Dedicated to memory of SANTOSH TROPHY and all the temples that serve "NARIYAL PRASAD"



When u slog 16 hrs in office on a regular day , n 4 one day u excuse urself from the office saying that ur mom needs to be picked up 4m d airport,as she is back from her "trip" , n dat 2 when the boss has one of the internet explorer tabs reading "CRICINFO.com" ,

it proves 2 points :

U really have the "balls"

and

u justify the multi million dollar contracts, companies pay to sign on the cricketers.

Well yesterday was just another day to pay rich dividends to companies who have bet billions of shareholder's money on this RELIGION of our country.

Whatever was the result , the little maestro`s knock took me back to good old 90`s ,

when U were not d only one risking kidney stones ,by not going to the toilet ,while he was on the crease.



While on the way back to future, I stumbled upon a little..titsy...bitsy cricketing glory of my own as well.

It was the autumn of my second year at college, stage was set for the first time ever, inter departmental cricket tournament.

Our team "the platoon of young mechies" with "fire in their bellies" were the "minnows".

Inspired by Kenya in '96 and '02 and Korea in the '02 football world cup and helped with some luck from GOD,our grit and talent steered us through all the rounds and we finally ended up at the finals against the most formidable line up (CS guys).



All through out this ordeal she, sometimes accompanied by her girlfriends, used to be seated on the bench along the ground.

This by the way had already costed some of the teams a couple of catches , few misfield

and also some batsmen their wickets as they played across the line to hit the ball in her direction.

As far as I was concerned my "bollywood bashing" had finally come down to haunt me ;),

forget hitting the bull's eye from a mile and cause a much needed breakthrough,

forget breaking the stumps every time i got the cherry in my hand,

forget the last ball six.

but still being disciplined in and around off stump line and the power hitting when it was needed the most earned

Me, Bhaskar and two others from our batch the place in the 11 for the finals.


The evening before the finals , me and bhaskar while walking back from the ground sat down to grab a bite.

He was the 3rd guy I met when I entred the hostel, was one of those who enjoyed the scene while i was being ragged by our own batch mate,

me n him along with 1 other guy were founding members of "OOBP-Outside ORISSA BANDO PILAS" group,

jointly participated in college functions,organised events,bunked classes, smoked pot,drank bhang on holi

We were the left n right flank of not just our year's basketball and football teams but also of the numerous vivas that we had during engg.
(VIVAS were always in groups of two,whenever he did'nt have answer I sneezed and vice-versa)

just to summarize it , we knew no one in 2000kms radius of our college and we never missed home.


As we discussed our "strategies" she called and asked where I was.

within 15 minutes I found myself outside a temple and she hurriedly wearing her sandles as it was almost her hostel "in time".

I could never comprehend wat diffrence a prayer could ever make to one`s fortunes,

cuz if that was so, INDIA should have replaced any of the G7 countries by now, atleast in terms of per capita income.

but then every man has to make some exceptions,and in my case all of them were linked to her.

I ate the "nariyal prasad" hoping it would have the same effect as the magic tonic had on ASTERIX.



The day arrived and we were there and adding to my nervousness, there she was along with all of the girl`s hostel.

The opposition had a solid opening pair,who were actually the college opening pair of that year.

Our opening bowlers did their best and kept them quite for opening spell .

But as soon as they got used to the ball and had their eyes set, they teared through our bowling attack.

The first change bowlers were greeted with huge hits outside the fence.

Just when the bowlers started to count how many bowls were left for them to bowl in an over , the pair tried to take on my "not so flexed arm" on deep mid wicket.

The call was for two and as I grabbed and threw the ball in at the keepr`s end ,the one bail hit our keeper`s forehead and the direct hit had got both of them stranded in middle of the pitch.

Match was on and as has been the jinx of any well settled pairs, it was not long before we saw the back of other player too.


The cherry was in my hand now and it was the slog overs, the batsmen was a well built all rounder of their team, more of a pinch hitter.

As the line n length plus variations of pace frustrated him through the first four bowls of the over, he came down and gave me some heavy duty oriya stuff.

I bowled him another slower one but this time he connected and sent the cherry for the air hostess.

Next one was a nasty bouncer which had the back of his ear bleeding. I checked on him as he cried "MU MORIBU NI TO???"-----"I wouldn't die , would I?"

:))) :))))))))


We were cursing in our Innings , but as the target got closer,in typical style of "MEN in BLUE" our nerves went haywire.

and it all boiled down to me and one of our seniors (KALLOL BHAIYA) in the penultimate over with BHASKAR as the last man waiting on the sidelines.

While Bhaskar was tying my pads , the sheepish look in his eyes told me all that i needed to know as to how crucial my n Kallol bhai`s pair is gonna be.

As God had all my life done in such situations ,thrown adversity head on, the same pinch hitter was gona bowl the penultimate over.

Two bouncers , a beamer and a warning later I was praying to GOD for no "milawat" in the hard plastic that made my "L guard",

cuz this guy looked hell bent on wiping off "my DNA" ,off the face of this planet.


Anyway the third and fourth ball were solidly defended, I gained some confidence. As I eyed her sitting on the bench,

I noticed that none of her friends were around n dat it was well past her hostel "IN Time".

He came with a longer run up this time and slowed down as he approached wicket.....

There are moments in ur life when there is TIME LAG between ur mind coming to terms with ur own actions.

The ball sailed over the deep midwicket boundary and landed just short of where she sat,

she screamed,clapping her hands in joy and ran toards her hostel terrace.

Next ball was nudged away for a single and the overthrow took us home.


As I recall that evening I remember the fattest senior from our Branch running towards me ,

with a momentum which would make the "SOVIET MAKE T-72 tank" look for cover .

THAT WAS MY CLOSEST BRUSH WITH GLORY.



Two years down, d same ground, same tournament, little changes in teams though ,

ON field team - a bunch of talented juniors had replaced the seniors.
OFF field team - she was with BHASKAR now......who btw was not even an acquaintance nw......so much for OOBP brotherhood :)))


It was d quarter-final, last over ,the opponents needed 10 runs from last over and BHASKAR had the cherry in his hand .

All through the match I was looking at the bench but it was now that she had honoured us with her presence, in the last over.

Just when I thought it could not get more ironical than this.......the fate of last match was decided in last two balls,

here it was decided in the first two balls.....a four and a six. Thats it......we were out of the tournament.

As she tried to hide herself behind the umbrella and walk back 2 d canteen....I walked in d same direction to grab a bite....

Thats was when BHASKAR called out her name......she turned and I noticed dat she had the "nariyal prasad" in her hand.

"WAS I EARLY or is SHE LATE?"

is d question that haunts me to this date? 

Dedicated to everyone even remotely effected by the once gladly not existent and now shamelessly booming industry of

   "MEN's Fairness CREAMS".


Following the footsteps of a great thinker,philosopher,politician and economist (CHANAKYA)

 who used to put curd in the roots of a tree, if he wanted to uproot it , lets analyse this "fascination of Indian society with fairness".

As much as I admire the British for the unifying this country and guiding us to a way towards industrialisation and urban prosperity,

although driven by their own self interests, they seem to have had a deep psychophysical impact on the Indian brain.


Wether its driven by the gold old "demand and supply rule" or GOD knows what, the fewer number of white skinned women made

them the ultimate "OBJECTS of desire", for the then severely pushed into a corner "Indian male".


She may have seemed to him as the passport to blissful nirvana from the daily and routinely chores as the servants of the British.


As alert as the "NATO radar systems in Eastern europe", the Indian female was quick to detect and latch on to this "attention seeking mantra" which would help her to "imperialise" the "mind body and soul" of the  already impoverished pre-independent INDIAN male.


The Britishers left ,but as in many cases left their legacy and the good old "haldi chandan ke gun isme samaye" turmeric and ayurvedic

cream were makers were airing 3o-45 sec slots during prime time MAHABHART , RAMAYAN, Rangoli, chitrahar and God knows what in pre-liberalised, pre- Manmohan,

License RaJ, soviet inclined, non Aligned days.


1991-92

Enter MS and PC (not Microsoft and Personal computer) , the Indian market was opened to the world. Sniffing the opportunity of a billion people in making ,

 a juggernaut middle class , rising disposable incomes......(ignoring the declining sex ratio) , the cosmetic empires of the west  came and set up shops for everything that a woman  though could be used to get Men`s RADAR detecting them(how desperately passive in action!!!)


Anyway business was good...revenues were ballooning along with margins, and there was no body more glad for our brown skin other than the ones

 who themselves brave skin cancer and other harmful effects of sun`s radiation just to get "TANNED".


but as spring never lasts for  forever .....saturation of market demand and increasing competition from "haldi chandan ke gun isme samye" ,stagnation arrived.

In an attempt to revitalise their dream of a "FAIRER AND LOVELIER" nation they targeted the only on left.


The not so concious about his  "public urination, a genetically passed on hairstyle ,bulging tummy and world renowed dating and dancing skills"


                                                                     "THE GREAT INDIAN MALE"


Thanks to the intense marketing campaigns , the metro sexuality fever has now engulfed a whole generation of demographically young nation.

I had always heard of marketing as "an art of selling something that you dont need". But this was outrageous.


A guy vying for female attention through the colour of his skin , WHY>>>>HOW>>>>>WHO?????



What ever happened to action on cricket, football fields, swimming laps ,basketball layups

chasing the girls upto a point when they miss the chasing upon,

asking her out and when she lands up with her girlfriend , starving her off the attention with all eyes on her friend.

the long drives , the quite dinners and finally the key to her houses rear entrance ,

from where you could sneak past the scaring brigadier`s dog and


finally snuggle in the irritatingly pink room, pink bedsheets,hell even slippers,


but refreshing fragrance of her hair and lie there as if even if the world came to end now "WHO cares ? I wld die as a MAN!!!"



This insanely passive approach has been the crown jewel of all womankind from the time the first sexually reproduced cells were evolved.


Lets not get into their SHOES (which ironically holds pole position in their nervous systems) guys


For once let sanity prevail and put end this gender role reversal ,


Nobody wants their sons to be chased ,teased , cheated upon  taken advantage off and then forgotten.

cheers !!



  

Rajdhani

Dedicated to the BBSR-NEW DELHI RAJDHANI ,

Sitting in the office bus as I tried to glance at the chick who had just made a rather boring and routinely sleepy journey to office , an eventful one,

I found myself staring at the front page of a popular daily "Maoists take RAJDHANI under siege" , and as I my pulses raced......

the next line made it clear which route the train took.........  (1)




The same night over the dessert as my Mom traditionally open the topic of our "RELATIVES"

The nth cousin of mine was now in the pre-nuptial discussions with his beloved and her family,

imitating Maradona`s tackling and dodging skills of 86 world cup,

I was skilfully manoeuvring her open ended questions and traps , with the total recitation of my mom and aunt`s conversation

"haaan fir.....aur kya  ...fir kya hua?" repeatedly as if the good old tape player era was back.....

to which my mom had the same hit on the head response.....

only that this time it was more vocal than physical.....


"LADKA hua Vishy".....(2)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was after the day the 1st sem exams had gotten over......I was running towards the hostel under peak summer sun to get my stuff ,

It was already 11am , RAJDHANI left in another half n hour.....I got my luggage and dashed for the hostel gate.....



where she was waiting,suddenly overwhelmed with a  sinking feeling I tried to act practically and as we got in the car.....

she put on the LAGAN song  "RADHA kaise na jale" and those big misty eyes with a pinch of mischief in them looked straight at me ,

restarting the  "sinking pump".

We reached the station and  the whole "GANG" with some "rival GANG" members were waiting, the train was on the platform,

A dozen hugs, couple of books later we had boarded the train on our maiden trip together.


As the INDIAN engineered engine started to warm up...we settled down and before we realised the next station was there,

One of the "RIVAL GANG" members called her up and said he was on his way to bid adieu to her one last time, and she ran outside to see him...

The RIVAL GANGSTER had raced the RAJDHANI all the way to the next staion to say "GOODBYE" to MY princess.

I found that argument as convincing and rational as Pakistan accusing India of funding Taliban.

And as I had the first hand experience of "the boiling Punjabi blood in my veins" , she came in looking all confused as the train had started again.

The volcano did burst, and for the first and last time she took it like the FRENCH took GERMANS in WW2, "lying down".


By the time afternoon lunch had come, just like in so many pubs,we too were back to our happy hours.

I just did not want to face the fact that after 48 hours I might not see her for years to come.

While we napped besides each other, I felt as if I was indeed experiencing Einstein`s Space-time travel. If only he had experienced this feeling

commonly known as love, he would not have wasted 10 years working on his theory of relativity.



Dusk came by and as the sun set on the scenic GAYA(BIHAR AVADH)landscape , on the compartment door with my arms around her waist, we just saw the

sky slipping into its evening gown. For once no law of physics mattered and as she turned around  the mischievous look was back in her eyes,

we melted into each other`s arms  and just like in all crappy hindi movies, the sound of someone approaching brought us back from SWISS ALPS.



The whole evening we spent playing her favourite games at which I sucked intentionally and for the first time realised that

the smile on some one`s face could actually arouse more goosebumps than a last ball six or fastest lap on the pool.

The thought of her going away was tearing me apart and before I could get hold of myself , I felt my shirt was moist.

All this time as she lay on my chest, the same thought had brought her GANGA JAMUNA down.



I brought her back to her cheerful state by loosing at a couple of more games that she had made up while she was a kid.

The night was spent checking on the fact weather the old couple on the opposite berth had finally dozed off or not.

It somehow reminded me  of basketball , u had the times where you played passionately and then there were time off,

The only difference was that this time, the time off were involuntary and were to confirm that there were no spectators.






We hit Delhi the next morning and  she dragged me to every street which sold any of the following items.

Clothes,shoes,bags,more clothes,earthen pots,some more types of dress materials, mehendiwala,some decorative stuff and finally did i mention clothes?

The range of bargain was the shopkeeper quoting Rs 400 and she Rs 80.....and as I tried to hide myself....

to my disbelief she would send me to talk to the shopkeeper once he had  refused to bow down to her price....and pay him wat he had asked for.



My middleman tactics earned me a a lot of brownie points ,which I cashed in at a  restaurant which seemd to have been abandoned by both its customers and staff during lunch.

Finally we left for the airport and at the departures , as I was overwhelmed by  the percentage of men with turbans and women in patiala suits ,

she found a luggage trolley and I made  her promise of  not making a fool of herself by missing her flight deliberately,

as suggested in the climax of  many Bollywood films that we had grew up on.

We hugged for one last time and the moist feeling on the chest resurfaced.

I looked into her big misty,not so mischievous, by know overflowing eyes and asked "KYA HUA?"

to which she hugged me again and whispered in my ears  "LADKA HUA Vishy!".

Adolescence

 This is a piece dedicated to all the women who have come and gone, and in the process enriched my life with their presence at different stages of my short yet very eventful life.

I thank them all for  enlightening me , for if it was not for them, I would never have realized what an asset I have been and can be for all the future women  hoping to meet “ the special some one” in their lives.

Well the story or rather the “experience” starts at very young age, and for once          

“The early mover’s advantage theory takes a severe beating”.

We were in school, in the wee hours of adolescence as I like to call it ,

she seemed to be everything I ever wanted…..pretty, pretty and  pretty …

We lived near by,

Our parents worked for the same company,

We played on the same streets in the evenings, with the ball being thrown in the same

Direction again n again, my fielding position remaining the same, every boundary,

Catch or a wicket, for that matter, was supposed to be an occasion to be cheered upon by a run around with my hands like a glider which was later copyrighted by a Pakistani fast bowler.

Well we started talking , by sharing notes , actually she loaning them to me, which gradually became more of a practice, I was more than glad that I was repaying her by pumping air in her cycle tires(after all I was the man of whatever I  assumed we were in.)

Those days would just zip past by me, as if Einstein and his theory of relativity had gone for a toss,

Time would pass so fast in the class with her, even faster in the evenings

And then in the night, when she was not there, as if the time was taking a nap somewhere and making up for the sprint it had run in the day, it would crawl at a “snail living in an old age home” speed.

Time was actually running at different speeds. LOVE had defeated PHYSICS.

During all those evening strolls, regular loaning of Sanskrit notes, raised eyebrow look

of her dad, giggles of her sister our intimacy levels were mushrooming  on a steady pace.

That year during our annual day, being the vice president of my house (of which she was also a secretary),

I was given the charge of maintaining discipline (an honor never before or  after bestowed upon me),

As I was taking care of my only opportunity of being an administrator, I landed up in front of the girl’s dressing room. Before I realized that was the only place outside my jurisdiction, the door opened and

A face just came out with the whole body inside , reminding me of the numerous times I hung out my head asking for a towel after taking the bath , only this was so different , asking me to mind my own business and then giggle lasting even after the door was shut on my face.

Till the time my judgment day came to an end, all I could think of was that face. It was like my mind had been high jacked by that thought.

In the evening as I met her, she noticed the change, and as I started to describe my brush against d angelic face, by the time I looked back in her eyes, they had already welled up. .

And it was then that I realized that, THAT WAS HER.

As experienced and skilled as my previous role of the day (administrator), I was in a tight spot.

I tried to console her, without even knowing what triggered the ganga –jamuna out of her.

We went back to her room and I looked into her eyes, trying to look for the reason ,but to my  amazement   I met with the same inquisitiveness in her eyes , as if I had done something , said something  , or was supposed to say something or do something.

Grilled, I came up with the best I could “What Happened down there?”, are u alright?

N after a long sigh she let out a word which I would fear till this day, if it was uttered by 

a lady : “NOTHING”.

Nothing remained the same except for her sister’s giggling; her father’s strange look, and subsequently my parents were posted out from there.

Strangely the place where I stayed was going to be let out to a classmate of mine whose parents were just posted in.

After a year I went back to see her, eager as the very first time, but something had changed, while we were talking she was constantly looking at the place where I stayed  and  as a middle aged man came out of my erstwhile house , she said she had to go some where and I was left with her “not so giggly elder sister”.

After talking to her I realized the former classmate of mine, had not only taken up my place in the sector’s cricket team, my rank in class,  my position in school house but more importantly her sister’s giggles and her father’s strange eyebrow looks.

Last I heard of them through the few disadvantages of beloved face book is that, both were settled somewhere in Australia, a country I would not visit even if global warming immersed the whole of world except for that corner.

End of chapter 1.