes the easy way out. Add to this the common trait of choosing or abandoning people based on likes, dislikes, physical appearances and the crap in-between. As always, there are exceptions to the rule and some have stood the test of time, literally. A point to contrast is here is the degree of fondness one associates with this period since most of the time is spent on playing and discussing sports.

As one progresses into college life, juxtaposed with adolescence, rebellion, freedom and independence, a common ground slowly emerges. One is surrounded by like-minded individuals whose pursuit falls within the gamut of one's own. As a result, the quality of friendship also reaches a measurable limit with ideas tending to similar objectives. One associates with his similar-minded individuals more and herein lies the key to maintaining longevity. The sample set and variance also tends to reach a limit in terms of varying degrees of interests, subject matter, social issues. So, a tighter group begins to emerge.

From here, when an individual progresses into graduate education, the longevity of the friendship tends to peak to it's highest point. Factor in the duration of the curriculum, time away from family and long study hours- one spends the largest time in the close proximity of friends. This automatically strengthens bonds between like-minded individuals whose immediate goals and objectives are the closest to one another. It should not then come as a surprise when the friends one makes during this time generally stand the test of time to a far greater degree. This, given the fact that distances between two friends generally lands up to be the largest, owing to professional calling, relocation for higher studies and spouses coming into the mixture.

I often subscribe to the view that an individual is assessed by the company he keeps. Today, the associations with some wonderful people has contributed significantly to who I am. It is quite remarkable that an outside being can contribute so significantly to your thought process, engage with you during turbulent times, admonish you over your mistakes, agonize over your sorrows, keeps you grounded after success and more importantly, knows when and how to be there. To this end, I will gladly declare that my cup is half-full. In return, I get to be a part of their growth, maturity, parenthood and evolution. As the year draws to a close, I can fondly look back at the people who made me what I am and the people I can truly call my friends. And, no, you cannot quantify and put a price on that!

To give credit where it's due -this article is an offshoot of one of many stimulating conversations over a memorable trip with a close friend.

 

Konjee with Ka-Run

After a rather disconcerting time, the poor man was to experience more agony when the daringly stupid, remarkably atrocious and seemingly discombobulating Koffee with Karan was reintroduced. In recognition of a show that is so full of it, here is my humble condemnation....

Hello and welcome to Konjee with Ka-Run. In this poor man's show of the original, we will now attempt to bring to light several snoopy, distasteful and candid moments of those people who are of no use to anyone...Celebrities! In the first of many many excruciating shows, I, your host Ka-Run, will attempt to take you behind the scenes, bedrooms and bathrooms of all our favourite celebs. To mark the opening act of this enthralling show, I will now introduce you to our guest this evening, Ka-Ran.
 
(from somewhere the viewers can hear clapping and some door opens and our ahem, man of the moment appears blowing imaginary kisses to the microbes in the air)

Hello Ka-Ran, welcome to my show. It is indeed a displeasure to have you here. Since you are now one of the pioneer's of poor man's entertainment, how does it feel?

Muah-muah, oh Ka-Run dah-ling, thank you for having me on this show. Can I expect all my friends tonight? The same people again and again and again?

Well, Ka-Ran, you can. But, I can't. Since we do not have money to pay for the appearance of the same so-called A-list celebrities, it's only going to be you and I.

Oh, really. Muah-muah! I hope you are not resorting to any dirty pranks, no? You dirty boy!

Don't worry Ka-Ran. I would not even dream of it. Okay, let's get started. When you penned that super-duper magnum opus, Parson Ho Naa Ho, were you suffering from insomnia?

Oh, dah-ling..why would you say that?

Well, the movie was so long that I fell asleep even before the interval. So, I was wondering that only a ahem, man who is deprived of sleep can go on rambling about the story.

Oh, muah muah...we'll it was one of those days when I just wanted to bring out my deepest emotions, you know. As usual, I took my story to Aa-di and Jash uncle, they wanted me to bring more emotions into the story-line. Then as always, I took the story to my best buddies Ra-Sukh, Ka-Jol and Ra-Ni who were so overwhelmed by the plot that they wanted to add a few over-acting lines here and there. So, by the time I realized it, the run time of the movie was nearly fourteen hours and twenty seven minutes. In fact, the little kids in the movie actually grew up too. But, Ra-Sukh advised me to go ahead with the story and volunteered to act in it too. So, I got stuck with him.

Oh, these are some really startling revelations we have. So, tell me Ka-Ran, why is it that you bring the same people back on your show? I know you have your comfort zone with your chaddi buddies, but you need some fresh meat, dude!

Ah, but they are my friends, na. If I don't give them the publicity, who will yaar? Ritik, Babishek, Aish, Ra-Ni, Catrina, Jahid, Peepika, Kanbir, Shanuska, Sanveer, Ruzaane, Pohn Abraham, Kipasha, Mareena, Kaif, Ka-Jol, Monakshi...these people depend on me for their livelihood yaar. Their net-worth rockets once they come on my show.

Eh, how is that?

See, dah-ling, if I don't ask them all those silly questions and respond to their fake answers with an even more pretentious laughter, all the teenage youth of our country will not be able to get meaning for their lives. You see, I am the talent, I am the host and I am the show! In fact, even on the news, my show is breaking news

Er-let's not get distracted by self praise. I also wanted to ask you about the insanely large Coffee mugs. Why do you think you need the ahem, celebrities to sign and put it on the wall? It feels a tad pretentious.

My-naive doll....it is supposed to be like that. That's what I call drama. Let me tell you a secret. Those coffee mugs are just for the show. After the ahem, celebrities sign and put them on the wall, after the show, we actually give it to them. Hahaha...it's so funny. They think they go up on my wall. That's just a ball!

Also, as our poor man's fans eagerly want to know, why are you so interested in ahem, celebrities' personal lives? Talk about washing the dirty linen in public!

Oh-come on yaar. I can't believe you are even asking that! I take it upon myself to give all the wannabe, pretentious and self-loving people out there, what I call, a chance to peep into their stars' bedroom. You know, it gets more TRPs than current-affairs? If say, X is sleeping with Y, they are not going to admit it on TV. Or if someone says he/she is a virgin, how do you know it's the truth? So, when I play the host, my journalism skills take over. I will send X out and ask Y coyly, what is the first thing X does when he gets up? See what I did there? Invariably, Y will spill it out. And the extremely intelligent audience will figure out that X and Y are shacking up! Of course, I love to spoil the mood, with an extreme fake laugh and save the embarrassment for all! Don't you just love me?

Wow! I need some antacid now..anyway, one last question before we play our rapid fire. What is up with the gift-hamper? The ahem, celebrities can do without the additional vanity accessory!

Oh that! Muah muah...don't you love it when everyone wants that thing? It just brings out how material-centered they are! No matter how much they have, they still want that hamper. I put that just to see how vulgar and silly they look competing for that hamper. It's the bee's knees!! Muah-muah

Ok, I did not expect that. Let's move on to the rapid fire round. Let me pull out my memo-pad where I have jotted the questions...

Dah-ling, don't you have an i-pad? Chee, what is this memo-pad?

Remember Ka-Ran, this is a poor man's show. We like to keep it simple. Anyway, let's move on to the questions:

Your favourite colour?
Pink

Your favourite movie?
Parson Ho Naa Ho

Your favourite actor?
Ra-Sukh

Your favourite actress?
Ra-Ni

Your favourite holiday city?
San Francisco (wink-wink)

Your favourite song?
Bole pooriyan, bole rotiyan (I used to be fat)

Your message to our poor viewers?
Love me more than you love yourself. And, don't forget to watch Koffee with Ka-Ran!

Well, that's about it. You will now receive a gift hamper from us. It includes a bowl of Konjee!! Because, we cannot afford anything else.

Oh, is it healthy dah-ling? Let me try it. Goodbye dah-ling!! We must do this again sometime!

And...vomit...




Footnote: I am sure after reading this, you will rush to watch Koffee with Ka-Ran. After all, there are very few poor men left in this world. So, kiss my poor ass! 

Ladies And Gentlemen.....

I have been wanting to do this piece for a long time, and as usual, my lazy ass never got to it. Well, here goes lazy..

Ever wondered about the alarming levels of stupidity around you? I ain't saying I am the smartest sap on the planet, but hey, you act like a fool, you most definitely are. Which brings me to the topic of air-travel. Now-a-days, thanks to the cash-cows in India, flying is not the life long ambition for most in our country anymore. In fact, some legs of air travel are actually cheaper than bus travel, minus the effort and the crowd. Given the fact that our people hump and produce a child every 10 seconds, a little bit of space and efficiency is surely in order. Or so, you thought!

"Ladies and gentlemen..welcome aboard Flight-420 with direct service from Southeast to Midwest. It is indeed a pleasure to have you on board. My name is Chikna Chana and I will be you Chief flight attendant today"

"Well, lookey-here! Idiocy now has hierarchy!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now be taking off shortly. Please turn-ff your cell phones and all electronic devices as these may interfere with the navigation systems of the aircraft"

"Excuse me, I am an engineer. I can tell you that the radiations emitted out of the cell phone do not fall in the same RF band as the communication equipment on the aircraft. Even so, I'll let that one pass, and put it on "Aircraft-mode"

"No Sir. Please switch off your device completely. We are in an aircraft".

"OK..let me explain...when the phone is in flight mode, it does not receive any signals from any cell towers, nor does it transmit anything out"

"Sir, the very fact that it says airplane mode on, means that it is not to be used in the aircraft"

"Blimey! You are right..can't argue with such sound logic"...


"Please direct your attention to the attendants, who will now demonstrate a few important safety instructions"

"Hmm..if I did not know how to insert one end into the other end of this magical device called the seat belt, I ain't worth living"

"Sir, please straighten your seatback to an upright position and raise the window shades"

"Why, what would happen if I left my back rest reclining? And what the fuck is with the raising window shades? Is that going to impact the blind-spot of the pilot? Is there another plane competing for the spot for take off so that he needs to see what the fuck is going on to the side?"

"Sir, please relax. These are safety procedures"

"Really? Hmm...alright. I have to get my ass to Midwest so I'll pretend to ignore your stupidity and not to mention, ignorance"

Suddenly, there is a gruff voice from the intercom.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your Captain Jaibajrang Vayu speaking. We have a very short delay in taking off since we are seventh in line for takeoff. But, relax, sit back and enjoy your flight! I will update you once we are on the air"

"Enjoy your flight, eh? Why can't you overtake the six duds in front of us and reach the runway for the next take-off? You do the same shit when you are driving a car. Think of this bird doing just that. What? No? Too bad. No-one consideres good free advice these days"

"Alright! Take-off....wheeeeee"

"The Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign. But please remain in your seat. You are free to use your ipods and laptops now"

"Sigh! Technically, you can use your cell phone as well. What if all the wannabes having iphones on this flight want to listen to music?"

"Sir, they are free to do that. But the phones must be switched off"

"Eh??? Never mind. Good thing, Steve Jobs is dead already"

Right about now, all the Gujarathi aunties now decide they need to consume their packed theplas and undhiyos. And all the old-aged uncles want to initiate the painful task of unbuckling their seat-belts, get up from their seats to take a piss. A charging of the bulls ensures and I am left wondering, these people really do want to get their penny's worth by leaving their marks even in here!

Chikna now starts with the on-board dining as if it has been copied from a French fine-dining experience. First the curtains come on so that no-one is allowed to look into what magical delicacy is being prepared with such secrecy. But, for the benefit of his doubt, we shall let that one pass.

"Sir, would you like to have anything from our selection?"

"Hmm....Two hundred bucks for a cold paratha! Hmpf...no thanks! I shall starve instead. How about a glass of water?"

"Sir, please wait. Let me cater to the others who might be excited enough to buy something. I will be right back with you"

"Well, hello, parched throat!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your First Officer speaking now. The Captain is busy eating his meals, having set the course and allowing the auto-pilot to take over. We are now flying at 36,000 feet with a head-wind of about 8 knots. The outside temperature is minus 27 degrees. So, sit back and ring up on our attendant should you require any assistance"

"Well, in what mother-fucking way was this announcement useful information? Flying at 36,000 feet. OK. So what? And, did you stick your head out like a dog to measure the temperature outside? And, head-wind is just a cheeky way of saying, there is a chance we might get delayed. Dumb-ass!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now begun our descent into Mid-west. Please return to your seats, especially all those old-aged uncles. Fun time's over and fasten your seat-belts. The Captain has just finished his meals and will now prepare the final settings on the auto-pilot for landing. As you can see, he is highly qualified. Also, we will be dimming the on-board lights during landing. So, please feel free use the reading light above you"

"What??? What does on-board lighting have to do anything with take-off and landing?? Excuse me..well, never mind, screw that thought. I am now so nicely tucked in that my balls would pop-up any minute. By the way, I am still waiting on my water!"

"We now wish to proudly announce an on-time arrival to Midwest. The aircraft has now left the active runway, so you can now use your cell phones"

"Uh, excuse me, won't that impact some communication equipment on the plane while it is heading to the gate?"

"No Sir, after landing and getting off the main runway, you can use your phones as per regulation"

"Ah, well, I see your brilliant logic there! You just repeated yourself so that I can sit back, relax and tug on my testicles! Well played"

"Please remain in your seats till the aircraft comes to a complete halt"

At this precise moment, all the passengers get up to get their shit out of the overhead bins and clamour for the passageway. Sigh, air-travel is so stress-free and enjoyable that for some weird reason, I am now rooting for the bus!

PS: And, all flight announcements should as as cool as this

Respect

Dear Rahul,

It is exactly one year to this day since you retired. Your press conference still streams through my mind. I have not seen many, looking dapper with the India blazer and the tie, on similar occasions (or choose to don the India colours). But then, you were always the studious gentleman, weren't you? I can imagine you as a student in the classroom, refraining from tantrums and truants, and, instead engaging in very well-mannered frivolity, away from the eyes and ears of the teacher! Yes, that was probably what you did too...

Well, what else has happened in the past one year? Economic meltdowns, political turmoil and inhuman rapists aside, you did go quietly about your business post-retirement too. First, there were numerous emotional articles, writ with perfect diction and correctness, that can only be attributed to you. For some writers and journalists, you seemed to bring out their best strokes. If one ever had a doubt that you were an ethereal underdog who never seemed to get his due, the media and the blogging world lay this argument to rest with resounding success. Why, you were even bestowed with the country's third highest civilian honour! Honestly, the words- wall, consistent, dependable, technique, gentleman, champion, among several others took to a new level. Some of the articles and comments have truly been tear-jerking and I shed quite a few too. Gradually, philosophical ideas overtook current reality that, time does not wait for anyone. Alas, fans will now have to get used to a gaping void at the third position of the scoreboard, eventually to be filled by a bunch of letters, but, never again capturing the essence of India's greatest one-drop batsman.

Secondly, the felicitations from the governing bodies of cricket and the media followed where you had to struggle to keep yourself from breaking-down. And, you began laying the foundation of a perceivable future brick by brick in all those memorable speeches. Each carefully prepared, judiciously studied and eloquently delivered. I could not help but notice the tight bond between the core group of the team and time, which now form fairy-tales from yore. It was truly wonderful to realize that even in a professional environment, there could be true friendship and respect for peers.

A few months down the line, when the cacophony of the IPL ended, not many realized that the Rajasthan Royals finished up on top of the table for fair-play. I am sure, your presence at the helm would have resulted in that achievement. Budding players, blinded by the arc-lights of fame would have had a re-assuring arm on their shoulders telling them that individual brilliance is all fine ephemerally, but true worth lay in putting team over self, humility over arrogance, perseverance over lethargy. You would have told them that the five-day version of the sport would remain the summit to scale- the pearl in the oyster. I truly hope they would have taken this advice.

You then dabbled in some public appearances with your book launch, at leadership summits and literature festivals, lots of public awareness campaigns, where you appeared to feel right at home. There was the one very odd award ceremony where you looked completely at sea, sitting among film personalities and leggy lasses. One could see your face turning crimson red when you were interviewed by a model! Perhaps, clean-bowled by a fair maiden? But, it was nice to see you loosening up, albeit only momentarily, in these events.

You also did a measured stint in commentary and writing, which should be favoured areas of interest in the future as well, considering your penchant for the written word. You must be satisfied with this new guy, holding up your desk in the office. He does not seem to be too bad. But, hopefully, he is able to grab your baton in overseas conditions. We will have to wait and watch, for a repeat of his current performances can hopefully, bring down the anxiety levels when India is 2 for 1. Maybe, he can figure out a way to calm the nerves over the next ball, the bowler charging in after his success, the crowd behind the home team, and the ball released with fiery pace is safely "well-left" to the keeper without any hassle. It will be a thrill to hear the buzz in the stadium turn into an exasperation. Maybe, he has it in him to battle the whims of the weather-Gods and bide time for sunnier moments at Leeds. Perhaps, he can summon his yogic concentration levels in sweltering heat in the dust bowls of Rawalpindi, much like you did....

So, yes, I have been following your activities over the past one year with great interest and curiosity. For a select few of us, stationed across continents, you have been one of the prime source of conversation exchange. That is perhaps, a fresh accolade to your overflowing cup. Over time, I do see you getting more involved in cricket. Perhaps, you can team up with your legendary mates and spread the awareness of test cricket to the smaller towns in the country. Perhaps, you can engage in unearthing talent from different parts of the country. Perhaps, you can dig into the grassroots of Indian cricket, and volunteer to clean it up, just like you did, in the Indian colours.

But, whatever you do, it has been an absolute privilege watching, discussing, understanding and aping you. After a year, the hat of great "Ambassador to Cricket" now fits nicely, just like that India blazer and tie did a year ago. Thank you, Rahul, for the memories.

Siddarth.
 

Catalyst

In placing due importance to the the famous Independence speech by Pandit Nehru, India awoke into the pangs of ignominy at the turn of the century. A nation felt betrayed by scandals and testimonials of epic proportion in a sport which ran rich and thick through it's veins. The first man of cricket was brought to his knees in astounding revelations and it seemed as if turmoil on the political front seeped into the cricket field as well. While one end of the country was losing her brave soldiers at the high peaks of Siachen, at the other end, it's people wept and felt cheated by icons of the sport. To some, Prime Minister, A.B.Vajpayee's oratory skills provided comfort and served as a balm to soothe the pain of the causality India was suffering at Kargil and at cricket. 

But, all that was to change. Day after day, the Prime Minister's brilliant speeches and intent, created a massive ripple that gripped the nation and gave it belief, that she could come out of it scathed, yes, but stronger and belligerent. To this end, we owe a truck-load of gratitude to our brave soldiers, who survived all odds to scale great heights and stamp the authority India was to have in the high peaks of the Himalayas. As a result of this new found confidence, people across the country began to look up at the sky again. The successful nuclear tests and the long range ballistic missile tests conducted during this time further strengthened the country's might and India announced herself to the world rising like a dragon.

Over this period of excitement, every Indian citizen began his day with the hope that he too can scale great heights. It was against this backdrop that a visiting Australian team arrived on Indian shores with the dream of conquering it on the grass-fields. It was against this backdrop, that a nucleus of players with highest integrity and deepest love for the traditions of the game came together to brush away the tragic drama that had engulfed the sport. Aggressive competitors on the field with a demure persona off it, these titans performed duties battling cramps, broken-jaws, hamstrings, dehydration, sore backs, short-pitched deliveries and thrust the new found self-belief into the face of the nation and especially, it's youth. For that, this blogger will be eternally grateful.

An Indian team got up to defend it's land and protect it against the all conquering Australian team. Led extremely admirably by a captain who believed in taking the bull by the horns, it's batsmen stood up to face the heat. It's bowlers acquired new desire to run in hard and bend their backs with each delivery. It's fielders threw themselves on the ground-leaping, flying, shedding blood to blunt the opposition. In due course of time, as India became a global power who could not be ignored, an Indian team and it's brave-hearts stepped onto the play-field literally wearing their hearts on their sleeves. Not to be subservient anymore, not to be bullied anymore, but to fight and win within the
boundaries of sportsmanship.

It was against this backdrop the India vs Australia series of 2001 unfolded and will remain etched in the minds of my generation for ages to come. When every player begins to believe that he can perform beyond his potential, what transpires on the field is a revelation. Each of these players assumed a larger than life grit and will-power and gave it his all for the cause of his country. That group of players attained divinity in the minds and hearts of their supporters. Bloodied but not beaten, injured but not down, they collectively embodied a nation's calling for a shot at her destiny.

And what a legacy they left behind! One, that cannot be surpassed, not because records cannot be broken, but for the immense levels of valor that went into shaping that legacy. No one can dare put a prize to that and no one should. To exemplify the fact that, this level of greatness was achieved with the utmost humility and stood out in the standard that was maintained in keeping up with the traditions of the game is a resounding achievement. This Indian team not only protected the country's soil against invaders, but went on to battle for supremacy on foreign soil. Battlegrounds in England, West Indies, Sri Lanka, Pakistan and Australia were conquered. Those present, witnessed and stood in unison to laud these legendary warriors who enthralled the audience with grit, determination, audacity, tenacity, guile, perseverance and more importantly, love for the game and respect for it's peers.

Today, as I look back fondly at this time India rose, I recall how her warriors on the battlefront and off it performed admirably. A nation's collective calling was answered by a few men who took guard against bullets and bouncers. Against bitter cold and sweltering heat. To stand up and fight did not require might but strength, did not require rage but resolve, did not require hate but skill. Today, as India pushes herself up to greater heights, I cannot help but smile at the catalyst that spurned this process. At the men, who gave their all.

"At the stroke of midnight, when the world sleeps, India awakens to her life and freedom...".

Forever and More

She extended her arms and gently covered my ears. What she spoke seemed like sweet nothings in my ear. Her voice tones were interspersed (albeit, gently) between different levels of melodies

As I attempt to guage her, the yellow skin on her body bears fruity qualities. Her brain tries to guage my mood to continue whispering sweet nothings. A Genius at play, it would seem! As I lay in bed, she engulfed the silence of the night, lying beside me, comforting me. I would fall asleep, in her arms, listening to her lullabies. As I rode in to nowhere, she accompanied me, lovingly caressing my back, gently filtering out the din outside. When I spoke alongside her, her melodious tones seemed more extravagant. When I listened to her intently, my world suddenly reflected the joys of a musical, unfettered by noise.

She was a bit mysterious on occasions. I would not know what she would say next. But there was a very nice medley, all the time. Sometimes, I would ask her to go back and repeat the things she'd just said, just to re-live the euphoria. Not once did she disappoint. Oftentimes, her lustrous face, reflected organization of thought. As she spoke, her face painted a rich kaleidoscope of colours, and sometimes, embezzling the gaiety of her voice. But often, her face was not the object of my attention. She would sometimes respond awkwardly to touch, but her face would glow, radiant and all. I would feed her, sometimes with quick bites, sometimes with elaborate meals. It would never matter to her. She would never flatter to deceive. We would fight too, when she said things I did not want to hear. But the fallout would end when the right chord was stuck soon after. On days when she felt low, a quick charge would immediately liven her up. 

Over the years, she has oft comforted me. Her gentle voice would emancipate worry. Her company on trips livened up an otherwise mundane journey. I would always come back refreshed after being in her arms. As I get up everyday to put myself through the grind, I know, when I come back home, she would be waiting for me, her arms stretched wide open, beckoning me to them....

For Love of the Game -Part2

Pudgy took his guard first up. He strapped on his pads, abdomen guard and gloves. Somehow, he never wore the helmet. Perhaps, he did not like to survey the landscape from the confines of the grill, perhaps he felt it was an irritant to his free hitting style. Pudgy was always a bowler first. A cracker one at that too! He loved to give the cherry a rip as it left his elastic wrists. He loved to dabble in military medium too. But I enjoyed watching him when he bowled spin. A physique like a certain blonde-haired Australian wonder, he had a bowling action quite similar to him too. Maybe a couple of more steps into the delivery...He liked the hard wrought-iron surface we played on. He liked the ball coming on nicely to his bat. He loved it give it a spank. "I am going to hit you out", was the message sent out loud and clear. I never really liked bowling to him. Often, standing at mid-off, I could feel the power and the force with which the ball would leave the bat. Pure disdain, I tell you! It was not a fun time to be fielding at that position too, especially with the cold Pacific breeze blowing through the well-lit makeshift cricket area. Pudgy as a bowler was superbly organized. Hell, I never liked facing him either! He would bowl leg-spin from around the wicket to right-handed batsmen. We had a predicament with our makeshift cricket field. The boundary wall was, perhaps just a couple of feet from where out leg-stump ended. It was almost as if Pudgy took a machiavellian delight in our agony. The ball would come looping from his hand (a beautiful loop shaming geometry!) and dip right on line with the leg-stump. The only way to play the ball was to either move across and back and awkwardly guide it to the off-side or kill the ball in defense. Open stance never seemed to work for me due to the boundary wall. And, I did not have the balls to sweep a spinning, bouncing cobra. In the six overs each of us faced, Pudgy's two were hell.

Lefty perhaps played Pudgy the best. Being a south-paw gave him natural advantage. It was a joy to watch Lefty bat. He had the elegance, much like an audacious former Indian captain. Again, standing at mid-off, you can just watch the ball caressed towards the point and cover areas. Lefty was quite fidgety with his stance too. He liked the little details. There used to be an apologetic look on his face after he would send the ball flying, moments after it left your hand. "Sorry, mate", came promptly. After every ball, he would adjust his gloves with the same clinical precision as before. Lefty used to wear his helmet on top of his rotated cap. It provides a solid base for the helmet, he used to say. And he liked trying out new bats too. I recall, he had spent multiple sessions seasoning a new bat which adorned our balcony for a while. Often, Pudgy and Lefty would converse in Kannada. Perhaps it was sledging. No, I don't think it was that. Folks from Bangalore are much too genial. Lefty used to bowl right-arm medium pace. It was great fun playing Lefty. We had to always mind of our foot, though. A yorker was always on the corner when Lefty bowled. And, he kept coming at us. With the same speed, same pace, every delivery. He used to apologize if we played and missed! He was a fine reader of his opponent too, Lefty. He would comment on our shots, the way our feet were moving, balance and all that jazz. And, do it so gracefully. Fine gentleman, Lefty was! He would encourage us to try something new, cater to our requests bowling specific deliveries repeatedly and with the same intensity. He would let you know what to expect when he was trying something new, to get the batsman's perspective! Much like Amby...

Amby always prided in being technically correct. He was equally dextrous bowling with either arm. Amby played Division league cricket and manned the No:3 position much like a certain legend who was India's finest there. Every game we played, Amby used to preface it with a methodical warm-up session of stretching and loosening up. If Amby batted first, it would be a good 10-15 minutes before we bowled the first ball! He used to go over strapping on his pads to putting on his helmet with utter disregard for time. Never rush yourself before going out to bat, he would often remark. Amby used to wear a bandanna underneath his helmet. He would always come out to bat with a dri-fit white shirt underneath his t-shirt. His entire ensemble made for much banter amongst the others but never once was he perturbed. Even while waiting to face the delivery, he would raise his head up at the last moment. Often, we have stopped in our run-up thinking he was not ready! Amby had a very prodigious cut. It was a joy to watch him cut the ball. His shift of balance, while being oh, so nimble on his toes. Like Lefty, he would often dabble in the intricacies of the technique. He handled Pudgy much better with an open stance and was never afraid to launch into the sweep. Against the pacers, Amby would never be rushed into playing a rash shot. But Amby was never about the powerful hitting. There was something insanely serene about him. Even when he bowled, he had the perfect run-up before delivery and his action was smooth as silk. He used to experiment with a new technique each time we played. One session used to be just for out-swing while the other used to be for in-swing. Even when batting, Amby followed a routine that he would have thought of to practice, earlier. And, he used to practice this for his game in the leagues. I hear that even in friendly-matches, Amby would always fancy himself to hold one end up, something he prided in doing in the league games too. To us, he was the most complete player.

Amby, Lefty and Pudgy represent three very real characters with whom, I have had the pleasure of sharing multiple practice sessions. I never cared that Amby played Division cricket, that Lefty represented clubs professionally or that Pudgy was the best bowler of spin I had ever played. To me, it did not matter who was a better batsman or a better bowler, who was fitter, who was more knowledgeable. To me, what mattered was that wrought-iron tennis court and the sheer joy of playing a sport that the four of us loved. To us, the cold Pacific breeze brought the warmth of friendship. To us, cricket provided a stage to let go, be free.

Always for love of the game....

For Love of the Game -Part1

Oftentimes, I wonder what is first. The sport or the players? While professionals who have played any sport will readily admit that none can ever be bigger than the game itself, as a spectator, I am often trapped in a catch-22 situation.

In this day and age, where power, speed, agility constitute a player's dominance, I wonder how much of the romance and elegance gets embodied in him. As a spectator, I followed only two sports in my life. Tennis and Cricket. This I think, was more to do with the history and romance with these, through the people who played it. Sadly, it is slowly diminishing for me...

With tennis, epic matches between Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi generated more interest than scoring points with chicks. I revered Micheal Chang for his amazing cross-court play, Stefan Edberg for his class, Boris Becker for his tenacity and Steffi Graf for her grace (too bad I was not part of the Chris Evert era). But Sampras/Agassi took the cake. Not for the players they were, but for the people they are (I still have to read Open by Agassi!). As a spectator, you have the additional luxury to assimilate players' persona with judgement. You can cross the barrier to ridicule someone for his brashness, or awe someone for this humility. But, in the end, somewhere a part of you wants to imbibe qualities like will, grit, determination, stamina, tenacity, courage, class which, eventually sums up your respect-quotient towards that player. This is what I loved with Sampras and Agassi and strangely this also increased the aura of the game itself. You come to realize that sports personalities are largely different from you and me, simply because of their undying love for something they believe in, something that flows through their veins. So, it follows naturally that a romance for the game ensues. But if one factors this account of "romance" or "love for something we believe" in our daily lives, I am sure we would find ourselves performing our daily tasks much more potently. Sadly, not all of us can lay a substantial claim to that.

In-spite of cricket being a team sport, Indian cricket players have always held a super-stardom status. So, automatically, they "become" bigger than the game in the eyes of the spectator. We are often interested in how a player defines himself outside the field of play. How well he carries himself, how controversy-free he is, how he values ethics of the sport, and the like. I would love for someone to talk about his first visit to the Lord's dressing room, what he felt when he walked out on to the field at the Eden Gardens, how best he related with history at the Adelaide Oval, what does he think when he sees the honours board in the venues across the world, how soon his focus moves to the zone where nothing else matters besides the duel between bat and ball, how he finds comfort within the game he plays, how he feels to be part of an opponent's team's psyche in nerve-wrecking duals, what he thinks of the Ashes urn, what runs through his mind when he sees trophies on display. These, in my opinion would encapsulate the beauty of the sport and the game that is played within it's quarters. We have been very fortunate to have been part of an era in Indian cricket where a certain nucleus of players came together at the break of the century to guide the spectator's imagination for love of the game. The class of 2000 was not merely a group of individuals, but were our symbols of hope, courage, intensity, agony, ecstasy, respect. They became entities that defined the sport itself. That, their personalities grew in stature in our eyes, is a mere corollary to this. Or is it?

This is where I am caught like a deer in front of headlights. Am I lured by the romance of the sport or am I star-struck by the achievements of the legends? As I go over what I have written so far, I am amazed by the amount of ambiguity I generate. Sometimes, the competition to prove who is better, the instinct to win, do not take precedence when you want to focus on the regalia of the traditions of the game.

To judge a sport for it's game or the people who played it? The question plays itself all over again...

Affection

"We have come together a long way", she remarked. He agreed. From childhood to the present, at the cusp of her matrimony, her calling, her desire, all were to materialize soon. We did have a jolly good time, didn't we, he asked. She nodded approvingly indicating that good times were always with good company. She did not believe in partying out, of jars filled with beer, glasses flowing with alcohol, music generating high decibels. Her's was a simple motive. Of giggles and squeaks, of good-natured bantering, of discussing sitcoms and the characters it entailed. Such was the definition of time well spent. It included too, her time spent with family. Just being in the present. Just being there...

"You will be going to a whole new world", he said. There won't be soul-sisters at beck and call. They will be asleep when you are awake. "You will have to deal with new found silence. And that will be a good thing." He had gone though the same rigour too. Suddenly, noise around him was muted. He could hear the bird chirp, the wind hustle. He gave into this wonderful peace. "Some might call it drone", he cautioned. "But, don't mind them. This will be a break. This is your time away from it all. Enjoy the silence. It does not fall into someone's lap this easily." Absence of noise, even in it's presence can be wonderful!

"How did it feel when you gave it all up? To return to simpler times and people. Do you miss it?"

"I do, more than ever. Because, I was able to perceive sound as an entity there. So there was a clear demarcation when it was present and when it was absent. Here it takes more effort. I have to struggle to know when to switch-off. It is a lot harder. But, then again, it feels nice to come back to one of your own. This is where I belong now." She tried to come to terms with it all. All through one's life, man searches for stillness. But no one really knows how to achieve it. Perhaps it's all relative. One need not go to Mansarovar to experience stillness. One can experience it in the darkness of the night, in bed, just before dozing off. Just need to be gracious enough to accept it.

"I don't really know what to expect. This contrasts with the excitement, vigour this new phase in my life would bring." She seemed confused. Her large, round eyes exemplifying the fact. "You are definitely entitled to it! All I am saying is, don't get caught up in the physical world, trying to please everybody. You can have your own approach to it all. Try and switch-off every now and then. You will notice that time appears to be on roller-skates there. Take a walk, breathe in the cold crisp air. Try to slow it down. You will notice yourself relaxing." This is not yoga or meditation, he was quick to add. "Sometimes, to handle responsibilities, you need to first underplay them. Soak it in, don't act instinctively. Let it engulf you. You will see yourself handling it better."

It is very hard, he added. "I still am struggling to come to terms with slowing things down. Looking at a proposition from multiple angles becomes your Art of War. I might take a lifetime to find my Art of War or even put it to full use. But, I do know that failing to react instinctively to responsibilities often got me out of icky situations and enabled me to approach it better." Hopefully, it earned me some admiration, some respect, he drifted off...

"You never craved attention, anyway. So, I can understand this bubble you generate. It is like your stage. Your theater without any act." That is some analogy, he joked and gave her a hug. It was time...she would be leaving soon. Bouncing ideas off each other would rarefy. Space for intellectual thought will be shared with someone else. Hopefully, she will find time to get away from it all every now and then....

Marital Piss

There comes a stage in every male loser's life where he needs to start browsing through matrimonial websites for a potential bride since he did not have the balls to go out and score himself a chick. I am going through that process now. Hell, a little self-deprecation never really did hurt no one!

So, yeah, matrimonial websites. I think this is a place where the rudest people have an account. The website itself gives you cheesy tags like "Express Interest", "Dislike", "Dislike with message" and the like. Of course, I never really got to "Disliking" anyone since I have always been "Disliked" immediately after I "Liked" someone! Anyway, God has funny ways of humouring himself. Be that as it may, these girls and their parents think no end of themselves. When one sends in a "like" request, these buggers take five hundred days to respond with a "Sorry Sir, but I don't think the horoscopes match". What the fuck! It took you five hundred days to say that? And, are you living in 1856 to be matching horoscopes? When the celestial bodies say that the boy and girl are not suited for each other, you hang on to it as if it was a pearl of wisdom. But, if the same celestial body declares that from tomorrow you are going to suffer from diarrhea for the rest of your life, you say, "Oh, I don't believe in that crap". Bloody hypocrites.

The weirdest answer I got was that the "girl was not ready". FUCK! Why the fuck did you put up her profile on the website then? It's not like she was super hot or anything. Even for this, the attitude is too much, I reckon. Anyway, the description on the profile is even more annoying. Typically, every parent HAS to mention, "..we are looking for a boy who is cultured and has good values..". So what is the benchmark for that? I can proudly declare that I ate my chocolate bar with a knife and fork (just like our very lovable George Costanza). So, does that make me cultured? Or are you looking for someone who consumes cultured fat? What do you mean by good values? Does it entail putting salaam to uncles and aunties? Does it mean that I shut my trap when elders are talking (or bitching about someone)? If I were to do this, then you will label me as subservient. If I were to open my trap and disagree with their one track opinions, you will label me as pompous and arrogant. So where the fuck do I draw the line? More-so, who the fuck gave you the authority to judge me?

Secondly, every profile indicates that smoking and consuming alcohol is an absolute no-no! Why the kolaveri against this? I can see your daughter's profile photo right outside a pub. Did she go there to find out what soft drinks are being served? So, you think if I emit a couple of puffs and down a few cold ones, I am the baddest guy around? Or the most annoying? Even more than Shah Rukh Khan?? That is a personal insult!

Thirdly, if the girl says that she would like to get to know the guy, be an ideal partner to the guy, respect his family, give her space, take my space, how the fuck do you hope to achieve this if you do not respond to the guy's interest?? Just like your space, you think the guy is going to drop from space? And, even if you do land up talking to someone, you dismiss him after a couple of calls saying, "we are not a match for each other". So you expect me to be all chivalrous and accept that I have just been KLPD'd?? Well, screw you. I already had plans of rejecting you. You just made it easier for me! My male ego will only get more inflated and I ain't gonna mess with that shit.

So, in effect, whenever I see male animals trying to impress a female on National Geographic, I think of myself. Well, at least that bird-of-paradise got his female by showing off his colours. And I am sitting here writing this. Fuck, sixth sense FAIL!

PS: This is not a rant. I know I am awesome!

Serenity

As someone who pays attention to the little details in life, I am inclined to write this. Perhaps, this might not be coherent or dainty but will attempt to entail a certain part of your mental make-up called comfort. I have been thinking about this area for sometime now. What does one mean when he talks about his comfort and the zone it belongs to? Various points come to mind.

First and foremost, I feel a sense of "belonging" to this zone. There is a warm reassurance of this space and being. The mind and body suddenly relax and a goodness factor creeps in. I am not able to pen the words to this feeling exactly and, neither can I quantify it. What I can say is that I want to relate to this feeling far more than I do presently.

Secondly, this space is yours, and just yours. This again re-affirms the sense of "belonging" that I mentioned earlier. Suddenly, the fast paced world stops and your world is now limited only to this space. It is as if the mind now gets events at a much slower rate to assimilate and process. And, it does that so beautifully! I get a feeling of focus when everything else gets shut out.

Thirdly, this state is completely pre-emptive. It just comes. While reading something that inspires, while sitting in the office cubicle when everyone has left work, while travelling alone, while lying in bed, listening to music in the darkness of the night, and so on. And, it is more frequent at night when all else is quiet.

In this state, everything around you assumes a meaning, a presence that you do not notice otherwise. You feel good about the stillness of the air, the silence of sound, the absence of man, the sound of waves, the darkness of the night, stillness of water. These are moments that entails your conversation with your mind. Free of chaos, free of din, free of noise, free of people. Little things around you take precedence. Dew on a leaf, water droplets on the window, a cup of tea, green fields, last rows on an aircraft, a book, rain drops, a table lamp that lights a desk space and so forth.

It is very hard to shut one's self out from the commotion that one is subjected to. Perhaps, that is why I get pleasure from these little things. Though few and far in-between, these moments of alone-ness are rejuvinating. What if the world were full of it?

People may argue that one needs to turn into a monk to achieve this state of impasse. And, it would be impractical to be always surrounded by a bubble and not adjust to change. Perhaps, that is the point of contention itself. Are we going to be eventually embedded in this struggle, in this rat race? No wordly pleasure can match the few moments of joy the mind gets when all else has lost focus....

Adieu To Emotion

How and where does one begin to write about someone who has been a moral part of one's self? I do not intend to post laurels on Rahul Dravid or on his journey into the pantheon of greatness. That, is a subject best handled by journalists and biographers much more qualified than me. And, by those, who weave magic with the sanctity of the written word. Much like RD did with his willow. Instead, I wish to take you though a life-journey..

I did not watch RD's debut innings at Lord's partly because I was struggling with lessons in school and partly because my affection towards cricket at that stage was only playing it and nothing else. So my journey with RD (or perhaps, the other way around), began at a time when he was a "nervous nineties" batsman. Everything about him looked impeccable on the 22 till that point (or, it's near-about). For all the times, Lady Luck did not feel sorry for him, a part of me did. The analogy of studying so hard for an exam but failing to make the upper-cut often came up (of course, such was the maturity at that stage). Little by little, I became part of that struggle, his anguish and his long walks back to the pavilion, head held down...

Fast forward a year, I was busy studying for my tenth class board exams. It was during this time, the Indian cricket team was scheduled to leave for South Africa. I can still recall the advertisement represented by the players with Noble Savages' "I'm an Indian" as a background score. RD's line in that ad was, "Catch us in action in South Africa". The game of cricket reached The Wanderers and I was in the middle of a Chemistry tuition class. Acids were being mixed with alkalis and salts were being produced. My chemistry teacher, Mr.Khade was a remarkable man. He was an avid fan of the game and used to mute the television while ranting out chemical equations, all the while keeping an eye on the match and score. It was during this class, RD approached his eighties on a spicy wicket against a stellar pace attack. Suddenly, Mr.Khade stopped chemistry and focused his attention completely on the match, un-muting the television. Joy knew no bounds when we closed our notebooks and turned our interest to the same. I recall muttering a small prayer to enable RD to end his quest. Eighties turned to nineties and his guardian angel broke free from her shackles and wrapped him under her wing. Perhaps, she had heard my prayer. From then on, RD played like a man possessed! Cuts, drives, pulls, glides were unleashed in all their resplendent glory. He had completed his first spiritual quest. I somehow cannot recall how he got there, but I can never forget the image of his head looking up to the heavens and his bat raised in acknowledgement. While acids and bases continued to yield salts, patience and grit yielded a memorable milestone. I do not remember how I fared in Chemistry but I remember being bathed in that magic moment.

As an adolescent kid with new found charm of junior college, bunking classes was something I took great personal pride in. To me, it was the epitome of rebellion, it was Pink Floyd's magnificence playing with hormones. I would rush home early on Fridays to join my friends in colony cricket. We used to play into the wee hours of the night. The games constituted two phases. Proper "over-arm" cricket outdoors followed by a quick scamper home for meals. This was followed by throw-down matches in the building lobby (Bhatta cricket as it was called in Mumbai). These games were tense. Ten people crammed in a small area with the following rules:

1. If you were caught on the first bounce, you were declared out
2. If you had hit the ball directly on any building wall, you were declared out
3. If you had padded the ball more than once in an over, you were declared out (this led to considerable debate too!)
4. If you had edged the ball onto the back wall (which served as the wicket), you were declared out

So, with these in place, accompanied by a first slip, second slip, silly point, forward short leg, very short mid-on and mid-off and the bowler, the batsman took guard. The aim of this exercise was not to score runs (we did not bother keeping any), but to survive hostile pace. A batsman was not bound by number of overs but could just keep playing till he got out. The approach I took while playing these games was to leave the ball outside the off-stump irrespective of how close it was. Over time, I got pretty good at knowing where my off-stump lay. I once had the pleasure of surviving nearly ten overs and, to this day, it has been the most satisfying and adrenalin-rushing stay at the crease. During these glorious days, RD's concentration and dogged defense became a part of me...

Fast forward another year, I was in Bengaluru, slated to appear for the Karnataka engineering entrance examination. India was playing Sri Lanka at the World Cup at Taunton,England. Exams were forgotten. We were five, sitting in a tiny room glued to the television as two of India's young green-horns launched a superlative counter-attack. Perhaps, if God was induced into taking revenge for what had happened three years ago, this was how He would have done it. I shall never forget that period of play, or the cozy blankets, tasty tea or the re-assuring comfort of that room. Suddenly, all was well. It was at this moment RD's grit and struggle became a part of me...

Over the years, I tried to ape him in every possible way. I used to wear collared T-shirts to games so that I could raise the collar. I started listening to Sting. I used to take guard, left foot first in line with the leg stump, followed by a couple of taps of the bat on the ground and then position the right foot (something I do even today, when I get a chance to play). I used to close my lips while making contact with the ball. I always manned forward short leg in the lobby games. I tried to defend more than attack and took great pride in taking the single so that more flamboyant players could play their strokes. I always used to hit along the ground. I used to shadow practice after playing each ball. Needless to say, I failed quite miserably in these attempts!

The grind of technical education preceded higher studies and professional work. I tried to find a balance between honing analytical skills and psychological ramblings, between sharing wonderful boisterous moments with friends and quiet introspection, between rationality and insanity, between practicality and instinct. It is during this stage of my life that RD became a part of me...

Today, I saw good part of my life flash by. For this, I am grateful to RD. I am grateful for the memories. I am grateful for the dignity, spirit, respect, conduct, character and altruistic romance for the game and it's traditions. Above all else, for shaping my thought, I am grateful for RD. Goodbye and good luck. They do not come like you anymore. You will always be a treasure....

PS: The repeated use of "I" is by no means an attempt to focus this article on me, but rather, point to the influence RD has on "I"

Overdose and Overkill

There is a nice statement that is flung out on one of the Harry Potter movies. It goes something like this, "Fame is a fickle friend. Celebrity is as celebrity does". While this statement may sound quite attractive, in real life, the actual enactment of this is just causing intolerable pain to the poor citizen.

The celebrity seems to be everywhere now. I can understand if he restricts himself to his movies. The ideal case scenario would be act your ass off in-front of the camera and let the public decide on the judgement. But instead, he seems to be in a state of constant self-promotion like a two-cent whore. He endorses cola drinks, sodas, music cds, fruit drinks, consumer electronics, toothpaste, shaving cream, why, even state tourism. Why is this constant need of attention pinching your arse? More importantly, why are you determined to make us pinch ours and wince in pain?

If the poor people thought that self-promoting via advertisements is enough, they are in for a rude shock. Because, now the celebrity is free-whoring on TV shows, internet feeds, facebook and for fucking God's sake, even on news channels. All he does is rant and repeat the same shit of how fortunate he was to land up on the assignment, on how important his fans' support is. Balls. No one gives a rat's ass how you got your movie assignment. You just fucking got lucky. And don't worry, no fan is interested in what toothpaste you use for which tooth. We know that you are selling yourself for cheap publicity for which we just don't give a fuck about.

What's with the constant re-affirmation that you are the most down-to-earth human there is? Are you trying to convince us? You know shit about the stark realities of life. So, don't come to us with your caring, humane pretense to tell us you feel our pain. Fuck you! You feel shit. At-least, try to put in a good act so that you can boast about your actual acting skills. Oh, I'm sorry, if you knew how to act, you would not have to sleep around in the first place to prove yourself. And, what's with these fake "Achievement Awards" you get? What the fuck for? You better not declare that you have earned it. I can show you a million people who deserve it more than you. So, don your designer shades and go pleasure yourself somewhere else. Speaking of which, why the fuck do you need to wear shades in the dark. Are you a retard? I am amazed that you don't knock something over and land on shit. Maybe you can put this feat on your Resume. It will atleast ensure that you will earn your shades irrespective of whether you will earn respect.

Speaking of respect, give some while trying to mimic local dialects. Just because you dress up like a baboon and shout, "Enna rascala" does not mean you got it right. If you had bothered to do your homework, you will find that no Tamilian even talks with that annoying accent. And, mind you, it's TAMILIAN, and not Madrasi! Same's the case with your cheap imitation of a "Ayyo Rama" and the like. For fuck's sake, don't ever say it out loud in front of a Madrasi lest you want your fledgling biceps to be pulled out.

Just when I thought you would sink no further, you went and branded a fragrance line. Do you think all of us are retards like you? Tell me this, which jackass with a semblance of sanity will buy a perfume/product when the focus is on your sorry-ass face? If the director of the advertisement asked you to pose for the bottle, where the fuck did your brains go? Did you leave it with your shades in the glove-box of your big-ass SUV?

I also see that you seem to be quite tech savvy these days. You seem to be blogging and tweeting messages to endorse your opinions on every subject, right from politics to sports, from current affairs to your own affairs? Seriously? Did you pause for a milli-second and realize that your opinion matters to something as redundant as the hair on my privates? So, get a hold on yourself and stop wallowing in self-pity that someone, somewhere raised a question about your credibility. Stop giving your fake aggression there.

If you want to contribute to something, take the effort to do it on your own time and you own space. Don't fucking publicize it to the whole world. Do it gracefully, or is that too much to ask? If you want to opinionate on something, get your personal life in order first. Don't come and give your thoughts on matters relating to violence, values, culture and tradition when you land up knocking the shit out of the bartender, causing havoc in an inebriated state at some party organized by your kith. Speaking of parties, you don't have to flaunt your birthday to the whole world when there are those who don't even know theirs. Even if you want it, do it behind closed doors and not for the cheap publicity.

Work for something you believe in. Not because you are getting millions to promote that something. And, for God's sake lose the attitude, arrogance and contempt that you so freely display. So what the fuck if it is an old idea? Gone are the days when people with sane minds blindly purchase the product you endorse. Deal with that, bitch!

Celebrity is as celebrity does...my ass! It not long before fame returns to knock the shit out of that pretense attitude.

P.S:If you think the female celebrity gets a respite sorry to deflate your ego. You have indeed proved that you are just a dumb bimbette!

An Open Letter

This comes at a time when, under hushed tones, sections of the media are baying for your blood...People who have never held a cricket bat are calling you out to hang up your boots out of a misplaced sense of media marketing and "breaking-news". And they seem to be doing it without any remorse, thinking only of the TRP ratings for their channels.

Suddenly, everyone has forgotten all that you have brought to us. For a very few, playing to win matches for your country is one aspect but you have given us much more. You have shown that qualities like pride, hope, courage and, dedication do really exist and have tried to encourage us to inculcate them in our daily lives. Each time you step onto the field, to represent your country, you have shown us that these qualities can be applied beyond the boundary ropes, in our lives. I can only think of our brave soldiers, besides you, who invoke these qualities as they stake claim to our security by offering their lives. Sadly, most of us are not made aware of the sacrifices they make to protect our sovereign integrity. So, we have to make do with you...

Suddenly, everyone appears to be questioning your integrity for a new "headline" to pop up every few minutes. Panic buttons are being pressed, one moment, the media claims that the team has let millions down while the very next moment, individuals like you are being singled out. Have they forgotten the number of times you have bailed the team out in the past? Have they forgotten the immense discipline you have displayed while making so many personal sacrifices for the team?

Suddenly, people want to infuse brash, callous. young blood into the team at your expense. Do they not realize the depth of the void this would create? Do they not realize, for these modern-age players, to carry your mantle forward, they need tutelage from you? Do they not realize, for all the combined laurels you have brought to the game and country, you have earned the right to call it a day and ride into the sunset?

A few of us would like to remember you for the humility and grace with which you have conducted yourself. We have tried to ape your game sometimes in our colony games but on most other counts, we have tried to live our existence based on the ideals and values you have set, for respect, charm, discipline are qualities not learnt or developed, but are in-built into the Indian middle-class strata of the Seventies and Eighties. The few of us cannot see ourselves identifying with the current "next-generation" of players and perhaps, no amount of their valour can change this view.

Amidst all this furore for your heads, you have maintained dignified silence. Please consider this earnest request to throw in your towels because the cynical world does not need you. It does not recognize the purity and innocence of your selfless services. This gentleman's game, which you have held so closely to your hearts is vanishing and as it's last dying breed of custodians, it will only be prudent for you to do the same. Retract from all of us into the darkness...for the remaining few of us, will accept this with a heavy heart. We may or may not have succeeded in emulating some your qualities in our lives but we are ready to acknowledge this our personal shortcoming to thank you for all you have done for us....

With utmost respect...

The Dark Knight

This is the first time I am writing about Rahul Dravid. There have been countless articles written about him and boy, what articles they have been! Two stand out in my opinion. A couple of superb tributes can be found here and here another similarly titled one here. I have attempted (albeit, only an attempt) to draw some inspiration from them for this one.

The fourth test match between India and England is in progress at The Oval as I pen this. The post-tea session on the fourth day to be exact. After spending around five hours at the middle, he had seen it all. The entire Indian team collapsed in front of him in the first inning. After carrying his bat, he was soon to walk out to open once again in the second inning. All in a space of around ten minutes!

Much has been written about Dravid. Some very poignant, some philosophical, some statistical, some euphoric and some motivating. For fifteen years, he has been my symbol for hope. When I needed to put in that extra hour of studies, I thought of Dravid. In all my failures, I thought of Dravid. After hard earned success, I thought of Dravid. When all else has gone against me, I think of Dravid...

To me, he is the pinnacle of struggle. He is the pinnacle of mastering that struggle. He is the unsung hero. When the night is dark, Dravid sticks his neck out and waits for the Light. When in the midst of the storm, Dravid waits for the calm. When the opposition attacks, Dravid waits. When all else is lost, Dravid waits...

Much like the pensioner who waits for the red tape to sanction his money, like the anxious man who waits for the birth of his child, like the school kids who wait for their exam results, like the Indian citizen who waits for the end of corruption, we all wait like Dravid. To me that's why Dravid is so special. His heroics so clearly relate to the struggle we undergo in our daily lives. We might succeed, we might fail, but, we wait. We can dream of emulating a Sachin Tendulkar but we can hope to live like Rahul Dravid. And to me, that is the greatest tribute I can pay to the man!

I have taken utmost care not to bring any statistical data into this. Nor any comparison. This is an article dedicated to Rahul Dravid and only him. It is my view on the amount of sacrifices he has made for the cause of the country. It is my view on how he is the backbone for the Indian team. It is my view on how he has always been the backstage artist for many a theatrical masterpiece. It is my view on how his on-field valor has scripted my pre and post-adolescent life.

Amidst all this contemplation and thought, Rahul Dravid takes guard and waits....

Cool Comfort

I have now realized that being cool and feeling cool are completely different things. I know of a good set of close friends, who, wholly fit into the "being cool" category. Having said that, I can say with certainty that, these good people will swear by their grave that being cool is not one of my traits. Believe you me, I have tried. But I'm just not cut out for it and I have made my peace with that!

But, feeling cool....that's an entirely different thing. There have been plenty of occasions in my life where I have felt cool, as if all the problems were lifted off my shoulders. And, for a fleeting moment, I made my place in my own limelight!

I shall attempt to, in this blog, take you through this journey which pretty much spans across my life thus far. Don't be surprised if you call some of my own, yours too!

-> Elevated to drinking coffee or tea instead of Bournvita
-> Wearing full trousers to school
-> First bicycle gang with friends
-> Lead actor in neighbourhood play (still fancy the lead actress :))
-> First dinner using fork and knife
-> Use of a tie outside of school
-> Cheering by classmates during farewell party speech in college
-> First cricket bat
-> First air-guitar imitation
-> First travel by air
-> First pair of shades (yes, those free ones with Rasna!)
-> Standing in front of the riders' seat on a scooter
-> First shave (and the stinging after-shave)
-> Coloured clothes to school on birthdays
-> Use of pocket money at school during "snacks-break" (I used to get Rs.50 per month then)
-> Use of ink pens at school
-> Bunking classes in college
-> Owning my first car/bike
-> Strip-club experience at Las Vegas
-> First beer

As you can infer, most of these "feeling cool" experiences (for me) have occurred during school/college days. Perhaps, that's why I look back fondly over those years. As we grow older, such instances to cherish diminish, as we get entangled in the web of life....

Driven By Cars

Well, this post has taken five and a half years in the making. This one, I am particularly proud of, not because of the content but the memories this brings me.

It is a well known fact that there is an affinity between men and cars. A bond that defies logic, a desire that fills many a heart, an adrenalin pump that surpasses expectations. Over the past few years, I have been fortunate enough to drive a bevy of beauties, women who respond to the slightest touch without a whine but more to the tunes of a grunt. Carnal pleasures aside, a bug called Wanderlust propelled these desires to ecstatic levels.

Over the past few years, I have taken many a road trip, burning miles and fuel to conjure up some classic journeys with good company. As a trusted ally, the car was the fulcrum of these trips. Over these trips, the joyous occasions and memories that were spent inside the vehicle all became an attribute to the vehicle, and the trip itself. It is difficult to explain how much of the burden of long haul trips the car has withstood, giving me only pleasures and comfort. Much of the success of these trips can be strung straight to the car and a part of me desired that the car could have been with us longer than the trip itself. To add to this, my own vehicle had been a brother-in-arm on many solitary journeys either in the heat of the day or the cool of the night. Somehow, a good car always produced good trips which, in turn produced great memories which, in turn strengthened the bonds of friendship. Oh what a perfect full circle! This actually overshadows the desire to try new vehicles each trip, which believe you me, coming from a guy is a testament to the magnificence of the car!

To this day, aside from my vehicle, three more cars come right to mind when I recall some memorable trips.

BMW 325i: Well, what can I say about this car that has not been already said by many? My first car ever and boy what a machine she was! A true driver's car combined with some kick-in-the-nuts German sturdiness! I have clocked more than 35000 miles spanning across 5 years and not once has there been complaints from her end. She has sheltered some of my most introspective moments all the while engulfing me with the warmth of the orange light emanating from the instrument dials that has duly given her a face. A five year relationship truly platonic! Thank you, Maya!

1) Toyota Sienna LE/XLE: Three words come to mind...Oh my God! Rental agencies call this a mini-van. I prefer to call it mini-memory. It is quite amazing that we have used this car over a couple of road trips fit for a king! This car has accompanied us across the stretch of America (well, almost). We have clocked close to 7000 miles across different road trips on this one and every bit of it has been wonderful to say the least. This car has taken us via Arizona, New Mexico, Missouri, Kansas, Illinois, Nebraska, Utah, Nevada, Colorado, Iowa and California. Spacious interiors, good sound system and a comfortable ride were some physical highlights. I fall short of words when it comes to mental highlights.....

2) Nissan Altima 2.5S: Again, a wonderful machine that is very close to the heart and wonderful to drive. This has taken us across the length and breadth of California over multiple trips amidst some great company and unforgettable times. Quite peppy despite it's size, great high quality interiors, large boot-size, quality sound system are some highlights.

3) Mazda 6: This machine was part of recent trip with friends and family thrown in. This car pretty much came out of the factory when we rented this. And, what a christening it received! We had clocked almost 3500 miles across 10 days over a wonderful wonderful trip. This was very special since it was driven by only two people for the entire duration of the trip. Again, very spacious interiors, smooth engine and a fantastic audio system were some highlights.

Having given due credit to the above special four vehicles, here's a full list of ALL the cars (and events in them!) I have driven over the past five and a half years.

1) Dodge Neon -My first drive in the States, in Texas
2) Suzuki Grand Vitara -My driving test
3) Pontiac Grand Prix -First freeway drive
4) Toyota Corolla
5) Nissan Sentra -Had only 8 miles on it when I rented this one! The newest car I have driven
6) Hyundai Sonata -First drive in Minnesota
7) Honda Civic -Friend's first love
8) Toyota Camry LE
9) Honda Accord GLX
10) Lexus SC400 -First drive in Seattle. Again, friend's first love
11) Mazda 3 -Seattle again, first female friend's car I drove
12) Subaru Outback
13) Pontiac G6 -Driven during my interview time with Qualcomm
14) Chevrolet Impala -First car after a full time job
15) Volvo XC90 -First drive in New Jersey
16) Ford Focus -Last car driven after graduating Masters
17) Acura TSX
18) BMW 530i -First stick shift in the States
19) BMW 135i
20) Chrysler Pacifica -First drive in California
21) Infinity G37 S -First all guy road trip!
22) Ford Fusion
23) Volkswagen 2.5 Rabbit -First Mark Knopfler's concert
24) Ford Escape
25) BMW Z4 -First to clock 100 mph
26) Hyundai Santa Fe
27) Toyota Sienna LE/XLE
28) Mini Cooper S-Zippiest car I drove
29) Honda S2000
30) Nissan Altima
31) BMW 328i
32) BMW 335i
33) GMC Yukon
34) Volkswagen Jetta -Car with the best road trip mileage
35) Infinity G35
36) Mercedes Benz E-Class -First super luxury car
37) Mazda 6
38) Toyota Prius -First Hybrid
39) Ford Mustang -Beast of a machine. Last car driven in USA
40) Lexus IS250 -Smooth as silk
41) VW Golf GTI -Wolf in Sheep's clothing
42) BMW 325i - Maya-My only love