Sitting in the living room and watching IPL with more than a few thoughts in my head. I am watching Rahul (Dravid) play and he just completed his fifty and boy! Did I see that, from him? Well, I sure did, a wave of his bat and the look in his eyes. Hmmm, interesting! Rahul (Dravid), to me is a splendid cricketer and my role model. And watching him play and seeing his fluent wrist action is worth every thing. I remember bunking school/college/engineering.. just to watch Indians play and if it is Rahul (Dravid), well, not an earthquake can shake me from not watching the match. I was crazy about Indian cricket and about him, in particular. Though as days progressed, the interest faded, thanks to the likes of (Javagal) Srinath, Anil (Kumble), Sourav (Ganguly)moving out and Sachin (Tendulkar), (Rahul) Dravid, well on their way, I distanced myself. And today, I watch IPL, with a half baked interest, because it is not team India and I seriously cannot make head or tail of this money-IPL business.
I saw Shane Warne bowl today and I remembered why he is considered a legend. Man, did it feel good to watch him bowl! It just got me thinking, a leader who leads with example is the one who inspires loyalty and confidence from the team. When the person is a legend or considered a legend and delivers good to his word, commands respect and earns the loyalty of his followers to the grave. And even if the team is ordinary, if the leader knows what he is doing, he will revive the deepest and the strongest motivations in the team to form a cohesive unit. May be that is why the likes of Steve Waugh, Sourav Ganguly produced such legendary matches to remember and that is why their teams and their off-spring will be revered. Don't know if I can categorize Shane Warne as a leader in the brackets of Steve Waugh or Sourav (Ganguly), but I yonder, for leading a team from different backgrounds is a challenge beyond imagination! And he led and won the trophy last year! But then, let me not get into all that…
The Rajasthan Royals are about to begin their game and I wish the Royal Challengers luck in defending their meager 133, but let me hope, for Rahul (Dravid) and ofcourse for Anil (Kumble), that they triumph. I have not heard who this Swapnil Asnodkar is and the first ball is a dot by Praveen Kumar. Out! Way to go buddy! Surprises, surprises and it is like I am just born and watching cricket for the first time, is Robin Uttapa a wicket keeper? Or are my eyes behaving funny! ?No idea… well, let me watch the match, will come back on the impressions later...
Hmmm, So, Royal Challengers won in royal style! what can I say? Anil Kumble picked five for five in three overs and am I not glaaad? The smiling assasin did it all again, in the new offspring of cricket, that too after six months into his retirement. This might not be much in the other nations, but in India, retirement has a different ring to it and age has an implication that cannot be shunned easily. So, I would say, I am pretty impressed by the Jumbo's performance. Thought defending 133 in a twenty-twenty is a daunting task, but it looked easy. Unlike the conventional T20 matches, this IPL looks like a challenge to the grit of the batsmen and the conniving thoughts of the bowlers, for it is not held in India (as it belongs, if I might say so) where the batsmen will have a free rein, but now, the batsmen will have to work for runs just as the bowlers will have to bend their back to get the wickets, evening the odds making it more thrilling. A disappointing performance from the defending champions and I must say it has been one-sided. And the acceptance speech from the man-of-the-match, "Rahul Dravid" has been tad bit disappointing, but then, that is him, straight, point blank, no pretenses and brutally honest.
But, I am not so impressed with this IPL, what with all these BollyWood stars hanging round the crowd making it a media circus, as though our cricketers are not sufficient to bring in the media attention. More than that, the pendulum swing is short and tricky. And it is not having Harsha (Bhogle) in it. There is no cricket, without Harsha Bhogle. :(, Thank God, there is Ravi (Shastri) and Sunil (Gavaskar), else, I don't think I would have managed to sit for three hours! It is a T20, why am I not enjoying it? For, it is not team India, so it is just not the same. Just glad that it falls before the T20 world cup and I cannot wait for it! But, I will try and catch as much of the cricket action as possible, it certainly is better than the fake reality shows being tele casted these days! And certainly it does not give me the flavor or essence of IPL, which, as the name suggests belongs to the streets of India, with the cricket frenzy and the high-fever of roars, noise, fireworks and above all, just the thrill of the raw emotions running onto the streets for every four and six and wicket. Man, do I miss that!
Apr 19, 2009
Apr 13, 2009
Dearest Grandpa
Lately I have a disturbing feeling that I am being hounded by the demons of my unacknowledged facts or rather a single fact in my life. I have never mourned my grandfather or rather I am still mourning for him, I have no clue. All I know is, I have not shed a single tear nor have I lost any sleep over the natural demise of one and only true scaffold of my life.
Dearest Grandpa,
I love you, a lot. It might not have come out, especially in the flag end of your life, where your grandchildren were your only beacon of light. I have not filled in the role of being a grand daughter, thanks to my own guilt of being a constant disturbance. I cannot feel your void, though there is a choke in my voice and thought, when I think of you, for you are physically no more and you cannot materialize in front of me, particularly when I read a good book or achieved something in my life, however trivial it may be, to appreciate, acknowledge and later proudly share the information to friends and relatives.
I remember the small steps I took alongside you as a kid on your morning walks, waving happily to all your morning-walk friends. I remember the stories you told me every single day after your dinner and mine. I remember the small rides your chauffeur gave me when you came back from your office. I remember the numerous questions I asked on your stories and the enthusiasm with which you went about reciting another relic from our culture. I remember you talking about a story and asking me the moral and speaking of the values that the story spoke about. I did not realize then, but now, I am humbled by those times I spent with you, where you built in me the very core values I stand on today. I remember asking you to recite me the story about Lord Shiva, repeatedly and how you read to me every morning, in your sing-song voice and then explained the meaning to me. I remember sharing your food from your plate, watching the evening news and waiting for it to be over so that I can hear another interesting story. I remember the legend you were, rising from the lowest level to the highest, through sheer determination and the farewell you received from your colleagues, who respected you, looked up to you and the kind words, your superior and your mentor spoke about you. I remember you speaking about the importance a teacher holds in your life and preaching that a teacher is God and next only to mother. I remember the discussions I had with you on the other works of fiction and how we went on for hours from one topic to other without the knowledge of time.
But where was I grandpa, when you needed someone to make you happy? I am the only one who took after your voracious appetite for books and I am sure that the only peace of sanity you had were in speaking about them, speaking about a particularly interesting wording. I failed you, didn’t I? That was the reason I could not shed a tear. I deserved to shun my pain, for I have not lived to your expectations, letting you go cold when I could have helped you, as you have helped me, regain a footing in life, albeit for even a short duration. Even now, though your thought brings in a doom that is not easily erased, I refuse to drop a tear. But, I am not cold grand pa, wherever you are, please know that, I love you the most. May be, love falls short, I respect you with all my heart and there is nothing I would not give to turn back the time to a few years back, if only to spend the last moments embracing you, or even touching you. May be, some day, when I can forgive myself, I shall bleed for you, but till then, please know that, you have imbibed in me the very principles that allow me to survive. Mom, Dad, Grand ma, had their share of wisdom to impart, but we shared something that none could understand, the love for books, the love for words, and above all, love for a promise. I will gladly walk to the mouth of death, if it means I can stick to my word and I am right. You taught me that.
I would say I miss you, but I don’t deserve that. Though I miss your presence, your memory is alive, fresh and inspiring.
Ever yours,
Your grand daughter.
Dearest Grandpa,
I love you, a lot. It might not have come out, especially in the flag end of your life, where your grandchildren were your only beacon of light. I have not filled in the role of being a grand daughter, thanks to my own guilt of being a constant disturbance. I cannot feel your void, though there is a choke in my voice and thought, when I think of you, for you are physically no more and you cannot materialize in front of me, particularly when I read a good book or achieved something in my life, however trivial it may be, to appreciate, acknowledge and later proudly share the information to friends and relatives.
I remember the small steps I took alongside you as a kid on your morning walks, waving happily to all your morning-walk friends. I remember the stories you told me every single day after your dinner and mine. I remember the small rides your chauffeur gave me when you came back from your office. I remember the numerous questions I asked on your stories and the enthusiasm with which you went about reciting another relic from our culture. I remember you talking about a story and asking me the moral and speaking of the values that the story spoke about. I did not realize then, but now, I am humbled by those times I spent with you, where you built in me the very core values I stand on today. I remember asking you to recite me the story about Lord Shiva, repeatedly and how you read to me every morning, in your sing-song voice and then explained the meaning to me. I remember sharing your food from your plate, watching the evening news and waiting for it to be over so that I can hear another interesting story. I remember the legend you were, rising from the lowest level to the highest, through sheer determination and the farewell you received from your colleagues, who respected you, looked up to you and the kind words, your superior and your mentor spoke about you. I remember you speaking about the importance a teacher holds in your life and preaching that a teacher is God and next only to mother. I remember the discussions I had with you on the other works of fiction and how we went on for hours from one topic to other without the knowledge of time.
But where was I grandpa, when you needed someone to make you happy? I am the only one who took after your voracious appetite for books and I am sure that the only peace of sanity you had were in speaking about them, speaking about a particularly interesting wording. I failed you, didn’t I? That was the reason I could not shed a tear. I deserved to shun my pain, for I have not lived to your expectations, letting you go cold when I could have helped you, as you have helped me, regain a footing in life, albeit for even a short duration. Even now, though your thought brings in a doom that is not easily erased, I refuse to drop a tear. But, I am not cold grand pa, wherever you are, please know that, I love you the most. May be, love falls short, I respect you with all my heart and there is nothing I would not give to turn back the time to a few years back, if only to spend the last moments embracing you, or even touching you. May be, some day, when I can forgive myself, I shall bleed for you, but till then, please know that, you have imbibed in me the very principles that allow me to survive. Mom, Dad, Grand ma, had their share of wisdom to impart, but we shared something that none could understand, the love for books, the love for words, and above all, love for a promise. I will gladly walk to the mouth of death, if it means I can stick to my word and I am right. You taught me that.
I would say I miss you, but I don’t deserve that. Though I miss your presence, your memory is alive, fresh and inspiring.
Ever yours,
Your grand daughter.
Apr 10, 2009
Sleepless night's restless banter
The power is off and I have no idea as to how I would even manage to wink without the rumbling of the fan. The insistent whistle of the pressure cooker from the neighbour’s house disturbs the peace of the night. The roar of the wind brings in a sense of timidity into the night that is seemingly long. I can hear someone washing their clothes, the whoosh of the scrubbing and the moans of the fibre and I wonder what warped sense of time to wash clothes, in the middle of the night, or rather at the break of the twilight. (SIGH!). Quiet peace at last, but alas, not a perfect silence! The seconds tick by, the keystrokes sing a symphony of their own, rhythmic and lethargic. The even breaths remind me of the time slipping as yet another sleepless night welcomes the inevitable bright, sunny day.
As a kid I was never afraid of monsters or beasts. Whispers of the moon lulled me to a dreamless sleep, while the night transforms to day, I gain a day’s wisdom. Days to months to years to coming up of age and finally here, the journey onward and testing. If there was anything that stopped me in the tracks was a sense of disappointment and resentment, from within me. The retrospection judgemental and ruthless, but somehow fulfilling and the inner fire soaring high. I am a little disappointed in myself and somehow I am cracking my head with a reproach hammer, though it seemingly has no affect. Zillions of thoughts are running through me, the usual, about work, about life, about past, about present and about future. All in all, a concoction that drives away the sanity of night. “Miles to go before I sleep”… literally! And dreams seem to be the only way I can reach beyond these thoughts. So, here I sit, conceiving a dream of sheer revelation with absolutely impossible chance of fulfilment, but then, I don’t care. I can dream, futile or otherwise, certain dreams leave a remarkable impression that gives me the will to steel my resolve.
Into my dreamland... trespassers will be sued.
As a kid I was never afraid of monsters or beasts. Whispers of the moon lulled me to a dreamless sleep, while the night transforms to day, I gain a day’s wisdom. Days to months to years to coming up of age and finally here, the journey onward and testing. If there was anything that stopped me in the tracks was a sense of disappointment and resentment, from within me. The retrospection judgemental and ruthless, but somehow fulfilling and the inner fire soaring high. I am a little disappointed in myself and somehow I am cracking my head with a reproach hammer, though it seemingly has no affect. Zillions of thoughts are running through me, the usual, about work, about life, about past, about present and about future. All in all, a concoction that drives away the sanity of night. “Miles to go before I sleep”… literally! And dreams seem to be the only way I can reach beyond these thoughts. So, here I sit, conceiving a dream of sheer revelation with absolutely impossible chance of fulfilment, but then, I don’t care. I can dream, futile or otherwise, certain dreams leave a remarkable impression that gives me the will to steel my resolve.
Into my dreamland... trespassers will be sued.
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