Melbourne moss

Chapel and Ganguly never quite enjoyed a mutual back scratch when they were at the helm of affairs. The first senior to be temporarily eliminated for falling foul of the coach returned to the legion of time tested greats when his removal never reflected in the victory margin of team India.

When Dhoni ascended to the throne, he had 4 skippers under him each having ultimate clout on all levels of the BCCI. The non performing elephants had to be ignored. With a carrot being tossed at Dhoni by way of T20 captaincy, the panel of selectors found a green thumb for a wilting Indian farm. With a first badge on his chest, he ensured elimination of Laxman, Dravid and Ganguly from the ODI ring.

Being someone who treats his captaincy records like glass sculptures, MS eliminated a mass of runs that he found burdensome from a celebrated lineup. Victory in the VB series followed.

Now, we've lost five tests overseas and MS makes the same mistakes - men manning the deep for guys who have barely seen the light of day. A man who won two world cups, ODI series against Australia, SA and England faltered with field placement ? Doesn't one see a deliberate measure ? Well, the man is sparing the rod to spoil the child and is swiss knifing the selectors, board and the commission. He wants the big three out of tests for good reason. Men with fifty thousand runs nearing forty years of age have failed to touch 300 in 8 visits to the turf. Negotiations have failed. Decades of association forces selectors to show faith in yesteryear overlords. MS decides to put things on paper.

If the wise old owls of Indian cricket decide to holster their guns turn around, the man with the midas touch will turn on the lights again. There's more than what meets the eye and most certainly MS, with ease, can solve the new Aussie puzzle. He just needs to think lean.

The Old Man at Jantar Mantar

When was the last time you reached out to your back pocket while winking and smiling ? A week ago, at the cop’s who cut you up for probing crossroads at a red ? Or when your usual license holder below your dashboard abandoned you when you pulled over ?

Many a stat might have captured the contours of middle-man money-muddling; but would the Lokpal Bill nip those dirty green extensions ? Chances are that our system could set out on a ghost hunt as a result. The bill might have its comedy and drama within the texts and the haggard leadership might weakly argue about it being a “threat to democracy”, but the cockpit is still vigorously pulling levers and twisting joysticks to get it’s inverted umbrella in shape on a stormy night. For a moment, if we allowed them their space, what might lie ahead ?

The fishing net of the people’s bill suggests casting of  a line on sharks, fish, whales and even toads of the system and provides significant tobacco for the opposition parties to fill in their pipes and blow fumes in the well of the house while the government sings. However, most importantly, cyclostyled sheets of text have tickled the soles of a sleepy eyed nation. An energy that seemed to be lost and dissipating has been neck looped by a lasso and placed before the masses. The awareness has been created and the undoing of our sins has begun.

People glare at themselves for their follies and refrain from rubbing palms of the yellow eyed. The right psalms have been sung.

And even if the bill might not pass, the engineers are playing big brother and checking many a slip between cup and lip.

"Off with the 50s" says Swann...

See it off...




A week before a five match series, I look out for squads, probable lineups, case studies of bowlers being slashed or batsman nicking it early. On the day of the game, the TV sets begin to babble an hour before the toss. Bhogle inc. labels the imaginary diagram of the day and presents a hypothetical Indian win well before the last ball has been bowled. Kicked up, we're latched on to our couches for the next seven hours. We're with the blues through thick and thin - right from when the openers guide leather into unmanned streets, to the number nines heaving and missing the fast men of the opposition. 


Fifty is a trailer of test cricket and documentary on T20s with all styles of play being bracketed. But it is time for the format to walk into the horizon for we have clear demarcations in our modes of play now. The mad, smokey chase has been banished to the 20s while the artistic compositions and melodious symphonies stand marqueed on the test level. There are different genres of players - those who make a  living of T20s often wake up to a false dawn when they find technique and composure abandoning them when whites dry on the clothesline. They seek solace in the fifties and test cricket loses another pawn to the treasure trove. 


Middle cricket has run it's course and would soon find itself housing discards hovering between tests and 20s. A collapse of quality in play would be imminent. Systematic abandoning of ship before an eventual jackknife is the need of the hour. Let's keep our pockets full and traditions upheld. Let's play just tests and T20s !! 

Downtown

                

Tune in to English news and you find Right bashing intellectuals flaunting their assets of grammar while having a ruthless go at the saffron based opposition with fancy, multi syllable adjectives. The Gandhi family is the centrifugal force of the Indian Union and like the British Royal family, can do no wrong. But why have the gun towers of the yuppie newsrooms locked in on the cherubic, blossoming young one of the Congress ? Did the baby pull the pet’s tail ? One can delightfully comprehend why RG has been peppered with open letters from the press. Probably because he called his mom to fight a more self made Mayawati. Or has the media finally spotted a green monster hiding in plain sight? Certainly, there’s more than what meets the eye.

It’s but natural for a mentor and tutor to take a  hard stance on subjects for a home schooled lad and even normal for him to turn into a concierge if the kid is from the ruling congress. As has Mr. Digvijay Singh – a nobleman who has faded to black so his pupil attains shades of grey. And  so they tread on. Not so long ago, the neutral press chiseled out a Rushmoresque bust of Rahul. The rich clean lad in his swank caravan equipped with disinfectants and mineral water descended into the unkindness of UP’s poverty belt and spent a few days beside the bourgeoisie. The snootiness of the calf was deliberately ignored by the ink slingers for the visit to the slum was a TRP booster – much like Paris Hilton in the simple life.

Not so long ago, Mani Shankar Aiyer hinted on a heated exchange that Rahul’s mother would promote the honorable prime minister to president so the adolescent could play with the sword. In a bid to smoothen the bedrock of prime minister ship, the boy was allowed to pique on a rather dislikeable opponent - Mayawati. Backed by forces of righteousness, the first bullet was fired – Bhatta Parsaul; courting of arrest etc. – a highly rehearsed arrangement. The contest between Maya and Rahul minus the political backing would be much like Britney Spears (Rahul) against Dog the Bounty hunter. The visits to juggis in remote UP are now looked as one night stands. He may have ball danced Kalavati into knighthood but a self made Mayawati is quite an adversary.

The time to sit on the throne hasn’t yet arrived; or has it been nipped in the bud ?

The Incumbent

Are we truly progress crazy or do we like new names? We like to see exponential upments in infrastructure though we want different people to do it. And thus we have the grand affair of the state every five years. This frame of time has been looked at with a fresh pupil needing branded feet on the podium.

And thus, we saw the rise of difference in 4 states this week. And as history hath established, the losers have been damned a dozen times over by the studios of delivery that rev up the scene and plant hatred towards the adversary.

One may bounce a ‘constant change’ cliché off you and get away with standard reasoning but it’s important to step back and dig into the ex files of the faithful and perseverant leadership. The day they rose to the occasion when the janta was irked by the incumbent govt doling out imaginary wish lists.

It’d be but healthy to revisit the humanness of those to, for and by the people and the bodily provision of a burnout. They’re the spearhead of our cause and therefore they find their feet sooner than averages.

And thus, good will always win over evil.

For the People

Do we constitute the system or does the system define us ? Ever since the frail old respected Gandhian - Anna Hazare decided to shun the plate, the whole nation has been resonating rhetoric. Do we truly sense a breakthrough in the bureaucratic realm or are we herding about terms like anti corruption, politician, bribe etc. ?

Forefathers of many have been couriers of cash - be it to the cop or the municipal officer. When was the first time currency made its way through fists ?  Did a really daring and backward villager of the 40s contest the system by offering a bigger proportion of his daily wages to have his rations issued ? Tough call. It certainly was the man in the steel framework of the bureau who stretched his palm out. Ever since, we've been winking at one another and 'passing the buck'. This channel isn't young though. Great grandfathers and their grand grand offsprings have indulged in various forms of laundering even in the smallest measure. The grand old man probably paid the extra annas to have his pensions in order while the young lad of the new age would have slid a ton between his license book to a cop for breaking amber.

The locus continues - the extra baggage with every transaction has become a habit that's been imbibed by our bloodlines over the ages. The angry young man wants the job done ! Patience is a thing of the past and when I pay, I pounce.

With a delightfully spun yarn of dealing with the forces that govern us, we cry 'Lokpal'. Are we ready for it's after effects ? Or rather, the withdrawal symptoms of not being able to do a ventriloquist's act between wads of bucks. Hold it Sir - "Our Politicians are corrupt and we going to fight them"

Sure thing Redneck ! Let's see you pay up 500 to a cop with the issuing of a counterfoil; waiting in line till you're the last man standing only to find a closed counter at 6pm. Sometimes, it's the few more pounds that might give us the momentum to strive, or the power on earth, when we lunge forward. Nonetheless, we're doing a cross country Mexican wave against the diplomatic.

Time will tell whether we've swallowed a magic pill or band aided a fracture.

Ice Age

"Stations for takeoff" says the pilot. Fredric Chopin's symphonies play in my head. His airstrip is quilted with snow. The runway, craft, propellers, control towers are like foamed cheeks ready for a shave. I see just white. The white carpet fools my mind into a deafening silence. The windchill is -22 deg C. We cut through the blizzard at takeoff. Super snow soppers rake ice off the runway. The gray tarmac drafts a stray stretch on an otherwise bright sheath. The breadth of the surface along

its rim is over a couple of meters. Warming fluids gush out of fancy bulldozer like vehicles. Reminds me of a boxer being oiled before a clash. We rise into the clouds....