aditya kumar's weblog

Found this in the “More About Myself” section is one of the “bride” profiles in one of the many matrimonial websites. Trust me, I have copied and pasted it here, as is (including the dots) :

My Personality, Long-Term Goals, Partner Expectations, etc:

  
well will tell you……….. when i like you……………… or else no never………………………..

Hmmm…

That colored me surprised. Or Did it? Well, renders me speechless, for sure.

Back in 2001, when Steve Waugh’s men toured India, they were in a similar position as Ponting’s men now. The team was on a roll and had created a record of sorts with their consecutive test wins. It took an epic test match and a monumental innings to put an end to something which had been nothing less of a supreme, majestic run.

Ponting’s men have showed, time and again, an insatiable appetite for winning but what differentiates them from Steve Waugh’s team is that these bunch of players don’t seem to have a taste for dignity and fair play. It is an ominous sign, when a sportsman starts to think of himself greater than the game. Its worse when eleven of them do that, while the captain leads them from the front.

Bad umpiring is one thing and playing with integrity is another. He may not like it, but it does raise a question on Ponting’s integrity. It does not matter if, in the past, he has walked off without looking at the umpire after he knew he was gone or if he admitted of an unclean catch. It usually seems a matter of his convenience. Its evident that the Australian captain has started to think of himself as larger than the Game.

Bad umpiring did sink India but what has come as a rude shock is the attitude of the opponents, who, almost ironically, pride themselves for the spirit they carry for the game. They look like a teenager with a gun.

If Steve Waugh were at the helm of affairs, would things be the same? Perhaps not. Not only do The Australians lack a batsman of his class, they will always be deprived of the golden legacy that Waugh left behind. Michael Clarke, the guy often pitted to be next in line for captaincy is no Mr.Clean, his babyface looks notwithstanding.

I have always maintained that ICC could well be the weakest sports body in the world. There is laid back attitude that has always been a trademark of the council. This is not the first time that umpires, single-handedly, have been instrumental in changing the course of a game of cricket at the highest level. But the test match could well be important for the simple reason that it is indeed the first time when so many wrong decisions have collectively defeated a team that was well placed on 3 out of the 5 days of a test match and at one stage sniffed a real chance of victory. Why then, do we persist with umpires that are responsible for undoing of this magnitude? Why, do we not hear cricket umpires being warned, let alone be penalized. Why, at the end of each season, can’t the ICC show videos of their crimes to these umpires and seek an explanation? Would that be technology put to use or would the cricket traditionalists call it yet another tech-abuse?

Either way, we’ll only know the answers if the supreme body of Cricket may seek them.

While it was on, it was a horror show. Now that its over, The Sydney test was nothing less than a crying shame. It was a mockery, an abuse of the Game.

For now, it certainly sounds better to loose with dignity intact than to win with soiled, dirty hands in the mire. I have no doubt, a certain Anil Kumble will agree.

From the archives, this post originally written almost 3 years back, in February 2005, deserves a comeback. I am posting it as is, again.

“Thats the James Bond Beach”, said my sister.

“Thats the what bond beach?” I asked, my face giving a convincing, confused look not sure about what I just heard.

“James Bond Beach”.

My mind raced back to all the James Bond movies I had seen, the last 4. I could not even recall a single movie scene shot in India. Bond in India? At this place? How come I do not know about it.

“Why is it called that?”, the confused look on my face has transformed into a curious one.

“Oh its not called that. I call it that. Because, you know, it gives a feeling of how a typical beach is, in Bond movies. Blue water, silver sand, no one around, a seemingly private beach. colorful fishing boats beyond the coastline. The James Bond beach.”

She was right. This looked strikingly similar to one of those. It was probably the most beautiful sea shore I had ever seen in my life.

And for the third time in the last few minutes, the look on my face was changed to a convincing one. Yes, the James Bond beach. I was now staring with gleaming eyes on the waves, crashing on the silver sand, as if, in a matter of seconds, a bikini clad Halle Barry would just pop up from nowhere between the waves. The Bond-James Bond, Beach.

I am talking about a place called Karwar, a small town in the northern coast of Karnataka, a 150 km drive from Goa. I have stayed more than half of my life on the coast, and this was, quite easily, the best seashore I had ever seen. The water was bluer than the sky. The sun shone on the white sand, washing it and left it glimmering like silver. The sea was calm, as if pretending to me, that it has always been like this. Like storms, cyclones and the recent tsunami, were strangers to this sailors grave. “It wasn’t me”, as if the sea was telling me. The waves, calm and blue on the surface of the sea. But just before they crashed on the white sand, they suddenly turned green, as if venting some hidden anger only to be released in small quantities at regular intervals so that it goes unnoticed by anyone not paying attention. The anger, it holds inside, I said to myself. Behind me was the Navy establishment giving it the look of a private beach. And no one on the shore. Just the sea and somewhere on the horizon, the deep blue sea and the pale blue sky met. Nothing at all in sight. A sight to remember. It was like a hidden treasure, in the vicinity of the Naval authorities and away from the already little tourist attraction this city receives. It had no name, so we call it The James Bond Beach. The “Bond. James Bond” Beach.