Jai Pur

Last week offered me an opportunity to work out of my office's Noida branch. On a whim, I decided to go to Jaipur to spend the weekend as it afforded me an opportunity to visit a place previously only seen in movies such as Dor and The Last Exotic Marigold Hotel.

A friend generously offered a place to stay and lo, I went. Travelling alone is a very interesting process. There are good things like not having to rely on someone else's getting ready, their not being able to perform certain activities and hence you are left with having to make adjustments. When you are alone, generally you are in control of what you want to do, how you want to do it and where you want to go. The fact that you have no one to share your thoughts was something I felt stifling though, especially when being dumbstruck by the awesomeness of Amber Fort and Jaipur City Palace.

There was another plus, I have a more than decent grasp of Hindi and hence it was easy to navigate across places easily and bargain quite well. Generally, I avoid taking the A/C cabs or pre-booked tourist thingamajigs because they provide a very sanitised experience. Travelling in local transport - autos, share autos, rickety buses - really provide a flavor to a new place which you wouldn't get if you visit only the touristy destinations where all you might have are touts and fellow travelers. For someone who likes making observations, public transport is a haven to get that local feel and as long as my mind and body can afford it I hope to continue doing it, especially when alone. 

In my travels, I also got a chance to visit a place called Chowkhi Dhaani, a concept village built about 25 kms from Jaipur city. It's a kind of a mini-Rajasthan (at least that's what I was told) where various folk aspects of the state were demonstrated. Kathputli, magic shows, folk dances and songs, eating in huts etc. are some of the activities one can see and experience. The cost is Rs. 500 including unlimited buffet food. It was a reasonably good experience and I wouldn't mind seeing such villages sprout up all over India. But I guess Rajasthan being a tourist state has a greater incentive.

Next up on the agenda are Indore and Bhopal in the middle of the Indian summer , hope they provide enough interesting experiences and insights to this solo traveler.

There was something about Tony

I have a confession to make. For a major part of my life, till 2001, there was no cable television at home. My father had decided that it was an unnecessary distraction from my studies and here I was, stuck with a mad desire for cricket and denied my fix. Indians always figure a way out though and mine consisted of clambering up terraces and twisting our antenna wire with the coaxial cable television wires of our neighbours in the hope of catching some grainy signals. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Sometimes I got HD quality (okay, that's hype), sometimes all I could hear was the commentary. It was bizarre, but it was wonderful. I held on to whatever morsel I could get. Sometimes, in life, when you are denied something, that's when you desire it more. I remember so much cricket from that era and so little now when I can watch each match ball-by-ball it's probably nature taking it's course.  And it was somewhere here that I began my affair with a man who possessed the most magnetic voice of them all -Tony Greig.

I have always been enchanted by the early morning Channel 9 broadcasts from Australia. That was also a time when my parents and neighbours would be asleep and no one could detect my signal stealing. Bill Lawry, Richie Benaud, Ian Chappell and Tony Greig were my best friends. If mom and dad wanted to wake up to MS Subbulakshmi, I wanted to wake up to the Channel 9 commentary team. I could see bleary-eyed Tony Greig holding his Toyota keychain, inserting it to the pitch and telling us how hard or soft the pitch was, how much moisture it held and in general conveying an air of confidence that was captivating. I could hear Tony Greig boom out of the microphone "It's high in the air, Steven Waughr ( that 'r' is intentional) is getting under it and catches it safely". Bill Lawry and Tony Greig were masters at setting up scenarios with their breathtaking commentary. Ian Chappell preferred analysis and Richie Benaud subtle opinions but Bill and Tony took us on excellent adventures. Also, why Greig lingered longer was because he did a lot more commentary stints compared to Lawry and Benaud especially in the subcontinent and Sharjah.

When one is growing up, one gets excited more by drama than analysis. Greig personified drama, he owned it. When he announced "whadaaaplaaayaaah" to excited audiences in India we felt proud. We felt proud that an Indian has lit up the world cricketing stage. When Greig told us that Sehwag was the most exciting batsman he has seen at the start of the ICC Champions Trophy 2002, we too felt excited. There was a shared sense of entitlement, that here stands an Indian who has impressed the most dramatic commentator in the game.

As I grew older, I listened more to Chappell than Greig. As I was able to understand the game better, I felt Chappell had a lot more to tell - his stories were better, his understanding was greater and he was always willing to look at multiple points of view. With Greig, I felt that was missing. It might purely be my point of view, but I also felt it jarring when Greig was unable to remember player names. Greig mostly went with a 'he' instead of a player's name probably because he was unaware of the name and took the safer option. But, honestly, these are grouses that are rendered irrelevant now to me after reading the news of his death. A commentator leaving the stage is as important as a player retiring, their voices and acts are intertwined in our memories. The spate of retirements we are witnessing and the passing away of a unique commentator are plucking away the pages of my childhood and teenage years one by one and I cling to whatever I can.

Farewell Tony Greig (1946-2012).

Three days at the Chepauk

DISCLAIMER : Like the rhythms of a Test, my writing's tone may keep varying. Hope you can bear with it.

I love cricket. I watch a lot, some may say (okay, that would be my mom and dad) an unhealthy dose of it. I am not one of those who is for or against any format and love watching everything from BPL to IPL to the Ashes. I try and attend most matches that happen in my home city of Chennai varying from the Challenger Trophy to the Irani Trophy to Test cricket and IPL. I have watched a lot of cricket at my beloved Chepauk- sometimes alone, sometimes with two-three friends and sometimes with a horde of them. I am yet to attend a match with a member of the opposite sex, but let's leave that for another day.

THE SCENARIO

You may think why I am telling you all this. Well, to start off 22-24 February marks the first time I attend a Test match continuously for three days. It, as you may know, is the first match of four against Australia. Test cricket, in the way Neville Cardus and John Arlott described it, is indeed a glorious thing. It can never provide you instant gratification the way T20 cricket can. It takes time, a lot of time. Like today morning, when Siddle and Pattinson probe and probe. They keep at it. 10 overs. Less than 20 runs. It is not thrill a minute stuff. It is attrition, at it's best. Both the teams, locked in battle not willing to yield the crucial first hour of play. This is something you will never see in a limited over game. Then Tendulkar gets out, the crowd sulks. Some even go home. Their 'GOD''s quest towards an inevitable hundred is halted.

What happens next? In walks MS Dhoni, a suspect Test batsman. But, a messiah of the Chennai masses. He turns the game around in a manner reminiscent of Tendulkar the previous day. Tendulkar's is a short-timed assault aimed only at releasing pressure, Dhoni's is a more sustained one, to the tune of 200+ invaluable game changing runs. Whatever fault you may find with Dhoni with regards to his captaincy or Test batting skills, one thing you will always get from him is - commitment. He runs like his life depends on it, calculates risks, gets angry at Harbhajan for an ill-advised swipe, and shepherds Bhuvaneshwar Kumar, on debut in the process putting India in an extremely strong position from a point where it was anyone's game. This - this is something you can only see in a Test match. The rhythms, gear shifts, ups, downs, field changes, if you can spot them make for fascinating viewing.

THE WAIT

I would also like to focus on another interesting aspect of Test cricket. The wait. The interminable wait. You have watched Tendulkar finish the day undefeated on 71. You wait all evening and night long. Thoughts, possibilities pop into your mind. The thought of seeing Tendulkar in his last Test match at his favorite hunting ground. You have missed his 155* in '98, 136 in '99, his 126 in '01. You have regretted, despaired. This is your shot at redemption. A Tendulkar Test 100 is the pinnacle of your cricket watching career. You mull over it, sleep over it, even dream about it. And then comes Day Three. Potentially, the most crucial day of the Test match and the master is there to steer its course. Ah, the thrill. You park your bike at a friend's place. Take the train. See fellow passengers, all in anticipation. Hear stories. Think about telling your son in 2025 that you have watched a Tendulkar 100 over the course of two days. Smile to yourself, think about boasting to your friends spread across London, Detroit, Nesapakkam, KK Nagar that you were there. Watch people wear the same clothes on days two and three. Lucky charm they think they bring. It's beautiful, everything is beautiful. Then comes the master, the crowd roars, he glances one to fine leg for four. He comes closer. You shift in your seat and move closer. It's all there you think, all the signs point towards it. His walk, decisiveness. Even if he misses a few, you just coax yourself into believing that the mountain will be flagged. Lyon flights, invites the drive, he goes for it and misses. You assume the ball has missed the leg stump. But, then you hear the hush. A collective 30,000 mouthed gasp. It's over. He walks. People stand up, applaud, clap, bow. And he vanishes, into the pavilion and beyond. Your dream stands crushed. But, the wait, it is an experience that makes Test cricket unforgettable. It's slow burn, but it's luminous.

THE CROWDS

On day one, the numbers are low. Twitter and Facebook despair. They say Test cricket is dying. Chepauk, the last vestige is failing the Test. You are also disappointed. You imagine a cauldron of 40,000. Anyway, you move on. Sit next to a pair of old hands during the first session. Hear stories of how they smuggled in bottles of liquor in the 70's and got sloshed while watching Erapalli Prasanna fizz and GR Vishwanath buzz. You sink a bit more. Think how heavy-handed the security is today. You are asked to switch off your cell phone, albeit momentarily. You are not allowed re-entry. You think how crowds will turn up with such regulations. Ashwin then turns one past Cowan who has come down the track. A wicket has fallen. You rejoice. The local boy has done it. Watch the remaining sessions with a bunch of friends. Have fun. Wickets fall. Clarke shines. An even first day. Days two and three are truly wonderful. The crowds have swelled. Everyone diligently avoids the seats where there is no shade. You, thankfully are in comfortable seats. You meet a set of people you follow on Twitter. Marvel at their humor. Respect their cricket knowledge. Sometimes, the company determines your mood. Even when Harbhajan bowls tripe. you circulate jokes read on Twitter and laugh. Then things start moving. The Mexican Wave is up. Stand I begins the ruckus. You see it move, counter-clockwise. From yellow seats, to blue seats, to the commando chairs and then the Pavilion and MCC terraces. Old hands rise, young kids jump. All together. The collective again wins. The interactive screen, a new feature at the Chepauk displays messages. Clarke and Warner join in the banter, one does the Gangnam as well. All of you thank Clarke for being a sport. You see sons, dads, granddads, three generations sitting and enjoying the banter. A bunch decides to  holler "Askalakadi galagalagala", the rest chorus "Hoo ha, hoo ha". The pee-pees and whistles are out. People wake others from their post-lunch siestas. Some are still dozing, some are reading the Hindu. Lunch-boxes, a staple on Test match day are missing though due to the new rules, so are water bottles meant to create din by banging on seats. But, it's fine man.

THE END

You meet a Canadian who has stayed in Australia for the past five years and is here for the Test. You ask him, surprised what a Canadian is doing at the cricket and whether he watches ice hockey. He tells you that ice hockey is too fast for him and the pace of Test cricket suits him. You tell about a quote you have read recently "In the fast-paced world that we live in, we should be thankful that something called Test cricket still exists with all its idiosyncrasies."

And you wait again. For days four and five.

Image Courtesy : http://static.sportskeeda.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/Tendulkar_Chepauk-1111621.jpg

The Wenger Conundrum

There has been an intense clamor to remove Arsene Wenger as the manager of the Arsenal Football Club for a while. The reason that has been cited is his lack of ambition to win trophies for the club. It has almost reached a tipping point where he is being severely castigated for Arsenal's shock loss to Blackburn last Saturday in the fifth round of the FA cup.

I don't think the question here is a lack of ambition. Arsene very clearly wanted his best team to play Bayern Munich in the midweek fixture because he has ambitions of doing well in the Champions League, maybe even to the extent of winning it, however over-ambitious it may sound. He has prioritized the Champions League over the FA Cup, which speaks of his desire to win bigger and better things. Unfortunately, his desire and the team's abilities are somewhere not in sync, and it's causing much heartburn among supporters.

We are neither here, nor there. Stuck between the ordinary and the good. Let's see how the season pans out.

On Warne

I am currently reading Gideon Haigh's "On Warne". As expected, Haigh does utmost justice to his subject. Thought I should replicate verbatim the following lines from the book which struck a chord within me :

"Warne is perhaps a little unusual in always seeming so ready to be famous, so comfortable with the limelight, so accepting of reading about, talking about and watching himself. But once habituated to attention, eh apparently shared the sensations of Andre Agassi, who said that what struck him about fame was how normal it was: 'I marvel at how unexciting it is to be famous, how mundane famous people are. They're confuse, uncertain, insecure and often hate what they do. It's something we always hear - like that old adage that money can't buy happiness - but we never believe it until we see it for ourselves.' Warne was luckier than most, in that he loved what he did. And no wonder: it was always there for him."

Dash for Cash?

The English media have started the blame game. Andrew Flintoff is injured and out of the IPL. They have decided that the injury is because Fred decided to play for cash and put it ahead of country.Now, they feel their Ashes hopes are doomed as their beloved talisman will not be a part of THE GREAT EXHBITION (their marketing campaign for the summer of cricket to come).

Bullshit.

Could this knee trouble not have occurred when he was playing some county match or a practice game. We all know that Fred is injury prone and very rarely plays more than 5-10 matches straight especially in recent times. Also, what is wrong in an injury prone player earning some dough. It is not a great secret that Freddie was in it for the love of the money (he did show commitment when playing for CSK, that was never in doubt) and wanted to make hay when the sun shone. I feel there is absolutely nothing wrong with it.

Because some screwed up English journalist says the he should not play IPL, and has a bunch of cronies who yes-yes him, we should not be led to believe that Fred is a money chaser and has lesser commitment towards English cricket, which anyway is so outdated due to these critics.

Expecting a fit and firing Fred to be back next season. An avowed CSK fan.

Pretty Good eh.

When I drive I to office I usually get very bored. So, my mind wanders. Here's one thought that it picked up

The abbreviation PG

PG : Parental Guidance (Movies one cannot watch without one's parents)
PG : Paying Guest (Room where one does not stay with one's parents)

Diametrically opposite meanings, but same abbreviation.