"Kalyanam" for Dummies - a beginner's guide to Iyer marriages

DISCLAIMER: No Iyers were harmed during the composition of this article. However you can be rest assured that at least one Iyer might come to bodily harm after the publication of the same.

“Welcome to the wedding of the season!” - The media screamed about Mira Nair’s “Monsoon Wedding”, a few years back. Marriage - A function I distance myself from every time one of those comes around – for reasons not known to me. Indian marriages, as you might be aware, are spectacular affairs – the lights, the colors, the music all encompassing – and iyer marriages are no exception to this general perception.

But what makes an Iyer Marriage (or “Kalyanam” as it is known in the local tongue) stand out? They are a ritual unto themselves - the bride and the groom, and the relatives who attend and join in the revelry. And God help the hapless soul who fails to ignore the small nuances that come along with the package. Mine is a humble attempt to educate those naïve fellows who might fall into this trap.

As the big day looms, sambandhis (relatives) from all over flock to the venue – some of whom the groom (we’ll take the groom as the “reference object) would never have seen in his life! There are usually “courtesy visits” undertaken, when all and sundry turn up one after the other at the groom’s house. The visit usually starts with a question like “Ennada, readiyaa?” (Are you all set for the marriage?). I’m yet to come across someone who responded with a “No”. The one good aspect of such visits would be the hot cups of filter coffee handed out to everyone, including the groom. One can imagine and shudder at the caffeine levels in the poor man’s blood, by the time he gets to the altar.

Come the big day, the poor guy would more or less resemble the proverbial lamb for slaughter. But then, this is not his story or account. So let’s just leave him to face the music…er…the chants. Marriages are also like quiz competitions – you request people to register in advance, and 90% of participants turn up at the venue unregistered! A sizeable number of relatives turn up only at the Mandapam (Marriage Hall). The first few hours would be pure mayhem, as most of these people would not have met each other for ages (at least not since the last marriage in the family).

What happens next is akin to what used to occur at the gates of the Nazi Concentration Camps of yore – men, women and children to different sides of the hall (not the most apt metaphor, but I couldn’t resist the temptation). The final outcome is always the same – gossip – the difference lying in the levels to which it rises or falls. The women perhaps are predictable – it mostly centers on the unfortunate souls who could not make it to the marriage. The men, I’ve never been able to figure out, since it is too dangerous to go near this group – due to the risk of electrocution from high voltage gossip. And the “children”? - No matter how much you grow up, the elders always refer to you as “kuttikal” (children) – it consists of trying to decipher what the other groups are talking about, only to be shut up by a severe reprimand: “Pesamirungo da! Anga function nadakkarathu!” (Keep quiet! Can’t you see that there’s a function going on?) – wonder when they realized that!

That’s something you need to be aware of – the reprimands. The people who bestow unto themselves the title of “periyavaal” (No…Not “big sword” you idiot! It means “elders”), are always around to warn and advise if you step out of the line. Your first encounter with them would inevitably be when they come in. If it is someone you’ve never seen in your life, be on guard! The first question would be: “Ennada, naan aaru therinjutha? (Hey kid! Do you know who I am)” The safest option would be to act like the proverbial child-in-the-topless-bar and blabber out a “no”. The reaction to this answer has been recorded many a time by experts in the field of psychology as a tirade from the elder about how you used to play in his/her lap when you were a kid. A more adventurous approach would be to boldly say, “Yes! I do”, but the consequence can sometimes be injurious to your ego, as my unfortunate cousin once found out. If the elder in question retorts back: “Oh! Yeah? Then tell me who I am!”, you're in deep water. Personally, I have a reply to such a retort: “Do you mean to say you don’t know who you are?” But the prerequisite for giving such a reply is that you have already prepared your will and appointed an executor.

Iyer marriages are equally well known for their culinary delights as for their pomp and splendor - four-course meals, filled with sweet and spicy delights that make your mouth water. As the clock strikes 12:00 (no obvious connection to Mrs. Cinderella Charming) it is time for the first meal. Strangely though, there won’t be any rush for the first serving. It always starts with the elders commanding the younger ones: “Dei, chaappada varungo!”(Come and have your lunch!) – Mostly since they don’t want to be embarrassed at being the first ones to rush into the dining hall! We of course, will never be there (some hapless children do suffer the misfortune of having to sit in the first round itself, fearful of a tongue-lashing from their parents). We try to make it as late as possible, after the elders have finished their lunch (there’s always enough for everyone). Of course, after their lunch the first thing your elders would ask you is: “Neengal ellam chappatteloda?”(“Have all of you had lunch?”), knowing well that the answer would be “no”. Another embarrassment for you.

Lunch again, has its own “code of conduct” – and men usually bear the brunt of it. Any guy who was gone through the sacred thread ceremony, is not supposed to touch the food until rice and ghee has been served and he has uttered all the necessary mantras (something popularly known as “neer chuthal”) – and inevitably, rice is served last. It starts with the sweets, followed by umpteen curries, and above all, the small serving of “payasam"(kheer). We watch in dismay as the ladies slurp the servings with glee (I don’t need to emphasize what would happen to you if you try eating the payasam before the rice comes around). And when the rice finally arrives, it is an anti-climax – try as you may, the person serving would make sure that the rice is served on top of the payasam. There goes all for nothing!

Etiquette does not end here. First comes the sambar, followed by rasam, a few varieties of payasams, and finally, buttermilk (oops! Did I forget the double dose of “appalams” - papads - in between?). By the time you finish your lunch, the banana leaf on which the food is served should have been wiped clean. Rasam – now that is a dish every Brahmin loves, with the exception of me. Being old enough to disregard the advice of elders, I’ve never had rice with rasam as long as I can remember. But you cannot try the same, if you have your parents or any other relative sitting next to you. If you do not prefer the rice-buttermilk combination to have a sweet taste, and hence prefer to skip all those varieties of payasams, think twice. In our circles, it is considered a heinous crime not to have payasams. Of course, after eating all these (an endeavor that you can compare to a cross country race), you might need to crawl on your belly to get out of the dining hall. Ever wondered why we have pot bellies?

Afternoon is the time to relax and enjoy on your own, with elders enjoying their siesta. Times have changed though, and nowadays you cannot even enjoy a private session of antakshari or dumb charades without the elders challenging you for the same. And if you thought that your array of remixes would serve as ammunition, you’ll be bombarded with those obscure tamil songs from the time when K L Saigal was crawling around in diapers. All said and done, this is the perfect time to impress them and get on their good side – provided you can sing well, and possess rudimentary knowledge in Carnatic Music. There would of course, be the odd expert who might claim that their grand nephew, once removed, could sing a thousand times better. But if you possess a decent voice, you can floor most of them.

The evening starts with hot bajji and…coffee again. After that it’s a mad scramble to get ready for the evening festivities on time. As you would expect, the ladies take the maximum time – to deck themselves up in smooth and shining Kanjeevaram silk sarees and put on tons of gold ornaments that would probably throw any weighing machine off calibration. The guys just have to put on any shirt or trousers they can lay hands on, or drape on any “veshti”(dhoti) lying around. Nobody pays much attention to us – something that might be evident from the Santoor advertisement of yesteryears. Honestly, have you ever seen a guy featured in such ads? I have tried dressing up elaborately in kurta-pyjamas, but the result was not much to talk about. Looking down from the ceremonial dais, you can see an ocean of dazzling color on the side of the auditorium where the ladies would be sitting. It’s time to start from where they left off in the morning – the only difference being in a new topic introduced into the agenda: the origins and family tree structure of every silk saree on view. In another corner you can also spot a splinter group, busy practicing songs for the “oonjal” ceremony the next day.

Talking about music – the kalyanam is never complete without the nadaswaram, the world’s loudest non-brass acoustic instrument. Nowadays the nadaswaram is usually found only in Hindu marriages – the genius of Rajarathnam Pillai, Karukurichi Arunachalam and Sheikh Chinna Moulana has sadly been forgotten. It is the duty of the nadaswaram vidwans(experts) and their accompanying troupe to entertain the audience with Carnatic keertanams. You can perceive the men in the family nodding their heads as if in appreciation of the skill of the artists, even though their attention would be on their on-going gossip session. He would have just finished a glorious raga-alapana, ready to start the pallavi, when the hand of a priest would shoot up from the dais asking him to stop. It is now the priest’s turn to show off his prowess in the Vedas – though for the untrained ear like mine, it would sound like a modem trying to connect to the internet. The unfortunate part is that the groom is expected to repeat whatever the priest recites. The greatest responsibility of the nadaswaram guys however is to play a definite piece of music at regular timed intervals. Those who attend marriages regularly might comprehend what I am referring to but for the uninitiated, this piece may sound similar to the theme music of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Since this is an oft-repeated piece, I did fancy whether it would be a good idea to provide a free CD of the same along with this article. The nadaswaram can then be dispensed with and you just need to run the CD in repeat mode. But the fact that this article might well end up being banned in most agraharams, thus rendering the CD useless, put me off.

Oh! And spare a thought to the groom and bride. Here they are, sitting merrily on the dais: the guy decked up in a blazer – the only time he would ever wear that in his life – and the girl, well, she has to change her garb once in a while. It would have barely been ten minutes since she changed into a brand new silk saree, than the ladies of the family would come and take her along for another costume change. In between, the guy would have had to make a visit to the near-by temple. Nobody knows exactly when this happens, since everyone would be busy in gossip to take notice. The biggest ordeal for them however, is the photography session. Even if the groom and bride are not photogenic, the photography session is mandatory, since all the guests would have primarily turned up for that moment. Each photograph would take 10-15 minutes of arrangement, framing and composition. Add to this, the fact that there would be at least five hundred odd people eager to appear on film. It’s simple mathematics as to how much time this whole exercise would take. A study of this photograph album would enable the groom and bride to trace and draw their family tree. The photography session is the last major act before the grand finale of the first day – the dinner (sadly, for the groom and bride, this may not be the case).

And the dinner? Please refer to the section on the etiquette for lunch. They are the same.

The next day is perhaps the biggest and most important day in the life of the bride and groom: the day they are bound together in wedlock – an event which, in reality, 90% of the people present would never get to witness. All the relatives have to be at the hall early in the morning, and with the unwritten rule that you have to dress up better than the previous evening, you can be sure that for people like me, it would be the one day of the year I see the sun rise. The first important event of the day (no…not breakfast cum another cup of coffee) is the “oonjal” ceremony. The bride and the groom exchange garlands and are seated on a huge swing. Tladies of the house go bananas…er...I mean, feed them banana and milk. The aforementioned “splinter group” who spent the previous evening rehearsing their voices, now take over for a performance of their own – but only after the priest or his assistants announce “aaravathu paattu paadungo” (somebody sing a song) – as if to convince everyone present that they are just obliging on the insistence of everyone. If you listen carefully, you will invariably get to hear only one song – that “laali" song (in reality it is a beautiful piece composed in ragam Kurinji), with all the ladies (never heard the men) competing against each other as if this were an audition for Indian Idol (at this juncture, the idea of staging an “Iyer Idol” did tempt me). Be whatever it may, I have to confess that I personally have sung this song (perhaps the only guy in history to achieve this) at a relative’s marriage, albeit when I was some 10 years old – a fact my mother always tries to bring up during marriages, prompting me to quietly slink away from the place.

At the end of the audition, the groom and bride take up the pole position on the dais. Thall would be choc-a-bloc full with relatives, friends and acquaintances of both families, most of them blissfully unaware of what is happening on the stage. For:

Theirs is not to reason why,
Theirs is but to do and dine…
(Copyright: Lord Alfred Tennyson, the Charge of the Light Brigade)

On the dais, the groom and bride are completely engulfed by hordes of relatives, eager to witness and help in the rituals. Their efficiently in shielding the two would put any black cat commando unit to shame. I’m one of the privileged few who’ve actually witnessed the “thaali kettal” (tying the knot) ceremony that happens in the midst of this security blanket – thanks to the fact that I carry a high-tech digital camera. Ever heard of the term “Paparazzi”?

For the general public, the only indication of something important happening out there would be the periodic outbursts of the aforementioned “theme music". After a while the bride and the groom finally come into view and realization would dawn that everything’s done and dusted. It’s time for lunch.

Really? Maybe the groom would not agree. Here is a guy who has to now sit for over an hour and brave all that smoke, trying to decipher what the priest wants him to recite. And wait, there’s that small ceremony of lifting up his wife’s feet and dragging it on top of a huge grinding stone. It marks the first time that he falls at the feet of his wife – something that he has to keep doing throughout his life…

The grand and sumptuous lunch marks the end of the festivities for most people who turn up (the bride and the groom get to eat last, and are always accompanied by the photographer and the videographer). For the relatives this is the end of another memorable outing whereas for the bride and the bridegroom it marks the beginning of their life together. And people like me? We heave a sigh of relief – for all's well that ends well. All said and done, the Iyer marriage is perhaps the most beautiful and meaningful ceremony. People might dismiss me as cynical and disrespectful. They would advise me: “You can go on teasing. When it is your turn, you’ll realize its important”. But then, I’m still a bachelor and as they say in Hindi: “Bandar kya jaane adrak ka swaad?”

P.S: The incidents detailed here are purely based on the author’s experiences in attending marriages, and do not strictly constitute a “must-do” list for the functions. Elders being elders may always find new ways of reprimanding you. If you come across any such unchartered incidents, do send in your experiences to the author.

This photo was taken on 25th of December, 2006 during our trip to Badami.

Being Christmas Day, we were for a minute astounded to see the entry "Jesus and Milkshake" in the menu of the restaurant.

Blessed art thou, who drinketh my juice...

"Children below 4 feet are not permitted"! Now what's that supposed to mean? I've never seen a child who has more than two feet (like any other human being)

Blast from the Past

"Jeena humko raas na aaya, phir jaane kyon jeete hai?"....floated out the voice of Lata Mangeshkar (from the movie Raat Aur Din) from my Worldspace Radio, late into the night. It was 10:30, a few minutes after the lights had come back following the mandatory powercut (it never happens so late in any other area, according to my utterly knowledgeable sister). The song set me thinking - do we really know the life that we are living?

There are a few moments every day, when we sometimes stop to reflect on small incidents that perhaps change our whole day. Today it happened to me again. It was evening as I sat in the vast coffee corner in the campus, busily clickety-clacking on the precious laptop that today fills my life. A few minutes later, I heard a couple of voices. They were that of some friends whom i did not even know existed anymore. "What are you doing here?" they asked - not reproachful, but filled with surprise and warmth in seeing a face that had forgotten them. There was no hint of acrimony or animosity in their voice. For a moment, i tried to recollect when i had spoken to them the last time, and not surprisingly, I found that I didnot remember. These were not people from the past - for "past" is not a word we can use for times recently passed. These were people with whom I had shared jokes, had laughed with and confided in, a few years back. And now when I had acquired new friends, I had conveniently forgotten them. As we continued our conversation, I felt something tug at my heart. This was not perhaps what I had wanted...

Long after they had left for the day, I sat there wondering about my experience. A new thought stuck me...It was not what I had wanted, but it was something that I had ALLOWED to happen. Sitting here at home, once again in front of the laptop, I can remember a few more forgotten faces I had passed by, somewhere on the road to success. Perhaps tomorrow someone would return the favour to me. We always like to say that we live in the present, conveniently ignoring that it was the past that shaped our present and today's present would be tomorrow's past.

It is almost midnight now. Time for me to sleep. Tomorrow, when I walk forward, I will look back over my shoulder at the people whom I walked past, and smile - a smile full of recognition and friendship - and hope that they smile back at me.

If you are reading this now, it is because I remember you. I hope you too feel the same

What's in a name - Part II

The Super Eights are finally here. The grand circus that goes by the name of "Cricket World Cup" has come alive now that the clowns (read as India and Pakistan) have finished their act and the tightrope walkers have taken over.
Somebody had the bright(pun unintended) idea of staging six matches in Guyana, popularly known as the "Chennai of the West Indies" - It never stops raining here when a cricket match is scheduled. Of course, the matches in Guyana and Antigua are to be played at brand-new stadia. The aptly named "Providence Stadium" in Guyana, as I hear, is not even 100% complete. So you'll probably have the Lankans and South Africans wearing hard-hats on the field - "Safety First, Sports Next". The other stadium is the majestic Sir Vivian Richards Stadium in North Sound, Antigua. Ah!...finally, the King gets his due. I remember during my school days, when West Indies had toured India after the 1987 World Cup, we used to dread seeing this guy bat, demolishing everything that came his way. Unfortunately, the kids of today have never seen anything of his like (Sachin Tendulkar and Ricky Ponting please excuse). By the time, the World Cup comes back to the West Indies, I hope they have stadia named after Sir Gary, Joel Garner, Andy Roberts, Michael Holding etc.

The master-blaster now has a World Cup stadium named after him! Now how many guys can boast of that? We have the MCG, SCG, the Wanderers, Newlands, Eden Park, Basin Reserve, Headingley, Edgbaston and all those. Thomas Lord (after whom Lords is named) is the great exception...unless you are in the Indian subcontinent!! Over here, every other stadium is named after somebody! Have a look:

Bangladesh: Bangabandhu Stadium
Srilanka: R. Premadasa Stadium, P. Saravanamuttu Stadium
Pakistan: Gaddafi Stadium (that's the height!), Faisal Stadium

...and how many international centuries or wickets do these guys have on their name?

Oops! Did I forget India? Perhaps Mr. S.K. Wankhede, Mr. MA Chidambaram and Mr. M Chinnaswami are the greatest international cricketeres this country hs ever produced. And the biggest irony is that every other frigging city has a cricket stadium named after the biggest idiot of all - Mister Jawaharlal Nehru!

Rahul Gandhi might disagree:

"If the Nehru-Gandhi family had been running the BCCI, India would have won all the World Cups so far"

Someone should send him that e-mail which is doing its rounds nowadays about how his grandmom was responsible for India's defeat in the 2o07 World Cup - after all, it was she who created Bangladesh :)

Perhaps they can take a leaf out of the West Indian book, and name some stadia after Kapil Dev or Sunil Gavaskar - never mind how big a prick he is. But strangely, I feel that future events might get slotted to the Sharad Pawar Stadium or the Lalu Prasad Yadav Stadium

The boy who asked for more...

"Please Sir, I want some more"

Who can forget those immortal lines? The little orphan boy requesting for more soup in Charles Dickens's evergreen classic, Oliver Twist... and that is exactly the feeling I had after watching Roman Polanski's version of this classic on TV yesterday...

No. It was not because, I was so impressed that I was left wanting for more. But Polanski could have done a little more justice to the final product that he has presented before us.

Polanski has taken up one of the finest classics and churned it out into an impressive movie. Perhaps he found inspiration in his own childhood to detail the story of the little orphan boy on celluloid. As a child he spent the years during World War II wandering around Europe, after his parents' imprisonment in the German concentration camps.

Technically the film is impressive. The art design and cinematography are excellent in the way Polanslki has managed to recreate 19th century London. Barney Clark does a fine job as little Oliver. There is a certain sadness in his face that endears him to the audience. But it is Ben Kingsley who steals the show in the role of the roguish, but immensely lovable character of Fagin. He simply walks away with all the laurels.

As the movie progresses, Polanski digresses from the classic and has completely erased out the characters of Rose Mailey - Oliver's Aunt and Monks - Oliver's stepbrother. For a two-hour long movie, Polanski has deliverd! It is definitely a must watch for movie lovers. But for ardent lovers of the Dickens classic, it falls short as a representation of the little boy's travails on the silver screen

Of Bridesmaids and Miracles

It was perhaps the second biggest match of the World Cup - the bridesmaid in all sense: Australia v South Africa. This was the clash between the top two teams in the World - their first World Cup meeting ever since THAT semi-final at Edgbaston.

So why call it the Bridesmaid? Because of April 15th 2007. The Super Eight schedule read thus:

April 15, Super Eights - B2 v D1 - The Kensington Oval, Barbados

The fact that this match was scheduled at the same venue which would feature the finals, a little after two weeks to this encounter did not escape my attention. It was slated to be the Final before the Final - the biggest attraction of this World Cup:

India (B2) vs Pakistan (D1)

A lot of water has flown under the bridge since then, and now the schedule reads as:

April 15, Super Eights - Bangladesh v Ireland - The Kensington Oval, Barbados

I didn't see Pepsi's "World Cup kola" ad on the telly yesterday. So much for jingoism...

Returning to the bridesmaid, for those of us in the subcontinent who had come to terms with the exit of the self-proclaimed power houses of cricket, this was THE match. South Africa, crowned the current world number one - barely beatable in their own backyard, and barely unbeatable outside it, were up against Australia,from whom they'd wrested the world number one title. People had forgotten when was the last time they had won against a test-playing opposition.

Reaching home from office, I switched on the TV and saw to my surprise something that read 1 0 4 6 6 - oh! they were at it again. But wait a minute! This was no ordinry part time seamer. They were taking Shaun Pollock apart! Fifty overs and umpteen power outages later, I was still watching as the Aussies piled up a whopping 377 for 6 (in between switching channels to see the lone cameo being enacted by Steve Tikolo against the English).

Nathan Bracken ran in for the first ball of the fifth over, and Graeme Smith, like a man possessed, charged out and in a flash, despatched the ball to the long off boundary. It was perhaps the most audacious shot of the day. The old warhorse, Glenn McGrath, trudged in to replace the erratic Shaun Tait, and was greeted by three consecutive fours. The bull had been taken by the horns. Memories of March 12 2006 came flooding back - the last time these two teams met in a One Day International - THAT match at the Wanderers in Johannesburg. The legacy of that match seems to have left an indelible mark on Australia-South Africa clashes. Pitches might never again be prepared to entertain us with the brilliance of a Brett Lee or a Shaun Pollock. Perhaps never again, would we get to see a low-scoring thriller in the likes of Edgbaston. I pray for the bowlers...May their souls rest in peace.

When you are playing in the World Cup, miracles do not happen everyday. Yesterday, it took a miraculous throw from the deep by Shane Watson to stop South Africa in their tracks, and from the Aussie point of view, it might have been divine intervention that prevented Graeme Smith from continuing.

But for the blue billion, miracles and divine interventions may have come a day too early...

Perhaps, God is not Indian

-The Klansman

Future Attractions

Coming soon to this Klavern:

1. What a misconception!!

2. Kalyanam for Dummies: A Beginner's Guide to Iyer Marriages

-The Klansman

Reminiscing Goa

One year ago, four of us - Me, Aravinda, Priyananda and Vinay - set out for Goa. It was a memorable trip in various ways - speeding around the countryside on bikes, splashing aournd the waters of the arabian sea, enhancing our vocabulary, and finding out new uses for coconut oil. A few shots from that trip...

Calangute

Calangute

Baga

Baga

Sinquerim

Palolem

Palolem

Vagator

Vagator

The Dark Side of the Moon - review of "All Quiet on the Western Front"

IMDB title: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0020629/

“This story is neither an accusation, nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped its shell, were destroyed by the war”…Thus begins one of the most influential war movies of all time – so influential that, years after its release, it was still being banned in countries mobilizing for World War II. Based on Erich Maria Remarque’s book and directed by Lewis Milestone, “All quiet on the Western Front” won two Academy Awards - for the Best Motion Picture and Best Director - in the year 1930.

“All quiet on the Western Front” relates the story of young German recruits in World War I, as they pass from idealism to disillusionment. A classroom lecture inspires the group of young men led by Paul Baumer (Lew Ayres), to enlist in the army, eager to serve the fatherland. As their teacher says, “To be foremost in battle is a virtue not to be despised”. However, their induction into the “2nd Company” at the front is far from cheerful. Stomachs cringe for every morsel of food, whenever it comes by. The fear of death lingers in the trenches as deadly shells whiz past. One by one, they fall by the wayside – Kropp, Behn, Kemmerick, Mueller, Albert – either into the jaws of death or losing their mind in the absolute madness of “the war to end all wars”. As what he expected to be a “short war” stretches on for four years, the passion of fighting for the country turns to frustration, and finally to despair for Baumer, leading to a fatal conclusion.

The movie digresses from the proverbial “good v bad” theme. There are no stereotype “enemies” out here. Rather, it paints the picture of a war that nobody wanted. Trapped in a crater with the enemy soldier he has killed, Baumer echoes these very sentiments: “You’re just a man like me. We only wanted to live! If we threw away this uniform, we can be like brothers!” For those of us brought up on the steady diet of the technically brilliant present day war movies, “All quiet…” has all the drawbacks of black & white movies of a bygone era – over-dramatization of emotional sequences, the editing that sometimes tends to make the scenes a bit too long, and not to mention the least, the complete absence of a background score (a deliberate ploy by Milestone).

Lew Ayres gives a convincing performance as the young protagonist, Paul Baumer, though at times he goes overboard with the portrayal. This was his stepping stone into an illustrated career that would stretch well into the late nineteen eighties. However, it is Louis Wolheim as the cynical Corporal “Kat” Katczinsky – the 2nd Company’s ‘canteen’ – who holds the movie together. His sardonic wit lights up the whole film. His prophetic statement – “the war won’t be over until they get me” – ironically comes true when he is felled by a shell during the last days of the Great War.

“All Quiet on the Western Front” is a collection of now-famous cinematic moments: The first meeting of the young recruits and the veteran soldiers, Baumer’s anguish as he lies in the crater with the soldier he has killed, his pacifist speech to his astonished schoolmates, and that final moment, when the enemy soldier fixes Baumer in the crosshairs of the rifle, as he reaches his hand out for that fatal butterfly…

Far away in the hills of Kohima, in an immaculate cemetery, lie the graves of the Indian Army soldiers who fought in the Burma campaign of World War II. On a monument at the foot of the cemetery, one can find the poem:

When you go home
Tell them of us and say
For your tomorrow
We gave our today

This is a story of a lost generation – of young men, who gave their today for no tomorrow. There is rarely any glory in war…only the stark reality of death! As Paul Baumer says, “We live in the trenches out there. We fight. We try not to be killed. Sometimes we are…that’s all!”

-The Klansman

Babies' Day Out

It was the usually dull Saturday evening. When all of India (or at least half of it) was heading towards Palace Grounds for the Iron Maiden concert, here i was, sitting before the telly, with nothing else to do, but catch the action from the World Cup.

"JUST IN - Kumble, Karthik, Pathan and Sreesanth rested" - screamed NDTV and CNN-IBN. Huh? Is this a World Cup encounter, or a practice game? "I expect a clinical performance from the team", mused the captain, and I guess, the team took his words literally - they just laid themselves down on the operating table for the Bangladeshis to dissect. Virender Sehwag seems to be the most innovative of the lot - trying to discover new ways of getting run out.

However, two hours of ennui was alleviated by an SMS from my friend: "Forget India. Watch the Pakistan match". I switched channels - there was a match being played on some ground, where you couldn't distinguish which was the pitch and which was the outfield - everything looked green ("The Irish are coming out in green" screamed Aamer Sohail, and then corrected himself: "Their version of the green"), and the pakistanis hopping around like the proverbial cat on the tin roof (where the heck did they find a fossil like Azhar Mahmood? Dug him out of some archeological site?). And just when things were etting interesting, my cable guy pulled the plug!

It sure was the Babies' Day Out. But not necessarily mine. Spare my cable operator's indiscretion in cutting off the cable and going to sleep, but the world cup is yet to inspire me to stay awake till 3:30 in the morning and watch the action. I've had to rely on cricinfo the next day, to catch up on most of the action.

Talking about cricinfo, ever since last Tuesday, the guys take you automatically to what they call their World Cup Page. The first thing you see when the page opens is Hrithik Roshan calling out "Oye Pappe". Makes you think whether they've got the right topic, before you realize that it is an ad for some satellite television network. Following him would be ads from Reebok, Airtel, LIC, monster.com et al. The whole place is also filled with blogs. Now that the World Cup is here, every Tom, Dick and Ravi have taken it upon themselves to be cricket writers. And the players themselves are not far behind - Sangakkara, Sarwan and Gayle, to name a few. Enterprising chaps. At least they have a fallback option, if they don't click on field.

-The Klansman

The Colour of Spring

A Hard Day's Work

Fowl Play!

Dear Mr. Eoin Colfer,

It has always been a delight to me to read your works. I have been following the exploits of your young criminal mastermind Artemis Fowl. I cannot tell you in words how much I adore him and his adventures. I have just finished reading your latest book, and I found it simply awesome! I finished the book in one go, without putting it down. You are simply a genius. But I guess you must be getting a lot of such mails from Artemis's fans...

...and maybe that's why you've lost your brains.

...for that's the impression I got after reading "Artemis Fowl and The Lost Brain" (er...sorry, "The Lost Colony"). I have indeed read the previous four titles. I loved the first three and managed to read through the fourth last year (though I don't remember what it was all about) . It was only recently that I laid my hands on Book V of the series. The blurb seemed quite interesting - Artemis Fowl has a competition! Wow! Now that's something to read for...

Read, I did - until 11:30 on Saturday I read and read and read, and it was impressive - No.1's dilemma, Minerva's plans and Artemis's execution of the counterplan. And then, you seem to have thrown in the kitchen sink. Maybe it was something you ate in Taiwan. Speaking of Taiwan, how much did you get for promoting the tourism industry there? Or do you have some strange fetish for Taipei 101?

What the hell were you thinking when you wrote those last 100-odd pages? Time-warp, time tunnel, some goddamn extinct volcano...huh?? Someone get me outta here...and so much for the good side of Artemis, puberty and all those mushy stuff. What are we in store for in Book VI? The "Harry met Sally" version of Artemis Fowl? Are you seriously suffering from the JK Rowling Syndrome?

-The Klansman

The call that never came...

It was like waiting for Godot. On 25th January, as I was gleefully loitering along Fergusson College Road (ogling at the girls) in Pune, I got the call from Arindam informing that I was one of his choices for the "phone-a-friend" lifeline on KKK...KBC.

The opportunity came a year late perhaps (I would've loved to talk to the Big B), but I was delighted - not for the fact that I would be talking to whatsisname. It's not everyday that you get to feature on prime-time television.

To say the least, the news did not go down well with you-know-who's fans in the office ("why not me?") - some of whom wanted me to put them in conference when the call came. I was given a one page instruction sheet that informed me the modalities for attending the call - above all, to "sound surprised" when I receive the call - "After all, it is not everyday that you get to speak to Mr. Shah Rukh Khan".

As the D-day loomed, I was getting more and more jittery - not at the prospect of hearing whatsisname stutter, but at the thought of making a fool of myself in front of the zillion people who would be watching. To compensate for the change of the anchor, at least the quality of questions had gone up (to give an example: "Which product was voted by TIME magazine as the Best Invention of 2006? a. Google Desktop Search b. Ipod Nano c. YouTube d. Orkut", compared to "Which of the following animals would you come across in a desert? a. Bull b. Elephant c. Camel d. Cow") , and being the quizzer that he is, I was sure Arindam would gimme a call only when he was THAT desperate.

On the 14th of February, on St. Valentines Day, I refused to attend any other calls on my mobile - something which I guess, many others would not approve. But THE call never came...Later I found out that Arindam had lost the hot seat by less than a second. How Sad! After all, it is not everyday that Mr. Shah Rukh Khan gets an opportunity to speak to me...

I feel for him...

-The Klansman

What's in a name??

Courtesy: American Heritage Dictionary

klutz (klŭts): n. Slang

1. A clumsy person.
2. A stupid person; a dolt.

[Yiddish klots, from Middle High German kloz, block, lump, from Old High German.]

klutz'i·ness n., klutz'y adj.

Before you take offense to my change of name, let me assure you: Personally, I do not have anything against blacks, or any other so-called 'coloured' individuals. In fact I am not any "fairier" than you (and neither is life). Rather, I would consider myself to be a thoroughly colourful personality.

The emphasis is more on the second word, which perhaps (v)indicates my brain.

As they say, "what's in a name anyway?"

Bombay....

The city of dreams...Yes, we'd heard of it. And now, we got a chance to see it. But what did we see?

Before I embarked on the trip, I was told: "Chowpatty is a must-visit".

The truth is:

• We didn't visit Chowpatty
• We didn't vist Juhu beach
• Neither did we loiter around the Marine Drive (of course, the customary visit was included)

For a day and a half, we walked and walked....in and around Old Bombay ("Bombay" should have been old enough, what with all the renaming crap, but for me, they're still "Bombay", "Madras", "Cochin" etc.), revelling in the splendour of the grand buildings from the bygone British era - enticed by the Taj Mahal Hotel, enchanted by the old University Building and enamoured by the Old Lady of Dadabhai Naoroji Road (they called her "Victoria Terminus" in those days).

That's me for you...and that's why I changed the name of my blog...

Solitude....

The soft hum of the Air Conditioner permeates the eerie silence. Steely rays of the sun penetrate the blinds on my left. As I look to the right, I can see immaculate rows of black chairs placed strategically on either side of the passsage. The whole room is lit in heavenly white light. There's nary a soul here except for me.... And the question I ask myself is:

WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING IN OFFICE ON A SATURDAY??

Well, you sow what you reap...
And miles to go before you sleep...

18 Runs!!!

Make no mistake...I'm an Aussie fan!

But losing such a match is quite depressing! Greg Chappell should be kicked!

I wish the weekend could've started in a better way...

Re-Birth

It's official now...We are re-launching Kshitij - with a new team (and a new look? We'll talk about that once we get an art director). The first meeting lived up to its name - we met for close to two hours, and dispersed without having taken many steps forward on deciding the theme. The credit for the same should go to yours truly and Abesh. We tried our level best to hijack the meeting with our gross PJs

Looking forward to all those sleepless days (not nights, mind you!) that we would spend roaming around the campus and clicking photos with the "bahana" that we are "on duty for Kshitij". After all, we are official paparazzis

Singin' in the Rain - an Insider's View from Chennai

15th August 2006, 9:30 PM: A steady drizzle – the indications of an impending storm - was falling down from the gloomy Chennai sky. The entire nation was celebrating India’s 60th Independence Day and we….were Singin’ in the Rain. On August 15th 1998, I had disembarked at Chennai Central, on the threshold of my first job, and into the world of Corporate Quizzing. It was eight years now…and things had changed.

For all those years, I was more or less, one of the whipping boys in the field of quizzing. The situation had not changed when, after two years, I shifted to Bangalore – in fact it had worsened. Off late we were improving - what with an on-stage finish for the Odyssey Quiz in January 2006. But the events that unfolded on August 15th 2006, literally took us by storm.

Every year, on August 15th, the city of Chennai witnesses an “event of epic proportions” – the Landmark Quiz, one of the biggest and most prestigious open quizzes. Teams from all over Chennai, as well as from other cities such as Bangalore, Cochin, Pondicherry et al., converge on the famous Music Academy to vie for the top honors. Our first attempt at the quiz last year had ended in abject disappointment at Derek O’Brien’s now-infamous questions. With “history” behind us, I did not have high hopes when we set out for the quiz.

It was a Tuesday, and hence no Shatabdis to Chennai – which meant, I could as well avoid the early morning journey to Bangalore City station. Before the sleepy suburb of Krishnarajapuram could even wake up, I was there at the railway station, waiting for the Lal Bagh Express. The train came ten minutes late, giving me ample time to complete the Sudoku in the day’s edition of “The Hindu”

For a holiday, the train was only sparsely populated – no Arul Manis, Avinash Mudaliars, or “B”s – Only Sumeet Shetty, Pranav K Wankawala, Jayendra Bisnik and yours truly. The journey was more than six hours long, but when there are more than two SAP guys together; you can expect that there would be lots to talk about. Interspersed with lots of snacks and drinks breaks, we had long discussions about the IMS 3 year Celebrations - A jealous Bisnik trying his best to insist that people in IMS did not have any work, arguments about whether Salarpuria is a better quizzing venue than Campus, the upcoming Sports and Entertainment Quiz - how we could attract more number of girls to participate in that, Code Olympics 2006, and of course some unmentionable gossip (I don’t remember what it was, but we did promise Bisnik that even if we did leak it out, we would make sure to mention that “Bisnik didn’t tell us”).

By the time we got down at Chennai (15 minutes late), Bisnik was already getting sentimental about the city. He kept insisting that we ditch the quiz and go for a dip in the sea at Besant Nagar Beach. We somehow managed to convince him that we would surely take him there once we get screwed in the quiz prelims. Armed with four big bottles of water we set out for our first destination – Kabul (no, not THAT Kabul, but a restaurant near the Music Academy). For all the hoop-la about security threats all over the country, there were just a handful of policemen waiting at the station. From their expressions it seemed to me that they too, like Bisnik, would have preferred to be at the Besant Nagar beach.

The auto rickshaw drive to the restaurant was memorable one – since 1. It cost a whopping 100 rupees for a 15 minutes ride, with four persons bundled into a single auto, and 2. as one of us pointed out, it was like taking a “supari” on someone – we had to pay 50 rupees as advance amount. The lunch at Kabul was a sumptuous affair – though not for MY pocket, since it was on me. The place seemed to be “haunted”, since there were lots of “Ghost” items in the menu. Bisnik seemed thoroughly disappointed, since there were no drinks served there – being the Independence Day, the whole city was “dry” (even otherwise it is…).

By the time we reached the venue, it was already brimming with people of all ages! 2:30 was the reporting time and the hall was already getting filled. P. Rajesh (whom we respectfully call as “uncle”), had flown in that day all the way from Mumbai. He was to be the third member of our team: “Immaculate Misconception”. In an attempt to grab the prize for the best team name, Pranav, Bisnik and Vishwa(nath Ramamurthy) had named themselves “Landmark Express: Bangalore to Chennai”.

Even though our seats for the quiz were reserved, it was lousy – in the upper balcony and that too, towards a side. There was still one more hour to go for the quiz, and as usual, Pranav took out his ubiquitous digital camera and started shooting. Some unintelligible rock music was blaring out of the speakers – perhaps the only time that the hallowed Music Academy will witness such a thing. We were already planning as to how the spend the evening after we get knocked out in the prelims. I wanted to watch (of all the things) a Tamil movie, whereas Bisnik was still going on about visiting Besant Nagar beach. Shetty’s long nose had disappeared inside the Penguin Landmark quiz book that I had purchased a few moments ago. Soon (as usual), Uncle was into his afternoon siesta. Looking around, I could see a lot of school children and families…and a few familiar faces as well – “No Questions Asked” (that guy who always comes in the “Che Guevara” T-shirt), one of the contenders for the trophy, were lurking around just behind us!

Derek’s entry on stage was greeted by thunderous applause from the kids, some of whom were jumping up and down on seeing their Bournvita idol. Being the nice guy that I am, I too applauded. The prelims started off in ominous fashion: “Technically, which vegetable should be washed, cut from the bottom, and discarded at the top?” This was followed by two multiple choice questions – typical of Derek! Just when I thought that this was going to be another dreary evening, the questions started getting more and more interesting. Our team had a specific game plan – Uncle would do the thinking, Shetty would write down the answers and I would, well, copy down the questions. It helped though, since there was no rerun of the questions, and we had to go back to various questions to fill out the answers. As the answers were announced, we were busy counting off how many we got – 25 out of 40. Quite a few of our guesses had paid off, and we had not suffered from “Vinay Syndrome”. Not bad, but maybe not enough…Incidentally, the answer for the first question was “carrot” which of course, prompted discussions (similar to last year’s hanging flag question) as to why radishes or brinjals cannot be cut from the bottom.

Pranav was already insisting that we should try for audience prizes and should catch hold of prime seating positions in the front near the stage. However, Derek had already announced that seats for the finals are not reserved and were up for grabs. He even got away with his statement that the second row was reserved for supporters of DMK and the third row for the supporters of AIADMK. After the prelims, we made a spirited dash downstairs, only to find that no one was budging from their seats. By the time we got back, we found that our seats were already occupied! The result: we had to climb higher up to find seats – which we finally did in some corner.

The finals were preceded by the launch of the Penguin-Landmark Quiz Book Vol. – 2 (the one Shetty was so engrossed in sometime back). This was followed by US-based author Vikram Chandra’s sneak preview of his book “Sacred Games”. Derek soon called on stage his partner-in-crime, Gautam Padmanabhan, and Navin Jayakumar’s mother to announce the finalists. Mrs. Jayakumar called out the first name: “The Three Musketeers”. I felt as if lightning had struck me when Derek announced that they had scored 23.5 to qualify. Soon enough, Mrs. Jayakumar announced on the microphone: “Immaculate Misconception!” The name had proved lucky!

It took us some time to climb down and make our way backstage among the maze of people. There was another surprise waiting for us backstage – we had won the prize for the Best Corporate Team. They wanted something to identify us as a corporate team. Sumeet produced his business card; me, my company ID card; and uncle, his Amex corporate card. In the draw of lots, we had picked ourselves as the seventh team. The curtains were still drawn and it was all dark on stage as we took up our places. Derek was still calling out the finalists’ names. Some of them were really interesting: “Namita Bachao Andolan”, “3M: Mama, Machan and Mappilai etc.

It was time to blast off, and as the curtain lifted, the sight that I beheld was that of a full house! This was heaven... But soon I was brought down to earth by what captured my attention on stage. There, sitting next to us what the team “No Standard and Very Poor” (according to Derek, the first ever finalists to come wearing shorts), with the familiar face of that lawyer with the French beard, who often partners Avinash Mudaliar. His partner had done one better than Uncle. He had flown down from New York for one week to attend the quiz. Right in front of us sat our friends, “No Questions Asked”. And right across us, on the other side, sat two juggernauts: The defending champions: The Know Brainers - Rajiv Rai and Co., and the best quiz team in South India: Q.E.D – Samanth Subramanian (with his traditional cap) and Co. The format of the quiz meant that the last two teams after each round should exit the stage – which meant, I mused, that at least we didn’t have to prolong the pain after the first round.

As is usual with Derek’s quiz, there was the customary power point show, progressing year by year as the quiz went along. There were to be twenty two questions in the first round. The first three questions were cracked directly by the teams, and it seemed to follow the pattern until it reached us. We got an absolute gem: “What is common to Nivi, Gond, Kodagu and Kache?” The answer turned out to be “various styles of wearing a saree”, but none of the teams got it! On the next run, we were luckier: “What is so special about the color International Orange?” I should thank my boss for sending me to San Francisco. But by the end of the first round, we were not in any great position to talk about – we had answered only two questions, which was more or less the same as any other team

At the end of the round, Derek called us on centre stage…Was this it? Had the expected happened? It turned out to be the announcement for our Best Corporate Team award – and the whole crowd got to know that we were from Bangalore! When the results came up, “No Questions..” were leading and we were surprisingly in 3rd place – the rule that points gained in prelims get carried over had helped us. 3M and The Three Musketeers had to exit the stage.

Uncle came into his own in the second round, cracking questions left and right. By this time, not surprisingly Derek had taken a liking to our team name, and didn’t miss an opportunity to crack jokes at the same – especially when we gave the answer for a question as “Rosemary’s Baby”. An extension of the second round was the buzzer round called “The Brain of Chennai”, in which only one member of the team had to participate. Me and Shetty conveniently put the onus of this round on Uncle and disappeared backstage. By now, Q.E.D was on the up, and Swamy from Q.E.D romped to the title of “The Brain of Chennai”.

The round had however, changed some important equations. “No Questions” had had their lead eaten into and in fact were no longer leading. Due to the fact that Uncle had not attempted even a single question (and no negatives), we were still in the hunt. Exit “Namita…” and “No Standard & Very Poor”. Now it was three seasoned teams against one team of first timers – eight questions to go in the third round. That is when QED decided to get into the act. They would not let any question get past them! The result was that “No questions” and “Know-Brainers” found questions drying up. The use of the “infinite bounce technique” meant that every question would start from us, since in the order of seating; we were now, next to QED. We managed to crack a couple of questions to move closer to the other teams – and the only people cheering us were our fellow team from Bangalore, somewhere up there in the balcony!

It was now down to the last question of the round, with the result going any way. It came as a bolt out of the blue as Derek started talking about Stefan Edberg and Michael Stich playing out that long-drawn semi final at Wimbledon 91, and how Edberg had remarked that if Jimmy Van Allen hadn’t lived, “we would still be playing out there” – and it was directed at us! A groan that escaped from the “No Questions…” team told us that something had really gone wrong! They still were hoping for a pass, but for such a question we were not going to miss as Derek himself agreed (“you’ve got your ten points, now give me the answer”)!

Before the results were announced, there was the small matter of announcing the best team name. Pranav’s efforts had gone in vain, as this time Derek opted for the Zidane-Materazzi formula. However, none of the four names chosen in the final list were worth mentioning much. According to me the best amongst the lot was “The Brahmin who sold his lungi”, but the audience disagreed. They plumped for “Materazzi to Zidane: Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna”. ???

The results left us jumping with joy! QED were leading with 130 points, with us placed second at 83, and “no questions..” at 70. Those ten points had made the big difference. There was still one more round to go, but we could not recover from the 47 points deficit. Within 3 questions, the Best Quiz Team in South India had beaten us. Prizes were given away, lots of hands were shaken, but I was still in a daze. After exchanging all the congratulations, we came down from stage and proceeded outside. It had started drizzling. Uncle declined the invitation to dinner, as he would be celebrating through the night. The five of us had a nice little dinner at the usual haunt – Palki – across the road (Phone calls and SMSes from my friends had already started). Now it was time to return back, and another memorable auto rickshaw ride (the driver’s hobby was to visit all the petrol pumps on Nungambakkam High Road). In a few hours time, we would all go our separate ways. Until then, it was time to cherish our victory.

Five Days Later…

Our victory is now a sensation in the office. The mails have started flowing in. Realization has dawned that perhaps we should take our quizzing more seriously. I now reflect back onto the reality of our victory. Was it a false dawn? Maybe, maybe not…But as Sumeet mentioned yesterday, “If Odyssey was something you can talk to your grandchildren about, then what about this?”

Oh Well!! It's good to be back...

I've never been an avid diarist(is that what it is called?) ever since I passed out of school. Hence forget about Blogs altogether! But still, I can't believe that it has actually taken me more than a year to make a visit over here.

Music review: Lucky

He is known for his trademark style of music. He became a household name a few years back, with the soulful “Kabhi To Nazar Milao”. Since then he has brought out two more best-selling albums, cavorting with the leading actresses of Bollywood in the music videos. Lucky – No time for Love (henceforth I’ll refrain from using the byline) features Salman Khan and Aishwarya Rai look-alike Sneha Ullal in the lead, with Mithun Chakravarthy in a supporting role, and marks Adnan Sami’s debut as a music director in Bollywood.

Sami starts off with the beautifully romantic Jaan Meri Jaa Rahi Sanam. Soothing and melodious, the song beings softly with the voice of Udit Narayan. Sami uses the tabla and the flute to build up the song. The orchestration reminds you strongly of the title track of “Tera Chehra”. Anuradha Paudwal compliments Udit’s voice perfectly. Sameer’s lyrics are splendid (Kya ladakpan hai, kya jawani hai, ab tumhare naam meri zindgani hai. Kya haqeeqat hai, kya kahani hai, saamne mere meri sapnon ki rani hai). A sure chart-topper!

Sun Zara starts off with some Gregorian chant-like stuff and heavy thumping beats which makes you think as if you are listening to something out of Enigma. However, Sonu Nigam puts you at ease, and what follows is one of his best songs so far. Sonu perfectly manages to convey the anguish of separation through his voice. The solo violin piece in the background is haunting.

If you though the best was over, what follows is sheer bliss. Adnan Sami and Lata Mangeshkar work magic with Shayad Yahi To Pyar Hai – easily the best track in the album! The lyrics are once again splendid! Those who accuse Lata lately of being too shrill (including your’s truly), should listen to this track! This is the Lata we all love. Sami and Lata are exhilarating in both the high and low notes of the song. Simply marvelous!

What follows is only for Salman Khan fans. Chori Chori is not in the same league as the above mentioned threesome, but for it’s lively pace, it’s likeable chhed-chhad song. For Sonu Nigam and Alka Yagnik, it’s a routine day’s work. The chorus in the background is catchy.

Asha! Oh Asha! What would we have done without you? Lucky Lips is not a song which people would fall in love with at first hearing. But the song grows on you on further hearing. Mind you, you’ll have to ignore some lyrics if you want to listen to the song. Watch out for the excellent rendition of the antaras. Lubov Mix of ‘Sun Zara’ comes next with intermittent vocals by Adnan Sami. It is however, not the usual remix stuff you get to hear nowadays – add some beats in the background, add some illegible mumbling of English words in the name of rap and put in a ‘yo’ here and there. Sami has done a wonderful job by adding the sax and the guitar to the original.

Hum Deewane, a mediocre piece by Sonu Nigam and Anuradha Paudwal follows. There’s not much in the song to catch your attention, and it sounds just like the run-of-the-mill tracks that you come across in any Hindi movie. This one is an invitation to press the forward button. This is just a minor aberration though, as Asha is back with the Bolshoi Mix of ‘Lucky Lips’. It actually sounds better than the original, though there is no doubt that Adnan has been inspired by Robert Miles! To close off the album, Adnan gives Sonu Nigam stiff competition with his own melancholic rendition of Sun Zara.

Lucky definitely scores in melody. Salman Khan is on a high! The year 2004 saw Salman bag a big hit in Mujhse Shaadi Karogi and a Screen award nomination for best actor (Ugh!) in Garv.
Lucky could turn out to be what the doctor ordered for Salman Khan – a hit! Of course, while listening to the album some of us will have to forget that Salman Khan will be enacting out the songs on the screen! However, it would be better if Adnan Sami becomes less predictable with his songs – traces of his previous albums do creep up in various songs. Nevertheless, Lucky is certainly a good buy for lovers of romantic numbers. And for lovers of Adnan Sami’s music, it is a MUST BUY!

“We came, we saw…we screwed it up”

One of the best ways of making easy money in this world is through quizzing – not to leave out the additional benefit of not having to pay tax. It wouldn’t then be very much surprising that this truth would have dawned on others too. For years, Bangalore, Chennai, Hyderabad and Calcutta have vied for the unofficial title of “The Quizzing Capital of India”. For a person who began quizzing quite late in life (during my ‘Engineering’ days), I was surprised when around 450 teams turned up for the Landmark Quiz on November 1st at the Chowdiah Hall. I had not yet witnessed the Odyssey Quiz.

I had heard of the Odyssey Quiz in the past. They advertise it as ‘The biggest Open Quiz in India’. I didn’t think much of it when it saw the mail for the 2005 edition, to be held on January 26th, the Republic Day. But then, in a weak moment, I, along with Vinay and Arindam decided to go ahead and give it a try. We were further pumped up by the fact that during the preceding weekend, we managed to qualify for the finals of the KQA monthly quiz (what happened in the final is an altogether different story).

So we ended up booking tickets to take us to Chennai. We were to return on the same day (and that too, in AC first class). I was more than happy, since the trip would give me an opportunity to indulge in a less glamorous (to the common man) and much maligned hobby – train spotting. As D-Day dawned, we reached Bangalore City station in the wee hours of the morning, (clad in the thickest jackets to beat the cold) catch the Lalbagh Express. To my disappointment, all the seats in our coach were facing away from the engine. Even though I took the window seat, it would mean that I would need to always glance backward with my SLR camera, to get a shot of any train.

Outside Bangalore, I got to see something which I’ve never bother to watch in the past one year – the sunrise. With the sun coming up, I took off my jacket to reveal the saffron-coloured kurta (with some Sanskrit inscriptions) I was wearing on that day. My teammates gaped in horror at it. Ever since the leading newspapers had carried my name on their front pages (“Ravi Subramaniam turns approver” – dated: Jan 21, 2005), they had been quite reluctant to take me along with them. However, I had paid for the tickets, leaving them with very little option.

As we pulled into Jolarpettai, I dropped a bombshell that one of my friends had contracted typhoid after drinking water from the station. After hearing this, Vinay went into a fast, refusing to eat anything which had “local water content” in it. We would go on to survive the journey on potato chips and biscuits. Arindam had had the common sense to bring along some sandwiches. By the time we reached Chennai Central I had managed to getaround 10 photographs of trains, much to the amusement (or was it disgust?) of my teammates.

The ride by auto rickshaw to the venue was memorable. For me, it brought back memories from the two years I had spent there. Vinay was rather impressed by the fact that we spotted at least four Honda City cars during our 15-minute drive to the venue – the great Music Academy.

Other than a few volunteers running around the place, the venue looked rather deserted. The organizers assured us of our registration. We escaped for a lavish lunch across the road. I managed to call up some of my friends and acquaintances, and also sprain my ankle quite badly - as a result of which Vinay had to abandon his ambition to visit the Landmark bookstore.

By the time we crossed the road back, the venue was an ocean of people. To make things worse, we did not have our registration number. To my utter surprise, I found that almost 900 teams had turned up! After a bit of haggling, we managed to find our team name – Norwegian Midnight (why ”Norwegian Midnight”?? beats me! Ask Vinay) scribbled somewhere in the list of registrations. We were assured of a seat!

The Music Academy is perhaps one of the oldest public halls in the city of Chennai – a place coveted by the lovers of Carnatic Music. To give a concert there is a feather in the cap of any musician. It was definitely great to be back there after four years. The hall filled up in no time. Teams had come from everywhere – Trichy, Bangalore, Mysore, Hyderabad, and even from New Delhi.

The quizmaster, Praveen Goday (Vinay found a passing resemblance of Benny Hinn in him) made a grand appearance at exactly 3:00 p.m. – on time. The questions for the prelims sounded unusually easy, compared to some of the quizzes we have attended. From the dimensions of the Indian National Flag to Amitabh Bachhan’s career as a narrator, we were quizzed on anything under (and over) the sun. Goday even had some tricks up his sleeve – at the end of question 28, from somewhere in the audience; a mobile phone started ringing. As some of the contestants wondered which idiot had forgotten to switch off his mobile phone, it turned out to be question number 29. Goday asked us to identify the composer of the piece! As the answers were being announced, we realized that missing even a single question was going to cost us a lot. The familiar oohs and aahs of the contestants could be heard everywhere. We managed to score 21 out of 35 – one more than Mrs. Gayatri, the middle-aged lady sitting behind us. We soon learnt that she and her son were the runners-up from the previous year’s edition!

The final 8 consisted of some well-known names in quizzing. QED - perhaps one of the best teams in South India - were the defending champions. Giving them company on stage were the husband and wife team from Chennai – the Jayakumars, V V Ramanan, Avinash Mudaliar, Arul Mani and our own Ramkey (“Only when we got on stage did we realize the magnitude of the quiz - when we had a look at the upper-most gallery”: says Ramkey). The quiz itself was an audio-visual treat. From Project 119 – the Chinese target to win 119 gold medals in sports they are weak in, at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, to how the Thyagaraja composition “Chakkani Raja” was used by girls in Thanjavur to communicate their preferences to prospective bridegrooms, the audience was treated to a scintillating brain-war. Time passed in a jiffy and soon, we were at the end of the day - QED had managed to hold off the challenge of the Jayakumars and Avinash, to defend their title.

As we scrambled out of the great hall and made our way to the station, Vinay remarked: “Man! It was worth coming all the way!” (A comfortable sleep in AC first class awaited us) For me, it was a trip down memory lane – to the place where I started quizzing as an amateur. We knew we never stood a chance to qualify for the finals. But still we gave it our best. And perhaps, the greatest gain from the trip was Arindam’s brain-wave, which gave us our new team name: “We came, we saw …we screwed it up.”

”Let there be light”

Black is the colour of life. Life beings in the darkness of the woman’s womb, before exploding into light. Black is also the colour of that endless eternity, which we call “space”. And as the protagonist of the movie “Black” puts it, “Black is the colour of knowledge, education and ceremonies. Like the graduation ceremony, where every student is in the black garb. And nothing is deeper and stronger than knowledge”.

Inspired from the real-life experiences of Helen Keller and her teacher Annie Sullivan, ‘Black’ details the relationship between the blind and deaf Michelle McNally and her teacher Debraj Sahay. Michelle (Ayesha Kapur/Rani Mukherjee) will never see the beauty of what so many of us are blessed to see. In her childhood, Michelle is rendered blind and deaf through an illness. The silent world in which she lives, without any means of communication turns her into a violent and explosive child. Enter Debraj (Amitabh Bachhan), a failed teacher, to lead her to the word of senses. He tries to tame her by paying back in the same coin – through aggression. After initial obstacles, he succeeds – Michelle learns her first words. But the triumph is not over. Debraj dreams of Michelle going to college, and becoming a graduate. However, fate has something more in store – Debraj falls into the grip of Alzheimer’s Disease, and slowly starts to forget everything – even Michelle. Now, the student has to become the teacher.

Amitabh Bachhan and Rani Mukherjee carry the film on their shoulders. This is perhaps Rani’s best performance till date. For those who believe Amitabh has already tried all kinds of roles, the eccentric Debraj Sahay is a revelation. This is his film. Your heart goes out to Shernaz Patel (of UTV fame – remember her?) who plays Michelle’s mother. Nandana Sen passes off fairly as Sarah, Michelle’s sister. However, it is Ayesha Kapur as the little Michelle who steals the show.

Black is a visual treat to watch – the cinematography by Ravi K Chandran is just splendid. The scenes shown in semi-dark conditions, with predominance to black-blue shades add to the beauty of the film. The background music and art direction are excellent – especially the huge sprawling McNally household. Some scenes do stand out – young Michelle’s first lessons on table manners, the incident with the “cake” (“Sometimes having eyes is not of much help” quotes Debraj), the scene where Michelle recognizes her dad and mom, the first signs of Debraj’s encounter with Alzheimer’s Disease, Michelle’s outburst at Sarah’s engagement and her speech at the graduation ceremony. And thankfully, there are no songs to spoil the situations.

So is ‘Black’ the perfect Hindi film that we have dreamed for? Far from it. Rani Mukherjee tends to go a little overboard at times (of course, Helen Keller did not have that cute Charlie Chaplin gait). After a brilliant first half, where the focus is on Michelle’s childhood, the film’s pace slackens considerably in the second half. Perhaps more attention could have been given at Debraj Sahay’s condition. The final scene where Michelle meets her teacher in her graduation robes, does not create the desired effect. I’ve heard that Alzheimer’s Disease does not have a cure. There’s no miraculous “Maa, main dekh sakti hoon” dialogues for Michelle(thanks!). Then why take a different view of Debraj’s disease alone?

Ah! Did I say “Hindi movie” at the start of that paragraph? Most of the characters use predominantly English. “Black” may not appeal to the masses in India, due to it’s sparing use of the national language. Does Sanjay Leela Bhansali believe that movies should be made only for the “Dil-Chahta-Hai” crowd in India? Or is he, through this movie, targeting a specific award that is given every year at the Kodak Theatre in Los Angeles? An Oscar dream might be a trifle too much for “Black”.

All said and done, Black is definitely a path-breaking effort in Indian cinema – a treat to watch for everyone who needs a break from the run-of-the-mill stuff dished out in the name of hindi films

Music review: Bewafaa

Bewafaa boasts of a stellar star cast – Anil Kapoor, Akshay Kumar, Kareena Kapoor, Sushmita Sen, Manoj Bajpai and Shamita Shetty. Behind the screens are Dharmesh Darshan, Boney Kapoor, Sahara One, Nadeem Shravan and Sameer. On top of this, the music album is an assembly of big stars. With such an ensemble, expectations from the film would run high. Fortunately, the music does live up to it – taking you down memory lane, to the days of “Saajan” and “Deewana”. Nadeem Shravan is back in business.

Udit Narayan excels in the opening track – Ek Dilruba Hai. An intensely hummable number, with impressive beats, the song has already gained popularity though the promos shown on the various television channels. There is also a short, slower version of the same song by Shaan – Pyar ki Raahein. The duo continue the good work with Pyaar Ka Anjaam, which strongly reminds you of “Aksar is Duniya Mein” from Dhadkan. Alka Yagnik and Sapna Mukherjee effortlessly carry the song on their shoulders. Even Kumar Sanu’s presence does not spoil the beauty of the song (thankfully!)

Lata Mangeshkar singing for Nadeem Shravan is indeed a rarity! Kaise Piya Se Main Kahun is surely for the Lata fans. A song about the girl waiting for her lover to come home, Lata proves that when it comes to soft romantic number, she’s still a force to reckon with. Lata’s rendering of the song does have the soothing effect of lulling you to sleep. The song, though, does raise the question of “inspiration”. The opening lines remind you of the Godfather theme (more commonly known in India as “Raja Ko Rani Se Pyar Ho Gaya”), and the whole song has a passing resemblance to “Are re Are Yeh Kya Hua” from “Dil To Pagal Hai”. If Lata put to sleep, Ishq Chhupta Nahin is sure to jolt you awake. This is perhaps the best song in the album (there is a similarity to “Tu Is Tarah Se Meri Zindagi Mein” from “Aap To Aise Na The”). Abhijeet’s soft voice is complimented to the hilt by the heavy use of the piano and the background chorus. A semi-ghazal type of number, it takes you back to the golden days of Nadeem Shravan, when they gave us “Mera Dil Bhi Kitna Pagal Hai”. Sheer bliss!

Kehta Hai Kabootar is one song which could well have been avoided. A song for the villain and vamp, this is a “fast-forward number” (no, not that it is a fast number, but because listeners might press the fast forward button), and could well destroy the whole mood of the album. If it doesn’t do so, the credit should go to the brilliance of Shaan and Asha Bhonsle, for getting into the skin of the characters. Watch out for the dialogues mouthed by these two in this number!

If Udit Narayan softened you up with Ek Dilruba Hai, Sonu Nigam will deliver the knockout punch with another version of the same song - Ek Bewafa Hai. The song has a thumping effect on the listener. The heavy orchestration with the excellent chorus lifts the song to great heights. Sonu Nigam perfectly conveys the anguish of the jilted lover with his controlled voice. The use of the guitars and drums are exhilarating.

First Lata Mangeshkar, then Asha Bhonsle, and now, Nadeem Shravan pull a rabbit out of the hat – Ghulam Ali’s voice says it all! Yaad Yaad Teri Yaad is sheer poetry to the ears. Nadeem Shravan have really pulled out a ground coup. Instead of restricting the song to a pure ghazal, they add their trademark touch with the chorus and orchestra, which makes the song more lovable. There are two instrumental pieces that follow the song - a lovely piano/keyboard verison of Kaise Piya Se Main Kahun and an impressive Drum Beats piece.

The fact that there are so many singers proves to be a blessing for Bewafaa. With different voices, there is freshness in each song. Perhaps the most notable feature about the album is the musical arrangement by the duo. The excellent orchestration of the songs stand out! Sameer’s lyrics are, as usual, splendid.

Bewafaa is certainly no Veer-Zaara or Kisna, and may not appeal to the masses. But for the romantic at heart, who used to adore the songs of the recent past when Nadeem Shravan ruled the roost in the industry, Bewafaa is a must buy.

Woh Bhooli Daastan…: Music review of Veer-Zaara

He is considered to be one of the most influential directors in Bollywood. A Yash Chopra film is eagerly awaited by Hindi film buffs all over the world. After delivering such musical extravaganzas like Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Dil To Pagal Hai and Mohabbatein in the recent past, Chopra has now pulled a magic rabbit out of the hat – the Late Madan Mohan, for his new venture: Veer-Zaara.

Who can forget the great man, who has given us such heavenly numbers as Unko Yeh Shikayat Hai (Adalat),Lag Ja Gale, Naina Barse Rhim Jhim (Woh Kaun Thi), Main To Tum Sang Nain Milake (Man Mauji), Nainon Mein Badra Chhaye, Tu Jahan Chalega (Mera Saaya), Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Saathiyon (Haqeeqat), Dil Dhoondhta Hai (Mausam), and many more..? Yash Chopra’s trump card, Veer-Zaara - starring Shah Rukh Khan, Preity Zinta and Rani Mukherjee – uses the maestro’s unutilized compositions, recreated by his son, Sanjeevsanjeev Kohli. The album could not have come at a better time, as another high-profile Shah Rukh starrer, Swades (from the ‘Lagaan’ team: Ashutosh Gowarikar – A R Rahman-Javed Akhtar), lines up to steal the thunder.

The album starts off with the slow and soothing Tere Liye. The piano music at the start of the song has already been featured in the various promos of the movie on the television. The number seems to be a kind of theme song for the whole movie. Rather than turning out into a sad “Judaai” song, it turns into a song about hope for the waiting lovers. The captivating voices of Roop Kumar Rathod and Lata Mangeshkar make the song immensely likeable.

The next track, Main Yahan Hoon starts off slowly, but builds into a real peppy number. After Sonu Nigam took the country by storm in “Kal Ho Na No” and “Main Hoon Na”, Udit Narayan is back as “the voice of the Khan”. A typical “Shah Rukh Khan song”, this is Udit Narayanudit narayan at his best. He carries the song on his shoulders. You can almost picturize the yellow-coloured fields of Punjab (remember DDLJ?) while losing yourself in Udit’s voice (Incidently, the popular Punjabi number “Laung Gawacha” can be heard during the interlude).

The classical Punjabi voice of Gurdas Mann opens the song Aisa Desh Hai Mera, before Udit Narayan takes over. I don’t need to describe the result, with the heavy dhol beats complementing the tabla in the background. The song talks about the colours and sounds of rural India. The song reminds the singer of another great Yash Chopra song – “Ghar Aaja Pardesi Tera Desh Bulaye”.. The superb lyrics are a cake walk such an accomplished poet as Javed Akhtar. Lata joins in the end with a touch of the “Indo-Pak” bhai-bhai mood. The girl says: “My country is no different from yours” (Wahi shaam hai wahi savera, aisa hi desh hai mera). Prita Majumdar also lends her voice in the interludes.

Hum Aa Gaye Hai Kahan is another romantic Lata-Udit number. The lyrics may sound like it is Yeh-Kahan-Aa-Gaye-Hum Part II, but the song is far from it. The music is arranged and the song literally cries out that it belongs to a Yash Chopra movie. It reminds us of the various melodious numbers we have enjoyedenjoys in movies such as Mohabbatein, Dil To Pagal Hai etc. A sure fire chart-topper.

Do Pal is Sonu Nigam’s first song of the album. A slow romantic duet with Lata Mangeshkar, Sonu’s voice brings out the emotions of loss expressed so brilliantly by Javed Akhtar’s lyrics:
Tum the ke thi koi ujli kiran, tum the ya koi kali muskayi thi?
Tum the ya sapnon ka tha sawan, tum thethey ya khushiyon ki ghata chhayi thi?

Yash Chopra wields the microphone in Kyon Hawa, reminiscent of Amitabh’s “Main aur meri tanhayee” from Silsila (“…behti hui zindagi, jaise har pal nayi…aur phir bhi wohi, haan wohi zindagi, jiske daaman mein koi mohabbat bhi hai, koi hasrat bhi hai…- sounds familiar doesn’t it?). Sonu Nigam takes over from there. His lilting voice expresses the excitement of first love. And the result is, perhaps, the best song in the album!

The album picks up a sudden pace with Hum To Bhai Jaise Hai. A song meant to echo the free spirit of the girl – “I am like this only, and will remain like this only”. However, the voice of Lata Mangeshkar sounds out of place in such a song.

The next number is a traditional qawwali – Aaya Tere Dar Par Deewana, effortlessly rendered by Mohammed and Ahmad Hussain. The lyrics give an indication that the song might be featured in the climax, akin to another Shah Rukh qawwali – “Ho Gaya Hai Mujhe Pyar”” from Shah Rukh.

Gurdas Mann steals the show in Lodi, a chhed-chhad Punjabi song, featuring Mann, Lata and Udit Narayan. Compared to the remixed cacophony that is dished out in the name of Punjabi, it is refreshing to hear such a classical Punjabi song. The lyrics seem to be written with Amitabh Bachhan and Hema Malini in mind (who, I believe, are part of the movie). However, Lata again sounds out of place in the song. With the presence of Shah Rukh in the film, one cannot help a comparison to songs such as “Mehndi Lagake Rakhna” and “Soni Soni Ankhiyonwali”.

The last two tracks in the CD do not appear in the film and have been recorded specially for the album. However, after hearing them, one wonders why they haven’t been featured. The first one – Tum Paas Aa Rahe Ho – is a romantic duet featuring Lata and that master of slow songs: Jagjit Singh. The second song Jaane Kyon is a Lata solo. A slow song, it reminds one rather of the slow numbers which captured the imagination of the listeners in the 1960s1970s.

Without any doubt, Veer-Zaara comes as a whiff of fresh air amongst all the techno stuff which is dished out in the name of “remixes” nowadays. As it happened with me, the music might not captivate you right at the first listening. But on repeated listening, it grows on you. Perhaps the only disadvantage of the album is that, it has the “ghost of DDLJ” hovering around the songs. On repeated hearing, you cannot help, but feel the similarity. But perhaps, that is the magic of Yash Chopra and Shah Rukh Khan.

The album also has a CD called ‘The Making of Veer-Zaara’, in Madanji’s own voice, as he leads the listener through the tunes, as if he is explaining them to the singers. A listener will appreciate the album more after hearing these. The songs are appealing to both the old and the young – they have the magical touch of the yesteryears, as well as the melody of the new-age music that we are so familiar with through Yash Chopra’s fulms. Woh Bhooli Daastan (the (forgotten tale) of the Late Madan Mohan is definitely a must-buy for all music lovers.…

Review of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The curious incident of the dog in the night-time, by Mark Haddon – the latest book in the “Best Sellers” list – is tells the story of 15 year old Christopher John Francis Boone. Christopher knows all the countries of the world and their capitals, and every prime number up to 7,057. He relates well to animals, but cannot understand human emotions. He lives on patterns, rules and timetables. Then one day, his neighbour’s dog, Wellington, is killed and his carefully constructed universe is threatened.

“The Curious….” is not yet another Catcher-in-the-Rye. Christopher is not a rebel against the establishment. He is a (rather eccentric) genius and loves mathematics. He lives with his father, but is always in an autistic world of his own. His only confidant is his teacher, Siobhan, and his only friend is his pet rat, Toby. He dislikes a lot of things - people touching him, crowds, France, the colours yellow and brown (he refuses to touch anything that is yellow or brown), …and telling lies. Wellington’s death changes his world, and Christopher sets out to solve the murder in the style of his favourite (logical) detective Sherlock Holmes – a decision which leads him on an adventure to London, and learn the truth about his mother. All’s well that ends well, as Christopher gets what he wants.

Haddon’s narrative takes us through the mind of the 15-year old genius, as if one were reading the child’s diary. It has a remarkable freshness. He holds the reader to the book, with his expert weaving of the thoughts of the boy into paper. Christopher is too logical to understand about love and emotion. He looks at the physical world as it is. He cannot comprehend the complexity of the relationships around him. To an extent, Christopher’s selfishness – he just wants to sit for his A Level Maths exam - is impervious to the explosive emotional situations around him – and it is this selfishness that saves him and his family, in the end.

The narrative is interspersed with Christopher’s random thoughts – the universe, the prime numbers, why “The Hound of Baskervilles” is such a great book, The Monty Hall Problem, why the number of frogs in a pond keep varying year by year, and so on. The readers lose themselves in Christopher’s magical world of numbers.

Maybe there have been better works on children, such as “The Catcher in the Rye” or “To Kill a Mocking Bird”. But “The Curious…” is not far behind – it’s definitely a must read.



The curious incident of the dog in the night-time – the title of the book is taken from the Sherlock Holmes story, Silver Blaze. Holmes is investigating the disappearance of the race horse, Silver Blaze.

He brings to the notice of Dr. Watson,”The curious incident of the dog in the night-time”.

Watson says: "The dog did nothing in the night-time."
"That was the curious incident," remarks Sherlock Holmes.

The ICC Champions Trophy: A Sports Diary

Fri, 10/09/04: It’s back to SET Max and you-know-who…And what better way to enjoy it than sit at home on a week’s vacation? The fare meted out is not much to talk about, though. To their credit, the USA starts off well, strangling the Kiwis in the initial overs, before Astle and McMillan run berserk. At Edgbaston, Zimbabwe (who even lost to the US in a practice match a few days earlier), threaten to make a match out of a mismatch against England. The Englishmen look as if they are on the Silverstone racecourse, rather than a cricket pitch – and then, rain intervenes.

Sat 11/09/04: A big day for India – from what Mandira and Co. reckons. This is nothing short of Armageddon. Nothing much has changed…Ganguly feasts on the Kenyan attack, and Dravid gets what he wanted – the wicket keeping gloves off his hand. Nothing has changed…certainly not Sehwag (don’t ask me what he was planning to do with that shot) and Agarkar. Rather than bowl out Kenya and get some valuable “net run rate”, Ganguly prefers to give his dibbly-dobblies a go at the Kenyans. India wins by 98 runs, and Mandira is now talking of how the team is ‘gelling as a unit” and is “back to winning days”.

Sun 12/09/04: It’s raining here in Cochin. But it certainly is not raining runs. Bangladesh doesn’t cross 100. The match is over before the blink of an eye. The only thing worth watching is Mandira’s dress – the straps are getting thinner each day. Today’s the thinnest! Eagerly waiting for tomorrow….

Mon 13/09/2004: Disappointment! Mandira comes “fully dressed”. The Aussies go about dissecting the US. There’s a hilarious moment on the field though. Nasir Javed, on his debut for the US, is rapped on the pads the third ball he faces. A vociferous appeal from Jason Gillespie is turned down. Arun Lal offers his expert comments: “Javed has this habit of putting his foot forward in the line of the delivery”. ‘Habit’???

Tue 14/09/2004: This tournament has so far had the misfortune of putting people to sleep. Sri Lanka seems to be sleepwalking through their game against Zimbabwe, until Elton Chigumbura sounds a rude wake-up call. To their credit, the Lankans don’t fall off to sleep again.

Wed 15/09/2004: Oh dear! I’m forced to miss the matches on TV.

Thu 16/09/2004: The first of the big matches. The Trans-Tasman tussle may not be an Indo-Pak rivalry, but the Aussies have always found New Zealand, a thorn in their flesh. Nathan Astle starts off from where he stopped against the US. Soon, he’s brought back to the earth by the ‘old lion’ – McGrath. The rest of the Kiwis follow (remember the ‘bicycle stand’?). Charu Sharma rants and raves about how totals in the 190s are viewed skeptically by teams all over the world. The Aussies don’t seem to agree. With all the spend-your-time-at-the-crease-runs-will-automatically-come talk going around, Andrew Symonds belts his first scoring shot into the stands. Its game, set and match.

Fri 17/09/2004: The hide-and-seek for TV rights continues in India. A different hide-and-seek is being witnessed in the England – this involves the weather. The Sri Lankan fielding looks as if they have come straight off an Amul Butter ad. Undeterred by the fielding, the Sri Lankan bowlers toil to reduce England to 118/3, before rain intervenes. It seems like the English honeymoon is finally over – but the “Great White Hope” (read as Andrew Flintoff) is still there at the crease.

Sat 18/09/2004: You don’t drop Freddie and get away with it, as Mahela Jayawardene finds out. Soon it begins to rain sixes. The Lankans would have liked to go off citing bad weather. They do…but by then it’s too late. They are saved the blushes of being bowled out for a paltry total!
Somewhere else, South Africa seems to be applying the screws on the West Indies. Herschelle Gibbs comes good at last – thanks to a pizza he has eaten – but all the good work is undone by some “not-so-dangerous” bowlers – like Chris Gayle. And when everything seems to point to an interesting encounter, rain intervenes for the umpteenth time.

Sun 19/09/2004: Mandira is wearing the National Flag, and that means its D-Day!! Due to my lousy vacation plans, I’ll be traveling when the action takes place! In the bus, I’m forced to watch “Chori Chori Chupke Chupke” (that too for the third time)! By the time I receive the shocking news, I take solace from the fact that watching anything is better than watching India lose to Pakistan.

Tue 21/09/2004: You just can’t understand the English! “Bring on the Aussies!”, they shouted throughout the summer. And when the Aussies are brought on, half the ground is empty. What begins as Flintoff v Aussies, soon turns into England v Australia. Freddie is lucky to get a bat in the middle. For England, it’s time to party. For the Aussies, the jinx continues…

Wed 22/09/2004: Forget India or Australia. There’s nothing better than to see Pakistan losing! Brian Lara can’t hide his smile after Inzamam-ul-Haq, lazily, opts to bat after winning the toss. It’s all over by the time I reach home.

Sat 25/09/2004: It’s the big day. It’s England’s party, and the West Indies is not invited. The celebrations have already begun at the Oval, as Shivnarine Chanderpaul holes out to Michael Vaughan in the covers. It’s just the bowlers - Ian Bradshaw and Corey Collymore - to come, and victory is just around the corner. But the West Indies have a last ace up their sleeves. Along with Courtney Browne, Bradshaw begins to plod around, picking up singles. Harmison and Flintoff come and go. Incredibly, the West Indians survive. Soon, confidence turns to desperation for England. Darren Gough comes in for a last hurray – for him, the world ends not in a bang, but a whimper. Alex Wharf is the last hope. And that’s exactly what he turns out to be – the ‘last hope’. Five balls later, the Bradshaw goes on his knees and thumps the air. What a win!!
But spare a thought for the others who tried…A magnificent century from Marcus Trescothick, which gave England a fighting chance; A stingy spell by Wavell Hinds, that broke the back of the English middle order; Brian Lara, who threw himself at every ball that came his way; Shivnarine Chanderpaul’s brave innings holding up one end; Andrew Strauss’s one handed effort to dismiss Ramnaresh Sarwan; Stephen Harmison and Andrew Flintoff’s fiery spells; and last, but not the least, spare a thought for ‘The King of Spain’ (as Ashley Giles was mistakenly referred to on the the mugs in the Edgbaston Shop), who after mounting that rescue act with Trescothick, never even got a bowl! A blazing finale to a damp(literally) tournament.

Sun 26/07/2004: The Champions’ Trophy is now forgotten. We are still not sure whether we’ll get to see any more cricket action this year, be it against Australia (courtesy BCCI-Zee-ESPN) or against South Africa (courtesy Gibbs-Boje). But then cricket’s no more the flavour of the day. The country is more interested in Tennis…yeah, me too.

Can someone tell me what the heck a “tennis elbow” is?

P.S: The opinions expressed in the above diary are those of a frustrated cricket fan, and cannot be generalized to any group of individuals