My name is Woods and I am not a sinner

After Tiger Woods' apology on national television late Friday night, the media is abuzz with reports of how the FBI and the US Government seem to have come up with a new plan of action to nab Osama Bin Laden - the 9/11 mastermind still at large. The mission to be led by Woods himself has been codenamed 'Operation Hole in One' on insistence from the Tiger on the basis of all the success he has had on and off the golf course with the aforementioned mission in mind.

Operation Hole in One, which would not have any military involvement, is said to be the brainchild of George.W. Bush -the previous president of the United States of America. Bush, it is rumoured, seems to have been inspired by the Bollywood flick My Name is Khan, running to packed audiences in the US. Mr. Bush-with a penchant for out-of-the-box thinking as was evidenced during his tenure when he decided to attack Iraq to wipe out terrorists in Afghanistan- is said to have been touched and deeply influenced by the ability of the human mind to transcend all barriers in the face of love as portrayed in the movie . This particular scheme seems to have struck Mr. Bush in the middle of a scene when the lead protagonist of the movie finally seeks out the President of the USA as demanded by his wife and screams out, "My name is Khan and I am not a terrorist" . Conspiracy theories however suggest that Bush has not been one bit enamoured by the decision to award the Nobel Peace Prize to his successor and wants to have a shot at himself and hence this ploy.

The FBI, it is believed, has already colluded with Elin Nordegren, Woods' wife after approval from Barack Obama, who it is suggested, sees this as a great opportunity to cut down on military spends and thus enhance spendings on bonuses of Wall Street executives who are still struggling to get back to their feet in the aftermath of the recession. The pact would have Elin accepting Tiger back into the house only after seeking out Bin Laden and conveying the message, "My name is Woods and I am not a sinner" which would help the US track down Bin Laden at the same time.

It is also rumoured that Tiger was reaching out to the global community when he said, "I have a problem and I need help" as part of his telecast 'apology'. The FBI is also supposed to be working behind the scenes on this and is in the process of building up a grand coalition. The U.K Government is said to be working hard on the wives of John Terry, the England football captain and Ashley Cole, the Chelsea left-back in their efforts to launch another parallel operation code-named 'Operation Ball on Goal'. Bill Clinton has also thrown all his weight behind Tiger Woods and has promised to help him out given his experience in international diplomacy and sexual escapades. Back home, the Ministry of External affairs has solicited the help of disgruntled politician Amar Singh (now without a party) and disgraced Andhra Governor N.D. Tiwari given their proven track record. The Shiv Sena/MNS combine is apparently regretting the protest that they had launched at the launch of the movie as it has boomeranged badly on them in the absence of a Marathi Manoos in the Indian contingent.

Sponsors who had ditched Tiger in the aftermath of all the controversies are said to be keen to get the Tiger back on board and are willing to offer revised deals to help Tiger support this noble cause. The Al-Qaeda is said to be in a state of panic over the Tiger's video-taped recording, something which had been their trademark till now. Bin Laden, reports Al-Jazeera has also posted a series of advertisements in various Matrimonial columns under various monikers to keep ahead of the Tiger in the numbers game. However, there is little doubt about the fact that the Tiger on the prowl has managed to unnerve the Al-Qaeda more than the army action by the US over all these years.

In hope does this community live

22:00 hrs, Saturday, 13th February - Depressed as I am, I decide to head to my friend's place (a male) to get over it. Both of us are very excited about the upcoming day though neither of us have an idea as to the reason why.

00:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - Frantic calls are made to the community of all "single and ready to mingle" friends wishing them luck and happiness on Valentine's Day. The irony of prefixing a happy to all disgruntled and lovelorn individuals is not lost on me when all that is likely to happen during the course of the day is a series of "where are you taking her" questions over gtalk, the her referring to an individual who could have been referenced sometime during a drinking session or a one-time infatuation. It also strikes me that Valentine's Day has become more of an occasion for the community of 'singletons' (pun unintended) as it always feels embarrassing to wish somebody who is going around with another somebody. Probably, they do keep the Valentine's flag aloft amongst the community of "committed" individuals. Fingers crossed and touching wood, I go to sleep.

09:30 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - I wake up and grab my phone in anticipation of some SMS from some old flame. I see two missed calls and one SMS from home. Cursing my luck, I head back to sleep again.

10:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - I wake up and open up my Google account much to my friend's dismay. By all accounts, he seems to have planned for a long morning in front of his laptop wishing all his female friends but since I am his guest, he has little option but to grin and bear. He starts watching Mohabattein as a mark of protest.

11:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - I am well into my chatting session as I partake in the sorrow of most of my friends. I get depressed again and get a customary ticking-off from a friend whom I am convinced must have been a statue in a previous avatar. Of course, Valentine's Day gets discussed in great detail

12:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - I am dragged by my friend to an up-market departmental store for he wants to get some gift. I am not supposed to ask about the intended recipient and I chug along. As is often the case, we spend a good hour without able to finalise on anything. I spend most of the time near the sports accessories section and proudly claim to another friend over phone about how I was helping somebody get a gift for a "special one". I get a strong "usko aur koi nahi mila kya gift dhoondne mein help karne ke liye" retort. I disconnect the call immediately. Seeing me drooling over a football, my friend offers to gift it to me. I am forced to refuse as accepting a gift on this day would be seen as acceptance of defeat in the pursuit of that special one especially with the better half of the day remaining. We give up on gifts and ogle at a giant body-builder as we move out

15:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February -So, as much of the day gets spent discussing and debating the best way to go about spending time on Valentine's day, the best we manage to come up with is My Name is Khan. Opinions are sought, reviews read and bargain prices searched for. The problem with SRK and AK movies is that you invariably end up getting completely divergent viewpoints. This one is no different. "If you want to retain your faith in Bollywood, stay away from this one" , says one whereas another is all praise for SRK's performance. We decide to watch the movie all the same as some more frustrated individuals join us.

16:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - The one thing I don't want to happen with me on this day is getting beaten up. Having read about all the Sena disruptions, I decide to play patriot as I put on my Team India jersey just in case some Sainik happens to create a ruffle. What that Sainik is unlikely to have noticed are my sunglasses neatly tucked in my T-shirt and all the fairness cream smeared on my face. Human beings are indeed an optimistic lot!

19:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - The movie ends. We have a quarrel as to which was the more tolerable half. Opinion is divided right down the middle but there is consensus over the fact that the Sena might have been doing a noble deed for once.

21:00 hrs, Sunday, 14th February - I sit down to write this post. And just to add credence to the fact that some individuals never seem to lose hope, here is what my friend just pinged me:

Friend: dude..

what the hell are u doing at home

its valentines day man

get a move

21:50 me: lol

writing a post on all of this

Friend: on what?

bloody u.

21:51 wasting ur time on valentines

call ur girl and go out man

dont be such a bore

Is this Bengal's moment of awakening?

The brick apartment with a red-grill facade near Lake Gardens would have been in mourning; the 'mishti dahi' counter would have shut shop; the tanawaala by the milk booth would have refused his services, and the hijdas by the Central Park would have ignored their social ostracization. As someone who had grown up in a political milieu which revolved only around Jyoti Basu, I couldn't but help feel a tinge of regret in the passing away of the Communist stalwart.

For a family with a vocal Centrist ideology - which in recent times has shifted to being moderately right of centre - my grandfather had been an exception. Bengal society was probably to blame for it. In the late 80s and the early part of the 90s when I had a smattering of Bengali words in my arsenal, you were either a Communist or didn't possess even a passing interest in politics. The best part of my childhood was spent in a household which belonged to the former category- a household which I have come to understand since was frequented by the likes of Somnathda.

In many ways, the Communists have come to represent all that is good and bad about the Indian polity. For all the hoopla about coalition formations when Morarji Desai managed to cobble together an anti-Congress formation, "marriages of convenience" became a reality once that "farmer from Hasan" assumed the highest mantle thanks in no small measure to the Communists. Basu might have called it a historic blunder but in actuality, it is probably the only reason why the Communists still have a standing in Indian politics. So, while they have evolved to help in putting together the numbers for successive governments, they have also come to symbolise all that is wrong with coalition governments: ideological bickering and creation of narrow-minded interest groups making governments operate on the maxim - no change is the best change.

As much as I respect the Communists for they were the only formation- at least till the late part of the previous decade- who could take a moral high ground when it came to corruption and discipline, they are second to none when it comes to hypocrisy. Communists have always talked about public healthcare and the oft-used proletariat's dominance of the bourgeoisie, yet it remains that there is probably no single formation in the whole of India that has contributed to the neglect of education and healthcare institutions in the public domain as much as the Left has in Kerala and West Bengal. Jyoti Basu's sojourns abroad have always been well documented and so have his posturings for the sake of his son.

For all the pragmatism that the Indian Left has come to stand for, Basu will probably have to be placed right up there with the likes of Castro, Chavez etc for the control that he has wielded over West Bengal for such a period of time; it is only the passionate anti-imperialist (read anti-USA) , anti-free market pleas that have enabled them to stand the test of time. Basu was also different because world history is replete with instances of democracy having collapsed under the weight of communism whereas he managed to legitimize leftist ideology. The election machinery that the Left managed to build up had been the cynosure of many eyes until a woman with her group of activists managed to expose it all through Singur and Nandigram. Basu shall and should be remembered for his land-reforms and reforms of the village level administration but he should also be remembered for having driven industry, art and science out of what was not long back considered the intellectual capital of India. Rasogallas and Mishti Dahi are still their favourites; the metro rail network wears the same paint; the Hooghly bridge and the Victoria Terminal are still the only objects of envy; and Alimuddin Street still houses the blocks of power. Take out the trams and the tanas, you would hardly realise that the world has moved forward twenty years in time.

But in death, all faults have to be conveniently forgotten. It is a pity that it took the unusual concoction of India's tallest corporate magnate and the "wronged daughter" from Bengal to bring them into public conscience. The fact that the Communists have lost their identity all of a sudden will probably be Jyoti Basu's legacy in Indian politics if a dispassionate obituary were to be written.

Meanwhile, I wonder what the next generation discusses over lunch on Sunday afternoons in that brick apartment near Lake Gardens. Basuda is no more; Dada is history in a different way; however, politics is as much about the lady in the white saree and her cloth jhola as it is about Buddha Babu. Is this West Bengal's moment of awakening?

A breath of fresh air!

I am downcast, depressed, and in mourning. The city that I have taken to has just prevailed over my adopted cricketing city. Mumbai might have won the Ranji Trophy for a record 39th time by beating Karnataka, but I have never been so excited after watching a Ranji game.

We have just seen the future of Indian cricket though I am sure that Akku would already be shaking his head in disapproval. Even while admitting to my habit of using hyperboles liberally, I am convinced that Abhimanyu Mithun and Manish Pandey represent the future of Indian cricket in the bowling and batting departments. And much to the chagrin of all my friends, I am also convinced that the Bangalore Royal Challengers are going to be very difficult to beat in the next edition of the IPL.

Coming back to the game, the ground was jam-packed; there were people on top of tress, lamp-posts, electric towers and every other conceivable vantage point. Just goes to show you that the longer format of the game is still the most captivating provided you have a good playing deck. The tussles in Australia and South Africa have definitely provided for more interesting viewing than all the mindless lopsided one day internationals that have panned out in the sub-continent.

A toast to test match cricket indeed!

P.S: Special mention of Akku, Vaibhav and Abhishek who found nothing better to do on New Year's than solve my crossword.

The year that was!

Difficulty Level: Very Easy

E-mail your solutions to varun.adidas@gmail.com. All completed entries to get treated! :P

Double click the images if you are having difficulty viewing it. Luck with it!

India 2010

What's in a name?

Namesake:

It is final and binding. If you are a resident of America, you cannot have first names that are more than six characters long just like you cannot have passwords that are more than twelve characters long. I came this conclusion thanks in no small part to the organisation that I work for. Being a part of the great Indian software and 'foren' dream, I came across quite a few NRIs (Non-Resident Indians), RIRAs (Resident Indians Residing in America) and INRIs (Indians Never Resided in India) who had made a fortune for themselves abroad. Something that did puzzle me then was the abridgement of the first names in proportion to the weight of his/her bank balance. I have heard of three different persons by the names of Sri, Vats and Son, all originally Srivatson and observed that there was a pattern to it. Basically, all first names are of the form ABCDEF where one and only one of B,C,D and E must be a vowel and at most just one of A and E can be a vowel. To put it simply, all first names must be less than or equal to six characters comprising just two vowels and that too only if one of the first or the last letters is a vowel. The preferred methodology is pretty simple: take out the first two syllables from your actual name and append a vowel if your name sounds very cheesy otherwise. Thus, Venkataraman becomes Venky, Kashiram becomes Kash and Samrath becomes Sam. I do feel for all those Fakruddins and Khsitijs who are in the U.S.A . I am also indebted to my parents for having shown tremendous foresight in this matter.

The question is popped:

Recently, I had one of those nightmarish visits to one of those very distant relatives. One of the problems with visiting such folks (accentuated in Tam Bram families) is that the host professes to have known you all his/her life so much so that you would almost think that he/she had been living with you all along. To make matters worse, you have no option but to nod with a sheepish grin knowing only too well that even the slightest revolt would invite censure. This was a visit to one of those X'S Y's Z where X could stand for any one of uncle, aunt, grandfather or grandmother, where Y could for one of nephew or niece and where Z, for the sake of simplicity, is always brother or sister. I must confess that I remember just the X in this case and that is probably due to the fact that X was accompanying me that day. Being the closely knit unit that we are, I had to repeat the sheepish grin with nod ritual in front of all of Z1, Z2, Z3....Zn, where Zi belonged to the immediate family of Z. One of thos Zs, say Ze, had to embarass me with this peach, "kalyanam kazhinjittu ethra samayamayachu" (How long have you been married?). Now, folks who know me well would already be in splits at the very thought of somebody even contemplating the idea of yours truly being married.For the information of others, I am odd-on favourite at 59:1 to get married last when it comes to my colege batch, and only a marginally better 1:3 when it comes to getting married at all. However, that question did bring me to life and make me sit up straight and my facial expression at that point of time must have made for a good tableau for Ze tried to make peace by admitting that the subject in question looked too young to be married. Mention of my vitality made me smile wryly as I helped myself to some halwa with filter coffee in hand. Another problem with visiting these Zs is that they invariably invoke some other distant relative of theirs who might have had a very vague facial resemblance to yours and do a very thorough juxtaposition. To copound the misery, all Zs but for Zi have to support Zi's observation. I felt that the halwa was too sweet and that the coffee had little sugar and restored both to their rightful positions.

CAT chaos -I

The CAT kicked off amidst great excitement at various centres across India. However, major chaos has broken out with reports of servers crashing and students unable to take their exam.

Preliminary reports indicate the handiwork of some MNS youth appearing for the exam. It appears that the trigger for their action was a question in the Data Interpretaion set which had information about the different languages that 500 students studying in four different schools in Maharashtra spoke. Apparently, one of the questions corresponding to that set went along the lines of, "At least how many students speak Marathi?" with none of the answer choices reading 500. To make matters worse, the question had 0 as one of the options.

Incensed, these youth seem to have gone on a rampage damaging all examination servers they could lay their hands on. On being asked to comment, the Chairman of the CAT had this to say, "Aise bade exam mein aise chote chote cheezein hoti hai". A Cabinet Meeting has been called to address the issue and it seems that as a conciliatory tactic, Marathi in the question will be replaced by Tamil. The DMK is said to be monitoring the situation closely. More information as soon as more news breaks out......

Cul-de-sac

The horizon was begiining to blur as he gazed at the distance in the dark of the night. He had been given 12 months to put it all together but he had failed miserably. Unlike in the past, he was running away from reality and ducking challenges. He was feeling lonely and had started questioning the purpose of existence.

He had stopped playing the beautiful game; he hadn't bowled full throttle the way he used to love doing in college for over four months; he had quit newspapers too, something he hadn't done all his life. His food habbits had become wayward and he had taken recourse to torturing his body. He had shed 4 kilograms over the last week.

All of this wasn't new to him. He had been through all this and much more a couple of years ago but then he had known the cause all along and where the salvation was, just that he had become too weary to make that effort. This time around, he knew that there wasn't going to be any salvation.

He had tried reasoning out with many people but all the counsel had left his mind muddled.

Maybe, he was just going through a bad phase. His soul-mate had fallen seriously ill; he had had one of the nastiest tiffs in his life with his punching bag for all seasons; one of the nicest persons he had ever come across had left him to build his own canvas; Liverpool were having one of their worst seasons ever and India were contriving to lose cricket matches.

It had to change quickly for his sake. He realised that he needed a change in his environs. He packed his bags and....

Cul

What a city!

It has been little over a year since I started residing in this city and in the midst of a very monotonous routine, I must confess to having taken great interest in the various little intricacies that go about defining life here and how this magnificent city always seems to leave you feeling inadequate

Swine flu was no different.

It started off being the butt of all jokes around the cafetaria table. I was having a tough time at work being forced to abandon travel back home in order to slog those extra couple of hours . Hitherto, all my adventures in the Mumbai suburbans had been late night ones. I must admit to having freaked out once when a group of Sainiks stormed into a bogie which had been occupied by just yours' truly at one in the morning. I have great sympathy for eunuchs as a class, but catching them in compromising positions on another occasion well after midnight- to put it mildly- was distasteful. So here I was, wating at the station at five in the morning, eager to catch some fresh air, which I hadn't done for a couple of days, having been caged in the stifling air-conditioned environs of my workplace.

I was to be taken aback as the train arrived

Initially, it seemed as if a certain religious sect whose extreme adherents cover their mouths was celebrating some auspicious day. Besides, there was hardly any space to step into. Once I regained my wits about myself, I was telling myself, "Dude, this is Mumbai for you". I came to understand that there had been "two fatal cases of swine-flu" in the city over the past twenty-four hours. I resisted taking my handkerchief's assistance, at the same time berating my fellow passengers for resorting to such unwarranted, panic-driving measures. I shuffled uncomfortably next to an elderly person, who by all conservative estimates was over seventy and lo and behold, out came his handkerchief to cover his face with a look of disgust and extreme disapproval to boot.

"F*** me. What does that **** think of himself?" was all I could mutter. Contempt for fellow passengers soared. I took in the morning air with great aplomb for the rest of the journey

The 'nose and mouth' (N&M) disease had spread to hawkers on the platforms when I took the train back to work. I was in this exalted state which one attains when he/she believes in being a cut above the rest. My parents' narration of swine -flu incidents across Mumbai had done very little to dent my ego. After a couple of stations, a couple of my colleagues joined me with masks in place. Inhalation became more measured all of a sudden.

After another thoroughly exhausting and boring day at work, I hired an auto to get to the rail station. No sooner had I boarded the auto than the driver took out his handkerchief and put it in place (N&M). I was stumped and muttered the very same lines under my breath, but this time in Hindi.

The scene at the rail station resembled one out of a cancer hospital. My dad has a sense for calling me when you least want him to, and unsurprisingly, he was on the line giving me details about cases of swine-flu reported. My hand reached out to my pocket in a flash, and N&M had its latest victim. I ensured that my hands stayed inside my laptop bag for the remainder of the journey not wanting to catch a strain of the virus that may have been 'flying over my head or resting on the window sill'. The state of elation that I had been in seemed a distant dream. My head started spinning; my body was shivering a tad and there were a couple of sneezes, all of which did great good in contributing to my general sense of well-being. I just wanted to get back home safe. I also remembered the old man and the auto driver and started apologising to them.

Once I reached the station, I dashed to the nearest pharmacist and was relieved when he gave me a couple of N-95 swine-flu masks. I was sweating now and heaved a sigh of relief when I got home.

I woke up the next morning and washed my hands with all the different hand-washes that I had bought the previous day. I popped in a couple of Vitamin tablets and also some almonds as confidence building measures. With a clean handkerchief in pocket and mask in place (N&M), I stepped out of my house, still feeling mighty impressed about myself.

I was to be taken aback again.

It was a sight that had to be witnessed. N&M had vanished and the 'Aam Junta' was celebrating Janmashtami in full splendour. People were no longer suspicious about the person next to him/her and it was an outpouring that forced the 24*7 Nonsensical & Endlessly Weird Speculating (NEWS) channels to tone down their coverage of swine-flu. I was humbled and at the same time felt dwarfed as I deposited my mask in the waste-bin nearby

I was telling myself again, "Dude, this is Mumbai for you".

(A special word of thanks to Rahul for inviting me home and then going on a 'personal errand' forcing me to write to kill my boredom)

Is this guy the greatest ever?

One debate ended only for another to start. No sooner had Federer out-aced Andy Roddick on the hallowed SW 19 Centre Court than questions started floating about the greatest contemporary sportsperson. Poor A-Rod! The Nebraskan with the never-say-die attitude who had been anointed Pistol Pete's heir had outplayed and outwitted the one who was trying to stake claim to being the greatest ever tennis player only to be knocked out in a manner nobody had foreseen.

15 Grand Slams, 20 Grand Slam finals, 21 Grand Slam semifinals...The list might be fascinating compilation for a statistics buff. Just to put things in perspective, it is like staying the top batsman in T-20, Test and ODI cricket or being the FIFA World Footballer of the Year or winning over 90% of Formula 1 races not once but over the course of five years. Tiger Woods might point to his reign atop the Golf rankings; Lance Armstrong could point to all his Tour De France yellow jerseys; Haile Gebrsellasie would point to all the long distance records he has broken but...

Irrelevant!

Nobody amongst them has done it with so much ease, so much class, so little effort, so little difficulty and so much consistency. Rafael Nadal will always spring up when Federer critics speak but, lest we forget, tennis is probably the only sport which tests the versatility of an individual to the extent where fundamentals that apply to one surface don't necessarily hold on another.

So, is it a given that we are watching the greatest contemporary athlete? Michael Schumacher won five F1 Championships on the trot but Lewis' struggles this season have highlighted the importance of the machine in that sport. Besides, Michael didn't exactly cover himself in glory when a certain Fernando Alonso came along. Tiger Woods' will break all possible golfing records, but he will do that over a longer timeframe because of the nature of his sport. Yes, Woods has to take on the entire field all at once unlike Federer who has just one adversary at a time and just has to ensure that he is better than his opponent on the given day. Well, that is what pressure is about! Tiger Woods' disastrous Matchplay record (golfing equivalent of a tennis match) will bear testimony. Tendulkar, Ronaldo (Brazilian forward), Steve Redgrave (British rower), Lance Armstrong (American cyclist), Garry Kasparov etc. come to mind when reaching the pinnacle of one's profession gets talked about, but honestly, they have never overshadowed the sport like Federer has currently.

And, before you jump out accusing me of being elitist or sexist, I do admit that the above is just a list of male champions from sports which are not exactly nondescript.

No wonder, the act of coronation was so special. Hardly ever before have we witnessed such a power-packed celebrity gathering for a sporting event. It was as if greater powers had set it all up. By the time, Roger wins a few more Grand Slams, it might well be time to ask, "Is this guy the greatest ever?"

Back to Square Twenty?

So, we are no good against ENT balls; we crumble under pressure; we need to stop playing the IPL; and we need to find a new skeeper to replace Moody Selfish Dhoni.This depressing media diagnosis- bearing a striking resemblance to the one about a certain neighbouring country a couple of days back- after failure to perform well in a tournament that has been likened to WWF, desserts and foreplay smacks of a convenient ignorance on part of the ever hypocritical media.

It is probably time to take a step back and dispel a few myths:

Myth 1: T-20 cricket is made for India

Individuals growing up playing a form of cricket colloquially referred to as gully cricket don't necessarily represent a perfect T-20 fit. Traditionally, Indian cricketers have never been athletic, innovative, powerful or tactful- qualities that are a must for the T-20 format. However,they have always been bestowed with talent and a sense of timing. With a fielding side that is bound to concede ten runs per game on an average and a bowling unit containing no mystery bowlers or bowlers of extreme pace, India were bound to struggle once T-20 started to be viewed as a science by other teams. As a good T-20 team, you need to have most of the above attributes or be ruthlessly efficient like South Africa are. India don't tick most boxes and that has been borne out by India's T-20 record since that World Cup victory. You can still win it all in this format if you have huge doses of fortune along the way and that in itself should be the biggest commentary about T-20 cricket.

Myth 2: Dhoni is Mr.Cool

M.S.Dhoni wouldn't even make the shortlist of the 100 most gifted players in the country. For a player with such limited gifts, he has to keep working on his game consistently and inventing himself. Add to this, the pressures of captaincy, wicketkeeping, girlfriends and advertisements (kiddology attached to the last two), it is no wonder that he has started getting very grumpy of late. Being critical of teammates, selectors and the Board in full media glare doesn't sit well with his Mr. Cool image. If anything, the game of cricket has once again proved to be the great equalizer.

Myth 3: Dhoni is Mr. Fool

Dhoni has been regarded as being selfish because of his approach to ODI and T-20 cricket of late. There is no doubt that he has made a conscious transition from the slam-bang approach when he first played international cricket to a more measured one. People tend to forget that most of those runs scored as a result of that carefree approach were made against bowling attacks that read Sami, Razzaq, Fernando,Vaas, Naved on the flat tracks back home. Dhoni, like most hitters, has a hitting zone which international bowlers have sussed out and stay away from. It is not Dhoni's fault that he is no longer able to create so many scoring opportunities. Rather, it is to his credit that he has managed to evolve an alternate batting methodology and managed to stay in the hunt and not become another of those one-year castaways. Sachin Tendulkar too made a not too dissimilar transition not long back. However, where Dhoni needs to buck up is in his belief that he can comfortably chase down 10 runs on an average over a period of time. Some of the greatest individuals in the game who have worked with Dhoni have called him the smartest cricketer around and when he has a few off-days, we would be better served with a "it's time to move on" on our part rather than have a go at him. Equalizer or not, expect Dhoni to be back trying to get one up on others. He has got that cheek that has rarely been seen in Indian cricket.

Myth 4: India are going to leave the rest of world cricket behind

Individual work ethic has never been India's strength. For a team to stake claim to being the best in the world, it has to be together for some time and then be able to make the transition to the next level. Talent and that surprise element will only get you a certain distance .There is something about the Indian psyche that has prevented this from happening, thus far anyhow. We know what happened when Greg Chappell brought in some tough training routines; we see how Yuvraj has gone from being one of the best fielders in the world to possibly the worst in the Indian team and we have also seen the stagnation in all our fast (read medium) bowlers but one. We are still going to have phases when we take world cricket by storm (ala Pakistan) when we get a team of young, talented individuals. But, as word goes around about their weaknesses,a process likely to be expedited by the IPL, we will also get Indian teams that dabble in mediocrity for a while.

Myth 5: India need to look for another captain

Dhoni has been India's shrewdest captain over the last decade and should be in the saddle for the foreseeable future just by virtue of the fact that he is the only certainty in the playing eleven. The other two contenders, Sehwag and Yuvraj, have never displayed any consistency in all forms of the game over a period of time and have always been found wanting when it comes to work ethic.

So, the prognosis, in reality, shouldn't be all that depressing. India, just by virtue of the exposure that its talent pool gets should be amongst the best in the world which in itself represents a far cry from the past, but unless a team of individuals with the drive of an Anil Kumble or a Sachin Tendulkar come along, it is difficult to see a group of youngsters- pampered and built up by the media without having proven their mettle - take the next step. Till then, it is time to tone down expectations of an invincible Indian side but at the same time cherish the fact that every defeat is not going to get us back to Square One as was the case in the past. Considering the format, Square Twenty would be appropriate, right?

The malaise -I

So, here goes another of those pseudo-intellectuals ranting about the Mumbai blasts and all that is supposedly negative about India- its politicians; its society; its neighbours;its people et al. The Mumbai attacks will go down as a landmark event in awakening the collective conscience of the 'common man'. If the anger is palpable and bursting at the seams, it has probably got less to do with the inevitability of these attacks and helplessness when one does happen but more to do with the fact that this was the first time that the upper echelons (read affluent upper strata) of society was targeted.

In its aftermath, we are already witnessing the customary recriminations. There have been questions raised about insufficient infrastructure; the security and even the media. No other country in the world is faced with such a multitude of difficulties when tackling any issue. Our secular and pluralistic credentials always seem to come in way. The USA had to stand up to a barrage of criticism once the interrogation for 9/11 commenced for the way minorities (read bearded individuals) were isolated and targeted. The American society by and large, however was unaffected. Contrast the situation with India where the killing of every individual in any 'encounter' has political repurcussions. 

I suspect that we have carried too much baggage ever since Independence because of the word 'secular' in the Preamble to the Constitution. For all things that the endearing Mahatma was able to obtain, his methods have ensured that we will forever be burdened by minority appeasement that will always prevent us from taking decisive action as a society. 

The Indo-Pakistan conflict has been allowed to linger on for so long that it would put the Middle East conflict to shame. We have reached such a dead end where a round of talks is said to be successful if a consensus has been arrived at to meet again. Successful resolution of the Kashmir crisis would require a major compromise on the part of one of the sides which cannot be foreseen in the near future. 

The less said about the leadership vacuum at the centre, the better. Manmohan is honest but soft; Advani and Modi are tough but communal; Mayawati and Pawar are shrewd but regionalists; Sonia is probably downright incompetent. Voting has suddenly become an exercise in trying to pick out the lesser of the evils- an elimination as compared to positive support. Is it realistic to expect decisive and fair action from this motley crowd?

Threats of controlled military action constitute mere hollow rhetoric since the reality of the situation is something else. Pakistan is a nuclear state where worryingly the controls are in the hands of rogue elements. India cannot afford to be reckless as a result of the actions of its political forefathers and its best hope lies in a sustained international diplomatic effort backed by concrete pressure tactics.

India probably needs a decisive political mandate in the next parliamentary elections. Right-wing or centrist, the ruling formation should have the mandate to carry out reforms and govern without the pulls of a coalition government.

The country as a whole could benefit if:

1) Regional parties are banned. The political system can simply survive with so many stakeholders who have a parochial outlook. Regional parties should be given space only in the assembly elections and there should be no more than three entities fighting it out at the national level.All states should be guranteed a budget amount commensurate to its size so that the respective State Governments can pursue policies that suit the interests of the state best.

2) Press censorship is imposed along the lines of the Red Kingdom. The media has to play a responsible role as it does in the USA (at least from an American perspective) or has to be forced to play one if it doesn't toe the line. As praiseworthy as the coverage in the print media has been, some of the news broadcasts have been horrendously lopsided. Most of the Hindi news channels are a disgrace especially when a crisis is at hand and the only sane and balanced coverage is not surprisingly on Doordarshan. Leaving the choice of what to watch to the audiences works fine when we talk about an educated society but in a society like ours, the media should bear in mind the fact that it has a responsibility to educate and not just trivialise and sensationalise. The barrage of criticism directed at our politicians by our media has left everybody disillusioned. Does Cuba or Venezuela have better leaders in Fidel Castro or Hugo Chavez? Did America have a better President in Dubyaman? But why are they still endeared? 

3) The dignity of the administrative services is restored in terms of work profile and compensations. We could definitely stretch our subsidy bill to have more motivated policemen, bureaucrats and defence staff. It could also reduce if not wipe out corruption which has been the perennial bane of our society.

4) Indiscriminate entry of foreign nationals into this country is stopped. All consulates should be alerted as the importance of screening individuals thoroughly something the US has been able to achieve post 9/11. The borders should be sealed and if it means army deployment throughout the year, so be the case. The Navy, Coast Guard and Coastal Police should have an integrated command at the top so that a unified policy can be arrived at. India could also follow the Homeland Security model to traffic its skies effectively. These attacks cannot be prevented by having a more sophisticated police force but only through a more co-ordinated intelligence effort.

 

    

Oh captain, my captain!

It could have ended no other way! As the champion motored in from the top of his bowling run with that trademark hop, skip and jump for one final time in international cricket, and thus relieve himself of all the burdens that he has had to face over the last year, Mathew Hayden backed out because of disturbances in front of the sightscreen. It was a false start! And now he had to go through that whole process again to attain that "bliss in solitude" which every individual encounters once during his/her lifetime.  And he got hit for a boundary!

Nothing could have epitomised Kumble' s career better than those final moments at the Kotla.Here was a cricketer who had gone  through 18 years of toil but had never had time to sit back and savour his achievements (of which there were innumerable).  He had to start all over and prove himself again at evry point of time in his career. Anil Kumble knew nothe word joy because he wasn't ordained as  a cricketer and the joy of playing sport comes only to amateurs and those professionals who are supremely gifted. Anil Kumble was neither. After all, he was a misfit, wasn't he? An engineer by education; a bespectacled young man whose looks would have done an academic proud; a leg-spinner who delivered the ball from the vertical and one who spun his spun his googly more and the most inelegant of batsmen to watch. For him, every morning was a question of sustainabilty, reinventing himself so as not to get found out and proving all and sundry wrong over and over again. He couldn't have afforded to let his guard drop for that would have meant that batsmen would have devoured him up in that moment of complacency. He  courted immortality all through the latter half of his career but they always proved to be false dawns for every period of exultation in his career was accompanied by disappointment just like that Matty Hayden boundary

Amidst the legion of greats, Anil Kumble was the greatest match-winner.  Sachin Tendulkar had some fine batsmen in the middle order but recall an Indian bowler of class and conviction barring Javagal Srinath over the last 15 years.  He turned India into a cricketing fortress and made it a formidable test match unit for the first time in its history. Mohammed Azharuddin will still tell you how much more important Kumble was when compared to Sachin from India's perspective. But one again suspects that the word match-winner will never sit well on Kumble's shoulders. He was neither flamboyant nor charismatic as all match-winners are.

It is very rare for a successful sportsperson to be adored all over the world as a great gentleman as well. Anil Kumble was just that. No cricketer has made a comment that has created as many flutters as when Anil Kumble said,"There was only one team playing in the proper spirit of the game" after the Sydney test. That spoke as much about the man's aggression as about the respect that he commands. It was a comment that ruffles Adam Gilchrist and Roy Symonds to this day. That he was the only stakeholder to come out unscathed also speaks much for the integrity and values that he has upheld and cherished throughout his career.

He makes for a great role model for lesser mortals as Rahul Dravid will gladly confess. He put into practice the maxim that anything could be attained through sheer hard-work, determination and perseverance. We might all try to emulate a Sachin Tendulkar but we must not lose sight of the fact that Sachin was supremely talented when he started off and that such a gem comes through only once in a generation. Kumble represents the common individual, one who has to give his all for any bit of success or recognition and one who has to improve all the time in order to progress.

Sport won't see a greater competitor than Anil Kumble. I haven't revelled in any Indian victory as much as I have seeing Anil Kumble bowl with a fractured jaw and plastered skull but still toiling with great skill against two of the greatest exponents of batsmanship in modern times: Carl Hooper and Brian Lara. Jumbo might have grimaced more with every over as it became excruciatingly painful and his plaster might have kept coming off, but not for once did he waver. It made for poignant viewing  because even the Indian players on the field had been stunned to silence. I can also not imagine any cricketer who would have come out to bowl after having been administered 10 stitches in a game that was destined for a tame end. I somehow suspect that events like these will be etched in my mind more than a Tendulkar hundred or a Yuvraj blitzkrieg.  

All the wickets that he picked up will be crucial in building up Kumble, the spin-legend for the sake of posterity. Just for pure effort and commitment, he deserves a place in the exalted company of Warne and Murali. The sheer weight of wickets will ensure just that. After all, we measure the greatness of past players by sheer numbers, don't we? Contemporaries won't grant Kumble similar leeway because for all his wickets, he was a limited operator. Maybe, he had to retire to derive that joy out of his achievements. 

It could have ended no other way! If ever there was a snapshot of a career, this was it. It was surreally ironic! He scored valuable runs in a manner only Anil Kumble can; he got injured off the bowling of his heir apparent trying to pull off an impossible chance; he came back to compete with  a single hand but was unable to bowl out Australia for there was not enough assistance in the track. It could have ended no other way! 

Is there a way out?

It has been a fortnight of tremendous torture! Terrorist attacks all these years had represented mere newsreel for me; a timely reminder to our Government and the world at large that Kashmir was an issue that needed to be resolved. Most people might have been shaken by 9/11, but once again to this author- who by the way confessed to be a Chomsky fan- it was an action with an objective to grab attention.

However, life has taken a turn for  worse over the last two months. Paul Krugman might have won a Nobel in predicting the global meltdown but there hardly seems to be any degree of uncertainty in forecasting terror strikes. And suddenly, as I travel in the sub-urban network day in and day out, there is this chilling realisation that I am at the very centre of it, wholly exposed and vulnerable.     

There are some questions that have been bothering me ever since as we all try and rack our heads in finding a solution to this. Should India give up on Kashmir and pursue the problem of Bangla immigrants aggressively so that we can live in peace once and for all? Would that be a sign of weakness and more importantly would that ensure stability given the imperialistic designs of nation-states so beautifully captured by Adam Smith? And how do we tackle this menace of communalism, something that is undoubtedly just an irritant in most eyes but one threatening to take on dangerously extreme proportions all the time? Should religious teachings be banned or should all measures be taken to preserve our heritage rich in religion and culture? Do we claim to be secular in the first place? Why should a pseudo-secular country like ours witness so much bloodbath in the name of religion? 

India's greatest failing is ironically its greatest strength- its claim to being the world's richest and most inclusive democracy.  It is only here that we try to understand communalism and terrorism; and it is only India that can celebrate the canonisation of Sister Alphonsa when there are questions being asked about relationships vis-a-vis the Christian community. Ironically, it is these secular and democratic credentials have given a free rein to all extremist groups and what we are witnessing these days is the culmination point where a battered ego guided by a primitive mindset vents its anger. Be it the Danish cartoon, Hussain's paintings or Tibet, India seems to be a pivot for all manifestations of hurt. If people thought that education was the solution, we all now know that the threat now comes from the most sophisticated computer engineers in the world as well. 

These are all seriously disturbing questions! How do we ensure that every individual has a societal orientation? Maybe, it is just time to chuck that artificial fabric that we seem to have so conveniently woven and rid ourselves of all delusions. But, again we are a peace-loving nation! Huh!  

A letter to the honourable Prime Minister of India

Dear Prime Minister,

It is with great anguish that I record these thoughts of mine in a year that was supposed to be your signature one. During the last two months, the Indian political space has witnessed an upheaval of sorts that could have significant consequences in the next parliamentary elections, and as a result prove significant in this country's future.

Over the last six months, I have witnessed, first with admiration, your evolution as a politician from a suave academic and economist and then with trepidation and alarm, the denigration of one supposedly honest and one who supposedly stood for values and ethos into just one of those politicos.

Even when Indian parliamentary democracy reached its nadir through the cash-for-vote scandal on the 22nd of July, here was a citizen silently cheering you on in the belief that it was all for a noble cause. When you, honourable PM, took on the Left single-handedly much against the whims of all the powers at the Centre, an entire nation rejoiced, undoubtedly surprised. For a country with an aspiring middle class which had been let down by the regressive policies of the Left, here was their messiah- their saviour in times of a distress. Your mass appeal reached such heights that Sonia Gandhi was forced to ask "why not" to a question on whether Manmohan Singh would lead the UPA in the next General Elections; Akshay Kumar suddenly found a competitor vying for space for the tag of 'Singh is King' and the Congress was suddenly looking upto you for direction. As one noted television anchor put it, "Manmohan Singh would go down in the annals of Indian history for having changed the economic landscape though reforms as Finance Minister and now for having changed the Foreign Policy map through the Indo-US Nuclear Deal". India Inc. rejoiced at the prospect of the derailed reforms process being put back on track with the Left no longer existent to change track. And an aspirational India- for long on the cusp of becoming a global force- rejoiced at the prospect of being a recognised global power at last.

But the reality, Mr. Prime Minister, would put most to shame. We have seen the worst game of political one-upmanship since then and what really pains me is that you, Mr. Prime Minister have been at its forefront. Bihar has been ravaged by floods over the last fortnight, and Mr. Prime Minister, you felt that your relationship with Lalu Yadav was so sacrosanct that you didn't find time to discuss things over with CM Nitish Kumar! Ratan Tata- the epitome of corporate value and responsibility not only in India but all over the world has been hit hard by protests from some nondescript individuals in Singur and Mr. Prime Minister, your Government prefers to turn a blind eye because it could do with a few seats from the Trinamool National Congress in the next elections! The Nano project was going to be India's claim to fame in the global manufacturing industry and now it has become an object of scorn! What is more despicable is that Mr. Tata took up the project in West Bengal to put it on the path of industrialisation and look at what we have got into! When that Commerce Minister par excellence, Mr. Kamal Nath tried to put in a word for Mr. Tata, he was shouted down by powers at the centre. And we thought you were pro-reforms!

Nothing in recent Indian history has been as cataclysmic as the abject internal security scenario. First, the Gurjar agitations that paralysed life in North India; the spate of bombings in Ahmedabad; the never-before witnessed pleas for separation on Indian soil in Kashmir and all the violence as a result of the Amarnath Land Dispute and now communal riots in Orissa between the Hindu and Christian community. It just goes to show the nature of the spineless opposition that your most inept Home Minister, Mr. Shivraj Patil continues to be at the helm with the task of sorting out all these disputes being left to that troubleshooter for all times- Mr. Pranab Mukherjee and your fabulous team of bureaucrats. Heads would have been rolling in any other country.

And now to your forte: economics and reforms. Ever since that trust vote, your team has been fighting fire trying to curtail inflation which has reached record heights. Thoughts of reforms look very far-fetched at this point of time. The FM has suddenly become invisible and the reality of the matter is that there are so many other issues facing us at this point of time that inflation doesn't necessarily seem to be a concern. That is the way, we Indians are, aren't we? We just have this freakish ability to absorb anything that is thrown at us.

And finally your record on education! The discriminatory minority policies on education have invited the ire of faculty of the leading institutes in the country at last. First, it was student reservation, then it was relaxing the cut-offs even further to fill seats that were still vacant, then came faculty reservation and finally, the extremely laughable proposition of an All-Women's IIT, a proposal so ridiculous that it was shot down by the Chairman of the Planning Commission, even though it came from the honourable President.

Mr. Prime Minister, can you still maintain a clean conscience and honourable silence even through all of this? When in North America, a certain Democrat is capturing the imagination of the masses talking of change and invoking the spirit of that legend, Martin Luther King Jr. through that famous "I have a dream" speech, are we wrong in expecting a brighter future? Are we wrong in wanting the Dream Team to rekindle our dreams and ambitions and spark our quest for supremacy? Mr Prime Minister, please uncover your cloak for it is too repulsive for us. We would rather not have you as a politician. Or Mr. Prime Minister, are the next Lok Sabha elections your way of being recorded in the history books? Mr. Prime Minister, history doesn't create leaders; leaders create history!

The week that wasn't

A chronological account of a few 'very interesting' days:

July 24th -
The time is 0001 hrs. I look forward to my Hyderabad trip and have an early morning flight to catch courtesy Go-Air. The trip is an official one as part of our induction process and there are around 50 of us making the trip from Mumbai to Hyderabad. Much to my dismay, I find out that I have been booked on IC (Indian Airlines) for the return leg. My dismay turns into anguish when I realise that I am amongst the 'fortunate few' who wasn't to get an opportunity to fly on Kingfisher during the round trip. One of my friends calls on me to rub it in at this late hour.

My dad is out of station and hence I place three alarms along the sides of my head and manage to wake up when the first rings. I am on top of the world when I leave my house and get abused by a taxi-driver when I attempt to wake him up. I sombre down and finally get a cab to reach the airport. My friends already start taunting me at this early hour and I rub salt into my own wound by complaining. My friends, X & Y, who incidentally are on Kingfisher are a big pain. Two stewards welcome me on board and there is no breakfast on offer- facts not missed by X & Y. If only they had been this alert every morning of their lives, they would have already gone a long way. I sleep well all my flight and make a naively unconvincing attempt to force upon the point that Go-Air is a better flight to travel on when you are looking for sleep.

My attire at this point of time is a mix of what a wacky Yankee and a hippie Indian would wear at night. I am in shorts which pass off as three-fourths as we reach the spanking hotel. I am led by the hostel staff to a place which I presume to be my room and much to my consternation, I find that I am in an auditorium with one of the heads of the organization I work for addressing us. I have half an urge to turn back and run for cover (literally), but I realise that most eyes are already fixed on this 'interesting guy' and sensibly, take a seat. I try to make my legs conspicuous by their absence and cover them with as many chairs as possible. People who know me well would concur with me when I say that there are more sightings of the blue moon than my getting angry, but at that point of time, I was seething. Being a GreenPeace activist, I feel compelled to attend the call of nature in between and slowly my inhibitions disappear and legs start to appear.

I don't think I have anticipated any moment in life as much as I did lunch that day for it gave me an opportunity to change. Kidding aside, it isn't a lot of fun turning up wearing beach attire at a plenary with the top executives of your organisation- which prides itself on etiquette- addressing you. I spend the rest of the day responding to various queries regarding my dressing sense. I feel like a celebrity addressing the media regarding a fashion faux-pas, the likes of which haven't been heard of since Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl a couple of years back.

I liberate myself at the late-night party though I still find myself justifying why a three-fourths extends only till your knee.



July 25th:
The time is 0001 hrs. Am pool-side when a foreigner comes up and pulls his weight around. "I guess the sun has gone down and it is not a great time to get a tan. Better off indoors", he tells me. I feel like boxing him on his ears but realise that am thoroughly outnumbered and take recourse to keeping calm. Retire to my room where my roommate tries to do his best impersonation of the Titanic 'hands on misty glass inside the car scene'. I wouldn't have minded it but the only problem is that he is inside the bathroom and makes some some weird sounds to boot.

I am woken up by the same sounds, the same window-panes and the same hands. Things are not helped when I realise that my mate seems to be deriving great pleasure out of his actions . I get an urge to check out quickly but still manage to reach my session late. As punishment, I am asked to do a duet with another sinner where I go down on my knees and feel thoroughly miffed. I don't leave the room during any of the breaks for fear of being late. A day for gayish pursuits indeed!

I start feeling more upbeat towards the end of the day and feel that my luck has changed for better. Take a good nap on the journey back to the airport. X & Y who are still my friends - and are on the IC flight- get themselves checked in and ask me to take a seat near theirs. Unsurprisingly, my request gets turned down and in keeping with times, I get a seat near the wash-room- an euphemism for a stinking toilet. I suspect that it is another prank on the part of X & Y.

Being hungry, I search for something to eat but I find the only thing costing less than a dollar to be pizza toppings. After much investigation, I buy a pizza at a cost that doesn't hurt my conscience much. I can't find a place to sit and my obsession for savouring the pizza lands me near X & Y, who are still my friends. And lo behold! I can only convey my sense of hunger after the pizza was devoured and leave the rest to the imagination of the reader, if at all there is one.

I sleep well again and get the shock of my life when I hear the pilot announce that we were 50 miles from Mumbai but were to keep circling for the next 90 minutes because of landing permissions. I am convinced that the plane would run out of fuel by then and rush down to the front just to confirm with my friends that what I had just heard wasn't just a figment of my imagination. My friends tell me that I wasn't dreaming but that is hardly relief and I go to sleep half-expecting not to wake up.

The flight lands thankfully at its destination but we are forced to wait another half an hour before descending from the plane and another 15 minutes before the bus arrives at the 'bus-stop'. The journey in the IC bus turns out to be marginally better than a ride on BEST and everybody is so mentally exhausted that nobody bothers taunting me again. I reach home uneventfully and say Amen!

Trust or Mistrust!

A presumptive look at tomorrow's morning newspapers:

Initial Impressions!

A week that started on a rotten note ended with me " putting my feet up" as Ricky Ponting would put it. Though it has been a couple of weeks with my first employers, my weeks still run from Monday to Sunday (for the uninitiated, weeks in office run from.....Oops! I forgot what they told me during my induction. Good riddance!).

Roger lost; India lost and worst of all, I had to wake up at 7 in the morning after spending a weekend with customary rainy-season blues. Though Indian cricket has ceased to captivate me ever since the Dravid-Chappell era, my jingoism and misplaced sense of national duty make me want India to win every time they play. But I would still take an Indian defeat for a Federer slam! How can somebody not like Roger? His equanimity, confidence, humility and class have meant that my support for him has always been unequivocal. Besides, I have always found Nadal's physique repulsive and obnoxious.

Getting sacked by your first firm within two weeks of joining wouldn't necessarily constitute a "peak in your career" and being a firm believer in journalistic propriety, I shall stay away from that. So what about India's greatest paradox, Mumbai? The standard organizational answer for that seems to be the "place where the slum-dwellers and the millionaire co-exist". I have found Mumbai to be a pathetic city to be honest with deplorable representation in the IPL. I am still to comprehend the fascination for this city that seems to be omnipresent amongst creed of our kind. I bet that there would be no other city in the world where you would require a train, a two-wheeler, a four-wheeler and a boat to really feel comfortable about moving around.

It is a city with messy traffic jams; gargantuan property valuations and uncomfortable pollution levels so much so that I reckon it won't be long before slums start constituting a reasonable bedroom, hall and kitchen integrated 1 BHK. The positives would be the pubs, the malls and of course the ubiquitous opposite sex. I wonder if girls have a similar priority list too! The only thing that has really elicited a chuckle out of me would have to be the cops. All cops look eerily similar; have greying moustaches the length of which would have given Veerappan a run for his money; have those big tummies with a book in hand and an Enfield for support and keep chewing something or the other. They would indeed make good brand ambassadors for the pan/ghutka firms though I may be naive in assuming that they have not yet shifted to friendlier confectioneries.

All these inconvenient truths about Mumbai reminded me about the 'trinity of books' that V.S. Naipaul -guess I have to call him Sir but again I am in an organisation which is extremely flat and discourages such practices; just to prove I wasn't sleeping all along during my induction- wrote about India which I unsuccessfully tried to complete during my vacations. The innate pessimism and inherent negativity about India made me give up finally. Vidya Naipaul might have praised by the sycophantic Indian media for the positive specks that he might have thrown out but I find it hard to reason why we seem to be ever so keen to embrace him as Indian. I consider him to be as much of an Indian as I consider Shobaa De to stand for the whole of humanity. Her penchant for female chauvinism would come a close second to the Left's China posturing as far as cliches go in Indian society.

Talking of which, I am really starting to get worried about the high rates of inflation and the economic recession for the first time in my life. I have got a pay coming up and have got a decent list of necessities, comforts and luxuries to procure. Most of my friends have already felt the pinch after a couple of dinners with their girlfriends - one of my luxuries by the way- and have already started anticipating their next pay. Some of my friends are also in the pursuit of trying to figure out which job would suit them best and are in the process of shifting already. Choosing the best place to work has all of of a sudden become as complex as solving Schrodinger's wave equation or understanding with certainty, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. You can carefully examine all options at hand and get confused; you can pick one out of those at random and still get confused after you start working or you can pick the one that pays you most and still get confused about the intricacies of the pay package. Maybe one of those IITians working should think of doing some research on how to solve this conundrum and come up with a mathematical equation . The very words 'higher studies' should only serve to add to his confusion.

Thus passes an uneventful life! Got to sleep now or I might well end up emptying the coffee-vending machine at office in my attempts to stay awake.