krishvenkatesh's posterous

Will Yellow Lions Roar Amidst Grey Rubble?

Guess what? The colour of IPL5. Amidst shades of yellow, red and gold (or green and gold), turquoise, blue, red and blue, purple and gold, the grey predominates. A cricketer overcome by grip of opening up before someone favourable but little realizing they are sting operators gleefully divulged how much he charged for bowling a no-ball. A whopping Rs. 10 lakh. A million rupees! Another secretly split the black and white proportion of emoluments from franchisees, sending the owners into a tizzy on how their “best practices” were exposed. Madan Lal rubbished three cricketers as not worthy of playing IPL as they didn’t fare well in the erstwhile Indian Cricket League (ICL), the rebel T20 tournament initiated by Kapil Dev and Zee group. Five cricketers who appeared hazy in video sting operation again came clear before TV cameras to tell the world all the videos were doctored, manipulated, and somehow their images got there without their knowledge. What they spoke was not their voice either. A case of morphing and mimicry that would shame the best of video editors creating unbelievable Bollywood and Kollywood flicks. BCCI didn’t buy any of their arguments and sacked them from playing cricket in all forms for five years.

Luke Pomersbach of RCB “touched” a lady and assaulted her fiancé after gulping alcoholic content. The “touched” lady, who supposedly was all over Siddharth Mallya to ask him his BBM pin (courtesy Sid’s tweet), didn’t spare Luke. She dragged him to the police and court. It’s now said the lady who was not touched by the incident has agreed for an out of court settlement. The Mumbai police raided a drugged party of 100 and reportedly found two IPL cricketers, the names of whom are still under the carpet, probably on the intervention of someone not wanting to complete the cycle of money, maiden and mayakkam (exalted state on consuming the drugs). Shah Rukh Khan (superstar SRK), who only was able to crib that his star was removed from stardom when frisked and questioned by FBI officials in the US airport, threw wild words at a stern and stiff guard who refused him and children entry into Wankhade Stadium. Vilasrao Deshmukh, president of Mumbai Cricket Association who was supposed to have found the foul favour of SRK, banned the IPL cricket team co-owner from entering Wankhade for five years. So the five-year IPL has banned five cricketers for five years and one star now stripped of his stardom equally because of his unstar like behaviour for five years from a cricket stadium. That makes IPL5 a spicy, juicy tournament apart from what Mukul Kesavan called the famous Indian male ogle at cheerleaders, at times not knowing whom are they cheering – the men around them or the team that has cracked a boundary. But the cheerleaders in the employ of franchisee owners make fast buck once a year thanks to the only glamorous cricket tournament Indian-ishtyle in the world, roping in Bollywood heroines for opening ceremonies and having starlet co-owners who dance outside the boundary to cheer their teams.

The yellow-robed CSK sneaked their way into the knockout thanks to underperforming Kings XI and RCB. Today, they take on Mumbai Indians, led by Bhajji, who is eager to give Sachin Tendulkar an IPL mantle after Indian team dedicated him a World Cup win and he completed his hundredth hundred in Bangladesh, which was once part of India. In the competing visions of CSK aiming a shot at the title for the third consecutive time, Bhajji wishing to dedicate Sachin an IPL title, Gambhir wanting to justify his price to KKR by crowning them IPL champions and even the never-say-die Sehwag fantasizing another chance to play in the final, it remains to be seen if the Yellow Lions that went into deep slumber and indifferent form at crucial stages will roar. CSK fans updated their Facebook status calling CSK by all adjectives and others in terms fitting vanquished emperors, one even going to extent of suggesting N. Srinivasan, President of BCCI and also head of a business group, agreeing to bail out Kingfisher Airlines of Vijay Mallya if RCB “awarded” the match to Deccan Chargers . A wild allegation at the generous patron of sports in the country. But for Vijay Mallya, we wouldn’t have seen F1 and Rs. 10 crore sponsorship each of two leading football teams in the country.

Grateful Dhoni

Mahendra Singh Dhoni issues a statement in acknowledgement style in a book following CSK’s backdoor entry into IPL 5 knockout stage:

"CSK team have once again found lady luck smiling. I am deeply indebted to the following teams: Deccan Chargers, Kings XI Punjab, Rajasthan Royals and Royal Challengers in that order. First, Deccan Chargers for showing your salt in defeating Royal Challengers Bangalore when it mattered to us more than to you and pulling that one against Kings XI totally putting them in a hopeless position. Kings XI Punjab for eliminating Rajasthan Royals hoping to book your berth but still that happened to be in our favour. Rajasthan Royals for being such a sport in losing to Kings XI when winning was all you wanted. Royal Challengers for making mountain of a score of 138 against Deccan Chargers where a win would have sent Abie Morkel back home and he had to deplane a taking off flight like Madhavan in Three Idiots.

I am also eternally thankful to Dareyl Steyn for standing up to the occasion when Deccan Chargers were outplayed. Even when your win or defeat did not matter, you showed indomitable spirit for the CSK cause. But please don’t give yourself to a sting operation that would later reveal some favours CSK did to you. But I will make sure you get a favourable mention in my meeting with top bosses of CSK. Chris Gayle, you deserve my applause for dumb show at the last stop. When you threatened us with a blitzkrieg of a hundred, we got worrying but by going out cheaply you helped our cause in no small way. Virat Kohli, I admired you in Australia when your middle finger was looming large but you made it up by stroking hundreds. Had you found such a form, Dwayn Bravo would have now landed in London en route West Indies. But you saved us from such an embarassment. Bravo still stays. Hilfenaus and Hussey anyway saved time for sight seeing and so their tickets weren’t booked.

Even when V. Balaji wrote in a newspaper column how a bad captain I was in keeping Suresh Raina at one drop and not playing Aniruddha Srikkanth when he was in form, or for that matter many mis-steps in failing and failing, I didn’t give it a serious thought. We now stand vindicated that more than our effort, it is the other teams’ fall at crucial moments that help us. We are not afraid of failing in the group stages as we have seen that it hardly matters. I would focus on semis and take it on from there. It’s now only two matches. Machans, CSK team-ku whistle podu! (BTW, I am not friends with Namitha!)."

Mahendra Singh Dhoni

Chennai, 20 May 2012 (8 PM)

Note: Like C. Rajagopalachari always had resignation letter in his pocket, I had another statement ready if CSK wouldn’t have made it. I just trashed it into the closet as it was not needed.

{Best classified as humour and those taking it seriously and running into Dhoni and asking him what inspired 'Machans' are likely to get into a bit of trouble.}

If Chhota Beem Proposed to My Daughter

Like all children, Rajiv Chilaka’s animated creation, Chhota Beem, the saviour of Dholakpur kingdom, is also my daughter’s heartthrob. She watches Pogo TV endlessly for hours if Chhota Beem’s adventures are telecast, most of them repeatedly. I remember a lot of them myself having watched some four times at least. To repeatedly see Chhota Beem thrash demons and save the kingdom, or rescue the prince from abductors, or that cricket match in which Raju emerges the hero are ones I remember. This morning, we too made our pilgrimage to Satyam Cinemas to watch the Rs. 4-crore full-length animation picture Chhota Beem and the Curse of Damyaan. The plot was weaved interestingly that even adults wouldn’t yawn.

My daughter suddenly said if Chhota Beem proposes to her, she will say:

1. You shouldn’t eat only laddu. That doesn’t look nice.

2. You have to change your robe from this simple angawastra covering your legs to something more respectable, which covers even the abdomen.

3. You shouldn’t always take Chutki, Raju, and Jaggu wherever you go. I feel uncomfortable with that.

4. I have a bigger problem. If I marry you, I will keep growing older. But you will remain only nine. What would I do with that?

Incidentally, I was thinking as I watched the movie. My daughter started watching Chhota Beem three years ago. She has grown from six to nine. But Chhota Beem has stayed adamantly nine, with no signs of growing up.

But still Chhota Beem is a hero for children. I saw children getting excited on seeing Chhota Beem thrashing the demon Damyaan and laughing when Kaliya fell. The song when jaadu was taught by guruji to Chhota Beem and co. was entertaining.

Chhota Beem on Facebook has more than 17,000 likes as I saw it on May 20, 2012 (today).

Losing Wisdom (Tooth)

The Saturday Summer afternoon was sultry and there was no respite from the blazing Madras sun mid-May. The electricity department held thirty minutes more before releasing power after the mandatory cut for two hours, and those thirty nervous minutes passed in stark anticipation of the length of power interruption if it will extend by another two hours. Despite anxiety in the mind, Veena Venugopal’s Would You Have Bread with That Book kept my humour in tact. I couldn’t resist visualizing her covering her face laughing in the Bombay local on reading Bill Bryson’s first visit to London.

Late afternoon, I walked up to the dentist who had proclaimed that my wisdom tooth on the right is posing a threat to other dental assets in general as the Fukushima nuclear reactor threatened the environs in Japan after being hit by an earthquake. I chose a Saturday as I could relax on a Sunday if I had a bit of pain and not tell customers of this problem of wisdom (tooth) loss, lest they think if I didn’t tell it loudly enough or they not hear it correctly that I am losing wisdom, on which my livelihood thrives.

At the reception of the dentist’s, I was still with Would You... Reading Veena’s health apprehensions after her knee pain feels similar to an Arthur Hailey’s 25-year-old girl in a novel sounded funny. That girl discovers that she has knee cancer, sending Veena now to worries about her own status. She finally is relieved after a doc visit. But now remotely the thought of someone reported dead after removing a tooth twitched my nerves. I gave up reading Would You... any further at the dentist’s and instead gazed at the wall and picked up the newspaper where V. Balaji wrote about Dhoni’s glorious fall in IPL too after a string of Test and one-day debacles due to his adamancy to stick to some players like Suresh Raina and ignoring Aniruddha Srikkanth who is in-form.

With a slight trepidation and palpitating heart, I entered the dentist chamber. The dentist looked up my report and asked ‘the tooth on the right?’ I began to have serious doubts now. Will she pick out the wrong one? After all Viji, the actress, lost her leg and then died after the infamous 'wrong' operation of her leg. The wrong one is a delight to watch if bowled by an offie to confuse the batsman but a dentist picking out the wrong one would land them up in trouble.

She assured me, ‘Let’s do it. Because your tooth is slightly broken, it will not come out like a cake because I may not have a grip on the broken tooth.’ I never felt such a sensation before. I was palpitating more, lest more pain would mean abandoning work at night. Even though a Saturday and following day a Sunday, I had schedules to meet in the midst of a hectic week.

She injected the numbing injection. After ten minutes, she took out three different sets of sharpened forceps and forced them at different angles into my mouth one after another, exploring the best angle to take out my dental asset. She tried to pull out the tooth and it was so strong that it wouldn’t consent to withdraw. It stayed on firm like Dravid in solid form. Leaning to my right she applied enough pressure to extract the poor infected tooth. ‘Do you feel any pain?’ she asked softly assuring me all is well. Then on hearing I am feeling a slight pain, she injected one more dose of that numbing drug. I was more anxious about work. Still she wasn’t done.

She then took position at my back, training the light on my mouth sharply. She circled her hands around my neck, lying on the backrest of the dentist chair, and forced the forceps slightly up at another angle, getting a shot at the tooth that should be ridden. No luck. She came back to her earlier position once again and this time was determined to get that tooth out of my mouth like Tendulkar who was determined to get his first Test hundred at Old Trafford, despite "seven men around me trying to disturb my concentration" (made popular by that Boost ad). Finally, after 35 minutes, the wisdom (tooth) was gone. Strangely I felt emotional on losing it. I should have got it when I was 20 or so. She showed the blood-soaked, isolated tooth and I cringed a bit but did not show it. The tooth was all fine except for a small grey colouring on the one side of its top. After I innocently asked, ‘Should this still go?’ she confidently declared, ‘It has to go. We have no choice as a root canal is not possible because of the angle. And because of the angle of your face, it took a bit of time.’ I can’t do anything about the face angle. It is what it is.

After this she gave some instructions but half of it didn’t get into my head as I was still preoccupied mentally calculating what to finish first on getting home. Probably seeing my confused face, she gave a printout of the instructions. She assured me there will be no pain. I walked out of the dentist minus one wisdom tooth, feeling confident that my wisdom would in no way be affected. Then I came across reading, are people without wisdom teeth highly evolved? It was funny. But I can say with finality: losing your wisdom teeth doesn’t mean losing wisdom, because dentists say wisdom teeth have no impact on your ability to chew or eat. So they are not replaced if they are removed.

Chandra-Ganapathi, the new god of electricity

Those in Chennai now know what electricity means, or the lack of it for two gruelling hours (districts always enjoy free extra hours of power cut). If that becomes a half hour extra for a strange reason even the EB call centre is unable to answer, I was left wondering what could best be done to get us away from this powerless situation. The Kalaignar government found demand exceeding supply and so power was cut at any hour, any time showing us what it means to live without it. Amma took over and found irregularities and asked Manmohan Singh, the nice Prime Minister who was nice to her during her first meeting with him after taking office in May 2011, for extra 1000 MW from the central grid. Letters after letters elicited no reply. Koodangulam nuclear plant is not gone critical. But Amma made sure that power will any way be cut but at an appointed hour, which will even put sunrise and sunset to shame. The sun rises not on the dot and sets variably in the evening. But when it is announced you will be powered off at 10 AM, it goes at 10 and comes back at 12, and even if the clock forgets to strike the twelve chimes, power is back.

I thought the best way out is propitiation of gods. Which god was the question. There is no definite inventor of electricity. See the following timeline:

600 B.C. Thales of Miletus writes about amber becoming charged by rubbing – he was describing what we now call static electricity. 

1600 A.D. English scientist, William Gilbert first coined the term "electricity" from the Greek word for amber. Gilbert wrote about the electrification of many substances in his "De magnete, magneticisique corporibus". He also first used the terms electric force, magnetic pole, and electric attraction. 
1660 A.D. Otto von Guericke invented a machine that produced static electricity. 
1747 A.D. Benjamin Franklin experiments with static charges in the air and theorized about the existence of an electrical fluid that could be composed of particles. William Watson discharged a Leyden jar through a circuit, that began the comprehension of current and circuit. Henry Cavendish started measuring the conductivity of different materials 
1752 A.D. Benjamin Franklin invented the lightening rod - he demonstrated lightning was electricity. 
1786 A.D. Italian physician, Luigi Galvani demonstrated what we now understand to be the electrical basis of nerve impulses when he made frog muscles twitch by jolting them with a spark from an electrostatic machine. 
1821 A.D. First electric motor (Faraday).

1879 A.D. Thomas Alva Edison comes up with incandescent light. 

William Gilbert cannot be elevated to godly status just for coining the term or Faraday and Franklin for generating it. Nor can Thomas Alva Edison become a part of our complicated Hindu hierarchy of gods lest we have to find a mythological story as to why he has to be there or our children will not accept him. Vedanta has survived only because of Ramayana and Mahabhartha after all.

I desist from incurring the wrath of our own gods if I had to fit in a Western inventor of electricity into a godly frame and offer flowers to him (Him?) everyday and perform homas offering fused 40 watts bulb, tube light the slim one or newest fluorescent lamp in poornahoothi to satiate him that we are spared power cuts. I have to elaborately write Sanskritised terms glorifying how electricity and these people made life better, extolling their virtues (“Bulb namosthuthe; Edison-aya namaha; rathraye prakashanam avahayami; nidharshana electricity namo namaha; tube light samarpayami; fan-aya vandanam; ac rakshayami”). But reading a review of Erwin Schrodinger’s biography who invented quantum theory, I was flummoxed. He fell in love with young women and took long-term care of them and his wife was equally adulterous in courting companions. Till then, the cat that is alive and dead by Schrodinger’s thought experiment was holding me in awe and how earth shattering it was to learn he was living with various women. Although his broad minded liberty would appeal to equally liberated souls, by Hindu standards, he is a sinner. Will he hold our reverence in the Hindu precincts of virtuous life or if we are to find out salacious stories about other people connected with electricity, think of multiple sins I would be attributed with. I will be cursed to be roasted in boiling oil upon my death, in the hell. Seven generations of children born in my family will not forgive me for the untold misery they have to undergo because of my misdemeanor of propitiating adulterous men.

So I found a middle path. Electricity is after all a nineteenth-century invention. Before that, we had fire, sun, and moon to give us light. Sun is burning and it’s difficult to satiate Surya. Fire is aggressive and for any small error in propitiation, Agni will burn us down. Moon is lovely, white, cool and lights our lives when sun departs for evening sojourn into the far-off horizon. It is also equated to beautiful women with a glorious face. After all, women are so forgiving like Amma Parvathi. So we have Chandra who is the moon-god. Propitiating him appropriately will make sure that our homes are lit, fans are running, ac is functioning -- and electricity never fails.

There is a hitch though. Chandra made fun of Vinayaka coming back on Vinayaka Chathurthi on his vahana moonjur as he slipped because his stomach was full after consuming offerings of his devotees. Vinayaka cursed Chandra of growing and fading every fifteen days for this ungentle act. So even if Chandra is happy, he would be unavailable for fifteen days to help us. So why not make a Chandra-Ganapathi who is benign and forgiving of Chandra for having laughed at him on that fateful night?

Chandra-Ganapathi will sport a crescent on his headgear, which will be circular in shape. Bright things are to be offered to him everyday. Never offer dark-colored fruits and other dark-colored payasa nivedhana. The prayers will be done at 6 am and 6 pm, twice a day. All electrical equipments will be smeared with sandal paste chanting “Chandra-Ganapathe namaha.” If one mandala pooja for 45 days is done, there will no power cuts in your household.

During rainy season, he is prayed as Lightning Ganapathi who will protect us from bad effects of lightning.

Tamarind City and Its Discontent

Calling our city Tamarind City is a bit salty sour (add sweltering heat of summer to the sourly tamarind) because it doesn’t have a tamarind connection. To the Madras Man, whose taste of the city is stronger, the title is not to his liking. Former West Bengal governor Gopalkrishna Gandhi was seen having animated discussion with his friends during the book launch, and he said it was about why Tamarind City. What emerged from this discussion is not clear but Bishwananth Ghosh explains why he called Madras the tamarind city in the first pages of the book. I think there are several hues to this title. Some people might reject it outright. Some people will be aroused by curiosity as to why Tamarind City. Some people will contest the name, citing various reasons. By any stretch of imagination, the title doesn’t reflect the city’s character even remotely.

In a city that holds filter coffee and idli on a relish, and add several varieties of dosa, the spread gets wider but the city never seems to have celebrated tamarind sambar, tamarind rasam, tamarind rice, or any other tamarind “dish,” although tamarind is consumed heavily in the household. According to Janaki Lenin, the tamarind is not even South Indian. It’s African. She wrote in her weekly column in The Hindu, “Marathi amti is flavoured by kokum, a concentrate made from the fruit of a forest tree in the Western Ghats. When Sambhaji, a Maratha king who ruled Thanjavur, Tamil Nadu, in the 18th century, ran out of kokum from his homeland, he substituted tamarind which was brought to India thousands of years ago from Africa. Thus sambhar was born and named for its gourmet progenitor. South Indians uniquely coupled a dumpling whose texture is Indonesian [idli] with an Afro-Marathi stew [sambhar] and made it their own.” So the very fact that Bishwanath Ghosh chose an African ancestry for a city that absorbed tamarind into its palette seems very very odd.

For a beautiful city of contradictions where understated achievements far outweigh its other colours, Bishwanath has inserted a new lingo into its sleeve. The reasons could be privy to him. But when a woman in the audience asked, “Bengalis always used to ask Madrasis, why do you add so much tamarind?” I suddenly got my eureka moment. For a Bengali, the city intrigues for the excessive tamarind soaked to cook the sambar stew. This one title never hides the fact that a Bengali has written about this city. In fact, it’s a bold statement of making your roots clear.

Tamarind City launch augurs well for heritage

Sriram, V., introducing the book and the author. L to R: Bishwanath Ghosh, author; Mr. S. Muthiah, the Madras Man; Mr. N. Ram, who launched the book along with two "readers" from the book.

The Madras Man Mr. S. Muthiah couldn’t be happier. His 40-year crusade for heritage finally was heard at the echelons of power that a Heritage Bill was introduced in the Tamil Nadu Assembly yesterday to cover heritage buildings in Tamil Nadu not covered under the Central and State Acts of the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains. Mentioning this during the launch of Tamarind City authored by Bishwanath Ghosh, the Madras Man wished the author more books as this turned out to be auspicious. N.S. Ramaswami and Harry Miller focused on the city before him, Mr. Muthiah said. He was able to find Sriram V., Pradeep Chakravarthy and Karthik Bhatt to engage in heritage. He asked, “who will follow them?” He wanted young people to get interested in the city. Tamarind City is a young man’s view of Madras, in his opinion. He complimented Bishwanath for carrying on the crusade into the book and it turned to be auspicious that as the book is launched, Heritage Bill is also passed. And to find Where Modern India Began on the title even more made the Madras Man happy because so far no one paid serious attention when he says all institutions of modern India began in Madras.

I distinctly remember Harry Miller’s photographs in The Indian Express in the 1980s captioned ‘Madras -- City of Neglect.’ I read his book Frog in My Soup, which is an interesting account of Madras and the environs he lived. Rib-tickling laughter is what you will lapse into if you read the letter written by a university student for a job application in that book. Hilarity at its peak!

Sriram V., in his characteristic humour, narrated an anecdote. He carried this book on a flight and his co-passenger asked him if the book is on Tumkur as it exports tamarinds. Sriram said he will recommend this book to any outsider of Madras if he or she wants to know the city in the contemporary sense.

N. Ram, The Hindu’s former editor-in-chief, who launched the book, said self-immolation finding a mention in the book provides insightful information and something needs to be done about it. He added that this book is beyond journalism. Bishwanath has given an interesting account of the city.

The questions got trickier for Bishwanath as one in the audience asked him why he chose to write about Brahmins, who constitute only 3% of the population in Tamil Nadu to which Bishwanath said he found them to be the visible community among whom he has interacted in the city. But quickly Ram bailed him out saying Dravidian movement and Periyarism also find a mention in his book and not only Brahmins. The other asked who is great -- Rabindranath Tagore or Bharathiyar? Bishwanath didn’t duck this bouncer and said he is unable to pass judgement as he hasn’t read both.

Among the people profiled in the book, apart from the Madras Man, I found Dr. Narayana Reddy, leading sexologist, and Sankar, the artist of Chandamama and Bishwanath Ghosh’s childhood hero in attendance at the launch.

This is a book I had completed cover to cover before the launch and as excerpts were read out, it was a rewind for me. To find Mr. S. Muthiah and Sriram, V. on stage kindled several colours of joy as I have benefitted from their wisdom of the city. All together, it was a great summer evening with a huge crowd at Tamarind City.

The Lost Charm of a Last-Ball Six

The desert revelry of cricket in Sharjah with all its glitz and glamour was a clear departure from the viewership of the game elsewhere. Sitting in plush sofas in “Arab men” garb, the sultan patrons of cricket covered everything head to toe and the Bollywood glamour stars were often seen in TV camera. The Sharjah stadium would erupt every time a Pakistan four is hit. It would be as good as playing in Pakistan. But the atmosphere was carnivalesque and the game played under a spell. The arch rivals India and Pakistan match on a Friday was a treat to the spectators.

India was a favourite those days with newfound status as World Champions in 1983 and winning a World Series tournament in Australia in 1985. It was a fading evening in 1986. Pakistan was nowhere against India in the Australasia Cup finals but the wily Javed Miandad turned it around with his milking century. Miandad would often score not by grand hits but by pushing for singles and running faster between wickets. They needed 4 off the last ball. For some strange reason, Chetan Sharma was firing in the last over and Kapil Dev had bowled the penultimate over.

Miandad had little options and those days scoring a boundary off the last ball was a rare occurrence. He waited for the last ball with worry writ all over his face. I was watching it with a group of friends and we were on the edge of our seats, biting our nails as young schoolboys just back from school, with uniform in tact and bags close-by with nothing removed. We just dropped in our friend’s place and were glued on to the TV. My friend switched off the TV as Chetan Sharma was closer to the crease to deliver the ball. After a few seconds, we saw the replay. Came in a full toss and it disappeared into the midwicket fence. A six! Just watch this. It broke all our hearts. The evening turned sombre and all of us were bashing and cursing Chetan Sharma, who was a heartthrob of many women for his stubble. The debate as to why he should bowl a full toss of all balls was a matter of debate for months. Miandad became an instant hero and that bat sold for thousands of dollars in an auction. Chetan Sharma is as much remembered for his century at one-drop against England (the then captain Kris Srikkanth promoted Chetan to no. 3 and that constantly finds mention in most of the speeches of Srikkanth I have heard) as for this infamous six he gifted Miandad.

Forget the decadence of IPL that Mukul Kesavan eloquently narrated. But Dwayn Bravo belting a six off the last ball for Super Kings vs Knight Riders didn’t swell the heart as Pakistani blood surge after that last-ball six. It was the same setting. Five needed off last ball. A full toss and Bravo smashed it over midwicket the same way Miandad did. But Bravo wouldn’t be interviewed 10 years from now for pulling off a great win. It will just fade off our memory as the meal we had day before yesterday. 

Snake and Ladders (in IPL) and That Glorious Moment Becoming History Too Soon

If the inventors of the game of cricket would have been more careful, they would have given consistency some respect. Instead, it’s always a snake and ladders game. That little game of chance played by children for fun of making it to the top of the chart using dices and then climbing up the ladder and coming down if a snake hisses has probability written all over it. But in cricket, chance is all but one element. The quirky thing is that a century is recorded by the statistician if you have scored it after seven catches were dropped, or you had a fabulous chanceless innings. There is no stat on how many “lives” went into that hundred.

Take the use case of David Warner who mauled Chargers with a blistering century and had to depart for a single-digit score versus Super Kings. In between those two innings lie a sportsman’s high and low. Warner’s century would have found sport reporters equating him with many living and nonliving greats and using choicest adjectives in merriment of witnessing a great innings. Sudhir Sahasranaman, former resident editor of NDTV facebooked saying Warner is treating the opposition bowling as a school team attack. Warner if he ever gets to read even five of these reports would be too unhuman to think he is a normal cricketer and made a decent effort. But no mention of his 8 off 9 balls with one boundary in the next day’s newspapers would bring his roof crashing down. The adjectives would have dried and Warner has to settle to the earth-crashing fact that he is after all not a darling that day when he scores a mere 8. If hundred was a climb, that 8 was a snake hiss. That way cricket is a great leveller. If you scored a triple century in the first innings of a test, you are all over the place in the newspapers, sports magazine covers but if you went for a duck in the second innings, you are relegated to a persona non grata status. The Hindu prescription of equanimity applies more than necessary to cricket and your glorious success and an inexplicable failure at the crease.

The teams are not spared either of this double entendre. The triumphant India found a bitter reality in going down 0-5 to West Indies in 1983 in the one-day series after an unbelievable strike at the summit of the World Cup just three months ago, humbling the West Indies. The World Champions, as they would be called, quickly lost their status, euphoria, and pride in a matter of months.

Now, let’s see Delhi Daredevils in IPL5. After a seemingly invincible show in which they decimated opposition at will, the sudden waking up to 119 in 20 overs versus Super Kings would have found them numb for answers. What happened to the strategy, to their star performers, or their team as a whole just in a matter of two days. Sometimes that day can go bad for the team as a whole. This is the “capricious blend of elements,” as Neville Cardus would call it.

Why not Narayana Murthy for President or for that matter an eminent personality and why only political figureheads?

President Prathiba Devisingh Patil will end her term in July this year and might go down in records as the most travelled First Citizen and costing the exchequer Rs. 200 plus crore. This apart, nothing could count as her stellar achievement. The lasting legacy left by her predecesor Honorable A.P.J. Abdul Kalam with the benefit of his clean image put the Presidential office in new light before the nation. Hailing from scientific community and with many laurels behind him as a scientist par excellence, APJ became a non-political head of state. That really brought a kind of respect that the President deserves in the second largest democracy in the world. The BJP is credited with bringing his name and APJ lived up to his scholarly credentials in suggesting various measures for development of India. In an endearing memoir of his office, P.M. Nair (The Kalam Effect), then secretary to President, wrote about how APJ conducted affairs at the Rashtrapathi Bhavan. Backed by stellar vision of developed India in 2020, APJ interacted with all sections of the society propagating his vision. He breathed fresh air into otherwise what become respectable political retirement office for Congressmen.

The present debate on the next President is happening and the names propping up give no confidence. Pranab Mukherjee for President. Another brilliant Congress strategist and man of many committees and subcommittees in the government. Pranab-da, as he is affectionately called, has credentials, experience, image, and stature to be President. We could hardly dispute that. Despite being in office for many years, there is no corruption case against him. He has virtually run the government quietly as head of various policy-making committees and is an indispensable troubleshooter with Congress allies. But the question is do we need a politician President yet again? The Prathibha Patil invention by Congress by digging her out of nowhere and giving India its woman president did not live up to the relish. She remained one of the solemn Presidents without much visibility for any of her initiatives, and at times courted controversy that the Opposition could come close to calling misusing office. She simply was not a President material. Still she was given the ultimate honour, probably because her predecessor put uncomfortable questions to Congress during government formation by that party in 2006.

Why not we honour other illustrious citizens of this country with the highest office? Why should the names be restricted to political figures? Infosys founder Narayana Murthy created a global IT outsourcing company out of India, perching it at the numero uno position for IT services. His contribution to this effort is laudable and he also went on to create wealth for employees of the company. This apart, his wisdom regarding government policy has been focussed on the betterment of the country. No other business personality has come to assume President’s office. As India assumes new international role as a fast-developing economy and might even go on to lead the world in some arenas, the nation’s vision shouldn’t be compromised at the highest office. Person with the slightest of insult shouldn’t be suggested for this august office. Eminent citizens should occupy Rashtrapathi Bhavan to avoid the political hue that surrounds it. After Narayana Murthy, the next one could be someone who has made stellar contribution in some other area and holds respect of our citizens. As a nation, we need to think on progressive lines and not make the Presidential office a mere namesake. As clean politicians have become rare, it is time we call people from civic society, business circles, and other spheres of life to adorn this office, keeping its sanctity intact.