Attitude

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The day we became World Champions

Much water has flowed under the Howrah Bridge since the events that I’m about to narrate. Yet, it is a story which must be told. It is the story of how India overcame Pakistan in the finals of the ICC Twenty20 cup to become World Champions.

Let that sink in… India - World Champions. I had to keep pinching myself when India recently played a Twenty20 international against Australia at Mumbai and the commentator very proudly announced, “Australia are playing against the world champions!” Now that is something you don’t hear very often and I felt particularly proud to be an Indian at that point in time.

But let me get back to where I originally started this post. Let me recount the events as they happened on that fateful day.

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24th September 2007

It is a dark and wet Monday evening in Calcutta as India takes on Pakistan in the finals of the Twenty20 World Cup at the Bull Ring at Johannesburg. Ravi, Harsh and I make our way to The Ordnance Club to enjoy the game on their flat screen TV. We are in a noisy dining room at the club and the table in front of us is filled with all the food that we have ordered: two pots of tea, cheese grilled sandwiches, a plate of paneer tikka, masala chips and Coke.

Harsh and I keep munching at a regular pace even though we are hypnotized by the match. Ravi, being his usual self, sips his tea in a manner which would’ve fooled you into believing that he was a MCC member having his cuppa on a bright Sunday morning at Lord’s where Somerset was playing Kent.

By the time the 19th over of the Pakistan innings gets over, Harsh and I can barely keep sitting. We are at the end of this long dining hall and thankfully so, because we both just keep pacing in tension. If there had been guests seated behind us they would certainly have been up in arms.

Last over and 13 runs required. Dhoni hands over the ball to Joginder Sharma who, let’s accept it, at his pace doesn’t really put the fear of the Lord into you. I look up at Harsh and he has this very nervous smile on his face, as if telling me, ‘Oh Dear!’ With a deep breath, I turn to look at the TV.

Wide.

Darn!! What the hell was Joginder doing??!! You already have a Misbah-ul-Haq at the crease who in the previous India-Pakistan encounter had almost pulled off an incredible win for his team. In any case, he’s also one of the biggest six hitters of the tournament with that massive 111m hit (only to be outdone by Yuvraj Singh’s monstrous 119m six). And then you bowl a wide to make it only 12 runs required to win the match and the trophy?!!

Dhoni runs up to Joginder and it seems whatever he’s told him has worked since the next ball is a dot ball, although it was outside the off stump and very lucky not to be called a wide.

I breathe easy for a moment…only just.

Joginder bowls the next ball and Misbah shuffles across his stumps and hits the ball high in the air. For a moment I’m hopeful that some Indian fielder at long on will get under it and take the catch. But all my prayers seem to have come undone when Ravi Shastri screams, “This is six! It’s a magnificent strike!”

Gosh! How could this have happened? We had almost won it…how could Misbah do this to us…again? Will he make amends for his mistake at Durban? Will he really pull it off this time? My mind is buzzing with possible scenarios, not all of them positive for India.

The dining hall has gone very silent…the only sound that can be heard is of the cutlery striking against each other. Even the waiters and stewards have been struck by horror as they stare at the TV screen and forget to take orders. What orders? Even the diners are staring dumb-struck.

Disappointed, I look at Harsh. The story is written all over his face: only one big hit and Pakistan could win this. Harsh shakes his head as he looks at me, his nonchalant smile vanished. I don’t know what to do and look at the floor. I turn to Ravi, but the idiot is happily sipping his tea and looking as if somebody has just paused reading ‘Alice In Wonderland’ to him. Nut!! How can someone NOT be affected by a tension situation like this? How can someone be so cool-headed? I shake my head in wonder.

Pakistan need 6 runs to win and have 4 balls of the last over to do it in. The only worrying factor, if there is any in the Pakistani camp at the moment, is that this is their last pair at the wicket.

Joginder runs up to deliver his next ball. Misbah tries to get cheeky by walking across the stumps and loops the ball up in the air behind the wicket.

OH MY GOD!! Is this the moment which will haunt our nightmares forever? Has Misbah just become the Javed Miandad for this new generation of Indian cricketers and Indian cricket lovers?

But wait a minute! There’s a man underneath it…and it is Sreesanth. Sreesanth, the man who can reduce to mockery his tremendous talent by letting his emotions take control of him. ‘Oh God, please, please let Sreesanth take the catch!’

Sreesanth fumbles slightly…but finally manages to hold on to the ball!!

THAT’S IT!! India has won!!!!! INDIA HAS WON THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!!! We are the CHAMPIONS… We have been crowned kings!!

The hall at Ordnance Club erupts with middle-aged pot bellied uncles jumping in joy and banging their beer glasses. High-society aunties scream and clap their hands in glee, all the while making sure their silk sarees are not out of place.

I jump and shout with joy!! I look at Harsh, whose reaction has been much the same as mine. I rush up to him and we hug each other and continue jumping while screaming ‘Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!’ My heart hasn’t beaten this hard in quite a while. We just can’t stop the momentum and keep jumping and shouting.

We pause to look at Ravi. He is still sitting in his stupid chair, grinning at us and clapping. ‘This is not the moment to sit and applaud like a Lord, you idiot. Be an Indian….SCREAM!!!’ Both Harsh and I run up to him, pull him up, and embrace him as well and then start jumping around in a huddle, much like the huddle that the Indian team is now getting into.

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I write this down because this is one moment of unimaginable joy for me as an Indian cricket fan. This moment will be one which we will remember the rest of our lives, much like our fathers remember the exact moment when Kapil Dev lifted the Prudential Cup at Lords.

---------------- Now playing: Amit Kumar & Chorus - Dekha Jo Tujhe Yaar via FoxyTunes

Durga Puja

This is how we celebrated Durga Puja in Kolkata over the last weekend.




The Ray Street Puja Pandal.




The Chakraberia (Trikoniya Park) Puja Pandal.

Nicknames - II

So when I said 'I hope I haven't overlooked any nicknames'...see what I missed out !!!!

i) Pran-nath: Motee !!! I’ll never forgive you for this one.

ii) Shark: Tushar (my room-mate during my 2^nd year of college), myself and Mini are great friends. And one of the many things that binds us together are the nick-names that we gifted each other…Mini gifted me the title of ‘Shark’, I gifted her the title of ‘Dolphin’ and we both together gifted Tushar the title of ‘Whale’. A few more friends like us, and the world would resemble an aquarium.

iii) Philip Pirrip / Pip : Those of you who have experienced the beautiful agony of studying Charles Dickens’ ‘Great Expectations’ during your school-life would know what this is all about. But for the benefit of those who haven’t suffered the slings and arrows of time when you had to memorise the description of Miss Havisham’s unkempt room, I shall explain.

Philip Pirrip (better known as Pip) is the central character of Charles’ Dickens fabulous piece of literature titled ‘Great Expectations’. He has a great friend named Herbert Pocket, who, like Pip, has the habit of falling into debts with alarming regularity. What is most lovable about both of them is that well knowing that they shall repeat their mistakes the next time they have cleared off their previous dues, they keep looking at their accounts at the end of each month and consoling each other with the words, “We must do something about this.” Obviously, come the next month and they’re again knee-deep in debt.

Prashant Chaturvedi and I have had a similar brush of experiences when it came to preparing for our college examinations. Both of us knew that the other fellow was moderately intelligent and is deserving of much better marks than the report card ever cared to show. However, before each exam, Prashant and I used to wonder how we, as a rule, always managed to postpone our studies for the last minute before examinations only to realise too late that it was hopeless to even try to begin studying barely 48 hours before an examination. And, oh yes, we also told each other the famous words… “We must do something about this.” That fateful day onwards, I’ve referred to him as Herbert and he has called me Pip.

P.S. Recently, I had to make a call to Prashant. I was desperately searching my mobile phone address book for his name but couldn’t find it. Only after about ten minutes did it strike me that I was looking for the wrong name; I had saved his number under the name Herbert.

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Now playing: Ganpat
via FoxyTunes

Nicknames

The other day, I was wondering by how many different names people have called me in the two and a half decades of my existence on this planet.


The Usual

1. Shekhar-aa - Considering that this is perhaps the simplest 'Indian' way to contort my name, I'm surprised (and relieved) that very few people have used this one. The only person that comes to mind is one school buddy called Thyagarajan Krishnamurthy (called TK throughout his school-life, more for simplicity's sake than anything else).

2. Shekhar-va - Again, not many takers for what one would have thought to be a popular take on my name. The most recent culprit? A female named Avanti.

3. Shekhu - Used by numerous people over the years. Most recently, and frequently, used by Shubhra.


The Not-So-Usual

1. Smarty - Perhaps the first nick-name that I ever got!! ~grins~ I was in class 1, and by far the most outspoken character in a class full of 30 yelling children. The Hindi teacher realised that someone who, at such a young age, had the ability to be heard in the midst of a din like that deserved to be called no less than 'Smarty'.

2. Jai - During my first year of MBA, as I sincerely (ahem) strained to listen to every word spoken by the prof., the non-stop chatter originating from the lady on my right convinced me that I should call her 'Basanti'. Amitabh Bachchan (may his tribe increase) must've hiccuped a million-times the day our lady retorted by calling my 'Jai'.

3. Mr. 3 pointer - What can I say?? I'm just brilliant when it comes to bungling up studies...and then recovering brilliantly (I remember failing a history test in the first term of class 4... determined to show my worth, I remember topping the history exams for the rest of the year). MBA was a bit like taking an old Padmini Fiat out of the garage and going cross-country driving... till such time I decided that I wanted to be on the F1 circuit racing alongside Schumacher in a McLaren. Come the last term of MBA and I decided to put the cynics to rest. I studied like crazy and ended up becoming what every geek in b-school dreams of becoming: a 3-pointer! Mini couldn't believe I'd pulled off such a miraculous feat...she's called me Mr. 3 Pointer since...

4. Hindustan Ki Awaaz - The juniors at my b-school were doing a parody of 'Mughal-e-Azam'. Somebody was needed for the voice-over of 'Hindustan Ki Awaaz'; the fella who in the original talks about how Akbar was one of the best kings that India ever had. The juniors asked me if I would do the honours in the parody, and I willingly agreed. When my name came up at the end, most people in the audience (faculty included) were surprised to know that 'Hindustan Ki Awaaz' was courtesy Second Year, Section B, Roll No. 50.

5. Rambo - For further details, please contact Arpz, the conferrer of the honour.

6. Mommy - ~sighs~ Motee insists I always had a motherly aura around me.

7. Goo-Gaa Smile - Not exactly a nick-name, as much as a caption for a pic of me as a baby. I'll never be able to thank Rose enough for this. :D


I hope I haven't overlooked any... Let's see what other nick-names are bestowed upon me in the future.

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Now playing: R.D.Burman - Sholay Intro Theme
via FoxyTunes

Reverse Motivation

Sometimes, the best thing that can happen to you is getting pi**ed off.

Imagine...

You've been trying hard to get something done for a while now. And it has been irritating you no end that you haven't been able to achieve your goal. You know that all you need to do is step up your game one last bit... Push yourself to the limit... Stretch your hands that one inch further.

But you just can't do it. No matter what you try, no matter how much you try to psych yourself up... YOU JUST CAN'T DO IT.

In such circumstances, perhaps the best thing that could happen to you is getting pi**ed off. And when I say pi**ed off.. I mean REALLY, REALLY PI**ED OFF !!

Let that nagging feeling get under your skin and take your sleep away from you. Let your sleep be filled up with nightmares of failures...

and see what happens the next day!!

Sometimes, it is best to shed the "good boy" image...

Sometimes, it is best to get pi**ed off!

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Now playing: Fatboy Slim - Because We Can
via FoxyTunes

Unsatisfied

“I need more money,” he said. “I need to work harder and make more money. There are lots of things I need to buy, that I need to enjoy; and in order to fulfil my dreams,” he paused, and looked up at her, “I need money,” he ended, exhaling deeply.

She quietly looked at him for a few seconds before asking, “Will you ever be satisfied? Will you ever have enough?” The tinge of irritation was all too apparent.

“NEVER!!” he barked back. “I shall never have enough. The sole reason why humans were placed on earth was so that they are never satisfied. It is foolish to think of being satisfied. Look around you. The world today is what it is because man over centuries has remained unsatisfied. The moment we become satisfied with our surroundings, with whatever we have achieved, all progress will come to a screeching halt. Don’t be greedy, but stay unsatisfied.”

She was overcome by the force of his argument, and his fiery gaze. She lowered her eyes and quietly walked away.

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Now playing: Pink Floyd - Money
via FoxyTunes

The Serenity Prayer

In my post "A Change in Attitude...and Fortunes", I had presented a slightly belligerent, albeit restrained and respectful, attitude of the speaker.

However, what put things in perspective was Ravi's comment. "It's not just one way traffic." Although he seemed to be more in agreement with me, I was somehow reminded of The Serenity Prayer. And I do not know why but I prefer only the shorter version of the prayer, which goes thus...

THE SERENITY PRAYER

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

If we were to remind ourselves of this simple prayer before every major decision, I'm sure we would bring about a whole lot of maturity into our decision making.

Amitabh speaks Angreji

Namak Halaal (1982) is one of my favorite Amitabh Bachchan movies. In many way, this is a typical '80s Hindi film. This Prakash Mehra film had all the elements of a blockbuster then (and even now, perhaps). Comedy, drama, love, songs, murder, good-wins-over-evil...

And a stellar star-cast to boost. Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor, Waheeda Rehman, Parveen Babi, Smita Patil, Om Puri and Ranjeet.

The following scene from the film is brilliant because Amitabh, the superstar, decides he will make himself a buffoon. He isn’t scared to make the paying audience laugh at his expense. (In fact, he's already done so earlier in the film, when he does the 'Pag ghunghroo baandh Meera naachi thi' number).

The scene unfolds thus. Amitabh, the country bumpkin, has come to the city to get a job. His friend has put in a word to the manager of the hotel (Ranjeet). But in order to impress him further, the friend advises Amitabh to speak like a champion and thereby impress the manager. Amitabh, the village simpleton, takes this advise most seriously and proceeds to try and impress Ranjeet.

The following is a transcript of the scene. I tried searching for the transcript on the Net, but couldn’t find a single site where the transcript was correct to the letter. So, I downloaded the scene and played it over and over again to write down the dialogues bit-by-bit. The result is well worth the effort, I feel.

Here we go…

[Amitabh and his friend enter the hotel manager’s (Ranjeet’s) chamber]

Ranjeet (to Amitabh’s friend): Oye, tumhara dimaag kharaab ho gaya hai, yeh kis cheez (points at Amitabh) ko le aaye ho tum?

Amitabh: Lo kallo baat. Babuji, hum cheej nahin hain. Maara naam Arjun Singh vald Bhim Singh vald Dasrath Singh hai. Lakhanpur gaav ke rehne waale hain, Inter pass hain, gaav mein sabse avval number aaye the. Maare gaav mein, maare daddu aur main hi sabse zyada padhe hain, baaki koi chauthi pass nahin hai. Shaher main aane se pehle maare daddu ne humko teen baatein sikhayi…pehli baat, paraayi aurat aur paraayi daulat pe haath nahin rakhna, haan. Doosri baat, jiska namak khao uski namak halaali karna. Teesri baat, anyay ke saamne sar nahi jhukaana. Bolo, maare daddu ne theek kaha ki nahi kaha??

Ranjeet: Tumhaare daddu ne bilkul sahi kaha. Ab tum sheher mein aaye ho, aise hi baatein karoge ya tumhe English vagera bhi aati hai?

Amitabh: Lo kallo baat ! Arre babuji aisi English aave that I can leave Angrej behind!! You see sir, I can talk English, I can walk English, I can laugh English because English is a very funny language.

Bhairon becomes Baron and Baron becomes Bhairon because their minds are very narrow. In the year nineteen hundred and twenty nine sir, when India was playing against Australia in Melbourne city, Vijay Merchant and Vijay Hazare they were at the crease and Vijay Merchant told Vijay Hazare, “Look Vijay Hazare, this is a very prestigious match and you must consider this match very carefully.” So, considering the consideration that Vijay Hazare gave Vijay Merchant, Vijay Merchant told Vijay Hazare that, “Ultimately we must take a run.” And when they were striking the ball on the leg side, sir, the consideration became into an ultimatum and ultimately Vijay Hazare went to Vijay Merchant and…”

An exasperated Ranjeet, who has been drowned into silence by this volley of English from Amitabh, shouts: OH SHUT UP !!!

Amitabh continues: …similarly, sir, in the year nineteen hundred and seventy nine when India was playing against Pakistan in Wankhede stadium, Bombay, Wasim Raja and Wasim Bari they were at the crease, and Wasim Bari gave the same consideration to Wasim Raja and Wasim Raja told Wasim Bari, “Look, sir, this ultimately has to end in a consideration which I cannot consider. Therefore, the consideration that you’re giving me must be considered very ultimately.” Therefore the run that they were taking, Wasim Raja told Wasim Bari, “Wasim Bari, you take a run.” And ultimately both of them ran and considerately they got OUT !!!

Thanks to shrenik3 for the video clip.
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Now playing: Deewaar Intro
via FoxyTunes

Cricket and Hollywood

Is it just me or does Kepler Wessels actually look a bit like Charlton Heston?

Kepler Wessels

Charlton Heston

A Change in Attitude…and Fortunes

She: Why did you have to do that? You must learn to adjust to the circumstances and accept things as they are.

He: Sorry, I disagree with you. If we continue to accept things – to adjust to the circumstances, then circumstances are only going to stay as harmful as they already are, if not get worse.

Moreover, what’s the use of a brain if we are to only ‘accept things as they are’…we might as well be brute animals. It is up to you to decide whether you want to be a product of your environment or you want the environment around you to be a product of you.

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Now playing: Roobaroo
via FoxyTunes

Twenty20: A Bowler’s Game

Anybody who saw Chris Gayle and Herschelle Gibbs plonk the white ball to all parts of The Wanderers stadium at Johannesburg on Tuesday night might want to disagree with the title of this post. Let me explain why I respectfully disagree.

The thought struck me when I heard Ian Chappell mention a basic fact of the game, viz. a good batsman is a good batsman, period. Likewise, I thought, a good bowler is a good bowler, period.

It doesn’t matter if he (the bowler) is hit for many more runs in a particular over as compared to what he would have been hit for in a ODI or a Test match. What has changed is the definition of a good over. Whereas in a 50 overs game, a good over was one where the batsman could not score more than 4 or a maximum of 5 runs, in the 20 overs version of the game, this will become 7 to 8 runs.

This is where the bowler’s skill comes in to play. He now has to be more cunning than ever and use the sleight of hand in order to ensure variations in line, length and the pace at which he bowls. And that can get him great results, like it happened for Daren Powell who had figures of 4 overs, no maidens, 3 wickets for 4 runs in a warm-up game.

I disagree with those who say it is purely a batsman’s game. If the game has become uni-dimensional for anybody, it is for the batsman. All he has to do is think about tonking the next ball out of the park.

Yesterday, of course, it was great fun watching Zimbabwe beat Australia in a nail-biting finish. I couldn’t get to see the Australian innings, but the highlights package showed what a good fielding side the Zimbabweans were. They had thrown themselves at everything and had taken some good catches in the outfield, an area where, I am sad to note, India hasn’t done well of late.

Pros of Twenty20:

- Weaker-looking teams can do well in matches against ‘stronger’ opposition, since there is very little time for the ‘stronger’ team to recover if they fumble even once.

Cons of Twenty20:

- Watching the inaugural match (South Africa vs. West Indies) gave me a headache, what with so many sixes being hit, so much noise and very little time, as a viewer, to grasp the nuances of the game. [I know some might argue that this is a sure sign of ageing, but then…]

- Too many girls wearing bright-red sports bras (I don’t care what they’re said to be, they look like sports bras) and bum-hugging short chaddis while shaking their things on TV. Watching Twenty20 at home might be a problem.

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Now playing: Sukhvinder Singh - Chak de India
via FoxyTunes

'SHARK' tag

If Houdini were alive, methinks he would have hopped on to the next flight to Calcutta, driven down to my house and have personally congratulated me for having done my disappearing act over the last few days. I haven’t been online of late and have been careful / silly enough to have neglected the phone to miss calls from friends. Just as well that I haven’t been shaving over the last couple of days - my beard *might* help me to escape unharmed. I say this since a couple of weeks ago, I met a school-friend after a gap of 6 years, and he recognised me without any trouble at all as he said my “face is just like it was back in class 12”.

In other words, I might be closing in on 25, but I still have the face of a 18 year old. Hmm…

Well, I have been busy reading books (I have already completed two in the last two days and am on the verge of finishing a third), watching movies (almost 6 in the last 4 days) and the CDs of the old TV program ‘Chanakya’ (remember Chandraprakash Dwivedi as the wily and astute professor of politics at Takshila University who single-handedly brings down the Nanda empire?).

Anyway, just as I find out that Motee has tagged me, it turns out she has also tagged Arpz who, in turn, has also tagged me!! Talk about being in favour with the ladies. ~proudly pats himself on the back~

Enough of wayside talk, on with the tag.

THE RULES

- Players, you must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of their middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
- When you are tagged you need to write your own blog-post containing your own middle name game facts.
- At the end of your blog-post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag.
- Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged.

THE TAG

Here’s the tag, as filled in by Shekhar ‘Shark’.

S – STORIES. As a child growing up in a building full of grown-ups, Mom introduced me to the world of books, and thereby, to the world of stories. Life has never been the same since then. Whether it is in the form of books, films or conversations over a cup of steaming hot tea, I love listening to (and sometimes, narrating) stories.

H – HERO. This might seem like an extended lecture on Vedanta, but ever since I read Swami Vivekananda’s works, I’m convinced that within each one of us there exists a hero and that it is our karmic duty to unleash this hero to the world.

A – AMBITIOUS. I am as ambitious as the guy living next door to you. I too make up lists of things to be achieved and deadlines by when they should be achieved. Achieving them is where, as the bard would remind us, lies the rub.

R – RAIN. There was a time I absolutely loved rains. I enjoyed going up to the window and watching droplets from heaven rushing down to kiss a planet that God so obviously loves. Even better would be taking a drive in the rains; I enjoyed the soft hum of the car AC as the rains washed the world which I passed by.

K – KOLKATA. (Before anyone raises their eyebrows, ‘Kolkata’ is in fact the official name now.) A city with which I have a love-hate relationship. There is much about the city that I adore, much that I miss when I’m away. At the same time, there are many memories, images, emotions which cause nothing else but pain.

~hat-tip to Mini~ If it weren’t for you, I would’ve never figured out that there lived a SHARK within. :)

And no, I don’t tag any one.

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Now playing: Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone - Original
via FoxyTunes

Memories

Last week, when this blog suddenly saw a flurry of posts, I missed out on another milestone that this blog went past.

Ladies and Gentlemen: This blog has now crossed 200 posts.

And this is post no. 202. :)

And since this blog, like any other diary/log book, is like a record for memories, both sweet and sour, I thought I would share a beautiful song with my readers.

Film: Yaadein
Director: Subhash Ghai
Lyrics: Anand Bakshi

Nagme hain, shikwe hain
Kisse hain, baatein hain

Baatein bhool jaati hain
Yaadein yaad aati hain

Yeh yaadein kisi dil-o-jaanam ke
Chal jaane ke baad aati hain

Yeh jeevan dil jaani, dariya ka hai paani
Paani to beh jaaye, baaqi kya reh jaaye

Yaadein, yaadein, yaadein

Duniya mein yun aana, duniya se yun jaana
Aao to le aana, jaao to de jaana

Yaadein, yaadein, yaadein

Translation:

There are melodies and there are complaints,
There are stories and then there are words.

Words are forgotten,
What remain are… MEMORIES.

Memories are all that remain
After a beloved person has left us.

This life, dear people, is like the waters of the river
The water flows on, what stays behind are…

MEMORIES

You come to this world and after some time, leave it.
When you come into this world, what you bring along with you...
And when you leave it, what you leave behind are…

MEMORIES

What a row

My good friend and I decided to go for a movie today. As we entered the semi-darkened hall, popcorn in hand, the usher guided us to our seats. “To the left, sixth row, first two seats from the aisle.”

As my friend and I walked down the stairs, I noticed that the row of seats to our left had just four seats in each row, as these were close to the left wall of the auditorium. My friend, who was a step ahead of me (Obviously! She wasn’t the one having to do a balancing trick with the popcorn paper bag which is always one size too small) walked to where our seats were and promptly seated herself in the seat next to the aisle.

“Hey, why don’t you occupy the next seat and I’ll take the aisle seat so that you won’t get disturbed every time someone walks by,” I said. Who said chivalry is a forgotten concept?

“No,” she replied promptly. “I’d much rather sit here, for you don’t know what kind of fellow occupies the seat next to us.”

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged and occupied the second seat from the aisle.

A minute later, two pretty looking young girls walk down to our row and gingerly walk past us to occupy the seats to my left.

“Thank YOU,” I whisper to my friend in glee. “You’re like my BEST FRIEND EVER..!” I promise her. My friend just chuckles at the stupid grin I have on my face.

~sigh~ Just too good to last, wasn’t it??

Not a minute has passed since I had showered praises on my friend when the sweet lady to my left turns around and asks me, “Err…what row is this? In fact, can I have a look at your ticket?”

Now, even before yours truly had an opportunity to enquire further into the nature of trouble that the pretty woman was having, and perhaps follow that concern with a friendly question of whether she and her friend would like to join me and my friend for lunch (which obviously would have ended in us having a great time together and realizing that we two shared the same interests and also that we thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, et al…you get the picture, don’t you?), my friend decided to proceed and display to the world at large how well her kindergarten teacher had taught her the alphabets of the English language.

“Row F,” she said. “This is row F.”

“OH!” says pretty-lady-to-the-left and motions to her friend. They both get up and walk right past us and seat themselves in the row behind us.

"Brilliant," I muttered to myself. "Just brilliant!!"

My friend couldn’t control her laughter for two minutes running even as I sat fuming.

How rude is that???

Cataloguing my personal library

It was not without a great deal of sadness that I told Motee about my Mom's latest declaration - "Thou shalt not buy any more books". And the reason is very simple, there ain't no more space in my room to keep books !!

It isn't as if my room resembles the grand hall of the National Library. It's just that the sweet and charming book-shelf above my erstwhile study table ("erstwhile", since there's very little studying happening nowadays and of course, there's the PC on top of the desk as well, leaving very little space for desk jobs) has absolutely no space to accommodate any more books. And because of this, of late, most of my books were being piled one on top of another.

This obviously led to a very frustrating time as a bibliophile. It is extremely irritating when one cannot keep track of all the books that one has at his disposal.

So today evening, I set out to at least iron out my troubles as far as cataloguing my books was concerned. I did the most obvious thing any b-schooler would've done...I Googled. And although the scientific methods of Dewey and the Library of Congress mentioned in the comments space of this page proved to be much more than what I needed for the handful of books that I have, the range of comments and the various manners of cataloguing books (both scientific and the not so scientific) did help me in coming up with a strategy, keeping in mind the limited space resource that I have.

I proceeded to lay out all my books on the bed and as I separated the fiction from the non-fiction ones, I entered the names of the books and the respective authors into a spreadsheet on my laptop. Once this was done, I arranged my non-fiction books into categories such as 'business', 'philosophy', 'religion', 'cinema' etc. As for the fiction books, I decided I didn't want to get into anything fancy right now and just arrange them in alphabetical order, first by the name of the author and then by the name of the books.

Two and a half hours after I started this labour of love, I had achieved quite a few things.

1) Most of my books have been neatly arranged in the same book-shelf that I, not so long ago, thought incapable of holding as many books.

2) I have been able to separate the "books" from the old text-books (reminders of my school life) and the various editions of the Readers' Digest.

3) A 'database' of books has now been created which shall help me in keeping me informed of all the books that I have and those which I have lent out to friends.

4) The greatest reward for cataloguing my books has been that now I have a fair idea of the next few books that I want to buy. For instance, I realized that I have very few books on cinema and cricket. Also, there are a lot many more classics that I want to read.

All in all, the back-breaking exercise seems to have paid off. At the end of the day, I'm a happy bibliophile.

Now, if only I could figure out a way to convince Mum that I should buy more books. Hmm...

Tata Crucible Quiz 2007 at Kolkata

On a day when I’m dead tired, I don’t know what it is that is keeping me awake. Perhaps it is because I am just so excited going over and over the gifts and merchandise that I won at the Kolkata edition of the Annual Tata Crucible Quiz.

Yes, you heard that right. An individual like me who must’ve set some sort of a record for not having browsed through a pink paper or a business magazine in the last few months actually managed to intelligently *ahem* guess my way through a couple of rounds of a tough quizzing contest.

It all began a few weeks ago when Rahul, a colleague at work, brought to my notice that the Tata Crucible Quiz was about to be held in the city. The plan was very simple. We two would put on our best Sunday clothes and answer as many questions as we knew (or, as we thought we knew).

Come today afternoon, our team managed to answer quite a few questions (11 or 12 out of the 25 asked) in the preliminary round and were pleasantly surprised to find that we had qualified as one of the 6 top teams for the regional finals.

Once on stage, however, the nerves set in. We let a couple of questions go past us, only to find out later that our guesses would’ve been correct. Darn!!!

Yet, the indomitable spirit of the heroes within refused to give in without a fight. We punched our way right back into the quiz with a couple of rapid answers in the last round, only to stop an agonizing 5 points behind the runners-up.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day, we got our share of the booty, and I was mighty pleased I didn’t sleep this Sunday afternoon away. What’s more, the compilation of speeches and letters of JRD Tata is a wonderful gift and I’m going to cherish the leather-bound books for a long, long time (not to mention the other cool stuff that I got, including a 1GB pen-drive and a travel bag. I initially didn't plan on mentioning the spoils of the day, but hey, it's not everyday that you get to do well in a quiz, do you?)

(Me and Rahul Srigyan cherishing the moments of The Tata Crucible Quiz 2007)

Subtraction by carry-over method

On Wednesday, I met up with my sister for a cup of coffee at the Barista outlet on Camac Street. The last time I met her, she still looked like a kid. Somehow, this time she seemed more mature. On my saying so, she just smiled and told me that it wasn’t maturity that was showing on her face, it was just that she had aged considerably since the last time we met.

Well documented references to emotional outbursts of the female species on uncomplimentary remarks about beauty and ageing started shooting around my head. In a classic reference to the movie 300, I told myself “Choose your next words carefully, for they may well be your last.”

Fortunately, the crisis was past even as I gulped and thankfully noted the absence of ancient wells which looked more like holes in the ground. My sister just looked at me and said, “This is because of the job that I’ve taken up.”

“Hey,” I said. “How tough could it be to teach mathematics to children of classes 1, 2 and 3?”

Turns out, its quite a handful. Apparently, the laws of subtraction by carry-over method are confusing to the simplified world of kids. My sister proceeded to fill me in on how she managed to break down the task and first involve the kids in practicing the subtraction by carry-over method for 2-digit numbers and then gently progress to the demonic 3-digit numbers.

And it is not as if the kids are without their share of naughtiness. “I get eve-teased by 8 year olds,” my sis giggled. On the recently conducted Independence Day festivities, 5 or 6 of these Lilliputians surrounded my sis and started going around in circles, shouting their young throats dry while singing “Nanna munna raahi hoon…”; a song my sister had taught them only a couple of days ago.

Sleeping Woes

I’ve often wondered what the correct method of sleeping is. It might seem to be the simplest thing to do, but then again, there can be so many complications.

First of all, there is the whole issue of which position to lie down in. There is the famous Baba Ramdev promoted manner of lying down on the left side of the body, with your knees slightly bent. Others say that at the time of sleeping, there should be no pressure applied on the stomach, and hence the best position to sleep in is on your back. Then there are others, like me, who don’t give a care to what the world says and just collapse on the bed when going off to sleep and hence, spend the night lying on the stomach. In fact, most of the times, when I wake up in the morning, I’m usually in the classic ‘dead man’s pose’, my hand and legs spread out, as if waiting for a detective to come and draw a chalk-line around the outline of my body.

Then there is the issue of the duration of sleep. Some say that 6 hours of sleep is the ideal amount. The latest issue of a leading national magazine says experts recommend 8 hours of sleep, failing which the body tends to accumulate ‘lost sleeping hours’, thereby having an irritated nervous system. Tell that to Chanakya, who advised that a king should sleep only for 4 hours each night.

A related issue is the hour at which one should go off to sleep. You see, if one wishes to wake up each morning at 6 (given that the individual is a normal working guy who wishes to reach office by 9), then in order to have completed 8 hours of sleep, he needs to go off to sleep each night at 10. Now, given the lifestyle led by most people that I know, not to mention myself, going off to sleep at 10 is an extremely optimistic notion. But, according to the coaching manual of Charles Atlas, the famous bodybuilder, there ain’t nothing better than going off to sleep at 10. In fact, he goes so far as to say that every hour of sleep before midnight is worth twice as much as every hour slept after midnight. Hmm…

And now, the most important issue to be tackled; the last thoughts before you go off to sleep.

It is surprising how few people I know who actually make it a point to say their prayers in bed before turning in for the night. The most famous image that comes to mind is, of course, that of Dennis ‘The Menace’ Mitchell saying his innocent and full of boyish-mischief prayers.

Another interesting idea came to be a few nights ago when I received a SMS from a friend. We had met up earlier in the day and the meeting had been full of the usual childish efforts of getting one-up on the other, as is the norm when you meet up with childhood friends. Anyway, she messaged me to say that she wanted to apologize for any harsh words she might have said to me during our banter. After mildly scolding her for even thinking she might have offended me, I asked her what made her think about the incident at that unearthly hour. She said she was about to go off to sleep and was just recalling the day’s events before nodding off. “Now that’s a healthy habit,” I said to myself.

And finally, something that I discovered about sleep just yesterday. For some time now, there has been an unpleasant eventuality that I have been avoiding. Yet, in a very strange way, I want the eventuality to occur. I know the incident, the eventuality, if it were to happen would definitely cause me a lot of heartburn and pain. But, being the illogical person that I am (at times), I want the eventuality to happen as I have a nagging feeling that it might just be best for me to get over it.

So, last night, just as I lay down in my bed to go off to sleep, I began to wonder how it would be if the eventuality were to actually happen. Call it a ‘dry run’ if you will, but I could feel the emotions, the pain and the reactions that I would feel if I were to go through the happening. What the most curious part about this is that I don’t recall when I drifted off to sleep. And when I did wake up today morning, I felt that I’d slept the most sound and deep sleep that I’ve slept in over a year now.

Treacherous thoughts, I know. But then, hey, that’s me.

Chak de, yaar. Too much of this post. India has posted 664 at the Oval and is in a commanding position. I’d better head back to the television to see England’s response. Heck, they’re already four wickets down…

2nd Anniversary: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLOG

Two years ago, on this very date, late at night, I had set out to finish an Organisational Behavior (OB) project that had been set by the faculty at my b-school. As it happened, earlier in the day, the marketing faculty had introduced us to the world of blogs. Curious, I logged on to the Net and registered myself on Blogger.

What has resulted since then have been 2 years and nearly 200 posts (this one is post number 196) of an outpouring of outright honesty from yours truly.

A very B-I-G thank you to all the readers of this blog and those who leave a comment back here. Each comment is special, since each comment tells me that my words have had some impact somewhere and some individual has thought it worthwhile to interact and share their own ideas.

THANKS A TON READERS !! :)

And of course, HAPPY BIRTHDAY dear blog. You've been a wonderful friend.