'The Human' of Cricket.

All I want to do today is sit back and savour the moment when Sachin scored the 100th run of his 100th ton, removed his helmet, looked to the skies, then pointed to the Indian flag on his helmet and kissed it!!! There can never be such a moment in Cricket ever again! That is precisely why I decided to post my tribute to another great player today, the day that is a golden day in the history of Cricket and will be remembered by every true lover of the game.

"My approach to cricket has been reasonably simple: it was about giving everything to the team, it was about playing with dignity and it was about upholding the spirit of the game. I hope I have done some of that. I have failed at times, but I have never stopped trying. It is why I leave with sadness but also with pride." These are the words chosen by Rahul Dravid to say his final farewell to international cricket and the world knows he is the only one in the current cricketing world who has lived his words. And to this great legend I dedicate my sincere and heartfelt lines.

Cricket, they say, is a gentleman's game and if ever there was a gentleman in modern day cricket, it was Rahul Dravid and with his retirement the curtains fall on an era of cricket where some respect for the gentleman's game still existed! He is one cricketer who personified the spirit of cricket - that it is a contest to be won by wielding the bat and handling the ball in the right way and that being aggressive does not mean sledging and cheap theatrics on field but it is a state of mind in which the focus is only on one's game and belief in oneself and ones skills is to such an extent as not to be cowed down by the opponents skills. His dedication is so complete that it looks almost as if he is in a meditative state when he walks in to the field. His determination and focus was so strong that you could actually see the verbal abuses hurled by the likes of greats such as Allan Donald bounce off of him! His actions are so deliberate that it is transparent that all that matters to him is the game and for him nothing and nobody is bigger than the game. Yes, he is the only one of his kind. A class of his own. Every new cricketer invariably gets compared to the likes of Sachin, Richards, Bradman, Ponting etc. But no one has yet come near to being compared to this legend. None so technically perfect, none with such attitude and respect for the game, none with his temperament, none with such conviction for handling immense pressure and yet be unmoved by any kind of adulation, speculation, publicity. Sorry! But that is the truth. In today's cricketing scene... and with the kind of fame, publicity, pressure and the money, it is next to impossible that you will find someone who can hold a candle to Rahul Dravid's caliber.

Yes, 'The Wall', the ever 'Mr.Dependable', the most composed and the least animated individual on the field of cricket has returned to the pavilion for the last time!!! The sad truth is, in a country so consumed with religion, and cricket being the religion of all, we placed 'The God' up on 'The Wall' and then forgot to notice that as the pedestal on which the God stood grew in stature, 'the God' started shining brighter! Dravid's grand innings has come to an end and the world has given him a standing ovation on his brave, conscious and conscientious contribution to the game.

The Great Wall of China may one day turn to dust but our wall will live on... a legend... a folklore, an enigmatic soul

to future generations who will hear his story.

This may yet be my most sincere and most emotional writing but the subject of this piece deserves no less from an ardent admirer. Live on Jammy!!!.

Grumblings of a proud new mother...

Hello World!!! Now, there is a statement every computer programmer knows ;-) and yes, that is exactly what I feel need to be my first words in this new piece(I am learning a new language)... It feels like I have been out of touch with everyone and everything for so long, what with the pregnancy and the baby...

Yes... The baby... Arjun!

Now, what do I write about this little bundle of joy? It has been total bedlam from the second he was born. Here he was, a tiny little being, just opening his eyes to the world and he was already making those around him laugh, cry, dance, talk, awe struck and dumb struck and all at the same time. I had a vague recollection of a Hindi movie song 'choti ungli pe nachayegi tumhe...' only with 'nachayega' in that line. It's been 10 months now from that 'second' and yes, we are all still dancing to his tunes, and he seems to have made a special target of me.

The sun, moon and earth's rotation do not define my days and nights any more... He does! My daily routine, learnt and perfected over a period of 30 years has been declared useless by His Majesty, the little Arjun, and now I have been forced to follow a totally different one approved by him. I was proud of the fact that I could speak 4 different languages fluently and understand and speak a little of two others... but now I am at a loss. He has his own language and looks like he is the only teacher and I have no choice but to learn this new language consisting of gurgles, cooing, shrieking etc from him and boy! is he a hard task master! Some people in Chennai who failed to persuade me to learn 'Tamil' must be having a good laugh now.

As if this was not enough, Arjun seems to think he is some kind of a human volcano... Always ready to spew lava... and from both ends too! Never thought I would be thanking diapers! Also, all my relations have been redefined now. My parents and my darling sister prefer to be related to me as Arjun's grand parents and aunt. Now, I have to deduce what my relatives are to Arjun before addressing them. They seem to want to be related only to him... Might be a blessing in disguise in some cases... Let me wait and watch...

I pity the great leaders of this world. They seem to worry about trivial matters such as world peace, internal security, Bin-Laden, Gadaffi etc. etc. I am sure they would envy my leadership in dealing with more urgent and pressing issues - 'Oh why hasn't Arjun had a bowel movement two days in a row?' , 'Oh God! Stop Arjun. He's trying to eat an ant again!', 'Stop tripping the broadband, Arjun!', 'Right, he has painted the walls , the furniture, the duvets and the floor with with mashed bananas...', 'The refrigerator is open, the wardrobes look like they were in the path of a tornado, the bed sheet is on the floor, the toys are in the kitchen and he is playing with pots and pans...'. They say, the hand that rocks the cradle is the one that rules the world...

I would have tried to rule the world if it was not for the fact that the one in the cradle has rocked my world so completely that I cannot recognize it!

All said and done... he is still the 'Apple of my eye', my 'chaand ka tukda', nanna 'baalina belaku', yenna 'bolli bangara' and any other such cliched idioms and phrases that get quoted once too often by proud mothers of the world. Today, I am richer than I have ever been, emotionally, mentally and with my swear words vocabulary.

P.S: Written in a haste. My new manager makes absolutely sure that I adhere to deadlines by bawling his eyes out and I assure you, you cannot imagine the decibel level of that episode.

Culinary Fiasco

If there is one thing I am proud of, it is my skills in the kitchen. It is amazing how I use the freshest of perishables and the most aromatic of spices and condiments and still manage to whip up something so extraordinary that neither my husband nor the neighbour's cat seem to appreciate! I would like to label them ungrateful but on second thought, I think it may have something to do with the frequent visits to the 'rest'room and the garden by the husband and the cat respectively. I could simply ask my husband the reason for lack of appreciation for my efforts but I do not want to lose my guinea pigs. You see, I am at an experimental phase and I aim to strive on until one of the two openly revolts. Not that I see it happening as my husband is tongue-tied in my presence, not because of my heavenly beauty (ahem!!) but because of my pleasant sumo wrestler kind of personality, and the cat keeps coming back for more and it helps that she cannot talk and so I assume my cooking skills are not a cause for concern. Yet.

It all started this Holi, with a statement of my dear father-in-law. Now, I have to drive home a point here. The daughter-in-law's worth/competence is decided by the range of dishes she can cook (or claims to cook) in most houses. Holi is a festival for which my mother-in-law prepares around 573 sweets and savories. I might be a bit off on the ballpark number there but I guess that is what prompted my father-in-law to ask me, sweetly, if I knew how to prepare certain dishes that are a must on Holi. That should have been my cue to change the subject and talk about 'Pandits' and 'Prayers' but I guess the cat caught my tongue! Or maybe it was my ego bursting with a loud bang that startled me! But I recollected my composure and like a dutiful daughter-in-law I did the only thing I could do then. Lie! By the end of our conversation he must have believed that I cook Indian food for the Queen of England and he must have put me right at the top of his list of best cooks, just below his wife.

The great lie has spurred me to action and I am now trying out different recipes (courtesy YouTube) and feeding them to my very own, albeit reluctant, guinea pigs (;-)). I agree my rasagulla's could be used as professional golf balls, my jalebis could be passed of as tapeworm, my baturas could be used as frisbee... (Oh! Flash! Boing! Flash! that's why the playful cat keeps coming back!) but I think I am getting the hang of cooking. Maybe, no, definitely, I'll surprise (may not be pleasantly) my father-in-law with my brand of cooking next Holi.

I must say, my poor ego, that went 'pop' is repaired and filling up on hot air. Before the next visit to in-laws place it plans on having enough reserve and not be caught unawares again!

So, wish me luck that I may conquer the world of cooking and make my father-in-law proud or maybe I should just try and stay in my mother-in-law's good books. She holds the title of the best cook in the family and she may not take kindly to me if I grab it. On second thought, maybe I should just concentrate on keeping my guinea pigs alive.

Weighty thoughts!

Feels like I am sitting on a thousand pounds... Money? I wish! but no, it is my ever expanding rear. It seems it was just yesterday that I was this pretty (ahem!!!, almost true), petite (definitely true) lass and today I am a big lump of shapeless dough. Well, not really

shapeless but I do look a little like the miniature, darker version of the pigs in UK walking on their hind legs! You may think I am exaggerating but there are some people urging me to belive that a hippo would be a closer, much better example for comparison. I like to think it is because of my colour...

Given my situation it is natural that I should get showered by advice by people who are experts in this matter. My husband for one. He has been trying very diligently to help me. Apart from pointing out to me that all furniture in the house is still standing, he makes sure that I am on a balanced diet of well-meaning fat people jokes, hope of joyful separation on the grounds of obesity and reminders of how glad his mother was to see me with a few extra pounds during the last visit! God bless him for motivating me but what bothers me more than my extra pounds is this - He seems to be losing weight just by trying to get me to lose some (and then some more). But I have asked people around and they seem to think that he is as "healthy" as ever and I am satisfied, for the moment.

My kid sister is a volcano of advices. She spews out ideas like hot lava. What you have to know here is that she thinks like the chihuahua carried around by Paris Hilton, or was it some other hot socialite? Who cares? Anyway the point is, her ideas are fashion oriented, high society, celebrity kind of routines where you eat two almonds for breakfast, two lettuce leaves for lunch and one raisin for dinner and drive 70 miles in an AC car for a jog down the mountain trail complete with shades and IPod. As mouth-watering as this idea is, I chose to ignore it because one raisin is too heavy a dinner for me!

Another source is my Mother-in-law. Hers is a package deal that includes tested and tried methods of lightening skin colour, improving body posture and weight loss programs complete with success stories (of her). Also, friends and well-wishers pitch in with their two bits every now and then. You may think with so many people on my case, my problems are as good as solved.

Yes, that is what I would like to believe too. I am keeping my fingers crossed and my brains untangled to receive more weighty inputs. Phew!!! I have been meaning to write this for so long, now with this off my mind, I already feel like I have lost some weight! Should think of writing more...

Prisoner of thought

He lay there in the cocoon
Watching shapes shift by
He knew not where he was
Nor could he fathom why
Was he there for a reason
Or was it just a ruse
That made him a prisoner
of something almost like a muse

Silvery cover seemed so real
Yet felt unreal, even ethereal
Will bent like rubber in the mist
Twisted, controlled like never before
Can this be true? This strength
Of a seemingly fragile shell
Scared and enthused like a new explorer
He pondered possibilities, a conqueror

Could this be the end of him
Chains of bondage crushing him
Or liberation awaiting beyond
Bidding him, break free, look beyond
The moment of truth, so simple
Choice, the line between life and death
Choose to live, was his interpretation
Cocoon melted to his disbelieving elation

He was free again, he knew
To embrace this life anew
Every thought a prison, a system
Destiny beckons beyond it's reason
Walk out free, head held high
Breathe in the air, Let out a sigh
Life... a journey of many thoughts
Live each one and then let go...

Race... towards new light

Reaching for the stars

Hands ache, toes sore

Eyes burn with unshed tears

of disappointments galore

Consequences of decisions

made in imprudent haste

Tormenting the helpless mind

Reflecting years led in waste

All this reckless race

Seemingly towards prosperity

To satisfy needs or is it wants?

Who stopped to think of the disparity?

Cannot remember the roads tread

Wonder what mysteries detours held

What was left behind? What lies ahead?

At this crossroad, the whole being tired

Somewhere in between lies forgotten

The worth of self, teachings of life

wealth of experiences, of strife

The race goes on, it has to be run

With a perspective to reach the sun

Precious Nothings!

Morning dew on the lush green grass

Sight of seagulls as they fly across

First rays of light on the horizon

Scent of earth during the first rain

New borns of nature in early spring

Sound of cuckoos when they sing

Enchanting colours of the late fall

Magical sight of a dense snowfall

Silvery sky on a full moon night

Sparkling stars of new moon night

Lightning etched against starless sky

Clouds shifting on a dark stormy night

Cool salty breeze at the sea shore

Waves hitting rocks and the encore

Snowcapped mountains reflected on lakes

Wild flowers peeping out of large meadows

Wind in the hair when parasailing

Smell of an incense when burning

Silence reigning in the deep valleys

Aroma of coffee when it brews

They are imprinted on my mind

Making an impact so profound

Nature and senses joining hands

To build a treasury of precious nothings