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
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
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
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
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