Wa-kee-wa, a palindrome in pronunciation and an African word if I heard it right, in the movie Blood Diamond, which means, watz up boy ? Boy says, Heroes homecoming was yesterday's news bulletin in CNN - IBN, now called as TV 18 network, and Welcome home was the front page blow up in Times of India (TOI) newspaper today. And who are the heroes ? No Arnold, no Bruce Willis, no Megastar, no Superstar, no Shahrukh, no Hrithik and no not even our soldiers, who are the REAL heroes who never get a recognition from the media, who fight day in and day out at the Siachen and Burma borders protecting every inch of space which is being attacked by neighbouring countries. Fortunately, India is covered with oceans to the left and right half of it's side, otherwise half the billion population would have gone in protecting the country. The real heroes according to the media, are our cricketers who won the Twenty20 World cup, beep. I was a good boy in my previous post, but don't expect that here.
You must have known by now that I can talk a bit about cricket and despite that I detest the media hype that is being clattered around our cricketers. To me, T20 world cup victory hardly matters. Yes, they defeated the best teams in the abruptly condensed form of the game, but T20 format is a money spinner, a great spectacle for the fans and a massive boost for the game that can extend cricket to to other non-playing countries. Fullstop. Gone are those days where I used to quickly turn the newspaper to the last page for sports, specifically a gusted interest to see a headline on cricket. Now it's all cricket on the front page. Everything else is taking a backseat. Everyone's is cashing on the game and the real purpose of watching a news bulletin is lost. I hate that to the core. I wonder how non-cricket fans, who call it a mad game where a person hits the ball and the other 11 on the field are there to stop it, running amok like a jerk, from reaching the boundary, jumping and diving in the process, would feel it. And to add this frenzy, TV18 talks to it's reporters at three different locations possibly - Delhi, Mumbai and Bangalore - in their prime time news bulletin at 9pm for 10 minutes - asking them, why don't we get recognition for other sports like hockey and football or even Chess, where Viswanathan Anand might be a World Grandmaster again, other than cricket. And the reporters or the experts in the studio said, cricket has been the passion or interest of the people without actually answering the question. Rightly so, you'd never expect a correct answer for the answers which are inherently known to everyone. They air cricket in their primetime to increase their TRP ratings. They air Salman Khan's departure from Mumbai to Jodhpur, including the flight details and the time, coz he is the Bollywood's good boy, but projected bad boy. A reporter will be in Mumbai before the flights departure asking his counterpart at Jodhpur , Has the flight got delayed ? They tell you what Sanjay Dutt ate in his jail when he was arrested in connection with the 93' Mumbai blasts. In doing so, they get more ads,they can increase their revenues. If one news channel does that, other 24 x 7 news channels including the regional channels, are forced to do the same, if not, they are caught napping. It's all about money, honey.
Despite the surge in news channels, I still feel, the slow yet steadily paced DD English news is the best. Anything in excess, vexes. So I got fed up at TV18's coverage and the unprecedented interest those news readers show in delivering the content to the public including the diction. It appears all sham when they show all about cricket's wham-bham. I am not too far from rapping.
I switched to Discovery again, and they are back to their regular stuff, though watch worthy this time. I have the liberty to create my own words in blogging and you have the privilege to read those. A reporter goes to Northern India, around the Himalayas - Uttarakhand region, but centered around the Ganges / Gangotri flowing places, on her search for spiritual quest. It's quite soothing to see that show. I had been to Hrishikesh and outer mountain ranges in the Himalayas. It was quite an experience. A very pleasant one. Anything around the Ganges and the Himalayas, trying to know about the history is appeasing. Ganges is so pure, you have to see it, to believe it. One can see the real nature there. Am I not mellowing down? So the reporter asks a Sadhu who has been spending his life for 40 odd years in one of the villages around the Himalayan border - Who am I ? Where have I come from? And where I am going in this life? The Sadhu quietly replies, you have to isolate yourself from the self.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Revisiting GITAM
Gandhi Institute of Technology and Management, is my college where I had done my Bachelors and now a deemed university after 25 years of its establishment. Gitam is the acronym, and sort of hair stands stiff on the hand and sends goosebumps when you mention the very name, more so, to outsiders who've only heard of it as a good college, but never studied there. Not anywhere close to IIT, the standards or the research activities, but the serene surroundings enroute to college, the sheer pride that you are studying in Gitam and the bike ride on the beach road everyday, if I think of it now, is terrific. Now that it has become an university, it has to be seen whether the brand Gitam is kept high as before or if it comes to dilution once it really starts adding more departments and courses to the already existing number. I happened to visit Gitam after 5 years, when I had been there last week for a break and I have got the topic to talk now. I thought of writing this blog in two parts, but I am putting it all at one place. So you know that you got to your have cup of hot tea beside.
I straight away went to Visweswaraya Bhavan to see and meet any of the staff that I know off. As I enter the building, I see to my left, the much famed Chemistry lab which used to be a nightmare to freshers and the lab attendant there recognised me, though not my name but my department and introduced me to Ramnatham sir. I wasn't expecting the lab attendant to recognise me, though I could identify him and he was the first known face to be seen. Sir kindly obliged and spent few minutes with me talking about the departments and recollecting the memories of 1998, when the lab first got shifted to the present location. Asked my whereabouts and is very much a soft spoken guy now and you can see the hidden glee on his face and in his words, by talking to an 5 years ex-student. As I was thinking to take leave, I saw Maths sir, Achary Sir, quickly springing on the steps. I move towards him and Oh man, and he is exuberant as ever. He enquired about my family, my job, my health - the same love and affection that he showed in the college days. I took a picture with him and he felt very happy for me. He went to his department and I can hear him talking about me all through the way with his colleagues. The massive dedication to his job, the unmatched commitment all mixed with a tinge of love towards his students is incredible. I felt great to meet him as I wanted to meet him first, before I proceed to our department.
Rapid construction work was going in between the engineering buildings. As I head to our building, Sir Arthur Cotton Bhavan, I could see my classmate who is working as a teacher there. Our department head, ASR Sir has recognised me, even my name. We spoke about the regular stuff. I then enquired for my classmate and he is an Assistant Professor there. He came out of the classroom to meet me and once he was done with his class I met him and his wife. The first married couple in our 98 - 02' batch, who are working as teaching staff in Gitam. I and this bloke went to the canteen and had a samosa and banana shake, reminiscing the past. I bid goodbye to these people and headed to the labs section. The most dreaded, manic machines lab was found closed and I took a picture of it. The circle and the leeway on which we used to write records and prepared for the laborations came to my mind. I strolled around the college taking pictures wherever I can. I could see guys playing basket ball in the indoor stadium. Cannot say much about their game coz I hardly played baskeball in my life, but I can say they are little qualified height wise to play the game. I'd probably consider myself a Michael Jordan if I nail one in 10 shots. When I felt I was getting old, I headed my way to the fascinating Rushikonda beach and the bus stop, skipping Mother Teresa Bhavan and the hostels. It was hazy and drizzling, which reminded me of the ragging days in my first year. Sea Inn restaurant, which used to serve delicious meal, was found in dilapidated condition and still it hasn't changed its thatched roof.
Huge flock of students were waiting at the bus stop. I was clicking pictures as if I may not visit the place for the next 100 years. It would definitely be more than 5 years before I get onto that route again. As I was heading to the bus stop, which never has a bus shelter, I let one bus go pass by. I wait for the next one and in comes route number 17B. Students were getting ready to get into the bus early to grab a seat and so did I. I thought I would do a little adventure to give one final shot at, getting into a running bus. I ready myself, with mobile, camera and wallet everything intact. I hold the side rod close to the steps, run a few paces with the same speed as of the bus and hop ! Boy, I still have it in my legs as I was the first one to get into it. Being the first one into a moving a bus and grabbing a seat not only for you, but for your friend as well was one of those forgotten little victories. During my college days, it was me and my good friend, were the first ones to get out of the class and take the first bus home, chit chatting about the daily stuff and girls all the way. But this time, I only had to take the bus back all alone with enriched memories.
I took the bus from MVP, the bus stop where we try to jostle for a foots place on the foot board with books in one hand and grabbing whatever thing that comes to the other hand, to cling onto the already crowded bus coming from Siripuram. I actually intended to take the bus during the peak hours, around 8:30 am in the morning to get a feel of actually going to the college, but it was raining hard and I postponed my plans to afternoon. Bus route 900K was relatively free to get in, though the stinking fish smell was present all through the 18 minutes journey. I asked for a ticket and the bus conductor had a double take at my appearance, before he punched one. I had to smile to shoo him away from my presence. So I got the first hand reaction of the students or the staff whom I would be meeting in the college, but who cares man now.
I straight away went to Visweswaraya Bhavan to see and meet any of the staff that I know off. As I enter the building, I see to my left, the much famed Chemistry lab which used to be a nightmare to freshers and the lab attendant there recognised me, though not my name but my department and introduced me to Ramnatham sir. I wasn't expecting the lab attendant to recognise me, though I could identify him and he was the first known face to be seen. Sir kindly obliged and spent few minutes with me talking about the departments and recollecting the memories of 1998, when the lab first got shifted to the present location. Asked my whereabouts and is very much a soft spoken guy now and you can see the hidden glee on his face and in his words, by talking to an 5 years ex-student. As I was thinking to take leave, I saw Maths sir, Achary Sir, quickly springing on the steps. I move towards him and Oh man, and he is exuberant as ever. He enquired about my family, my job, my health - the same love and affection that he showed in the college days. I took a picture with him and he felt very happy for me. He went to his department and I can hear him talking about me all through the way with his colleagues. The massive dedication to his job, the unmatched commitment all mixed with a tinge of love towards his students is incredible. I felt great to meet him as I wanted to meet him first, before I proceed to our department.
Rapid construction work was going in between the engineering buildings. As I head to our building, Sir Arthur Cotton Bhavan, I could see my classmate who is working as a teacher there. Our department head, ASR Sir has recognised me, even my name. We spoke about the regular stuff. I then enquired for my classmate and he is an Assistant Professor there. He came out of the classroom to meet me and once he was done with his class I met him and his wife. The first married couple in our 98 - 02' batch, who are working as teaching staff in Gitam. I and this bloke went to the canteen and had a samosa and banana shake, reminiscing the past. I bid goodbye to these people and headed to the labs section. The most dreaded, manic machines lab was found closed and I took a picture of it. The circle and the leeway on which we used to write records and prepared for the laborations came to my mind. I strolled around the college taking pictures wherever I can. I could see guys playing basket ball in the indoor stadium. Cannot say much about their game coz I hardly played baskeball in my life, but I can say they are little qualified height wise to play the game. I'd probably consider myself a Michael Jordan if I nail one in 10 shots. When I felt I was getting old, I headed my way to the fascinating Rushikonda beach and the bus stop, skipping Mother Teresa Bhavan and the hostels. It was hazy and drizzling, which reminded me of the ragging days in my first year. Sea Inn restaurant, which used to serve delicious meal, was found in dilapidated condition and still it hasn't changed its thatched roof.
Huge flock of students were waiting at the bus stop. I was clicking pictures as if I may not visit the place for the next 100 years. It would definitely be more than 5 years before I get onto that route again. As I was heading to the bus stop, which never has a bus shelter, I let one bus go pass by. I wait for the next one and in comes route number 17B. Students were getting ready to get into the bus early to grab a seat and so did I. I thought I would do a little adventure to give one final shot at, getting into a running bus. I ready myself, with mobile, camera and wallet everything intact. I hold the side rod close to the steps, run a few paces with the same speed as of the bus and hop ! Boy, I still have it in my legs as I was the first one to get into it. Being the first one into a moving a bus and grabbing a seat not only for you, but for your friend as well was one of those forgotten little victories. During my college days, it was me and my good friend, were the first ones to get out of the class and take the first bus home, chit chatting about the daily stuff and girls all the way. But this time, I only had to take the bus back all alone with enriched memories.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The origin of Bob
As I get my feet firmly rooted to the ground, after that roving reporter Rovaan has drawn a parallelism to Roark, I embark my journey to coin a new word for your - our immediate manager who is affectionately termed as 'Bob', before I head for a week's break. The evolution and description of Bob, and how this character is etched will be presented later. Before getting into the details, I would like to say, there can be more than Bob in your office as you scale up the hierarchical ladder, say Bobs. I never claimed any copyrights for my blog, but for this character, I'd say, I need to be referred if you are using it. You are at liberty to use this word for non-commercial purposes but if you are trying to commercialize on this name, I'd expect you to put a reference to this link in your writing or usage. And last night, I woke up in the middle of the night due to running nose, only to start sketching this character.
My colleague (who sits next to me) and I, were discussing about bosses yesterday and he came up with the word Bob, his previous boss in his previous company, and the very name has rung bells in my cranium. This actual Bob used to sit in the 16th floor of a building and my colleague used to work somewhere in 8th floor of a building. And if anyone does a mistake in the work, and if he still pretended he was flawless in the delivered piece of job, Bob, used to come all the way to his cubicle, fold his hands, put a grim face and would ask you to test it right in front of him - the same section of code that you delivered and pretended flawless. And if you were caught and stranded like a ferry in an ocean, Bob would be giving a wry smile and a wink, and one out of your three lives is docked in the office.
I only had taken the name from that conversation and now am putting my definition to the same. The two B's in the front and the rear of the word B-O-B do resemble human ears to an extent and the big hollow O, through which your F-16 fighter crafts can carry a mock drill, is the head. So, if you blow air into one ear (B), it passes through the shallow hollow head (O) and safely reaches the other end (B), making a resonating noise. So to me, managers are meant to be dumb headed and yet, are portrayed as the omniscient lot of the corporate world. Fortunately I don't have anyone named Bob in my office and if I get one in my future, I might really be trying blowing air in one of his ears. No offense to the name, but one has to find a nick name to his Boss at some point of their time and this is it. I might be a Bob one day as well, so everyone has to get through that phase of life at some point of time.
Typical Bob's characters and deeds can be, you could be given a pink slip by Bob because he came to know that you were making out with Jenna Jameson, the Swedish porn star, in your dreams last night. He got furious with his wife the previous evening and he doesn't want to go home till 10 pm the next day and compels you to stay till late night, even if you are done with the work. Lazy Bob doesn't want to replace his second hand car's tyres with his winter tyres as winter sets in, and asks you to pick him up from his house citing reasons that his car was broken. He neatly tucks his belly and shirt in his trousers and tightens his mouth and lips when he tries to know, some unknown things from you and still giving you ample evidence that he is called BOB for no reason, by opening his mouth. Most of the times he receives credit for the good work you've done and he hardly gives a pat on your back. He is the first one to get rattled and petrified if his superior authority asks him to make modifications in the work, which eventually has to be carried by his team. 9 out of 10 times he supports the management and the only time he supports you is, allowing you to get married, as though he is funding the celebration. Thinks the whole day to grant you leave for half a day when he infact, drops saliva in front of his superiors to get his things done and wont be seen in his chair for most of the time, giving an impression that he is busy.
Cant stop raving about the fictitious, yet nattily dressed, omnipresent character, Bob.I have to put an end to this at some stage. So I am now. One can write volumes of books on Bob, like your Harry Potter series. Incredible Bob is a blob. Outright, I can see one Bob in here, how many do you have?
My colleague (who sits next to me) and I, were discussing about bosses yesterday and he came up with the word Bob, his previous boss in his previous company, and the very name has rung bells in my cranium. This actual Bob used to sit in the 16th floor of a building and my colleague used to work somewhere in 8th floor of a building. And if anyone does a mistake in the work, and if he still pretended he was flawless in the delivered piece of job, Bob, used to come all the way to his cubicle, fold his hands, put a grim face and would ask you to test it right in front of him - the same section of code that you delivered and pretended flawless. And if you were caught and stranded like a ferry in an ocean, Bob would be giving a wry smile and a wink, and one out of your three lives is docked in the office.
I only had taken the name from that conversation and now am putting my definition to the same. The two B's in the front and the rear of the word B-O-B do resemble human ears to an extent and the big hollow O, through which your F-16 fighter crafts can carry a mock drill, is the head. So, if you blow air into one ear (B), it passes through the shallow hollow head (O) and safely reaches the other end (B), making a resonating noise. So to me, managers are meant to be dumb headed and yet, are portrayed as the omniscient lot of the corporate world. Fortunately I don't have anyone named Bob in my office and if I get one in my future, I might really be trying blowing air in one of his ears. No offense to the name, but one has to find a nick name to his Boss at some point of their time and this is it. I might be a Bob one day as well, so everyone has to get through that phase of life at some point of time.
Typical Bob's characters and deeds can be, you could be given a pink slip by Bob because he came to know that you were making out with Jenna Jameson, the Swedish porn star, in your dreams last night. He got furious with his wife the previous evening and he doesn't want to go home till 10 pm the next day and compels you to stay till late night, even if you are done with the work. Lazy Bob doesn't want to replace his second hand car's tyres with his winter tyres as winter sets in, and asks you to pick him up from his house citing reasons that his car was broken. He neatly tucks his belly and shirt in his trousers and tightens his mouth and lips when he tries to know, some unknown things from you and still giving you ample evidence that he is called BOB for no reason, by opening his mouth. Most of the times he receives credit for the good work you've done and he hardly gives a pat on your back. He is the first one to get rattled and petrified if his superior authority asks him to make modifications in the work, which eventually has to be carried by his team. 9 out of 10 times he supports the management and the only time he supports you is, allowing you to get married, as though he is funding the celebration. Thinks the whole day to grant you leave for half a day when he infact, drops saliva in front of his superiors to get his things done and wont be seen in his chair for most of the time, giving an impression that he is busy.
Cant stop raving about the fictitious, yet nattily dressed, omnipresent character, Bob.I have to put an end to this at some stage. So I am now. One can write volumes of books on Bob, like your Harry Potter series. Incredible Bob is a blob. Outright, I can see one Bob in here, how many do you have?
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Day dreaming
Man, I am slogging in for blogging out, trying to muster every detail for blogging, the widgets you can add on, the HTML links that can be put in your writing allowing your blog to be presented in a better way...everything all alone and online. Yeah , alone needs a special mention because we were used to spoon feeding from childhood and you say its all pig shit when you don't have proper content in your blog ? True. But when you have the intention to make the act better, you dig deeper. I have the intention. Jesus Christ, why can't we, for a second think normally? So I added Google search button in my blog page and my colleague said, who would come and do a Google search in your blog and instead recommended, its better if you have an option which searches only this blog, and I added it. Voila. God bless him.
Weekend, I was watching a show in Discovery channel about the magnificent engineering constructions in the world. Though the telecast we receive is pretty much customised to Indian standards and viewership, they do show some good international knowledge - enriching programmes, amidst the regular chaotic Bombay traffic or a story about the livelihood of a long white bearded abandoned Sadhu living in the interiors of one of the most ancient cities of India, Varanasi. But this time I happened to watch a magnificent construction that is going in a small city in Spain, where they are planning to build a shopping mall, food court, entertainment stuff, what not, everything at one location on the top of a small hill. Nothing new, but the sheer design and the gigantic glass pieces that are embedded on the outside of the building is breathtaking. Motive behind this construction was to promote the city and develop tourism, fair enough. As I was watching the show, invariably I was wondering, why don't we have marvellous constructions going in our country, apart from the 400 year old Taj. The answer: The next day I happened to see in the news, a fly over under construction in one of the prime commercial areas in Hyderabad, came down crashing killing 20 people and injuring double the number. I dare not to think about construction work again, let alone the magnificent ones.
If, the, why don't we undertake marvellous constructions was one part of my daily dreaming, here comes the classic case of day dreaming. And you thought I was blabbering without any reference to the title all the way? So its not only me who is stupid. I went to bed early last night, for me early is 10 pm. So I was dreaming and dreaming and dreaming all through the night, and I hear a small explosion, loud enough that has woken me up and put me into reality. No, I am not living in Iraq or Anantnag - Baramulla regions of Kashmir to get used to it. So I look around the room and through the broken window pane I peep outside while still lying on the bed feeling everything is fine. A small gleam of street light entering my room from the half open back door, has allowed me to take a look at the ceiling, as I see the fan's rotations dropping. I realised it was a transformer blast due to sudden surge in the power or a trip off which controls the excess voltage to apartments. The result - a power cut. We had power back up and as the fan started picking up speed, though I could still count the number of blades in the fan, it was fast enough to put me back to sleep and my mobile showed 1am as I continued dreaming. I generally don't remember my dreams. Now this is normal, as with everyone else. Otherwise there would have been another blog titled, 'My dreams'.
No its not over yet as I am really referring to the subject matter now. My mobile was shouting, 'It's time to get up, the time is eight thirty. It's time to get up, the time is eight thirty '. d-A-m-N , even it has an accent. I feel I have an automatic clock inside my body and that was saying it was still 4 am as I was trying to ignore the repeated alarm shouts. I would normally get up on the third or fourth shout, not because I don't like sleeping that extra bit but I hate hearing that voice and to stop it, I wake up. So after like 10 shouts and feeling what the heck on earth was going, I was brought back into reality again and I realised it was my dear lady voice who cares for me everyday, day in and day out that sends me to the office, tirelessly. I get up and check the time and my lady voice is always correct! It was 8:30 am and had to run to my office. Fortunately this time, there was no one to splash water on my face while putting an end to my day dreaming.
Weekend, I was watching a show in Discovery channel about the magnificent engineering constructions in the world. Though the telecast we receive is pretty much customised to Indian standards and viewership, they do show some good international knowledge - enriching programmes, amidst the regular chaotic Bombay traffic or a story about the livelihood of a long white bearded abandoned Sadhu living in the interiors of one of the most ancient cities of India, Varanasi. But this time I happened to watch a magnificent construction that is going in a small city in Spain, where they are planning to build a shopping mall, food court, entertainment stuff, what not, everything at one location on the top of a small hill. Nothing new, but the sheer design and the gigantic glass pieces that are embedded on the outside of the building is breathtaking. Motive behind this construction was to promote the city and develop tourism, fair enough. As I was watching the show, invariably I was wondering, why don't we have marvellous constructions going in our country, apart from the 400 year old Taj. The answer: The next day I happened to see in the news, a fly over under construction in one of the prime commercial areas in Hyderabad, came down crashing killing 20 people and injuring double the number. I dare not to think about construction work again, let alone the magnificent ones.
If, the, why don't we undertake marvellous constructions was one part of my daily dreaming, here comes the classic case of day dreaming. And you thought I was blabbering without any reference to the title all the way? So its not only me who is stupid. I went to bed early last night, for me early is 10 pm. So I was dreaming and dreaming and dreaming all through the night, and I hear a small explosion, loud enough that has woken me up and put me into reality. No, I am not living in Iraq or Anantnag - Baramulla regions of Kashmir to get used to it. So I look around the room and through the broken window pane I peep outside while still lying on the bed feeling everything is fine. A small gleam of street light entering my room from the half open back door, has allowed me to take a look at the ceiling, as I see the fan's rotations dropping. I realised it was a transformer blast due to sudden surge in the power or a trip off which controls the excess voltage to apartments. The result - a power cut. We had power back up and as the fan started picking up speed, though I could still count the number of blades in the fan, it was fast enough to put me back to sleep and my mobile showed 1am as I continued dreaming. I generally don't remember my dreams. Now this is normal, as with everyone else. Otherwise there would have been another blog titled, 'My dreams'.
No its not over yet as I am really referring to the subject matter now. My mobile was shouting, 'It's time to get up, the time is eight thirty. It's time to get up, the time is eight thirty '. d-A-m-N , even it has an accent. I feel I have an automatic clock inside my body and that was saying it was still 4 am as I was trying to ignore the repeated alarm shouts. I would normally get up on the third or fourth shout, not because I don't like sleeping that extra bit but I hate hearing that voice and to stop it, I wake up. So after like 10 shouts and feeling what the heck on earth was going, I was brought back into reality again and I realised it was my dear lady voice who cares for me everyday, day in and day out that sends me to the office, tirelessly. I get up and check the time and my lady voice is always correct! It was 8:30 am and had to run to my office. Fortunately this time, there was no one to splash water on my face while putting an end to my day dreaming.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
India clinch a thriller at the Oval
With cricket being one of the passions, it won't be too long before I publish a full fledged blog and today is the time to go for it. If you are not a **die-hard cricket** fan you can stop reading right here. Thanks, visit again. All those people who has a tendency of checking cricket score once in a while just because your colleagues are discussing it, and spitting spiteful comments and asinine remarks on the best players that India has ever produced can also get back to work. But hey, I do check scores and analyze the game myself whenever I can, even though I am not into debates regarding the same. Okay. You are considered. When I mean die hard, the sheer victory evokes that dying spirit in you, which will make you elated, which will give you confidence to do your activity the next day, which will let you forgive the past blunders that the team has committed, which will give you satisfaction that you've achieved something on that victory day, which will keep you hyperactive for the remaining hours of the day- is the need of the hour. By analysis, we mean blokes who have been watching the game for more than a decade, say 15 years, listening to each and every detail in the commentary, who can quickly judge an Lbw decision on first look just as an umpire can, who can predict what could possibly happen in next couple of deliveries and who has a gut feeling that they are talking right about cricket all the time without any proclivity to the players.
Having been set a stiff target of 316 in 50 overs by England at the Oval, India were off to a flier by the 22nd over with the score card reading 150 for no loss. Just when you felt that the match was going to be one sided, Ganguly holed out to Pietersen at covers and India were one down. Tendulkar, the champion bastman, whose batting form in the series reminds you of the Tendulkar in 1994 in New Zealand, was at his imperious best. With a dont care attitude and a free swing of the arms he is back at the top of his game in this match. The trademark Tendulkar stroke, thrusting his front foot forward,with a straight bat, striking the ball straight down the ground, back past the bowler - the shot that holds your breath for couple of seconds until the ball hits the advertisment hoardings- is back! And din't you gape at that shot by, saying, "Oh man...." without a blink? That's when you know the Little Master is at his belligerent best.
Having attempted a big heave over mid wicket to which he was unable to connect, Sachin was seen holding his back expressing pain and fatigue. After hitting sumptuous strokes, he experienced cramps and when he was on 94, was out to nothing of a shot to Monty Panesar. Gambhir played a handy knock. With Yuvraj and Dravid disappearing in quick succession, despite both being in rich vein of form in the series, left India tottering at 234 for 5 with 80 runs needed off the last 10 overs. Dhoni had taken his time in the middle and consumed more than enough balls to have a sighter, and England were a sniffing a victory. Robin Uthappa, the young unsung lad from Karnataka, is the hero of the day. After having couple of streaky fours behind the wicket and his share of luck, he remained composed and they both had taken India to striking distance ,before Dhoni departed at 294, needing 22 runs off last 12 balls. Couple of fours in the penultimate over meant, India needed 10 runs of the last over with two wickets in hand. First delivery, Stuart Broad to Uthappa, a couple taken. Second delivery, Khan run out at the non strikers end in an attempt to sprint for a quick single. Tension mounts. Uthappa still on strike with 8 runs needed of 4 deliveries. Two wickets remaining. Next delivery, with the fine leg up in the circle , Uthappa tried a cheeky four down the leg side and India are a hit away from an emphatic victory. Now the final leg is pushed back to the fence and long off is brought inside the circle. Broad bowls a yorker length ball, Uthappa takes couple of steps down the pitch and smokes it straight past the bowler for a four. And boy, what a shot that was for a winning stroke chasing a mammoth score ! It was Yuvraj, who was in his tracks ran straight onto the pitch and gave a warm hug and jumped, embracing him for few moments. He was holding him tight, not leaving him and that was one of those wildest celebrations you'd ever see for clinching a thriller.
Sachin in the post match interview stated, as long as he scores a 90 and gets out, and if the team wins from there on, he said, he'd prefer that than a century. Wasn't he emotional, is Sachin? So is Dravid and Sourav. They are playing as a unit now. They are supporting each other than ever before. They know that they are in their twilight of their careers and are thoroughly enjoying each and every bit of the game now than in the past.
The three big boys of Indian cricket whom we all revered and worshiped are back at their helm of affairs for one final onslaught. We burn effigies when India doesn't do well, we feel we are blessed when we get to see their repertoire of strokes, we exonerate them when they give us a humdinger, we take it to the heart when they get emotional over the post match conferences, we even shed a tear or two when they celebrate a hard fought thriller. Cricket is not anywhere present in our religion, it's there in our blood !
Having been set a stiff target of 316 in 50 overs by England at the Oval, India were off to a flier by the 22nd over with the score card reading 150 for no loss. Just when you felt that the match was going to be one sided, Ganguly holed out to Pietersen at covers and India were one down. Tendulkar, the champion bastman, whose batting form in the series reminds you of the Tendulkar in 1994 in New Zealand, was at his imperious best. With a dont care attitude and a free swing of the arms he is back at the top of his game in this match. The trademark Tendulkar stroke, thrusting his front foot forward,with a straight bat, striking the ball straight down the ground, back past the bowler - the shot that holds your breath for couple of seconds until the ball hits the advertisment hoardings- is back! And din't you gape at that shot by, saying, "Oh man...." without a blink? That's when you know the Little Master is at his belligerent best.
Having attempted a big heave over mid wicket to which he was unable to connect, Sachin was seen holding his back expressing pain and fatigue. After hitting sumptuous strokes, he experienced cramps and when he was on 94, was out to nothing of a shot to Monty Panesar. Gambhir played a handy knock. With Yuvraj and Dravid disappearing in quick succession, despite both being in rich vein of form in the series, left India tottering at 234 for 5 with 80 runs needed off the last 10 overs. Dhoni had taken his time in the middle and consumed more than enough balls to have a sighter, and England were a sniffing a victory. Robin Uthappa, the young unsung lad from Karnataka, is the hero of the day. After having couple of streaky fours behind the wicket and his share of luck, he remained composed and they both had taken India to striking distance ,before Dhoni departed at 294, needing 22 runs off last 12 balls. Couple of fours in the penultimate over meant, India needed 10 runs of the last over with two wickets in hand. First delivery, Stuart Broad to Uthappa, a couple taken. Second delivery, Khan run out at the non strikers end in an attempt to sprint for a quick single. Tension mounts. Uthappa still on strike with 8 runs needed of 4 deliveries. Two wickets remaining. Next delivery, with the fine leg up in the circle , Uthappa tried a cheeky four down the leg side and India are a hit away from an emphatic victory. Now the final leg is pushed back to the fence and long off is brought inside the circle. Broad bowls a yorker length ball, Uthappa takes couple of steps down the pitch and smokes it straight past the bowler for a four. And boy, what a shot that was for a winning stroke chasing a mammoth score ! It was Yuvraj, who was in his tracks ran straight onto the pitch and gave a warm hug and jumped, embracing him for few moments. He was holding him tight, not leaving him and that was one of those wildest celebrations you'd ever see for clinching a thriller.
Sachin in the post match interview stated, as long as he scores a 90 and gets out, and if the team wins from there on, he said, he'd prefer that than a century. Wasn't he emotional, is Sachin? So is Dravid and Sourav. They are playing as a unit now. They are supporting each other than ever before. They know that they are in their twilight of their careers and are thoroughly enjoying each and every bit of the game now than in the past.
The three big boys of Indian cricket whom we all revered and worshiped are back at their helm of affairs for one final onslaught. We burn effigies when India doesn't do well, we feel we are blessed when we get to see their repertoire of strokes, we exonerate them when they give us a humdinger, we take it to the heart when they get emotional over the post match conferences, we even shed a tear or two when they celebrate a hard fought thriller. Cricket is not anywhere present in our religion, it's there in our blood !
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Blog and a little more
Blog is a place where you can post your thoughts, share information with your readers, express yourself, update your daily activities etc..it's all what you thought, ha ? No offense, I felt the same too until I encountered few blogs which were totally dedicated as a medium for posting jobs ( like your job portals), marketing their products, sharing obscene videos ( yeah, who is interested in the regular stuff eh) and have to wait a little longer to know what more can I add to the list. And all this is done for FREE. Bottom line for today, blog acts as a website. As simple as that. It is no more a decent place. Any notions of blog being a great place, have to dismissed with disdain at this moment, though most of the blogs are still serving the purpose for what they are actually meant.
It's just another website where you can upload, literally everything, though I presume it is not as straight forward as paid sites on the web, but it still is a good starting point for people to play with. Limited features you might feel upfront, but what more do you expect when you hardly shell a penny out of your pocket and can still manage few bucks into your bank account by displaying ads on your blog. Extracting the best features of your blog depends on your research on the web while adding RSS feeds like feedburner, digg.com etc can provide better user interface and options to muck around. I prefer to keep my blogs simple, straight and if possible, try to make a statement out of it and will always cater to what it is intended for.
It's just another website where you can upload, literally everything, though I presume it is not as straight forward as paid sites on the web, but it still is a good starting point for people to play with. Limited features you might feel upfront, but what more do you expect when you hardly shell a penny out of your pocket and can still manage few bucks into your bank account by displaying ads on your blog. Extracting the best features of your blog depends on your research on the web while adding RSS feeds like feedburner, digg.com etc can provide better user interface and options to muck around. I prefer to keep my blogs simple, straight and if possible, try to make a statement out of it and will always cater to what it is intended for.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Weekend stuff
Not always there should be a topic in the blog. Blog can act as a journal or a diary to your, if not daily, then to your weekly activities. While writing this stuff and when one is not actually comfortable with typing or with the language, can be a pain in the......( you know it) anyways, ass. I don't mean I am extraordinary in the above said skills, make no mistake, not even anywhere close to that. It sort of gives a feel good factor after a month or so, about you or the stuff, which you initially thought is a crap, that you posted.
And what was my weekend like ? It wasn't as boring as initially intended. No movies for a change. Could eke out time by sleeping all day long on Saturday and watching the match till late in the night,between Roger 'The majestic' Federer and the 6 foot 9 inch, lanky, hard serving, hailing from University of Georgia, John Isner. Just as his impressive profile so was his play against the Legend in the third round, that he actually managed to snatch the first set from Roger in 40 odd minutes in the tie-breaker. Any chance of causing an upset were quickly annihilated and Federer is not called great just for nothing, as he raised his game by a notch and simply taming the young American in the remaining three sets. Lesson for the upcoming player who just burst onto the ATP scene this year. As a note on cricket as usual, India winning the match against England and trailing the 7 match series 3-2, not because of their worst fielding on display but because of a series of good knocks by their top five batsmen. People around me in the office, most of the time talk about sports as though I am the legal sports expert or as if I am their sports appointed secretary. Anything other than sports with me, is a hush - hush affair. It's they who has to figure that out, not me. Invariably, this sports section always creeps into my blog, involuntarily at times as well. And what sports can I confidently talk about ? Cricket and tennis. No, not even your Real Madrid, Manchester United, Arsenal - soccer. The soccer stuff I knew, I already blurted it out, the team names.
Remembering an instance on Friday morning when I was quickly walking to my office which is situated a few hundred metres from my house, Yeah, I am the lucky few chaps currently in this world, who is avoiding a traffic jam on their way to their office - A dandy neatly shaven, young Sadhu, who dressed in Orange robe, was asking me for money. Why? Because he needs it. Crazy you. I ignored him and increased the pace in my walk to avert any chance of him chasing me down. Had it been a foreigner, he would have been chased till he donated his debit card. By foreigners, we only mean white Caucasians, preferably Americans and Europeans. Chinese, Africans, Middle east & South East Asian inhabitants are excluded from the foreigners list and can breathe a sigh of relief. We want free money and easy money by begging, be it a world bank or a pedestrian. The sadhu said, I would be successful in my work that day. Little did he know that I hardly believe in superstitions.
And what was my weekend like ? It wasn't as boring as initially intended. No movies for a change. Could eke out time by sleeping all day long on Saturday and watching the match till late in the night,between Roger 'The majestic' Federer and the 6 foot 9 inch, lanky, hard serving, hailing from University of Georgia, John Isner. Just as his impressive profile so was his play against the Legend in the third round, that he actually managed to snatch the first set from Roger in 40 odd minutes in the tie-breaker. Any chance of causing an upset were quickly annihilated and Federer is not called great just for nothing, as he raised his game by a notch and simply taming the young American in the remaining three sets. Lesson for the upcoming player who just burst onto the ATP scene this year. As a note on cricket as usual, India winning the match against England and trailing the 7 match series 3-2, not because of their worst fielding on display but because of a series of good knocks by their top five batsmen. People around me in the office, most of the time talk about sports as though I am the legal sports expert or as if I am their sports appointed secretary. Anything other than sports with me, is a hush - hush affair. It's they who has to figure that out, not me. Invariably, this sports section always creeps into my blog, involuntarily at times as well. And what sports can I confidently talk about ? Cricket and tennis. No, not even your Real Madrid, Manchester United, Arsenal - soccer. The soccer stuff I knew, I already blurted it out, the team names.
Remembering an instance on Friday morning when I was quickly walking to my office which is situated a few hundred metres from my house, Yeah, I am the lucky few chaps currently in this world, who is avoiding a traffic jam on their way to their office - A dandy neatly shaven, young Sadhu, who dressed in Orange robe, was asking me for money. Why? Because he needs it. Crazy you. I ignored him and increased the pace in my walk to avert any chance of him chasing me down. Had it been a foreigner, he would have been chased till he donated his debit card. By foreigners, we only mean white Caucasians, preferably Americans and Europeans. Chinese, Africans, Middle east & South East Asian inhabitants are excluded from the foreigners list and can breathe a sigh of relief. We want free money and easy money by begging, be it a world bank or a pedestrian. The sadhu said, I would be successful in my work that day. Little did he know that I hardly believe in superstitions.
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