Dream Big, Manifest Big

I have written a few emails to Kaanhvi for her to read at a suitable age. Thought would share this one (after some minor edits) as it would need amplification.

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Dear Kaanhvi,

Wish you a Happy 10 months. But this email is not about you, but something much much bigger. Attached is one of several pictures you will be seeing of Dadu in your lifetime. But this one is special – this has Dadu (along with Dadi, Dolly Bua, Rahul Phuphu and Yatee Didi_standing in Ram Janmabhoomi in Ayodhya, after their visit to the sacred temple of Ram Lalla.

This picture symbolizes the realization of a long standing dream Dadu carried, along with so many in his generation, and multiple generations after him. (A dream that so many before his generation had, but could not see fulfilled with their own eyes).

Circa Jan ’24, when a nation and a civilization were in a frenzy as the Pran Prathistha of Shree Ram was being held, your Dadu reminisced about how he had been manifesting about that day for so many decades. The manifestation was shared and amplified by billions across centuries, across generations, across rulers, across political parties, across dynasties, across governments. It took several known and unknown movements, sociopolitical changes, judicial changes, and the awakening of an entire country, but it happened.

His trip wasn’t without its share of adventure. An earlier trip was cancelled owing to Rahul Phuphu’s fractured toe; a bomb blast (and multiple thwarted ones) just 3 days before today prompting us to rethink. But the Darshan happened eventually; the universe conspired for it to happen.

And that is the power of manifestation. That is what happens when beliefs turn into vibrations, vibrations into energy, energy into motion, and motion into reality. The universe simply obliges.

So when I was discussing this with Vishal Chachu, we decided to manifest something which was also bigger than ourselves. We manifested that we could freely visit the beautiful valleys in Gilgit (currently part of PoK). Poonam Chachu agreed to join in our manifested plan when I told him about it. So here’s me - officially submitting my plea in writing to the universe. 

Hope you can add strength to this particular manifestation. This too will also take many known and unknown movements, geopolitical changes, military changes and the awakening of an entire country. But it will also happen. I choose to believe that it will happen – in your lifetime, if not mine. Hope I can take you to Gilgit soon, or maybe it will be you who will be taking me there. Maybe you’ll get to go without me. But there will be a day when millions of Indians will be able to contemplate going there.

Signing off with visuals of us standing in India Administered Gilgit / Free Gilgit, along with your Mom, and perhaps more loved ones.

Jai Shree Ram!!

Love you.

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What's Your Everest?

In the movie Kung Fu Panda, Tai Lung is surprised to see Po as the Dragon Warrior, and calls him a big fat panda. To this, Po replies that he is not a big fat panda, but THE big fat panda. We'll come to the relevance of the scene later, but just wanted to share that I trekked to Everest Base Camp (EBC). This blog post is not a chronicle of our 15 day journey (perhaps we will make a video in the days to come). Just thought would digitize few thoughts I had. 

The Plan - Such a plan requires immense motivation and thorough planning. Hahaha. Just kidding. There is a very annoying video on the internet [Link] where people say "Kar lo" for everything, but never do anything beyond it. Many of our plans are like that. This was meant to be one such proposal. Affirmations were received, but we knew enough people would have surely backed out, and the plan would have been cancelled eventually. Registration? Haan Kar lo - there was a decent cancellation policy. Training? Haan Kar lo - we were doing morning walks, just needed to up the ante. Shopping was done in auto-pilot mode. Refundable tickets were made. Everyone was too occupied to think it through and be practical about it. The realization of what is happening finally dawned upon us when 20 people came to see us off at the Guwahati Railway Station. I asked Poonam, "Ab EBC plan ka kya karein?"  There could only have been one reply, "Haan Kar lo".

An Unfit Guy Who Registered - A very dear friend allegedly used me as a benchmark in a public forum whose example people could take to register for the trek. "If the unfit guy can register, so can you." In order to save Minakshi from being trolled, I will not take that person's name. But if my case inspires people, so be it. Come on guys, push yourselves. You are better than what you/others think. Get out of your comfort zone, be it any sphere of your life. Find your own Everest. 

The Stone Age Returns - After getting renal stones surgically removed twice before - the last being 7 months ago, another small one had resurfaced in my kidney just 10 days before my departure. I completed the trek carrying regular and emergency medicines after cajoling the doctor to give me a green flag. People bring stones from the EBC as souvenirs. I took one there, and brought it back. 

Trek The Himalayas - This is not a paid promotion (this blog doesn't even have that reach), but Trek The Himalayas were exemplary in their service. At every step and at every halt, they went above and beyond. Thank you, Sukhram, Lukpa and the Team - you made our experience even more memorable. 

The Gang - The plan was made with Vishal and Poonam. Abhishek surprisingly agreed choosing to fly from and to Houston. Poonam roped in Sumit and Nikhil, who in turn convinced Aditya. Aashish made a grand entry two weeks before the start. The importance of the Gang cannot be emphasized enough. We were the oxygen to each other, motivating one another, pulling them, clicking their pictures. It is difficult to envision if this quest would have been completed without the whole gang. Cheers to old friends, and new. 

The Ones Who Missed Out - I missed you, Gunjan. There was not a single picture clicked where I didn't wish you were with me. I know that with proper training, you could have completed this. Please know that I carried love for you, and cognizance of your sacrifice to 18,000 feet. 

Vivek, you rascal - you were the one who had sowed the seeds of EBC in me and Vishal 11 years ago. Missed you, you jerk. Ankur Bhaiya, Lalit, Roshni and Raghav - you had dangled with the thought of registering for some time. May you do it in the coming years and create your own stories. 

The Experience - The magnanimity of what we had done while climbing up hit us when we were climbing down - we were left in self-awe of how we had ascended those mountains. The first 4000 mtrs elevation could have been about physical strength, but mental strength was equally important beyond that - and our group had such an important role to play in pepping one another up. I rue backing out of the Kalapathar excursion - perhaps that will be my "99.94" as far as this trip goes. I know I speak for all of us when I say that this will be an experience we will all look back with immense pride and fulfillment. As Poonam had pointed out, the tagline of the movie Lakshya fits perfectly for us. We know that we are capable of facing any challenge life has to throw at us. No matter what happens in future, we will always have EBC. 

Just like our Ladakh saga, perhaps this trip will also have a spin-off story. Coming back to Kung Fu Panda - Guys, I am not an unfit guy who registered, I am THE unfit guy who COMPLETED the Everest Base Camp Trek.

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The Destiny of Burden

 “God, it’s killing me”. -- Roger Federer after the 2009 Australian Open Finals loss to Nadal.

You know you've lost all your writing knack when you have to resort to the same opening lines used in another blog post. But, what do you do when these are the thoughts you wake up with, on the bluest possible Monday morning?

WhatsApp and Social Media have been inundated by posts on how we should be proud of the Indian Cricket Team, and not abuse them/their family on social media. The general outpouring of love and support at them has, in fact, been heartening. I AM proud of the Men in Blue, will always be. I AM proud of the "brand of cricket" they have conjured in the past seven weeks. Abusing anyone on social media was never a consideration. But none of those messages have told me how to cope with this setback heartbreak soul-crushing at a personal level. 

Raghav had commented before the start of the match of how the next few hours were going to define our mental state for the next 10 years. I'll be bluffing if I say that cricket is just a game for me, and for many I know. The World Cup was not so much about the players, it was more about us. (Hadn't we ditched a seemingly indispensable Pandya because his absence seemed to bring desired results in a few matches, before it came to haunt us in the finals?). 

Federer would have been proud of the "brand of tennis" he would have been playing leading upto that loss (and some gut wrenching losses preceding that). Yet, he was upset dejected destroyed by the outcome of that match. The runner-up feat was no consolation to him. The likes of Kohli, Sharma, Bumrah, Shami were all destroyed by the loss as was evident from the visuals available - more than what the visuals portrayed, more than we can ever fathom, more than we can ever empathise. None of them were probably thinking about the potential abuses that could come their way. Yet, it was killing them. 

In the brilliant season finale of Loki Season 2 (titled 'Glorious Purpose'), Mobius comments to Loki that 'most purpose is more burden than glory'. The Indian cricketers were within striking distance of glory; yet, will have to carry a lifetime of burden. The burden will be shared by the fans. The glory for us will perhaps come in another season. Some cricketers will never have another shot at it.

Over the last few hours that I have been awake, I have been dissecting the final match. It has been almost theatrical in the sense that a version of me dressed in white robes has been in zen mode, saying that the boys gave it their best and one bad day should not define them. They have not just won, but annihilated oppositions in the road to the finals. Ohh the joy they have brought in our lives for all these weeks! Another version of me dressed in black robes, perhaps as a cold and calculating judge concerned not with purpose but results, has been questioning the reading of the pitch, and the mid-inning tactics. What prompted the management to go for the pitch they did, a move which backfired grandly? How does one explain only 4 boundaries in the last 40 overs? In Tennis, it is always about one bad game. India have lost only 4 games (out of 28) in the last 3 World Cups, yet have come out as losing finalists or semi-finalsts. (Both these versions were encapsulated by Abhishek and Madhukar in our WhatsApp group). 

There are comparisons with 2003, and many have commented that it was worse two decades ago. In season 2, Loki masters "time slipping" and is able to re-orchestrate the same event again and again hoping for a better result. What makes 2023 worse for me is the knowledge that, unlike 2003, we were the better team of the two now. If the same match were re-orchestrated again and again, India would emerge triumphs more often than not. 

The cricketers, support staff, management will have to take the hard grind, and don the purpose of burden for more time. No amount of dissection has given me any answer, or brought me any closer to it. Loki had seemingly found his glorious purpose - that of being able to oversee his friends happy. But time slipping is not an option, the Indian Cricket Team fans will have to continue to wait for the future. 

It will be a long and agonizing wait, but as a perennially optimistic fan, am hoping it will be met with glory some day.

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Home Sweet Home

 There is enough written material romanticizing the first love or the first job, yet strangely very few about the first home.

Papa and Mummy (the last two inhabitants of the house) will be shifting to Guwahati, and we are spending our last night at my first home in Shillong. I have been gripped by a plethora of emotions. My first den! My first abode! The place that became My Home, even before I got to learn the distinction between a house and a home. The place I was born and brought up in for the first nineteen years of my life, and the dwelling that had always, always, been my comfort zone in all the subsequent ones.

As Mom and Gunjan have been packing stuff the whole day, I have been trying my best to pack some memories. Both the groups will be leaving so much behind. 

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The place I would have pestered my parents with my first demands;
The place I would have turned upside down while holding my sisters' hands.

The place which introduced me to a joint family,
Trust me, at one stage this place housed 16 people easily.

The place I would have had my first laugh, the place I would have first cried;
The place where I would have first fallen, and then gotten up and retried.

The place witness to my first success, and also the first failure;
And then seen me through it until I had something to cheer.

Holidays meant non-stop cricket on the front porch;
And then on Mom-cooked food we would gorge.

The place saw me hosting my first ever friends;
Some have drifted away, while others have lasted through all of lives' bends.

The place I experienced my first emotions - be it hope, fandom, love, or envy;
Ohh boy, within me lie faint fragments of memorable stories aplenty!

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In the world of astrology, the "first house" is believed to be about the self and defines one's persona. It wouldn't be wrong to say that this house has influenced me in so many ways.

People who know me would agree that I have always been an ambassador of Shillong. Letting go of this house seems like the umbilical cord with this great city has been cut (even though there are still enough loved ones here).  

I'll miss my first home in Shillong, a place which will always be my 'Rosebud'!

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It's a Wonderful Life

I've completed the 'IMDB Top 250' challenge twice. Since the past 15 years, I've rated every movie on IMDB. In this wonderful journey, I've come across some pretty stellar movies.

It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is one such movie. It deals with the character of James Stewart who is about to end his own life. The heavens decide to intervene, and send an angel to stop him from doing that. The angel takes him back in time to show an alternate universe of how different (and wretched) things would have been for people around him, had he not been a part of their world.  He is made to realise how he has touched all their lives in such a wonderful way, either wittingly or unwittingly. 

In real life, the heavens will not always intervene - not directly. It is left upon us to play the part of the angel. A certain event recently had left me deeply unsettled. We are in the last few days of Mental Health Awareness Month, and I have been meaning to write something since a few weeks. Perhaps, just like the actions we can do to help our near and dear ones, this blog is better off being late than never. 

Mental illness is just like any physical ailment. It makes the brain react to situations in a manner which may be different to how a healthy brain would have. And just like most physical ailments, it can be cured too. The greatest road block for mental illness is the taboo associated with it, which prevents people from seeking help, or which restricts the resources available to them.

A number greater than we would like to imagine is affected by it in various forms and degrees. We should talk about it, and seek help. The brain can be conditioned to help weed out various behaviours and thoughts. This can be done through self-help, discussions (I cannot emphasise enough about the importance of the unwitting discussions), or professional intervention. For starters, we should acknowledge its existence, and treat it like what it is – a curable disease. There is a whole industry dedicated to it, and for most cases we have our friends and family. Share. Talk. Support.

The movie in the title ends with a line from the angel to the character of James Stewart: 'No Man is a Failure Who Has Friends'. Perhaps we should realise that things aren't always as bad as we perceive them to be, and we are not always alone – there is always somebody out there. Perhaps we should all try to be a friend here for the people who need it, even if they might not realise it. 

After all, it IS a wonderful life!!!

 

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RIP Swati Ma'am

 Swati Ma'am had taught me Maths and Physics. And so much about Life and Living. 

She would often encourage me to write more often. And today, as I sit near the laptop to try and give shape to so many thoughts that are swirling in my mind, it is because she is no more with us.

I'm as devastated and shocked as all of you who have known her, and as much at a loss, at her pre-mature departure. Even in times where most news has been negative news, this one is the abyss, and has broken me in a way I could never have imagined. 

She was the best teacher you could ever hope to find, a great cook, and most importantly, she had the kindest heart ever. 

Despite having taught thousands of students, she had a personal connect with each of them. She took a personal interest in all their lives, and remembered everything about them. Remembering (and nurturing) love lives was her forte. Hell, she even knew about me and Gunjan, perhaps even before we did. 

One will find her comment in every post of her student - she always tried to keep in touch with every body. 

Shock and devastation gives way to so many wonderful memories in her company. Memories of the silly games we played in her tuitions, the treats, the gossips, the agony aunt sessions, the motivational speeches, and not to forget her teachings. 

Warm, fun-loving, kind, empathetic, genius, witty are few of the adjectives which would aptly describe her. 

If ever there is a person who fits the bill of 'friend, philosopher, and guide', it is her. 

Ma'am, wish you had not left us so soon. You have no idea how many lives you have touched in a wonderful way. Your departure is unfair. Wish I had kept in touch more. But I pray that you find peace wherever you are. 

Will always remember you wearing that wonderful smile. You will be missed, always. 

Om Shanti. 

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A New Strain of Hope Mutates

 <Written after India’s 2-1 victory over Australia today, but much of the feelings and the blog would have been the same even if we would not have won>

Only a 90’s kid will know that being a 90’s kid is not easy. Perhaps “only 90’s kids will remember” that the internet is full of memes and trivia to remind them of their place in the conundrum of time. One thing common about all these forwards is the invocation of their memories.  

So what memory does a cricket fan have of his childhood? Desert storm, Kumble’s 10, Jadeja tearing into Pakistan’s bowling in Bangalore, Dada in Toronto, any of Sachin’s tons? Before we all became polarized over politics, Sachin vs Warne was the only debate we took part in (and wasn’t even much of a debate as there was hardly ever anyone on the other side). But if we introspect with any honesty, these wonderful memories were like oases in an otherwise desert full of not too good memories.

When Sachin scored the wonderful 169 in Cape Town, the rest of the team just folded. How can anyone forget Prabhakar and Mongia shutting shop in that Kanpur ODI with 7 an over required in an ODI in the last 9. Heck, the Indian Team had refused to try and chase 87 in the last hour - months after winning the World Cup. India couldn’t chase 120 in Bridgetown. The Chennai surrender after the super-hero knock. Meek surrenders in Jamaica, Jo’berg, Old Trafford, Sydney.

Gosh. I still wake up sweating at night.

The hallmark of those growing up years was hope. No matter how bad the situation, you would concoct scenarios for the team to crawl out of it to end up victorious. Now don’t lie even you would have done it. Hope was beautiful but it also crushed you. The hope never somehow ascended to the players

Then we grew up in terms of age and cynicism. Witnessing miracles was not part of our daily to-do lists. Priorities changed. Cricket was still always in the front burner, but the emotional involvement decreased. What caused sleepless nights became “Onto the next project, job, house, interview, etc” (PS - Not taking a jab at Kohli, or maybe I am). The tears were replaced by mere devastation at losses. Don’t get me wrong, there were always brilliant performances to keep one hooked but the hope quotient had fallen.

Even after the last series win (also happens to be my last cricket blog before this), I had written about the context of the victory in terms of the cricketing history. But this one is different. This is many levels up in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. This is like the cuddle after sex. For me, the hope was never there (or atleast I hoped it wasn’t there) in dire situations. I was wary of hoping, yet the Team matched the opponents punch for punch, they braved ball after ball, they weathered every storm, they took in every blow, adversities were turned into opportunities. They refused to buckle. They were high on hope. They believed. The tears of joy were back for me.

They never surrendered. The result is a by-product.

Pura bachpan sapno mein nikal daala, aur jab aaj bade hue toh phir bachpana yaad dila dala. 

Every good memory I have of cricket (and trust me there are a lot) mostly involves individual brilliance, some moments of magic, a partnership or at best multiple people chipping in with superlative performances. But this is straight out of a long-drawn process and that feels so fulfilling. You may credit Dravid for it, Shastri for it, or Kohli, or Rahane but the outcome feels so so so overwhelmingly good, and more so the process, the manner, the context.

Context makes everything even better. And this tweet provides all the context you need. Add to one youngster missing the last rites of his parent, another missing his child birth. Sledged, abused, bruised, and battered, but ready for the next thing to be thrown at them, ready to prove that they belong, to show that they have not given up hope.

In a brilliant tribute to the team made even before the test ended having Sunny Paji’s voice over (Disclaimer: goose bumps may happen), the maker chose an extended footage of Thakur hitting that six to get to his 50. That partnership (also having a ‘no-look’ six from Sundar, besides a third one) was a metaphor for the tour. With 260 behind with 5 gone, Obituaries written, two people having no business playing for India on that day decided to show grit. Between the 36 in Adelaide, and those 3 6s in Brisbane, so much had changed.     

Here’s to hope, and to peaceful sleeps. This series has given so much for everyone to remember, and so much for the 90’s kid to reminisce.

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Corona Chronicles Part 2...

Part One of the Blog can be found here.

Day7 : 

I miss junk food. I also miss the lengthy excel worksheets and graphs of office. 

The missus is still reading a book on ‘The Law of Attraction’, and reiterates the importance of positive thoughts, as they have the potential of taking shape in reality. I decided to count the number of thoughts I have about junk food every passing minute, and plot them in the form of a graph.

Voila, the graph actually took the shape of junk food. The missus is always correct. QED.

Suggested reading : ‘The Secret’ by ‘Rhonda Byrne’

Unfortunate news of the assembly in Nizamuddin Markez comes to light. More unfortunate is the blame game all around, and the kind of defence being brought forward, of which even Dravid would have been proud. I generally tackle controversial topics in my blog as Dravid would do to a ball outside off (“Well Left”). But if you still blame the authorities even after Delhi Police released a video of their polite requests to vacate; if you still blame the authorities after it took the NSA head of a nuclear capable country to actually ensure evacuation, then sorry to say something is as wrong with you as the public tussle between Sachin and Dravid after the 194* declaration.

Talking about the royal Sachin and the reliable Dravid, I had cooked Rajma Chawall for dinner. 

Day 8:

The news of cancellation of Wimbledon comes. Could it be an April Fool’s Joke? Nopes it isn't. The news was just a matter of time actually. Never been a planner in my life, but I had been planning and saving up for a couple of years to watch Federer play in the Wimbledon. Have non-refundable tickets for London for July. Sigh. This time, the joke is on me.

I miss sports - the action, the scores, the trivias, the discussions and all the articles. To think that Kanika Kapoor alone has featured in more tests in 2020 than the likes of Kohli, Bumrah and Rohit Sharma combined.

Suggested reading : This wonderful article by Rohit Brijnath, arguably the greatest sports writer of our times, on what sports means. 

There is news and video of some of the Tablighi Jamaat patients spitting on healthcare workers. People angry at the perceived victimization of the patients, no, this is not what “Gussa Thuk do” means. 

Cooked risotto for dinner. Since the corona outbreak has made us all used to exponential graphs, here’s one from my side on time taken on various activities related to food.

Day 9:

It’s been Nine years since India’s World Cup victory. And it falls on Day Nine of the lockdown. Dhoni was Nine short of his century that night. Gambhir was short by 3 (which is the square root of - guess what - Nine). That shot to which he got out to would have rankled him at least 99,999 times since then, as is evident from his Twitter break-down. (The “misses” is what makes sports as beautiful as the “hits”, but that is for another day - Bradman’s 99.94 would be the perfect case in point). All numerologists can orgasm Nine times.

Suggested reading : This blog by Sidvee, summarizing the collective feelings of a whole nation on that day. 

Stepped out of home for the first time since the lockdown (apart from a quick dash to a pharmacy across the street) - a visit to the departmental store to get groceries. The departure was reminiscent of the George Clooney - Carmen Electra scene in 300; and my arrival with the grocery bags was like Bahubali carrying the Shivling on his shoulders. I could hear the music playing in the background. There is no lockdown for imagination, and you are free to picture me in those scenes, just like I did.

The store had taken the necessary precautions in respect of social distancing and letting a limited number of people in at one point of time. But.. ok wait let me employ a cluster chart to explain. 

News coming in about some Tablighi Jamaat patients making lewd gestures at nurses and roaming half-nude. No, this is not what the doctors meant when they were appealing for ‘complete transparency and not hiding anything’. 

I had already said that I wouldn’t be playing Housie for a while, but Hemanto Biswa Sarma keeps on calling out new numbers at regular intervals :(

Day 10:

It is the missus’ birthday. Prerna Bhabhi compiled a video for her with messages from family and friends. She had not asked Modiji, probably thinking that he would be busy in other important tasks which the current situation demands. Err.. but then Modiji decided to come up with a video message of his own.

Suggested reading: This old blog by me, describing the day I met Gunjan Emma Watson’s ballroom scene in Harry Potter movie series. 

We played Antakshari online. We’ve come a long way - from Close Up Antakshari to Lock Down Antakshari. Legend has it that lights would be lit automatically when Tansen sang the Raag Deepak, and they would go off when someone else sang it in an unmelodious way. If only Modiji would have planned to play out the audio of our game at 9pm on the 5th, he wouldn’t have had to worry about people switching off their lights.

Cooked for the missus again on her special day. The standard has fallen so much that I’ve started liking my own cooking. Zomato, Swiggy and the ilk, sorry for the constant hiccups you would be getting. What better tool than a ‘pie-chart’ to visualize the number of times I have had ‘positive’ thoughts about them. 

News and videos emerge about stone pelting across multiple states on health care professionals trying to help some Tablighi Jamaat attendees who could be at risk. Sigh, this is not what people had meant when they had asked us to ‘fight at all costs, and throw at it all we’ve got’. 

Day 11:

Woke up to news of refund being processed for the missus’ birthday gift which the e-commerce portal had cancelled.  Others, you can please ignore this message. It was very important for me that I put it here. Thanks for understanding.

Have managed to reduce my Feedly feeds (articles marked for reading later) to 40%. Some of the articles were more than 4 years old. No, didn’t read them, simply removed them because they had turned irrelevant now. The following Venn Diagram tries to explain the correlation which will always be there whenever I try to clean the feeds.

News and videos emerge about some likely infected people smearing currency notes and vegetables with their saliva and mucus. Morons, when my missus talks about spreading positivity, she does not mean Covid-19 positivity. 

Had another Hangout session with college friends. Really fun times. We were careful to not share the meeting credentials with many people, else Modiji would have joined too.

Suggested reading: This old blog by me about life in college. 

Day 12:

Weeks and months (or maybe even years) from now, when the whole thing passes away, stories will be written about peoples' deeds. Legends, on how the odds were defeated, will take birth. The world will see new heroes who played small or big parts in overcoming the situation. Songs and eulogies will be written on the deserving. Hagiographies will be made. The world will surely emerge better and stronger. What each one of us was doing during this war against Corona would become part of folklore. The women in my family would also be telling the future generations of how they accepted the Saree challenge, and emerged successful. 

I had completed the IMDB Top 250 List in Feb 2013, and had kept the ever changing list completed till about 2016. During the past few days, I have been watching movies from here and plan to tick off all movies in the list by the time the lockdown ends. Some wonderful movies here, and it was, and is again proving to be an amazing journey.

Suggested reading: This blog by Poonam written on completion of his IMDB Top 250.

I will participate in the lighting of the lamp tonight at 9pm, because you know, spreading positivity is important, and this could be a way.

Coming back to Poonam’s blog, he says that a journey of this magnitude is tough and compares it to that of the Hobbit’s (a movie which used to be on the list). Now, after watching the LOTR saga what had excited me most when The Hobbit was announced was that Benedict Cumberbatch would be playing the voice of Smaug. With a voice so powerful and outreaching, he could have made Smaug one of the most powerful characters and a performance to remember. Instead, the script had left so much to be wanting. I confess to feeling the same way about Modiji’s last video message to the nation.  

Another movie in the list which I had the chance of seeing  was The King’s Speech (no longer there). A film where the heir apparent overcomes his stammering problems to deliver a speech as the King on radio when Britain goes to war in 1939; addressing the important issues, boosting the morale of those fighting and the entire nation; giving out assurances. The international media is biased against India (Exhibit: Instances of reporting from a journal based in a country which has taken the most botched up measures to the Corona outbreak), most of the national media has gone to the dogs (a section of it is also biased in the government’s favour), propaganda runs amok even at the times of such crisis, there is blame game (including by the ruling party). Real issues take the backburner and non-issues become important. Positivity is required, and in abundance. But before spreading positivity, the negativity needs to be quashed. Measures are doubtlessly being taken, but we need to hear about it. The court jesters will perhaps continue to amuse, but we really need to hear the King Speak - about some real important issues - and there is only one Man capable of delivering it.   

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Corona Chronicles Part 1.. The Key in a Lock Down..

Day 1 : 
I distinctly remember this day because the MP from Wayanad had tweeted something stupid, and media had carried reports of how the leader has come of age.

The day starts with the missus cajoling me into making lock down resolutions. Done - why should only new year resolutions be broken!


Someone in my whatsapp contacts has received a message directly from Russia about lions being left free on the roads to force people to stay at home. No one would even think about spreading these rumours about China, as the lion would eventually end up being eaten. Gullible people in my whatsapp contacts, please forward this message to 10 lions to become the king of the jungle.

Suggested Viewing: This video by Abhineet on racism against people of the North East in the times of Corona.

The day ends with a group chat in Hangout with college friends. It was wonderful. There were 9 participants who were divided by geographies and timezones, but united by the belief that liquor should come under essential items.

Day 2 :
I distinctly remember this day because the Gandhi scion had tweeted something stupid, and media had carried reports of how the leader has come of age.

The missus and I still haven’t fought yet. Something’s gotta give soon. I can feel the eyes of Sauron fixated on me, waiting for me to make a wrong move.

Someone in my whatsapp contacts has received a message directly from the CM’s office about some drastic measures being taken in relation to the lockdown. Wish the CM had time to take drastic measures on how to tackle rumours. Gullible people in my whatsapp contacts, please forward this message to 15 MLAs to become CM of your state for one day.

Suggested viewing: This video by Vipul Goyal on what needs to be done with China.

We played housie over whatsapp and Hangout with the family. There was no mechanism in place to check if the numbers being called out by the ‘winners’ were actually in his card. Hehe, I had won.

Day 3 :

I distinctly remember this day because a former MP from Amethi had tweeted something stupid, and media had carried reports of how the leader has come of age. 

My emails tell me that so many companies/NGOs I have no effing idea about are standing in solidarity with me during these tough times. Ok, means a lot. Marked all as spam. 

Someone in my whatsapp contacts has received a message directly from a doctor that the actual number of cases in India is being hidden. The doctors have decided to self-isolate themselves from whatsapp. Gullible people in my whatsapp contacts, please forward this message to 32 people and get a free dental check-up. 

Missus is reading a book on Law of Attraction which says that if you strongly believe something to be happening, it will happen. Made a curry with Soyabari and Potato, believing them to be chicken in all earnestness and hoping it would taste like chicken. Well let’s just say it is a good book otherwise. 

Had lengthy discussions first with Vivek, and then with Poonam and  Tanushree on different investment strategies we can adopt in these uncertain times. Even I contributed with my punditry with the is/was/will be of the investment world. The missus then plainly pointed out that I don’t actually have spare money to invest.

Day 4 : 

I distinctly remember this day because the former INC president had tweeted something stupid, and media had carried reports of how the leader has come of age. 

Videos surface of people being beaten up by the police. The missus enquires if any of them are from my locality. I’m a little scared as to the motive of her enquiry. Checked the fridge - we’re stocked up for a few days. Some temporary relief. 

Someone in my whatsapp contacts has received a message directly from a relative who had borne a baby girl, who turned into Durga and prescribed a remedy to tackle the Corona. Gullible people in my whatsapp contacts, please forward this message to nine people and grow an extra hand this Navratri (Bachelors or people currently separated from their wives due to this lockdown: no, I did not mean for that).

Suggested viewing: This wonderful ‘poem’ on staying at home.

Caught up on a couple of good movies (Ford vs Ferrari and Knives Out). Another online housie with another family group. This time tickets were being checked, and I did not win.

Day 5 : 

I distinctly remember this day because the youth icon from Congress had tweeted something stupid, and media had carried reports of how the leader has come of age.

It’s Sunday today, no office. Lol. Tears. Lol.

Very disturbing news about the crowding of migrant population in Delhi. The ramifications are scary. Hope the authorities can stop their blame game and may better sense prevail.

Talking about better sense, it’s been over 100 hours and the missus and I still haven’t fought yet. The eye of Sauron is getting impatient with each passing hour. The Fellowship of the Ring has decided to meet on video calls, to social distance themselves. Good reviews for Zoom, but the free model has limitations, so Gandalf suggests that they choose Hangout instead. Someone in my whatsapp contact has received a message from Frodo that Samwise was actually a Chinese and has eaten Golum. Gullible people in my whatsapp contacts, please forward this to the whole of Middle Earth else you will turn into an ogre. 

Suggested Viewing: This video by TVFPlay on the importance of staying at home.

Meanwhile, in news totally unrelated to fights with the missus, the Mahabharat is being aired on National Television. Also saw ‘Theory of Everything’ today. Or was it yesterday, or the day before yesterday? Sorry to let you down Mr Hawkins, but I seem to have lost all concepts of Time.

Day 6 : 

I distinctly remember this day because an accused in the National Herald case had tweeted something stupid, and media had carried reports of how the leader has come of age.

Played Housie for the 5th consecutive day, even acted as the facilitator in one of the groups. On his retirement Sachin had said that chants of “Sachin Sachin” would forever reverberate in his ears till he stopped breathing. If I play any more Housie games, chants of “Boggie Boggie” are going to reverberate for me.

Someone in my whatsapp contacts declares that he knows for sure that the lockdown will definitely extend for more than 21 days (perhaps heard directly from the Terminator travelling back in time from the future). Wonder if the makers of Terminator would want to make a movie on someone travelling back in time, failing to have factored in a lockdown, only to find the streets empty, and getting ‘dandas’ from the police. Gullible people in my whatsapp contacts, please forward this message to 21 people and the producers of Terminator will be giving you royalty from their next movie. Go on, Skynet is the limit.

By the way, how would you have reacted if 2 years ago someone had approached you saying he is from the future and that a virus had impacted the whole planet. He would have narrated that half the planet has locked down, and the human race faces extinction; industries were shut, share markets went crashing and the roads wore a deserted look; world leaders and health experts were urging people to stay at home to limit its spread. He would have given you a vial which contained a prototype of the vaccine and asked you to get it mass produced and ensure it is administered to every living individual, to prevent such a scenario.

He would have sounded stupid, right? Which brings me to my epiphany - what if Shri Rahul Gandhi is not stupid - only ahead of his times. You have the rest of the lockdown to brood over this thought. Stay safe.

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The day I met Gunjan

Well, the missus always complains that I hardly write anything about her on my blogs. So thought would dedicate a whole post to her. And what better way to start than writing about the day when I first met her.

***

She peeped from behind the pillar. She looked nervous. She couldn’t decide if she should walk down from the stairs into the ballroom hall. She wasn’t even sure if she belonged there. She had no idea that a few moments later she would be making the entire gathering nervous and handing them a sense of un-belongingness. She fully emerged from behind the pillars. Parvati was the first to notice, and immediately announced, “She looks beautiful”. That was the understatement of the century (succeeded by 'this time there is no Modi wave'). She could well have said 'She looks like a Goddess' and gotten away with all blasphemy charges - even in Bengal.

She started her walk down the stairs hesitantly, the nerves slowly giving way to a smile. Her hair was elegantly done in a knot, with some strands deliberately skipped to be left hanging by her left cheek. The skipping of some of my heart beats was not deliberate though. The robe, perhaps chiffon, exhibited various shades of pink and purple. The other shades that made a rainbow had ceased to become relevant at that moment. The black belt at her hips perfectly showed off her hour-glass figure. But for me, no sand was flowing through any hour-glass - time had completely frozen. The ruffles and frills completed her dress, even as giant waves of hypnotism swept me off the floor.

She took another step and her face was clearer now. There was a hint of lipstick on those perfect lips of hers. Diamond ear rings gleamed, but looked pale in comparison to the sparkle in her eyes. The smile grew more confident, and more mesmerizing. She knew she owned the place now, as she reached the final step.

My phone beeped, so I paused ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’, even as a hint of blush took over Hermione/Emma Watson's stunning face.

Gunjan had agreed for our first date. We met at Bombay Bites that evening (In totally unrelated news, the place has now closed down). We ordered chocolate muffins, cheese chilli toast and coffee.

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The pact, and the impact!!!

It was early December 2018. Poonam and I were discussing about the monotony in our lives and how we needed a dramatic pact like the one in ZNMD bull-fighting scene do egg us on to do something different. Since Spain is not on top of either of our holiday lists, we decided to base it on something else (the fact that both of us lack the courage to even go near a bull also contributed, but let’s not get into the specifics please). We decided that I will write a blog again, and Poonam will compose another song if India were to win the test series against Australia. We joked that I could blog about his song, and he could compose a song on my blog, but that would have posed a Catch 22 situation which had the potential to make Joseph Heller turn in his graves. So I decided to base my blog on its catalyst – India’s series victory.

“India have won a test series in Australia.” The words are special. Ask any cricket fan that. Ask anyone of my generation who’ve put in many an alarms for early mornings hoping for magic, only to be disappointed each time - until now. 

The 1991-92 tour or the 0-4 scoreline invoke no memories within me. But recordings of that Sachin hundred (and the awe expressed by the commentators) in Perth are nothing short of pornography.

In 1999-2000, after desert storm and Warnie’s nighmares, Sachin was made captain. As a romantic falling in love with cricket every day, I knew we had a chance. I was wrong. We came back 0-3 with Agarkar’s five ducks and a scoreboard which read Sachin lbw McGrath to a ball which hit his shoulders. 

2003-2004 saw Dada at the helm. I had my class XII exams in a few months and studies gave me the perfect pretext to wake up early. There were talks of ‘chin music’, but Dada was not one to take a backward step. A century by him in the drawn test at the Gabba spurned India to go one-up in Adelaide - thanks to a Dravid masterclass. The imagery of Dravid kissing his India cap after hitting the winning runs off McGill is something which I uphold whenever I have doubts about the world, and all seems well again.  After being 278-1 for in Melbourne I was convinced that this would be the series. I was wrong. We had to come back content with 1-1.

2007-2008 saw Jumbo take the reins and me in the final year of college. With a good depth in bowling and batting, I thought this was going to be it. I was wrong. Steve Bucknor had other plans. Another Sachin century at Sydney, but another series defeat. The vengeance at Perth after all ugly talks did taste sweet though. 1-2 is how it ended.

2011-12 came. World Champions India were touring an Aussie side caught in transition.  Sachin’s 100^th ton was in sight. Surely a fairy tale ending to his career was being scripted. I was wrong. We came back 0-4.

2014-15 saw Dhoni retire mid-series to give the mantle to Virat who had already shown the world what he was capable of. The new India (who had refused to try and chase 87 runs in 15 overs in the West Indies a few months ago) were attempting to chase 360+ at about 4 an over in Adelaide. Virat had scored his second century of the test, and I was supposed to take my bestie and his charming new bride to Cherrapunjee. I ditched them, knowing that history beckoned. I was wrong. India lost the test, and the next, and we came back 0-2. 

2018-19 arrived. I knew we had a chance against a depleted Aussie side. The Indian team had been checking the correct boxes. It was all déjà vu, and maybe I had moved on from cricket - life had happened. What if Pakistan was to finally win in a World Cup match against India and the Mauka guy no longer wanted to burst the crackers as his priorities had changed! I thought I would remain somewhat indifferent to the result.

I was wrong. Again.

The morning alarms were out again. Opened Cricinfo app became a regular feature in my office desk. I never missed the highlights session in the evenings. The proverbial crackers were well and truly burst.

One infograhic that will stick is how the ‘Indian Pace Troika’ comprising of Bumrah, Ishant and Shami broke the record for highest number of wickets in a calendar year. It does not matter that they broke the record held by Holding, Marshal and Garner; what matters is the words ‘Indian Pace Troika’. Say the words slowly, and let them sink in – Indian... Pace... Troika... Having been a keen student of the game for the good part of the past two and a half decades, I’ve seen Indian batsmen dictate terms and intimidate bowlers; I’ve seen Indian spinners spin a web around the opposition; heck -  I’ve even seen Agarkar score a century in Lords. I’ve been witness to some great spells of fast bowling – Srinath at Nagpur, Pathan at Karachi, Sreesanth at Jo’burg, Ishant at Perth, but never did I think that I would live to see a day when the words ‘Indian Pace Troika’ would be said in unison, in one sentence, in one breath.

Shaw injured? No problem. Ashwin injured? We had Sir and Kuldeep. Openers in bad form? Dude, we still got Mayank. First choice keeper not fit? Let’s see if Pant gets time out from babysitting. Pujara and Kohli batted, like they had to - it was almost as it in their contracts. Catches stuck. All the pieces fell into place. India won the series. 2-1 – a scoreline the Aussies will probably confess themselves lucky to have come out of.

Virat confessed yesterday that the 2011 World Cup Victory had not meant as much to him at that time because he did not know what failure was like, and how two series defeats in Australia added more context to his current feelings. As a viewer too, the many defeats in the past and the coatings of anticipation sure make this special.

As we celebrate and cherish India’s upmanship Down Under, I’ll end with the magical and soothing words – Indian Pace Troika.

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