CB Series 2012: Match 7 - AusVInd

I couldn't sleep on Saturday. I dreamt of cricket, the stadium and cheering all night. I woke up in the morning, anxious about how the day would play out. It was an important match for us. A win would drive our stake firmly into the ground. A loss would make the last couple of wins disappear. 

The day really started when I got on that bus to the city, filled with people in blue team jerseys and paint on their faces. I could barely wait to reach the shuttle and when I did, I found myself furiously texting my friend asking if she could get there any sooner. We strolled around a bit, checking out tents, taking random pictures and finally joined the lines at the gates to arrive at our seats in time for the first ball.

The numbers were much bigger than I expected. Unlike at the MCG, there were as many, if not more, Aussie fans as there were Indians. From caps, bandannas, jerseys to costumes, there was blue, green and yellow all around me. I felt like a seven year old at an annual fair. I could not contain my excitement as V pointed out the various cartoon characters to me. By the time we got in, Australia had won the toss and decided to bat. We decided to find our seats first, and come back for the beer later. Once we got to our seats, on a top row, bang in the middle of two aisles, we were kicking ourselves for not buying the beer first. 

The weather was perfect for cricket and both teams were fighting for their place on the board. It was going to be a great game!

When Australia and India play, it does not matter who wins the toss. India always choses to chase while the Aussies like to start with their bats. It works well for both teams.  

The first few overs were great for the Indians. We managed to restrict the runs. Wade was scoring a run here and a run there, struggling to get any big ones. When Warner got to bat, he flung the ball around a bit. The Indians seemed unfazed but we needed his wicket sooner than later. I sat there, willing someone to get Warner. Soon enough Zaheer Khan claimed Warner, with a catch from Sachin Tendulkar. It was perfect. Ricky Ponting came in next and couldn't do much for his team. After a few lame attempts to score runs, he was sent back to the pavilion. 

Next to arrive was Forrest. He is a big guy. There was no doubt he was going to get a boundary or two before long. Wade was still failing to do much. A little while later, Wade was put out of his misery and Mike Hussey walked in. The Hussey-Forrest partnership did well for the Aussies. After they had been on the field together for about an hour, the scoreboard was not looking great for India. We badly needed a wicket. It didn't matter which one but the partnership had to be broken. 

Suddenly, there was a loud appeal and Mike Hussey was out. Or was he? The umpires weren't sure either, so the third umpire was called upon. A couple of replays didn't really tell us what the result would be. So, we waited. A big red OUT appeared on the screen and Mike Hussey started to walk towards the pavilion. The Indian audience at the stadium screamed with joy. The cheering went on non-stop till we saw one of the ground umpires running towards Hussey. We saw Hussey walk back. Something wasn't right. Then, the big screen said NOT OUT in bright green. The Aussie crowd went crazy. Not surprisingly, they yelled louder than the Indians just had. Nobody knew what was going on. We saw Dhoni speaking with the umpires. Somebody joked that the third umpire must have hit the wrong button. Whatever had happened, Dhoni's men had to concede that it was not out.

The match resumed. A couple of balls later, it was announced at the stadium that the third umpire had indeed hit the wrong button. How hilarious! Someone on Facebook quoted Ravi Shastry as saying that the man had one job to do all day, which was to hit the button and he gets the wrong one! 

The Indians were unfettered. Pathan came in and within the next few minutes took both wickets - Hussey and Forrest. He was the hero in the Indian army at that moment. The rest of the match played out pretty well. The Indians tried their best to restrict the Aussies and the latters trying their best to up the score. At the 45th over, the scoreboard looked like either team could take this match away. Then, the last two overs happened. Those few minutes tilted the game entirely in the direction of the Aussies. Dan Christian and David Hussey sent the balls flying, into fours and sixes. The target score for the defending team was beyond reach by the time they were finished. The difficult score was 250 but at 280, the Aussies looked damn good right then.

The second half of the session didn't offer much entertainment. The top order batsmen in the Indian team didn't wait to settle in. Trying to score some big ones right from the word go, they fell like a pack of cards, leaving Dhoni to score the entire 200 runs by himself. He did his best to keep his cool and bridge the gap. It was only a matter of time before he knew that he had to unleash his energy and start going for the big ones. One of those shots turned unlucky for him and he was gone. When that happened, the Aussies had pretty much won the match. The lower order batsmen took a few fours and ran between the wickets as best as they could. There was only so much they could do. The gap got wider and wider till it cracked. India lost the match without even a total of 200. 

There is no doubt the better team had won. It was another disgraceful defeat for India. Another battle lost without putting up a fight. Now, with Dhoni banned from the next ODI, what will happen to the India's place on the Points Table? Will we make it to the finals?

Chapter 6: A Short Detour

I forgot to mention that I brought the food tray down, to use as a table, to write. This was one of those thoughts that slipped past me, as new came tumbling through. It has revisited me now and I can write about it. I am a little worried that while I do that, there will be more ideas that will disappear before I can catch them. I am going to have to let them pass. What I do not know won't hurt me. Right? 

I had the book on my lap and my sheets on the book. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her pull down the food tray from the seat in front of her and use that as a table. I kicked myself gently for not thinking of that earlier. Heck, I have too many things going on in my head to come up with ideas of my own. Anyway, I could not pull the tray down right then, lest she find out that I have been watching her. To save my pride, I forced myself to keep writing on my lap. 

I can not take it any longer. Down comes my tray. Wow. This is comfortable! Except, I should have taken out another fresh sheet of paper from my bag before I did this. I am pretty sure that I would have thought of using the tray as a table and getting all my sheets in order, if I was not so busy multi-tasking. I am observing her, trying to find out more about her, writing about her, looking out the window and watching the scenery change, writing about that, trying to ignore the pain developing in my fingers and moving up to my elbows. Being a writer is not easy, no matter what you are writing. Enough with fighting with myself. Moving on. 

I am thinking the words aloud in my mind and that is slowing me down too. I tried writing faster once or twice but my fingers fly about, making marks on paper which I am quite confident I will not be able to read later. I need to write legibly or this whole exercise will have been in vain. The nagging thought in my head is whether she has noticed that I am writing and whether she is on to the fact that she is the protagonist in this hour of my life. She probably has noticed and surely has no idea about her involvement. Imagine if I had one of my clumsy moments and one of my sheets landed in her lap! She would casually glance at what I am writing and, if I am unlucky enough, make out a sentence or two that I have written about her. That would be embarrassing and hilarious? I feel like laughing out aloud but I can't. 

Gosh, it is amazing how different it is to write than to type. The handwriting, the speed, the fingers hurting because I grip too hard, the pencil lead running out, etc. Not to mention, no smiley faces!

It is still blazing hot outside. It will be 9:30PM when I arrive in Melbourne. They are an hour ahead of Brisbane. The T20 match will be over. I wonder if we won this one at least. I am almost loathe to check. I know I will. I can't resist. I am not expecting us to win this one, given the way we have been playing recently but it will be welcome. Like an oasis in a desert. 

What is with all the desert references today? 

I may not have written in a while but I find that I remember most of the rules my teachers taught me in school. This is a pleasant surprise. The tab before a new para, the double arrowhead for 2 words inserts, that my teachers discouraged in essays but said I could use in casual letters to my friends. I took advantage of that alright. Letters I wrote to my friends, during school holidays, would be filled with arrows and asterisks. Every inch of the "inland letter" would be crammed. I had eventually moved on to writing in paper and stuffing them into envelopes, so I had more space for my news. The inland letters were reserved for short code messages. I always have so much to say. My thoughts would fly quickly, old ones pushing the new ones out of my mind and I had to write fast enough to be able to catch them all as they made their way past the window of my mind's eye. That is exactly the same thing happening to me now!

I keep forgetting that I am writing with a pencil and I can erase. Another of my habits my teachers absolutely hated and I could not stop myself from doing, was 'scratching and rewriting'. I am doing that now, even though I could just as easily erase and write over. I do not think I am going to bother much with that, anyway. It is easier to scratch and move on, at this speed. I am not being marked for this essay. It does not matter whether I score out words or I overwrite them.

Scaling New Heights

All of you who have fear of heights, please raise your hands. Since you cannot see me, let me tell you that my  hand is raised. It used to be worse before. I used to feel mortified at great heights. 

As part of various life experiences, I ended up in various places where the view from atop was breathtaking. I am a sucker for "views", so much so that when booking my flights I always want a window seat on the side that the flight enters the airport so I can see what it looks like down there, from up, in the aircraft. It was impossible to refuse getting to the top of places that held such awesome views. That was the first hurdle I crossed. I did not mind heights anymore. Only as long as I was within an enclosed glass tower (e.g. Eureka Towers in Melbourne) or on top of a hill (say, Mt. Coot-tha in Brisbane), where I knew I was safe. 

When I planned a trip to Sydney, a friend of mine insisted that I do the famous Bridge Climb. At the time, I was not aware of what it entailed and I let him convince me to go for it. Once I saw the bridge & suited up, it started to hit me that I might not be able to do it. As the group started the climb upwards, I felt less and less confident of being able to do it. At one point, my heart was in my mouth and I found myself thinking, "Karl was right in not doing this. One could just die from the fear". Once the moment had passed, I started to enjoy it immensely. The view all along was stunning. Watching the sunset from where we were, watching the city lights come on one by one and feeling the wind on the face made me forget that I feared heights. Since then, I've recommended the climb to everyone I've met and even managed to convince the afore-mentioned Karl to try it.

Chris Rawlinson gave me the first taste of rock-climbing when a group of 3 boys & 2 girls went to Mt.  Beerwah one weekend. I must have done less than 10m when the rocks, slippery from the light drizzle, started to alarm me. I looked down to tell Chris that I might not make it to the top and froze when I realized what a fall could do to me, from where I was. No harness, no guides, no safety measures here. Pure nature. The mountain, the hard rocks and the naked climb. Fortunately, experienced as he was, Chris guided me down the mountain. Later, watching the guys run up & back down like mountain goats, I felt a bit sheepish... I had barely done a small percentage of the climb they covered. Someday I would try this again, I decided. 

This morning, Sarat & I arrived at the Riverlife office at Kangaroo Point at 8.10AM, for a session of rock-climbing. Having done a few metres on a real mountain and considering the fact that there was an experienced guide to watch us over, I was confident I would be alright. However, that was not to be. Firstly, this was more real than I realized! This was a cliff with real rocks, just like the mountains, but worse in that it was an almost 90 degree incline. I barely made it 5m when I simply could not do anymore and had to be let down. Having a rope around my waist and a partner belaying was absolutely no help to my confidence. I could not get enough hand-holds and my shoes kept slipping. I hated it but I knew I had to give up. Standing stuck on a narrow foothold forever was not helping.

Then it was the turn of Kendra, a tourist from California, who had done some rock-climbing at an indoor gym. She had some initial trouble at the exact location that I had been stuck at but she managed to pull it off and make it to the top. Bravo! In his turn, Sarat scaled a little higher than I had but soon gave up too. I decided to give it another shot. Scrambled up, got stuck at the exact same location. The rock that I was trying to wrap my right leg and hand around was too broad for my height and I absolutely could not hoist myself up. I yelled down to Blair, our guide, that I needed a bit of help lifting up. With a little help from the belay, I conquered it and then there was no stopping anymore. I made it all the way up, just one rock short of the peak. Too excited to have gone that far, I did not even bother to attempt to go to the top, I yelled out to be brought down. I think, just knowing how I could get down using rope if I need to, with the help of the belay, had kept me going. 

I also noticed that once I gained a little more confidence, the hand-holds and foot-holds did not matter that much. As long as I was able to grip the rock for even a few seconds with my palms and shoes, I had the courage to move the body. Getting over that inhibition was the big deal. It felt good. We had paid for 2 hours of rock-climbing, so Blair asked us if we wanted to try the same climb again or another one. Sarat was done in, thanks to all the cricket from the previous day. It was scary business too, rock climbing for first timers. Kendra & I decided to try another climb, a different one. 

I let Kendra go first so I could get a mental picture of the landscape of the rock and also watch her movements. I was still a novice, I was not going to kid myself. The initial bit was hard because the rock seemed pretty smooth but she made it to the top fairly quickly. Then, it was my turn. I slipped about 4 times before I could finally start making progress. Blair offered to help with the first bit but I refused. I was sure I could do it. I took a deep breath and told myself I should not try to hurry. Go slow, go easy, this can be done. Within seconds, I was scrambling up more comfortably. There was again, another particularly uncomfortable rock but by now my body and mind co-operated better. Fear had taken a break. I gingerly placed both feet on the best foothold I could get and put both my hands on a single rock that jutted out, right above my head. I put my head down and hoisted myself up. Once that was done, the rest just happened.

One rock after another, I kept going. It felt great. I did not even believe anymore that I could not do it. I just knew that I could. I hesitated a bit at one point where a tiny stream of water wetted the rocks. I was going to look for an alternative when Kendra called out to not let the water deter me. So, I grabbed a dry part of one of the wet rocks and went on. It was a pleasure to find a flat surface at the top, where I could walk with both feet. After sticking my feet in crevices and balancing on my toes on small foot-holds, this was a great break. I wondered if I should stop because I had come up this far, it did not make a difference whether I made it to the top or not. Kendra yelled out and said to go for it. I remembered how I had not made the peak on the previous climb. I decided I was going to do this one right. So I did. 

When I looked down, my heart skipped a beat. I did not look down for long but I allowed myself another peek. I sucked in a deep breath and turned around, in preparation to get down. I called out to the belay to loosen the rope and let me down. It was exhilarating. I was right there, balancing on small foot-holds, grabbing on to bits of hard rock and looking down... feeling excitement rather than fear. I wish I had taken a moment to enjoy the view around me but that might have been a bit much to ask of a first-timer. 

I might do it again. I might do a naked climb on a real mountain or I might not. I do not know. What I do know is that I am grateful for my inane need to try everything in life and for that streak in me that would rather face the fear headlong than give up.

Not My Cup Of Tee

There are times in life when you suddenly decide you need a change. I have times like that all the time. So, last week I decided that I needed to pick up a sport. This was in addition to plans to learn a new language, join Zumba classes, cover all the Theme Parks in the next few free weekends (do not see one in sight for another few but I'm sure there will be one), preparing for my Martial Arts grading, etc. 

It must be easy enough to pick a sport, right? You like something, you find a play area and go for it. Yeah, right! Not in my life! After much thought, golf won the day. Next thing was to find out where I could get a few lessons. There is a little voice in my head that is screaming, "Do you know how expensive golf is? And lessons? Are you out of your mind? Did you win a lottery or something?". I tried hard to ignore it and almost succeeded. But you know how life is a bitch and all that? We had a day out at work and guess where we went? Victoria Golf Club. I decided it was Fate. I was meant to play golf. "Yeah sure, why not"

We headed to the driving range first. Suffice to say that at the end of an hour and half, I had managed to touch the 100 mark a couple of times, the 75 mark a few times and try as I might, I could not make the smiley at 150. It stood there, a large smiley face, eluding me like the times in school when everyone gets a smiley for their homework and you grow old waiting. Two buckets of balls later, it was time for Putt Putt Golf. 

You might think (if you are a non-golfer like me, you would) that the driving range was a practice session for the real golf (er... Putt Putt Golf). I arrived at the location, brimming with confidence. I knew how to hold the driver and I could swing now. Well, better than the start of the day, right?

Surprise!!! These clubs looked nothing like the ones I had just practised with! Apparently, those were drivers, these are putters. Well, they were shorter than the earlier ones and hence might be easier to handle. That is what I thought, anyway. First things first. How do I hold this one? Fortunately for me, a friend was kind enough to show me the stance and the action. 

I wonder if the Oz army has 'hot' as a criteria for selecting personnel. Or maybe just the ones with a certain name starting with T?

Hmmm. Where was I? Yes, Putt Putt Golf. ND and I started teeing off, took a couple of shots and decided we had no clue what we were up to. He wanted to go home. Poor baby, I know the feeling. 

Instead, we went over to where some of the others were playing. PF asked me if I was done playing and I told him I did not know how to play the game. "You can have my game", GJ came running to me. Tell me again why I think he is a nice guy? AL looked up from his mobile phone, put it in his pocket and said, "Go for it, it's simple" and started following us. I gulped. I could not play for the life of me and here was my boss' boss and his boss watching me. A mental thanks to TS for showing me how to hold the driver. Another one to JM for explaining what I need to do. 

My first shot and off into the hole. Yay! LM wanted to know the score. Score? What score? There was no shortage of surprises in this day, was there? We were playing for scores? How do you score? Someone explained it to me. Supposedly, I had played well. One shot. Good. Suddenly, my confidence was soaring. 

It was not long before I realized that golf was not my cup of tea. Beginners' luck and things like that started making sense. It was fun, so I will not mention the skin that peeled off and had to be hidden under a band-aid, the calluses on my palms that were black beyond recognition and other little bruises. No pain, no gain. Right? 

I am not sure I understand why someone would go through so much pain, spend an entire day (or half, maybe) doing this weekend after weekend. I cannot see myself doing that. I can see learning golf slyly being pushed behind some other sport on my list. I'm not ready to give up yet, so that little voice can stuff it!

I'm not sure what the other sport is but I'm sure it will be less dangerous than this one. In my defence, getting injured while playing makes golf a dangerous sport! 

Ah, you heard that little voice too, did you? Annoying, right? I know!

What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You

It's been a while. I've had atleast 3 blog ideas and content to write but never made the time. Some of us have to earn a living, no matter how much we detest the means to the goal. Then there's all the extra things one needs to do to fit into that horribly expensive dress one bought or the pair of shorts that one is hoping to buy. Many and such excuses later, here I am. Back to my beloved writing. Sneak-peeking at the time and wondering if I really want to do this. 

One of my excuses for not learning martial arts even as a kid was that if the rest of the world can survive without it, so could I. That was the excuses behind which hid the real excuses - I was scared of getting hurt. Then my husband brought me to this guy who teaches an Israeli form of martial arts called Krav Maga. Tim is an excellent instructor and before I knew it, I was hooked. Yes, I came home bruised and battered quite often. On Wednesday nights, I barely managed to take the train back home, half-blinded by weariness, sticky and beaten after nearly 3 hours of punching, kicking, choking and hammers. When we did the Zombie exercise in the end, I didn't even have to pretend to be a zombie on some days!

In short, I love Krav Maga. I love my classes, my instructor and all that's in it. When KMTA organized a workshop at the Gold Coast one weekend, I didn't need Tim's excellent salesmen skills to tell me I wanted to do it. The announcement said it was only for graded and grading students. I wasn't graded and wasn't doing so this term but I registered, paid and went for it anyway. It was simply superb. We practised KM in the park, in the bus, on rough ground, in the sand, in the water and on sand mounds, just about everywhere. At the end of the "beach workshop", when we returned to the bus to change (he's an excellent driver too, by the way), there was a crate of chilled beer waiting for us. Did I mention I have the best training instructor ever?

One of the things that stuck in my head from the training was Tim explaining to us the strategic location to be seated while flying or in public transport that would help us in getting the best defend-and-escape position. He said he always took the aisle seat in a flight. When he was done explaining, it was obvious that if we all took a flight out some place, the window seats would be empty in the plane and everyone would be fighting for aisle seats. I'm one of those people that loves a window seat in an air-plane. I love the view while taking off and landing. It's my favourite part of the entire flight. The very part that used to scare me when I first started flying. Due to this, I refused to be influenced to take an aisle seat. It is not like I'm really going to be attacked or anything, I said to myself. 

However, it did make me realize what I'd once thought of, as an excuse for not learning self-defence. One of the things you have to learn in a self-defence class is the various kinds of attacks possible. The knowledge is supposed to prepare you for any surprises and help you get away with least damage. It works. Your mind is sure to be alert once you know what to expect. The flip side is that you end up being on an always alert mode. In some ways it is good. Sometimes, it's plain strenuous to have to keep the brain on alert all the time. It's almost like running on adrenalin/battery power all day long (ask me, I know all about how that feels). 

Also, it restricts your freedom to do as you please. Imagine never being able to take a window seat in a flight or bus or train. Imagine being worried about people walking down the aisle while you're in a window seat, with a stranger in the aisle seat next to you. Imagine walking down the street, clutching your bag, prepared for any kind of attack, all the time. What are the chances that you will actually get attacked? That said, can you just relax and go lax, given that the chances are probably slim. I suppose not. What is the point of learning to be alert and defending yourself if you won't apply it. It only takes that once to cause irrevocable damage.

Yet, I can't help feeling that sometimes I am better off being ignorant. I'm better off not knowing about the bad things that could happen, so I can enjoy the good things in peace. Or maybe I should just learn to strike a balance. I'm glad I'm not a police officer or a doctor. Imagine living in an I-must-save-and-protect mode all the time! It's a bit much. I love my sleep, I wouldn't sacrifice it to save the world from a war. Maybe not. Who knows? We'll cross the bridge when we come to it. Time to head off to earn my living. Wish I didn't know that. I'm getting that feeling again. I'm better off not knowing. As they say, what you don't know...

DLF IPL 2010

Disclaimer: This is merely me wondering, not an accusation at or an aspersion I wish to cast on the league or the parties involved. 

Since the semis I have been wondering how real the IPL matches are. Chetan Bhagat's tweet a few days ago, that the IPL was the biggest reality show in India, rings in my head. None of these reality shows are real, are they? And so the IPL? 

Look at the way last years IPL champions played the semi-finals. It was as if they had no intentions of playing but it was a mere formality they were being put through. First with the Chennai Super Kings and then with the Royal Challengers Bangalore, the Deccan Chargers simply handed away the match to the opponents on a silver platter. I'm not complaining, I'm happy that RCB grabbed the third place in IPL3 and a chance to play in the Champions League, in South Africa, this September. Yet, I cannot help wondering if it did not come too easily to them. In IPL1, the RCB were one of the best teams on paper but failed miserably to perform. In IPL3, they are suddenly superstars! My mind asks questions. It is, obviously, not Mallya's KF beer that helped them but what about his treasury?

When I was chatting to a friend this morning, I said I was rooting for the Mumbai Indians but the CSK had a good chance to win too. He was a CSK supporter and insisted that the had to win. They have reached the semi-finals all 3 years and the finals twice. The moment he said that I knew that CSK would win this match.  He was right, they had to. They have been consistent in all the 3 IPLs. It was about time they won and then moved back in the line, like the Rajasthan Royals and the Deccan Chargers. The winners from IPL1 - Rajasthan Royals - have been buried (almost) without a trace. The winners from IPL2 are not performing anymore. Clearly, they are not being generous and giving everybody a chance to win, are they? That would be a really large-hearted gesture. I mean, there's a lot of money involved, not to mention the millions of pairs of eyes across the world following the league. 

Here's my cynical view of last night's IPL finals. CSK played like Kings, no doubt. They deserved the win every bit. What about the Mumbai Indians? Too many flaws from their side, even for a cricket-ignoramus like me. Every batsman on the CSK side played well. The MI dropped catches and played slack. While CSK maintained a fairly consistent run rate of 8.0 and surpassed their own planned target of 160 by 8 runs, MI seemed to be playing as if it did not matter whether they lost or won. Such a perfect score and such a perfect run rate. Just enough to leave the fans wondering, not enough to predict who might win. The perfect finals. Clash of the Titans. Sufficient scope for some nail-biting on both sides and give people value for their money. Brilliant!

When it was MI's turn to bat, CSK played a fantastic game. No catches dropped. Plenty of kamaal catches, in fact. MI seemed to be very relaxed, scoring real slow in the beginning and not really gaining momentum even in the later overs. Why? To beat a required 8.0 rpo, they started off with a meagre 4.0 rpo. Did they think they could outclass CSK eventually, somehow? Miracles in the last few overs? How can you count on that? Of all players that batted in the initial 10 overs, their captain Sachin Tendulkar, who braved an injury to play in the finals, fared better than most of the top order batsmen. In spite of losing wickets recklessly and moving up the score tally at an eerily slow pace, MI refused to send their star player Keiran Pollard on to the field! One batsman after another, some singles and doubles, a stray boundary here and a sixer there but no sign of Pollard. Whoa! 

One might think maybe they were saving him for the last. To perform some of the magic he has been, time and again, in this series. Yet, how many wickets were they planning to lose before they brought their magician out? At worst, he should have been on the ground right after MI lost Sachin. He should have knocked a few shots and stayed on as long as he could. Instead, he came out when they were far too many runs to score in too few deliveries. A brilliant 22 in his first over was not enough to save the game for the hosts. If he had remained there for the rest of the game and continued in the same vein, there may have been a ray of hope. However, that was not to be. Our man went down sooner than we could have afforded to lose him. 

One of the highlights of the game, for me, other than the superb performance by MSD's men in yellow, was the show of true team spirit by Ambati Rayudu of MI. In an earlier blog of mine, I spoke of how Kohli's stand to stay on and let RCB's Peterson go was in poor taste. Rayudu, in a repeat of that situation, sacrificed himself for the better man on the field, Pollard. Clap clap clap. 

Another thing that struck me was Sachin's comment, after collecting the Rs. 3 crores cheque for being the runner's up. He expressed being unhappy that Pollard was sent in to bad so late in the game, when it was too late to salvage any damage. Pollard's body language when he walked in, had clearly indicated that he was not too happy either. Interesting! While everyone complimented Dhoni on his amazing captaincy, especially the unusual fielding placement towards the later stage when Pollard started smashing the ball about, here was his counterpart who did not even seem to have had a say in the batting order of his men.

With all due respect to the fabulous game by all players, especially the wonderful fielding by CSK, I am not completely convinced that the outcome of the game was decided even before the two teams stepped out into the field. I may be wrong and I hope I am but the masala in the last few matches, predominantly in the finals was too perfect to be real. Sigh!

Question: What was Lalit Modi upto, rambling about the muck he and the non-cricketing fraternity of IPL were involved in, in the speech for the award ceremony of the IPL finals? Totally uncalled for! Bad bad bad.

Quote: The studio host made a comment about the little pocket of sunshine amidst the vast cloud of blue shining the brightest in the end. I wish I could quote him here but I can't remember the exact words. His reference was to the little support CSK received against the huge crowd of fans in blue, at the staduim.

Scores: The 2010 DLF IPL Finals, played at the DY Patil Stadium in Navi Mumbai, CSK Vs MI

Chennai Super Kings	168-5 (20)	Runs	Balls	4s	6s	SR
M Vijay	c Tiwary b Fernando	26	19	1	2	136.84
M Hayden	c Rayudu b Pollard	17	31	1	1	54.84
S Raina	not out	57	35	3	3	162.86
S Badrinath	c Malinga b Fernando	14	11	2	0	127.27
*MS Dhoni	c Fernando b Z Khan	22	15	2	1	146.67
A Morkel	run out (Rayudu)	15	6	1	1	250.00
S Anirudha	not out	6	3	1	0	200.00
D Bollinger
S Jakati
M Muralitharan
R Ashwin

Extras: 11 b:0 lb:3 nb:0 w:8

Total: 168-5 (20) | Curr. RR: 8.40

FOW:M Vijay (44-1, 7.2), M Hayden (47-2, 8.4), S Badrinath (67-3, 11.2), *MS Dhoni (139-4, 17.1), A Morkel (157-5, 19.3)

Mumbai Indians	O	M	R	W	Nb	Wd	RPO
Harbhajan Singh	4	0	30	0	0	0	7.50
L Malinga	4	0	33	0	0	1	8.25
Z Khan	4	0	34	1	0	1	8.50
D Fernando	4	0	23	2	0	2	5.75
K Pollard	4	0	45	1	0	0	11.25

Mumbai Indians team: Harbhajan Singh, L Malinga, Z Khan, D Fernando, K Pollard, JP Duminy, A Nayar, S Dhawan, *S Tendulkar, S Tiwary, A Rayudu

Powerplay: 1: 1-6 ovs

Guest Post #8: The Tyranny Of Food

When I did my Guest Post week last month, a couple of my 'guests' took a raincheck. In a way, that was perfect because it was a week for amateurs and first-timers. Gautam is a freelance journalist and writer. Having him post on my blog has just increased my blog value multi-fold. Anything I say here will just be a spoiler, so I'll clear out and let you read on...

If it’s true that a dream job must match your biggest passion, then I should have been a chef. All my other passions ebb and flow, but my love for food never sways.

Food, to me, is love. It is happiness and adventure. And when I travel, it’s one of the most vital aspects of a culture. I don’t believe one can have personal food rules and truly understand other peoples.

However, I carried it too far. My relationship with food was what I’d now describe as “reckless”. I had to have meat for every meal (I rarely had breakfast). I ate out all the time, put away huge portions, and never exercised. I almost never consumed fruit and vegetables.

When you hear that I now ride my bicycle nearly every day, covering several hundred kilometres a month, you’d guess that my eating is very different. It is, but isn’t. I agree wholeheartedly with  the quote “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” The problem in the food-loving circles I inhabit, is that even moderation is perceived as extremism.

Simply wanting a light dinner after a heavy lunch makes me the “fitness freak” who’s denying himself all that’s good in this world. And because eating is a communal event, I become a spoilsport. I’m the guy at the party who won’t drink, making everybody feel self-conscious and judged.

This irritates me because if you’re secure in your eating and drinking, you shouldn’t worry about someone else’s choices. Yet, my new-found moderation constantly gets me barbs or pitying looks or defensiveness. “No I’m not on a diet”, I have to keep explaining. “I eat everything, just that I space out the high-calorie goodies.”

Food writer Michael Pollan, whose book ‘In Defence of Food’ I consider essential reading for anyone who eats, puts it better in another of his books, ‘Food Rules’: “Treat treats as treats. There’s nothing wrong with special occasion foods, as long as every day is not a special occasion.”

And there’s nothing like regular exercise to put all this in perspective. My friends hear of salad dinners and think they’ve lost me. How do I explain, without making them retreat wounded, that when you’re on a 100km bike ride, you don’t dream of braised pork belly and cheeseburgers, but of carrot sticks and apples?

And how do I tell them, without seeming smug and preachy, that exercise doesn’t just bring about weight loss and lowered cholesterol, but that it improves every minute of every day of your life?

Their current attitude to food, identical to mine five years ago, reminds me of the cabbage joke I read in one of those Gyles Brandeth books I used to love. “I hate cabbage,” it went. “Thank God I hate cabbage, because if I liked it, I’d have to eat the stuff.”

Seeing through this self-enforced ridiculousness is like being born again. Being free from the tyranny of food doesn’t mean I love it less. In fact, this new respectful relationship means I love it more. The big difference is that for the first time in my life, I respect my body enough to really care about what I put in it.

Thanks Gautam!

To read more of Gautam's writing, click here. 

FML

After a week (or more?) of fun and frolic, today was a slightly harrowing day. If it wasn't for all the work that kept me busy, I might have spent that time stressing.

• This morning, the auto I rode to work had a meter that showed almost 8 bucks extra and then I paid him another 7 bucks extra because I did not have "3 rupees change"
• I sat across a table narrating to somebody who knew the story
• This afternoon, I paid an extra 5 bucks to the guy at Subway because he did not have "5 rupees change"
• The sub was smaller than usual and I was still hungry after I ate it. So, I bought a banana milkshake which was excessively sweet and I ended up full but unsatisfied
• After a 4-day wait, I finally procured the data I needed for my testing but I was not allowed to test because someone else's work was "more urgent"
• I missed catching up with someone I badly want to see because the afore-mentioned testing kept me at work till late
• This evening, I went to the cafe on my floor but they had no snacks. Then I went down to the 2nd floor where I bought 3 kinds of chips, all of which was greasy and junk. I was hungry, I ended up feeling pukish
• After I finished testing, I packed up, eager to get home. I was stopped by a colleague who, upon finding that I was moving to Australia, kept me for the next half hour telling me how extremely difficult it was to get a job in Australia and New Zealand and that I had achieved something to be proud of. I knew that already.
• The auto I rode home charged me double the normal fare and dropped me off on the main-road, in the rain. After driving me for 6kms without a meter and charging an exhoribitant, illegal fare, he had the nerve to accuse me of cheating because I asked him to ride till my house. Which he did not. I hope he has an accident that'll cost him 10 times what I paid. 
• I called my friend who was watching a movie I sent him some time ago. He slept through the movie, most likely missed the part I wanted him to watch and when I asked him what the movie was about, he said "a boy and a girl". All Indian movies are about "a boy and a girl"
• I was desperately thirsty, so I kept a bottle of coke outside the fridge, intending to warm it a bit. My husband came home and hid the bottle. I was desperately thirsty. Now, I'm thirsty and annoyed too.

 Oh well, I guess it was not all bad. Let's see if I can come up with a few bright moments in my day. Umm...

• I pinged someone to say she was free to gossip about me now that the secret of my new job was out. I think I might have made her day
• My former boss buzzed me to apologize and wish me well with my new job, said he was not ignoring me, just busy and hence the delayed responses to my messages. I told him I knew that he would never ignore me. We both smiled.
• I spent an hour giving gyan to a colleague of mine. It was my opportunity to impart all that I've learnt in my career of 7 years and share all the gyan that I have received from my gurus. 
• I finally finished testing what I have been stuck with for the last 1 week, as I had to wait on the other boys in my team
• Mumbai Indians are at 77-4 after 9.3 overs. There is a ray of hope that we a.k.a RCB a.k.a Royal Challengers Bangalore may win after all. As I said, we may not be on home-ground but we thought we would be and we were mentally prepared to win. Do not forget, we have KP.

That took a lot, and I really mean a lot, of thinking. Time for my dinner. 

My mum has mixed my rice & curry, served it in a bowl (which she told me was the bowl in which we mix Lucky's food) and added sides of spinach and cabbage in a small plate. She rarely ever does this for me. Now I'm stressing over her actions. I need to know why she did it today, when I did not even ask to be served. In fact, why did she insist on it? 

Oh damn, can't the day get over already?

Selfish Or Foolish?

Another win for the Royal Challengers Bangalore! Starting off as the underdogs in the first IPL, with a fair deal of growling by the king of good times, Vijay Mallya, firing a player or two, Dravid ousted from captaincy, the RCB team has emerged to the second position in the points table in IPL3. The first, of course, is our Master Blaster Sachin Tendulkar's team, the Mumbai Indians. 

In last year's IPL, Jacques Kallis and Ross Taylor were the names I constantly heard. This year, it's been Uthappa in every game. He's been the hulk flinging the ball left, right and centre, with an amazing show of strength. Macho! Watching him and Kevin Pieterson play in positions 3 and 4 was a treat for me, as an RCB supporter today. Pieterson was simply superb. Standing tall and lean, this was one guy worth watching. And I don't mean just his game today. LOL. Then, Uthappa made way for Virat Kohli. 

This blog is dedicated to Virat Kohli's moment of dilemma. Both Kohli and KP were on the same side of the crease, KP taking a run. It was a split second decision for Kohli. Looking at the way KP was making the ball fly, should he have stepped up and gotten himself run-out? Instead, he stood his ground and let KP go. Was that selfish of him or simply foolishness? 

Selfish? What did he want? Some more batting time? We did that as kids, refusing to 'get out'. How much time? Surely, not the 6 and odd overs? Foolish? With 16 runs to go and 39 balls, there was really not much he could have achieved. Even at a couple of sixes or 4 fours, at worst, he would just be another name, in front of KP's knocks. KP appeared furious and rightly so. He could have finished the match for us in less than another over, given the game he was playing. It was a needless loss. 

What came of it? Four runs later (not sure if Taylor got them or Kohli did), Kohli was gone. An easily forgettable few minutes and 14 runs later, the man who refused to let KP stay, was gone.

I'm listening to the post-match analysis on TV. Former cricketers Akash Chopra and Anjum Chopra (captain of the Indian Women's Cricket team) insist that Kohli was right. Their argument is that Kohli did not call for the run and KP being the senior should have gracefully bowed out. Anjum says that we were in a good winning position and that KP need not have taken the chance and run, there was no need to rush. They end by saying what I hoped no one would say but was sure someone would - In the end, we won, so whatever happened does not matter

To me it was not about winning. It was not about whether KP should have let go because he was the senior. Maybe the Chopras were right about not having to rush to make runs and that he should not have run when Kohli did not call for it. That is not my point of focus here. It is about the attitude. Was KP wrong in getting annoyed at being let go, when he was playing so well? Was Kohli wrong in making a decision to stay? In KP's place, I would feel the same way. If I'm doing exceptionally well, I want to be allowed to keep going. To nip me off is frustrating. In Kohli's place, I would have let myself go, for someone who was already doing an awesome job. Either way, I do not support what really happened in the end. The winning would have happened anyway. RCB was destined to win. RR had boys gliding and swooping seconds after the ball passed them by.

It reminded me of some people I've met in the corporate world. It is hardly about their performance or that of others'. Hikes, bonuses, promotions and self-advertisement seem to be their focus. If somebody else delivered a high quality product and they were part of the team, they would happily take a large chunk of credit for the work. Where do they go, in the end? How are they able to sleep at night? I could never understand that...

Guest Post #2: The Things I Do...

It all started with writers' block, one guest blog and before I knew it, I was thinking Guest Blogger Week. I announced it first and then began to worry about finding people to write for me! I don't have too many blogger friends, what should I do? 

The immediate response to my request was an emphatic "No!" when I first started asking around. It was a test of my negotiation skills a.k.a nagging skills (as today's guest says). I'm pleased to announce that by the end of the second day, I had my second blog. Of course, it came with the condition of "complete anonymity". I also have 3 bloggers lined up for the rest of the week who are all super-excited. Three cheers to my negotiation skills, woo hoo!

Oops, I'd better stop rambling or I'll be accused of hijacking the blog. Moving on to the real stuff...

Royal Challengers Bangalore vs Kings XI Punjab (Tuesday 16th March 2010)

I know what you're thinking, "a review of a cricket game, wow, how exciting?"  Don't worry your excitement is matched with my lack of enthusiasm for writing.

Some years ago I read a book, Bad Hair Days by Pamela Bone, a memoir of a woman diagnosed with a quite rare form of cancer.  Pamela was a journalist prior to being diagnosed with her illness and comments in the book that usually less words are better when trying to get a message across.  I'm telling you this so that you can rest assured I won't be keeping you long.  

The real topic of this "guest" blog is nagging.  I'm a guy, a member of the weaker sex.  It's a Tuesday afternoon here in Bengaluru.  It's a holiday, Ugadhi, a time for eating sweets, right?  What better way to celebrate the Hindu new year than watching my beloved Challengers play cricket.  It's what any self respecting guy would do, right?  Alas, I've been nagged. Not just any nagging, this is the nagging of a friend, the worst kind.  "Write me a blog" she says, "I'm having a guest week for my blog".  Hmmm, "Not keen" I say.  Okay, that should be good enough, she cares enough about me to know that I would never write a blog.  What sorry person wants to know about my sorry life.  So fine, I tell her I'm not keen she asks someone else and we're all happy, right?  

Hours later I sit to watch the Challengers, on television, too many things in the way of me getting to the ground.  Why should I waste my time writing a blog?  Shit, I'm a guy, we don't do this stuff.  If she wants to write a blog why doesn't she write it herself?  Why should she interfere with my holiday just cos she can't be bothered writing her own blog?  It's not on!  But hold on, I've been nagged.  The nagging itself isn't a big deal until you reach the point where to shut her up you promise you will write a blog.  Shit, a promise is a promise.  I hate being one of the weaker sex! If only we had the prerogative to change our minds whenever we wanted, promise or no promise, sigh. 

It nears 6pm the players walk from the field for the change of innings, Kings XI have scored 203, things are looking bad all round.  RCB's batting line up isn't looking too solid, Pietersen and Taylor still to join the team. Anyway, as they walk from the field I reach for my laptop and start the dreaded chore of writing a "guest" blog!  This can't be happening.  Why is it happening?  Nagging, I have been nagged into doing this.  

So, I think some more about nagging. You know what, I've been nagged my whole life.  From my earliest days; "make your bed", "polish your shoes", "do the dishes", blah blah blah.  Then school; "do your home work", "sit up straight", "pay attention", blah blah blah.  Then, marriage, oh my god, where do I start.  Best not to.  And throughout all this a steady stream of nagging from friends, right up to the present day!

RBC are 89/1 at the half way mark, they're a chance.....  Why am I writing?  Why aren't I giving them my full attention?  The power of nagging.  

Now I'm wondering, would I have ever done anything in my life if it wasn't for nagging?  Is nagging a necessary part in getting the weaker sex to do anything?

Spike Milligan was quoted as saying "I would like to have enough money to prove that it can't make me happy". That's how I feel about nagging, I would like to go without it long enough to prove that I can't function without it.  

Oh, if you're interested in the cricket score, read about it in the paper.  I'm going to watch the last 8 overs in peace.  Happy Ugadhi!!

At the time of posting this blog, the match was over. RCB won the match by 8 wickets. Jacques Kallis was the star of the match. Oh yes, it was Happy Ugadhi after all - we won, Bangalore won!

Bliss

Today was my long ride day. I was going to push myself to do 25 to 30 kilometres, including a few uphills. The husband had heard that movies cost 100 bucks at the Forum Value Mall, so we decided to ride down there and catch the 10AM show. Brilliant! At 8.45AM, after a light breakfast, we took off. The weather was good and traffic scarce. It was a perfect setting for 2 bikers on their single speed. 

Fifteen kilometres and 40 minutes later, we are stopped by the security guard at the gate of FVM. The mall would open only at 9.30AM, so we waited outside. I stripped off my cycling gear i.e. helmet, scarf, gloves and walked about, trying to stretch myself. When the mall opened, we parked and bought tickets to the 11AM show (we were going to watch 'Karthik Calling Karthik' but bought tickets for 'Road, Movie' instead, on an impulse). The shops were all closed, so we just walked around, window shopping. The mall was almost empty, just perfect. 

When we reached the ground floor of the mall, we passed by a very tempting chocolate shop, called Bliss. They had the most amazing variety of chocolates. In the display, I saw an amazing replica of the Taj Mahal - one in brown chocolate and one in white. It reminded me of a friend who loved the TM and chocolates, so I took a picture to send to him.

We stood there, admiring the spread for 5 minutes and finally decided to peek in. Luckily, it was open. Even better, they served coffee (I was desperate for my morning fix). The furniture looked inviting. We decided that we would park ourselves there and enjoy a nice morning cuppa. We were handed a menu which had the most delectable list of chocolate items. I wanted one of everything. Sitting there, I hated having to chose one or two items, it was nearly impossible! Finally we decided to try something from the 'Chocolate Meals' list and a savoury item to compliment it.

We decided on our coffees first. I ordered the Latte (Espresso with steamed milk), that looked like the famous 'cutting-chai' in glass tumblers in Mumbai. Surprised but delighted. 

The husband ordered Cafe Mocha (Cappuccino blended with premium Belgium chocolate). Clearly, the guy making the coffee was not creative enough.

By the time the coffee arrived, we had decided. From the chocolate meal menu, we ordered the Buttery Belgium Waffles (Waffles with chocolate sauce and honey). When the dish actually arrived, it did not look as exciting as the title or the description. The little black chequered triangles reminded me of mum's ragi dosa. I was happier to be clicking pictures, instead of digging in right away. Dip it in honey and chocolate sauce and yummy!

Our pick from the savoury menu was the Toasted Cheese Tortillas (Spanish Quesadilla filled with Jalapeno, Olives, Cheese and Spring Onion, served with Mexican salsa and sour cream). The waiter said it would take time to make (we were the first customers, he was yet to light up in the kitchen, remember) and suggested the American Cheesy Sticks (Breaded Mozzarella sticks, accompanied by a tangy, spicy Mexican salsa) instead. The sticks were crispy to perfection and the cheese inside just the right texture. Dip it in the Mexican salsa and you are immediately transported to another world (where fat is 'in'). 

A dream ride and an amazing breakfast later, we took off to watch 'Road, Movie'. It is a funny way to name a movie, with the word 'movie' in it. The girl selling me tickets at the counter just called it Road. Maybe she found it awkward to say 'the movie Road Movie' (the comma goes missing when we actually say it). A weird movie, very different, no story, just starts off and ends some place but totally worth a watch. Goofy and entertaining. At 100 bucks, much recommended. We also got an offer to buy a large popcorn and medium Pepsi for 100 bucks ("It costs 130 rupees inside", the girl said). 

Ride, breakfast, movie, shopping, ride back home. Shopping was awesome, the husband was a complete sweetheart all through. The ride back home was hot and tiring, a headwind all the way. I barely noticed the downhills but the uphills were enervating. I managed it. The husband and I are both proud of me. I am thrilled to bits, it is my best day of the year, so far.

5 Fascinating Minutes

I had a scary ride back home from work, nearly hit a few times (as is normal if you're riding or driving in Namma Bengaluru) and bullied off to a wrong turn on the flyover, bothered by sadistic guys with nothing worthwhile to do with their lives... In short, I spent most part of my ride mentally cursing the traffic around me, people on the streets and anything but enjoying the ride. By the time I reached the gate to our building, I was still fuming and decided to vent on my blog tonight. 

I stopped at the gate, saw the neighbour's kid playing cricket in front of my garage again and felt like kicking his dad for teaching the son such unhealthy habits. He constantly hits my car and one of these days, he'll go home with a broken bat. So, that was my state of mind at 7PM tonight.

And then the sweetest thing happened to me. In the next 5 minutes, the weariness of my entire day and the ride had just slipped off me! I met the cutest kids ever. 

The first one came running to me (call him A, for I'm such a douf that I did not ask their names). Pointing to his head he says, "Aunty, what is this?". "My helmet. Do you want to wear it?", I asked. He is quick to refuse "No!". 

I just start to ask him why when the next kid comes running to me (say, B). "Aunty, what is this?", he's pointing to the back of his palm. I smiled at him and said, "Those are gloves" but did not ask him if he wanted to wear it. Maybe he did not. I did not wish to remove them either.

Kid C comes running and says, "Aunty, I want chocolate!". The smile on my face is plastered. Such adorable kids. "Hmm, you want chocolate, let me check if I have any", I said as I mentally prayed fervently that it was one of those days that I did have a chocolate in my backpack. I remember throwing a bar of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut in my bag a couple of days ago but I was not sure if this was the bag. 

I release my backpack from my shoulders and slide them down, almost to the ground. I'm trying to desperately find the bar of chocolate from underneath the bags in my backpack, containing my work clothes, shoes and papers. Kid B yells, "Aunty, you have a dark blue bag, so nice!". I asked him if his favourite colour was dark blue and he shakes his head, "No, I like light blue". I can't help laughing. 

It was an awfully cute moment. The kids were so enraptured by everything I carried. I fish out the chocolate bar and Kid B screams again, "Aunty, you have chocolate!". His eyes widen and he has excitement written all over his face. It was the most beautiful moment of my day. My week, maybe. Or even this year! Kid C, who had momentarily moved to watch the elder kid play cricket, came running. All the three of them huddled close, eagerly watching as I unwrapped the bar and started breaking chunks off the chocolate.

I gave them each one piece and ate one myself. Not one of them said, "Thank you". When I was a kid, manners were hammered into our heads. I remember my dad dragging me down the stairs to say "Sorry" to the neighbour in the flat below us when I was apparently rude with her. Back then I'd thought I was funny and I had a big ego that would not let me apologize but the fear of dad's hands making contact with my teeny ass compelled me to apologize. 

Coming back to this evening, nobody thanked me. I almost said it aloud and made them thank me. In an impulsive moment, I stopped myself. I did not want to hear them say it. I could see it in their excitement. They did not throw tantrums or ask for more. When I broke off the fourth piece saying, "I also want to eat chocolate", they just watched without a word. I faintly wondered if they thought it was such a waste of good chocolate for an "aunty" to be eating but hey, they were sweet, did not say a word. 

It was such a pleasure to see that one small chunk of chocolate could make each child so happy. They hopped off, after they ate, for I had stuffed the rest of the bar back in my bag. I wondered if I should give them more but I was not sure if their parents would appreciate it. I'm lying. It's just that Fruit & Nut is my favourite, I do not ever want to share it. The kids made me feel like a million bucks, I could not have not shared with them. 

I parked my bike, locked it and came home to a warm welcome to another cutie-pie. My baby Lucky. Wagging her tail and rubbing herself against me. Twenty seconds later, she was sniffing at my bag. Mmm, chocolate! So easy to give it to her and watch the happiness wash over her face but I could not, it is poison to her, no matter how much she might love it. Surprisingly, she was as well behaved as the kids downstairs. She did not persist or beg further. 

I met the most delightful kids today! Oh, how I adore them... even when they say the darnest things!

My Republic Day

My brother and I would wake up sleepy-eyed at 6AM on a holiday, sleep-walk to the bathroom and dress up in white or green or saffron (so yeah, white) to attend the flag-hoisting at the playground in our colony. It's been a regular event ever since I can remember... school days, work-days (I lived elsewhere during my college days) until we moved out of the colony last year.

While most people don't seem to exactly 'celebrate' Republic Day, it's good to see that there are a few colonies that still do it. A colleague of mine mentioned celebrations that included little kids getting cute little Indian flags, a parade by the 25 watchmen in their huge apartment complex, etc. The one I'm talking about is nothing compared to that. We hoist the flag at 7.15AM sharp (the president of the resident's welfare associate does), one of the ladies distributes sweets. There's breakfast, sports/games for kids and parents, lunch, cultural programs in the evening and finally dinner. It's fun to live in colonies with lots of houses but not so many that it becomes a little city of it's own. I miss that. But then, I miss the grounds and the clean locality too. I digress again!

Back to Republic Day celebrations. I drove mum & dad to the colony (as ex-president, dad was a 'special guest'). What was different this year? The ladies decided that they wanted to take the centre stage, so when the flag hoisting was about to start, there was a group of ladies totally amused to watch the confused men wondering where to stand, for their place was taken. One of the women proudly announced that we'd pushed the men aside and taken the lead. The litle joys of life. Guess this was her moment. The president arrived, in a suit (whoa!) at 7.30AM (big crime, we always do 7.15AM on the dot)... the women-folk were getting restless and unhappy at the lack of punctuality. As most people that come under the category of 'big people' in government offices go, the president merely unfurled the flag but didn't exactly put in an effort to get it in a position that it would wave in the wind. One of the other men had to do it after him. Duh!

Usually, we would start off with the National Anthem. Our lady, Mrs. Akhila, started singing Vande Mataram, so the rest of us had to follow suit. She wanted to end the National Song with 'Vande Mataram' chanted thrice. Okay lady, you got it. That was followed by the National Anthem. Thank God for these Republic & Independence day celebrationss, I can still get both these right, unlike a lot of Indians I know *wink* *wink*

The president yelled "Bharat Mata Ki" and the chorus ended it with a "Jai". Then "Vande Mataram" chanted a couple of times and now the audience wanted him to 'say a few words'. If I were in his place, I'd go blank. Imagine being unprepared, an audience wanting you to speak on the occasion of Republic Day, at 7.30 in the morning! I was desperately trying to remember which anniversary it was. 61st. The man just took off and spoke for over 5 minutes. Republic Day, love for the country, greateness of people... oh dear, how do they do that? That's one thing about these KEB guys, I've noticed... they can talk. Anyplace, anytime, anything about. No English, all Kannada. Brilliant. I mean, the speech was okay but the impromptu was good, the language was good.

Breakfast from Shrinidhi Sagar, as always. Idly-Vada with sambar and coconut chutney, Kesaribath and tea. No coffee. Sigh! I am a coffee person. Enjoyed breakfast. Wished I could have another vada but I was really full. While mum & dad caught up with old friends from the colony, I decided to sit in the car and read for a while. I ended up watching a few kids play. It looked like fun. A new game. Never played that before. One boy from the group throws a ball up in the air and the guy who is "out" runs to where it drops off. The other guys run as far away from the ball as they can but have to turn into statues the moment the 'out' guy finds the ball and yells "STOP!". Then he picks one guy from the group (I'm guessing the guy closest to him), who remains a statue and the rest of the group crowds around the guy who was picked. The 'out' guy throws the ball in the direction of the group and whoever the ball hits is now "OUT". The ex-out guy throws the ball up in the air, the new 'out' guy runs after it and the rest run away from it... and it continues in a never-ending game.

Nothing like the lagori of our days but well, kids these days are lot delicate, I guess. As long as they didn't break the glass of my car, I was happy. After a few minutes of watching some of the kids crowding around my car and the 'out' guy trying to fling the ball at them, I decided that the stress wasn't worth it and dragged my parents back home. I just had to get my car out of there. I had work to get done, at home.

It's afternoon now, I'd better go wish dad while it's still his birthday. It always seems to get buried in the bigger celebrations of the bigger events of Republic Day. Poor dad. The husband's got a chocolate cake, which might have been cut and eaten at midnight if dad hadn't slept by then, if bro did not have to run a marathon this morning and the husband himself didn't have a long ride planned. Cake still waits. Yummm, the thought of chocolate cake in the refrigerator is making me hungry...

It Happens Only In India

Remember those forwards with pictures of overloaded trucks, scooters carrying a family of 4 or 5, over-crowded buses? The subject line of the emails would say 'It happens only in India'. Here's my contribution to IHOIA.

Good: I saw these kids on my way to work one day. It brought back memories of my school days when I did the same. Double-riding with heavy school bags on my BSA SLR that lasted me nearly 10 years...

Bad: Come elections and there's a sudden surge of love for slum-dwellers. Guys from BBMP a.k.a Brihad Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (Greater Bangalore Municipality Corporation) parked their bore-well drilling lorry bang in the middle of the road one fine morning. The morning wasn't really 'fine' after that. The men in the neighbourhood came down upon them real hard, quarreling about the parking, quarreling about the drilling and the attitude of the workers and just about everything. Finally, it took the cops to get them out of the way and make peace.