Mumbai sucks...that's what a friend tells me...and why!

There is something about the Delhi versus Mumbai rivalry, something special, that words can just not describe. Closer home, it is very similar to the TSEC versus DJ Sanghavi one, aah, but I will let this analogy go. People who are from these two colleges, would know what I am talking about. Let me put it like this, if a blind test was conducted, on a person, without informing him of the city names, he would come close to replying, "These seem to be almost two different countries..." The criticism that some times flows both way, is almost akin to a one way, one street road seeing heavy traffic from both ends.

Today, was another such case in point, when I met a friend's friend.

Needless to say, she was from Delhi, and on a first long stint in Mumbai. Has been already here for around a month. And very very opinionated. I joined in the fun. As a mere spectator.

Not for me to get very defensive about this city.

"I dislike this place, just cannot associate with my room mates."

So, Mumbai = Room mates. Ok, so if the room mates were from Bangalore or Guwahati or Bhopal, you would dislike those cities as well?

It does not end here.

I ask her, "Where in Mumbai are your room mates from?"

"Where did I say that the roomies were from Mumbai, they are from Amravati."

Alrite. My mistake. Earlier I thought it was Mumbai = roomies, now I need to tweak the equation a little.

Mumbai = Amravati. This is Amravati

I have a smile within. Externally, I profess ignorance, "But Amravati is miles away from Mumbai?"

"So? The people in both the regions speak the same language."

The lady has a point. She likes Delhi over Mumbai, because, she stays in Mumbai with room mates, who are from Amravati, that consists of people who speak the same language as the people in Mumbai.

I agreed. She had a very valid issue there, to prefer Delhi over Mumbai.

We move on.

"So, what else?" I probe further.

"I don't like the boys of Mumbai. They are too irresponsible."

Man, I thought. I also thought, "Bandi may dum hai." Sitting with a hard core Mumbai guy, she actually said that. I love her. Love at first sights probably. Like women who stand for themselves and exhibit so much conviction. Just love her. Bye bye Peeya.

"Why do you think they are irresponsible?"

"That is the feeling I get when I talk to the two guys from my batch."

"Two? Why only two?"

"Because I don't talk to others"

"And why is that?"

"Miss Delhi too much"

I still love you Peeya, please take me back, I say please.

Third lesson of the day. Two guys = Mumbai as a whole. Surely hasn't heard of an optimum sample size. Not her fault, it is me who's in the process of getting an MBA done.

No but wait, it also means, that the guys of Mumbai are irresponsible, because the lady gets a feeling that two guys of her batch, are probably irresponsible in the one month of knowing them.
Do I dare to ask her where the guys are from, Mumbai or Latur?

I decide against it.

I can almost guess what her answer would be.

"And what about Delhi. What is good about it? As in, I know it is good, but what are your favourites?"

"The guys are so responsible"

I had almost forgotten. Next, I ask.

"The people just do not bother."

I feel tempted to put in a spanner in this statement. Unlike in Delhi, where the only thing people do is to bother.

Bother You.

Behind your back.

As is my wont, I don't. Nice rhyme there.

Another chapter in the Mumbai-Delhi war.

Just hope she does not read this one.

A Day is made

I had a date. Err well, it could be termed as a laptop-returning-date, i.e. the date on which I had to return back my friend's laptop.

I got out of my house. She called up. To cancel it.

Or rather to extend the date.

I tok a U-turn, got back to my building. Saw some guys playing cricket.

Joined them. For twenty odd minutes. Then they stopped playing, too dark and all.

And what did I get for my "efforts". No jelly beans. Just a Bloody knee cap. A swollen ankle.

And a lots of satisfaction. Loads of it.

Even as I type this, my fingers smell of Dettol. And of some other cream that I used for the ankle. Don't quite remember the name. It smells alrite.

But now...Now the ankle hurts a lot. An obvious limp has emerged as the soreness has grown exponentially.

I am still very satisfied, just twenty minutes made my day today.

Made it big time.

P.S. Don't ask me my score, conveniently forgotten :-)

Murphy...oh Murphy!

Murphy: I tol' ya so. Didn't I?

Me: I thought that was fiction.

Mu: My Laws ain't fiction mate.

Me (grimace on face): Yeah, I know now. Anyways, I could NOT have done anything to prevent it.

Mu: That is what you think! Anyways, you became the 4,26,55,812th man on earth to prove the law, if that makes you feel better.

Me: And women? How many women have proved this law?

Mu: You pulling my leg eh?

Me: You still have't answered my question? How many women? And to which demographics do they belong to?

Mu: Huh?

Me: Can we actually end up doing a factor analysis on the men and women that we get to find the factors that cause people to get you right? Probably, once that is done, we could also use cluster analysis to segment the market into various portions? Say, people who have proved the law and are fuming right now, people who proved it and want to murder it's maker, people who have proved it and are thanking their stars to scrape through...You know, the basics.

Mu: But....you....huh?

Me: See, once that is done, and we also have a profile of all the people, we could use Discriminant Analysis to decide whether such an occurence could happen to someone new, say my dog wants to try to prove the law, what are his chances? Do we have the data though?

Mu:...............

Me: Murphy? Mr. Murphy? You there?

Mr. Murphy seems surprisingly quiet now. He seems to be pondering. No more 'I-am-the-professor-you-the-student' air about him. Maybe now, he would change his preachings. Or maybe not. Who knows.

For now, he has shut up.

Better, for me.

After the last 3 days, I have had two options. One was to shoot the man. I have taken the other option, begun to respect Mr. Murphy more, from the bottom of my heart. I hate his laws though. Bottom of my heart again. Especially when I am at the butt of it's implications.

run

it is three in the night. deathly silence.

he is alone. people have long gone.

many years back. or was it months.

he has no idea.

now he is all by himself. and there are memories. to nurse him.

and that has put paid to any chance of sleep as well.

his sleep.

the milk's on the gas. a hot glass won't do any harm. or will it.

he looks in the mirror. when was the last time he saw his true self.

months.

he does not even remember his original face. those million surgeries, those countless, painful after effects. those scars. the mental ones.

his thoughts are interuppted by a noise. have they found him?

the milk's overboiled. overflowed. a kitten's lapping it away.

kit's soon still. gone. kaput. traversed to the world beyond.

he gets the answer to his previous question.

he is not alone after all.

Help :-(

The inevitable has happened. I am doomed. Dead.

24th September is, will be the saddest day of my life. I cannot just get over it. Why would someone do this to me? This is cruel. Very very cruel.

Consumer Protection court? Does it have any such case registered before?

Exams on National Holiday? Damn.

And there are three papers that day, 11-1, 3-5 and 6-8. I had to have one at 6.
Match time: 5.30 onwards.

And yeah, while I would be mourning my exam, let me also tell the uninitiated, it is an India-Pakistan final that people would watch. An India-Pakistan WC final, the last that could have happened in 1987, but did not. And if Halley's comet is any indication to go by, I do not see the next one happen any time soon.

And today, when it actually would, I would not be a total part of it. A friend asked me some moments back (and I quote verbatim): "tere bacche tere se kuchh saal baad pochenge toh kya kahega...match ke waqt exam de raha tha?"

(What will you answer your kids some years later, you were writing an exam?)

I gave a very unlike-me, unmentionable-here, sort of a reply. But, it deserves worse.

Am depressed. Need an anti-depressant.
Am sad. Need a shoulder.
Am angry. Need a punching bag.

And apart from all this I also need to know who set the time table. Damn.

Damn. Damn. It feels a little better to say it.

Damn.

There is one hope (against hope!) though. Or wishful thinking.
Match gets postponed by a couple of hours due to rain. Now that would be a delicious thought.

Won't it?

How to get THE ticket?

Wankhede hosts the seventh ODI between India and Australia on 17th October.

Some have approached me on the ways to get hold of a ticket or two. One even had the audacity to ask whether I could arrange for 10 tickets for him. Well...I asked him whether I could get the role in the next Mission Impossible movie.

Anyways, here is where I explain how to get tickets for such matches.

In the end, I wish the thing was as simple as knowing the process.

But let me attempt it anyways.

1. Get to Wankhede 3 days before the match (or whenever they say they will start selling tkts), the window opens at 9.30 am. Make sure you reach there by 9.30.

P.M.

The previous day.

Else, forget it. Make sure, that you got some good litres of water, do-waqt ki roti, and some real hard cash. You dont want to stand in the queue for 12 hours, and then have a hundred less, ain't it?

2. Stand around from the time they start selling the tkts. Don't look too much like a policeman in plain clothes. Catch hold of a tout. You may (MAY) just get a 500 Rs. ticket for 1500. Also remember, the later u go, the costlier the ticket gets. The early bird gets the worm...for around 1500 bucks. Exponential rise in tickets, especially if it is India-Australia.

3. Get hold of a contact, who's contact would give u a ticket. Last India-SA match (that Dravid won for us), I got hold of a ticket from Ramakant Achrekar (yeah, Tendulkar's coach), and I got the ticket for 2000 bucks. A tkt worth 750 bucks for 2000.

4. Pray. Pray that India trails 6-0 in the series, someone may just be too pessimistic to get inside. And then hope that that someone remembers you enough to 'sell' the ticket to u. Let me tell u, for an India Bangladesh match, held in the humid month of May, when Bangladesh had got out for less than 150, and Tendulkar got out early, people left the stadium, and still managed to sell the tickets for the actual Cost Price. So...dont bank too much on this way of going about it. But pray nevertheless. Praying, I heard is thereuptic as well.

5. Abduct someone who claims he/she's got a ticket or two. In fact abduct his/her gf/bf. Make sure, you are able to "extradite"(whatever that means) the ticket out of him/her. Apologise later, saying you heard it was Tendulkar's Last ODI and you are his biggest fan.

Any other methods, please let me know. Better still if you get a ticket, spare one for me. Make that two, I don't mind.

Exams? Mai kissi exams ko nahi jaanta!

A question that I have been asking myself day-in-day-out: Am I actually in the middle of examinations? It is just a couple of hours left for my next paper.

Picture this. I have an exam at 6 in the evening, that gets over at 8. The next one is next day, afternoon. Essentially, I have around 18 hours between the two papers. To open the...err...don't even have books. Need to first get the presentations from people. So, 18 hours to do all that.

And what do I do?

Go dining with a friend post the first paper. Get back home dot at 9.30 to watch India thrash the living daylights out of South Africa, that incidentally gets over at 2. In the night, or morning, which ever way you look at it.

Studies are something in mind for the next day's paper, but they remain there, in the mind.

Hit the sack.

Wake up at 9.30. Time's running out, have to open my first ppt.

I do not do that till about 11. By this time, I know there is no use doing that. Studying I mean.

I shut it as soon as I had opened it. Onto icicidirect.com and isport.in.

I get the anwer to my question. Yawnn. Guess I should doze off for an hour.

Wish 'koi meri proxy maar sakta'.

Well said sir...!

Harsha Bhogale: When you look into your camp, you may see your players a little scared, but you got to budget for the fear in the oppositions' camp.

Well said Mr. Bhogale. Agree totally. Works in every walk of life.

One may be down and out, or nervous and upset, there are others who are worse off.

Account for that.

An open letter to Flintoff.

Dear Freddie Flintoff/Fredalo/Andrew,

It was alrite that you said a word or two. Seems petty enough. Probably not.

Either ways, Yuvi's not going to take that lying down.

You forgot Freddie, when in the heat and humidity of Mumbai, you had stripped yourself of ur tee, some one else had not enjoyed the luxury of watching your show too much. He had stripped back at the Mecca, and you could do nothing. Lap Dance at a club in South Africa seems a much better bet. Ask your skipper.

"I made a mistake, that's what it comes down to. The friends that I was with were not massively close friends, to be honest, and they took me to the bar. I realise it was inappropriate and I'm disappointed with myself."

Anyways, so why would Yuvi take s***? And then like a Primary School kid, you rushed off to your fielding position, and let the umpire take control. Just like a Primary Kid as I said, pinches the neighbour and complains to the Headmaster against him. And then runs off. How could you do that?

A certain Gabbar would have said, iski sazaa milegi, barabar milegi.

There was no Gabbar obviously, but you forgot, there was Yuvi. A fired up Yuvi, who had also lost out in a recent race. A race he seemed to be almost leading till recently, when Dhoni pipped him at the post.

So much pent up anger. It had to come out some place, on some one. And, you were a catalyst. A quick check in the Thesaurus reveals that catalysts are substances that participate in reactions but are neither reactants nor products of the reaction they catalyze. You got nothing out of it, nor did you lose anything.

Your team did.

You could have gone upto Yuvi and apologized after the third six. That is like 18 runs still to be made, and you lost the match by 18 runs. Well, England did anyways. You could have saved your team.

You chose to chew your gum instead. And grin, like a school brat sucking on a lollypop. Actually lollypops may just be better for you than getting involved with alcohol yet again. Lest, instead of drowning your sorrows, you end up drowning yourself. Like you almost did some months back. Remember? Hope you do, because, that time, the same was done to you, what you had done to yourself on that sultry Mumbai evening. Stripped. You were stripped of all decision making rights.

And talking of decisions, I wonder who made the decision of playing you in this dead rubber. Despite your injuries. Thought you were being brave eh? A High School phrase said that Discretion is a better part of valor. Didn’t you learn that? Or for that matter, did you learn your tables? History? I am sure you did not. Because had you done it, you would have known that Hitler suffered from a bad tooth ache and still ended up waging a war. And, like you did today, he lost. Miserably.

It’s time you learnt Freddie. Any ways, it does not matter if you don’t. I still love your freckles. And the way you hold your bat. And the way you smile despite all what is going around you. Despite not realizing that Ashes 2005 is already two years old, it is gone. Ashes 2006-07 has also come and gone and you lost, err, your team lost 5-0. They kicked ass. Yours. But no, I still like you. You got a strong one. Ass. You are the best all rounders amongst those who are injured. Serious.

And yeah, if you didn’t notice, your country was the first to introduce Twenty20, were favourites and all. You lost all your matches in the second round. Stop removing your shirt or writing silly stuff that you write in your book about others, and other countries. Because, if bullet pellets do hit you sometime (as you so proudly proclaim could have), you would not be brave enough to take field. School’s over, it is time you graduated. To a more matured adult.

But I still like you. At least you are better than Joginder Sharma, who can neither bowl nor bat, but is there in the team. You at least talk. He felt so awe-stuck today, that even a guy-in-new-love would have felt ashamed. At least you don’t. Or at least I hope you don’t.

Ganesh Chaturthi's being celebrated across India. I will pray for you. Because I like you. Surely. Or at least I think I do.

'Faithfully' Yours,
Me.

P.S. I was one those few lucky souls who saw you strip and play 'catch-me-if-you-can' with your team mates in Wankhede. I really wished I could join them. I would have caught up easily. Or at least I think I would have.

The same letter is also posted at iSport's website.
You can also find the rest of the posts there.

Too much!

Bloody Bull I say!

Some bull this is, raging and waging a war against the bear. Freeing itself out of some of it's inhibitions at the back of a steroid-pumping exercise.

Working hard.

Partying hard-ly!

Touching new highs.

Bringing a smile on the faces of it's masters.

Bloody Bull! Way to go!

Some day yesterday!

It was supposed to be a quite little day, yesterday. Food and 'attempt-at-studies'. And more of the second alternative.

Then I get a call, asking me to brace myself to be a part of a CNBC show.

I refuse. Two reasons.

a. Exam tomorrow, and I was supposed to report to their studio.

b. I have not had a hair cut in days. Probably months. And I was going to come on TV. And they dont allow caps.

Dreams out of the window. Dreams to those 1o seconds of fame. Dreams to meet Mitali. Dreams to shake hands with Tanveer. Dreams to dream further.

Then I get another call. More precisely, a mail. A mail which, under reel-like life conditions would have been epoch setting. I call up the person-in-question. Person reiterates the potential offer. I cannot even go on writing this, life may change if I accept it.

I refuse. No reasons. It hurts. Ouch I say.

Third one. Meet a friend online. Congrats she says. I ask why.

She gives me the reason. I want to reject this as well. I will. When the time comes.

Loads of reasons. None that I can mention here. Family Blog and all that. Naah, not really, just too bored.

3 Offers made in a day. 3 offers rejected in a day.

And they say "Beggars cannot be chosers"

A Link to Dravid's Captaincy

So, the inevitable has happened. Rahul Dravid has decided to drop in his pink slip, thus causing a minor tremor of sorts in Indian Cricket.

Around ten days ago, I had written an assessment of Dravid's captaincy, and wished he improved in tactics. I had also pointed out on how his captaincy seems to be affecting his Test Batting form.

Here is the link to that one: Rahul Dravid's Captaincy

Do leave your comments and reviews on what you think about the same. And let me know who you expect next in line as the captain.

Uncle Sam asks...

Intricate, thoughtful Question (courtsey Sameer aka Sam, in his exact words): WHY do u need a damned wicketkeeper for a f*****g Bowl-Out ?(we are talking twenty20 here)

Irrational, unnecessary answer - I: Because, wicket keepers traditionally remain behind the wickets and not in front of it.

Irrational, unnecessary answer - II: Because, wicketkeepers' role is not to 'keep' the wickets at home, but something else.

Irrational, unnecessary answer - III: So that the ball does not get lost. Because if the ball does not hit the stumps, it would go away to the boundary, who would fetch it? If you remember, dogs are not allowed inside the playing arena.

Irrational, unnecessary answer - IV: Because one cannot expect the umpire or the match refree in their tie and shirts to remain behind the wickets.

Irrational, unnecessary answer - V: Stupid question, next you would ask, why do we need green grass for the field, why can't we play on hay or concrete or even glass? Or why is it called lambda and not Sam-bda? Or why does Rakhee Sawant behave the way she does? Or why does Britney Spears not appear in K-serials instead. Is there an end to the questions? It's better that you get out of that "Tell Me Why"? mode. Grow up.

Any other answers are welcome.

the end

the end was near, unknown to the exact minute, but near, all the same.

some things had lost perspective. most had.

so had people. people who detested, some who did not.

people whom he loathed. others that he did not.

it did not matter any more. it never should have in the first place.

now it had all become clear. it was all chugging to a stop.

soon. very soon.

one last time he wanted to embrace everyone. hug 'em tight.

he knew he would not. he could not.

the clock ticked away.

he wished it would stop. the clock.

the clock just ticked away.

Long time, no see!

It has been quite some time since I wrote here, and very frankly, had no inclination to do so tonight either. For that matter, am racing against time too (and it is lots more fun that ways). But a classmate reminded me of how she gets updates on my life from my blog, and so, could not help but take a peep here. The last fortnight or so, after the Chandigarh soujorn that is, has been pretty eventful, and that is stating the least. The obvious.

For a change, cricket has hogged the limelight, and I say 'for a change' because, it has been some time since that happened. And for a change, because, it has not been normal cricket viewing, it has been something 'beyond'. It has been exciting, and it...Oh well, more of it when it actually works out. Watch this space, and if not this, then get to http://www.isport.in/ to watch more!(that's promoting both my blog and the website I write for! Marketing gyaan aint going waste!)

Apart from that, it is that time of the trimester, when the grey cells have suddenly to be used. To tell the hands and the eyes to co-ordinate to copy and paste data for the presentations that need to be made! And then one's got the exams overhead. Which ain't a problem by itself, but then it also means that one needs to open those books which one hasn't for a long time.

Which means that one needs to buy the books that need to be opened after a long time.

Which basically means a waste of time, money and energy. Yawnnn!

On personal front, it has been very relaxed and chilled out. The few ghosts of yesterday have vanished (yesterday boley toh, the past, nothing happened yesterday), into the thin air. And even when a couple of them make their presence felt, it is as easy as swatting flies, to get rid of them. The ghosts I mean. These ghosts are more of the Ramsay-made kinds, rather than Exorcist. Funny ones. Try to scare you, but one cannot help smile at 'em. Unfortunately, they ain't Casper like.

Now I am going round and round!

And yes, the last couple of days, I have experienced two different instances of very not-so-adultish behaviours from a couple of people. In fact, very surprisingly and coincidentally, both the people are totally unrelated to each other, and both have done things that I remember doing when I was eight. Yes, I actually did such stuff at that age, but now? Funny that I actually remembered what I had done then, in comparison with this.

God, give me a break, surely you exist!

And yeah, here is one pic that I wanted to put up, a bright, blood red coloured cap, first of it's kind that I own! Hope it does not follow the previous 'good' ones I had!




P.S. I like the contrast between the shirt and the cap, what more should I do to get into Bollywood maaan!

Writing for a new website...

Hey guys,

I have started writing on cricket for a website www.isport.in

Please get there, and start reading and commenting on the same. Now, for people who do not enjoy cricket too much, do give me feedback on the style of writing and all.

For people who do enjoy cricket, do let me know what you think of the same.

And yeah, as expected, I would be writing on only Cricket!

Some of them are http://isport.in/content/view/55/57/ and http://isport.in/content/view/66/57/

Last but not the least, I would continue writing with the non-cricketing stuff on this blog!

...and the realization dawns upon me

It is on days like these, when the diamonds get separated from the rest.

There are only those many true pearls, the rest of 'em are fake.

Unfortunately, one ends up taking them to be replacements for the real ones.

It is on days like these, when I repent being a bad judge of people, repent the bloody waste of time.

It is one days like these when any self doubts about the strong-headed decisions taken by me, vanish.

An amazing day, beyond words, would never be able to do justice with my limited vocabulary. So, I will not even try.

Pictures tell a thousand stories. These do not even say ten.



Only wish the rest were there as well.