No man might have ever played tennis the way Roger Federer does. The Swiss master constantly stretches the limits of the possible, exploring new vistas in his own luminous soul. His great matches are not athletic contests; they are timeless compositions. This is why Federer is a greater athlete than Tiger Woods, the man who might end up as the greatest golfer of all time, writes Nirmal Shekar.
The very best of sport is not sport at all; for, it is only when sport breaks its often well-defined boundaries and ventures into alien territory and becomes a sort of super-sport that it is at its very best.
This is precisely why when you experience some of the greatest sporting moments, you don't often think of them as moments of mere athletic excellence but something way beyond that.
It first happened to me in July 1984. I was floating, although I couldn't have described the feeling in any clear terms at that time, a time when `I' and `Me' were lost, pushed back to the recesses of consciousness, a time when experience itself was dominated by a glorious new unity, magically encompassing everything — the experience and the experiencer, the performer and the performance, the stage and the setting, on a balmy summer afternoon at the All England Lawn Tennis Club in Wimbledon.
John McEnroe was playing Jimmy Connors in the final of the men's championship. That, of course, was the external reality. For, internal experience told you something else. Old Johnny Mac wasn't playing anybody; for this wasn't a match as much as it was an inspired composition with a tormented genius in communion with the truly life-enhancing creative depths of his soul.
Then, it happened to me again 15 years on, at the same place, also in early July. Pete Sampras was playing Andre Agassi in the final in 1999 and from midway in the first set to early in the third, the great man "walked on water'' as his opponent would concede.
The last time I experienced this almost indescribable feeling was quite recently, at the Australian Open last month, on a Thursday evening indoors at the Rod Laver Arena. It was an evening when Roger Federer, His Royal Lightness, danced a celestial dance on air while playing Andy Roddick in the semifinals.
"You feel like he is barely touching the ground. That's the sign of a great champion," said Rod Laver, a man who knows a thing or two about greatness, having swept the Slams in 1962 and 1969, a feat that may be beyond even the Swiss maestro.
All great athletic performers, when in flow, when they are in the zone, may come close to producing in the spectators/viewers such an exalted experience. But, few actually manage to elevate their act to a reality-altering experience as did McEnroe in 1984, Sampras in 1999 and Federer a few weeks ago.
Of course, such soul-lifting masterpieces are not limited to tennis. I remember a tournament in Sharjah in the late 1990s when Sachin Tendulkar turned a desert into a blooming paradise, so to say, playing innings after innings of such breathtaking beauty.
So, indeed, have a few other great sportspersons, not the least the enigmatic Diego Maradona in Mexico in 1986, Tiger Woods at the Augusta Masters and at the British Open, the gymnast Nadia Comaneci in the Montreal Olympics, Steffi Graf at the French Open in 1988... well, you could go on and on.
Yet, the question is this: has any athlete touched this almost otherworldly high as often as Federer does these days on the tennis circuit? Has anyone ever `walked on water' not so much as a once-in-a-lifetime, near superhuman effort but almost as a matter of habit, as does the Swiss master?
Over the last few months, there has been a lot of talk in the world of sport comparing Federer with Woods, sizing up two young men treading unique paths to surpassing greatness. Not surprisingly, both the Swiss and the American are keenly aware of where they are headed, possessed as they are of a rich sense of history. They have even met a few times, exchanged notes, patted each other on the back and remain good friends.
While Federer won his 10th Grand Slam title in Melbourne, Woods stretched his unbeaten run on the PGA Tour to seven tournaments, something no man has done in 62 years. While Federer, aged 25, is well on his way to beating Pete Sampras's record of 14 Grand Slam titles, Woods, aged 31, is six short of Jack Nicklaus's 18.
Given their respective ages and the quality of opposition in their sports, both men can be backed to set a new benchmark.
Woods, perhaps, has a little more time than Federer, given that golf can be played and mastered at the highest levels a lot longer — Jack Nicklaus won the last of his majors, at Augusta, in 1986 when he was 46 years old — but Federer has fewer challengers pushing him than Woods.
"The only thing going for me is that I have longevity in my corner,'' Woods said recently.
But, then, Federer is so dominant in men's tennis that he may not take long to win another five Grand Slam titles, which is what he needs to leave Sampras behind.
Sampras himself has acknowledged this. "I don't see anyone pushing him, so I could see him winning 17, 18, 19 majors. He has 10 already and he is in the middle of his career. He just came along at the right time and is playing tremendous tennis and I don't see him stopping now,'' said the seven-time Wimbledon champion.
Federer is so far away from the rest that, as a competitive sport, men's tennis has become a bit of a joke except on clay where Rafael Nadal has so far dominated the Swiss great.
In ranking points, Federer (8120) is 3345 ahead of Nadal, ranked No. 2. If you took away that many points from what Nadal has (4775), you get as far down as No. 17! What is more, Federer's record against his Top Ten rivals is incredible. Nikolay Davydenko is ranked No. 3. Federer is 8-0 against him. Only Nadal has a superior record against Federer (6-3), although it is significant to note that the world champion has beaten the Spaniard the last two times they have met (Wimbledon, Shanghai Masters) and the trend may well have reversed already.
Against Andy Roddick, Federer is 13-1, against James Blake he is 6-0 and against Fernando Gonzalez, whom he beat in the Australian Open final, the world No. 1 is 10-0.
Playing a sport that is a lot different from tennis, Woods may not have run up such impressive statistics. But the gifted American is almost as dominant as Federer is, although he did miss the cut at the U.S. Open last year — the equivalent of Federer losing before the quarterfinals of a Grand Slam, something that has not happened since May 2004.
This apart, Woods has had to do business in vastly different conditions from week to week. Given that golf courses can be very different from one another, and given the influence that weather conditions can have on play, Woods certainly has a harder job, although tennis too is played on different surfaces and the wind and the heat can be more than minor influences during matches.
Where Woods is ahead of Federer is in his sweep of the four majors — the Tiger Slam — a feat he accomplished in 2000-01. While the American has won every one of the four majors in golf — the Augusta Masters, the British Open, the U.S. Open and the PGA championship — at least twice, Federer is yet to win the French Open, where he was beaten in the final by Nadal last year.
But, after watching Federer's progress over the last six or seven months — a period during which he has lost just one match, to Britain's up-and-coming Andrew Murray — I believe that Federer has turned a corner. He has a better chance of winning the French Open — and beating Nadal on clay — this season than he did ever before in the past. His confidence has, predictably, reached stratospheric levels, and Nadal has not come close to beating him since the French final.
"I think he can (win the French Open) because he grew up playing on clay and he's come close the last two years,'' said Sampras during a recent teleconference to announce his return to the game, playing a few events on a tour for over-30 players. "I really believe he can win there.''
If Federer does win the French, it would be a major step towards the pinnacle after being celebrated by Laver himself as the greatest to ever wield a tennis racquet.
"That (winning the French) would be a dream come true,'' said Federer, a day after taking his 10th Grand Slam title in Melbourne.
But, to me, these — the French title, the number of Slams, weeks at No. 1 — are minor details when it comes to Federer. What matters to me is not how many titles he wins, or how often he wins, but merely how he wins matches. I spent a whole match at Melbourne recently watching his feet alone, not his racquet, not his opponent. It turned out to be a marvellous lesson. The man does dance on air, or at least he gives you the impression that he does, so light of foot he is.
If it is rather pointless and plainly illogical to compare athletes across eras, then it is even more absurd to compare athletes from different sports based on their records alone. After all, Woods hits a stationary ball and Federer one that moves, a distinction that is hugely significant. Yet, the temptation is irresistible, and even professional athletes cannot seem to resist it.
"It's a joke if you think Tiger's better than Federer,'' the Havard-educated James Blake was quoted as saying in the tennis website www.insidetennis.com recently. "Not to take anything away from Tiger because he is an unbelievable golfer, I'd make a case for Roger being the best athlete of our time — not tennis player — athlete.''
This, of course, is a case that has a lot of merit. For, no man might have ever played tennis the way Federer does. The Swiss master constantly stretches the limits of the possible, exploring new vistas in his own luminous soul. His great matches are not athletic contests; they are timeless compositions.
"You know what?'' an old friend and long-time tennis fan said — on telephone from Mumbai — the morning after the Federer masterclass that ended in a humiliating defeat for Roddick in Melbourne. "Roger is not sport, watching him is a spiritual experience.''
Although I am a well grounded naturalist and materialist, I told him he was right. I could understand why my friend should have felt the way he did. That is precisely why we human beings experience the best of music and art quite often as a sort of spiritual experience. It's a myth. But it doesn't hurt, does it?
Few will say this of Woods. We are often in awe of the great golfer, like an earlier generation of sports fans were in awe of Don Bradman. But Mozart and Van Gogh don't come to mind readily while watching Woods on the fairways and greens.
They do when Roger Federer dances his celestial dance on air.
* * *
SO THEY SAID
On Roger Federer
Oh, I would be honoured to even be compared to Roger. He is such an unbelievable talent, and is capable of anything. Roger could be the greatest tennis player of all time. It's hardly fair that one person can do all this — his backhands, his forehands, volleys, serving, his court position ... the way he moves around the court. I think the art of Roger is probably the best I've ever seen.
— Rod Laver
He's the most gifted player that I've ever seen in my life. I've seen a lot of people play. I've seen the (Rod) Lavers, I played against some of the great players — the Samprases, Beckers, Connors, Borgs, you name it. This guy could be the greatest of all time. That, to me, says it all.
— John McEnroe
We have a guy from Switzerland who is just playing the game in a way I haven't seen anyone — and I mean anyone — play before. How fortunate we are to be able to see that. If he stays healthy and motivated — and the wonderful feel he has stays with him — he is the kind of guy who can overtake the greatest.
— Boris Becker
On Tiger Woods
There isn't a flaw in his golf or his makeup. He will win more majors than Arnold Palmer and me combined. Somebody is going to dust my records. It might as well be Tiger, because he's such a great kid. He has the finest, fundamentally sound golf swing I've ever seen.
— Jack Nicklaus
At the end of the day, is Tiger better than Jack, or is Jack better than Tiger? We won't know until it's all over and done with. But with the numbers he's putting up now, you have to give him (Woods) the edge.
— Greg Norman
The most impressive player that I have seen to this date, at this stage of his game, and without question with the most potential that I have ever seen — his mannerisms, his maturity, his basic fundamentals and approach to the game is Tiger Woods. He is the soundest young player that I have ever seen. The only guy I can think about that would have been close to that in youth and ability was Nicklaus. We played the other day and even Jack agreed that he didn't have the poise and the stature that Woods has right now.
— Arnold Palmer
Friday, April 20, 2007
Greg vs The Guys: a tragicomedy
Another one by Nirmal . I am huge fan of his writing and still wonder why the man doesnt get as much adoration as he richly deserves. A gem of a writer and that still remains an understatement ......
Forget the World Cup in the Caribbean. Forget, too, the evergreen Sanath Jayasuriya's marvellous heroics with the bat and the ball. Pay no attention to the celebration of the great Glenn McGrath's final hurrah. Say goodbye to Guyana and Antigua and quickly turn your attention to our own Mumbai, a teeming city where nine-tenths of life is an argument.
For, Indian cricket's intriguing, never-ending game within the game has begun once again. And the stirring, unmissable climactic scenes of the Blame Game are scheduled to be enacted in India's commercial capital on Friday and Saturday.
Nothing validates Friedrich Nietzsche's idea of Eternal Recurrence as convincingly as do the crises in Indian cricket.
In the context of the nation's sporting religion, the more things change the more they remain the same. "Life is but a dream whose shapes return," wrote T.S. Eliot in The Waste Land. Substitute `nightmare' for dream and you might get an idea of what it is like in Indian cricket.
But then, who cares in what shapes these nightmares return? After all, it is another round of riveting entertainment for a cricketing public still mourning the premature departure of Rahul Dravid's men from the World Cup.
Washing dirty linen
A complaisant audience will be treated to the latest episode of the long-running let's-smear-each-other-in-public tragicomedy. And this will be screened at convenient times, during daylight and early evening hours — you don't have to keep awake through the night to watch the drama and then land up slightly disoriented and bleary eyed at work the next day. Of course, we must thank Indian cricket for such small mercies.
One must admit that the sneak previews have been awe-inspiring. If they are anything to go by, we can look forward to seat-edge thrills on Friday and Saturday.
Then again, for all the seeming sameness, there is indeed a touch of variety these days. In the old days, the villains used to be men living across the border from us.
These days, the bad guys happen to carry Australian passports. Or, are they Indian passports? Are the bad guys home-grown ones? We are not even sure at this point. Not bad at all _ cricket is certainly doing better than Bollywood and Kollywood movies when it comes to plotlines.
So, welcome, then, to Greg versus The Guys, senior guys I might add. Forget a possible Australia-South Africa face-off on April 28. This — what is going to be played in Mumbai — is the mother of all finals.
And now, to the big question: who is right and who is wrong? Who are the heroes and who are the villains? It is no surprise, of course, that all these questions come up only when the team fails — which, these days, is often enough.
Collective failure
But the truth is, it is a collective failure — collective not merely in the sense of the coach and the players put together but in a sense that encompasses everything, even things that go beyond the sport in question.
For, it is a systemic malady. Poorly engineered leaky systems will always throw up situations in which such nightmarish scenarios arise time and again.
In a stimulating book The Lucifer Effect: How Good People Turn Evil, Philip Zimbardo, Professor Emeritus of Psychology at Stanford University, comes up with the argument that evil is not only about those who appear to cause it but, more importantly, it is about the situations and systems that let it flourish.
As much is true of all the stink in Indian cricket. For, it is not merely about individuals, their behaviour and attitudes; it is about the overall system that makes room for such behaviour and attitudes.
Surely, we can point a finger at Greg Chappell and say that the Aussie coach never thought it a virtue to keep his mouth shut, especially in the company of men and women whose job it is to make public such pearls of wisdom as may have been on offer.
After all, over the last two years, Greg Chappell-interviews have been as much a staple in newspapers and television channels as are weather reports. But the problem does go beyond Chappell's loquaciousness.
Surely, we can point a finger at some senior players for wanting to `own' their places in the Indian team, for living on past glory and believing that their celebrity alone would help them stay in the side forever. But, again, the problem goes beyond such selfish attitudes.
Clearer vision
To get to the root of the problem needs not only perseverance but also the willingness to cast away the old foggy spectacles through which we have come to view Indian cricket and its crises. It calls for vision in a business where visionaries are in short supply.
It is because of this, it is because a massive system-overhaul — something that shakes up the greedy, complacent and largely inefficient administration for a start — does not seem likely that I believe whatever comes out of the BCCI meetings on Friday and Saturday will make no big difference to the long term health of Indian cricket.
And life — and cricket — will go on as ever in this country. For, this is one product that has never witnessed any consumer resistance in India. Whatever the quality, tens of millions are ready to lap it all up.
Forget the World Cup in the Caribbean. Forget, too, the evergreen Sanath Jayasuriya's marvellous heroics with the bat and the ball. Pay no attention to the celebration of the great Glenn McGrath's final hurrah. Say goodbye to Guyana and Antigua and quickly turn your attention to our own Mumbai, a teeming city where nine-tenths of life is an argument.
For, Indian cricket's intriguing, never-ending game within the game has begun once again. And the stirring, unmissable climactic scenes of the Blame Game are scheduled to be enacted in India's commercial capital on Friday and Saturday.
Nothing validates Friedrich Nietzsche's idea of Eternal Recurrence as convincingly as do the crises in Indian cricket.
In the context of the nation's sporting religion, the more things change the more they remain the same. "Life is but a dream whose shapes return," wrote T.S. Eliot in The Waste Land. Substitute `nightmare' for dream and you might get an idea of what it is like in Indian cricket.
But then, who cares in what shapes these nightmares return? After all, it is another round of riveting entertainment for a cricketing public still mourning the premature departure of Rahul Dravid's men from the World Cup.
Washing dirty linen
A complaisant audience will be treated to the latest episode of the long-running let's-smear-each-other-in-public tragicomedy. And this will be screened at convenient times, during daylight and early evening hours — you don't have to keep awake through the night to watch the drama and then land up slightly disoriented and bleary eyed at work the next day. Of course, we must thank Indian cricket for such small mercies.
One must admit that the sneak previews have been awe-inspiring. If they are anything to go by, we can look forward to seat-edge thrills on Friday and Saturday.
Then again, for all the seeming sameness, there is indeed a touch of variety these days. In the old days, the villains used to be men living across the border from us.
These days, the bad guys happen to carry Australian passports. Or, are they Indian passports? Are the bad guys home-grown ones? We are not even sure at this point. Not bad at all _ cricket is certainly doing better than Bollywood and Kollywood movies when it comes to plotlines.
So, welcome, then, to Greg versus The Guys, senior guys I might add. Forget a possible Australia-South Africa face-off on April 28. This — what is going to be played in Mumbai — is the mother of all finals.
And now, to the big question: who is right and who is wrong? Who are the heroes and who are the villains? It is no surprise, of course, that all these questions come up only when the team fails — which, these days, is often enough.
Collective failure
But the truth is, it is a collective failure — collective not merely in the sense of the coach and the players put together but in a sense that encompasses everything, even things that go beyond the sport in question.
For, it is a systemic malady. Poorly engineered leaky systems will always throw up situations in which such nightmarish scenarios arise time and again.
In a stimulating book The Lucifer Effect: How Good People Turn Evil, Philip Zimbardo, Professor Emeritus of Psychology at Stanford University, comes up with the argument that evil is not only about those who appear to cause it but, more importantly, it is about the situations and systems that let it flourish.
As much is true of all the stink in Indian cricket. For, it is not merely about individuals, their behaviour and attitudes; it is about the overall system that makes room for such behaviour and attitudes.
Surely, we can point a finger at Greg Chappell and say that the Aussie coach never thought it a virtue to keep his mouth shut, especially in the company of men and women whose job it is to make public such pearls of wisdom as may have been on offer.
After all, over the last two years, Greg Chappell-interviews have been as much a staple in newspapers and television channels as are weather reports. But the problem does go beyond Chappell's loquaciousness.
Surely, we can point a finger at some senior players for wanting to `own' their places in the Indian team, for living on past glory and believing that their celebrity alone would help them stay in the side forever. But, again, the problem goes beyond such selfish attitudes.
Clearer vision
To get to the root of the problem needs not only perseverance but also the willingness to cast away the old foggy spectacles through which we have come to view Indian cricket and its crises. It calls for vision in a business where visionaries are in short supply.
It is because of this, it is because a massive system-overhaul — something that shakes up the greedy, complacent and largely inefficient administration for a start — does not seem likely that I believe whatever comes out of the BCCI meetings on Friday and Saturday will make no big difference to the long term health of Indian cricket.
And life — and cricket — will go on as ever in this country. For, this is one product that has never witnessed any consumer resistance in India. Whatever the quality, tens of millions are ready to lap it all up.
Trashing Tendulkar isn't cricket
One old article on Sachin Tendulkar by God of all writers on sport who else but Nirmal Sekhar.
All i can say is the man has made me smile whenever i got hold of an article by him . Savor the man and find him at his stupendeous best as ever........
MANY a connoisseur of cricket may have come to believe, on Sunday, that the unthinkable has happened when Sachin Tendulkar was booed all the way back to the pavilion at the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai by sections of the crowd. But, in truth, it was unimaginable only because we may have failed to scratch the surface of our fast-evolving cricketing culture, only because we have probably failed to see the fast-emerging darkness in the very soul of a once-great culture, which is dumbing down rather alarmingly.
Trashing Tendulkar for an uncharacteristic failure is much like attempting to dismantle the Taj because one of its walls has developed a minor crack over time. It is simply not done. And the shocking incident in Mumbai says more about where we — as a nation of cricket-obsessed people — are headed than about Tendulkar's own travails in the twilight of an unmatched career.
In the fullness of time, we will know whether the great man's nightmare-run with the bat is a temporary slump in form or, perhaps, the beginning of a much more serious career crisis. But, right now, this issue is less relevant than the fact that people who may have never had the good fortune to let their spirits soar to exalted levels with each Tendulkar symphony chose to greet his first innings departure with catcalls and booes to leave a scar on the not-so-pretty face of the game in India.
If the poignancy of that dark moment on Sunday afternoon went way beyond sport, then it was also a quick reminder that as sportslovers quite a few of us have now become ``here and now'' people in the worst possible connotation that term can take on.
For, if the ones that booed the little maestro had had the good sense to look beyond the man's momentary struggles at the crease to the grand monument he has left behind, his dismissal might have brought a sort of heaviness to their hearts and tied up their tongues in sheer disbelief.
Then again, for many sportslovers, that is precisely the problem today — they have lost the capacity to appreciate history, to look at the larger picture, to go beyond the most recent stimuli and understand events in a historical perspective.
Worshippers of instant celebrity
Many of us, thanks to the influences of the age in which we live, have become worshippers of instant celebrity. The non-stop dross coming at us from all directions has forced us to wilfully conclude that today's success is the greatest success ever achieved, that today's seat-edge thriller is the greatest game ever played, that today's superstar is the greatest megastar of all times.
When our sporting culture has suffered this sort of corruption, when its essential core has been eroded by these giant new waves, it is hardly surprising that a great icon such as Tendulkar should himself become a victim in his own backyard.
The point is, Tendulkar never promised any of us a masterly century in every innings that he might get to play. We were the ones who set that impossible goal for the little man. That he has failed to meet that unrealistic goal is no sheen off his greatness; it merely throws light on our own foolishness.
At no point in his remarkable career did Tendulkar tell us that he was immortal; we turned him into a sort of superhuman phenomenon — where none exists in the known world — because we were perhaps ashamed of our own all too human limitations and wanted someone not-quite-like-us to look up to.
Never in the last 16 years that he has been dominating our sporting consciousness has Tendulkar ever hinted that he was invincible; we turned him into an invincible champion because we felt the need to bolster our own sense of everyday reality with something supernatural.
Harsh reality
The harsh reality of the capricious business of sport is this: every champion that has ever drawn breath, every champion as yet unborn, can be sure of one thing — some day, he will fail. The world of sport is yet to toast a truly invincible athlete.
But, then, in dealing with Tendulkar's failure — or any issue of this sort — it is very easy to find the answer we want; much, much more difficult to find the answer that matches the truth.
Of course, as passionate followers of the game, we are entitled to our own opinions. If some of us believe that the great man may not deserve a place in the team if he continues to fail, that's fair enough. Nobody owns a place in the Indian cricket team — not even Tendulkar.
But what is not fair — and will never be — is to stoop down to the sort of mindless pettiness that triggered the Mumbai booing on Sunday.
All i can say is the man has made me smile whenever i got hold of an article by him . Savor the man and find him at his stupendeous best as ever........
MANY a connoisseur of cricket may have come to believe, on Sunday, that the unthinkable has happened when Sachin Tendulkar was booed all the way back to the pavilion at the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai by sections of the crowd. But, in truth, it was unimaginable only because we may have failed to scratch the surface of our fast-evolving cricketing culture, only because we have probably failed to see the fast-emerging darkness in the very soul of a once-great culture, which is dumbing down rather alarmingly.
Trashing Tendulkar for an uncharacteristic failure is much like attempting to dismantle the Taj because one of its walls has developed a minor crack over time. It is simply not done. And the shocking incident in Mumbai says more about where we — as a nation of cricket-obsessed people — are headed than about Tendulkar's own travails in the twilight of an unmatched career.
In the fullness of time, we will know whether the great man's nightmare-run with the bat is a temporary slump in form or, perhaps, the beginning of a much more serious career crisis. But, right now, this issue is less relevant than the fact that people who may have never had the good fortune to let their spirits soar to exalted levels with each Tendulkar symphony chose to greet his first innings departure with catcalls and booes to leave a scar on the not-so-pretty face of the game in India.
If the poignancy of that dark moment on Sunday afternoon went way beyond sport, then it was also a quick reminder that as sportslovers quite a few of us have now become ``here and now'' people in the worst possible connotation that term can take on.
For, if the ones that booed the little maestro had had the good sense to look beyond the man's momentary struggles at the crease to the grand monument he has left behind, his dismissal might have brought a sort of heaviness to their hearts and tied up their tongues in sheer disbelief.
Then again, for many sportslovers, that is precisely the problem today — they have lost the capacity to appreciate history, to look at the larger picture, to go beyond the most recent stimuli and understand events in a historical perspective.
Worshippers of instant celebrity
Many of us, thanks to the influences of the age in which we live, have become worshippers of instant celebrity. The non-stop dross coming at us from all directions has forced us to wilfully conclude that today's success is the greatest success ever achieved, that today's seat-edge thriller is the greatest game ever played, that today's superstar is the greatest megastar of all times.
When our sporting culture has suffered this sort of corruption, when its essential core has been eroded by these giant new waves, it is hardly surprising that a great icon such as Tendulkar should himself become a victim in his own backyard.
The point is, Tendulkar never promised any of us a masterly century in every innings that he might get to play. We were the ones who set that impossible goal for the little man. That he has failed to meet that unrealistic goal is no sheen off his greatness; it merely throws light on our own foolishness.
At no point in his remarkable career did Tendulkar tell us that he was immortal; we turned him into a sort of superhuman phenomenon — where none exists in the known world — because we were perhaps ashamed of our own all too human limitations and wanted someone not-quite-like-us to look up to.
Never in the last 16 years that he has been dominating our sporting consciousness has Tendulkar ever hinted that he was invincible; we turned him into an invincible champion because we felt the need to bolster our own sense of everyday reality with something supernatural.
Harsh reality
The harsh reality of the capricious business of sport is this: every champion that has ever drawn breath, every champion as yet unborn, can be sure of one thing — some day, he will fail. The world of sport is yet to toast a truly invincible athlete.
But, then, in dealing with Tendulkar's failure — or any issue of this sort — it is very easy to find the answer we want; much, much more difficult to find the answer that matches the truth.
Of course, as passionate followers of the game, we are entitled to our own opinions. If some of us believe that the great man may not deserve a place in the team if he continues to fail, that's fair enough. Nobody owns a place in the Indian cricket team — not even Tendulkar.
But what is not fair — and will never be — is to stoop down to the sort of mindless pettiness that triggered the Mumbai booing on Sunday.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Let some die a thosand deaths...
And we talked we chattered we chirped in joy till bang it came that much dreaded expiry date. I was told “every good thing comes with an expiry date”. Eternal romantic in me refused to believe. I looked for new excuses to blatantly disobey these outlandish rules.
Smile came on that cruel face and as a child I had to fall in line and yeah had to be abused as well.
So I told myself I befriended this commodity very late in life, ah that expiry date!!!! I always associated that with those much stinking medicines and irony is today I stand victim to the same.
“What leaves you with heavy heart? ” They all ask and I smile, “Well nothing, I tell you”. I pretend and they buy my story. No hold on some one does not take me on face value, cruel world gauges the inner one.
I tell the person “You are too close to be duped”, I can not do that. “Wish I told you a lot earlier but ego is a shield which won’t bare us to each other”. The person shakes head and gives me that assassinating smile.
It pierces me and I am resigned to my fate. “Holy Bible, how untruthful you are!!!!!!”
“You said meek would inherit the earth”. “Truthful would call the shots”. Well, here is a fella awaiting a death of distrust.
“Take it away’ I scream, I am too coward to face it. But haunting voice asks same silly questions, can it be ignored.?. “Yeah It can be why not’ she says. “Hmm, no ignore it at your own peril” He declares. I am torn apart between seemingly all real and caring suggestions.
“Ah how I wish I don’t need a disclaimer attached to my life “all I can wail in pain as I wring my hurt emotions…………………………
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Being Revisited
And quivering shadow beckons comes sheepishly and sits next to me. I have seen it before but my memory fails me. And it asks in its baritone voice “So, How was it?” The element of sarcasm is irrepressible in its voice. I can spot it. I draw a long pause. How should fire it across. I know what it wants and what it means, but am I intrepid enough to accept it, emboldened to own it?
“Well” I reel off in a trembling unassuring tone, “I know you would come and ask me the same “. “No, I really care for you” It retorts. I can feel pangs of pain and I am on verge of breaking but I hold off gallantly, suppressing all those emotions which undid me in past.
“Ah, really my angel” I end up saying dryly, very sarcastically. It shows a concerned face but knows has been cornered for a while. It raises a hand as to object to me as if the professed sarcasm were blasphemous. I wave it away with disdain I have always reserved for Them. “How should I prove I am really concerned “It utters in a very cagey manner.
I look around; it’s pitch dark and all I can here few dogs whimpering down the next street.
No no wait I am glued to that strange undecipherable sound , have clutched to it yet all I can think its coming from the debris staring at my house up there. Not sure though.
Bad omen, really bad omen I feel. Only a Caesar can show contempt for such omens not me , I am not eager to embrace my maker now, I think and let a faint smile escape my lips.
An awkward silence grips us. I silently pray to God, “Let it be awkward, harsh reality would shear me, let me escape it once more”. Silhouette I see is in no such mood; it anticipates my prayer and smiles knowing God is mere mortal today.” So, would you open yourself” the eeriness is perceptible as It trails off. “But that was long ago, why it popped up again today, I could not bow to those whims and wishes, that insatiable desire for more of me drove me crazy” I heard myself telling him drawing all that fire I thought was quenched long ago, ah tonight I knew it kept on smoldering . “Weirdly trying to justify it “I am snubbed. “No, the culprit is that fleeting moment, which I can’t invoke now how hard, may I try” I make a pale attempt to philosophize. I offer him a cigarette. “But they said you don’t smoke” He queries me. “Yes, I don’t” I mumble. It’s to keep swine like you happy. Let you make some rings, give me precious moment to scurry for cover I am tempted to snap. “Thanks, I am sure it is not a sweetener” He says. “No, assault me I lie bare here” I have given up now. Predator is gauging its prey. I guess it is fiddling and masking its next move. Prey is trapped it knows, it is there for asking all at its mercy. Prey is asking for that coup de grace, awaiting the inevitable. Has ever a prey justified things to its predator, better wait and let It hasten my agony. Wistfully I want my maker to concur with me. Rings of desire being smoked in my face, I inhale it heartily and want to guess my tormentor’s next move. Our eyes meet, confrontation is imminent. It lowers its head and mutters under its breath. “Await the agony, anticipate it , it is fun this way” A cruel laugh reverberates my citadel.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Optimism smolders deep down somewhere
Glut of emotions flush me
And introspection hastens inevitable
Conscience is lurking behind
Truth to deep to fathom.
Gloomy smile covers up the scars
Jarring note in harmony of happiness
Stifling is this nostalgia
Deeper I dig, shallower I feel
Pretensions have wings
They take far away
From blurring footprints of time
Careening off to another fallacy
Blushing optimism winks at me
Gleam in her eyes not unnoticed
Rouge of truth eminent on her face.
She dispels that gloomy despair
Casting shadows of doubt washed away,
Mirage disappears, sunshine caresses me.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Dare me i cant be phony
Well many of my friends have mentioned that I write magnificently when I am on high. To be honest none of them are from my present college. This college is phony and but for my roomies and loomies they all have branded me one of those drunkards
So no point talking to them or taking their counsel. Honestly I don’t care for phony people . world is full of them . IIFT be one of them. There be few friends but let them be mine rather than a thousand pretending to be friend. Strange isn’t it I am writing such a thing which looks so outrageous but who cares. I have an exam to conquer and I feel after eight months I know this place well. An d am contemplating why I am made this way either I am friend or just another those of traitors who play along and by now I know whom to trust and whom to wave away with disdain. The biggest problem is I take pride in is I can see people through . and most of them are phony they cant be your friend .i miss my engineering college and as one of seniors whom I hold in high esteem said Ruchir man study well you are capable enough to do that and bloody MBAs? Don’t try to befriend them they All are bastards all would look for their advantage help them if you wish let me see how many come to your help when you are deep down in ditch. Well to be honest I can bank on few , me a fortunate one.,
They may say whatever they want, brand us most unwanted - most unforgiving ones. Am beyond caring, beyond being decoded...
365 days I shall forget most, Life goes in full circles.
And a year later I'll be celebrating my swan song; saying those good things that i REALLY DONT mean.
Hiuh world is so phony, I enact well as I have to go long and I don t want to rub people the wrong way. Long live brethren some time left before we kiss each other good bye……..
Dare me i cant be phony
Well many of my friends have mentioned that I write magnificently when I am on high. To be honest none of them are from my present college. This college is phony and but for my roomies and loomies they all have branded me one of those drunkards
So no point talking to them or taking their counsel. Honestly I don’t care for phony people . world is full of them . IIFT be one of them. There be few friends but let them be mine rather than a thousand pretending to be friend. Strange isn’t it I am writing such a thing which looks so outrageous but who cares. I have an exam to conquer and I feel after eight months I know this place well. An d am contemplating why I am made this way either I am friend or just another those of traitors who play along and by now I know whom to trust and whom to wave away with disdain. The biggest problem is I take pride in is I can see people through . and most of them are phony they cant be your friend .i miss my engineering college and as one of seniors whom I hold in high esteem said Ruchir man study well you are capable enough to do that and bloody MBAs? Don’t try to befriend them they All are bastards all would look for their advantage help them if you wish let me see how many come to your help when you are deep down in ditch. Well to be honest I can bank on few , me a fortunate one.,
So? I know what he said is right. It’s a professional place , am damn luck to get few friends and shouldn’t be greedy . I must confess, who would get so good friends .
Let them say whatever they want they may brand us most unwanted and most unforgiving ones. Am beyond these caring, those who cant shouldn’t try to decode me.
365 days to go and I may forget most of them . Life goes in full circles. so one year later even I would be celebrating my swan song and saying all those good things which I may not mean . Hiuh world is so phony and I enact well as I have to go long and I don t want to rub people wrong way. Long live brethren some time left before we kiss each other good bye……..
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Some Old Tragic Characters
Just continuing from where I left. Yeah I said I was going through an old poem. A poem call it rather poetry on Mahabharata . And he asks ‘Who is your favorite character?”. “Karna” I blurt out and he readily agrees.
My favorite two characters in world of History are Karna and Brutus. Pretty much similar they thought. Both good people who ended up on wrong side. Both wonderful people who were used and abused, but did they ever compromised on their dignity.
Both big idiots with capital I. if I have to write Mahabharata , I would never let a disguised Krishna beg for karna’s kavhca-Kundal , something which ensured Karna too joined ranks of mere mortals. Yes finally Karna could be cruelly killed.
And what about Brutus?? Someone who stabbed his own greatest friend . Brutus was Caesar’s great friend whether sentiments were returned by Caesar , I have my own doubts.
“Et tu , Brute”? yeah it makes Caesar a hero, who was dead not because Cassius and kaska’s instruments were very fine tuned but he died because he could not take a half hearted faint strike from dear friend Brutus. I feel connotation may be slightly different. Caesar was too ambitious to have many good friends around him, he was simply surprised too see a fool Brutus go against him, Brutus does not have courage and mind to go against me , he will back me against his conscience , a complacent Caesar must have thought. Brutus made a mess of it by allowing Mark Antony to make a heartrending speech. “Friends , Romans , Countrymen Lend me your ears, I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him”…….. and Destiny is sealed forever. Why on Brutus ever did that ? he knew that glib is forte of
But as has been said , Destiny is cruel and may be the genuinely meek will never inherit the earth. “O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,”
Nocturnal Musings
A good night in offing. There is one soul here who can cheer up everyone and i can connect most to him. People don't take him seriously and he does not hold any thing of responsibility here.The most talented lad around only if is slightly more visible(That's the destiny more for college than for him).We scour the whole place to read an old forgotten poem and beautiful poem shines up the park. Well a hindi poem for all anglophiles that may be a dampner. These days I find myself pretty serene and peaceful. Previously experienced stirrings are missing somehow. Well may be it has effect of not thinking too much about too many things. Why is it so, why it should not be done this way? Where is the thrill in doing it? It’s damn boring leave it. I am not sure whether it’s an escapist in me holding charge of most of my affairs, pretty lazy human being dodging all uncomfortable questions and unwilling to grind . Or may be a sharp mind wanting to optimize its effort and seeing through most of things and which gets bored if things are not exciting and challenging.. Or may be it’s a combination of all three.
A sudden gush of posers before me by someone at this unearthly hour, so it culminates in an unfinished dream. Escaping from
Sunday, January 21, 2007
A fulfilling day interwined with starry night
It’s almost 5 in the morning and I can dream with open eyes. Yeah I am back to life of insomniac. People have different reasons for insomnia. Some are plagued by worries, some fall prey to Venus’s charms, some get crumpled under old age and some simply don’t have refuge to take that appearing snooty nap. No, none of these reasons beguiles me yet I am sleepless in
I have run out of energy for a change. I am feeling high today (No it’s not alcohol, haven’t taken it for a while), I am happy because I feel spent after doing something worthwhile. To be candid, I must say I always felt my days at my office would be well spent. Hurly burly life I relished there for a while but lost interest once it got repetitive. Yeah I had a great boss and lovely teammates yet pangs of ennui just kept me grimacing.
And then IIFT beckoned. Yeah, I was in ever churning stable of managers. Future managers if you want to adorn it and make an arrogant manager a bit flamboyant.
Well I deliberated for quite some time before arriving at decision that MBA(IB) won’t hurt though suppressed desires wanted to settle for nothing less than numero uno . Hmm my one of the best friend’s residence, the very same college.
That much required serenity dawns on my room, my roommates are already off to meet their dream queens (in their dreams of course). I can clutch to every single movement made in this campus, every unheard sound is perceivable.
Languid elegance holed up somewhere in me lures me now and as an deferential child I am ready to agree to all her whims and wishes. Time to call it day, one of more fulfilling days.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Grammies are Strange....but gets redeemed in the end..
I wasn’t a fan of The Doors in my college days. Fan? Well I did not know who Jim Morrison was before I knew Coordinate Geometry. It was a quiz where it all boiled down to One poet and one writer whose eyes were trained on future ( yeah Poet was Blake and writer Aldous Huxley). And question which had to decide the winner was about a band inspired by one of Blake’s poems and Brave new World’s author. Lame me could not think of anything but “Tiger Tiger Burning bright” and it was curtains for us. But it wasn’t “the end”, the band fired my imagination and yeah that chilly December evening the doors of perception were cleansed somewhat.
So it all started in tears but irony is this band of four(Morrison, Ray Manzarek, Robby Krieger and John Densmore) from California brightened many a dull moment for me, and I remembered hushed advice from my friend “Careful dear while playing the original version of The End at your home , you know folks may not like it”.
Morrison was cryptic and controversial, a lethal mix if you want to be an overnight celebrity. Teeny Boppers all over the world fell and they do keep falling, yeah world over Howard Roark is a young woman’s first crush but then move over Roark screamed the media we have found ours in Jim Morrison. Yeah Teeny Boppers lapped him up. Be his accidental fall or profanity filled The End Mother mother I want to *&)(&)(&(. Yeah Morrison died at young age of 27 and eternal romance of ours with death made him a legend .Yeah tragedy always makes legends , Bradman won’t ve been the same if Hollies delivery was well read by run machine and that much sought 4 runs in last innings were duly completed. That’s life, what could have been excites us more than what has been.
Ah loved you gentlemen, and finally Grammy knows what a fool it had been not to be adorned on deserved heads, it’s too late to be blessed with a Grammy but Grammy redeems it self by Lighting fire of million of ‘The Doors’ fans, not all ‘The End’ are controversial and tragic, few can be sweet and pleasantly surprising too
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Trespassing the self
Few days are as serene as the one I am spending right now. After recharging my batteries for a couple of weeks, the world looks a changed place back here. Well these are still early days of what promises to be a stormy affair (the third trimester).
Beautiful cold creeps in, embracing you in a way you start craving for warmth more than ever before. But mercury may choose to dip, it soars my spirits. The early morning mist and dew caressing the feet (yeah I was forced to experience that twice this time around) are warmest experience I could ever have. And those leaves shimmering with dew who just waited for me to drop their blessings.
Sometimes it’s fun to be alone, marooned on a lonely island? Nah, I’ll prefer to be alone in deluge of humanity. It’s fun to be lost out some times. As of now even a room shared by 3 non stop loudspeakers wears a very tranquil look. Everyone absorbed in his own work, well that’s what life is. It’s so much hustle and bustle in this room, but golden silence dawns on us , that too with characters like Sid, Mickey and Ah me too around.
Yeah I said that’s life is all about. Sounds so cruel and yet so true, few years down the line that’s what life is supposed to be. Everyone busy is his/her own world, when everyone would long for the moments passed by.
Expectations?? Hah the biggest dampner surging emotions can handle. Tempers were sent flaring when they weren’t met and heartaches followed, sounds so somber, each smiling face has thousands stories to tell and few keep haunting as it did back one chilly evening of gone December. The world feels I am mature and I make a fool out of me by letting child in me come to fore.
Oh some moments are fleeting. Serenity is still here, but usual suspects are back (all mentioned above) are back and yeah another fruitful discussion in offing.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
When Sergei Met Larry
No it’s not a movie name, however captivating the title may look. It’s a story of two folks who had conviction of attaining the sky and they did it. Saga of unwavering young men who achieved what they wanted against all those heavily stacked odds.
I have fallen in love over and over, again and again with Sergei Brin and Larry Page. Don’t doubt my orientations chap, but who won’t love two fellas who have changed the way internet has been used world wide. We mere mortals invoked God to show his powers to let Internet be a better place to be browsed. Let sanity prevail , we wailed inconsolably and Lo God sent two angels and said “Heal thy programs son, with these two around information is so much fun” Could I ever agree more with God.
They started from scratch, they were no fortunate son, had no silver spoon in mouth. Well all they had mathematical brilliance and yeah that was very much in their chromosomes. They were two cocky young men who believed they could take on the world by its proverbial horns and do what few had dared dreaming. Demotivators were aplenty, but kudos to young men they knew all novel plans look ludicrous and all dooms day prophecy means nothing , they ought to be there a good luck charm for all those brilliant things which may change the attitude of mankind.
So the baby was born and was named “Google” aptly (Googol was the word but legends say misspelling ensured it was popularized as google). Google and his siblings (gmail,blogspot, orkut,youtube,picasa etc) have taken the cyber world by storm. At this very moment I am googling and perhaps the painstaking search is the most relished one for me. Day in day out google is the single most hit site it has to be with curious ones making a bee line to get their queries answered.
For me google has been manna from heaven and so it has been for rest of my ilk. A project in college needs some help? Ah Google is there to rescue. Those much hated codes and some strange exceptions thrown in my face, now what to do? Never worry go to Google’s asylum . and much loved hobbies were fuelled by Google as well. I loved quizzing, reading novels and all that useless things and Google abetted in all these crimes.
And now Google has an extended family so many siblings are there and like big brother they all are much in demand. Blogspot, orkut, gmail, youtube umm all have their devoted fans and like million of them I am one.
The moment we thought Google can’t expand any more , they spring up new surprises, yeah few have faded like google earth and desktop but saga continues, what’s next in store two gentlemen need to be asked, till enjoy googling, orkutting or blogging as I relish another great day with google and its family.
Ps: needed to write this one as I am indebted to google like few others would be. My last three successful interviews all posed questions on Google and I passionately came for Google and well they helped my cause. Ah how I wish one day I may end up at Googleplex , if not who cares will keep googling till I die…..
Not all friendship mere feigning
Well all men are born equal, but some men (women included) are more equal than others if not somewhere else certainly in eyes of me. Those who claim to treat everyone the entire same, well must be getting very nice and politically correct, I am not the one nor do I want to be one. I can never treat every one in same way, huh learnt it hard way.
Last two seasons have seasoned me more than any two. Ran into some pleasant surprises this winter. Met couple of old mates pretty surprising to meet such fellas when you don’t know will you ever meet them? True friends are almost impossible to get and with people entangled in rigmaroles life, it becomes even more difficult. With daal roti in question we all have few options I guess. But then who said good friends required to be talked to every alternate day, that is the beauty of having great friends you meet them after many winters and yet it all seems so perfect in place. Nah very few can lay claim to that rite? But those few who do make life special, are the ones for all life I strongly believe after a certain age it’s very difficult to make true friends, friends whom you can say every thing. Whom you skin and take it in stride when they return the favors. It’s very difficult to maintain same level of informality and attachment after a certain age I guess. We all learn art of pretensions day in day out and that fades any relationship, friendship included. Yeah there are few sweet exceptions, who may shine up the park after dullness sets in and pretension rules adult minds after certain time.But they are as rare as Dodos.
I am very impetus in dealing with friends or sometimes too lazy but I have never learnt to strike it right. Friendship is not about weathering the testing time alone, that’s one of them. It’s about knowing things without even a need to put them in words. Gauging you without even asking you. I ‘ll be termed a crazy I know , sounds so unrealistic seems to be wandering around in a chimerical world. Let it be who cares as longs as you have some true blue chaps. Formality is the biggest contempt a true friendship can ever face. “No hard feelings” or “Sorry” for true friends , I was almost killed for asking something personal and following it up with a something stupid like sorry. Don’t need to be sorry chap that’s your right to know isn’t it? True chap!!! Every formality is like a nail in friendship coffin.
It’s all about VVS (very very special) friends, which one is fortunate to make. Let the world grow more of such breed, for rest “I am sorry”. (My stock word for New Year, a word of restrain and to be politically correct to rest of humans, some love it, some lap it and if not who cares?? ) would still do.
Last two seasons have seasoned me more than any two. Ran into some pleasant surprises this winter. Met couple of old mates pretty surprising to meet such fellas when you don’t know will you ever meet them? True friends are almost impossible to get and with people entangled in rigmaroles life, it becomes even more difficult. With daal roti in question we all have few options I guess. But then who said good friends required to be talked to every alternate day, that is the beauty of having great friends you meet them after many winters and yet it all seems so perfect in place. Nah very few can lay claim to that rite? But those few who do make life special, are the ones for all life I strongly believe after a certain age it’s very difficult to make true friends, friends whom you can say every thing. Whom you skin and take it in stride when they return the favors. It’s very difficult to maintain same level of informality and attachment after a certain age I guess. We all learn art of pretensions day in day out and that fades any relationship, friendship included. Yeah there are few sweet exceptions, who may shine up the park after dullness sets in and pretension rules adult minds after certain time.But they are as rare as Dodos.
I am very impetus in dealing with friends or sometimes too lazy but I have never learnt to strike it right. Friendship is not about weathering the testing time alone, that’s one of them. It’s about knowing things without even a need to put them in words. Gauging you without even asking you. I ‘ll be termed a crazy I know , sounds so unrealistic seems to be wandering around in a chimerical world. Let it be who cares as longs as you have some true blue chaps. Formality is the biggest contempt a true friendship can ever face. “No hard feelings” or “Sorry” for true friends , I was almost killed for asking something personal and following it up with a something stupid like sorry. Don’t need to be sorry chap that’s your right to know isn’t it? True chap!!! Every formality is like a nail in friendship coffin.
It’s all about VVS (very very special) friends, which one is fortunate to make. Let the world grow more of such breed, for rest “I am sorry”. (My stock word for New Year, a word of restrain and to be politically correct to rest of humans, some love it, some lap it and if not who cares?? ) would still do.
Bidding you adieu dear piracy!
The monster of piracy seemed to be invincible, humble plea by cine artists, putting more prints of new movies trying their luck at box office and so called stringent laws trying to rein in the monster couldn’t bear any fruit. Like those fairy tale stories where the life of the invincible monster lay somewhere else here too this monster prospered as no one was able to hit it where it hurts the most, the price. Yeah Indians may be moral but they are price sensitive as well, so they won’t mind dabbling into much scorned world of pirated CDs and DVDs, economic reasons score more than any latent morality that we may be nurturing yet..
Enter Moser Baer, last week an announcement from their stable has meant that days of our seemingly invincible and immortal monster are numbered. Eventually Moser Baer has decided to dabble in much sought after domestic entertainment market and death bells have started to ring for the mean giant of piracy.
Domestic home entertainment market (VCDs and DVDs ) is estimated at Rs 500 crore.
There are 26 million VCD/DVD players in India, but most of them are owned by extremely price sensitive middle class Indians. Remember your economics classes; price elasticity is more for these Indians. The domestic entertainment market is growing at about 25 percent annually. But as expected the chunk of profit is guzzled by undeserving messiahs of piracy and the one , the creator of the art have to be satisfied with what ever pittance they can lay their hands on.
As mentioned again and again the biggest hindrance to growth has been the consumers and the price sensitivity displayed by them. Yeah everything comes with a price tag and it goes like
VCD- sold in market for anything between Rs 35 – Rs 200.come to the shady place and you get it for Rs 15-50. Which one you take home??
DVD—Market asks you to shell out Rs 400 before you pocket one home, want a Naqli one well let your wallet part with a turquoise 100 note. Your take on that??
So when they talk of you are killing someone’s baby by nurturing piracy falls on deaf years. Moser Baer turns it all in their favor. How? By selling VCDs for Rs 28 and DVDs for Rs 34. So where lies the price advantage now ??
They (Moser Baer) are Investing 500 crore in this business over next few years
They are planning to acquire rights to over 7000 movies.. Surely a large number of them will be from catalogue (not the recent ones but older movies). So what?? There is still a sizeable demand for such movies by consumers.
How on earth Moser Baer would be able to roll out CDs and DVDs at throwaway price. At their own expense?? Are they doing any charity? Nah. It’s all feasible because of propriety technology. Physical infrastructure to copy content on large scale is already in place , so once they have their hands on a legally acquired CD, they would happily make enough copies to get prices cut down to ridiculously low levels , making you and me happy and ah helping some one with the slow death it very much needed.
How about distribution, always a disturbing proposition. You may be scoring high on production scales but how would you ensure benefits are reaped by you dear customers. Well Moser Baer already reaches audio .and video software store which sells its blank CDs/DVDs, so distribution won’t be a problem for our hero on a mission.
For film makers too it makes sense to sell rights to Moser Baer as market will expand rapidly. And this is not all however hunky dory it may appear to be. It also plans to set up 300 stores nationwide...Now that’s sure an unbeatable plan to script the denouement for the villain whose life was caged in a needle only our hero could break.
Enter Moser Baer, last week an announcement from their stable has meant that days of our seemingly invincible and immortal monster are numbered. Eventually Moser Baer has decided to dabble in much sought after domestic entertainment market and death bells have started to ring for the mean giant of piracy.
Domestic home entertainment market (VCDs and DVDs ) is estimated at Rs 500 crore.
There are 26 million VCD/DVD players in India, but most of them are owned by extremely price sensitive middle class Indians. Remember your economics classes; price elasticity is more for these Indians. The domestic entertainment market is growing at about 25 percent annually. But as expected the chunk of profit is guzzled by undeserving messiahs of piracy and the one , the creator of the art have to be satisfied with what ever pittance they can lay their hands on.
As mentioned again and again the biggest hindrance to growth has been the consumers and the price sensitivity displayed by them. Yeah everything comes with a price tag and it goes like
VCD- sold in market for anything between Rs 35 – Rs 200.come to the shady place and you get it for Rs 15-50. Which one you take home??
DVD—Market asks you to shell out Rs 400 before you pocket one home, want a Naqli one well let your wallet part with a turquoise 100 note. Your take on that??
So when they talk of you are killing someone’s baby by nurturing piracy falls on deaf years. Moser Baer turns it all in their favor. How? By selling VCDs for Rs 28 and DVDs for Rs 34. So where lies the price advantage now ??
They (Moser Baer) are Investing 500 crore in this business over next few years
They are planning to acquire rights to over 7000 movies.. Surely a large number of them will be from catalogue (not the recent ones but older movies). So what?? There is still a sizeable demand for such movies by consumers.
How on earth Moser Baer would be able to roll out CDs and DVDs at throwaway price. At their own expense?? Are they doing any charity? Nah. It’s all feasible because of propriety technology. Physical infrastructure to copy content on large scale is already in place , so once they have their hands on a legally acquired CD, they would happily make enough copies to get prices cut down to ridiculously low levels , making you and me happy and ah helping some one with the slow death it very much needed.
How about distribution, always a disturbing proposition. You may be scoring high on production scales but how would you ensure benefits are reaped by you dear customers. Well Moser Baer already reaches audio .and video software store which sells its blank CDs/DVDs, so distribution won’t be a problem for our hero on a mission.
For film makers too it makes sense to sell rights to Moser Baer as market will expand rapidly. And this is not all however hunky dory it may appear to be. It also plans to set up 300 stores nationwide...Now that’s sure an unbeatable plan to script the denouement for the villain whose life was caged in a needle only our hero could break.
New year resoutions and me??
They say resolutions are meant to be broken, a fickle minded me never keeps resolutions anyway. Earlier I used to take resolutions and however steadfast I may try to be, it used to crumble by second week of New Year. Now I don’t take any or you may say I take a resolution of not taking any, and somehow manage to keep it unblemished every year.
Well why does one await arrival of New Year to impose some harsh decisions on himself/herself. This is the truth a resolution sounds very solemn and I don’t foresee any resolution being taken with a jolly good face. Well an economist would say leave short term gain aside and think of long term gains ahem then may be yeah may be a New resolution may be salvaging all pain and mourning it takes to sustain one through out the year.
But to take a resolution first of all hair splitter in you should take charge, nah nah don’t want to leave with few on crown. It’s all about dissatisfaction with yourself that would lead to a new year resolution. If I am ok with myself and don’t see any modification in me bringing any good to me, why on earth there should be grave sounding vow. Do I need to change?? Really? Anything that stifles me, any habit which leaves me stymied or suppresses my upward growth. Anything which puts others in unnecessary bother, hmm harder I think more I start falling in love with me. Jokes apart, if ever a resolution is needed to be taken I’ll take but at this stage of my life, I guess zilch is the answer.
So that’s for me 1st January won’t ring any alarming bells for me, but let me think of some names and kind of new year resolutions they may take (ah preachers good at preaching pathetic at practisizing them, well very true )
Few names have to be coded, if they are good at clutching to subtle hints let them know.
Mr Manmohan Singh: a good man at wrong place. Sir either vacate that much sought after seat or let take your conscience take charge of you rather than you know who.
Mr George Bush: We all can live with or without certain Laden but stop your policing act. Let world be a beautiful place, we all are smart enough to look after sir, stop worrying for the world and think more of Yankees, yeah with 2 terms already in pocket you may beg to differ…
Mr Salman Rushdie: Let there be more content in king sized packet of yours. One of few names which have over lived their shelf lives. Stop deriding others and write more rather than to be seen at some P3 functions with much prized wife in arms.
Mr Anu Malik: Let the world know that you can perspire and without any inspiration too you can be laughing all the way to music charts.
Mr SRK: Need one for you?? Even if there is a suggestion from humble quarters , you would scorn at them and would disdainfully keep them aside with wave of hand. How about taking sheen off your boasting of being the best…
Mr SRT: take a vow, you ‘ll ve final hurrah what if you misfired at Jo’berg let Bridgetown be cherished one for us, nothing less than a world cup for you. And 1.2 billion Indians …
Time for few, living in closer quarters or who ever were close by.
AKJ: a good fella, leave cigarettes aside and how about reducing frequency of lame excuses? Enjoy France more.
KS: hmm some people would never listen to me and they are better off that way.
Sunshine boys (roomies/loomies); huh imperfection can’t be perfected be the way you are…who likes perfection , you all are imperfect just like rest of the ilk and are loved the way you are.. Perfection brings yawn to me
Few names I chose to ignore, I wish I could have something to say about them but then I cant impose suggestions on them, some are too tender (with a tag”Fragile/handle with care”) , I wish they are more assertive, live life , start worrying less about others and how would they react to blah blah and you people would be just fine. Start showing displeasure if you are miffed how world would know?? A genuine frown face appeals to me more than a fake laughter…
New year beckons and there is hardly anything new to be offered or accepted.
Life moves in circles and I wish I would keep living life as if it has to be my last day …
I pray to god that near and dear ones keep killing me with the forthrightness they have shown and don’t be like candy sweet ones who like my back more than my chest…Dig your sharp teeth deep into my chest friends, (eh my back is too frail for your kindness in form of canine offerings), I love you that way…..
PS: still if I am forced to take a resolution at a gun point it will be “ I wont’ let people walk all over me and yeah would start caring less for others, some start taking it as your having enough time to dispose , and it reduces you to shambles for certain people.”
Well why does one await arrival of New Year to impose some harsh decisions on himself/herself. This is the truth a resolution sounds very solemn and I don’t foresee any resolution being taken with a jolly good face. Well an economist would say leave short term gain aside and think of long term gains ahem then may be yeah may be a New resolution may be salvaging all pain and mourning it takes to sustain one through out the year.
But to take a resolution first of all hair splitter in you should take charge, nah nah don’t want to leave with few on crown. It’s all about dissatisfaction with yourself that would lead to a new year resolution. If I am ok with myself and don’t see any modification in me bringing any good to me, why on earth there should be grave sounding vow. Do I need to change?? Really? Anything that stifles me, any habit which leaves me stymied or suppresses my upward growth. Anything which puts others in unnecessary bother, hmm harder I think more I start falling in love with me. Jokes apart, if ever a resolution is needed to be taken I’ll take but at this stage of my life, I guess zilch is the answer.
So that’s for me 1st January won’t ring any alarming bells for me, but let me think of some names and kind of new year resolutions they may take (ah preachers good at preaching pathetic at practisizing them, well very true )
Few names have to be coded, if they are good at clutching to subtle hints let them know.
Mr Manmohan Singh: a good man at wrong place. Sir either vacate that much sought after seat or let take your conscience take charge of you rather than you know who.
Mr George Bush: We all can live with or without certain Laden but stop your policing act. Let world be a beautiful place, we all are smart enough to look after sir, stop worrying for the world and think more of Yankees, yeah with 2 terms already in pocket you may beg to differ…
Mr Salman Rushdie: Let there be more content in king sized packet of yours. One of few names which have over lived their shelf lives. Stop deriding others and write more rather than to be seen at some P3 functions with much prized wife in arms.
Mr Anu Malik: Let the world know that you can perspire and without any inspiration too you can be laughing all the way to music charts.
Mr SRK: Need one for you?? Even if there is a suggestion from humble quarters , you would scorn at them and would disdainfully keep them aside with wave of hand. How about taking sheen off your boasting of being the best…
Mr SRT: take a vow, you ‘ll ve final hurrah what if you misfired at Jo’berg let Bridgetown be cherished one for us, nothing less than a world cup for you. And 1.2 billion Indians …
Time for few, living in closer quarters or who ever were close by.
AKJ: a good fella, leave cigarettes aside and how about reducing frequency of lame excuses? Enjoy France more.
KS: hmm some people would never listen to me and they are better off that way.
Sunshine boys (roomies/loomies); huh imperfection can’t be perfected be the way you are…who likes perfection , you all are imperfect just like rest of the ilk and are loved the way you are.. Perfection brings yawn to me
Few names I chose to ignore, I wish I could have something to say about them but then I cant impose suggestions on them, some are too tender (with a tag”Fragile/handle with care”) , I wish they are more assertive, live life , start worrying less about others and how would they react to blah blah and you people would be just fine. Start showing displeasure if you are miffed how world would know?? A genuine frown face appeals to me more than a fake laughter…
New year beckons and there is hardly anything new to be offered or accepted.
Life moves in circles and I wish I would keep living life as if it has to be my last day …
I pray to god that near and dear ones keep killing me with the forthrightness they have shown and don’t be like candy sweet ones who like my back more than my chest…Dig your sharp teeth deep into my chest friends, (eh my back is too frail for your kindness in form of canine offerings), I love you that way…..
PS: still if I am forced to take a resolution at a gun point it will be “ I wont’ let people walk all over me and yeah would start caring less for others, some start taking it as your having enough time to dispose , and it reduces you to shambles for certain people.”
A genial italian
I hate Italians from the core of my heart. And when I do start falling in love with them, they end up doing some Materazzish things to my idols and this developing Italian honeymoon is nipped in the bud.
But to every prevailing rule there has to be an exception, and few exceptions come as royally as Fabio Cannavaro . A genial defender for Azury. did I say genial??, a genial Italian and that too a defender, aren’t Italians defenders supposed to be mean, baying for your blood if you happen to be rival forward venturing into the much prohibited goal arena waltzing your way through, weaning away to look for that much denied goal and ah suddenly brought down by one of those mean somber sinister eyed men in blue. I know a genial Italian defender is a double oxymoron (ah I just invented a word courtesy Italians), but then if someone could grab that flattering tag it has to Fabio, the skipper of Italian hopes who proved rule of 12 –24 continues for Italians(Italian made it to the finals of 1970 and 1994 world cup where they find samba dancers in yellow-greens too hot to handle and in 1982 and 2006 they were crowned winners at the expense of Germans and French – so we all superstitious people know Italians are very much in chance after 2 WC fiascos, don’t expect much of them at south africa-2010 and 2014.They ll be back in hunt in 2018 if this numerology has to be believed )
Fabio failed to win golden ball in Germany, blame it on that French sorcerer who decided world has to know that even fast paced and seemingly rough game of soccer can mesmerize you as long as maestro was in mood for ballerina. For every equally brilliant but rogue Deco/Ruyben (remember Portugal pitted against Holland and referee’s suddenly realizing red is the best known color to him), there has to be a maestro to bring sanity to game. Maestro took some sheen off neat work Fabio displayed throughout a world cup known for bellicose defenders who managed to escape red card happy hawk eyed referees. But Fabio was an exception, I don’t remember a single tackle of his which could have been deemed illegal, what he did was neat, very much acceptable in football parlance and yet bravo few (if any) could head their way past him. Klose who laid Argentina low other day, learnt it hard way, mate Fabio aint no Ayala , unbreachable wall he is, be content to play it for while but never even think of shooting it past keeper of our fortunes Buffoon he must have been told in no uncertain terms. “Ah sending it past Buffoon, mate let him at least collect the ball for a while, I m finding it difficult to send it to him” must have been Klose’ retort if he was witty enough.
It was good to see therefore Fabio collecting Europe’s best footballer award and aha icing on that creamy cake was “FIFA footballer of the year” award last week. Fabio deserves his place under the sun; let him soak it up, he warrants all accolades showered on him. After all not all Italians are sinister eyed mean men and some of them can be genial though blocking ways of many of your favorites (Klose, Crespo, Rooney, Polski ,Henry whoever they are..) and ah rare breed of theirs which gets rarer every day may has some titans among them who may pose with that beautiful award in hand chortling for all those hungry camera clicking photographers .
We are getting funnier.. so say our ads
There was always this complaint against an average Indian, he doesn’t laugh at himself, he takes himself too seriously and in process lets go so many opportunities to laugh/giggle. No more if the movies and ads of year whizzing past us have any thing to say.
Traditional cola war in advertising was muted this year. Blame it on pesticide issue. Rather than locking horns over which cola is best to be guzzled down your not so thirsty throat, Pepsi and Coke were ‘Brothers in arms”.
If Pepsi showed its concerned CEO India Rajiv Bakshi taking rounds of Pepsi factories then coke used Aamir Khan assuring people coke is worth them and fully healthy drink to gulp.”Hey I do keep guzzling down joshila drink , why not you” Aamir was persuading us ,
Traditinally MNCs tried to make their ads look as local as possible but tables were turned this time around with Indian company ads adopted the “think global, look local” philosophy.
Be it Tata in cars , Bajaj with their bikes or Raymond with their classy suits (“feels like heaven, feels like Raymond”, thankfully saved us from so arrogant “Raymond-the complete man”) , they all looked more global this year.
Ah how can we forget seemingly boring financial sector. Ever thought an ad for financial services to tickle the funny bone in you??, nah?? think twice before you leap to any preposterous conclusion, here we are --
Ogilvy and Mather’s (O&M) innovative and funny ads for SBI
So be it insurance or credit cards humor ruled the roost. Remember a poor husband peparing papads because he did not buy his wife’s statement “SBI has maximum no. of ATMs nationwide” and as usual loses to her.
Bank of Baroda banking on Mr. dependable did quite a good business. And so did Max life insurance because it’s always good to have “cover” in life, you don’t where the next bouncer is coming from.
Year also saw return of few old ad icons. Javed Jaffery -- Maggi “it’s different”. I was broght up on those humorous “it’s different ad” which saw Pankaj Kapoor and Javed Jaffery winning our hearts over and over again. And Hutch may be hot cake right now with Vodafone and Anil Ambani eyeing for lion’s share in the company , but it was so nice to see our lovely pug back.
And how can one forget ad of the year “Happydent chewing gum”. “Tera man roshan, tera dil roshan” struck the right chords, wowed laymen and ad gurus alike, and won acclamation. Prasoon Joshi’s conviction “Think in Hindi”, kept the tally going for McCann Erickson and we were the last one to complain.
Outdoor and Radio are supposed to be revolutionary ones in coming year. Hopefully 2007 fetches some more glory to Indian ad world, we are looking forward to 2007 with much sanguinity.
Traditional cola war in advertising was muted this year. Blame it on pesticide issue. Rather than locking horns over which cola is best to be guzzled down your not so thirsty throat, Pepsi and Coke were ‘Brothers in arms”.
If Pepsi showed its concerned CEO India Rajiv Bakshi taking rounds of Pepsi factories then coke used Aamir Khan assuring people coke is worth them and fully healthy drink to gulp.”Hey I do keep guzzling down joshila drink , why not you” Aamir was persuading us ,
Traditinally MNCs tried to make their ads look as local as possible but tables were turned this time around with Indian company ads adopted the “think global, look local” philosophy.
Be it Tata in cars , Bajaj with their bikes or Raymond with their classy suits (“feels like heaven, feels like Raymond”, thankfully saved us from so arrogant “Raymond-the complete man”) , they all looked more global this year.
Ah how can we forget seemingly boring financial sector. Ever thought an ad for financial services to tickle the funny bone in you??, nah?? think twice before you leap to any preposterous conclusion, here we are --
Ogilvy and Mather’s (O&M) innovative and funny ads for SBI
So be it insurance or credit cards humor ruled the roost. Remember a poor husband peparing papads because he did not buy his wife’s statement “SBI has maximum no. of ATMs nationwide” and as usual loses to her.
Bank of Baroda banking on Mr. dependable did quite a good business. And so did Max life insurance because it’s always good to have “cover” in life, you don’t where the next bouncer is coming from.
Year also saw return of few old ad icons. Javed Jaffery -- Maggi “it’s different”. I was broght up on those humorous “it’s different ad” which saw Pankaj Kapoor and Javed Jaffery winning our hearts over and over again. And Hutch may be hot cake right now with Vodafone and Anil Ambani eyeing for lion’s share in the company , but it was so nice to see our lovely pug back.
And how can one forget ad of the year “Happydent chewing gum”. “Tera man roshan, tera dil roshan” struck the right chords, wowed laymen and ad gurus alike, and won acclamation. Prasoon Joshi’s conviction “Think in Hindi”, kept the tally going for McCann Erickson and we were the last one to complain.
Outdoor and Radio are supposed to be revolutionary ones in coming year. Hopefully 2007 fetches some more glory to Indian ad world, we are looking forward to 2007 with much sanguinity.
All speed and no thrill, a sleepfest in all senses
Well before letting the world know what I think of this movie; let the clock be turned back umm for few months. It was month of June (year 2006), world cup soccer was very much in air, I had already put in my papers and was going to Delhi to pursue higher studies. And what a fun it was to be relaxed and catch every single minute of soccer. I inflicted this soccer fever on couple of girls in my office as well (well that was a real credit to let em glued to a manly game). Yeah did I mention the only thing that Idiot box had to offer (accepted by me) was a spoof on a speed rage called ‘Dhoom’. That was pure fun, looked idiotic at times but it was fun alright when you awaited your heroes in sky blue and white stripes to announce the beginning of real show.
Must have confused everyone eh!! What the few lines meant was that funny spoof was much more interesting, the sequel was a sleepfest, where an Adonis tried to revitalize things again and again and failed miserably at that.
We started in an African desert with our Adonis stealing the thunder (and a crown) under the nose of watertight security and exhibits a pompous walk and all of sudden breaks into a jig.
If that was not enough we had an Ice maiden who suddenly realizes she is still young, svelte, and umm may be sizzling. All her antics fall flat on the audience. A Mallika may have fitted in a bahu’s role in Ekta’s run of mills, but I couldn’t gobble the fact of an Aish trying to raise temperatures by few notches and explicably she failed at that.
Rest of cast was wasted on expected lines. A man whose only claim is to be famous director’s son and may be a Kapil Devish toothy grin ,did what he does best, boring audience to death and let them believe movie cant go any worse. Famous superstar’s(AB) baby looked lifeless and love interest of current sizzling macho (Bipasha)failed to crackle.
Our Adonis tried the very bandana sported by Johnny Depp in avatar of Pirate in a desperate effort to get some of charm rubbed off on him, desolately we expected the charm but it was conspicuous by its absence. Nor our so called svelte Ice maiden in new hot avatar looked anywhere close to Keira.
Actors were going through motion ahem with a slight spring in their steps (it was a movie about speed you see) and I started waltzing in dreamland (yeah I dozed off) by the time Brazil beckoned.
Finally the sentence was over and we were back roaming in the real world. Ouch I almost rubbished a movie, cant help when you are made to cough up a premium expecting champagne and what you get is cheap spirit sans fizz, anger and irritation is very much palpable
Ps: A Liplock generated a lot of controversy, may be a PR stunt by movie producers. The whole world was interested in intertwining of lips between Adonis and Ice maiden except the family of young angry man of yesteryears. His baby (AB’s baby) cried foul, take it in stride mate! As if you would have whined had you been in Adonis’s shoes. And did I mention Adonis’s real life wife gave pats to hubby dearest for a wonderful effort, she described it as the best his hubby could have ever performed. Ouch Rehaan(youngest one in Adonis’s family) are we suspecting your genes boy!!! Never mind it was tongue in cheek comment, I just wanted to take a sweet and below the belt revenge……
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