Australian cricket fan

I have been an Australian Cricket fan ever since I started watching cricket. Their ruthlessness and ability to win from almost any scenario captivated me to no end. Despite their outrageous displays of masochism and arrogance on field, I was a fan of their never say die attitude on the field. The Australian teams under Steve Waugh and Ricky Ponting usually bossed their ways to victory. Their consecutive triumphs in 17 test matches twice stands testament to their numero uno status during their eras. I haven't seen the great West Indian side under Clive Lloyd. But if they were any close to the teams under Ricky Ponting, then I can only feel sorry for their opponents of the time. Against that Australian team, the margin of victory was the only question and it was always a surprise to see them lose. Ricky Ponting, my favorite cricketer has in my opinion the best record one can own - more than a 100 test wins. 108 to be precise. And the second best is Sachin who won 71 of his matches despite having played 36 more than Ricky. Such was the Australian dominance. One can always argue that in their quest for dominance, the Australian side under Ponting was not always the most likeable on field. In fact they did act in ways which were downright ugly. Sledging an opponent was par for course. And some sledges from greats like Glenn Mcgrath were despicable. 

The current Australian team is hence a refreshing change to this one. Their captain Pat Cummins is immensely likeable, not least because I share one of his hobbies - crossword solving. A gentleman through and through, Pat carries himself with the utmost grace and elegance both on and off the field. Press conferences from the Australian squad indicate how Pat commands the unwavering loyalty and friendship of his team. 

The team for its part now is building in his image - fiercely competitive on the field with limited to no skirmishes with their opponents. There are more cricket nerds than ever - Labuschagne, Steven Smith, Cameron Green to count a few. Calmness is almost like the common thread that connects most of them. Lyon, Khawaja, Hazelwood, Carey and Boland - are like the quintessential good kids you want to introduce as friends to your parents. Even the rough edges seem to have been blunted with David Warner exuding a previously unknown calmness and a single minded focus to become the best 3 form batter for Australia. Tim Paine and Justin Langer who continued to connect Australia's past and present are no longer at the helm for various reasons. The results have been reasonably positive over the last year for optimism and interest to rise. 

There is however a big 2023 to follow - a year filled with tough assignments. The year which will determine Cummins' continued presence in the captaincy seat and will test the skills of the selectors and the coach to the hilt. A test series in India will be followed by a potential world test championship final at the Oval against India, a 5 test Ashes series against a resurgent England under the inspirational leadership of Ben Stokes and Baz Mccullum and an ODI world up in India - a format where Australia have not been title contenders since 2015. 

Australia's performance in the test series in India is predicated on solving several questions. Their ability to play spin - the suspect list include Warner, Head and Carey at least. The absence of a legitimate second spinner - Why is Agar moving up the ladder as against a Kuhnemann is anyone's guess? Extent of injuries picked up by Starc, Green and Lyon in the series against South Africa.

Richard Osman, the joy of writing and reading

I'm now writing on a fancy, on a whim. Enamoured by the book I'm currently reading - The Bullet that missed by Richard Osman. Osman has a kind, playful way with words. He might be discussing a serious topic but still his tone is polite and the voice is methodical and even. It draws you in. Keeps you waiting with bated breath. Looking forward to the next instalment, the next chapter of a whodunnit. Like poetry in the form of prose. If I ask myself, why I feel so? The answer is so simple. His sentences are brief and his chapters short. The story is moving forward despite the lack of very many novel information chapter after chapter. His book is definitely not written with a film adaptation in mind. His writing seems to just focus on that - the joy of stringing together words which have a certain ring to it. Wodehouse and Christie in equal parts. 

I'm more than half way through this 3rd book of his - in the Thursday Murder Club series. A delightful series in essence with its heroes being septuagenarian detectives led by an ex-spy and ably assisted by an ex-nurse, ex-psychiatrist (or do psychiatrists even retire?). There is also an ex-famous who? - a boxer or a football player maybe. Whoever he may be, he surely does raise a few knowing eyebrows wherever he goes and can get more than a few doors open. And get witnesses talking by tapping into the right contacts. Maybe Osman will tell us who Ron Ritchie really was before he decided to hang up his boots and settle down in Cooper's Chase, the elderly home playing host to our Thursday Murder Club heroes.

It feels I'm writing in the author's style. Meandering around and letting my thoughts take control of my typing. Which seems perfectly the right way to write. The Thursday Murder Club series, as the name suggests, is indeed solving a murder mystery. But like I mentioned before the tone and style are far from it. There is certainly a bit of mystery surrounding every new character introduced. Hidden thoughts and undisclosed motivations surround these characters. Osman's habit of letting thoughts go unfinished in every chapter creates doubts in the reader's minds. You are inevitably drawn to thinking "Is it him?" or "Is it her - the murderer?" or "Was it that he was working in tandem with her?". There are also the "Surely it cannot be him? He looks naïve and more importantly what was his motive to commit the crime?". Some thoughts are more complex like the ones rising from second mystery running parallel to the cold case that is being solved. If you are reading the book like I do and if you are an avid whodunnit enthusiast, you might be forgiven for thinking "Is this second track a red herring? Or does it have some mystical connection, only to be revealed in the last scenes?". 

No matter what my thoughts maybe the onion peel like uncovering of the facts is engrossing. Makes the book unputdownable - an enjoyable and rewarding experience. Like a weekend well spent. Like a weekend post which you wake up energised for work, no matter how laborious work may be. I have nothing to blame my current job - It seems anything but laborious as of now. Overwhelmed, confused and excited are more the adjectives I'm looking for at the moment. Be that as it may, I will return to Richard Osman for now. To an evening of solving crime together with the most adventurous septuagenarians I have known. To inspiring myself to live an exciting and interesting like till the end. Collecting memories, stories and joyous moments through experiences that I'm hoping to be blessed with for the rest of my life. 

PK

This morning was in a sense an adventure. Something unique. Something never felt before. But one which was comforting while a numbness pervaded my thoughts and senses. It is impossible to explain how this numbness was taking over so very easily, it is easy to explain why. I chose to let it take charge and let my mind swim in that heady feeling. The conductor was ready.


Unkempt hair (have I ever done that?) and wearing a slight smile at the edge as I entered office. A conversation that needed complete attention got a vacant stare and an occupied mind focused on a singular face. A face which refused to disappear from every object that the eye fell on. I could hear the chords.


A sudden heaviness in breath was partially abated by a glass of water but wasn't to be easily shaken off. An half an hour period when even the simplest of words refused to arrive, expect one name. The humming had started.


Could I hear your voice or was I hallucinating? It didn't matter one way or the other. Maybe I should have just called you. Just to hear you say Jerry. You did call, not a short while after. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe this was telepathy. No, this was one unforgettable song. Or was it just the beginning of an unending performance.


On infinite loop. À jamais.

4 Nov 2016

#18 - Etched in memory forever

No wonder sport inspires people so much

It shows us how records can be and are broken at tremendous regularity

It celebrates dreams and passions

It brings joy not just to those who play

but also to those who watch and follow it

It is a mini caricature of life itself with its umpteen crests and troughs

It explains why barriers are almost always mental

And why the path can be as beautiful as the prize at the end of it

And why those who succeed are truly champions

No wonder sports inspires one and all

And no one more than Roger

At 35, after 5 years, winning another grand slam

Overcoming his greatest nemesis, battling a visible self-doubt throughout

Proving a point to several naysayers and more so to himself

No wonder Roger is a champion

Arguably the best of them all in the tennis world

Moving ever so gently to be the greatest, sport has seen

Thank you Roger for all the memories and feeling

Thank you Roger for staying on for all these years and believing

Thank you Roger for continuing still and keeping that fire burning

#Bel18ve

The trip that easily could have not been - Part 4 of many

An explosion of historical delights

The next day started off in a curious fashion. An uncle who had almost severed contacts and had stopped talking with us called me in the morning. Or rather woke me up and the entire zostel dorm I was staying in. He asked for my mom’s number. After reluctantly sharing the number I was thinking if this is the start of some other misunderstanding (to put things mildly). The reason for us not staying in touch for the last three years is a story in itself. Without me getting into those details let me recount how I spent the rest of my day in Jaipur.

I had booked a cab with just one thought in mind – to visit the majestic Amer Fort. Gopi had suggested that irrespective of what I see in Jaipur I must not miss visiting this place. And I was extremely happy I took his word for it. The entire fort was built on a hillock and spread wider than my cone of vision even when I was a couple of Kms away. Needless to say that there was a short climb involved to get to the actual fort. The heat was the only turn-off in the whole exercise. I’ve always had this thought in mind when I think of forts and especially in places like Rajasthan where the mercury reaches unbearable levels during the summers. I’ve even thought maybe global warming was responsible for the temperatures recorded nowadays and maybe the olden days weren’t hot enough. Then I came across a study which said the earth’s average temperature has increased some 0.3⁰C over the last century and this was considered an alarming rate of increase. That is when I decided that the olden days must have far worse for people, what with no electricity and therefore no fans or air conditioners. But in Amer fort I came across several spots, several closed passageways, hallways and aisle and even rooms which were well ventilated. A pleasant breeze used to pass through making it significantly colder. There was a massive courtyard with a pedestal at the centre (where I presume the maharaja would have conducted his daily court). The pedestal was now converted into a rest area for tourists with multiple chairs and rope beds. Inspite of the structure being in the open, the temperature of this area was a definite 5 – 10 degrees lesser than the actual temperature of the day. I was fascinated. The architects of the old were artists indeed. They have engineered nature in a simple and effective fashion. This reminds me of a story which my friend who has roots in Rajasthan told me.

Rajasthan being one the hottest places on earth and has vast desert lands is extremely hot during summers. And Mango, the queen of fruits is sweetest and best in summers. But it generates a lot of heat. Now the people of Rajasthan have come up with an ingenious way to reduce the amount of bodily heat generated while still savoring the delicious fruit. Before consumption, the mangoes are soaked in water for a good 4 hours. The water acts as a coolant (when it can cool nuclear reactors down, can it not cool a mango?), removing its heat. Simple and effective. Now mind you, this water is also precious in a place as parched as Rajasthan is. And hence this water is not thrown away but rather reused in some form or the other. Fascinating it was to hear this!

As I moved away from Amer fort, the cabbie who I had taken for the day suggested I visit the Jaipur Palace and Jantar Mantar, which were adjacent to each other. My second stop was the City Palace. Here I need to recount one interesting story I read only about the ruling family in Jaipur. The Maharaja Jai Singh, who was invited to court by the Mughal emperor Aurangazeb was surprised and flabbergasted by his knowledge and wit and praised him saying he was worth more than a man and infact he was equal to 1 ¼ of any other man. He used the Persian word “Sawai” which literally means 1 ¼. History also inform us of the Maharaja (who has lent his name to the city of Jaipur) was a “Sawai” in “Astra” as well as “Shastra”. While the title of Sawai was bestowed upon the Maharaja Sawai Jai Singhji, his successors decided to add it to their names as well. And we also have a city which is 1 ¼ of any other city – Sawai Madhopur, named after the Maharaja Sawai Madho Singh.

The Jantar Mantar which was very close to the Palace was my next stop. For all its historical value, it is actually a set of instruments used in astronomy to observe celestial bodies with the naked eye. These were constructed over a period of a decade or longer under the instructions of Maharaja Sawai Jai Singh. According to Wikipedia, this historical monument houses astronomical instruments operating in the three main celestial coordinates (the horizon-zenith, the equatorial and the ecliptical). These were built using the principles of astronomy borrowed from Hindu Sanskrit and Islamic texts.

Two instruments fascinated me the most. The Vrihat Samrat Yantra (the world’s largest gnomon* sundials) which is actually a gigantic clock that could predict the time at any given point in the day with an accuracy of 2 seconds. It consisted of a large dial which was first split into 24 parts each denoting 1 hour. Each hour was in turn divided into 4 parts and further into 15 sub parts and then into 10 fractions and finally into 3 sub fractions. Moreover this instrument was angled at 27⁰ to the ground level. Was that because of the angular tilt of the earth on its axis? I don’t know, but still it was interesting. The second instrument called the Rashi Valaya Yantra which caught my attention was actually a set of 12 sundials, each at a different angle and orientation and facing the sky. As I went about these sundials and read the plaques I understood that each one was to determine the coordinates of stars and planets the solar system. My jaw almost dropped at this. I had just one question in mind. Why are we reading about the Copernicuses and Galileos of the world and not about the Sawai Jai Singhs of India who were equally important pioneers in astronomy? What about Stonehenge? Was it a medieval Sundial? Where has this knowledge been lost? I’m well aware of the fact that today we have powerful telescopes which can do these measurements at spectacular accuracy. The inventor of telescopes is indeed among the greatest of scientists the world has seen. But why are we not taking these successes of Jantar Mantar and Stonehenge in the same breath? History has been a must in every school for a long time. But its utility is not properly understood by the teachers. What is the reason for studying it, some might ask? In my opinion, history is to be used as an inspirational tool. To tell today’s kids that our ancestors of the past have achieved so much with the limitations on available resources and knowledge gathered. And to open their minds to dream bigger and better.

With these thoughts running through my mind, I reached the end of my time at Jaipur. Au Revoir, Pink City. I will definitely be back.

*Gnomon – the triangular blade on the sundial which casts a shadow to measure the time of the day

The trip that easily could have not been - Part 3 of many

An eventful lodging experience

I have never been in a backpacking hotel. Let alone a shared accommodation of more than 3 residents in a room. And never spent a night with 5 strangers and never believed I ever would and come out enjoying the experience.

I met a couple of interesting people – a guy from Spain and a girl from Australia. Both have come with the objective of visiting India but have made no concrete plans and are traveling basis suggestions of friends made on the way. What was even more interesting was how the girl had described her being in India. “I do not know what I’m doing here. I have been here for the past two weeks. One fine morning I just picked up my bags and booked my ticket to Delhi. With only one thing in my mind – I want to spend the next six months in this exotic land.” Enquiries about my travel plans started by then and I could notice myself brimming with enthusiasm as I described my plans for the next few days. She was excited as well to know that Ranthambhore was so close and it was perhaps the best time to spot tigers in the wild.

She had gone pub hopping the previous night, had come back dead drunk and was still recovering from a bad hangover and headache. After deciding to watch a movie with her friend she said “Excuse me while I get dressed”. I got the shock of my life when she brought her hands near her hips. “Shall I wait outside, while you get dressed?” I enquired. She nonchalantly brushed me off remarking “I’ve lived most of my life since 2010 in backpacking hotels. This isn’t new to me” and casually slips her pants off only to change into another one. To hell with modesty. I quickly averted my eyes to look at my laptop and tried to look intelligent and busy. And indeed there was some work to complete that day. There was even a call at 10PM. I must have been a major disturbance that night as I had to keep the light on till 1 in the night. It took a request to turn the light off from the Australian girl for me to realize my mindlessness. The politeness of her enquiry only embarrassed me further. This was followed by repeated calls from my uncle and client folks the next morning. Everyone was asleep and I’m certain that these calls would have woken them up. I had no place to hide my face.

More importantly what interested me was the economics of my stay there. Both from the end of a backpacker and from the end of the hotelier. I was charged a modest 400/ night and the amenities included a single bunk bed in an A/C room, free wifi at more than decent speed and the invaluable experience of meeting interesting people from across the globe. I was comparing this stay with the PG I used to stay in in Delhi. I was charged 10,000 per month. The room was ventilated with a fan and an air cooler during summers. There was no way to regulate the cold during winters. The biggest positive was food all 3 times in the day (Breakfast, lunch and dinner). If I were in Zostel at that point in time I would have shelled out 12,000 per month while I would have needed to manage food on my own. I would probably have spent 5,000 every month on food but it would still have been worth it. Also, I got to understand there were steep discounts for repeat lodgers upto 30% (Bringing the rental expenditure down to 8,400 per month). Of course there would have been days when I would have abhorred the company I was expected to adjust to but overall I believe the experience would have been worth it.

Consider the economics of the hotelier. It was a 3 bhk apartment with a total capacity of 24 beds. Each bed would give them a maximum revenue of Rs.12,000 (400 x 30) every month. Assuming a 50% room occupancy they would be earning Rs. 1,44,000 every month from the apartment. Assuming a rent of Rs. 30,000, an electricity bill of Rs. 5,000 and cleaning services costing Rs. 5000 for the apartment. The minimum that the hotelier stands to gain is Rs. 1,04,000 every month. If there are 2 managers working 12 hour shifts at a salary of Rs. 30,000 per month, they stand to finally make Rs. 44,000 per apartment. All this at 50% occupancy. And every 1% increase in occupancy rate earns then ~Rs. 3,000 more. The venture was on the whole sounded very alluring and intelligent!

The trip that easily could have not been - Part 2 of many

 An amusing first leg of the journey

I wanted to pen down my thoughts and emotions as soon as I stepped out of the flight. My moods swung from being irritated, annoyed to disbelieving and finally amused. In short an incredible flight journey. I took the AirAsia from Bangalore to Jaipur and from the time I went to the boarding gate found the atmosphere too funny. The scene at the boarding gate resembled one from a local bus stand with people carrying bags of all sizes and shapes, shouting at the tops of their voices on the phone and feeding hungry and angry children. Usually at such places I have to put up with an overabundance of quiet solitude where all you see are faces immersed in expensive electronic equipment with not idea of whether the neighbor was a human or a goat. I wouldn’t call the scene a welcome change but a diametrically opposite one.

As expected, all seats in the aircraft were taken. Thankfully I did not see anyone holding onto a seat using a handkerchief. But I did have to suffer in silence an impatient gentleman who kept poking and prodding me at the back with his sharp pointy fingers. My mistake was to keep a respectable distance of 1 foot from my predecessor in the queue. At one moment I turned back to give him an earful but restrained myself and successfully prevented him (through a calm word) from drilling a hole in my back. I reach my seat to find someone sitting in the window seat I had checked into. It was an old lady and her daughter was sitting in the middle seat and the aisle seat was empty. To ascertain whether they actually hold the tickets for the aisle seat I politely mentioned that they were occupying my seat. The daughter quickly offered me the vacant one saying “It’s okay. You can sit here”. I felt irritated just a bit before realizing that probably this was the first flight the old lady was taking in her life. And naturally she wanted to make the experience extra special. Sleep was my agenda for the entire duration of the flight and the seats looked comfortable enough, so I calmed down almost immediately.

The time for the flight attendants to show us the safety measures had arrived. It was one of most lackadaisical displays I have seen. The act of pulling the thread tied to the oxygen mask to release oxygen was completed at least 5 secs before the lady could announce its usage. And again while denoting the passage to exit doors in case of an emergency evacuation. The attendants were all quite young. They must have just graduated from college. And clearly not cut out for the job. Their movements were too quick and lacking the easiness of professionals. Their attitude a little too carefree and their chins were facing upwards just a tad too much. This inference of mine was further reinforced when I saw one flight attendant pushing a man into his seat. Although I would probably say the action was called for. This was just after touchdown and what a smooth landing it was. At almost the exact moment of the wheels touching down, an idiot gets up, opens the overhead locker and removes his bag. Naturally, the attendant was pissed at this behavior. He rushed straight at the idiot, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into his seat and swiftly locked the overhead locker. The passenger deserved a slap at the least for this atrocious behavior. All this was happening while the announcement asking passengers to stay rooted to their seats until the flight stopped was going on. I get annoyed when I see people who can’t understand and act as per simple instructions. Like for example, when I see someone jumping a queue. I feel an urge to slap the idiot, give them a dressing down and make them start at the end of the queue.

But this was not an isolated incident. There were more of similar stupidity. Like almost everyone wanted to talk to people three rows before them and simultaneously at that. It was an absolute ruckus and more than one fish would have been sold, I’m sure. I woke up a million times because of the noise. Hollering infants were also aplenty. It is ofcourse not out of character for infants to holler. But I did find it intrusive and incredible for mothers to decide to walk them down the aisle instead of trying to calm them sitting in. I wouldn’t have minded it if they did not knock my hand off the side rest thereby waking me up. The scene at the time of deplaning was no different. Even when everyone in the queue knew there was no way to exit as the plane doors were still closed people tried to steal ahead of their neighbors. I firmly resisted one chaps advance and a sharp glance sideways at him made him stop his advance immediately. Of course there is no doubt that these chaps must have gone to some school or the other. But education could not teach them common courtesy. If this is how our country is in the 21^st century after almost 70 years of independence I cannot begin to imagine how the Englishmen arriving on our shores in the 17^th century would have experienced. I now probably understand what made Churchill call us uncivilized savages.

While, I say all this, I must also mention my experience with quite a few of such men and women. They have a lot of positive virtues. Enough to overlook these blemishes, appreciate them and even take them up as role models for better living. And that is where I do not appreciate Churchill for his comment. It is this realization that amused me and by the time I reached Zostel I was thinking back on the events of the day with a slight smile.