College Street on a Sunday

Sunday holds a special day in the life of Raj. It is the day when he thinks everything in the world has stopped and given him the full-fledged freedom to live at his will. It is also the day when the past 6 laborious days in a software company provides respite to his degenerated bones and a sterile rounded back. It is the day of sleep, it is the day of bracing to the warmth of a 'barher chai (tea served in a pot)' and taking a walk in the College Street, the most romantic spot for folks who crave dating a book is much better than making love in a moving car.

Shortly after the 10th cigarette had covered his whole room in a dark shade of cloud Raj switched off his laptop and cuddled in his bed. These days he is short of sleep. It has been a quite a hectic month and he has often slept in the chair of balcony. So much depravity brought an end to his relationship with Yasmin, who never returned his calls nor offered any reasons as to their breakup. Bitch!

The clock struck 11. It always does. Raj took pains to open his eyes and could see the cloud outside his 3-storey house at Tollygung. It may rain. It always does on Sunday. Sometimes it even rains when it is supposed to. He took his mobile phone and unintentionally checked his emails. It is a routine that has become a bad habit. A large pile of emails look garbage to him. He decide to log out and goes to the bathroom.

Shortly the breakfast is done and his clothes are dumped into the washing machine. It takes half an hour for him to do the rest of the remaining choirs before he bolts the lock and takes his car out. But today he does not. He misses Kolkata metros. He decides to take the metro today to Esplande. But being a Sunday the metro would operate only after 2pm. Raj decides to check the newspapers and whole shit of sadness lies before him- some nation is fighting another nation for a piece of land, someone has killed his father for property, some girls have been sold for money and what not. Disgusted he starts his first day with a smoke and checks out the girls passing by. Kolkata has changed. Girls converse more in english than they ever did in Bengali sorry Bong. Nyaka

He walks upto the Mahanayak Uttam Kumar Metro station and takes a look at couple of the legend pictures. Outside the latest Bengali hearthrob Dev's Rongbaz poster looks at him. He goes to the ticket counter and everyone of the 5 is closed except 1. The person over there is busy scratching his loins as he gives the coins and politely tell him to give the exact change the next time he travels.

Inside the hustle and bustle of metro platform he notices that everyone has got a space. All are involved with someone else or with themselves. The train arrives and as he enters he noticed that there is a rush to be the first one to enter. Raj could not hold his smirk- competition here too. Inside with the moving train the discussion on various topics are happening amongst people.

While some are elated that the government is contemplating of having a metro station named after Rituparno Ghosh other want the great Satyajit Ray to be felicitated first. There is another section debating that Sourav Ganguly should have played his last test match at Eden Gardens. Amongst all this activity he could see couple of aged persons doing rhythmic pelvis actions and falling on young girls. Passion!

No sooner he arrives in Esplanade he steps out and takes that walk towards the College Street. College Street is a km long street in central Kolkata and stretches from Bowbazar area to MG Road crossing. It has rained much quicker than he expected but that did not deter from hundreds of book lovers soaking in the rain and going through dozens of books. The Hawkers with their respective stalls and registration#s have been there for ages. Their forefathers may have started the book stalls and they have somehow managed to continue running the shops.


My first visit to the college street was for Tintin comics and we could get it there in cheap. I remember my parents giving me them as birthday presents. Next in the lines were the famous detectives Feluda, Holmes and Keerati collections. College days arrived and brought Raj's brother searching Brilliant Tutorials collections. For his mother he had got dozens of collections of Prasad, Desh and what not.

Raj started looking out for books and magazines on Sylheti culture and discovered quite a bit of materials on it. He took a few of them and sat near the strands. The rain has disappeared and an evening breeze of fragrance surrounded the atmosphere. Sunday being a Sunday allows folks from every corner to assemble together.

Raj knows that he has to get back home before the last metro and as he takes a pile of book on his hands he realizes that time has moved on and he should too. Kolkata has changed but the passion beating inside that heart has not decrement a bit.

Whose Call Was It During the High School Days?

I changed mid-school when I finished class VI. My mom wanted me to get enrolled in the very best school at that time. It was her insistence that made me take up the entrance exams for Class VII. That meant I was buried in the books for a long time post-final year Class VI exams. 

I still remember there was only one seat for Class VII and 22 of hopeful kids sat for the exams. I had done well but it was only during the Maths examination that I felt I had a good chance of sneaking in. I think I answered the questions all correctly. My mom was so nervous with the results that she sent dad and me to the school. I got in though I don't even think dad was hopeful of it.

The new school offered me an environment that was different from where I had come from. Not only I had friends coming from affluent families but the teachers were also different. I received a cold reception and used to be called names-hunchback was the favorite one of lot. I did feel embarrassed but I had a belief that one day all this would change. 

I have a friend Arindam Chatterjee also affectionately known to us as Mickey who used to be a constant companion to me. Mickey used to stay near my aunty's house, which meant us spending a lot of time together. Cricket, Tennis and you name it. I owe Mickey a lot especially for being there. We are still friends now that he has got his own kid to look after.

But this piece is not about friends nor about my school. It is about a perception that brilliant academic students are unfaltering epistles of goodness and excellence.  I don't understand how by scoring a 80% a boy or a girl could be nominated for an elocution or a quiz or a dance. It seems ridiculous now to consider why our teachers never took pains to realize that there is a talent in everyone.

I remember during a commentary competition (and I spoke about this when I was anchoring for programs) I had beat this so-called-studious boy, but because he was an excellent student, he got the nod. I was dismayed and you have to understand the word biasness was new to me. Years later I met the same teacher and she told me that she was proud of my achievements. But I could not appreciate it because when I needed it the most,she was not there.

Life goes on and maybe one day I'll have a kid to drop in to the school and attend parents-teachers meetings. But hopefully by that time they would realize that there is a talent in everyone and it is not the academic marks but the character and diligence that will shine and will keep on shining.   

That Bus Ride from Silchar to Capital

Growing up in a tiny little town had its advantages and disadvantages. First the advantage, you'll always be ambitious and eager to take up the next leap. Success stories of folks from your town who have made it to the big league will always be humming. And a chance for you to get acquainted with people is rather easy. You'll hear people, remember faces and never short of receiving and inviting them to your abode. 

Well, you can't always paint a rosy picture for the town you live has its disadvantages too. Firstly, the lack of infrastructure. In the rainy season, you will have more potholes than the town can hold and without rain you'll experience the potholes getting larger and larger. Ironical, it may sound but the town is in the leagues of Mumbai and Bangalore in the 'potholes' case. Then there is the massive communication failure. I am going to talk about one such failure and that if you have ever been to Silchar you bloody well know what I mean.

It was my first trip to the capital of Assam and in those days it was a big deal. With trains as noncommunicable than your ex it was a case to take a flight or travel in bus. I come from an affluent middle-class family and though I could have taken a flight my father a strict disciplinarian taught us never to take advantage of luxury when one could afford a rough one. Also, being young you are never short of muscles and could take strain. I thought that it was bit harsh on a boy weighing 50 kilograms then.

Anyways, there were two major Private buses plying from my town to the capital. But, I was booked into ASTC. ASTC stands for Assam State Transport Corporation-the picture of integrity and window to the North-East if that's not much grandeur. My abode was not far from the bus stand. I mean it was just a 5 minutes rickshaw drive. It was supposed to start at 5 and reach my destination morning 6-7. I reached on time and took my bus seat. 

It was a window seat enough decorated by my the last occupant's stinted beattle leaves. Then the other occupants entered and in a bit of 5 minutes the bus was full with already few co-passengers straightening their seats. When the other passenger protested, "ooo dada eita kita kora )bro, why are you doing this? " To this the other responded, "ghumatiam nani (I want to sleep):. I founded it strange though more comical with the burst of farthing now and then. Anyway, the bus move out of the platform in within few minutes we were on the way.

I think I was anxious a bit and you have to understand this was my first outstation trip alone. Anyways, after an hour-long drive we reached what I think was a place called KALAIN. The bus stopped for a while for refreshments and I could not understand why would people got down to have tea and refreshments. They could have had it at the bus platform. Hawkers and vendors of every kind entered the bus and soon it had turned itself into a tourist place. Kids from this place fancied a bus from my town to be one of the seven wonders and the passengers embodiment of success. 

I meanwhile decided to take a look at the place. I noted down the bus registration number should it leave me. I wandered here and there, took a nature call and then the 10 minutes break became 20 minutes and then the bus started again.

My co-passenger in this journey was a middle-aged man who kept on snoring during the entire trip. He made no interest in acquainting himself towards me nor I wanted honestly too. But you know when you travel with a person for more than 18 hours (originally scheduled for a 12 hours), you do want to exchanged pleasantries.

The Sun had retired by now and this is where North East spectacles you. The lush greenery everywhere and the mountains and hills takes you to their arms and for a certain time, which I did not keep a tab I completely lost myself. The beautiful and charming valleys enhanced me completely and I didn't know where time has got lost until something hit me. We were stuck.

I heard murmurs and could understand from the conversation that the bus had reached Meghalaya and stuck at a place in SONAPUR. This place has been in the news for almost every incorrect reasons mainly for the horrible roads and climate surrounding it. The bus stopped at a place and only when I got down I could understand the gravity of the situation. It was pitch dark but in this darkness I could view that there were a long queue of buses and trucks amidst a muddy road. Along it you could see the distant Sonai river flowing which if you fall down you'll end up in Bangladesh. To cut it short, it painted a very sorry picture.

Here, we had to wait 2 hours before we could cross the dreaded path and amidst much of commotion the journey started. Soon, the conductor put on a movie. I doubt the video cassette player was used because after 5 minutes the screen was blank. I was hungry by now and decided to wait a while the bus stopped again. I guess at 10 or 11 in the night the bus stopped at Lathumbai. 

Folks who have been to this part of the world know that Lathumbai has one of the largest restaurants in Meghalaya, and food is immensely fulfilling out there. But I have a policy of not having dinners or meals at a hotel whenever am traveling. I do have a good stomach but I don't take chances. Anyways, my adorable mother had prepared a delicious meal and packed it nicely for me. After having the dinner in the bus, I decided to get down and take a stroll. 

There was chillness in the weather and a kind of fog that could quickly develop into torrential rain anytime. I had put on my jacket and could see people taking food hurriedly inside the restro, few standing outside and having a smoke while others are busy purchasing vegetables. Meghalaya has one of the most fertile soil and 70% of vegetables in North East comes from Meghalaya. 

Amidst this chillness the bus started. I had by then became tired of the constant jerking of the bus. I cannot express this in words but this experience becomes a ritual when you travel frequently. But it was my first time.

I don't know when but it had to very late when I got a knocking on my arms. I hate someone disturbing my slumber but this was supposed to be an urgency. It seems that there was another stoppage. This time an accident. We had to get down from the bus. Someone obviously drunk had parked his car right at the middle of the road. Interestingly, an uprooted tree branch was also in the middle too. I can't believe both of them were aligned horizontally to each other. In later years, I came to know that these steps were taken by certain hoodlums to extract money from bus drivers.

The bus journey continued and though I was feeling drowsy I don't think the excitement of passing through Shillong kept me awake. The capital city of Meghalaya had been a constant dream for me. I had heard of the amazing places, the schools and colleges and of course the beautiful Khasi girls. In later years, I had been in relationships too with a beautiful girl from Shillong. Till today, she is amused as what I found in Shillong.

As I passed through Shillong, I could see from the window the town amidst a beautiful blanket of fog. Everything was serene, the church bells tingling, few shops still doing business and I could not notice a pollution free town. I don't know when I went to sleep but woke up again stranded. This time it was outside Dispur.

What possibly could now be the reason of this stranding? I had no idea. The cell was missing a few towers that meant I was incrementing tension of my parents awaiting for my call. It was the season of strikes and we had turned into one such occasions- people were demanding a hike in traffic fare. That meant another 3 hours.

Finally when I reached the capital city I saw more stars than I possibly could imagine. I called up a rickshaw and on getting in he told me "Dada, OTORO TOKA (18 Rupees).      

Flamboyance, Thy Name Kevin Pietersen

As far as I can remember I always wanted to do two things- watch Cricket and be a writer. And that I could do two things at a time speaks a lot of dedication not sure there was enough necessary motivation. The game itself is such a grandeur and its players bespectacled me with their innovation everyday. And one such player is Kevin Pietersen. Kevin is in a league of his own maybe joined sometimes by Virender Sehwag. But the aura and the audacity of this Natal born Cricketer just amazes me. He is a batsman who has defied logic of English Cricket and made it a commodity- that sells, buys and rolls eyeballs.

English Cricket dates back to the imperialist days when couple of them played the game for a leisure. They were watched and enjoyed by a group of women who knitted and cradled their babies while the men enjoyed a sip of rum. Let me not get back to those earlier days but speak about 70's when they had a good run. The batsmen in their ranks played the game in their merits, leaving anything outside the off stumps, hooked, straight drived and lifted their cap on reaching a milestone. There was no reverse sweep, Dilscoop and a lot of many crazy things that almost defied the laws of MCC batsmanship charter. 

Names of Denis Amiss, Colin Cowdrey, Geofreey Boycott used to be taken in reverence and for sometime Bottham started changing it. But then the game was played and the batsman in a typical conservative fashion. It was rumored that the English batsman would not be scoring 2 runs per over and will not be challenged to increment the run rate even it if the asking rate touched 6. A good example of their scoring could be evident in stats books but in One-Day Internationals they played poorly at 79 world Cup. 

With this text book Cricket enters Kevin Pietersen. History suggests that he didn't get a chance to play in South African team and as time was running out he met the English authorities and spoke to ex-English captain Nasser Hussain about it. He scored plenty of runs in English County and then drafted to the team. And we saw a resurgence of English Cricket in 2005. He changed everything- the batting stance, aggressive attitude to bowlers especially spinners and outrageous shots.

Kevin has all the ingredients to be a suspense director. I mean his innings like suspense movies have a nervous start, patience middle, aggressive second half-with cuts and misses and then some mind blowing shots. With Kevin and Sehwag there is everything the crowd gets and expects more of excitement. There was a theory once that test cricket is boring. Well, it changes a Kevin and Sehwag bats for they not only makes it enjoyable but keeps you on the edge. 

An anchor turned headmaster!

Once the cable television came it brought the world right at our bedroom. I do not say drawing room because I love to dwell my thoughts from the bedroom. Amongst all the channels that I regularly surf news channels have always fascinated me. While BBC and CNN are my favorites I do not keep myself from the Indian television news channels. And one of these days am going to stop watching quite a few channels because of these anchors who are more of headmasters. And I fathom why.

The profession of journalism which I am acquainted with from my college years has evolved. Electronic journalism has given rise to a great number of news channels and thereby news anchors. News anchors have a duty or responsibility to ensure that news is broadcasted in a fair and without no factual error. Over the years we have seen news slotted into a prime time spot where anchors dawn the mask of judge and prosecutor. All this for what- TRPs.

I follow news hours regularly where an anchor invites people to the studio, grills them with questions but at the same time has a 'NO' for all their answers. Even for a layman it is ridiculous. There is no attempt to even allow the respondent time to answer. And, that is not good for the viewers. The anchors keeps on asking questions and blatantly defends him whenever anyone points a question at him. He is a headmaster who is unanswerable. He decides if the other channels are inferior and whatever he promulgates is gospel.

This kind of news reporting and meaningless debates have to be investigated. Questions need to asked and demanded if the viewers have the right to know what ails the anchor from stopping people to respond. Are the anchors unsuitable to digest reports that maybe untrue to him or her?

For years Dr.Prannoy Roy was the face of Indian television news channels. Under his wings there have been more news anchors, but it seems that news for them has become noise. The more you could develop sensation, the more viewers would watch your program. The adage "Dog eats Man" holds true even today and I don't see that changing at all. 

When you watch news debate, you understand that you'll have participants having double-edged views, but the views and opinions of them are their sole discretionary. Just because you as a news anchor and have to make a point valid, shouting and taking personal potshots does not hold true. At the end of the day, it is nothing but political nonsense.

I hope common sense prevails and news anchors take their job a bit more responsibly. I hope in the name of "we are the first to report' sanity does not gets lost. Everyone should have an equal opportunity to talk. For a second we can stop running after TRP and be sane.

Talking Beauty!

In a recent study shows that 50%+ women prefer to be run over by a truck than to look fat and ugly. To women, looking fat and ugly is not only hurtful but also traumatic. If you happen to say someone “hey you have gained weight or you got a pimple,” it is like spilling acid on that person.  Female body image is constantly constructed and maneuver by the society. Body shame is crucially picked, distorted and twisted by social commentary.

The word self-image has lost its essence. Most of us are unaware how our self image is twisted and turned by the society. Conscious societal pressure forces us to think that we are ugly and not in- accordance to the living standard of beauty. We are maneuvered to look pretty and   beautify ourselves. Almond eyes, flashy eye lashes, sharp nose, bow like lips and fair and glowing skin is the set standard that we all are tricked to adhere to. Any sort of skin imperfection is stigmatized by our society. A woman is made to believe that she is ugly and ugliness is intolerable by societal standards.

Beauty is socially constructed and marketed. If you are fat, then you are supposed to be on endless, cruel diet regime. You are supposed to exit on salads, fat and sugar free foods. You will hear “fat talks”, things like how beautiful you would have looked had you lost some weight. And, finally comes in the magic of capitalism, called prodicti-fication. Market strategists make full use of socially tagged ugliness. There are endless list of products that you can use to reduce your weight and enhance your beauty. Not only weight reducing belts or machines, you can read fitness magazines, opt for fitness related DVD’s and moreover hire some personal trainer. Theses stream of things might help your reduce your weight but at the same time you will be highly dependent on these products. Your self-image is nothing but a market strategy from which the society gains some sort of pleasure and capitalists get their profits. 

Women are nothing but a medium via which sexual appetizing bar is kept high. Beauty is associated with fairness. If you are not fair then you need to thank the advertisement that pops up every two minutes. You are supposed to use the fairness crème which will definitely make you look fair. The acid test does not stop right there. If you don’t have almond shaped eyes then you can make it look like almonds. Kajal, eye liners are flooded in the market and you have to pick one, rather the right one that suits your eye-type. Trust me it is as complicated as it sounds here. You can correct the fines of your nose and lips only by expensive cosmetic surgeries. The more ugly you are made to look the more is the stake of profits.

From hair to you toe tip a women needs to maintain and beautify her so that she is not stigmatized among her peers. From birth starts the beautification process. Girls are made to wear floral pink dresses, fancy accessories, sparkly shoes etc. With adolescence she is suppose to use all those products that will enhance her beauty and after 25 you are forced to look like 15. If a girl chose not to go for a diet and happily eat cheese and mayonnaise, I would question “who” society is to decide on a girls looks and what beauty is. Beautification and producti-fication are all interlined to societal norms and self image is no longer what we perceive of ourselves but what society perceives us to be.

Behind those Doors!

Her offer letter was given by Mr. Sheti, her manager. She was extremely happy on getting her first job. It was her dream to work with her mentor whom she idol-worshiped since childhood. She will work directly under his guidance. She was happy that her prayers were finally blessed. In some cases, excitement blurs a part of reality and misgivings creeps in silently that you cannot predict its depths. At that moment gestures and signs speaks louder than mere words. On the context of asking her about her work he started to call her in his cabin. Leaving behind so many employees he showed some queer interest on her.  Surprisingly calls to be in his cabin perked more frequently. He hardly bothered on how she was fairing professionally. He started to be frank and posted more personal questions. As a fresher she thought it is polite to answer. Maybe Mr. Sheti was just trying to be friendly so that she comfortably settled down in her new environment. She was not accustomed to IT norms and that “maybe” was a big question mark that disturbed her peace.

His constant pestering caused her sheer agony and pain. On many occasions he tried to grab her hands.  Physically he was trying to get very close. What was he trying to do?   She was confused about his intentions. It was wrong to doubt his intentions. After all he was her idol -worshiped mentor.  As time went on, he started to ask her to work late to meet her deadlines and would intentionally grab this occasion to drop her back. Knowing that she stayed alone in a flat he started asking her out for dinners. His gestures made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. Having no option left, she blatantly refused his offers.

The anguish and agony that she underwent is indescribable and cannot be put down in words.  Constant questions lucked on her head. Why would her mentor make physical moves at her? Was it a part of IT norm? If such things are normal, then it is highly unprofessional and unethical, she thought. It was her first job and she was unaccustomed to any IT norms. She was definitely harassed by his behavior. But again, why would someone so senior intentionally harass her. Was she also a silent victim of harassment?  May be it is normal and part and parcel of IT environment.  She had no definite answers to these questions. These questions will remain unanswered and silently flow into the archive of untold agony and pain that many women face.

Yes, she gave the thought of complaining to higher management. Again confusion had drawn thick clouds on her head.  What would happen next? Will she be able to convince that she was harassed by her mentor or will she be asked to quit her job?  At that point of life she cannot afford to fight some legal battle. Her career was at stake. She thought hard. She had a family to look after and most importantly what if no company hires her again. With these questions lurking back on her tired mind, silently without complaining she resigned from her job. 

Her act may appear cowardly to many of us. But think about putting yourself in situation what would you have done. You have worked your entire life to get yourself placed and work with your mentor and suddenly things starts to fall apart. What will we do is the decision that “we” have to make.

Meet Mr & Mrs Dey (Part 1)

Life at 30 could have been far worse in the Dey household. Mr.Dey finds himself in soup owning to the major US recession and packed off his bags to Kolkata. All the while on his return trip from Santa Clara on an executive Air India jumbo jet, he had been busy rummaging on the thoughts of what his in-laws would say. 

Mr.Dey had married a wealthy rich girl from a posh family of Bengali household- the only daughter of a wannabe family who sent their daughter only to the famous Lorreto School so that she only dates rich guys. Therefore, when the time for her marriage arrived with a string of ex-boyfriends and drugs all they wanted was an NRI. They seriously wanted their daughter to get married and settled down in US. They finally got Subodh (SUUUUBOOOOD) Dey who was not a boy born with a rich spoon but an IIT passout he had made enough marks to land himself a posh 6-pack salary job and a villa in Santa Clara. They say the very few could make it such big and he was like the next Indian thing after Manoj Shyamalan. 

Life after marriage had been going great. Sex was good, money was flowing and everything that Mrs Dey could ask for. She became an integral part of the society throwing lavish parties. It was fun. She even had a few one-night stands with Goras without much inhibition. While Mrs Dey was enjoying all this, Mr. Dey was making his name in the silicon valley. He soon spearheaded the major IT companies and was getting much work to Asia. For him this was patriotism was-Get the jobs done in India. 

In between the hustle and bustle of their household, they planned to have a baby. Mrs Dey was conscious of the fact it would mean a cut-off her party life was reticent initially but then she did decided to have a baby. They did all that could be done to make the entire city know that an Indian was gracing their county. 

But then recession arrived. And all along their seemed to be chaos. People were going nuts and there were more people on the streets rather than on party halls. Houses were put out on sales for meager money and the business had its impact on Dey household. And then the doomsday arrived. Mr.Dey had planned it earlier but now he had to go back to India and plan to sell of its ancestral property. 

The plan was about to touchdown in Kolkata. Mr. Dey looked at his watch. The dawn had set in.       

My love for Kormangala Restaurants!

When I came to study in Bangalore little did the young heart in me realised that I would have fallen in love with this city. A city that I see now as my own city and have unlike most of the Bongs hardly face issues with food. In years that passed away, I have been living in Koramangala. In fact, I can't think of staying at any other place except Kormangala. Amongst all the glitz and glamor the place offers my heart goes to its numerous restaurants and the delicacies that these offer. I chose to mention two places here. Both pretty old and still retains its charm. 

Chicken Parmigana

The first of them is Casa Piccolla (now Casa Rivera). My memory dates back to couple of years when I chose to take my loving friend to that place. We had a good time and I do remember she complimented me on the place and the food. In years to go and more visits to this place, I had a whole bunch of delicacies. The Restaurant itself transformed offering Chinese with its usual Continental food. 

For starters, you can try Roasted Egg Plant and an Organic Mixed soup. I chose to go easy on the starters and have it with much time at hand. Then for main course, there is a lot of things in the menu but and there is a but if you wish to have a dish that would in any day be my favorite then please go for Chicken Parmigana. It is a Southern Italian dish made with a shallow-fried sliced filling, layered with cheese and tomato sauce, then baked.Variations are made with breaded meat cutlets. For a single person you can have all this dishes for in less than US $ 10.

The next place that I haunt regularly is FRIENDS. It is one of Kormangala's oldest and popular restaurants. And just like Casa Rivera it also offers taste buds Chinese and Continental cuisine. For starters you can go for Chilly Chicken with Hot and Sour soup. Then, if you love steaks then I suggest you can try Mushroom Steak or Whiskey steak. Both of these are served with a bowl of rice or mashed potatoes and I can vouch you would love the flavor and content.

Kormangala houses a lot of restaurants and these days there has been a sporadic increase in the numbers. I hope all of them have scores of eaters and may the locality and city continue to grow. 

Memories of Down Under!

I love Sydney. It is one of the most beautiful and exotic places to visit. And if you happen to like water sports, there is no other place that comes close to Sydney. No sooner you reach Kingsmith Airport, a certain birdie will let you know that the airport authorities are very strict about things that you bring in Australia. But then if you tell them that you are visiting Sydney Cricket Ground and Don Bradman is the arguably the best Australian till date, you have a chance to beat them. It is a sports loving nation and which is why all that happens in Australia is anything but dullness.

My earliest memory of Sydney Cricket ground dates back to 1992 World Cup Cricket. We had a Black & White television set in our house. My eldest brother who used to sleep after the crows started morning hymns used to tap me on shoulders and tell me that Ian Chappell is away for the toss with the two captains. It was an advantage in those days to switch on TV and get your channels. Because you just had one channel. Doordarshan inspite of all its commercial breaks and insipid behavior was your savior. You could hear the birds singing and seagulls all across the SCG while Bill Lawry and Richie Benaud used to take the guards. I think Sunny Gavaskar was the first Indian commentator to be included in Channel's Nine commentary team and that was quite an achievement considering stalwarts like Richie Benaud, Frank Tyson, Bill Lawry, Tony Greig,and all the other Johnnycomboys made it an experience.

Growing up in the IT city of India is fun because I had amazing friends with whom I could talk on everything. Friends who had a voice in everything. 1999 when I saw the likes of VVS Laxman and Tendulkar whooping massive runs in SCG. It was the time when Tendulkar's captaincy was tested and we used to lose matches after matches in SCG. MCGrath and Shane Warne had by then became the lethal front of Australian bowling side. And more or less the world was witnessing the insurgence of a cricketing side that went to dominate the world in the next decade.

The next time was in 2003 when I saw Sourav Ganguly determined to make a statement on the Australian scene. If there is anything that I really feel MS Dhoni should imbibe from Sourav is to get that intensity which Sourab has and how to get under the skins of Aussies. Sourav was a champion in that and much like today he thought it was important that India started well in Down Under. And he did. We drew in the series and almost should have won the match at SCG- Steve Waugh's farewell but the umpires had a different story to tell.

Lots of things was happening in Indian cricket. IPL,large merchandise and all. Both the boards realized the importance of Gavaskar- Border trophy which is why you see more matches between the sides. Note that ACB invites team which they feel has got the pulse of the folks going. In the past, it was Lloyd's team.

The series is happening at the moment and India is behind 2-0. I would introspect about the series after the test matches gets over. I'll come up with another memoir then.

When it was never a 'payback' series

I never agreed upon the wisdom of having a cricket series titled 'payback'. Marketing evangelists would agree that whatever branding you may choose to do at the end of the day if products are not of equal value then it loses its shine.  This is why I disagree the labelling of the recently concluded series as 'payback' because the circumstances in which the games were played were entirely different.

India went under the hammer recently when they lost everything they could. MS Dhoni even lost all the tosses. They played in cold weather conditions that they are not bred in, icy cold weather where the players had hands under the trousers more than they had with the cricket balls.

The age old dictum of naive playing seam bowling came to haunt them as they struggled against the English quicks and made Anderson a superhero. But in comes England to India with the hope of a series victory. And they get hot and humid summers. The ball turns viciously and the same players who were recently awarding comments to the likes of Tendulkar and Laxman were mystified by spinners. To make it worse in the last one-day at Kolkata Dhoni brought Manoj Tiwari as spinner and he got a wicket too. It just makes the sides so different.

Here is Alstair Cook who has a batting, bowling and fielding coach travelling with him but he could not make them do anything. Swan who was titled as the next spinning legend was played with so much ease that it made Samit Patel cry. But lets face it- English were overconfident.

It was a disappointing series for the English should have played the spinners well but they did not. India failed to adapt to the seaming conditions recently so I sense unless English comes and play 4 tests in India and India beats them convincingly we should refrain from using that word.

MatchPoint

It’s half past nine and am busy sipping a nice cup of ice lemon tea at my favorite den Boca Grande. The place is unusually quiet today. And while I do not mind the occasional tid bits of human voice crooning from some place, I am enjoying this romantic quietness. Sometimes, I could get into the deepest of thoughts and come out with imaginative ideas. These ideas could never solve my problems and yet I enjoy thinking about it. Something was going on my mind for the past few weeks. Today, it sharpened into a belief and a die-hard romantic of Indian Cricket all I could think is 'administrators need to give few answers'. 

I take great pride whenever someone tells me you are from a cricket-crazy nation, that you have  a billion-dollar product IPL and have a galaxy of stars who captures the billions of imagination onto the field. I reflect for a while and understandably it is true. No one other thing has united the country like Cricket does not even Bollywood movies. In fact Bollywood has over the years tried to associate itself to the game for a multitude of reasons including promotional activities. For how could you make the sense that you have stars from Shahrukh Khan to Shilpa Shetty owning Cricket teams? Nothing bad at all!

I started watching Cricket in the 90s and just like any other kid who has an elder brother and a mat at the backyard played the game. Earliest years were of three brothers trying to outwit each other with tennis balls. In fact such was my passion for the game, years later I used to see other kids playing at the backyard and doing running commentary.

As things evolved over the years and technologies crowded the living rooms, everything associated to sports was marketing. Cricket is a product and we had each one of our cricketers making billions of money just being associated with it. I saw it and I realized that if you are a professional there is no harm.But then you became the No.1 Test Playing Nation and suddenly you are at some peak where others are trying to reach. This is where Indian administrators got it all wrong. 

We played tough and very good Cricket with teams that had good players. And it could have not come without the likes of Dravid, Tendulkar, Sehwag, Dhoni, Ganguly, Zaheer and the rest.

The administrators seem to notice that the public were paying more attending to the One Day Internationals and Twenty Overs Games. Those were the avenues where money was flowing. The Indian Cricket Board became a rich board overnight. And as money started to flow the games took a different direction. Every series that India plays we identified more 50 overs than test matches. Somewhere down the link something was amiss. But I did not complain. When we win matches, we do not. Quantity rather quality was BCCI's topmost concern.

When you become world no.1 you will be replacing another team to the throne. India replaced Australians who have in every sense dominated for a decade. They won three world cups in a row, won 18 test matches in a trot and made every other test match playing country look meek to them. In fact, critics had even went to opined that if Aussies were not dethroned it would be very bad for the game of Cricket. But, so many lessons to be learnt from this amazing side? their discipline, hard work, professionalism and above all the passion to win. They never wanted to lose. In fact, when they came down from No.1 position, it was due to partly their players retirement than anything more. Watching Indian team performing/Stonewashed in England I am concerned and wanted to ask the administrators, "are you saying that we can play an one-off practice match and be ready?" its just a joke.

And the apathy is while India were losing games after games, all the board was thinking was how could we have the great Indian team One-Day team announced. I mean the priority seems to be win One Days and even if we lose test matches it is fine. 

Somewhere down the line, it hits me badly to see an Indian cricket side performing poorly in all the matches and yet there is not even a sigh of repent. Words need to be spoken and spoken in a tough fashion. As the game's patriot I demand that only the Cricketers but also the administrators should be taken to tasks. If I were to watch India playing I wish to see them trying hard in the field. And in doing so if they lose that is fine with me.

It's half-past ten now and I better leave for my apartment. The place has just started to fill up, and while I walk past the door, a young lady requests for the Cricket score. I could not stop laughing. By the way, do we have a second-string side or we will wait another 5 years here?

Confession of a lover!

I have been in a relationship for quite sometime now. It has not been that quiet. We had our odd differences and arguments. I have been at faults most of the time. I sometime feel I could have avoided that argument or fight. But it just happen. I just feel I have not been able to do justice to her love. More so, when your lover is an eternal romantic. The only thing that brings smile to her face is me.



I know that she cannot even stand a day without speaking to me. Everything she does is to make me happy. It makes her smile whenever she watches me smiling. My goals, dreams and objects of interest are considered to be her own. I do not how she does it, but she is just too perfect. 

She is younger to me in years, and I know this is her age to be as naughty and chulbulli she could be, but sometimes I forget. I would forget and rationalize with her of not being practical. But, Raj how could she be? she is so young and she needs my love and support to make her feel that? I feel this blog post is in a way my reconciliation to the fact of those unspoken words and deeds.

I do not know if there is something called true love or lover. But, even if someone makes you feel that the person is just there for you, then it is love. Love is a beautiful thing and I hope I can do justice to it. It is a privilege to be in someone's arms forgetting all the sadness and pathos of life. I wish to be loved and you fulfill it with all your charms. We will have to travel a lot, but I am sure we will cover the distance with a smile. Thanks is not the appropriate word here, but I am in all awe of you.

John and Raghu's wonderful Chemistry!

{Pic source:http://mtv-roadies-6.blogspot.com/2009/04/baap-of-popularity-raghu-ram.html}

I wonder why Abbas Tyrewalla had to take Palki for the role of Mishika. Apart from her, I found each one of the characters fitted perfectly to the fore. And, those of you who have watched Jaane tu he jaane na, this movie has nothing new for you. But those of you who have not watched this movie, you will like it for sure.

Shot at the locales of London, the movie is about friendship and love. It becomes interesting when love causes all the problem. Each one of the characters has a love twist in the movie. Starting from John to Raghu to Manasi Scott and Palki- each one has a love angle.



John finally exhibits some emotions; he is a tough-hearted hero who suddenly finds himself in a comical situation. Raghu is the best of the lots with his half-witted humor and sarcasm. Palki is ok. She is sensuous but she is too old to do a song and dance role. 


You will get to see a lot of youngsters and couples making their way for this movie. It has a large quotient of love added to sacrifice in it. And, I am sure they will appreciate it a lot. Usually, these movies are Abbas' forte. Abbas usually writes the script for his movies, and you could see that he has used a typical youngistan lingo in the movie. Good job! 


Raghu and John are there in 80% of the scenes in this movie. They share a wonderful chemistry. You can easily relate Raghu's character with MTV Roadies. I think it could only be the saving grace of the film. The film will run for some weeks, but I guess it is short-lived. I won't mind watching it-this time with my girl.