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Monday, December 9, 2019

A Punch In The Lurch!


Shyam arrived unannounced, as usual. Ram got really annoyed that evening; he had an important task to accomplish, his son being away on a college excursion. “This fellow is incorrigible! We meet five days a week in office and yet he lands up almost every evening!’ Ram thought ruefully. “Perhaps…his bachelorhood, sealed by now, is the crux of the matter!” he added to kinda solace himself. His problem was accentuated, particularly because his wife and son loved passing time with Shyam. In fact, they expected Shyam’s company as often as possible.

Ram welcomed him, as always, and Shyam, entering with a yawn, sank lazily in the comfortable sofa. He started talking immediately; nothing of importance, as always. However, that evening Ram was determined not to entertain his visitor for long. Before his wife could emerge he went inside, and said, ‘Give him all the pastries, sweets, salted delicacies with the tea, so that he loses his appetite for supper…and leaves soon.” His wife smiled with a wink and agreed.

Snacks came, tea came; but the visitor seemed to be in no hurry to leave. Ram was fidgeting, getting impatient as the clock ticked on. He seemed to hear a pitiful moaning sound from their bedroom balcony which made him restless. In his family tradition Ram never learnt to be hostile to a guest, always entertaining them, often, in the process, missing or delaying important personal engagements. Besides, Shyam was a colleague and a good friend working in the same film production house.

As the clock struck eight Ram could withstand no more. He stood up.

“I’d rather take my doggie out for his customary evening stroll,’ he announced summarily.

Shyam looked up at him, a bit surprised, and said gravely, “If I were you, I’d rather sit down for some time.”

“What for?” Ram almost cried.

“Sit down first, dear friend. I have something important to tell you,” he waited for Ram to sit down. “Three days back you punched that guy, Ravi, you know...in office!”

Yes, Ram knew it very well, he broke his nose, and he had been bunking office since then. Ravi was an extremely lazy yet cunning and slippery fellow; he always thrived on trying to steal credit for others’ work, and knew how to oil his bosses. That day there was a crucial programme meeting with the regional boss, and all new ideas were on the agenda to brainstorm upon. For that purpose only, earlier, Ram called for a meeting with his colleagues presenting few of his own ideas for concurrence. It was a perfect rehearsal, and Ram had no reason to suspect anybody, even Ravi.

But everything went wrong in the regional meet for Ram. Immediately after the boss’s motivational speech Ravi started speaking presenting a series of innovative ideas as his own creative thoughts which, to Ram’s horror, were the ones discussed by him in the internal meeting, and, to heighten Ram’s horror-turning-to-fury, got tremendous appreciation from the boss. To control himself or rather to save himself Ram tried to put in, helplessly, “Yes sir, we discussed these ideas already. Actually...” he broke off knowing very well that anything he uttered in favor of himself would only project him as petty and envious. Therefore, after the meeting he simply went up to Ravi’s desk, punched him furiously on his nose and stomped out.

“...he threatened you that he would lodge a police complaint, no?” Shyam continued, “but instead, with a bleeding nose, he went to the hospital, and then home to consult his wife before taking any legal action. At the sight of his bandaged nose his wife went into hysterics. She was uncontrollably happy that someone had done what she could never ever have accomplished herself. And how she wanted him to have it…somehow! She felt like an avenging angel, as it were. But then, surprise of surprises! She started taking very good care of him, so much so that their eternally strained married life became healthy and joyous… And my friend, I’m carrying Ravi’s compliments for you this evening. He is so grateful for your resounding punch; a game changer, I say!”

Ram couldn’t react at all for some time, sitting as if transfixed. Then he started laughing, in short bursts of breathless guffaws.

“Enjoy your moment with your wife, pal!” Shyam put in happily. “Let me take out your doggie tonight, it’s my pleasure, entirely!” he went inside and fetched the chained pet, its pitiful moaning now giving way to joyful crooning. At the door he turned around again and said to Ram, “In the meantime boss came to know fully what’s what! So, you can join office tomorrow without fear!”

Still laughing, Ram cried out, “No problem, buddy. Thanks. Come back and have supper with us!”

Thursday, December 5, 2019

The Duel!


“Oh, you’ve come at last! I phoned you several times, you didn’t bother to answer...okay, what did the doctor say? Has your thumb healed?”

“Actually, I had to sit there for nearly one hour; but the doctor hardly took any time. I walked out just after 7 PM, I wanted to call you then; but thought you must be on the way back home, and so decided to call later....actually, one of my friends lives nearby, she called me when I was waiting at the clinic; she invited me home. She came up to take me from the clinic. Their flat is nice and cosy...”

“That’s fine...but what did the doctor say?”

“...not like ours—congested lanes and non-airy—homely locality. I was also feeling tired after a hectic day...she offered to make tea...”

“But what did the doctor say?”

“You’re always impatient and rude! Just want to know what you want to know, quick and fast! All males are like that! Wait, I’ll come to your point shortly...she made a very nice and tasty roll; I really enjoyed with the tea, and relaxed. Meantime her sister called from our native town. Actually, her sister lives just behind our ancestral house...I never knew that, and never met her there. My friend handed me the mobile to say hello to her. We talked a lot. You know, we met in school days only...she married much before me, and went from place to place with her husband’s transfers. Now they’ve settled in our place...”

“Your friend lives so near to the clinic...so many times we went there, and she never invited us to their place...”

“Again you’re diverting the issue, I’m not talking about that, I’m telling you of my acquaintance with a lady after so many years. Next time we visit our native place I’ll definitely meet her...”

“What you say and do is always right. You see, I too need to speak my mind sometimes...but you hardly give me the opportunity, and get angry whenever I intervene. Okay, forget it, just tell me what the doctor said and advised.”

“Now, you’re starting it all over again! We can hardly discuss anything nowadays...we just land up with a bitter quarrel...”

“Nobody is quarreling now. I’ve not started anything; I only wanted to know what I needed to know...”

“I know....you’ll never admit. You’re always right! Fine, I’ll not tell you anything now...”

“Damn it all! Tell me, why the heck I should listen to you talking about some lady I’ve never known or never met even after enjoying more than fifty beautiful springs of my life!”

“Then why at all you’ve come to talk to me?”

Thoroughly fed up, the husband stomped out of the room, resuming his television news watching in the living room. The wife, sprawling comfortably in the double-bed, coldly opened the social media app in her mobile, and got busy.

Monday, November 25, 2019

Cricket: The First Ever Pink Ball Test A Superhit? And India’s Got Pacers!


Photo: indiatoday.in
Indian cricket fans crowding the Eden Gardens stadium reportedly encouraged Bangladesh players to try prolong the first ever Pink Test a little more; because it was all over in two days and 47 minutes frustrating the general expectation that the match would last at least three days. 45-60 thousand spectators thronged the stadium on the first two days each and even on the third morning when it was apparently clear that India would wrap up the match any moment more than 25000 were present. Such attendance is unprecedented for a five-day Test match ever played in India. Therefore, in terms of pulling people from all strata of society to the stadium the first ever D/N Pink Test is a superhit. However, in Kolkata, the Mecca of Indian Cricket with the famous Eden, enthusiastic crowds are always there for at least two kinds of sports—football and cricket. Given that, one cannot still take away the ‘superhit’ tag, and the fact that the match made Sourav Ganguly, BCCI President, the happiest person on earth whose decision it was to host the event and who said afterwards that more D/N Tests would be played across different centres in India, and if conditions are met India would definitely play Pink Ball Tests against Australia in Australia. A good beginning or history is thus made, and it seems to augur well for the classical format of the game.

The scenario is a little different in terms of competition. It was an overwhelmingly one-sided match in favor of India who registered their fourth consecutive innings victory—the 7th Test win on the trot—and it was the shortest ever domestic Test played. India swamped Bangladesh 2-0 in the series, both being innings victories. This one-sidedness somewhat poured icy water on the hot suspense built over the behaviour of the pink ball. It’d take more competition to show its true colors; for example, a Pink Test against Australia or England or New Zealand would bring out the real test for the pink ball under floodlights in India. At the moment it can be said that the pink ball seems to be more lethal than the red ball when the ball is new. The much speculated ‘twilight’ behaviour of the pink ball is yet to be confirmed; India batsmen didn’t show any palpable discomfort during such a period and Bangladesh counterparts fared miserably in all sessions—day, twilight or night.

One redeeming feature of Indian cricket that has been emerging in the last 2 years or so gets highlighted again, and in view of this writer it could spell a paradigm shift of focus in near future. It’s, of course, the Indian pacers or genuine fast bowlers who have started taking more wickets even on Indian so-called slow pitches. The Pink Ball Test was played without the services of Jasprit Bumrah, considered to be the best, and yet he Indian pace-battery of Ishant Sharma, Mohammed Shami and Umesh Yadav destroyed Bangladesh in both the Tests sharing almost all the wickets between them. The second Test becomes the first ever domestic Test where the spinners failed to take a single wicket while in the first Test R Ashwin managed 5 wickets—2 in the first innings and 3 in the second. Ishant Sharma bagged the Player-of-the-Series award—a rare feat considering the fact that on most occasions the Indian class batsmen or spinners at times used to get the honors, and in spite of a brilliant Virat Kohli notching up his 27th Test century in this particular match. Several international cricket experts have praised the Indian pace attack calling it the best at the moment. More significantly, green-top pitches are being prepared nowadays in India which sounds incredible considering the long-standing trend of preparing ‘turning’ pitches for domestic Test series. Sourav Ganguly who reportedly sat out of a Test against South Africa in Nagpur once when a green pitch emerged in spite of his specific instructions now promises to lead this ‘paradigm shift’. This augurs very well for Indian Cricket, and the already-bettered away performances stand to improve further.


Thursday, November 21, 2019

Cricket—Balls Over The Years As Kolkata Gets Ready For The Pink Test!


While the game of cricket originated in England in the late 16th century and developed globally from the 19th century the red ball has been used traditionally—since at least the early 19th century. International cricket matches have been played since 1844 and Test Cricket from 1877. The color change in cricket began only towards the late 20th century; however, the traditional red ball has continued to be used till today—in test and first-class cricket matches or completions. With the changes in the format of the game the colors of the ball started changing along with the traditional white dress of the cricketers on the field becoming colored.

The ‘red’ became ‘white’ in 1977 when Karry Packer introduced World Series Cricket (WSC) in Australia—as a breakaway ‘commercial’ league. It also included colored clothing for different players from different teams, use of floodlights and white balls. The erstwhile ‘day’ one-day international (ODI) matches became day-night, and it was the visibility or sighting of the ball in the night that brought in the white ball which offers better vision for the batsman  and it is supposedly batter-friendly with less swing and seam than the red ball. The first ICC Cricket World Cup was played in 1975, but the real craze for the limited-overs one-day format began only after the WSC. Thanks to its ‘commercial’ success the white ball use became extensively official and nowadays even ‘day’ ODIs are played with the white ball. Problems associated with the white ball are mainly that it gets dirty pretty quick, and therefore sighting under lights becomes difficult. This problem was resolved with the introduction of two news balls per innings from either end.

The first ever experiment with the pink ball happened in England in 2009, and since then it has been used there and in Australia—of course, in a limited way. Soon afterwards, the pink ball was officially recommended for day-night Test matches. The first Pink Test was hosted by Australia against New Zealand in November, 2015 which the former won in three days with the pacers dominating the proceedings. Since then, cricket boards and players have been debating over its use, particularly in India. After Sourav Ganguly took over charge as President of the BCCI, the historic decision to host a Pink Test in India was taken.

So then, the first ever Test cricket match with the pink ball sets off from tomorrow, the 22nd of November, 2019 at the majestic Eden Gardens, Kolkata between India and Bangladesh. Celebrities, political leaders, cricket experts and ex-players from across the globe are expected to take part in large numbers. The players from both the sides have started practicing under the Eden floodlights 3-4 days in advance. The two most excited persons on this venture are obviously—BCCI President Sourav Ganguly and India skipper Virat Kohli.

For the first time ever too, if this is healthy for Test Cricket or not only time can tell, a traditionally-quiet five-day Test match in India has become a tremendously hyped event. Lovers of the game are very curious to witness this historic beginning, and there are reports galore in the City of Joy that tickets for the huge stadium are in great scarcity and that tickets are being sold in the black market at astronomical prices. Numerous cricket fans are coming back utterly disappointed and frustrated after a futile search for tickets at the stadium offices. Complaints are afloat that tickets are being manipulated by cricket mandarins and there are even no proper notifications for online sale of tickets. Well, with the kind of cricket following in India, particularly in Kolkata, this is nothing but natural.

Eden Gardens...Ready!
Interestingly, people are looking for tickets only for the first three day-nights. Bangladesh, at the moment, looks to be down and out after India’s innings win in Indore in the first Test. With Indian pacers, Shami prominently, in top form, the much-touted green pitch at Eden Gardens may prove too much for the visitors without the services of Shakib and Tamim. Like the first pink test in 2015 most expect it to be over in three days, in India’s favor. General curiosity peaks anticipating the possible behavior of the pink ball under lights, during the twilight period, with the wintry dew and the scoring potential of the batsmen. Play is to begin at 1 pm daily with lunch break at 3; second session from 3.40 to 5.40 pm with a break for tea and the last session from 6 to 8 pm. Kolkata becomes dark just after 5 pm at the onset of the winter now.

All set...make way for the Pink...!

Monday, November 18, 2019

Two Strangers At It!


He stared at me; I stared him back. Our eyes got locked. And he continued to stare at me, and I felt a little uneasy and started roving my eyes here and there, still aware of the fact that he didn’t follow my action, his stare unflinching.

We were sitting at a medical clinic on opposite rows, waiting for the doctors’ call. This was a multi-specialty clinic, and so the patients were in the common lounge for doctors of various departments. In all probability my staring stranger was not in the queue for my doctor.

After sometime I stared back at him to check the status; to my dismay he was still staring at me. My uneasiness gave way to plain resentment now. I must know why.

I stood up, went over to his side and sat down in the vacant seat next to him. He now looked at me with interest, his face beaming.

“Do you know me?” I asked him, showing my anger.
“In fact, a friend of mine with sharp features and a pointed nose,” he began; “resembles you. That’s why your face caught my attention... I’m now sure you’re not him.”
“He is your friend, you say, and you took such a long time to confirm! Your behavior is just not right.” I cried.
“Oh, I’m very sorry for that. Please pardon me...you’re a good person, I really like you now. Please forget what happened. Tell me Sir, do you stay nearby?” he sounded truly apologetic.
Mellowing down a bit I replied, “Yes, within a walkable distance. What about you?”
“I also stay nearby...Hey! We could just turn out to be neighbors!” he said excitedly.

Then the conversation veered to locations and houses; people and markets and of course various local issues and problems. About half an hour later the stranger’s name was called. He stood up immediately. “Thanks a lot, friend! You know, waiting is a tedious job, you must find a way out to enjoy!” said he with a benign grin and turned towards the doctor’s chamber.

Now I could stare only at his back; however, I continued to do so till he vanished inside the cabin. Then, I allowed my lips to crack into a very tight smile, really making an effort at that; I didn’t want to invite more stares.


Wednesday, November 6, 2019

IPL: A Liability or Asset?



The Indian Premiere League (IPL), as a Twenty20 cricket tournament, was founded by business and cricket tycoon of India, Lalit Modi, the then vice president of the BCCI in 2008. The very next year the IPL was shifted to South Africa for the UPA government couldn’t give security assurance due to the General Elections-2009. After the third edition in 2010 the BCCI suspended Lalit Modi thanks to a plethora of allegations and cross allegations that culminated in 2013 when the BCCI banned him for life after a series of investigations. He shifted to London in 2010 and has been living there since. Meanwhile the IPL has emerged as one of the biggest cricket tournaments of the world in terms of chiefly money—by the billions. 

From its inception many cricket purists including stalwarts and even politicians criticized it as ‘commercialization’ of cricket with buying and selling of cricketers from across the world, called auction in moderate term, and teams consisting of Indian icons, young Indian cricketers and international cricketers based on their ‘price’ which was calculated as per their performances or potential. Thanks to its money-spinning ability and increasing popularity among popcorn cricket revellers the BCCI adopted the IPL as one of their ‘must’ activities and went to lengths at times, lobbying for it internationally. Even in the post-2010 period the IPL was never rid of controversies including match-fixing and the like leading to banning of franchises or teams from the tournament on a few occasions. However, the IPL grew and grew in importance, because international cricketers also began counting on it due to the money they stood to earn. National pride and franchise loyalties came into clash.

Again, from the start, many cricket administrators and veteran cricketers including stalwarts saw the IPL as the gateway for young talents—it is not clear if they just approved it naturally or due to the money-oriented vested interests. It cannot be denied that young Indian talents did get opportunities through the tournament in terms of both recognition and some assured money; but the point of concern was that the national selectors started looking at the IPL as a yardstick for selection in Team India despite the various domestic cricket tournaments being available since decades. Obviously, competitive cricket is being played in the IPL with team rivalries for the coveted trophy; however, the intensity generated by national pride—representing one’s own country in international cricket—can never be compared with the club-centric cricket of the IPL involving players of various nationalities. Problem is, the revellers started enjoying IPL matches as three-hour ‘cricket movies’, and the hype only magnified over time. We’ll now consider the scenario in the last two-three years.

Thanks to the IPL, an ocean of ‘talents’ opened up before the national selectors, and IPL became a somewhat ‘entrance test’ to find a place in the national team. In the roughly two-year period prior to the ICC Cricket World Cup-2019 Team India was ‘different’ in almost every match played by them—in any format. In the name of ‘finding the perfect team for the World Cup’ a process of experimentation began that turned out to be endless—and often mindless with players of dubious record finding repeated chances to play in the national team. An artificial syndrome called ‘the number-4 batsman’ was also created to justify this. As part of this process various ‘lobbies’ also began to form around certain ‘talented’ young cricketers with even cricket stalwarts joining these. One of the biggest examples was the peculiar case of ‘Rishav Pant’.

It is well-known that Rishav Pant has nothing to show in terms of one-day international cricket till now and yet when he was not selected for the World Cup team, a national hue and cry was raging across ranging from local protests to social media to editorial pages of national newspapers. Perhaps due to such national ‘outrage’ Indian strongman-opener Shikhar Dhwan got injured in the very first half of the World Cup. And what happened? Naturally, Rishav Pant was selected superseding various other ‘established’ options like Ambati Rayadu, Ajinkya Rahane and the like. And what Pant did in the matches he played thereafter? Well, he only contributed to the ‘decimating’ process of MS Dhoni who was persisted upon during the period for his ‘experience’ only, and the so-called hitters like Pandya and Pant came in to bat ahead of ‘experienced’ Dhoni, repeatedly—including in the crucial semi-final against New Zealand which paved the way out for India.  It was ludicrous to watch Pandya-Pant duo trying to win matches after just 3 or 4 wickets down. This is also to mention here that Team India had 3-4 wicket-keepers, 4 if we include KL Rahul, playing in certain one-day international matches on various occasions. This absurdity got extended even to a few World Cup matches too. As a devout cricket lover since ages I must say that any team that includes 4 wicket-keepers in the playing eleven can never aspire to win a major tournament.

With the ICC T20 World Cup-2020 less than a year away the experimentation process started again with the IPL becoming the all-important platform to select from. In the first T20I match against Bangladesh on 3rd November, 2019 in Delhi Team India didn’t look like a national team—it was more like an IPL franchise. That the match was lost was a foregone conclusion—notwithstanding the fact that Bangladesh was playing without Shakib and Tamim.

If such kind of a mindless IPL-centric experimentation goes on unabated only Team India and millions of fans are set to suffer from the syndrome of snatching defeats from inevitable victories apart from demoralizing so many other tested cricketers. The essence of IPL is commerce, and it must be accepted by all stakeholders. Domestic cricket should get back its lost relevance. In this context it is reassuring to see the new BCCI President Sourav Ganguli giving such a promise for a new era of Indian cricket. Else, the IPL will continue to be a great asset in terms of money-spinning, and a liability in terms of Team India’s winning ability at the international level. This writer had expressed the opinion earlier that any cricketer who excels in Test cricket can easily excel in all formats of the game—it is proved by so many legendary players. The upcoming introduction of day-night cricket Test with the pink ball between India and Bangladesh in India this month is bound to increase interest in the classical format.


Monday, November 4, 2019

T20 Cricket: Fans Defy Delhi Pollution, Bangladesh Tigers Register First Ever Win Against India!


About 25000 cricket fans defied severe levels of pollution and thronged the Arun Jaitley stadium in Delhi on the evening of 3rd November, 2019. Their love for the game and eagerness to support their team prevailed over pollution; as it were, to vindicate BCCI President Sourav’s Ganguly’s decision to go ahead with the match. The efforts taken by the authorities try cut down the pollution level around the stadium were eye-catching; in the sense that no such devotion is as yet to be seen to save the common people of the national capital from AQI levels that reached over 500-mark in some places. Well, this is cricket in India—and the money involved with the game!

Now over to the cricket played. The defying fans were ultimately disappointed with their home team’s efforts, and Bangladesh somewhat easily won the first T20I match by 7 wickets. In nine T20I marches played so far between the two sides this was the first ever win for Bangladesh, and that too in India. The joy of the conquering Tigers, obviously, knew no bounds, and they deserved to win in the final analysis, overwhelming India in all the departments of batting, bowling and fielding. Winning the toss was a distinct advantage for the visitors; however, their bowling was far more disciplined with their captain trying as many as 8 bowlers and keeping India in check from the beginning. Their win is more significant due to the fact that two seasoned players—former skipper Shakib Al Hasan who was banned by the ICC for two years from all cricket, later one year pardoned, for breaching the anti-corruption code which will prevent him from playing the ICC T20 World Cup to be played in Australia from 18th October, 2020, and Tamim Iqbal who pulled out for personal reasons—were not in the team. For India, Rohit Sharma captained as Virat Kohli was rested for the T20 series. 

For the cricket lovers the Indian experimentation proved to be a bigger set-back than the pollution. We had seen earlier how the Indian cricket management indulged in mindless experiments with the playing eleven for two years prior to the ICC Cricket World Cup-2019 that finally saw Indian losing to New Zealand in the semi-final. With the ICC T20 World Cup coming up next year this kind of experimentation (more of this in my next piece coming up ‘IPL; A Liability or Asset?’ in this space soon) is well anticipated. However, fielding a totally inexperienced team, particularly in the bowling department, against a formidable side like Bangladesh, was a fatal mistake that cost Team India the match. We can only hope that the ‘experimentation’ doesn’t go mad trying just anybody considering only their IPL record. And most of all, we must congratulate Bangladesh for their brave victory against India in India. The competitive spirit is set to get heated up in the next two T20I matches between the two countries.

Friday, November 1, 2019

New Rivalries: Cricket Vs Delhi Smog; Dada Vs Dew!


New cricket rivalries are emerging at the moment in India, immediately after former India captain Sourav Ganguly took charge as President, Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) on 23rd October, 2019. All cricket lovers including cricket commentators and top players welcomed taking over charge by Ganguly, mainly because for the first time a real cricketer—and an aggressive one too—has occupied the most important position. True to his nature, Sourav has already started planning for a productive era of Indian cricket; he met the present India captain Virat Kohli too. In the course of this he took two crucial decisions which are loaded with suspense and tension.

India-Bangladesh Series-2019 is set to start with a T20I match to be played in Delhi on 3rd November and there was a hue and cry over it due to the pollution levels in the national capital spiking to severe levels, particularly after Diwali celebrations and the continued stubble burning in the countryside. Cricketer turned politician Gautam Gambhir recently commented that pollution is far more serious than a cricket match; many others including environmentalists also objected on the ground that continued exposure of the cricketers to the ‘severe’ Air Quality Index (AQI) might cause serious damage to their health. Sourav Ganguly took the first decision—that now it was too late to shift the match to other venues. Players have already started practice in Delhi’s Arun Jaitley stadium (Firoz Shah Kotla ground renamed after the demise of the great leader), and it is reported that more masks are on the way for Bangladesh.

Delhi pollution repeatedly interrupted play during a Test match in Delhi in December, 2017 between India and Sri Lanka, and it was the first instance of such a kind, internationally. Sri Lanka players wore masks on the field and reportedly vomited again and again due to the pollution. Therefore, what is going to be the scenario on the evening of 3rd November remains tense and suspenseful.

Sourav Ganguly’s second decision was more historic and bold. He ushered in day-and-night Test cricket for the first time in India, which was pending for quite some time, after convincing BCCI officials, the India captain and Bangladesh cricket. So then, the first ever day-and-night Test match between India and Bangladesh is to be played from 22nd November, 2019 at the majestic Eden Gardens, Kolkata, Sourav’s hometown where he is popularly known as ‘Dada’. Now, since it is the start of winter in most parts of India the dew factor is going to be crucial, particularly for the bowlers. It will be a new rivalry between Dada and Dew, and what is going to unfold during those five days is also laden with suspense and concern.

This Series between dominant India, after their Test white wash against South Africa and a highly competitive Bangladesh side is, therefore, being looked upon by all with tremendous interest and worries. Immediately, we are looking at the first T20I in Delhi where the AQI is still over the 400 ‘severe’ mark at the moment. Pollution forecasts are also not so reassuring for the coming days. We can only hope competitive cricket happen without causing any harm to the cricketers and excited fans and spectators. Would ‘Dadagiri’ be able to prevail over the new cricket rivalries? Let’s wait and watch.

P.S: As on 01.11.19, health emergency declared in Delhi, all schools closed till 5th November, all construction work stopped till 5th November, some industries also closed. And of course, BCCI refuses to consider changing the venue for the T20I match.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

The Rough Cut!


It was long overdue. The fact of the matter was that there was a problem in that very part of the anatomy that needed the action which therefore had to be postponed indefinitely. Paban’s wife had been complaining a lot; that he looked horribly ruffled, the overgrowth flowing all around uncontrollably and so on. She understood his problem, but looking at him in that state day after day she seemed to forget the unfortunate fact temporarily. Paban often explained to her, ‘Let me recover reasonably well first. Then I’ll definitely complete the task. Rest assured.’ But, as is the way with wives, her taunts, despair continued unabated, Paban accepted.  
Paban also had a somewhat contrasting situation. A few of his friends always appreciated his looks in that state and exclaimed that he really looked very handsome. One of them even took a snap of Paban at a family event, and displayed it proudly justifying his assertion. Paban also liked the way he looked. He showed the photo to his wife, but she remained expressionless. He was not at all surprised by her indifference.

One fine morning Paban felt that finally that long overdue action could well be carried out. So he set out to the nearest salon which was quite well kept and air-conditioned. Yes, it was his heady overgrowth that needed a cut. One of the young boys there made him sit in the empty spongy chair before the mirror and waited for his instructions. Paban told him very clearly that the hair had much overgrown and due to the summer heat he was facing lots of problems apart from losing control in setting it. So he gave strong instructions to make it very short. ‘No need for styles or looks, just make it short.’ The boy confirmed it again, and then set out with his operation. Paban expected the normal scissors to be used as on all earlier occasions. However, before he could foresee any lurking danger the boy lifted the motored hair cutting machine, and applied it on the right side of his head. The machine whirred around his right ear, and he still had no inkling of anything serious. He was rather happy that the machine, used for the first time on his head, didn’t at all scratch at the head skin.

Over with his right-side operation the boy stopped and asked Paban to take a look at the mirror and approve for the operation to be completed. Paban picked up his specs and looked at himself hopefully. He was in for a great shock. He never experienced such a tormenting sight in his entire hair-cutting history.

The machine almost cleaned him up on the right side leaving, perhaps, only the scalp. He was furious; more so because the boy was asking his approval only after completing the horrendous action. He calmed himself the next moment. It was my instruction to make it very short, he thought. How could the poor boy know what ‘shortness’ Paban exactly wanted? Then there was the overwhelming fact; with his right side shamefully bared he couldn’t possibly go for moderation on all other parts of the head. ‘You have totally destroyed me, exposed all my gray hairs too. Why didn’t you use the scissors? In all salons I visit they always use those manual things only. Anyway nothing can be done now, carry on, dear!’ Paban said sadly. The boy justified the faster speed and efficiency of the electronic device.

When Paban returned home his wife was out on some job. Seized with an almost vindictive desire he very tenderly took a selfie showing his head prominently and sent it to her mobile phone. Prompt came her angry reply, ‘Why did you leave that much hair? You should’ve cleaned up completely! You birdy bald!’
As it happened a few days later Paban met his photographer friend concerning some work. His friend immediately expressed his shock and dismay at the sight presented by Paban. ‘How can you do this? No respect for appreciating friends? How heavenly you looked the other day…and now!  My good God!’

Paban always had this dilemma regarding his hair cuts. Some, prominently his wife and mother, never approved his long uncontrollable hair saying the overgrowth hid his beautiful face. While some friends, both male and female, always appreciated his hair, particularly when overgrown. Who is right and who is wrong, is the eternal question in his mind. Once his wife made a caustic remark, ‘Don’t believe your friends. They don’t want you to look smart; they like to keep you as an ordinary nondescript person!’

Till this day Paban doesn’t have an answer.

Friday, October 4, 2019

Why You Like Being Liked!


Like, giving or receiving, is the quintessence of life. Life can be reduced only to strife if you do not like or get liked; of course, such a situation is rare in most of the lives lived on this likeable earth. At the very beginning, meaning when you are born, it remains uncertain if you like being born or before that being conceived in the womb; the situation becomes murkier because most babies cry after getting born, and it is considered  a healthy sign. Therefore, we will omit the very beginning of our life when, in any case, we don’t know why that ‘me’ gets into a particular womb through some particular external source amid billions and gets born into a particular family in a particular place on our likeable earth, and focus mainly on the ‘likes’ generated continuously throughout our conscious life and why we always like being liked.

We start liking our parents, particularly mom, our food, our relatives, our friends, our teachers, our gender-specific entities, our bosses, various objects ranging from gadgets to books to schools to colleges to jobs and so on, and likes for us emanate from all such sources; because, our likings always generate a positive ‘feel-good’ factor that keeps us kicking alive. Therefore, in this probably ‘likeable’ piece of writing we’ll concentrate on why we like it tremendously well when getting liked by other humans or animals or pets. We will keep ourselves fully safe from any kind of ‘disliking’ factors lurking in every ‘likeable’ corner; that is say; we dislike being disliked at that.

At a very young age we feel energetic when mom smiles sweetly at us and encourages us to take the first steps in life, and we erupt into endless giggles which make the art of walking all the easier. When a father likes our hand-written alphabets we feel so happy that we start making more efforts to produce more beautiful letters. Our mom looks heavenly when we make no bones about food and start taking healthy mouthfuls, and it makes us so joyful that we make a vow to always make her happy. When our class teacher smiles looking at our homework and utters his/her likes this very act makes us all the more striving students. When our friends like our birthday presents or other gifts we become better friends. On the playground as some of us show our unique expertise or intelligence our team building spirit gets a fillip.

In the various other more mature stages of life the voluminous story of ‘getting liked’ becomes more elaborate, productive and infectious, a bit too much for this writer’s comfort, and therefore, we will mention only a few significant situations. Examiner likes your answers, teacher announces, amid heavy tension, the marks obtained, and if you get the highest or very good marks you get enthralled and grateful; if you happen to exchange looks with members of the opposite gender, and those looks convert into smiles or talks you get an adrenaline charge, and teasing from your friends makes it all the more enjoyable, of course, sometimes a ‘like’ becomes ‘love’ which is, however, not included in this presentation; a faceless examiner somewhere gives you good marks for your answer paper for a job, you get a call for interview, interviewers like your personality and you get the job, and this makes you the happiest person in life; it is assumed you immensely like your spouse, and if the spouse gives back that ‘like’ or ‘love’ you find your life worth living; when your boss likes your works and recommends a promotion you are in the seventh heaven with insatiable energy and in the ensuing family life of being a father, being an uncle, being in-laws, being a grandfather and so on an expansive series of ‘likes’ get generated that keep you happy and happier. There could be many other situations when your creative contributions get liked and you become famous, through a delightful web of likes. Then, of course, there are the festivals, parties, get-togethers, family re-unions and the like where the likes generated are huge and deliciously infectious.

This ‘probably likeable’ piece would remain incomplete if we exclude the social media of today’s digital world from our purview. Well, in the social media there is a cut-throat competition for generating and devouring ‘likes’. If your post gets less than double-digit likes you normally won’t become unhappy, but will try better posts; more than ten likes will make you considerably happy and if you hit a century of likes you get charged up and ‘viral’ is the last word for your limitless like-generated happiness. However, there are certain unwritten rules for performing well in the social media—that you’ll have to be hyperactive on a continued basis, and you’ll have to like others a lot to generate likes for you. Therefore, a social media dictum emerges—like and get liked.

We have seen clearly how a like makes us happy at every stage of our life, and it is the best thing God has given us. We have not mentioned the word ‘appreciation’ which is also the best possible expression of positivity, because appreciation normally follows a like, in most of the situations. So we can look forward to having a species of ‘like-minded’ humans which can only be a good development on this suffering planet earth. There is also no harm to generalize the dictum evolving in the social media. Like and get liked. Happiness guaranteed.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Fade In, Fade Out...!—Part-6


My mind raging I look around aimlessly. My wife is sitting quietly beside me fiddling with her mobile phone, reclining against the hard back rest. Suddenly, my mind concentrates on our present situation. How long we had been sitting there? Did I doze off there for some time? If it happened like that did I dream about all the recent happenings? But how could that be; because we do not understand our present situation nor we know about our purpose of being there. And then, if indeed I dreamed had I woken up now? There is no way I could be sure of my wakefulness.                                                      
In a bid to bring about my deemed wakefulness I start pinching myself hard and harder, try shaking up my hands and legs; but nothing happens. Is this then an out-of-the-body experience? If it is so, then where is my existential body? I can still look at my physical self positioned there with my physical, seemingly, wife by my side. However, as I just narrated I am unable to get my body back to the deemed reality—by pinching, shaking up or lifting my body parts. At a sudden thought I try to touch my mobile phone tucked  in my pocket, and lo, I could still take it out and look at it; but I cannot dial any number or don’t remember any number. A scary thought creeps into my mind at that point of time.

Few years back I read a thrilling supernatural novel where the protagonist tried the out-of-the-body experience, and he succeeded in doing so. He was having a great time moving around like a wavy tuft of air seeing and meeting all kinds of characters without the earthly touch. All well so far for him as per the novel; but when the protagonist had had enough and wanted to re-enter his body he failed to do so. He was really getting desperate, looking for all kinds of possible solutions. To my consternation I can no longer remember how he got back into his body in the novel.

Am I in a similar kind of situation? Sense of trepidation rising within me I try to cough up an earthly conversation with unusually quiet wife—smiling at her, cajoling and teasing her. A cold sweat seems to have accumulated all over my body when my attempts miserably fail to elicit any response from her. I then try to relax pushing myself against the hard marble back rest of the bench, and surprisingly I can feel my back touching it. What the hell is happening with me?

I now decide to get into a mood of surrendering, absolutely; giving myself up to whatever force is supposedly controlling me. Wait and watch; be vigilant and alert to any possibility that may finally convert me into a reality, I start thinking fervently.

Of course, hope refuses to die down. This cannot be so utterly meaningless. Something is bound to happen, for the good I suppose. Perhaps I am sleeping physically somewhere and very soon I am going to wake up and find everything normal and earthy. Perhaps not, and in that eventuality I am in for more adventures in my so-called ethereal self, if at all. Again, I indulge myself in violent body movements and shake-ups; but to no avail. I look at my wrist watch, but time holds no value or meaning for me at that time. I look at my wife; she seems to be in a daze. I think of God. Save our souls, oh Lord! I start the act of surrendering to Him all over again.

Hope trickles in once more. I try to inculcate it in a most positive way. I read a lot of books on powers of positive thinking earlier, and many times succeeded in visualizing situations that were definitely unknown to my conscious knowledge. I start trying hard keeping up that spirit. I get up, take few steps here and there, and again come back to the bench with my wife. There are lot of people, maybe passengers, moving around in the area, but nobody seems to take any notice of us, and I also feel no urge at all talking to any of them. Don’t know why. Maybe something real is going to happen very soon...

                                                                                                                  (Concluded. ?)

Thursday, September 26, 2019

Fade In, Fade Out...!—Part-5


Two yards more to overcome...and I would be a free man, at least for the time being. I could no longer hear his laughter and dared not look back. Perhaps he really appreciated my gesture in not using the opportunity offered by the falling gun; that he was only joking about ‘good guys’ and that he was not going to shoot me down at all. On the other hand, had any murders taken place at the hotel afterwards I would have been a prime witness as I had seen all three thugs from close quarters. In that eventuality I would remain a marked man for eternity. But there was no way to know it for a certainty. Anyway, it would be very clear very soon.

I nearly stopped at the final point of the curve, gripped by persisting tension and fear. Taking an instant resolve to make the final dash to escape I rounded the turning successfully. No shots rang out in the air. And then I ran...I ran like a rabbit in pursuit, releasing the built-up tension and relishing my escape. Surprisingly, I never got out of breath; running at that kind of break-neck speed seemed effortless for me. I didn’t bother about that. What I bothered about was to forego my supper, get back to the guest house at any cost and sleep out that horrible night.

And I lost my way. The landscape was entirely different; it seemed to be a forest road with dense overgrowth on both sides, and I had no indicators to find my way back to the guest house. Suddenly, I confronted a steep rise in the road ahead. I stopped running and started climbing, again effortlessly. As I reached the highest point of the incline I stopped, and looked ahead expectantly. However, a new world was waiting to greet me in.

There opened before me the vast expanse of modernity—a big city with multi-lane brilliantly-lit streets, flyovers, high rises, shopping malls and hundreds and hundreds of vehicles moving both ways. I was stunned, utterly failing to react. Basically because I never expected such a spectacle, and after being confronted with that I found absolutely no clue to recognize that city which seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. I never knew the existence of such a big city so near to the town of our known guest house. That was another point that night when my mind was finally about to get out of control. So I applied all the common sense available to me, and decided to act to the best of my interest.

I moved along the street controlling my intense urge to ask the faceless pedestrians the name of the city. Perhaps my ego prevented me from doing that, because I was supposed to be a frequent traveler, at least within India, and it was utterly insulting for me not to have any idea about a huge city just a walk away from my latest destination. I also reasoned inside my mind that I would find out very soon.

My expectations soared as I saw a sprawling bus stand on my right which to my mind seemed to be an inter-state bus terminus. I quickly crossed over to the other side of the road, and entered the campus looking for ticket counters with possible names of stations or destinations. I got angry, frustrated and depressed not being able to find any indicator that could have satiated my quest. I stood still in the middle of the expansive concrete floor, not knowing what to do. I thought of queuing up in a counter and talk to the booking clerk; but what would I ask him having no idea where I was or where I was to go. I could be an absolute laughing stock; I decided to drop the idea.

Somebody called me out from behind sending a cold chill down my spine. For some time I froze not daring to look back, not able to move a muscle, such was the shock and surprise inherent in that sound. Because the sound was very familiar; it had been an integral part of me; it was inseparable from me; there was no way not to recognize that sound. It was my wife, my dearest life-partner of more than twenty years calling me out in her sweet tone.

Finally I whirled around, and there she stood, smiling sweetly at me, with no mark of any tension or surprise or anxiety or indignation or sentiment. It was I who started having most of these emotions. What she was doing there? Why she was there? I left her at home hale and hearty only last evening, and suddenly she stood there before me like an apparition. Again I had to apply full control so that my already tortured mind did not go raving out. Her calmness and naturalness also had an impact on my future course of action.

I decided to act normally too. Of course, I asked her what she was doing there to which she gave some incoherent reply, and I decided against pursuing it. Instead, we walked together towards a marble bench carved out of the side wall of the building, and sat down talking about nothing in particular. And then my mind started talking, talking rapid, and raging insane...

                                                                                                              (To Be Continued...)

Thursday, August 29, 2019

The Connecting Train!


I was supremely confident that the connecting train would wait for us. Our first train was running five hours late, and the onward connecting train was to leave from the big junction at about three hours after the scheduled arrival of our train. Most of the passengers booked for that train gave up hope. I tried my best to infuse confidence in them by pointing out the obvious fact that our reservation tickets showed confirmed births on the connecting train, and therefore, it was a sacred obligation on the part of the Indian Railways to make the train wait for us. Some of the depressed co-passengers believed in me. I was not only mistaken but was colossally being naive.

Yes, the connecting train left on the scheduled departure time, more than two hours before our final arrival, leaving us stranded for the night at the station waiting room. Of course, the ticket was valid and it was adjusted in the train leaving early morning next day for our destination. This was the first case of missing the connecting train, and it was by a huge margin.

The next time, we boarded the same train to connect the same train at the big junction for our onward journey; we were much closer to catching it—missing it by just an hour. And the same routine followed at the station for the early morning train. It happened for the third time in a row, and the third time was a real big chase of sorts.

That third time our train was running two hours late, and so we were very hopeful of catching the connecting train, because the time difference was three hours. The nail-biting chase began when we reached a small station about 30 kilometres from the big junction. The train was a little less than two hours late now, and it needed only half an hour more to complete the journey so as to yield us enough time to board the connecting train. We got busy packing up, feeling elated that finally we were going to make it on our third attempt.

However, the rail gods had some other plans for us hapless souls. The train, a superfast one, continued to wait at the nondescript station...for minutes...half hour...and more. We were getting really worried as the buffer time we had was drying out fast and furious. Now we started debating loud, and louder with ire and great irritation. Some experienced souls opined that the platform clearance was not given perhaps due to heavy local train traffic or maybe some other issues like goods train movement or derailment. Nothing helped though as our irritation gave way to plain simple anger.

Finally, our train started moving with less than half an hour time margin for the connecting train as far as we were concerned. It made good progress picking up great speed, giving us a renewed lease of hope. We were sure of making it when it reached the multi-track entry point of the big junction. And then, it stopped again for the final clearance.

We started praying, ‘Please let the connecting train leave a few minutes late...please... dear rail god!’ Perhaps as an answer to our prayers the train moved again on its final leg. We rushed to the doorway with our luggage anticipating which way the platform would come. We discussed our plan of action: two or three passengers would run immediately for the platform of the connecting, board it and pull the chain while the rest of us would come in the rear with the combined luggage. I was part of the more responsible ‘luggage’ team.

As we entered the platform we watched in horror the train leaving the platform, maybe about 7 minutes from its scheduled departure time. However, we saw two passengers of our advance team managing to hop into a coach. So, we kept moving hoping the train to stop any moment now. Unfortunately, nothing happened. The connecting train just disappeared in front of our disbelieving eyes. We were left stranded there with more baggage for comfort.

We took good care of the luggage, taking turns for sleep in the waiting room floor. Early morning we boarded the other train as on earlier occasions. At the junction midway on the route the two passengers without luggage getting no benefit by making it to the connecting train, having to spend hours at the new station floor joined us. I immediately asked them, ‘Why didn’t you pull the chain?’ They said they pulled all the chains available inside the coach, but none of these worked or perhaps their action was ignored by the railway authorities.

We took a solemn pledge, never ever to try that particular pair of trains again. And we did stick to our pledge to this very day. We learnt to be shrewd, reasonable and wise—go for any connecting train when the time gap between the pair is at least 10 hours or more.

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