Tag Tag?

Well, I can't disappoint good old Piyush. Now that he has tagged me, let me tag ahead---

Last movie seen in a theatre?
"Wall-E" --- that funny movie from Pixar!

What book are you reading?
I am reading many --- (1) The Roald Dahl Omnibus (2) Understanding Movies (3) Ingmar Bergman --- the Art of Confession

Favorite magazine
Sportstar (but I haven't read it in a while now...)

Favorite smells
Saffron, Jasmine and of course, Fish!

Favorite sound
That of Sitar (second only to my voice!)

Worst feeling in the world
Being cheated

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Oh what a nightmare that was (joking of course!)...and after that...
"What time is it??"

Favorite fast food place
I'll pass on that...

Future child's name
Gregory Peck, John Wayne or Ingrid Bergman

Finish this statement. "If I had a lot of money I'd..."
Be traveling with sports teams all over the world!

Do you drive fast?
Yes. But within Speed Limit signs.

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal.
Puhleeeeeez.. No!

Favorite Drink
Starbucks Cold Coffee

Do you eat the stem of broccoli?
This is a crazy question (like do you eat carrot leaves?) No.

Storms - Cool or Scary?
Depends. Cool mostly. If I am not the one causing those storms!

If you could dye your hair any color, what would be
Black

Name all the different cities/towns you have lived in:
Nashik, Pune, Bangalore and now Phoenix/Chandler AZ, USA

Favorite sports to watch
All of them, but I prefer football and cricket!

One nice thing about the person who sent this to you
He's a jolly good fellow, he is a jolly good fellow!

What's under your bed?
Must be some dust, but who cares!

Would you like to be born as yourself again?
Why! Yes. I'd do without the specs though.

Morning person or night owl?
Morning, definitely.

Over easy or sunny side up?
Sunny up, please

Favorite place to relax
Office, where else ;-)

Favorite pie
Chocolate chip cookies.

Favorite ice cream flavor:
Coffee

You pass this tag to:
Anybody interested in taggin' along.

Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?
Anybody most interested in taggin' along.

The sorrow of not being unique

I had to let one day pass before I posted this; for I did not want the haunted day to play foul against the authenticity (and of course, the agony, as you'll see) of this article.

There are multiple sorrows in this material world. Those, if I may be allowed to, can be categorized into the sorrows of nation, the sorrows of race, the sorrows of kingdom, etc. etc. and last but not the least, sorrows of the individual. I dare say that the sorrows of the individual are as bad as they come; for all other kinds can be converted to the latter!

It really hurts to know that your name (which is your identity) is not unique. There is someone else (or in case of a John Smith or a Sachin Kulkarni, there may be hundreds) who prints his name just the same as you do. And that, my word, starts an interesting dual. This person follows you (and you, in turn are following him!) everywhere you go. To the bank, to the office, (and why not!) to the library too.

When I joined my organization, which at that time used to pay more than a hundred thousand people, I never thought that there will be another person with my name here, and that too the same (characteristic) spelling, the 'Oke'! I was proven wrong the very first morning, as I realized a colleague of mine had mistakenly sent an e-mail to my namesake. And of course, it was not long before I received an e-mail for my counterpart! And so it began.

When I came to the US, I got a chance to meet this gentleman in person, and it was some experience! He was talking to a colleague of his, when I passed by, proudly showing my badge. This fellow was taken for a ride (earlier that morning, I got a telephone call for the other 'Ajit'). It was interesting to know that I studied in the same college that he did: about eighteen years later, history was to be repeated!

And then, when I went to the public library to get my card, the lady at the desk must have thought that I was out of my mind.

"Sir, but you already have an account!"

"I do?"

"Yes sir, you do!"

"Oh it must be the other I"

"?"

"The other Ajit Oke?"

"How do you know?"

"He goes to work to the same place I do"

""

":-)"

"Well. What do you I do now?"

":-)"

"Do you have a middle name?"

"Thanks to my father, I have!"

"Well, let me use that in your a/c name then. You don't mind, right?"

"Please go ahead!"

What's in name, Shakespeare said a long time ago. Well, he could afford to, because at that time, he may well have been the one and only William Shakespeare. I am sure he would not say that had his name been William Jones!

Heck- it's not easy to be unique in this world. And that's the sorrow of this individual.

Five years on

Today is January 25th, and I celebrate the fifth birthday of my lovely bike! It has taken me a long way: interestingly, 22,001 kms, the meter reading reads today!

Five years on and my bike is still kicking and knocking healthy. Long live my bike and wide live the roads!!

Fish out of (coconut) water

I generally don't make faces when being photographed. On this particular occasion, on our way to Shimoga, when we stopped by a small tea-n-coconut-water shop, I was had by an unknown force; which made me raise my eyebrows by almost 2cm, and precisely at that moment the shutter opened and closed. In this particular case, the smiles arrived after the photo was taken :-)


On our way along the beach, we found one (already dead, may his soul rest in peace) fish. Going by its tiny size, and ever so soft skin, it was tempting to do a Dil Chahta Hain with it. The fish was so tiny, that I did not need any trick-trick to get snapped. Had others not complained that they wanted to take snaps in a similar pose, I would have had it myself!

Thanks to Piyush to have captured these memorable moments on digital media!

Treasures I possess

Out of Country experience

Nine years ago I left my hometown for Pune. Five years ago I moved by base from Pune to Bangalore.

A few hours from now, I am leaving for Malaysia (hang on, only for a couple of days!).

Only thing I know about Malaysia is "Malaysia - truly Asia," that hum-able jingle. Although I am not going with tourism as the purpose (it's an official visit, with a few sights on the offering when time permits!), I am still looking forward to that out-of-country experience.

I have never been out of this country before, but then, till six months ago, I had never flown in my life. New destinations keep coming, and it's best to keep accepting.

Only means of travel remaining are by sea and of course, by a spaceship (not to mention a submarine and a glider!). Maybe someday, those opportunities will come my way, or maybe never.

Anyway, for the time being, I am off to my preparations (or whatever is remaining of it).

Ventures Spikers Cup 2007

Although I do not know how to correctly punctuate the title, I am not bothered about it. The tournament that ended yesterday was in many ways a memorable one. Representing one's clan is always a proud feeling. Be it your school, or your neighbourhood, your family or at the topmost level your country, representing them in a competitive environment is bound to bring the best out of you. And probably that's what did the trick. Representing (or rather, leading) my organization at the Ventures Spikers Cup volleyball tournament did leave me with some of the proudest moments. We may have lost out on many of crucial counts and that may have left us with Err-- we could and should have won more matches than we actually did, we learnt a lot of things over the course of last four days.

Let me try to capture some of those:

• Playing conditions do matter a lot, not just in cricket. The first two days of matches were under threat from the rain Gods and on day 1, play was stopped due to rain. The rains and the sand court - two parameters we never had to encounter while our work-outs did make a lasting impact. The journey home that night was a memorable one with many of us returning late, exhausted from the match play and drenched literally to the bones. The next day, all of us were rather stiff and nonathletic. We lost the first game on day 2!
• It doesn't matter how good player you are unless you perform in the match. It's just like cricket! Pre-match practice is always studded with some hard hits and impressive display of skills that may demoralize the opposition. Yet, what really matters is how you perform from the word go. I have seen many spikers who hit extremely hard in pre-match practice but come cropper once the real game starts. I was sad when this happened to my colleague and that resulted in our team's overall performance. And that reminded me of Wayne Rooney - always a big match player, and that's why he is admired and feared by many!
• Two successive games, that too in a must-win situation can take a lot out of you. After the loss in the second match, we had to win the third to qualify for the semi finals. We struggled, still carrying the depression from the first loss. But then, we recovered in time and sneaked through to the semi finals.
• Perhaps in India volleyball is associated with Kerala. And that's a rule rather than exception. After our close loss in the semi-finals, while shaking hands with our opponents, first thing I was asked was if I was a Malyali! To tell the truth, I was elated and flattered beyond imagination!
• From the high of almost reaching the finals, we slumped to the fourth position with another loss. Again, we lost after leading in both the sets. Somewhere, we lacked that professionalism and desire to win. The spikers in our team were under-used and the outfield play was far from breathtaking. The minds moved faster than bodies and the ball flew around with mouths agape. A little more focus should have done the trick. Now, at least now we know, what would have done the trick!
  

It was a bitter-sweet end of an exciting tournament for me, as even though we lost the third-place match, I was chosen the Spiker of the Tournament. It was an honour, for there were many other spikers of similar calibre. I guess, what mattered the most was the Rooney factor, that I played my shots when it mattered the most for my team. I scored when my team needed the points badly. I feel that although I failed to inspire the team by my words, I did so through my smashes (and I am still guessing!). One or two games when I was really fired up, the team did very well to win those games comprehensively. Overall, we fell short by probably a few whiskers.

In passing, I am rather happy that we lost some of the crucial matches, for they have taught much more and much better than a victory would have!

Photo: Me holding the Best Spiker of the Tournament Award

Give us liberty or...

Of late it has come to my notice that my shoes are not behaving themselves. Whenever I am driving, eating my lunch or even relaxing/stretching in my office chair for a while, they seem to be at work, which at best can be described as nuisance. The old pair seems to have grown tired of me. In their younger days when they wore a shiny look, they used to behave. But no more so.

Invariably, after a longish lunch, having washed my hands I have to tie the laces. Initially I thought somehow the lace was cutting loose, and never thought it as mischief on my shoes' part. Nowadays, it has become a routine that I finish lunch, wash hands and before lining up in the queue for water, I tie back the laces.

I wonder if this is the effect of aging or if these guys wants the tiny openings stitched or even a complete overhaul.

Whatever...

Hurrah!!!

And our team has won the inter-group volleyball tournament! The entire team's performance was truly remarkable, and so-to-say with modesty, I played my smashing part reasonably well. It was by no means an easy victory (and it shouldn't be at least in the finals!). We were made to sweat hard and bring out our best performance, had to rise to the occasion for the opposition was fierce, skillful and determined to win. The final scoreline read, (in our favour) as 24-26, 25-20,25-23,25-21. With all the four sets going neck-to-neck it was simply a treat for the audience.

At the end of it, it's an exhilarating feeling, a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction of entertaining the elite crowd. I would say the team that grabbed the opportunities at the crucial moments and won those important points of the game finally won the match.

Hush. My legs are aching a bit. The shirt is all wet with sweat. And, yet, the lemon juice tastes so sweet! Mind you, I asked for no sugar in it...

It has been two years, yet...

After a long time, yesterday, I passed by my beloved esteem institute: Indian Institute of Science. I happened to be traveling in the city bus, coming home after a long, and rather dull journey, when I saw the lights of the Institute. As I passed by the Gymkhana gate, all those proud memories rushed back. The volleyball court was flood-lit and a game was on. Our physical education officer Mr Poonacha sir was sitting on the position of chief referee as one of the players was walking to the serving spot.

It was not so long time ago that I had led my department's team to a memorable and creditable inter-department volleyball championship. This tournament came right after we had successfully defended our Cricket title (and I had been chosen the best batsman of the lot --- Shh.. I should be more modest than that you know. Maybe I should add that to my TO DO list!) Those days were magical and electrifying. There was the talk of the tournament in the department hallways and at mess tables. Even the mess employees had spoken to me about the powerful performance our team had given. "We will be there for the finals!" they had assured. On the road to the finals, we had not lost even a single set and the victories had been emphatic. It was a overall strong display by a good team. With Nithin SK as my setter and Sandesh and Sudhir KA as able supports (not to forget heroics by Chomu, Sethji, Vasuki and Co. in the back-line), we had at times steamrolled the opposition. Perfect or near-perfect set for a spike is not my 'requirement' for a reasonably powerful spike as such, but then Nithin was always perfect: and as a result the smashes were most powerful most times. With few blockers in the opposition we would march to victory within 30-45 minutes at the most.

Photo1: Nithin anticipates a high ball while I (black T shirt) watch on.

Photo2: First winning and then proving a point!

Photo3: The collective chaos after the victory.

Photo4: The two teams, and match officials after the final. Note the sweat and wear-n-tear of the volleyball!

Photo5: We, the champs!

The final was a different affair. The game was a best-of-five one and the opposition in Aerospace Engg. was a tough nut to crack. Score for the first two sets read: 25-23, 25-21 in our favour. It was not at all easy, mind you. Their serving capabilities were far better and accurate than we had ever come across. Much to the delight of the opposition's cheering gang, I had once missed a service which hit me direct into my face. That hurt. It really did. And the same moment perhaps made me play even better. It was not humiliation in front of 100-odd crowd, but it was a humiliation at personal level. I myself would have expected to play better than I was, and I am happy that I finally did.

With 2-0 games up, perhaps we did lose a bit of focus, and dropped the next game 19-25. It was the first time in the tournament that we had lost a set. It was good for us, for it taught us the important lesson of any sport: respect thy opposition. We learned it quickly and gracefully, and in the next set we romped home with a good score on the board: 25-17!

I faintly remember the 'chaos' after the match. All our department-mates were all over the ground. Before I could grasp the 'gravity' of the situation, I was raised on shoulders of I think three-four guys and so to say, I was on top of the world :-). The opposition captain, Satya was generous in congratulations, we shook hands with each of the his members and of course the referee. The photo session went on for some time before it was time for the prize distribution. Those little shining cups were invaluable to us: to our team, which had played so well throughout the tournament. It was an unimaginable feeling of accomplishment (although it was a mere inter-department tournament!). All of our team would agree to that.

One little glance to the flood-lit ground brought back so many cheerful memories. The inter-department tournament must be on there. One or the other team must be having the same dream as we all had two years ago, and one or the other team will go on and achieve that. One or the other player will be the Hero of the evening, and maybe all the mates will talk about that particular match for some days to come. The atmosphere would have the same passion and energy that it had two years ago. Players might have changed but can the passion and desire to win change? No way. I almost wanted to get off the bus and go meet the players and observe the game. Cheer for some team or the other and maybe talk about how the passion has not changed. I wanted to just sit there for a while and take a long deep breath and re-energize myself. But why! I did not really have to be physically there. Just a glance from the speeding bus was enough for me. Enough to recreate the days from memory. Those golden days...

It has been two years since I played on the same ground. It has been two years since our team won in front of a huge crowd. It has been two long years! Yet the passion has not reduced. And I guess it can never. Some things like these can never happen...

Taste of Failure

After the first close encounter, the next two cricket matches (including one in which I did not play) turned out to be disasters. With much vigour and skillful display we managed to qualify for the next round, aka Super Sixes. In the very first match we were pitted against arguably one of the strongest teams in the competition.

Before we knew what exactly was happening on the field, they had hammered 70 runs off first three overs. This whirlwind performance took the breath away. We were a hopeless bunch out there, trying to comfort each other in this hard time. Finally, the hammering subsided as the stipulated 12 overs finished. Looking up at the mountain of 190 runs, especially when you're the captain of the team that's supposed to chase it is not a memorable experience. Again, after congratulating the two unbeaten opening batsmen of the opposition, I expected to reduce the margin of loss as much as possible.

After two quick wickets, I decided to jump into the fray. After playing the first ball comfortably, I thought I could stay longer and give my side something to cheer about. At times, or if you believe in Murphy's golden laws, the lady luck suddenly decides to part ways and you're left alone to slug it out with your fate. It was that kind of a day. Off the second ball, I managed a reasonably strong off drive which I thought went past the short cover. The short cover and the ball had different plans on their respective minds, and yes, me too had an entirely different plan. I had traveled three paces at quick time and just then it was time for me to return back to the crease. Given the dust-bowl-like condition of the pitch, I had no choice but to slip and despite a desperate diving effort, I think I fell short of the crease by the time the bails were off the stumps. Imagine this happening in front of eleven pairs of expecting eyes. Imagine this happening after incomparably poor show as a fielding side.

I had to return. No wonder the return journey took longer than expected.

It is for formality that I write, "we were beaten by a stronger team (that eventually proved to be the strongest team of the tournament)."

It was a paltry match after all. Not significant at all. Had I hit a quick-fire 50, nobody would have bothered. And the same rule applies to the failure. Yet, one can't escape the dreadful emotion of dejection, frustration and of course shame (of having let the team down) even in such small, insignificant occasions.

Now imagine what it must feel like if it happens at the international stages of sport. In front of millions watching, reading, hearing about the performances. Take the cases of Sachin Tendulkar, Brian Lara, Ricky Ponting or likes. From their point of view, at the early stages of their careers they must have felt such strong emotions. But do they feel the same way now, should such a situation arise?

I am sure they have their own ways of handling this. And of course, maintaining the hunger for victory, maintaining the hunger for excellence. Not only as individuals but of course for their teams, for their countries.

Well, that's what I am going to do. There is this volleyball semifinal coming up. And I can't wait to go down there and smash my way to success. Success of my team, of course!

And then... There was light.

As far as the well-known, overly used cliché goes, over the last two weeks or so, it wore an entirely different meaning for me. I said, "yes," and then, there was light on the stage.

Photo1: Lights are as important as any other aspect of the play.

When the long-running maraaThi one-act play competition concluded yesterday, it gave rise to mixed feelings. As it has always done. When you have achieved something you always desired, you are left with a feeling of emptiness. Something is missing despite achieving everything. If you analyze in more details, as to what exactly is missing you can easily find that it's the desire. Desire to achieve that particular thing is, well, at least for the time being, is past you. You have fulfilled it, after all.

Exactly with these feelings I returned home, wading past the Sunday night traffic (which quite understandably we never suffered as we used to return home after midnight after the long practices). Suddenly, the hearts and traffic were heavy. Ah, and the bags too. As we had won a prize in all the categories except for best actress (too bad ladies didn't have much role to play in our play this time around). I won second prize for 'lights,' and hence the title of this post. We won the coveted Best One-act Play and Best actor in leading role awards, along with, Best Sets and Best Music first prize clean sweep. As most of the audience I talked to after our performance told me, it was a wonderful team effort that paid off. As it always has over the years. Our young-n-enthu Yuva MaraThi Sangha has always excelled at the art.

Photo2: Me receiving the second prize for lights from renowned actor Vikram Gokhale

Over the last four years or so, the duration of practice sessions has shrunk. The time spent in memorizing the dialogs has reduced. The time spent in actually executing has reached an alarmingly low level. In industrial terms, we are required to hit the tighter schedules of "time to audiences" and we have time and again bettered the previous records! What makes this possible is the ever-growing experience, ever growing understanding of secrets of the trade and ever growing desire to excel.

The previous two one-act plays have been written in-house. That provides even more flexibilities in terms of the plot and characters. This is fine as far as preparing for a competition is concerned. As the much enjoyed and passionately contested debate (between me and the director, of course) progressed, I posed the question of, "performance for the judges or performance for ourselves?," a new point of view towards the medium of theatre was beginning to come out. I was of the opinion of irrespective of how difficult a certain point becomes for the audiences to understand, we should not compromise upon it. We may simplify but not oversimplify which may take away the charm and beauty of the way a certain sequence is performed. The point was well taken, and another wonderful comment came from the lead actor: "The audience seems to enjoy it when they feel that they are made to think. Yet the audience hates it when they are really made to think!"

I guess, the challenge lies in playing with these thin lines.

If one looks at Escher's incredible drawings or listens to Bach's intriguing Cannons, or even tries to understand Godel's theorem, one can't help but fall in love with the amazing world of layers and of course, self reference. A couple of times, I tried to play with my rudimentary knowledge of these concepts and tried to create something like Esher's painting in the world of literature. I think there is enough scope to continue that further and perhaps take it to the world to theatre/cinema.

An example of the same was:

At an important phase of my life
I reflected back on my past:
I saw myself---
Reflecting upon my past,
At an important phase of my life.

Now, I am confused as to how to define "important phase" in my life.

With this note, I would like to put a semi-colon to this post. There are thousand things to write about. There are as many posts to make up for the longish e-silence over the last couple of weeks.

There are more words to be typed and more posts to be created. So, hang on!

Time please!

Last few days have been, and coming days at work are going to be hectic!

Now, don't blame me if I let out an angry cry if you politely ask, "meraa ek kaam karega kyaa?"

A Graceful Defeat

The 'Olympic' games are on in our office. Over the last week-end or so, I played a couple of games - as if 30 minutes of relentless running in the game of Basketball on Friday was not enough, I had to lead my team of 8 players in the cricket match on Sunday! Due to various inevitable reasons we could not field a complete 11-men team for that match. Unfortunately we lost both the matches (BB and cricket, i.e.), but in the defeat there were a lot of positives. First and foremost, the defeat did not have a bitter taste after all. The enjoyment of mere playing was overwhelming and the result was truly immaterial. Although on paper, it would be marked as zero points, there were numerous points that we all took home that day.

Below is the match report I shared with my team after the match, (names don't matter here, for the reader may not know anybody: but he may know the spirit of the game anyway)

It was a nice and bright day which promised a good game of cricket. Neither too hot nor too cold, yet it gave me a few early shivers as due to various reasons people dropped out and we had to manage with eight players, which also was a minimum limit for the game to start off.

The toss was held even before all eight of our team were present on the field. As it turned out it was rather a good toss to lose. The opposition’s captain, Reddy, didn’t waste many picoseconds before he declared to his team that they were going to bat first. I was a bit inclined to batting second and chasing down whatever score was asked of, for many reasons which I would rather hold off.

I tossed the new ball to Saurabh, who was as usual, very enthusiastic about having a go at the opening pair. He started off well, limiting the scores to singles and doubles, and kept the scoring rate under control (under 10, i.e.) Given the shortened form of the game, I thought anything in the neighborhood of 100 was achievable. Kranthi bowled a good first over, and was duly rewarded with a wicket in his first spell – a catch well held together by Sudhir, and ‘they’ were already one down.

The middle overs were particularly handled well by the two Ashish’s. While AshishP had a little bit speedy sting, AshishK stuck well to his line and lenght. It was encouraging to see very few extras given away, and that too in terms of wides. We did not trouble the scorer to scribble his blotted lines in the columns of no-balls and byes. For the opposition, Jay Makhija, the opener, looked to be in a good touch. He scored a patient 34. He was ably supported by his partners who returned one by one after 10-12 runs each. Towards the ‘death’ overs, AshishK bowled remarkably well and had we fielded all-11, we could have plugged the inevitable gaps that allowed a few boundaries. 10 overs completed and they looked to scrore big – around 120+, but thanks to wickets by Saurabh and tight last couple of overs by AshishK and Kranthi, we managed to contain the score to 111.

More than a few lines of applause are due here for Sahil (our manager's ~6 yr old son), who stood in the short fine-leg position and saved invaluable runs. He almost caught a stunner! Way to go little Sahil!

Oh, that’s Nelson’s number -111, (or a rather unlucky number for the Englishmen) was all I exclaimed as we returned to the ‘dressing room.’

To chase this target with only eight players in the side was a tough task, not impossible by any means. We had a plan of fielding an attacking player and a ‘wall’ together to add to the solidarity of the batting order. Sumeet and Sudhir walked in, with a big mountain of runs before them. Sumeet looked his confident self in fending off the few initial deliveries and got the scorecard ticking. Sudhir, unfortunately, fell to a full-toss, a rather deadly weapon that lures the batsman into a shot. The skier was taken and the scoreline read 2/1. The next few deliveries were well left for the ‘keeper and umpire was happy stretching his arms, signaling wides. The very next over, the ‘yellow cherry’ took edge of Sumeet’s bat and the catch was taken. MGEI-4’s scoreline:4/2. At this juncture I decided to go in, with only one thought: we don’t want to get all-out even though we have only 8 players (yeah, and Sahil, of course).

I had AshishP’s as an able partner who encouraged me and that helped calm some of my nerves. I always feel those when I am not off the mark. I left a couple of bad, wide balls, troubled the scorer to mark a few more dots in front of my name. By the third over, we were all set. AshishP was middling the ball well. I had got better of my nerves and we were ready to set sail at full towards the mammoth 112. By the fifth over we were 31/2 and a sign of botheration was already visible on the opposition’s faces. A few fielders managed a vociferous, friendly argument with the umpires, topic of which I have forgotten. I did not want all this to disturb our concentration out there (which, by the way was heating up quite a bit), and was happy taking my own time before taking guard. This trick seemed to help as it broke the bowler’s rhythm, yet added to a nice rapport between us to runners.

After a while, with score nearing 50, AshishP requested for a runner, and Sumeet was already out there the next second! This added to the energy and we stole, robbed, smuggled and burgled n number of runs in no time. Once we ran five, and another time, another four! The fielding standards were poor compared to the Kenyan side, and we had made up our mind to run for anything that was not ‘risky’.

I remember, in between, I drove, cut and pulled in succession and got three boundaries. That must have lifted the spirits of our team, and at the same time must have demoralized the opposition a bit. The opposition was strong, and I think they had their plan of tiring us out (which, I am afraid, worked in the end). With five fielders standing on the off-side boundary and three more on the leg side, it was almost impossible for me to hit any boundaries. I appealed to the umpire in the dying overs if there was any rule of minimum players inside the circle. To our dismay, there wasn’t!

I was involved in a rather unfortunate run-out of AshishP, Kranthi and then my very own. Sometime around 8th over, I think I miscalculated the asking rate, and that probably cost us the match. 28 in 8 balls was difficult on any track, and there I was, rather tired and those fielders looking at my stance through binoculars from the boundary!

Finally, we ended our 12 stipulated overs with 96 on board and 6 wickets down. That we showed a great fight and did not get bowled out was a great achievement in itself. We lost with some dignity and the opposition must have secretly admired the way we played and put up a good fight: after all, I think, that’s what every team dreams of.

We have the next game coming up in two week’s time, and I am sure, with full strength showing up on the field, we can beat the opponents in the next game.

I want to thank you all for the fantastic support and most importantly a game that we all would remember for a long time.

Back to the future!

On the eve of new year's day, Star Movies is airing one of the best trilogies ever made: Back to the Future (I, II and III), made by one of the greatest directors in the business: Robert Zemeckis (who also gave us Who Framed Rodger Rabit, Forrest Gump, Contact, Cast Away, What Lies Beneath and The Polar Express).

I have seen this series at least three times and am sure can watch it as many times as they can air it again. It has everything that's needed to make a winner: fantasy, science, humour, drama and subtle wit.

Well, with those many words, I'll be back in the future. And that should be the year 2007. Although I *hate* astrology, I can not help but reveal an interesting fact: year 2007 is that of pisces (or the fish).

Hmm. That'll be mine, please :-)

Wish one and all a very happy new year. May your year be free from nuisances of (breaking) news channels and may there be peace!

Common Cold

The winter has settled down in Bangalore quite comfortably. It had its own phases of heavy mist followed by no mist but very low temperatures, mild mists and lots of dew, clear skies and temperatures down -causing breaths to freeze once they exit the nasal openings; and many other flavors. And with the temperature steadily in the neighbourhood of 26-28 degrees max and 14-17 degrees min, I have finally caught cold.

The causes can be myriad. I usually reach office when the temperatures have still not started their upwards journey. The wind that sneaks through the visor of the helmet that's traveling at approximately 70 to 80 kmph can easily slip a few viruses of common cold down the throat. Or, recently I had to travel over-night in a so-called air conditioned bus. Then within an hour of departure the conditioning system had given up (according to the conductor, it was out of gas!), and it started to feel suffocating inside. To make things a bit more airy, the conductor opened up the top emergency opening to let the fresh air in. This was right on top of my seat. This must have invited more viruses. Lastly, only a day or two ago, after a rather tiring game of basketball I could not resist temptation of cold-milk, which was too cold to my liking; but at that time the thirst was calling the shots and I gulped down within two or three breaths.

The viruses accumulated and my nose finally gave up. Today morning when I woke up, I knew I had it. A mild cough, slight dizziness and warmer body was all it took for a nice attack of common cold to take me over. In the afternoon, watching the Indian batsmen quickly return to the comforts of the dressing room worsened my mood and with that the cold. I was quickly on to my second handkerchief of the day.

The common cold has three phases (at least, as my experience with it goes). For two to three days, it plays the waiting game. When you don't want it, it strikes. First day is bearable. You can contain the liquid oozing out of the nose quite comfortably. The second day it hits you hard; you can barely think. You can't sleep, nor can you sit upright. Basically, you are exhausted by doing absolutely nothing. Even the morning sunlight is not bearable, and at the same time, you don't want the coldness in the air. Finally, the attack subsides and third day onwards, the cold gets transformed into cough. At first it is mild, becomes a bit severe and finally after a week or so, it leaves you.

Fortunately, in the past year, I haven't had many cold attacks, thanks to the relatively fresh air in my neighbourhood and friendly temperatures set inside the office. In Pune, when I was studying electronics engineering, I had to cross a heavy traffic junction on my way to the college from my hostel room. The smoke would be unbearable at the rush hours, and in no time I would catch cold. At that time, it was yet another reason to bunk classes and do nothing. Or should I say, even that excuse was not necessary for our professors would take care of all the stress we were going through by not taking classes at all!

But now, I have don't like [it] cold. More so, as there is an olympics coming up at the office, and I would be the last person to miss it due to fitness reasons...

A friend of mine once suggested that even if there is no cure found yet for the common cold, it is not very difficult to beat it. One very good way he suggested to overcome it was: to write. I haven't had enough experience to prove it right or wrong, but I have certainly given it a try.

If you are wondering if it is the right occasion to catch cold as the new year's eve is just round the corner and one or two glasses of real cough syrup (which may be termed as spiritual treatment) would do me no harm: sorry mate, that's not for me! (Yeah, just to be on record...)

Zen

Zen (not Maruti Zen) will always remain a mystery.

As the story goes: there was a novice who wanted to know more about Zen and went in search of a master. In due quantity of time, he met one. Sitting beside a tree, he seemed to be meditating. So was the nature around it, oblivious to the master's presence, of course. The novice finally gathered courage and coughed slightly. When the master opened his eyes, he apologized for disturbing his calm, and asked him if he could enlighten him with the tremendous power of Zen art. The master agreed and asked to sit beside him. With eyes closed, he sat there for what may be termed as eternity. The novice could not control his anxiety, and for the very excitement of what may happen next, he patiently waited for those ages.

Nothing seemed to happen. And nothing did: much to the novice's disappointment.

Finally he decided to give up on his particular state of mind, and opened his eyes. Again coughing slightly, he pleaded the master to explain him what exactly was Zen.

And the master answered, "That was Zen."

The story is as mysterious as the Zen itself. I have not quite understood it even upon thinking about it for many times. Every time, I find some different meaning, a different shade of what I thought I had understood the previous time.

Recently, during one of the overnight bus journey, I came across something that may be called a Zen experience (I am not sure although!).

It was a cloudless sky, around midnight, winter was at peak and the temperature at its lowest. As the bus had to take a small diversion from the main high-way, it passed a small lane in an unknown town. With the air slightly misty, the visibility was not 100%. Around 20-30 metres away, I saw a street light. There was hardly and street that led to the light, yet it was switched on. There was hardly any living neighbourhood nearby too. With such backdrop, I found the street light quite amusing. It gave a very sharp cone of light, piercing the darkness with sharp edges. The mist added to the contrast between the dark and the light.

I had seen it just for a split second. The speeding bus took me away from it in the next half of the split second.

The street light was there. Quietly burning, spreading its sharp cone of light for eternity. And as far as me, the viewer was concerned, I knew I had experienced it: only the problem was I could not explain what it was.

Maybe that was a Zen experience. And at the same time, maybe it was not...

Up the Hill

The reason I don't work very hard is that I hate to be lonely.

I am told that there are a very few people at the top, you know... :-)

And here is another reason.

Me and them

Whenever there is an international summit or bilateral talks, news channels show two leaders greeting each other, saying a few words to each other. I have always wondered what kind of talk they must be having in such meetings.

Do these meetings start with 'open issues' and then move on to 'status,' or is it that the leaders in chief talk for a while and leave the matter to their subordinates? I have always had such curious questions about celebrities or world leaders, or even famous historic figures.

• Does a leader like Tony Blair take time out to watch his favourite program on BBC?
• Does Gen. Musharraf visit his favourite kebab place on every visit to Lahore?
• Does Aishwarya Rai paint her nails herself?
• Does Shane Warne's mom pat on his back upon every five-for?
• Does Dr. Manmohan Singh like Parle-G biscuits, or does he prefer cookies?
• Does Arundhanti Roy like Garfield comic?

I am sure all these great personalities must have their own ways of doing things.

They wouldn't forget the key in door lock (like I did today!) before going out. They wouldn't have to stand in long queues to fill air in bike tyres. A fan sitting next to them wouldn't spill coffee on them. They would always have change when the auto driver asks for; and suchlike.

All this excitement is for the ordinary-people class, which I am proud to be member of!

Some Days...

Are like this.

Nobody moves. Neither me. Nor Time.