Smells Like Team Spirit

Few days are special and January 19.2008 will be etched in memories of Indian cricket lovers for a long time. Whacking Australians at WACA takes something and mind you saying so is a gross understatement. And this “something” has been done finally. Kudos to India.

Well with too much cricket played all around, with players complaining of sore limbs and tired shoulders, these days every match stands like an entity going down in record books. Few tons scored, few fifers taken and adding up to statisticians’ delight.

Among these matches, Perth test match would be remembered because it was most unlikely venue for an Indian conquest. Not long back bowlers around the world used to boast of making Indian do hip hop on chin music treatment. Tennis ball bounce, deliveries precariously close to ears and green hard belt of a 22 yard strip;demons started playing in minds of Indian team before they really took few on their knuckles. Opposition bowlers were deemed undertakers ready to provide merciful killing for our hapless willow wielders. And all we could have as a team was a 15 minutes of glory provided by certain Gavaskar and in later years by another mumbaikar Tendulkar. But team surrendered arms too tamely, thinking they did not have ammunition to fight anyways.

So it was pleasant surprise to see bunch of 11 gentlemen in white flannels emerge as super fighters and take wind out of Aussies’ sails. What was even more pleasing was the team coming as a winner sans any single piece of individual brilliance. There were notable contributions but in the end they gelled as a team celebrating each other’s moments of success and consoling few moments of despair. The desperation to give it back to hosts was palpable on every single Indian face. None symbolized it better than Dhoni’s desperate run to deep third man to hold onto a remote offering by Clark. I have always been an admirer of Kumble and to this date I would rate him along with Dravid as two most crucial components of great Indian conquests. Kumble is a humble and silent person whose action speaks louder than thousand words. One has to marvel at his grit and determination, bowling over after over with a broken jaw against windies springs to my mind when asked to describe Indian skipper.

Excellent victory to savor gentlemen, we all await many more over somewhat overweening Aussies. Soar like a Team and your ear to ear grins will be maintained.

PS: Win at Perth is another big hurdle overcome; as I started watching cricket I always felt there are few venues on “eternally cursed list” for Indians, winning it meant another name gets vanished from that list. Here is what the list looked like few years back.

Leeds, Headinglay ; England

Old Trafford, Manchaster: England ( famous for India’s caving in for 42 runs )

WACA, Perth: Australia

Bridgetown, Barbados : West Indies

Kingston, Jamaica: West Indies

Christchurch : New Zealand

Port Elizabeth : South Africa

Leeds, WACA and Kingston are already off this cursed list, awaiting others to follow the suit soon….

Lost in a magic world

Good work of art needs to be effortless. Garnished by a certain degree of serendipity they appeal to heart as they ooze of grace. Dreamy streak comes so naturally to them. A thing of beauty can not be made up. Laden with artificiality it turns you off. Natural charisma weaves a magic world, a world you want to end up wandering in. To me Khoya Khoya Chand signifies same natural, beautiful, innocent and enchanting world.

Retro look is the modern mantra today. Those belly bottoms which were adored by our moms and aunts are back into fashion, doted on by svelte lasses supposedly expert in haute culture. Even in a world which seemingly swears by metro sexual male, his ruggedness is lapped up with alacrity. So it was not great surprise to see rushes of a movie some times back which created aura of 50’s. of course this seems to be best time encash on retrospection , my heart told me. To top it all, those who watched it weren’t really enthused by the show. They rather trashed it , deeming it a beautiful looking movie with nothing in it. Well they almost dampened an already sagging spirit. Well movie could have been a damp squib and throwing all these friendly reviews to winds we dared to venture out to watch it. Reasons? No, I wasn’t too sure of Sudhir Mishra’s exploits though he won over all of us through “Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi”. But he was the man behind a loud bombed one called “Chameli” too. Shiney Ahuja is a marvelous actor but he has been wasted before. But I still preferred to take on perennially inclement December nights of Delhi as ticket came cheap and frankly I had little work at hand .Killing time can be so tough sometimes. And yeah against all negative publicity there was a lovely friend of mine who egged me on and said “Go , watch it” .

First half was nice spell cast on me. A beautiful combination of exquisite background, creditable acting and some real innovative direction took my breath away. Shiney Ahuja was simply brilliant as suffering son, looking for identity and dignity. Many actors have come and gone, but to see a non UP/Bihari actor excel in garb of a young man from Lucknow , who is confident yet somewhat insecure, was refreshing and don’t expect many to outshine his effort soon. He was caring yet egoist, he was loving yet abusive, he had tender heart yet managed to hurt, did not have a secured future but had pluck in those eyes I simply could not help but falling all over this character. To be honest somewhere down there felt traces of it were too well known.

Second half was not as charming as the first one. It was difficult to match those soared expectations after the first half. Still it was not a damp squib. At some point felt it being far fetched at others weird and at some other hopelessly romantic. Characters had different hues and shades unlike those eternally loved and abhorred ones. End was sudden but not completely unanticipated.

Watch this movie it you have human feeling deep in side this human drawer called heart. If there is a dreamy streak in your eyes, if you can imagine beautiful things, if you love being lost sometimes, if you are a wandering soul and can appreciate feelings and things of beauty, better shell out some buck you may rue missing an opportunity lost. Storyline is nothing great to rave about, it’s less about content and more about presentation, Style with certain substance would be best way to sum up this tinsel magic.

For all those hearts immersed in eternal romance

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;

I have found gulping typical mushy movies down a Herculean task. Not that I have something against feelings they try to imbibe but execution betrays the novel idea they undertake .which was the last romantic movie which moved me? Which made me wail? Which had an awe inspiring couple in lead and had each single frame of it frozen in my mind? I may not be the most demonstrative person on the earth nor a maudlin who needs excuses to moisten his eyes. Tears may well up there, but with a probability which is waning anyways.

“Eternal sunshine of spotless mind” came as a pleasant surprise which defied typical remorse I used to have after choosing another romantic movie sans strong undercurrents of love. Somewhere down the line I could see a line blurring between wannabes and true lovers. After a longtime I felt I was gliding in a wonderland, was careening off to world of magic and mysticism leaving the much hated reality road.

Novel concept leads to exhilarating cinema. A hopeful and loving heart may win over all odds even the odds stacked in a mind ,ready to refuse reality, ready to forget a true love . Sometimes it is confusing, othertimes perplexing and few moments of despair too, but glimmer of hope may wan, but is always there to beat goliaths of despair and amnesia.

To accept and cling to true love is something only courageous can do. To repel a feeling of vengeance which may so easily creep into human mind and not to forget a true love even when your mind implores you to do is the true love for me. Not to suffocate in maze of myths and hypocrisies of your mind , rather let it know that all tortuous mazes can be made simple because true love has to come out trumps.

Hats off to unpredictably tender and unapologetically twisted romance. In a mind stuffed with few set toxic Hollywood formulae , there is at least a movie which may leave hard nosed persons smile and say “Love is a beautiful feeling”

Inexplicable joy of a bath in winter

I am a squeaky clean person in metaphorical and symbolical senses. Well may sound a bit too arrogant to state something like that isn’t it? But I would be candid to admit that I am not some one who minds things being messed up in my vicinity. May even skip a bath or two in bone chilling winter days. Well of course such an evasive action has to be taken if water doesn’t warm up to me , it doesn’t really spread amicable vibes around or may be it does staying as amicable as Ali was to Foreman , Lillee was to Miandad, McEnroe to any of his rivals(plus ill fated umpires ) and recently as Symonds has been to Bhajji. On such occasions I used to observe “Dry Day”, I had fewer options you see.

This December has been pleasantly different. How? Unlike first year at this supposedly esteemed college of management, we have plenty of time to spare in bathroom. First year used to be horrible, a single bathroom and six occupants all vying to complete their daily rituals. Your time was ticking away when you were going through process of eradicating exterior blemishes. And if that was not all your crazy friends acted as paparazzis wanting to get any snap worth getting published in centre spreads. Well yeah India is developing at breakneck 9% rate and we at IIFT too feel duly prospered. From those horrible days of making bathrooms feel like Panchali , it is much more legal and tolerable now with two sharing the same. Hence probability of your getting water defying the abrasive pontisque weather increases three times. so this winter has seen me squeaky clean pretty much physically too, letting it to be poured over me . well my pretty much clean slate was destined to be muddled at home where power keeps playing hide and seek and has good mischievous and erratic supply ever done one single good thing to us?? Ask my mom and she would say with tongue firmly in cheek “Yeah, I never had to defrost my refrigerator Son”. True but then it was about to rob me of my squeaky clean record, frigid power supply may not conspire for me. Ah and here comes hand pump, a throwback on good old times when they used to pump it out of earth’s belly. And I am allowed to continue my much loved much dreaded journey along. Yeah home did not break the enviable record for me, rather made me natural. Yeah one more in army of unabashed advocates of going in nature’s lap. May be my slate would stay clean this winter and Aussies would make their marred at WACA . Amen!!!!!!!!!!
PS: and it seems water sourcing and consumption at home hasn’t only made me spotless, it has also helped my arms well blessed and endowed. Two of them complimented fot that and I thanked for taking nature’s call at home this winter.