Vazhve Tavam...Anbe Sivam

GOD IS A SHE

2010-03-10T11:22:00.003+05:30

The first Monday of the Month of March dedicates itself to women. Women achievers (who are mostly from the entertainment industry) give long interviews, pose for glamorous pictures while the retail and service sectors offer free movies, free lunch, and incredible sale on fashion accessories exclusively for women.

The cell phone network companies make their share of profit – The men send out inspiring text messages mostly to women whom they hope to impress someday which indeed is quite an exhaustive list.

So the world thinks it is doing a favour on women by dedicating one day in a year for them, when the rich and the famous women, who anyways occupy considerable media space occupy a bit more and consumerism decides to capitalize by enticing women for free stuff and taking full advantage of them to ensure they visit the store/restaurant/cinema again even without the free offer.

But who are the real women? And why do we need one day to honour them? Since we trample upon them, abuse them and take them for granted the rest of the year, someone decided to humour women, and the world agreed unanimously.

I’ve always believed that if there is a god, it is a she. A man can never be so compassionate, understanding, tender and selfless to the point of compromising the most cherished desires/ambitions. The male ego dominates the world to such an extent that the underlying female energy that powers the world is suppressed. This again is possible because of the unconditional, forgiving nature of the female.

The other day, like millions of Indians, I too basked in the glory of my cricketing idol Sachin Tendulkar scoring a double hundred in one-day internationals. While adulations kept pouring for him across the world, with petitions to give him the Bharat Ratna, I stopped celebrating.

There has been a double hundred scored in ODI before. 29 runs more than the master and in just 8 more deliveries. This was in a world cup match in 1997. Belinda Clark, achieved this 13 years ago in Mumbai, in a world cup match against Denmark. This has appeared in the mainstream media only during the Women’s day after Sachin Tendulkar achieved this feat. Had the master not reached his double ton, perhaps I would never have known she existed!

When the world media splashed across with headlines calling Sachin Tendulkar as “the first in the planet to score a double hundred in ODI” did we hear Belinda protesting? Did she call a press conference? When Sachin drove away in a Volvo S80 and was richer by Crores after his feat, did Belinda throw any tantrums?

This is the real woman. There is a Belinda in every woman, which is invisible to the male ego, which is why men seek god elsewhere. God is indeed a SHE.

And men? Well, Men crib about not getting due credit for a film inspired by a story written by them.

Bon Voyage

2010-01-05T11:08:00.007+05:30

So it's a brand new year. Yet another successful completion of orbiting the sun. Within this monotonous journey of going round and round, several journeys take dramatic turns. Some of them abruptly end (C. Ashwath, Dr. Vishnuvardhan, MJ and millions of less popular "travellers"), some of them get magical "upgradations"(Several recent cricket heroes and stars from filmdom), many passengers had to get off their plane and wait for a bus (Reccesion Repercussions)...

Amidst these radical changes, embarking on a brand new journey is inevitable. While heading to the unknown destination and (nonsensically) revolving around the huge mass of energy with nothing but hope (and gravity)as a means of support, each passenger soul pursues several journeys. Life is not a journey, but several journeys that enigmatically reach the same destination. It better be the same destination. I presume atleast there is no chaos in death.

The last year for me has been more than an interesting journey. It has brought out all the facets of my personality. It has been the most fruitful year so far in terms of discovering "who the hell am I?".

I surprised myself in bringing out several facets which I never knew existed within me. In some cases, I never wanted such facets to exist within me. The atheist I was attempts to converse with the supreme (of course, he says,"if it exists"), the family hater I was yearns for a family, the unromantic, snobbish "I-do-what-I-want" guy is crazily in love. To the point of compromising. Oh yes, the smoker in me has died and the lover of the evening drink in me prefers fruit juice.

Have you ever heard of some one altering the course of their journey just to spend more time with a co-passenger? I hadn't. Till I heard about myself. One co-passenger accompanies me on a journey and since that moment, I decide "screw my ticket, I go where she goes". Of course, it is a she. Only a woman can make a man feel so.

This year, two new journeys have begun - the journey within, and the journey with my beautiful co-passenger. They might lead to several journeys. Hopefully, together.

I wish and pray that she remains my co-passenger during all my journeys henceforth. Even after the destined destination if possible. Like may be we decide to have coffee after the last stop. And then board another bus together. For yet another journey. A journey that is encompassed within a predetermined round and round over some other star. I do not know whether I will have gravity for support then. But I will surely carry hope. Lots of it.

A day without earphones

2009-07-13T10:00:00.002+05:30

Ever since I have been using the Samsung SGH F270, (to be precise, 8 months) I do not remember a single day without the earphones. (I do not enjoy music on the phone's loudspeaker, as I cannot feel the finer nuances of the compositions, unless I have my ear phones on, or I listen in a 5.1 sound system.)

Except during working hours, the rest of my day seemed like a motion picture, with the perfect re-recording. Be it FM radio or the numerous playlists - thanks to the 2GB memory card, I had background music during my commuting, solitary walks, my evening drink and even during late night sms sessions with certain cronies.

Yesterday, I left behind my earphones at my good friend Bharath's residence. It was on my way back that I realised I had almost forgotten the ambient music of Bengaluru city. The honking of vehicles, the yells and frustrations of the traffic stuck behind L-Boards, hawkers shouting at the top of their voices, shrill whistles of the traffic cops, the synchronised starting of the engines a few seconds before the traffic lights turned green, the mobile phone conversation of co-passengers which are loud enough for the conversation to have happened without a phone...I heard all these with the amazement of a 13th century citizen who had had a time-slip.

This morning I went for my usual jog, but not the usual way. I jogged sans any recorded music. It had been ages (8 months, to be precise) since I had heard the chirping of birds, the laughter of the child I have been seeing since you know when, as it plays by, while her grandfather does his exercises, the conversations of women waiting to fill their buckets with water, the sounds of running - well-regulated and protected by running shoes, the chattering of over-weight housewives who talk more than they walk...and yes, for the first time since, you know when, I heard my own heart beat after 8 rounds of jogging and 2 rounds of sprinting. After ages, I heard my breath which was in sync with me wiping the sweat off my brow. I found back ground music again.

Much as I love music, it is this love which has made me decide to do away with earphones for a while. Let me add some ambient audio in the re-recording of my life. I at least feel natural, not like an actor waiting for someone to say cut.

Life is but a dream....

2009-07-09T09:36:00.005+05:30

"What makes you think I'll give up?" he asked in a slightly louder tone than he intended, which led to several heads turning towards them in the upmarket bistro. This sudden attention did not seem to distract her as she retorted in an equally loud tone, "But Sid, you are aware that the odds are completely against you. There is tension brewing in the family, there is nothing but empty promises which people have made, and most importantly, there is no money coming in."

"Mithu, in this field, when it rains, it pours. My intuition tells me that it's going to pour soon, very soon. This project which is scheduled to begin next week is sure to be my breakthrough."

"I am amazed Sid. You've become just like a million dreamers in this country, who think they are the next Shah Rukh Khan...."

"So you mean to say, I have no talent, no potential, and I am just-another-struggler?, then all those words of praise which you showered after my plays, were a hoax...? Mithu, there is no need to be hypocritical with me. And what do you know about cinema, about theatre and acting? Though by qualification, I am a Software Engineer, and a better programmer than you, do I comment on your programming....?"

"Excuse me sir?....Can you please lower your tone? thank you sir.." The stern interruption brought Siddharth and Mithila back to the bistro, and they finished their coffee in silence.

The silence continued as they walked from the bistro to his bike. As Mithila waited by his bike, Siddharth went across the road to get himself a cigarette.

"I am sorry, really sorry" he said, as he stubbed out the cigarette. "You know, I really did'nt mean...."

"It's okay Sid..its been five years now, I am so used to you. Lets not talk about it. We've met after a whole week, lets just have a good time and not spoil it with another fight...and hey, hurry up! the movie begins in 45 minutes, today being a weekend, tickets might be difficult to get..."

"errr...Mithu, I am sorry again, but you know, I am totally broke, with great difficulty I could get 50 bucks for petrol from mom...."

"Who's asking you to pay? come on lets go..."

She clung to him tightly as he kick-started the 15 year old, 2-stroke engine.

As they rode, this time too, the world around them ceased to exist.

A Toast to Success...

2009-02-25T12:28:00.003+05:30

This whole month in general, and the last couple of days in particular seems to have dedicated itself to savour the moment of success. Slumdog is on every one's lips, ears and any other part of the human anatomy capable of perception.

At this moment, I wish to raise a toast to a success, which is not publicized, but a success no less spectacular. I wish to raise a toast, to my dear friends, who after five years of solid hard work, dedication and commitment, have cleared their MBBS, and have realized their first step towards getting a foothold in this noble profession.

As smses and phone calls sending congratulatory messages kept me occupied yesterday, I was amazed at the academic brilliance shown by those with whom I had the honour of sharing the same class room benches.

Chengappa scoring 72%, Arjun 69%, Skandesh 68%, Amit 61%, Nischal 72% and a whopping distinction of 75% by Aakash gave me that confidence that the health of our country is in safe hands.

I would congratulate Aakash in particular, for his words post my congratulatory sms, "making money is just one thing, I am glad I can be of some use to society". Knowing him for so many years, I can distinguish the same words clearly from the speeches of several "netas" I have covered during my stint as a journalist. I know for sure, he means what he says.

The success of Skandesh is nothing surprising. The very epitome of hardwork, steadfast commitment and amazing concentration, Skandesh creates nothing else but a spectacle.

As the world celebrates the Oscars, I raise a silent toast to these friends and to all those who are doctors now ,and wish them all the very best.

Musings by a Mandolin enthusiast

2009-02-16T12:11:00.011+05:30

When I finally decided to pick up a new mandolin yesterday, (my old one is about to dump me, as I haven't paid her enough attention), I never thought I would actually blog about it.

Before I come to that part of my efforts to purchase one, it's worth mentioning here about the public perspective to this instrument. Eleven out of Ten people have asked me "what's is a mandolin?" and after I try to explain it in terms of size, that it is a string instrument like a guitar but different in numerous ways, has eight strings, "Mandolin" Srinivas...I still see a blank expression, till I throw the whopper "the instrument SRK plays in DDLJ". Instantaneously, a wave of recognition reflects. I guess I should say the "definition" instead of Mandolin, next time someone (PYTs in particular) asks me about my musical interests.

Anyways, back to my efforts to buy a mandolin here in Bengaluru, the experience was hilarious, yet showed me a very disappointing state-of-affairs.

My first stop was at Shiva Musicals, Malleswaram. The shop is just the right size to torture some one by solitary confinement, and their walls decorated with certificates and more certificates about their steadfast commitment to music (Indian Music in Particular). As a stark contrast, whatever space is left in that dump they call a shop, is filled with guitars, synthesizers and rhythm pads. (I understand mandolin is not an Indian Instrument, and I have nothing against western music.) When I enquired about the mandolin, he looked at me as if I were lice he had just pulled out of his hair, and said "Sir, this is a musical instruments shop...." Without bothering to retort, I walked out.

Next, I was at Sound Glitz, Residency Road. The punk over there was strumming a guitar, and strumming well. I patiently waited for him to finish. He then said " yes sir?". Feeling glad that some one is so engrossed in music, yet irritated that a customer was being ignored, I repeated my mandolin interest. He immediately went back to strumming, as if I was asking for "baksheesh" and said, "not available".

Still convinced I can pick up a mandolin, I went over to Reynolds Inc, just across Sound Glitz. The person over there was astonished that some one wants a mandolin. Just when I was about to complete my sigh of relief, he surprised me by asking his assistant " Hey, call up the other store of ours and ask if they have something called a mandolin....". My friends who had accompanied me, now began to doubt whether there was actually a musical instrument called mandolin, or was this some kind of a joke I was playing on them. As expected, it was not available, but he gave me a bit of confidence by saying "it is out of stock". That atleast convinced my friends I was not joking.

Now, I was not aware of any more shops. I then had a brainwave, to call JustDial, the phone directory service. Fantastic, as I searched my phone, I didn't have JustDial's number! Where can I call a directory who will give me the directorys number? So I called Pri, woke her up from her siesta, and made her give me some numbers she could find online. Poor thing, she obliged. Unfortunately, the phone went unanswered at Lewis and Sons, Koramangala and Aruna Musicals, Frazer Town said "they do not keep mandolins".

Then I decided to consider Premsons Musicals, Ulsoor, which was recommended by the Reynolds guy, he wasn't confident, but asked me to take a chance. My Good friend and a Violin Maestro, Dawn Jois, whom I had called to take an opinion, advised me strongly not to consider Premsons. Having no where else to go and nothing else to do, I visited Premsons. I was greeted by a closed shutter, and a big board which read "Sunday Holiday".

Just for a lark, I visited Yamaha Music Showroom, Indiranagar, I did not expect a mandolin there, but I was glad when the person there was aware of the instrument, and even said that they have mandolin tuners, but not a mandolin.

By now, I had considered it futile to buy a mandolin. My quest began at 1:15 PM, from my residence at HSR Layout, I travelled to Majestic, to meet my friends who promised to accompany me. From there to Malleswaram, and then to residency road, then Ulsoor, then Indiranagar... having covered an approximate distance of 45 km, I decided to call it quits at 4:45 PM.

While I was munching on the not-so-hot bajjis at Srihari Upahar, Indiranagar, I laughed it off to my friends, about the mandolin being a non entity, but deep within I felt, and am still feeling a pang of disgust, shame and helplessness. Helplessness and shame, because the world might not hear the melodious strains of the mandolin after a few years, and disgust, because, if people are ignorant about the mandolin, I, being a mandolin player, have treated my mandolin so shabbily, and have the audacity to talk about its extinction.

Unexpected rendezvous proceeds...

2008-11-16T17:34:00.003+05:30

Five months had passed since the day he asked Anupama out. Madhav sat in the balcony, with the cloudless night giving him the much needed serenity. He slowly dragged on his cigarette, reflecting on the chain of events that caused him to be six hundred miles away from Anupama. Two drinks of Johnny walker Black Label ensured that the relevant scenes are in a nostalgic sepia as they flashed by. For an instant, Madhav couldn't help laughing at himself for his mind to be not just so filmy but predictable at that. He smiled at his own predictability and resumed watching the flash-back scenes involving him and Anupama.

17th July, 2007 - 7:45 pm, Lower Parel, Mumbai
Madhav had not expected things would happen so fast. He was not prepared for a relationship, he was only trying to flirt, trying to convince himself that he can make any girl fall for him. As was his style, as he boastfully told his friends, he had never proposed any girl with whom he had had a relationship, however brief it might have lasted. Hence he was not surprised when Anupama had expressed her feelings for him, on that rainy night, in a taxi, as they chugged past the ITC Grand Maratha to have a 'cutting' chai in her favourite 'tapri'. Completely bowled over by the sincere love in her eyes, Madhav could not bring himself to tell her he is not interested in a commitment, especially immediately after his traumatic break up with Sandhya just about a month ago. On his way back, he carelessly stood on the footboard of the Virar fast, allowing the slight drizzle to caress him.

Unexpected Rendezvous - continues

2008-08-04T12:36:00.007+05:30

Madhav waited impatiently outside Phoenix mills. He was pacing up and down restlessly, glancing at his cell phone each passing second. He tried calling her cell phone, but his call went unanswered. “Will she show up at all?” he began to think. After all, they had met just once, and after that it had just been online conversations. He just took a chance when he expressed his desire to give her a treat on his birthday. He was exalted when she had agreed, but now, he felt she had just been humouring him.

He had almost made up his mind to leave when his cell phone buzzed. It was Anupama. He answered within milliseconds of the buzz. “Where are you?” he almost yelled into the phone. He then realised he has to play it cool and not seem desperate. He softened his tone and said “I mean, are you at home or are you out?” She said “hello, we were supposed to meet right? So how can I be at home? I am outside Phoenix mills.” When Madhav asked her why she hadn’t answered his calls she blurted out something about a problem with her SIM card, but he wasn’t listening. He was just happy that she had kept her word, though an hour late. He was sure she would have an explanation. He started walking towards High-Street Phoenix where she said she was waiting.

Unexpected rendezvous

2008-06-15T11:41:00.005+05:30

"An unexpected rendezvous turns into a special bond, until fate intervenes"

"If you are interested in freelance writing, please let me know", he wrote in her scrapbook. Though he was sure she would be a decent writer if not good, (as he had stumbled upon her profile in the mass media community) it was for sheer flirtatious purpose that he had scrapped her alone amongst several members in the community.

Within a couple of minutes, he had got a reply from her,"yes I am, please let me know the details".

"One masala papad?... okay thank you!" said uncle and he repeated the order to the kitchen. Janardhan, fondly called as uncle by the patrons, was the senior waiter in the local bar Nidhi, which had several regulars, of which Sunil and Madhav were most regular.

"I was chatting with a random chick yesterday, till about 2 in the morning" began Madhav, as soon as they had clinked "cheers". Sunil, till that time was stroking the beautiful model posing with Kinley soda on the table cloth, immediately stopped and said "what are you saying?"

By the time they had paid the bill a couple of hours later, Madhav had taken Sunil through his meeting as well as the entire conversation that followed with Anupama.

"Looks like I will be meeting her this weekend, Halder wanted to meet her. Raju sir is in Goa, hence Halder will do the briefing" said Madhav as they arose. "Thank you uncle!", they said in unison as they stepped out into the street. Madhav lit a cigarette, and after dropping off Sunil who lived just a stone throw away from Nidhi, he hailed an auto rickshaw.
- To be continued...

Missing College - renewing poetic license

2007-05-17T13:58:00.001+05:30

Not that I was regular student, who got 95% attendance, like several of my friends... but whatever little I attended, and more so the thought of having to part with several of my college mates is making me more than just nostalgic...it is giving me a feeling of having lost something which will never return again in this life...

When I woke up this morning, I was bombarded with memories, which is quite rare in my case... perhaps I had a dream, where I was preparing to go to college...and when I awoke, it took me a few seconds to realize I have finished my college life..

I called a few of my close friends, but it was quite early in the morning (10 am) so only a few answered, but it was great talking to them.

I happened to meet my very good friend Ketan online, and asked him to transfer me a few pictures taken on the last day of college.

While the pictures were being downloaded, I read his blog, and was dumbfounded by his poetic skills, which was again a nostalgic journey for me, as I too was once taking the poetic route when for reasons unknown and quite unconsciously I shifted focus to prose.

I now feel like shifting back and renewing my poetic license, how else can I express what I feel about missing college, without using seemingly exaggerated language and out of the world figures of speech??

Beyond Nostalgia.... COMING SOON !!!

Mozhi - An exception to my conception of tamil cinema

2007-05-14T23:03:00.000+05:30

In the very first few days of my landing here in coimbatore, I was made to watch a tamil film. It was a very bad CD, and more so, a very bad film, made by one of the persons in cinema, whom I very much respect. But the most surprising factor was the amount of commercial success, as well as public infatuation towards that kind of "formula" cinema.

Within a few days after that I watched a few similar films...and trust me I still cannot distinguish between them !

In a situation so pathetic, and so painful that I had come to hate tamil cinema from the" bottom of my bottom" ( a statement often used by my friend Clive), I happenned to watch a film that not only restored my belief in tamil cinema, but also made me salute the director and producer for daring to make such a film in the "formula" world of tamil cinema.

This film also restored my belief in tamil audience, who have made this film a commercial success.

The film which I am talking about is Mozhi (language). Directed by RadhaMohan and produced by Prakash Raj, it is truly a must watch.

Its a very light hearted film with great elements of ingeniuosly conceived comedy, which revolves around a musician falling in love with a deaf and mute girl, supported by his friend and her friend.

"Kaatrin mozhi..." is a beautiful song penned by Vairamuthu and set to tune by Vidyasagar, says language is no neccesity to live this life. Today where the world is heading towards a revolution in communication, the sharp irony of this song surely lingers in the minds of the viewers for quite a while.

A salute to Mr. RadhaMohan and Prakash Raj for this mind blowing effort.

Another thing that struck me in the movie is the video of the logo of duet movies. It can be interpretted in various ways, but simply put, its interesting.

Misusing the Right to Disappointment

2007-03-19T09:55:00.001+05:30

I must admit here that it does make my blood boil when certain things do not go the way they should especially for the Indian cricket team. One of my good friends has taken the effort to post a comment here saying it is not necessary to play the game to enjoy it. Well she is entitled to her opininon, but todays front page in the Times Of India (Mumbai edition) makes me feel I should have a say too about this game which I am so passionate about, which unfortunately millions in this country think they too are.

You may ask me why am I so hyper about this. There was a time (1996 onwards) when I had just one ambition in my little world; To play cricket for the country. The 96 world cup was the first world cup I ever watched with complete understanding of the game, and since then I have been an ardent worshipper of the game.

Why I did not become a full time cricketer, is a plot comprised of several complex instances, which are irrelevant, because the point I am trying make is very simple. A true fan of the game should have the maturity to consider the players who represent us, as fellow humans. Sadly, our audience look upon our cricketers as entertainers. They do not look upon them as sportsmen. Cricketers are looked upon, am very sorry to use this analogy, like slaves in a colossium. Like Gladiators, if you win you get all the glory, and defeat = death.

Well, there is absolutely nothing wrong in us sitting under the roof, with the AC on, cool drinks, lays and lays and lays (no one can eat just one) and saying "are yaar...yeh sehwag ko tho team mein lena hi nahi chahiye". Audience have every right to enjoy, simlarly they have the right to disappointment.

But things go wrong when the audience start to do things outside their AC rooms. Now that is where my point comes in. If you have played any level, by any I mean just ANY level, like for instance even if you have represented your building against the neighbouring building, or your Co Op society against the other, you would obviously understand the pressure of representing a mass.

Let me tell you this. In my school in Bangalore we used to have inter class matches. Class 5 V/s Class 6; Class 6 V/s Class 7 etc. These were unofficial. There were about 120 students in each of these classes and of which only 11 would get to play. This selection would be done on the basis of the internal class matches we used to have every saturday.

At that age I have experienced a thousandth of a fraction of the pressure faced by our players. When you are in class 6, a defeat against class 5 and that is the end of the world. For a whole month after that, School would become hell.

" Why did they take Raman Chander? he is goood for nothing. They should have taken XYZ..."

"just because by fluke he hit 22 (in one over) in selection, he was taken?? now see, in extras only he gave of 7 runs...".

When I walk to the assembly class 5 girls would walk near by, and purposely say..." our boys made mincemeat of the seniors"...

These things would keep ringing in my ears for eternity...

So what I mean is, agreed Sehwag did not play well, may be he needs a break, he needs to step down the order, but the team management and the selection commitee has given him another oppurtunity, and is'nt it the duty of us, the ardent fans of the game to give full encouragement to the team we love??

Personally how many of us are receptive to criticism?? When I called a fan unfit to watch cricket, immediately a flaring response shot up. How much can the players tolerate when the whole country calls them unfit to play cricket??

Imagine every TV channel blaring with news comprised of statements of hundreds saying " Send Sehwag back, I will pay for his ticket" " Dravid is unfit to be captain", " Sachin tendulkar is finished"....and not only that, images like women dressed in cricket gear, staging protests, burning of effigies, and moreover, destruction of houses !! Mahendra Singh Dhoni's house which was underconstruction (given to him by the Jharkhand Government) was destroyed by fans !! He is even threatened with dire consequences !! Fans or Hooligans ?? A fan is a short for fanatic I undersatnd. But be an ardent fan of your team, and do your best to encourage them.

We, being staunch supporters of Indian cricket have to encourage our boys to do well in this tournament. and hello...who the hell defined "doing well" as winning the world cup?. If you did well in your exams, does that imply you have topped?? or is it that if you have scored 80% marks you did not do well??

Looking at it ideally, imagine the difference it would have made for the morale of the team, when messages like " forget the defeat, you can and will surely bounce back, come on Team India..." kept flashing around...

Some people told me that this would mean to the players as " kuch bhi karo..public apna hi hai...support zaroor milegi...." they feel this kind of intense pressure is needed to wake up the team. Again lack of professionalism; No one knows their fate better than players if they do not perform.

I would say come on Team India....doesent matter what happens at the world cup. I am still with you.

A salute to those players, who have made us smile on several occasions. We inturn have succeded in making them cry.

Losing of a game, beginning of a blog...

2007-03-18T09:53:00.002+05:30

Time to learn lessons from the Dogs ??

It is quite strange, but incredibly true that the very moment Mushfiq Tahim of

Bangladesh hit the winning boundary against India in India's inaugural match of the ICC cricket world cup 2007, the very first thought that came to my mind (at 3:00 am, yawn !) was to create my own blog !

Though i was'nt exactly feeling sleepy, as i spent another hour playing online cricket (www.zapak.com) (I must have played about a million times and each time I chose India as my team and my opponent as Bangladesh and thrashed them around like hell penting all my fury).

Therefore this blog had to wait for 7 hours....

Pakistan ousted from the world cup by Ireland...another shocker. I was particulary looking forward for a crucial India - Pakistan Showdown.

Though I do not believe in terms like destiny, fate, god,....there has to be some reason behind yesterday, the 17th of March 2007 being the underdogs (sorry, they are no more underdogs as they have defeated world beaters)....what the world thought to be as underdogs to tear their opponents apart (snarl...growl...)

I wish I had known that this day the 17th of March would have been an underdogs day( pardon me...I will still call them underdogs...Iam sure they will be shown their place by the giants...and India are still cricketing giants... like hell I care to those critics who send those smses and emails to TV Channels...post blogs etc.. saying"Indian cricket is finished"," sack Dravid", "send Sehwag home" and so on and so forth...these critics have'nt even held a bat or thrown a cricket ball in their lives at some professional level of cricket.)

Coming back to the day of underdogs, I wish I had known earlier.., I would have rather given my Broadcast Journalism exam instead of coming back retired hurt after having gone all the way to college, (complaining of Severe stomach cramps, giddiness and setting of high fever).

If I had any idea about it being the day of the underdogs...I would have bravely fought my illness and given my exams...after all Iam the Bangladesh and Ireland of academics !

I would have basked in the glory of topping this paper !!