Misguided nation?

Krishna Prasad outdoes himself again with a brilliant article talking about the lack of VIP-representation at Field Marshal Manekshaw's funeral yesterday. The fact that the man was celebrated (in life, and in death) by the men who served with/under him, and by the common man, speaks volumes about his greatness. We don't need really need the cliched statements of politicians which have the usual sprinkling of words - 'great soldier', 'service to the nation', 'soul rest in peace'.
I have said this before and I say this again: we are a nation with a majorly short short-term memory, although Mr. B. Raman contends that we are a nation with NO MEMORY! The press is probably also at fault - especially when they prefer to cover the arrival of a person of (possibly) questionable integrity and honor, instead of paying tribute to some of the bravest men who have lost their lives protecting the nation.
The fact that the politicians/VIPs could not spare time to pay tribute (in person) to the Field Marshal does not take away anything from the greatness of the man, but speaks more about the politicians/VIPs. Much as I was disappointed by this (lack of VIPs, not the article!), I am sure the immediate family preferred it that way. He was a gentleman who valued his privacy, I'm sure, which probably explains why he settled in Wellington, as far away from Delhi as he could possibly get! The Field Marshal was a man of integrity I'm sure , and he must be smiling that sly smile of his sitting up there, as if to say "I'm glad you never came to see me at the end!".
In the much-used words of Kipling, he was a man who walked with kings and yet didn't lose his common touch!

R.I.P "Sam Bahadur"

The first time I encountered him, he was the 'gentleman with the handlebar mustache' sitting in the seat behind me on the flight to Coimbatore.
The second time our paths crossed, he was sitting in the first-class section and got royal treatment when he got off the flight at Peelamedu.
By the time I ran into him again about a year later, I had heard/read a little about the war of 1971 - largely thanks to the Doordarshan serial on the men who have won the Param Vir Chakra. The initials were etched in my mind - SHFJ, a rather long name. So when my father told me at the airport that the gentleman sitting alone in the front row (whom we had seen so often) was the indomitable Field Marshal, I was finally (knowingly) meeting a legend. As he sat blissfully enjoying his peace in the newly renovated Coimbatore airport, this 15 year old gawky guy decided to wish the great man and request his autograph.
Sam Bahadur Sahab being Sam Bahadur Sahab wanted to know why I wanted 'an autograph of this old man". "Go chase the cricketers", he said. Sometimes in the presence of true greatness, your tongue turns to water and I cannot remember what I said, except for a few disjointed words about 'great hero of India'. All the same, he was gracious enough to sign and wish me well in growing up and serving the nation well.
The last time I saw him was on the afternoon of August 30th 2003 - the day I left home for the US. I was expecting to see some actor/actress on their way to a shoot in Ooty. As always, the flight (from Bombay) came to a halt a short distance away from the main terminal and I stared into the distance to watch the passengers disembark. A familiar gentleman, his trademark white handlebars still perfectly in place, walked (fairly) ramrod straight from the aircraft to the main terminal. As he got closer, I realized it was Field Marshal Manekshaw and I smiled to myself. I am fairly sure very few people recognized him, since he just walked undisturbed (no pesky teenagers bothering him) and handed over his bag to the armyman who was waiting to receive the great man. And then they exited the terminal and probably drove off into the Nilgiris.
At the risk of sounding corny/cliched, one of India's greatest sons moved on to Elysian Fields today. India forgets her true hero(ine)s too often and too easily. Our true heros are not necessarily the blokes who can hold a bat and hit a ball, but the brave (wo)men who have put their lives at risk/laid down their lives in many a battlefield not just in India, but all over the world. For every Sam Manekshaw, there is a Rifleman Manoj Kumar and a Lance Naik Karam Singh.
Field Marshal Sam Hormusji Framji Jamshedji Manekshaw, R.I.P!

The weed and the monkey

It was a firecracker waiting to explode, and when it finally did, we had Sreesanth shedding crocodile's tears and an Harbhajan being well.....obnoxious! A lot has been written about it, and I'm guessing Sreesanth better shoulder his share of the blame.

We all know Harbhajan and his disciplinary problems, but the fact remains that more often than not he has been a good bowler, letting his bowling do the talking and generally gives back only as good as he receives (which probably is human). Sreesanth on the other hand, as the Hindustan Times wrote this morning, is more a 'showman than sportsman'.

They really hit the nail on the head, describing him as an 'attention seeking problem-child'. I have seen the same happen with a cousin of mine, who always loved provoking everyone while playing cricket (and of course crying when he got it nice and hard) and like many a kid threw a typhoon of a tantrum whenever he got out.

There's no excuse for being obnoxious, however great one may be, and Sreesanth is on par with Bhajji on the 'obnoxiometer'. It's rather creepy to hear him talk about himself in the third person, and his innate ability to rile his own team-mates must be frustrating for the Indian cricket team/coaches. I don't know if he ever sat down with a (sports) psychologist and discussed matters, and I'm guessing even the best in the business would tear their hair out trying to figure out the stuff Sreesanth is made of!

I'm waiting to see what the final decision on the matter is.

PS: Has anyone found a resemblance between Curious George and Sreesanth?

IPL blues

The IPL has a become the key focus of cricket lovers over the past week - some debating its raison d'etre (1,2,3), while more recently it's been the Sreesanth-Harbhajan controversy.

With regards to the idea of the whole tournament, I think that whoever invented T20 was undoubtedly smart. The days when people would faithfully sit next to their radio and listen to the commentary of many a stalwart, are long gone by (it's a different story that the radio commentators of this day are rather strange). Today, we multi-task and are perpetually on the run, so if we could condense the usual 90-overs of a test match (or 50-overs of an ODI, for that matter) minus all the dot balls into a T20 slugfest, then we have a game on! Oh, and we get to see our dream XIs, often seen only in exhibition games, actually become reality (imagine Dhoni, Hayden and Hussey on the same team!). (Note: I was wondering if anyone remembers those exhibition games organized by MRF in the late 80s, where the Windies played against a World XI in India?).

Despite the whole idea of dream teams becoming reality, the concept/skills on display are rather unappealing. According to me, I might tend to agree with Dr. Ramachandra Guha, who wrote:

“In my opinion, Test cricket may be compared to the finest Scotch, 50-overs a side to Indian Made Foreign Liquor, and 20-20 to the local hooch.
“The addict who cannot have the first or the second will make do with the last.
“The pleasures of the shortest game are intense but also wholly ephemeral. There is no time to savour delights offered in such a rushed and heady fashion. The medium form allows one to take in the booze more leisurely…. After spending a whole day at the cricket one can, as it were, remember individual sips of the drink that one has consumed. On the other hand, after a Twenty20 game, all one remembers is that one got drunk, and one’s side won, or lost….
“So long as only hooch is on offer, I will not be seen anywhere near a television set broadcasting a cricket match. I will resume my drinking habits once the IMFL and the Scotch reappear on the menu.”

I do plead guilty to watching a few games, but have been left with an overall sense of disappointment. One of the prime reasons has been the 'money factor', which I think has been grossly over-exaggerated - I cannot fathom how David Hussey makes more money than his more accomplished sibling "Mr. Cricket" Michael Hussey! Although one may draw parallels with soccer, I think the 'masala' component (cheerleaders and all) of the IPL tends to eclipse the cricket.

It is also painful to watch some really good players like Dravid, Jaffer and Laxman simply struggle to adjust to the demands of this game. They're just not cut out for it! And to top it all, Dravid has been bestowed with a 'player/icon' status! Laxman atleast had the magnanimity to give up his icon status, so that his team could spend the money on buying better players!

Separated at birth?

I just realized there was a strong resemblance between two coaches of the Indian hockey team, Vasudevan Bhaskaran & Joaquim Carvalho!

Alumni loyalties

As usual, Sunil takes the lead and I follow - same issue, different perspective, similar conclusions! Some folks might say I lack originality!
The Old Campionites Association (OCA) sent me an invite to their annual reunion bash (always held at the RWITC) the other day. Much as I would have loved to attend, sitting so many miles away I will have to wait to see the snaps dutifully put up on the OCA website post-March 1st. Going through the OCA website (and Patrick's too), one can't but help feel nostalgic about the times we all shared in the corridors of 13, Cooperage Road. Seeing today's titans (or Campion Champions, as they have been baptized) as little bacchhas in shorts, is amusing to say the least. Every photograph is a throwback to an era that we wished would end (let's face it, all said and done, no one liked school when we were kids), but a decade later we realize the true value of the times we spent there, and the friendships we forged.
Unlike Sunil, I am fortunate to have evaded the clutches of the University Alumni Association (or whatever moniker it goes by). Sunil was very lucky to have been part of a semi-autonomous institute/center (part of the University though), which (to an outsider/semi-insider like me) had its own 'set of rules'. But then I guess everyone had to deal with the overall bureaucracy. If Sunil gripes about his professors, then I can't say much about the ones I was taught by. Some were genuinely nice people, but the majority were mini-Hitlers. The 'great visionary' Sunil referred to taught us a course in the third/fourth semester, which is best remembered for the strict dress-code he tried to enforce and which we tried our best to ignore. And then we had to deal with the newly implemented system of TAs in our final year - an interesting move, but something which backfired miserably! I can emphatically state that most of them didn't really know their stuff well enough and most of us had this air of indifference over the whole thing.
And that is where I see the clear difference between universities here and 99% of the ones back home. The Indian education system is such, that it hinders creativity and thinking through/analyzing the whole process (something I plead guilty to on occasion). We are all 'pushed' with the idea of becoming doctors/engineers, that we learn by rote and regurgitate it with unfailing efficiency on the exam answer sheets. Even in college, we had a set of courses that we have to take and there was little room to pick and choose electives; unlike out here where choosing coursework is almost like a distraction! I strongly believe that a lot of us lacked a strong mentor in our department, who could guide us and help us focus on our professional development better. Of course it's another story when it comes to the fact that some of the professors who taught us had PhDs from our own department, but had this arrogant air about them, as if they had Ivy League PhDs. The lab technicians were fun blokes to talk to - quite unassuming folks - and they often knew more about the chemicals/experiments than the professors themselves.
But looking back at the four years I spent there, I made some good friends, acquired a taste for some amazing music, and hopefully learned something at the professional level. I am sure I will have a good time going back to the old haunts and remembering the good ol' days - as I once chuckled: "Every lamp-post has it's own story to tell".
And so, going back to the issue of loyalties, I think I have a decent sense of loyalty to every institute I have attended. They have played a role (big/small?) in shaping me into something more concrete compared to the wide-eyed tyke who walked up the steps of an institution with a glorious past (and I dare say, uncertain future) almost a decade ago.

Film-stars and freebies

In this week's issue TIME called George Clooney the "last movie star". I'd agree with their words whole-heartedly, as Clooney is a throwback to a long-gone era when leading men had an air of incorrigible charm about them (Cary Grant, for example). Today's A couple of lines caught my attention, especially since it's Oscar season (or rather day).

So he has either turned down every gift bag he's been offered or has put them up on eBay for charity. "I've been smart about that. Rich famous people getting free s___ looks bad. You look greedy. And I don't need a cell phone with sparkles on it," he says. He sends handwritten apology letters to the directors whose scenes he ripped off in the movies he directed—Mike Nichols, Sidney Lumet, Sydney Pollack.

Quite a few websites are agog over a variety of celebrities (mostly small fry, imho) actually queuing up for the freebies! I sometimes wonder why they even need the freebies, especially jeans and tops and stuff one can usually buy in any mall! And yes....why would any guy be seen with a glitter-covered cellphone!

According to USA Today:

"The bag, given to presenters at the 78th Annual Academy Awards, included a BlackBerry 8700c, a Kay Unger kimono and a cultured Tahitian-pearl necklace. Clooney also took home another prize — best supporting actor for Syriana."

May be George just didn't fancy the idea of the kimono and necklace!

Sayonara Crawford

I was pleasantly surprised to read the headline "Crawford crawls to a historical death" on Rediff this morning! Considering the fact that I have been on a Greek/Roman epic watching spree (Troy, 300, Gladiator), replete with some very beautiful women, I thought Cindy Crawford was doing a period-movie.

It was only when I read the article, that I found that the author was referring to Crawford Market, which occupies an important place in the architectural marvels of South Bombay. It's right next to the Bombay Police Commissioner's office and maybe a mile from the Victoria Terminus. And yes, like VT, it too has been renamed as the Mahatma Phule Market. To think that it is going to be replaced by another ubiquitous mall surely makes a lot of Bombay-wallahs like me sad.

Having been there many a time during my days in Bombay, I have fond memories of the place. It had an amazing fruit and vegetable collection - I can still remember how we used to buy figs and lychees for a family friend in Coimbatore before our annual summer trip down south. And while we walked around in the April heat, we drank in the aroma of the various mangoes in their straw-packed boxes, the King Alphonso ruling over all!

As a kid, every time we drove past Crawford Market, I always looked up at the wind-vane atop the market, just to see which way the wind was blowing. I don't know if I will see it again, but I do know which way it points - in the direction of the winds of change!