Simply the Best !

Real men also cry. Even when one of them is possibly the greatest player in tennis history, and has just equaled a 27 year old record held by another all-time great. So it was when Roger Federer won the All England Lawn Tennis Championship for the fifth consecutive year, beating his nemesis Rafael Nadal in a final that was complete paisa-vasool for tennis lovers.

(This post has been WIP for too long, for Fedex has since gone on to win the US Open against the precocious Djokovic, despite being decidedly less than his usual brilliant self).

It is not easy to write a dedication to Roger Federer, for whatever I say about him would have been said before, and better. Anyone with even a mild interest in tennis acknowledges that the Swiss does not need to equal or surpass any more records to prove that he is the greatest player ever in the game of tennis. For His Royal Highness Roger Federer’s claim to greatness is not his ability to break and create records at a breathtaking pace – it is that he has brought beauty and elegance to a game that had begun to be too strongly associated with bulging muscles and nerve wracking grunts. He glides on court like a ballerina from the Bolshoi and uses his tennis racket to orchestrate the most breathtaking shots that the game of tennis has seen in a long while, using his talent, intellect and intense concentration to unsettle even his strongest opponents. A lethally reliable serve and a tremendous repertoire of shots notwithstanding, what impresses me most about Federer is the manner in which he conserves and optimizes his energy, raising his game by several notches in the rare instances that he is behind.

Tennis was never a beautiful sport, but watching Federer play sometimes tempts one to draw comparisons with a Chopin composition, a Van Gogh painting or a Somerset Maugham character - quite simply, it moves you emotionally in a way that one would never associate with a rough game of sport.

So it does not come as a surprise when great tennis players, current and past, discuss him in reverential undertones and writers like David Foster Wallace write tomes on Roger Federer as a religious experience. "He just plays you, trying to make you play your worst and he plays his best. He matches up his strength to your weakness unbelievably," said Federer’s first round opponent at the US Open. If Federer continues the way he has, a DVD on Federer moments will soon become a must-have for tennis fans.

I had saved my ode to Roger Federer for the 2007 French Open. Watching the maestro play throughout the tournament, I was confident that this was the year of his Grand Slam. Yes, there was that little matter of disposing Rafa, two time champion and king of clay, but that could be taken care of. The official crown of The Best Player Ever beckoned Roger.

Unfortunately, the feisty Nadal cares a dime for reputation or greatness, and denied Federer that opportunity, stamping his authority over the World No 1 for the second successive time on clay.

So I told myself – going by the measure of records as a measure of greatness, Federer is not the greatest player in tennis, at least not yet. After all, when you contrive to lose a Grand Slam final in 4 sets despite being ahead and having several break points against your opponent, you still have some work left to do.

And then came Wimbledon – Nadal & Federer once again. Emperor versus a worthy pretender. Already, it appeared that Nadal was much more comfortable on grass than Federer was on clay. And then there was his youth, power and tenacity, not to forget that he is one of those rare players against whom Federer has lost more matches than he has won - this was indeed going to be a dream Wimbledon final.

True to form, the match did not disappoint. Both players played breathtaking tennis – sometimes winning a game at love and at other times clawing from behind to clinch a game, made some unexpected unforced errors, and came up with some near-impossible shots – battling each other with that rare hunger and tenacity that distinguishes the great from the good. Hawk Eye also played its role, with a rare outburst from the level headed champion. When Nadal won the second set, Commentator 1 said of Mika, Federer’s girlfriend: She looks nervous. “So does he (Roger Federer)”, quipped Commentator 2.

Two sets later, Commentator 1 of Mika: “She had some nails 2 hours ago”.

But after over four hours of breathtaking brilliance, HRH prevailed, palpably lifting his game in the final set to deny Nadal the opportunity of dethroning him. And in a telling demonstration of the tremendous respect that the world’s best two tennis players have for each other, Nadal embraced the champion at the net. Meanwhile, a particular sequence in the game stays with me. At one set all, Federer is serving to level the 3rd set 6-6 and take it to the tiebreaker, when an ace fired by him is challenged by Rafa – who has successfully challenged several Federer points before, much to the champion’s chagrin. Federer shakes his head in disbelief, as if to say - you dare challenge an ace fired by ME? The shot is called in, Federer wins the point, and backs it up with two unplayable serves to win the game. Just in case you missed the point – no one challenges Roger Federer.

But men’s tennis is changing. For a legion of youngsters – Djokovic, Murray, Baghdatis - are joining forces with Rafael Nadal to challenge the world number one’s complete domination of the game. The Emperor has mercilessly destroyed his opposition in the battles till now, but some say that he has hardly been challenged, except possibly by Nadal. So as the boys throw the gamut for the war ahead, will the ‘aging’ Federer succeed in stamping his superiority once again? If that is so, as most of us hope it will be, the best in men’s tennis is yet to come.

But as the competition draws closer, Federer appears to be in no mood to relinquish his crown. For as he said at the press conference after the US Open final upon being asked to compare Djokovic and Nadal – No 2 or No 3 does not matter, what matters is being Number 1.

From anyone else, that would be arrogance. Coming from Roger Federer, it’s simply confidence.

For now, a closing glimpse. At the post match Wimbledon press conference, the presenter asked Federer: 15-40 down twice in the second set, and you still won (the final)?

Well, you get lucky sometimes, he smiled.

Champions are also humble.

Change of Heart

To make love with a stranger is the best.
There is no riddle and there is no test. --

To lie and love, not aching to make sense
Of this night in the mesh of reference.

To touch, unclaimed by fear of imminent day,
And understand, as only strangers may.

To feel the beat of foreign heart to heart
Preferring neither to prolong nor part.

To rest within the unknown arms and know
That this is all there is; that this is so.

Unclaimed - Vikram Seth

Tiger, tiger, burning bright...

Thank God its Thursday ! Finally, it was time for us to start our journey towards the heart of India – the Kanha National Park in Madhya Pradesh.

The excitement started in Bangalore, when we were running late for our flight and had forgotten to book a cab. In desperation, we offered an autorickshaw 100 bucks for the 4- km ride to the airport. Our man took our exhortations to drive fast quite seriously, and his manipulations of the auto as we were caught in the jam outside the airport, accompanied by entertaining commentary and expletives (aimed at the other drivers) was worth every rupee. For once, I was glad I was not driving my precious car!

After an almost-night-out in Bombay, I was ready to drop off when we reached Nagpur the next morning, but there was still the 220 km road journey to cover. The Qualis offered to us by a friend’s relative turned out to be a bit of a squeeze for seven women and their luggage, but we somehow survived the 5.5 hour road journey. The highpoint was stopping at a hand pump on the way to drink and soak our tired limbs in some refreshingly kool water!

We reached our accommodation, the MP Tourism run Baghira Log Hots, at about 4 in the evening. Not being able to take a safari at that time (we were too tired anyway!), we had a relaxing evening spent sitting outside our cottages and gazing at herds of cheetal flock past as we listened to the sounds of the jungle. The rustic resort is located in the core zone of Kipling country (the name of the resort is obviously inspired by The Jungle Book), and turned out to be a great place to enjoy the Park.

The excitement commenced right away, as we found a baby elephant caught in the grass next to our cottage (panic not - all elephants in the park are tame) and later heard a leopard hunt a deer in the park.

The main activity at the Park is, of course, the jungle safari - there are two safari’s in a day (morning 6-10 and evening 4-6). How many animals you sight depends upon the time of your visit and of course, your luck. I finally broke my jinx of no tiger sightings in several previous wildlife trips by seeing three this time! Looking at this majestic creature - the lazy and regal walk, the proud tilt of the head, the soft and shiny fur and the mesmerizing eyes – is an experience of a lifetime that sends an unmatched thrill down your spine.

The two male tigers were actually ‘sighted’ by forest guards, who then transmit this information to all safari jeeps so that the visitors can come for the ‘tiger show’. This is essentially a 2-3 minute circling of the tiger as you sit atop the park’s elephants – it may appear a bit contrived to purists but you are unlikely to ever get a closer viewing of the king of the jungle, so it is worth the 100 bucks per person. We also had the more natural ‘stumbling upon the tiger’ experience when we came across a tigress nonchalantly ramble across the road that we were driving on.

Our safaris would not have been half as entertaining without Sharmaji, our jeep driver, who, with seven women who he wrongly presumed were innocent college kids, imagined himself as Kanha’s Casanova (much to his chagrin later!). We learnt all the wrong facts about Hindu mythology from him, and even though we were left to ‘catch’ the wildlife on our own, his inimitable vignettes (Main hee who Sharma hoon joh Sita ke saath tha, mujhe zyaada bolne ki aadat nahin hai) and the laughter they evoked are unforgettable.

Though the tiger is clearly the main attraction of the park, on offer are several other wonders for a nature lover. Kanha is the only park that is home to the barasingha (12 horned deer), and our superb luck continued as we came upon a group of them sunning themselves in an open meadow, as if parading for a National Geographic photo-shoot. Other animals that you are likely to come across are various groups of antlers (cheetal, sambhar, chousingha and barking deer – the last look more like street dogs!), bisons, wild boars and of course, langurs (you can see them peering longingly at your food from outside the windows of the dining cottage). The park is also known for the nilgai, the leopard (we waited in vain to see one), sloth bear and dhol (wild dog) – we came across a pack of the last polishing off their kill a few hundred meters from our cottage.

There are also wonderful opportunities for bird lovers – some birds we sighted that you don’t see in cities were the blue jay, the rocket tailed drongo, the junglefowl (we even saw one fly!) and the brainfever bird (heard, not sighted). We also came across a kite hunt for its prey and several egrets by the ponds.

Apart from the safaris, the Kisli gate has an excellent nature’s trail that you can walk or cycle - watch our for the tiger and leopard pugmarks! A wildlife film is also screened here every evening. The Kanha museum in the middle of the jungle is an excellent source of information on the park’s inhabits.

On our second day at the Park, there was a light shower in the evening – although the thunderstorm that preceded it made us think we would be flooded in for the next week (sigh, wishful thinking). But then, every sight and sound in the wild is on a grandiloquent scale. I had a great time getting wet in the rain, trying to match step with a peacock as it strutted across the trees in front of our cottage. The thunderstorm did manage to break the park’s electricity pole though, and there was a sense of adventure in sitting out in the jungle in complete darkness with only the blanket of stars to guide you, hearing an occasional distress call from a cheetal or a leopard growl next to you (or so we imagined, as we ran into our cottage!).

The cottages are quite comfortable, given that you are located in the midst of the jungle in the heartland of India. Seven of us were comfortably accommodated in two clean and pleasant A/C Deluxe Rooms. The pricing, at a little over Rs.3,500 per person per night (Includes all meals, but excludes safari's) is quite reasonable for the peak season - the staff is also flexible when it comes to accommodating extra people in the room. They are also extremely helpful and courteous - they will entertain your requests for tea and coffee at odd hours with a smile. The manager is extremely knowledgeable about wildlife, and is an excellent source of information.

The food is definitely one of the highpoints of the resort, apart from the service and the location. The menu of simple Indian food (dal, veggies, and a non-item item) is extremely tasty and reminds you of the cooking in old Government guest houses. The only area where we could fault the cook was the deserts. There is also a decently equipped bar (they even had some red wine!) and happy hours in the evenings.

Our only grouse was with the safaris – the charges for these were higher than those published on the MP tourism website, and a lot of expenses were not disclosed upfront. Also, being the tourist season, a lot of local boys were being sent as jungle guides, instead of the trained forest staff. It would also have been nice to have a covered porch outside each cottage, especially for the hot summer months.

The best time to visit the park is the summer months, when the heat draws the animals to the watering holes. Do remember to carry comfortable cotton clothes (no denims, please), sunglasses, caps and sunscreen, and a good pair of binoculars. Our manager told us that Dec to Jan are also great for sighting the barasingha – apparently its antlers are in full splendor during these mating months (the antlers are shed every year after this season) – but the temperature touches sub zero levels then.

Don't you believe in God?

Two ladies came knocking at my parents’ door this morning, distributing a leaflet about a talk by some holy man. Very politely, I declined, but the ladies did not take kindly to it. Why can’t you take it – demanded one loudly. I don’t need it – I replied, still polite. Don’t you believe in God??– she demanded in an accusing tone, even more loudly. What I believe or not believe is my business, I don’t ask you about your beliefs, so spare me mine - I replied, matching her tone this time. With a shake of her head, she went off.

Why is everyone so bent on making you believe in Parmatma – the One? Everyone from the stranger at the door to my own mother is upset with my Godlessness, even when, pardon my French, its no bloody business of theirs? If God does exist, I’m sure he doesn’t need the vote of someone who is skeptical about his existence to keep him in business – he enjoys an absolute majority anyways. Why then are his followers so caught up with not only convincing you about his existence, but also the superiority of their God, be he Hindu or Christian or Muslim or Jew? After all, I don’t go accusing people of God-ness when they choose to hook up un-authorized loudspeakers late into the night for a ‘paath’ (holy reading), or when they kill other people (many of whom are God-believers, incidentally) in the name of their God, and then think a holy dip in a freezing river or a grand yagna or pilgrimage will wipe clean all their sins (a belief perpetuated by the holy men who benefit by such ceremonies).

I do not feel compelled to convince people to not believe in God - one’s beliefs are a matter of personal choice, insofar as they do not violate the right of others to life and freedom. And not believing in a God is not the same as not having faith. True faith comes from within, and does not need to be shouted about, or killed for. If I can respect a believer even though I may not understand her, why is my *Godlessness* such a matter of discomfort for her?

Armchair Cricketing

Much as we malign our cricketers, no one gives them credit for their vital contribution to India's rising economy. Journalists and TV channels can continue their lazy coverage of non-topics by analyzing India's performance or non-performance with plump spaghetti-clad starlets and anyone who has seen a bat (not necesarily the cricketing one). Politicians get another non-issue of which they have no clue to debate about in the 20 minutes in a year that they actually attend Parliament. Company and agency ad-honchos have ample opportunity to exercise their creativity by trying to decide the optimal combination of cricketers in a single ad and whether they should be pictured in their playing fatigues or otherwise. And the public gets to eat food that comes straight from the kitchen of Sachin and Tendulkar - talk about a double whammy.

And of course, we also win an occasional home series, for those really interested in the game.

In India, everyone and their bai (not to be confused with bhai, the kindly Big Bro who, alongwith BCCI, ensures sustained interest in cricket worldwide at great personal and financial risk) has an opinion on cricket. So it is too tempting for me to not say my two-taka about the Great Indian Cricketing Non-Show. Here goes -

The BCCI has completed its assessment of the poor performance of the Indian cricket team in the World Cup, and come up with some radical suggestions for a make-over of Indian Cricket & Company (ICC):

Vandana Luthra, the owner of one of the largest slimming and beauty clinics in the country, will be the new coaching agency for the team. Luthra’s staff will provide special grooming and beauty treatments to the players, with special pre-shoot ‘glow’ packages. VLCC will provide these services free of cost – in return, the players will be the new brand ambassadors for the chain. The hottest selling item in Luthra’s bouquet is expected to be the Sehwag Special, which is targeted at balding middle agers who have trouble distinguishing their waist from their stomach. Confidential sources tell us that a special make-over for BCCI Chief Sharad Pawar is also planned.

Acknowledging that new talent is needed in Indian cricket, the BCCI has declared an annual Mr. World-Cricketer pageant, which, like the Fairina Miss India, will be sponsored by the Timespass Group. In an attempt to draw young talent, the contest will carry an age restriction of 45 years. The BCCI will also invest in a chain of World Cup Salons all over the country to groom candidates, and is planning to hire Salman Khan, Mandira Bedi and Navjot Singh Sidhu as Special Advisors. Tie-ups with Indian Idol, Jhalak Dikhla Jaa and other reality shows are also being explored.

BCCI has also decided to petition the International Cricket Council (ICC-2) for a change in the cricketing format. Under the new format, a team will be allowed only upto 30 runs through ‘running between the wicket’, and an individual player will not be permitted more then 10 such runs. The top five batsmen of a team will be prohibited from running between the wicket. BCCI officials have used a scientific approach to arrive at these numbers – an analysis of singles and doubles made by Indian batsmen over the past 5 years.

Said a top BCCI Official – We are stung by criticism that the Indian batsmen are unable to make singles and always go for un-necessary big shots. Feedback collected by us (from current and former cricketers) indicate that no one wants to watch two aging, de-motivated and over-hyped men running between two pieces of wood. And you know we as a country dislike hard work when short cuts are available. We realized that the game needs a radical makeover, and it is up to India to seize the money, err, I mean, momentum.

The Board has also responded positively to criticism about composition of the Selection Committee. Henceforth, only politicians, mafia lords and small time Marwari businessmen will be drafted into the Selection Committee. A special quota has been set up for politicians with police cases pending against them. This will help bring more professionalism into the art of fielding and arm twisting, said a senior Board official.

Meanwhile, the Indian cricket team and its management (15 team members with families, 100 staff with family, neighbours and their friends) is preparing for a whirlwind site seeing tour of the West Indies (we had booked for post Super-Eight stage, and it’s really difficult getting five-star bookings now – said an exasperated official). The boys are really looking forward to unwinding after all the hard work, remarked Greg Chappell, the Indian coach.

In a minor development, the BCCI has been rechristened Board of Cash (and Cricket) Control in India, and has elected Sharad Pawar as its first life-time President. A new selection committee consisting of Lalu Prasad Yadav, Pappu Yadav, Mulayam Singh Yadav and Amar Singh has also been appointed. A Senior Board official said that they were awaiting acceptances from Narender Modi and Arjun Singh.

Post Script:
Sachin Tendulkar, who was planning a third restaurant chain called Sachin Tendulkar’s, after Sachin's and Tendulkars, has launched a nationwide talent hunt for a new name for the restaurant. We recommend Shhhhot

Last Night - A Tale

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly in the desert, moves the breeze,
As, to a sick man, with cause, comes peace.

Raat yun dil mein teri khoyi huyi yaad aayi
Jaise veerane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaaye
Jaise sehraaon mein haulay se chale baade e nadeem
Jaise beemar ko bewajah karaar aa jaye

-Last Night by Vikram Seth, translated from the Urdu of Faiz Ahmad Faiz

I

Happy Diwali, jaan !

He woke up to the fragrance of halwa wafting in from the kitchen, the sweetness suspended in the air, mingled with the scent of bitter almonds…just like the smell of oft-visited memories that you wish you could forget.

Diwali was when he had last spoken to her. She said that she was driving, no actually, waiting for the traffic light to turn green, when he had called . He heard her pick up the phone, then a Shit, then the phone was disconnected - she probably recognized his home number just as she pressed the ‘Answer’ key. He persisted, and as he had expected, she relented and picked up the phone the fifth time. Happy Diwali – he had murmured. Happy Diwali – she replied brightly. Only he would have recognized the false cheerfulness in the voice. How are you? I am driving, let me call you back – she had said, using his aversion to talking while driving as her excuse.

Of course she hadn’t called back. He kept on waiting throughout the party, even leaving the phone switched on till the last moment as he boarded his flight. She had surprised him for once.

So those were the last words they had spoken. Last words to last a lifetime of absence. Nothing grand, when you think about it. But then, reality is seldom as dramatic as we would like it to be. It is the mundane and everyday occurrences that create the real drama in life.

He smiled as he kissed his wife of five years. Happy Diwali, he whispered. There is no going back, he thought. Only an eternity of looking back.


***************************************

Somewhere within your loving look I sense,
Without the least intention to deceive,
Without suspicion, without evidence,
Somewhere within your heart the heart to leave.

- Interpretation, Quatrains by Vikram Seth

II

She typed in the first two alphabets of the name, then stopped. Why are you doing this? –admonished an inner voice. That chapter ended years ago. Keep on scratching an open wound and it never heals, and you have only yourself to blame. Life has moved on, and so should you.

Besides, didn’t you tell him yourself, in no uncertain words, to stay out of your life for ever?

Yes I did, she thought. But I wonder how much of it I really meant, and did I really mean for ever? The hurting words were the only way I had to express the hurt I felt inside. Pity that fleeting words and actions are taken to be a permanent expression of your thoughts and intentions.

She finished typing the name, but the fingers lingered…what I am letting myself in for, she thought? But I wonder where he is, how he is, what he is doing ….She took a deep breath, and pressed Enter.

There was a brief write-up, and a picture. He was growing a beard now – the kind that was sported by wannabe-kool-dudes or the creative-types during her college days. Funny, for he was neither. The wife had a pretty smile, and a possessive hand on his arm. And there were two little children. The boy had inherited his big brown eyes, the girl his frown as she peered into the camera.

Maybe Pandora’s pithos is best left unopened, maybe some wounds never heal.

***************************************
If you had known…if I had known…ah well,
We played our cards so suavely, who could tell?
Ten years ago, so suavely, with such pain…
And, being wise, will do so once again.

-Reunion, by Vikram Seth