2017 Bangalore Test

BEML end, Chinnaswamy

I am tempted to say that Bangalore 2017 is the best test match of our lives. But the heroes of Calcutta 2001 won’t let me do that.

I am glad that the test match got over, though I would’ve secretly wanted it to carry on for ever. Let me rephrase it, when was the last time, we followed every ball of every session of every day of a test match, from the edge of our seats? I don’t remember. Or simply, there hasn’t been a test match, as good as this one at the Chinnaswamy, in the last 15 years. When I came out after having watched the Day 1 action from the N stand at the BEML end, I was tired and worn out, much like the players, and was cross because 8 of our batters had gifted their wickets to Nathan Lyon. I sought answers for so many questions. “How could you let a visiting spinner dominate you? How could you bring back the horrors of Panesar and Swann? We have attacked even Warne and Muralitharan in their prime and aren’t O’keefe and Lyon lesser mortals?” I thought the test was over and the Border Gavaskar trophy would simply stay in Australia. But, everyone including the Umpire’s call had other ideas.

I followed the Day 2 action on TV, Day 3 on Hotstar, Day 4, again on TV and not going to the stadium in these 3 days, will remain one of the massive regrets in my life. I should’ve been the 12th man from the stands. India’s resurgence and discipline in the first session of Day 2 took us back to Calcutta. But the turning point of the game has to be Ishant’s spell to Steve Smith and the funny faces that followed it. It was fodder for the meme makers, fans and Virat Kohli. Oh, and before this, Ashwin produced the mirror image of his ball to Amla in the T20 semifinal, to send back David Warner and made millions, like me, join the send off party.

None of the defensive strokes bored anyone. There was action in every ball, literally. Every leave drew comments from close-in fielders. Funny faces followed every time the ball beat the willow. Kohli loved the scenes. He would have paid millions, even his IPL contract, to be in this moment. The moment even got to Pujara, of all people. Yes, even to Cheteshwar Rahul Dravid Pujara. The cameras captured him involved in the chatter. Day 2 saw only 197 runs scored off the 90 overs. But that was already the best day of the Home Test season. Chinnaswamy showed the world that it loved its test matches like Lords and MCG, as the crowd swelled even on a weekday.

When the going gets tough, classical test batsmen know how to survive. They will negate the naughty bounce by shuffling. They will negotiate the flight, loop and classical off spinner’s wicket taking trajectory. They will not poke outside the off stump. They know exactly when to drive and when, not to. They play with the opposition’s patience. They prod. They defend. They leave. They grind it out. They survive. And slowly, they notch up the runs. That’s what Dravid and VVS did in Calcutta. That’s what Dravid did in Jamaica and Leeds. And that inspired two shy young men in Rajkot and Mumbai, who saw these knocks on TV. Fifteen years later, they pull off the unthinkable. They produce the partnership of the decade, which the knowledgeable fans rate, as the best since Calcutta. No wonder that Kohli rated Pujara and Rahane as the team’s best test batsmen. But it all started with KL Rahul, the prodigious dude from Bangalore, who can switch with ease, from batting like Dravid to batting like Sehwag. 90 and 51 when the bowlers were all over the batters, should inspire him to emulate the gentleman with whom he shares his name and city.

I couldn’t miss the Day 4 action. It would’ve been criminal. So, I decided to work from home. But I could barely work. I knew where my thoughts were. And just like that, the Aussie pacers orchestrated our batting collapse. It was breathtaking fast bowling. I had the best seat in the house on Day 1 in the N stand to see Starc ‘air’ swinging the red cherry. It was quite a sight. I could see how it curved, sitting 80m away. But it didn’t find the timber then. And when it did, on Day 4, it looked beautiful, like it had found its rightful hang out place. We were down from 4-down to all back in the hut.

188 to win. Plenty at stake. Kohli’s pride. Ashwin’s pride. Chinnaswamy’s pride. India’s pride. And yeah, the frigging Border Gavaskar trophy. Recent stats showed it was unconquerable. But Warner could conquer it in a session and a half. Smith could play on for ever and make runs. Renshaw could carry on despite, having to answer the nature’s call. Defending the score wasn’t going to be easy. And then it all began to happen. Renshaw fell. Warner looked to end Ashwin’s career. He tried to sweep, slog-sweep, paddle-sweep and even the reverse sweep, but couldn’t connect. And when he did, it sailed over long on. Ashwin, for the first time in the test, felt the pressure. Kohli would’ve been tempted to take him out of the attack. But he somehow, gave him another over. Warner’s eyes lit up. He could’ve sent the ball to Brigade Road or even the metro. But he loses his balance, almost falls over and importantly, fails to connect. Trapped. Leg Before Wicket. Umpire’s call seemed like a thing of beauty to billions. Two down. The bounce was uneven. Even Ishant Sharma was unplayable to Steve Smith. Everyone wanted the ball be given to Umesh Waqar Younis Yadav. Kohli acknowledged. Umesh came charging in, from his short run up. The ball skidded. It kissed the worm in the pitch, after pitching. It bounced that high. All this happened at pace, at 90 miles an hour. The shooters continued. One of them traps Shaun Marsh well outside the off stump. Trapped. Leg before wicket. Cacophony followed. A miscommunication during the DRS discussion saw him walking back. Umesh’s next shooter, rolls of the pitch and fetches him the wicket of his career. Steve Smith’s third brain fade moment in the match happens. He was not good at abbreviations, from school days. Dressing Room Review System is going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Pujara rushes in. Kohli is animated. He gives a mouthful to Smith. Umpire shows Smith the way. Kohli has a lot of things to say. Chinnaswamy is on its feet. The boos begin. Four down. It’s India’s game to lose now. I compose a couple of tweets to express my displeasure at Smith’s behaviour. Another wicket falls. And in a matter of another 15 minutes, Ashwin runs through the Aussie line up. Another game. Another fifer. Kohli starts sprinting. He gestures his celebratory pose towards Kumble and the entire Chinnaswamy. The series is squared. Michael Vaughan is elated. So, are the poms. Border Gavaskar trophy is alive. Ah, Bangalore 2017 is the best test match of our lives, along with Calcutta 2001. I am going to preserve the match ticket. It is Gold.

Depressing

10m air rifle qualifying round.

Two Indian Olympic medalists are participating. First series of shots are fired. Gagan Narang, the bronze winner in London 2012, leads. Abhinav Bindra, the 2008 Beijing Olympic Gold medalist, doesn’t even come in top 10. There are Italians, Chinese, Americans and all those countries that tore the USSR into pieces, competing. Next rounds of shots begin. Gagan begins his parachute fall and ends up at No.23. Disappointment. It’s okay, he has 2 more events left. Bindra, on the other hand, goes up and down. Given the fickle nature of this sport, you can’t expect anything but topsy-turvy. With a string of 10.8s, he ends up in top 8. Boom. Bang. Qualifies for the finals.

I followed all these, during the journey back home in the Bangalore traffic. My Twitter TL was an explosion of sorts. I kept refreshing it every half a second. When was the last time that a grossly unpopular sport was making me nervously excited? Or for that matter, when was the last time, an entire nation followed shooting from the edge of their seats? This must be the waves of change. Or even Tsunamis of change. But do you know who is responsible for all this? It’s the same man Bindra, who out of no where, made sure that the Indian National anthem was played at an Olympic arena after 28 years. One gold in 2008 became a silver and bronze in London. Shooting became a household name. And that to me, will remain Abhinav Bindra’s biggest achievement.

Abhinav Bindra is more than all the role models put together. The stories about his preparations are unthinkable. You need a stronger word than perseverance to describe that. If you get time or are struggling in life, grab a copy of his autobiography. You’ll feel inspired to do something worthy in life.

10m air rifle final

Shooters take positions. Few rounds of shots before the elimination begins. First round ends. Bindra is at 7. On the verge of elimination. A whole nation is concerned. Everyone watching the India-Germany hockey match has changed TV channels. Ukrainian shooter is eliminated. Next set of shots follow. Live coverage shows only the Russian, Hungarian and Croatian shooters. We are livid. How is an Indian shooter less important , you rascist pigs? But we do hear a huge roar after every shot. The scorecard after every 2 rounds indicate that Bindra is making a dramatic progress. At one point, he climbs as high as No.2. Only 4 shooters are in the fray. 3 of them will win a medal, for sure. Prayers begin. Across regions. Across religions. A whole nation is united at last. Bindra shoots and so are the other three. The score card gets some major shuffling. Bindra 4th. Russian 3rd. Italian 2nd. Ukrainian 1st. One more shot and we will have the bronze medalist. Bindra spikes up 10.2. Russian manages only 10. It’s a tie. Like that India Pakistan T20. They go into the superover tie-breaker. One shot each. Bindra hits 10. He is expression less. But the shot is excruciatingly less. A billion heart beats stop. All eyes are on the 22 year old Russian. He pauses, sets himself and shoots 10.5. It’s all over. There is depression all around. Another Olympic event and another South-African-cricket-team-at-world-cups moment. Stories of PT Usha in 1984 Los Angeles go flashing by. Another “missed by a whisker” result. Seconds later, Germany score the winner against India with 3 seconds left. Brain freeze. Tears. And the pain. The entire system must be meant to jinx us, our Olympians.

The wait for the 27th medal continues…..

As heartbreak eases, it’s time to say “Thank you Abhinav Bindra for all the inspiration. Yours has been an inspirational journey. I’ll keep going back to your autobiography….. “.

The ‘Over’ of a lifetime: As it happened

                                                               Nehra Ji

Jasprit Bumrah has just sent down his sixth yorker of the over. Chinnaswamy applauds. Couple of players rush to pat the bowler on his back. The bowler breathes a sigh of relief. He had a terrible time on the field early on. But those are past memories now.

All eyes turn to the big screen.

“11 Runs to Win from 6 Balls”.

All eyes, now turn to the center of the pitch. There is a mini round table conference there. Everyone knows who is going to bowl the last over. Hardik Pandya, the swagger from the Wild West (Baroda), the funky hairstyle owner, the brash young man, the obvious six hitter, the generous six donator, the displayer of youthful energy on the field and at times, a Sreesanth impersonator, is entrusted with that duty. This could change his life, both ways. He could be a hero who would be celebrated. He could also be a villain, who would be the butt of all jokes on social media. His newly constructed glass house, could be pelted by stones. The next 5 minutes is going to decide everything. He is seen smiling though, pretending as if he is cool. He cracks a joke with the umpire. And slowly, strolls his way to the bowling mark.

He starts his run up. There is tension written all over him. After all, this is Chinnaswamy. A bowler’s nightmare. The home of high scoring T20 thrillers. The six hitting paradise. The small boundaries. Plus, the opposition is not Australia, its Bangladesh. You can’t lose to Bangladesh and all. It’s a prestige issue. We helped them get Independence. And their fans and advertisements have been tastelessly taking a dig at us. They knocked off our captain’s head with the help of Photoshop. We simply cannot lose this game.

First ball. Hardik tries a yorker outside off. The ball deserved a boundary. It should’ve been drilled to the short cover boundary. Even a Pakistani batsman would’ve done it. But it is Bangladesh. They can’t do it. The ball is easily stopped by the boundary patroller Sir Jadeja. Single.

“10 Runs to Win from 5 Balls”

Another round table conference begins. This time it is chaired by His Highness Nehra Ji. Dhoni casually chips in. The three of them turn around 360 degrees and look at the field. Nehra Ji tells him what to do, where to bowl and at what length. The loyal disciple Pandya nods in agreement. Everyone walk back and take their positions. Pandya runs in. With his typical ‘medium pacer from the street cricket’ action, he sends a length ball. The sort of balls you need as a batsman, to boost your confidence. Venkatesh Prasad used to hit sixes of those dollies in the practice nets. But it is Mushfiqur Rahim. He fires it wide off extra-cover and manages to get a boundary. Only a boundary. But, it is 4 runs nevertheless. The tension slightly diffuses. You know the match is slipping away. This is after all Chinnaswamy. A bowler’s nightmare………….High scoring………..Six hitting…………small boundaries…….

“6 Runs to Win from 4 Balls”

Nehra ji is not amused. Even he would have tonked that for six. He starts a conversation with Dhoni and summons Pandya to the middle. The lecture begins. Some traffic patrolling follows. Fielders swap positions. Yuvraj is seen relaxing, fully aware that he will not be the punching bag this time. Chinnaswamy’s noise levels reduce by half. Kohli is sporting a gloomy look. Surely man, he can’t lose at Chinnaswamy. This is his home. Meanwhile, Nehra Ji has finished communicating his ideas to Pandya. Let us see what he does. He sends a short gentle medium paced delivery. Normal batsmen would’ve conveniently hooked that and deposited in to the crowds. But it is Mushfiqur Rahim. He has Misbah’s genes. He goes for THAT shot. Galaxy surprisingly, the ball manages to kiss some part of the willow and gravity defyingly, beats Dhoni’s hands. 4 more. Rahim lets out a celebratory cry. Boss, that should be after you win a world cup. Not now. Anyway, Bangladeshi dugout explodes. Chinnaswamy is stunned. The stadium has been muted. Kohli is about to cry.

“2 Runs to Win from 3 Balls”

Nehra Ji has given up. Still, Dhoni drags him to give Pandya some final advises. Rohit Sharma joins, probably to remind everyone that he too captains an IPL side. Everyone feels relaxed. There is no way that we can win the match. I manage to take a loo-break and come back. I am not going back to the bean bag. I decide to stand. Pandya bowls a gentle half tracker. I have seen Gayle dispatch every such delivery to Cubbon Park. But this is Mushfiqur Rahim. He is half the size of Gayle and has one-tenth of the power that Gayle possesses. He goes for the pull and sends the ball straight to the fielder in the deep. Chinnaswamy slowly makes noise. But they aren’t convinced fully. Its just two required and any sane mind would knock that off. Two singles would do.

“2 Runs to Win from 2 Balls”

Nehra Ji is expressionless. He hardly believes that we could win. Without much interest, he shows Pandya where to pitch it in. Pandya nods. And after all the advises, he forgets to even pitch the ball. Juicy full toss. Slow ball. Short boundaries. Mahmudullah’s eyes lit up. There is a chance he could do a Dhoni and set off on a victory run. He wanted to be a hero and gives in to the situation. He smashes the full toss. If it was Dhoni, the ball would have hit the roof of Chinnaswamy. He has patented this art of finishing games with a six. But this is Mahmudullah. He would not even clear the Chinnaswamy boundary. The ball neatly nestles in Sir Jadeja’s hands. Sir Jadeja dives. The players rush to him from everywhere. Nehra Ji gives out a cheeky smile. Pandya has gone bananas. The noise levels increase. We can now smell victory. But all three results are possible. The super over possibility is looming large.

                              Already a contender for Dronacharya Award

“2 Runs to Win from 1 Ball”

2007 Johannesburg memories come flashing by. Within a couple of minutes, Joginder Sharma starts trending worldwide. Pandya is a Joginder Sharma kind of bowler. All the five balls have been worse than what Joginder bowled. Each one of them deserved to go for a boundary. What is with Dhoni and trying his luck with mediocre bowlers. Final round of talks begin. Nehra Ji is animated. He wants to win a Dronacharya award badly. He starts the tutorial. Dhoni remains ice cool. Nehra Ji is telling him all the possible deliveries. He tells him you can try a bouncer, or a slow bouncer, or a straight Yorker, or a wide Yorker from around the wicket, or an off cutter, or a back-of-the-hand slow ball. After discussing the possibilities, Nehra Ji has the final word. Bang the ball in, he gestures. Pandya okays. Dhoni nods. Chinnaswamy is on its feet. Kohli is about to explode. MC-BC is just about to come out. Ravi Shastri is being missed in the commentary box. Pakistani fans bite their nails in anticipation. Pandya runs in, for one final time in this never-ending over. As advised by Nehra Ji, he bangs the ball in. The batsman goes for an imaginary upper square cut. He misses the ball. Cacophony. Dhoni collects it. He starts sprinting. So does the non striker. Its a direct 100 m race between the two. In a flash, Dhoni knocks the bail down. Non striker reaches. It is difficult to judge on naked eye. The umpire asks for the third umpire to step in. Dhoni is not sure. The non striker is expressionless. The TV replays start. The front foot is all okay. And now, for the frame that would be the decider.

                                                  Wow, This Frame!! Frame it.

YES. THE NON STRIKER IS SHORT OF HIS CREASE. CHINNASWAMY ERUPTS. CRACKERS GO OFF IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. YO BANGLADESH, YOU NOW KNOW WHO THE BOSS IS.

OH, DHONI. YOU USAIN BOLT. YOU LIGHTNING. YOU CHEETAH. YOU RACING CAR. YOU THING OF BEAUTY. HOW DID YOU DO THAT? FUCK.

OH, MY DEAR NEHRA JI. YOU LION. YOU TIGER. YOU LEOPARD. YOU CHEETAH. YOU THING OF BEAUTY. HOW CAN YOU BE SO LEGENDARY????? YOUR NAME SHOULD BE RECOMMENDED FOR THE DRONACHARYA AWARD.

 

 

 

Peaceful Pondicherry: Give time a break

                                     Some things haven’t really changed

“Peaceful Pondicherry. Give time a break”

The promoters of Pondicherry tourism couldn’t have chosen a better tagline than this. The coastal town is unique in its own way. There is calmness around. There is peace. There are no inhibitions. Everything seems to stroll along. Everyone backs the idea of ‘living in the moment’. It is pretty much like the good old days. There are no strings attached. There are no commitments. And there is every chance that you might think about ditching the life you’ve lived and living the life you’ve always dreamt. Pondicherry makes it happen.

                                     Give Pondy a thought. Give time a break

My T-shirt had the writing,” It is bad manners to keep a vacation waiting”. But Pondy is not about mere vacationing. It is much more than that. It is about savouring the French flavour. It is about being conscious about cleanliness, like the morning tea seller at Promenade beach, who requests his customers to throw the tea cups only in the dustbins. It is about leading a disciplined life, be it at the traffic signals or be it with your choice of food. It is about the kindness and hospitality, like this stranger who patiently explained us in detail about the wholesale liquor shops and the streets where they are housed.

                         Stay away, English. We are in the land of the French

Pondy will forever be French and if I were to judge the French purely by their impact on Pondy, then I’d definitely rate them highly. A canal runs through the heart of the town. On one side lies the French Pondicherry. The neatly laid out perpendicular streets, the prevalent cycling culture on the tree-lined boulevards, French style buildings, nameplates and billboards bearing the names in French, the streets closer to the Promenade beach and laid back life of the inhabitants will give the impressions of a quieter coastal town in France. A plethora of cafes and restaurants serving French and Italian cuisine there will bowl us over. I’ve already started to ponder when I am going to gatecrash the Baker Street again. On the other side of the canal, lies the Tamil Pondicherry. It’s interesting to know how liberal people here were, to still retain portions of what the French left with them.

                      Don’t look further. The best breakfast in the town is here

My favorite Pondy moments were the times spent on the beach. The early morning sunrise from the rocky Promenade Beach was quite a sight in itself. The sun rose, like it does nowhere else, from the Bay of Bengal, creating magical colour patterns on the waters. The windy evening at the Paradise beach was thrilling. These virgin shores took us to another world, a world you’ve read in the fairy tales, a world of magic and tranquility, where you don’t care about burdens and commitments.

                Sunrise from the Promenade beach. What a way to start the day

But if there is one place, which was an eye opener for most of us, it is Auroville. The quaint village lies on the outskirts and is beautifully nestled in the bog. Auroville, where one comes to live the life that he/she had always dreamt of, attracts thousands from across the globe. The volunteers make every attempt to preserve nature. Organic farming is encouraged. The kitchen serves organic food cooked with solar energy. Plastics are banned. Cycling is appreciated. Local arts and crafts are supported. We can volunteer in farms, local schools and a string of nature conservation initiatives. In a way, this is the best place for self introspection and really think about what we want in life. There is no one to judge us and we are our own master. This trip is probably the best decision that we took. Pondicherry is not just a place, it is a state of mind.

                       This Ferrero-roscher shaped Matrimandir is pure magic

 

The land of Rajput dudes, Jaipur

As the Jaipur bound Air Costa from Bengaluru was about to touch down at the Sanganer International Airport, the first sights from the naked eye were exactly what we’ve read about the state of Rajasthan. Patches of dusty yellow dotted the entire place. The towering forts and its walls, that guarded the city reflected it. Desert sand dust gave them a translucent appearance. And there was a complete absence of green cover. 

          Reflecting dusty yellow, Amer fort stands tall, guarding the Pink City

The Airport looked small, doing sheer injustice to the ‘International Airport’ tag. The dome is even smaller than that of the MG Road Metro Station. It looked scarily empty, with very little shops open and owing to Diwali, there were very less number of taxis outside to take you to your destination. And the moment you stepped outside in the afternoon, the heat takes a toll on you, the aroma of ‘paan’ and mustard oil take center stage. The rickety buses dominate the pathways. Billboards and nameplates in Hindi take over.

Welcome to Jaipur.

                                                 Welcome to Jaipur

         According to the Rajasthani tradition, elephants symbolize Royalty

The Pink city of Jaipur is full of colours. History has it that the King had specifically ordered the city be painted in pink to welcome Queen Victoria. And it is incredible to see it, the entire city sporting pinkish orange. The walls of the palace and the buildings along the road leading to Hawa Mahal have been brushed in faded pink. Pink ribbons hang over the roads. Roadside shops are full of lip-smacking sweets and hot crunchy samosas, adding to the colour. And so are the bazaars with a beautiful collection of colourful bangles, art works, paintings, sarees and lehengas. 

Its Incredible to see the entire city in pink

Pinkish orange coloured buildings and interestingly designed share-autos

The view from the top of Hawa Mahal

Jaipur’s specialty is its rich history and its success in retaining it. The city palace showcases the grandeur of Rajput dudes. The paintings and designs have been worked out with forensic precision. The silver artifacts (‘Gangajali’) have its place in the Guiness Book of World Records. The Mahals are a triumph of impeccable architectural skills and are a true reflection of a fusion of Hindu Rajput and Islamic Mughal architecture. 

                                The Impressive courtyard of the City Palace

             Hawa Mahal: The fusion of Rajput and Mughal style architecture

 

 

                           Hawa Mahal: A triumph of architectural genius

Jaipur is easily one of India’s most popular cities from a tourist’s point of view and its proximity to the National Capital helps it hugely. There is every reason to love the Rajputs. For, it takes a huge effort to make a place surrounded by rocks and desert sands, a royal city. Their architectural style is so unique, every stone and marble work at the Mahals symbolize beauty and royalty. The blistering heat outside is unbearable but the rooms of the Palace and the Mahals will tell you a different story.

The city loves its colours and it is promoted in a big way by the Resurgent Rajasthan tourism initiative by the Rajasthan Government. Even the share- Autos are brushed in fancy colours. The Jaipur Metro has started its service and the Metro work near the ‘Jhora Rastha’ results in traffic jams. The other side of Jaipur houses the Legislative Assembly, an International cricket stadium, a World Trade center, towering apartments and some glitzy malls. But I’d still say, Jaipur is all about the Rajput dudes, their planning and execution. And wait, Jaipur doesn’t have a desert!!!!  

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Love Story

“I love you. To the moon and back” were the words of an innocent girl. Nah, she isn’t that innocent. She bullies her guy. She chides him when he pulls her legs. She cuts the phone call when he reminds her of her school reopening after a Sunday. She turns into a ‘Nagavalli’ when he makes her walk on a sunny afternoon in Bangalore. She gets worked up when he doesn’t take his pronunciations seriously. She argues. She fights. But all these fizzle out the moment she looks into his eyes. She erupts into laughter, often teary eyed, and the innocence returns. That’s her character. That’s what made him fall for her. That’s what made him come to a conclusion that she is his girl. 

When Priyanka Menon met Bhaskar NH at the Brigade Road in Bangalore on a pleasant Bangalore morning, she was thrilled. He was stuck in between reality and cinema. Filmy dialogues rushed through his mind. “Winds whisper a melody. Skies hum along. The moon nods”. And what not. He was nervous. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by trying Mohanlal’s cliched romantic dialogues. He just held her hand, looked into her eyes and smiled. She smiled back and he knew what the response was. They fell in love without even proposing. Within no time, she was making fun of his Irish Green tee and his black Puma flipflops. He looked like a school boy. She looked stunning in her magenta- black attire. He was nervous again. He remembered the dialogue from ‘Thattathin Marayathu’, “All the good looking girls in this world have awful looking boyfriends”. He wished he didn’t fall into that category. He backed himself and decided to proceed. They discussed a lot of things that day. About convincing parents, wedding, careers, dreams, books, traveling together, her idea of starting an art store and his plans to pen a book. Every moment seemed like a chapter of magic and blissful madness. Every moment triggered a swarm of butterflies within. 

She read a lot. Books and words lit her instantly. She loved the writer in him and has ever since desired that he authored a book some day. A desire he is yet to fulfill, though he hoped to break the shackles soon. 

She is creative and artistic, while he represented the other end of the spectrum. She had a craze for paintings, craft works, scrap books, photo frames and loved collecting things. Money had no role to play in her life. She treasured little joys of life like a bed coffee with a smile, ‘Rise and Shine’ message early in the morning, #100HappyDays challenge and living in the moment, something which she has unknowingly imparted to him. He loved the way she is. 

He is ‘an introvert to outspoken’ in progress. Travel bug bit him some years back and he was yet to recover from it. So, while she liked to stay put inside the closed comforts of home, he roamed around places, trying to unearth the tales of different people he met on the way. 

It is true that when a girl steps into a guy’s life, he becomes mature. He feels he is important. He feels that his life has a new meaning altogether. He feels that his voice is getting heard often. He starts ‘planning’ his life ahead. The journey becomes more thrilling, from ‘ME’ to ‘WE’. There is a shoulder to lean on. There is a soul to share your happiness and tears. There is a hand to hold on to. There is a hand to hold yours and say that everything will be okay. There is an eye that peeks into yours every time you stare at a hot girl in her party wear. And then, a hand to give a punch if the staring continues.

Their journey so far, has been like that. They didn’t ‘fall’ in love. They simply rode on it.They liked the way they are. They spoke the way their hearts could connect. They looked at things only their eyes could see. They fought over issues only they could fight. They were themselves. They had their egos as well. But their egos allowed them to understand each other better. 

Its been three years. Three beautiful years. Every moment they spent together has been picturesque. That day. Their first date. Their first selfie. The Coke spill at the McDonald’s. Serengeti. Early morning attendance at Au Bon Pain for French breakfast. Mexican lunch. Thattathin Marayathu dialogues. Bengaluru Darshan on Ashwin’s Suzuki Access. Hang outs with their crazy set of friends. Moments spent in the rain. Gossips. Shopping. The birthday cake. Fort Kochi. Scrap book. Tabbie. Cubbon Park. Engagement. And here they are, all set to tie the knot on November 8. 

 

                                                        The first selfie

                                                          Kitsch Mandi

                                                             Birthdays

                                                           Surrender!!

                                                           Together

                                                         Engaged

You were special, Virender Sehwag!

He last played for India in Hyderabad in 2013 and since then, you’re used to seeing an Indian team set out in the field, without him. You knew his chances of a comeback were slim. You knew his best days were in the past. You knew he was 37. You doubted if he could again produce those masterpieces. But there was some part in you, which wanted to see him with the willow again for India. You can understand that as Indians have always been emotional. But with Virender Sehwag, the reactions that poured in from fans and writers in England, Australia and even Pakistan, were remarkably similar. Jeez, he was loved all over the cricketing world. Wasn’t he!

He was special. In fact, very special. He defied all the cricketing laws, even made a mockery of the conventional approach to batsmanship and yet, the purists adored him. They clapped in elation, every time he slashed it through the gully. They were in the edge of their seats when he hit those naughty, tempting sixes through the third man on the opening day of a Test match. They stood in awe every time he played those insane knocks. They were his fans, among many others, cut across the borders and generations. 

Rahul Dravid, the bible for batting in test matches, was his fan. So was Sachin Tendulkar, Sehwag’s idol. So was the reckless T20 generation slogger, Glenn Maxwell. So were VVS Laxman, Sourav Ganguly, Adam Gilchrist, Kevin Pieterson, Mahela Jayawardene, David Warner and the list goes on. Everyone prayed for a Sehwag special when they sat in front of the TV. He was a swashbuckler. An entertainer. A swagger. A pied piper. A Rajinikanth block bluster. 

I have often wondered how he managed to garner these many fans. His numbers spoke for themselves, like with any great player. But it was all about the manner in which he scored his runs. He had a song on his lips as he pounded the cricket balls. He whistled. He smiled while destroying the bowling attacks and records were broken as an after-thought. After Alastair Cook’s laborious knock of 263 off 528 balls recently, I imagined what all could Sehwag have done in that time- completed two triple centuries while humming 528 lines of Kishore Kumar’s songs and pulling up 263 conversations with the umpires. That defined him. Those chatters with the umpires from the non-striker’s end, no matter if he struggled with the swing or was hitting the sweet spots. Nothing bogged him down. Not even Shane Warne’s zooters when he scored a top class 155 in Chennai. Not even the bouncers that hit his helmet in MCG when he powered his way to 195. Not even the raw pace of Shoaib Akhtar and Brett Lee. Not even the then scary Mendis Mystery. That he was a genius, made him overcome all these. But that isn’t the complete picture. His carefree approach made us pause and think if we could all be like Sehwag, and make our lives insanely simpler.

Eventually, the numbers too happened. 8000+ runs in both the formats at a jaw-dropping strike rate of 82 in tests and 104 in ODIs. Those big daddy triples came the way. Staggering doubles made its way, including the Indore Incendiary (219). Records tumbled. Bloemfontein happened. Nottingham and Melbourne followed. Lahore was conquered. So too was Galle. So too were Mumbai, Kolkata and Chennai. And in between he tore apart Pakistan, made billions of Indians watch the 2003 World cup final despite losing Sachin early, took a fifer at Delhi, trolled Michael Clarke, registered a king pair, inspired David Warner to become a Test opener and made press conferences worth listening to.

So, which is my favorite Sehwag innings? There are three of them in no particular order. The 195 at MCG and 201 at Galle were impressions that there was a method to his madness. It wasn’t just about taking the leather of the ball. He took his time, survived the snorters early on and then dominated the Aussies in Melbourne. At Galle, it was a similar approach where he planned his innings beautifully before conquering all sorts of spin at the minefield of a wicket. The third is probably, the most audacious knock ever played- his 83 off 68 in Chennai while chasing 387 on the 4th innings. He expanded our imaginations. The world gasped in awe. So were England.  It was freakish. It was unheard of before, in 150 years of Test cricket. India eventually chased the target down in two days but the match was won in an hour and a half of sheer madness. 

I choke, as I write this post. It’s not easy to see one of your favorites bidding adieu. Words are difficult to come by. There are emotions all over. There is sadness everywhere. It’s a lump in the throat moment. His cricketing journey has been a personal favorite along with Rahul Dravid’s and AB De Villiers’. I don’t think any other cricketer brought me so much joy. I don’t think any other cricketer forced me to the edge of my seats every frigging time. I don’t think any other cricketer played cricket, the Sehwag way. He is special. He is a legend. He is God. Thank you for enriching our lives, Virender Sehwag!!

                                         #ThankYouSehwag

Zak, the warrior

In a batsmen obsessed nation like ours, it is not often that you see a bowler sharing the limelight. Time and again, we’ve seen our spinners foxing the opponents in minefields by magically rolling their wrists and fingers. Our wickets literally take the fast bowlers away from the equation. It is for this precise reason that Zaheer Khan will hold a special place in the annals of Indian cricket. His heroes, the legendary Kapil Dev and the incredible Javagal Srinath were special and India celebrated them. And Zaheer with his performances, emulated them.

I remember his early days in 2000 clearly. It was a new phase in Indian cricket when the youngsters were being heard and encouraged. One of them started shooting those toe crushers in Nairobi. Every one of those had a message “Zak has arrived” written on it. They were special and Indian cricket fan woke up. The young man from Shrirampur who never bowled in a turf till 17 was suddenly one of the most feared fast bowlers in the world. In between, he massacred Henry Olonga with the willow in an over. He was part of the pace attack that took India to the WC final in 2003 and Zak’s best came in the super six against a formidable Kiwi lineup. Then came the fifer at Gabba, partnership with Sreesanth in that famous win at Johannesburg and a string of useful spells all over the world.

As is the story with every Indian pacer, injuries derailed his progress. Fitness kept him out of crucial encounters. There were questions on his form. His pace dipped and he was no way near his best. That’s when he did something smart. He signed up for Worcestershire in the English county cricket to hone his skills further and when he came back, he became a ‘smarter’ fast bowler. There was more variety in his armory. He mastered the knuckle bowl, learnt the trade of controlling his swing and started hitting the sweet spots in the pitch. Zak, the promising youngster was ready to spearhead the Indian bowling attack.

Second part of his international career began when he blew England away in Nottingham in 2007. Left handers became his bunnies. He started to look lethal in the sub continent when he reversed the old ball. And all those were reflecting in the bowling figures. He complemented the spinners wonderfully when we swept opponents at home and was an inseparable entity in the test team that reached the pinnacle in 2010. And then came the 2011 world cup. Zak was at his best. In a tournament dominated by Sachin Tendulkar and Yuvraj Singh, Zak was in a league of his own. He opened the bowling, bowled in middle overs and was India’s go to man at the death. I have fond memories of his knuckle balls to dismiss Paul Collingwood in early stages and Mike Hussey in the QF. What a peach that was! And what a world cup he had. Sadly, fitness and form kept him in and out since then and he was no where near where he was in his prime.

Thank you Zaheer for enriching this beautiful game. You can be extremely proud of what you’ve done. We’ll miss you Zak. The hairstyles. The high jump. Yorker. Knuckle ball. Wickets. And this.

                               Thank you Zak

 

Little joys of life

I love simple pleasures of life. Like how one fine morning a friend called me and said,”Dude, I am in Bangalore today. Shall we meet up over coffee?”. Or like how I wake up to Priyanka’s call every morning. Or like staring at my engagement album every now and then and silently giggling. These things make my day. I wake up to realize some of the little joys of life these days. I had decided to work from home for four weeks. It was like taking a sabbatical and cherishing every moment of it, in the presence of Appa and Amma. Its been three years since I ditched the comforts of my home to join the mad race to make money. And since then, I’ve often thought if life could also have rewind buttons. Appa waking me up before he sets off to the office, Amma serving those hot tumblers of filter coffees as I lie down at the couch like a prince in front of the TV, accompanying annoying Amma in the kitchen (munching carrots, onions and cucumbers as she prepares the lunch), joining her in those mother-in-law daughter-in-law soaps that has been a part of every Indian household since its inception, discussing the neighborhood as well as Television gossips, the sound of the land phone ringing and how lazily sticking my ass to the couch, ordering Amma to attend it, Appa’s lunch and his customary post-meal nap before he heads back to the office again, settling down to watch the Matinee in Asianet, Surya or Kiran TV, the aroma of lip-smacking home made evening snacks, opening the door to welcome Appa and secretly wishing there would be something in his bag, evening baths, the priceless family conversations the three of us have on varying topics, from politics to relatives, the occasional (and frequent also) visits by a family friend or a neighbour, dinner, reality shows on Television and then settling down with my laptop till late night. Its not that I’ve never come home in these three years. I make my way out here twice in a month, for a weekend or at the maximum, four days. Nothing more than that. That’s why I love this period. Memories of my semester vacations and summer holidays flash by. As I said, little joys of life.

Confirmed: ‘Ban’ana Republic only

It was with so much hope that Indians voted the BJP led alliance to power in 2014. Our tainted image of being one of the most corrupt countries in the world had to be changed. Our march towards realizing Dr. Kalam’s 2020 dream looked stalled. And we thought the BJP led NDA would come to our rescue and take the nation forward. So, are we on the right track? Have we strolled forward? Have our citizens been served properly? Have we set the right launch pads for our youths to take off? Has every citizen in the country started to think if there is freedom to choose his/her careers, choose what he/she can wear, do what he/she likes without being forced?

Political scientists and journalists have debated, discussed in volumes and will continue to judge the performance of the Govt. And so I don’t want to reproduce it all through this blog post. I would like to voice my opinion on our freedom. After all, right to freedom is our constitutional right. And how can we think of our careers, development and better way of life when our basic freedom is curbed?

It started with the Beef Ban in Maharashtra. How can someone control my food habits? How can someone tell me what to eat and what not to eat? Then came the books, movies and some stand-up comedy shows. Those lines, stories and words which could possibly hurt the sentiments of people and communities has to be censored but politicizing the matter is ridiculous. The third victim was the elixir of a bachelor’s life- Maggi. Why is it that only 2-3 brands were banned and others continued despite the truth that all of them taste similar. What were the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) doing all these years? Were they sleeping? Almost every frigging kid in this country grew up munching the 2-minute delicacy. If his body had gotten used to accepting the alleged high levels of lead, then I’m sure it wouldn’t make any difference going further, had he continued to consume.

The most recent one in the list is the blocking of porn sites. Seriously? No one, not even a single soul which voted the BJP to power would’ve thought that their bedrooms weren’t far away from being regulated by the Govt. Our privacy which we’ve held as an inalienable right, has gone for a toss. It is such an irony that this is the land of Kamasutra and the erotic sculptures dotting the walls of its temples (Khajuraho). Banning porn is not a solution to sexual violence. Create awareness and teach your men to respect women. Dish out capital punishment to the rapists. Sentence the molesters, abusers and gropers. Do not manage someone fantasizing in his/her rooms. That is uncalled for. Of course, some of us (engineers) will have a solution to this, with the proxy servers, VPN connections and Whatsapp sharing, but the question is looming large. Are these the signs of things to come? One day you ban the porn and the next day, you might ban or target the couples walking together. You might even ban Chowmein, jeans, co-ed schools, colleges and eventually lead us to the path of Talibanization. If we do not raise our voice now, the possibility of such a draconian rule is not far away.

No acchedin and now no accheraat also.

— Arnab Ray (@greatbong) August 3, 2015

Oh the irony, It's gonna be the 69th Independence Day & we are banning porn!

— A La Vile De Satara (@AdvancedMaushi) August 3, 2015

The government banned porn for reducing sexual violence. What will they ban for reducing robbery? Themselves?

— Comedian Praveen (@Comedy_Praveen) August 3, 2015

Eni enthina unlimited download. Heck, eni enthina broadband?

— Stay at Home Al-Avalathić (@vanwynkle) August 3, 2015

https://twitter.com/BhaskarNh/status/628162072052785152

https://twitter.com/BhaskarNh/status/628148722153578496

https://twitter.com/BhaskarNh/status/628147622721687552