I try to say a lot while saying very little. Get used to it.
Posts tagged felt
sachinism, the current religion of the indi-net
Feb 24th
Stuff that struck me while reading about Sachin Tendulkar’s nearly unbelievable* feat, most of which will be repeated everywhere I look over the next few days/weeks:
- On this day 21 years ago He completed a 664-run partnership with Kambli. Twenty-f*ckin-one.
- His 200 contained 25 boundaries (the most by a single batsman in an ODI till date) and 3 sixes. The entire RSA team innings (in reply) had 30 boundaries and 3 sixes.
- He has scored 93 international centuries (combining test and ODI cricket) until today. There was a time when He decimated an Australian team for a whole summer (yes, the great Sharjah innings), which was when I started believing that He would score over a 100 centuries before He retired. That day is nigh.
- His closest competitors today (in terms of statistics) have to currently make
- Tests: 1588 runs to catch up His total of 13447, 8 centuries to catch up His total of 47.
- ODIs: 4170 runs to catch up with 17598, 17 centuries to catch up with 46.
- He made an impeccable, near-perfect 175 while chasing Australia in Hyderabad last year.. only to have the Indian team let Him down and choke once He was out. I remember defending him when people said that the innings was typical Tendulkar – the century was great, but no use if He never finishes what He starts. I wonder if.. somehow.. RSA had successfully chased 400 (they’ve done it before), how sweet would this 200 be for the ungrateful Indian cricket fan?
- The fact that He does not make the ICC list of the best players of all-time in either Tests or ODIs has to now rank as one of the biggest egg-on-your-face (or idiotic) statements until date for the ICC. For a man who is redefining every batting record there is every time He takes guard, a man who has surpassed His contemporaries in both longevity and performance… I guess He doesn’t need the ranking to make His mark in cricket history.
I ask you, does He really have to worry about never lifting a World Cup on India’s behalf? Can we quit wondering aloud about His performance every time He doesn’t make a century?
Will we ever get over Him?
Side note: I noticed that the statistically top batsmen who are still playing cricket today are all 34+ (age in brackets): Jayasuriya (40), Ponting (35), Tendulkar (37), Gibbs (36), Kallis (34). This is to be expected, given the amount of cricket these people have played in their lifetime… but it appears the old guard is never going to make way for a new one.
*I say “nearly unbelievable”, because it is Sachin after all. One can believe that He can pull it off.**
**Yes, the capitalization of ‘H’ is intentional. God, after all.
my event of a lifetime
Feb 8th
It’s been too, too long.
Wish I had a good excuse.
Maybe this one: “Marriage does that to you.” Or even: “Things change like this after marriage.”
At the very least, marriage gives you a scapegoat that most married men will commiserate with. “Yes, yes.. I know what you mean.” Its either commiseration or a devilish satisfaction (as I saw on more than one recently married face that was turned to greet me). “Yes, yes… now you shall know what I mean! Muahahahahaha!”
I have enough things to write about that I might be able to post more often. However, the future looms close with promise of having to wait on the Mrs hand-and-foot.. so no promises.
certain beauty to see people turn up out of nowhere to get the job done. Accommodation, food, transport, luggage.. a virtual well-oiled machine cannot be a better description. Even before I could think, “What about this?”, it was already being prepared for and underway. I only wish I could appreciate such people more.
Tying the knot around her neck (‘thirumangalya dharanam‘) really felt like the culmination of a long, long journey. I could reminisce here about the first time of the many things that make up a relationship, and so on and on… but those are details that shall remain shrouded in the mists of time. The Mrs was looking like a dream at that point – one I won’t forget – the feeling of first taking her hands in mine and then being guided to tie the knot suddenly made me realize the responsibility I was so naturally able to take in my hands. As I attempted to make hazy sense of ancient Sanskrit during the ‘saptapathi‘, (something struck me about the part of only holding hands with each other until the ‘saptapathi‘ was completed), so many thoughts, feelings and words were jumbling up inside me… its hard to elucidate. There was elation, there was some part of me that wanted to yell out to each one present what I was doing… there was also some vague realization of how there were so many people there – all so happy to see me (and her) go to this next phase of our lives… there were memories of days past, there were flashes of what might happen in days to come.
But hey, she just becomes a Mrs. missus my big event of the year is nearly here
Jan 8th
The time has come.
Back to India.
Madness. All centered around me. And the missus. But me too!
There will probably be no posts for a bit here. I’m not live-blogging my own wedding, or even live-tweeting my honeymoon 
Speaking of which, that is probably going to be the best birthday ever 
It has taken its time to sink in, people have been asking me ‘How do you feel about you getting married?’ for weeks now.. and I haven’t really had an answer. Half the “wedding feeling” is in the atmosphere around you. Yes, I have great friends and a great missus who are all insanely excited about what is going to happen… but its not quite the same, is it? Having 20 billion people around you (or at least what feels like 20 billion people) all abuzz, all running around, ragging, laughing, managing, noise, shouting – this is what really makes that feeling really hit you.
A little bit of that feeling is striking me now. I’m not sure if it is my usual trip-anticipation jitters, but it does feel different somehow. Feels like a lot of preparation is coming together at long last. A big huge deal is about to happen, and I’m right in the center of it all. I want to hug myself and hold onto all the anticipation, save it for the big day.
The missus becomes more than just fiancée. She already is, but will now more officially be an SWMBO. I wonder how much she will like me as her PWOM (inverse of SWMBO).
I can’t wait.
alma mater
Jul 29th
Looking out the window, I recognized familiar landmarks. The things you see every day, that become part of a routine; and then one day you see them no more. I was dropped at the corner as I had been all those years ago. I started a walk I had done every day for nearly 4 years. The rubbish dump on one side was still just that – a dump. The other had transformed into an upscale building. I craned my neck to try and see any changes down the road – the eventual destination. I could see some new signs, the rest was obscured by the trees – the trees still remained there. A couple of raindrops fell. And for a minute I was a 12 year old treading carefully around puddles, and heading towards school.
Flashforward. I was here. I stood at the gates, gates that had seemed imposing once. The school building looked about the same, the hall.. everything. Some things had changed. The few shops near school seemed to have improved from their once tiny appearance. St. Andrews College opposite seemed to have cleaned up a bit too. I remember warnings from school teachers about how we had to be “careful” – college students were wild people who smoked, drank and were not good company to have. They obviously automatically became people to observe clandestinely.
The watchman would not let me in at first, eventually, good sense prevailed. A side entrance remained the same, I entered. The first difference came to light as girls..girls! came running past me. We had been boys, boys and more boys. Thus the existence of girls at St. Andrews was one of the reasons for heightened allure. I stepped into the office, rewarded by a smile of slight recognition by an office staff member. Smalltalk ensued while a teacher who might know me a little better was sent for. I looked about the office – the stacks of paper, the files, the running in and out of peons.. all of it seemed about the same. And then Jayanthi miss appeared. It is amazing how even after so many years, the ‘miss’ is tacked on automatically. Her smile at seeing me…
Flashback. English class. Jyothi miss reading out Shakespeare to us. She had taken over from Ms Alves – a teacher who lived English as a religion. I sat taking copious notes in the textbook, notes that were expanded onto pages of a file that would eventually find its way to a bunch of classmates, as well as future ICSE-ites. I remember being bored by the time short stories were done in class – I had probably read them 20 times over in my quest for reading material in school. Both teachers in their own trying their very best to awaken latent literary talent in any of us. Getting noticed for having good essays even in exams. Having a magazine article published based on an exam essay.
4th floor, the science lab. My spot at the very back, where the teacher knew I was the last person to make trouble. I remember the number of times we had discussed our pretty science teacher. Yes, yours truly too. My 10th standard classroom. My 7th standard classroom. My memory of being shocked during my first week in school that people actually stood on benches and jumped each other for fun. 10th standard mass-bunks, except for yours truly, who saw the advantages of coming to an empty classroom, and then spending the rest of the day in the library – partly studying, partly reading.
on which basketball mostly degenerated into football. The playground out back has lost all the monkey bars and slides, and is barren. We used to prefer playing at a much larger ground a little further away, especially since you could actually play football. Or actually hit something close to a six. Not that I was any good at either. The havan mandap, where we had a special one before the board exams, to make sure we did well.
