aditya kumar's weblog

Now, I don’t normally do this but sometimes we all do some things without any reason.

Some songs have it in them to take you to another era, some other time of your life. Apparently, the song I am talking about also happens to be the only song that I have ever volunteered to dance on.

This song is originally by Ryan Adams, performed by The Corrs and Bono- the result is the best duet I have ever experienced. So allow me to present some words from this beautiful song.

Never before has the spirit of the game been captured in such an entirety, in such a wholesome state.

England has won the Ashes after 17 years.

It all went down the wire in the end. Ultimately it was Kevin Pietersen’s mighty willow blade that prevailed over the seam of the likes of McGrath, Lee and the Great Warne. Before lunch, there was a good chance of an Aussie comeback with England reeling at 126/5 and Flintoff, the hero of the series, back in the pavilion. In normal circumstances one would have thought it was all a matter of how long the England tail wags.

But this group of Englishmen, in more ways than one, have been different than their predecessors and this was not just another game.

At lunch time, an Aussie comeback could be imagined for the kind of cricket we have been treated to this English summer, anything could be possible and predicting a winner would almost be a sin.

Kevin Pietersen, as it turned out, had other ideas. Playing in his first test series and riding on a lucky horse that refused to bog down, Pietersen hit a flamboyant 158. Flamboyant because in a game so tense, he unleashed an array of boundaries, 22 in total and 7 out of them which directly landed over the boundary rope- and then we all came to know, Pietersen has more to style than his weird hair color. His partnership with Ashley Giles ultimately proved to be the deciding factor of this exciting game.

Giles’s time at the crease was well spent and his innings out there in the park could only be compared to his gutsy and, eventually proving decisive, batting in the Trent Bridge match which made England lead 2-1 in the series.

One should not take the credit away from Australia- they have been praiseworthy all this while. They have lost to a better opposition, a deserving team led by a highly capable leader in Vaughan. If it was not because of the Australians, we would have witnessed one sided cricket and truth be told, there is a lot that can be learnt by watching the Australians go down- the spirit they play with, the hunger for success and the undying fight they put up. I dare say, these attributes are new found for the English team but it seems every Australian cricketer is born with them.

On a personal note, our Indian Cricket Team can’t win like the Aussies- but if they start losing like them, it would be less grieving for us fans.

And who can forget the Great Shane Warne. Playing his last test on the English soil- the same soil on which he bowled the “ball of the century”, 12 years ago, it was an irony he ended up in the losing side. Though claiming 12 wickets in the match and bowling his heart out in the middle- in the end it was just not enough.

The Ashes is back with England. But perhaps more importantly, the cricket fever, the cricket euphoria that England has been so deprived of in the last two decades is back there, where it belongs.

I say again, never before has the spirit of the game been captured in such an entirety, in such a wholesome state.

[Above: Flintoff and Geraint Jones exult as the umpires remove the bails, marking an End to the Ashes Series. Image from The BBC.]

Many writers and travellers have been left amused and enough literature and travelogues have been written on the city of Bombay that I wonder if I would be able to do justice while I attempt to tell you my experiences when I visited the city recently. I was not a tourist. This is home away from home.

On 23 July 2005, 3 days before the Bombay cloudburst, the city was as sunny and sweaty as it could be. I guess the pictures suggest that.


[Above: The Flora Fountain]

Nostalgic crossroads, these on the Flora Fountain. It was 15 years ago, I used to have ice-cream cones, at least a couple of them- A bribe my mother paid me to keep quiet while she took her time shopping and bargaining with the cloth merchants. And I was always fascinated by the glass entrance of the Vimal Showroom that slid open as I walked towards it. But in 1990, this could happen only in Bombay. I also wondered what “Akbarallys” exactly sold. At one end of the Flora Fountain, towards Churchgate was the street of pavement booksellers. All the books you can imagine, and you did not have to be a rich man to buy them in bulk. Towards the other end, starting from the VSNL building, was the most boring place on the planet, or so I thought, the Fashion Street- 2 Kms of clothes, clothes and clothes.

What good would that do to a 10 year old? There were no book shops there; that meant no comics. It was often that I said to ma, “amma, when you want to go to Fashion street, count me out of it”.


[Above: The Old Taj Hotel]


[Above: The Friends of the Gateway]

The Gateway of India, as always drenched in the salty, smelly breeze. The colourful boats, still the same much like faithful companions to the age old monument. Not even the colour schemes have changed and the odd rubber tyres all over them. As I stand facing the green sea with the Gateway behind my back, I see the inland, the large chunk of land devoid of the mainland, which had once been my home for 6 years. The hill, far away and in the middle of the sea, with a tower on top. The view so faint that the hill almost dissolved itself into the surroundings of the sea and the sky, just a thin borderline preventing that from happening. Happy Homecoming.


[Above: The Kitten at Bombay VT]

On a personal note, I thought a post here should be a fitting tribute to my good old (heehee..**devil grin**..good, OLD) Blogger Friend, EP.

Happy Birthday EP. Keep sprinkling humor on your everyday experiences while you blog.

EP once featured in Rediffblogs “Top Blogs” and thats how I came to know him. I dont know about others but I go through his archives and read stuff to lighten my mood many times. Here is one…
and this one, which was when his blog made it to the Best of Rediffblogs.

Rock on, EP.

Saw this sticker on the back of a car. It said:

“Mr Chief Minister…
WASSSUP?
What about the work on the Airport Road Flyover?”

Since the last 2 years, the flyover has been as is- no work whatsoever. The road crossing there which normally should not take more than 6-7 minutes by car in normal traffic usually renders the car useless. It’s better off walking there. Meanwhile, hope is there since the work resumed last month.

One more incident. Yesterday while our CM was touring Jayanagar in an Air Conditioned Bus, a group of ladies came in the way and stopped the bus. Their demand? “Let the CM out. Let him come out and walk with us on this road.” A heavy rainy day and all we have here is just mud.

I have lived in so many cities across India, but this has the worst infrastructure. Hell, it seems the Government is adamant to keep it that way.

More examples?

The 80 Ft road in Koramangala- this long road is the main road in this part of the city and all we had there till 2 months back was a mixture of stones and sand. Then they fixed it- only a temporary solution as now I see that the road is rapidly coming back to it’s “usual self” and driving regularly on it could cut the lifespan of the tyres by half besides testing the driver’s driving skills. We have a dirt-road adventure, right in the middle of the city. Or for that matter, anywhere in the city for it is the same story on every road.

And here comes the biggie- Sometime before March of this year, the World Bank (YES, the WORLD BANK) paid BMC for the funding of not just this road, but all the Bangalore Roads under the Karnataka Municipal Reforms Project. (Did you notice? We have a State level reforms project going on since the last 8 months. Did you know that?) Where has all the money gone? In the potholes?

But yes, work for the malls, which are coming up like wild mushrooms, never stops. There is one opening up just opposite to “The Forum” mall. Who needs roads? Who needs a better drainage system? So what if we spend 1 hour, one way, reaching the office because of the traffic? Who cares if Azim Premji himself goes on record calling Bangalore a national calamity? We need our malls. We need those escalator clad, centrally air-conditioned malls.

Later I came to know about this. The source of the “Wasssup?” stickers.

In the early first week of the month of June, when I booked my tickets for Pondicherry I hoped and prayed that the day I was to spend in Chennai, 19th June, not be that hot since I had heard a lot about Chennai heat.

Ironically, 19th June was the hottest day of the year.

By late night I was in Pondicherry. I just wanted to visit the place and see the Bay of Bengal. I did not expect anything much. Heck, I did not even expect the hot weather.

As you walk by the straight and clean roads of Pondicherry, the city constantly reminds you of its French past. This was a colony of the French while the rest of India was in the British rule. The only exceptions were Pondicherry, on the east coast, which was under the French and in the west coast, Goa, my home, which was under the Portuguese.


[Above: Pondicherry, by the sea]

On the walls of most of the houses, their French names are written in neat blue boards. The architecture is beautiful, more so in the city of Auroville (located near Pondicherry), which was a dream of Sri Aurobindo. Auroville is a must see.

The ashram of Sri Aurobindo is the main attraction and people come from all over the country to visit his samadhi (more about it, here). This is the city where he lived in exile and made his home since Sri Aurobindo was also involved in the freedom movement and was wanted by the British Authorities. No visit to Pondicherry is complete without spending some time at The Ashram. Also do not forget to visit the Aurobindo handmade paper factory. It is walking distance from The Ashram.


[Above: Under the white sky, Pondicherry, by the sea]

The best way to explore the city is by walking. It is an enjoyable experience. Walk, be patient and the city quietly unfolds itself to you. The residents, they all seem so welcoming.

Also make sure, that the bus you take from Chennai happens to be a day journey. At least make it that one way. Trust me you won’t regret the sight. The highway is all along the east coast. The bay flirts with the line of sight when, at times, it goes away. All through the journey you will have the treat of watching the Bay along the highway and the humid, salty breeze washing your face.


[Above: The Blessing]

By the way, now that I have travelled by road on both the east coast and the west coast, I think there will be less road journeys better than the ones on the west coast. I have travelled extensively on that side and each time I am left spellbound. In fact, since my family is still in Goa, I do these journeys every few months.

Coming back to the topic, Pondicherry is not a city for beach bummers. If you wish to do that, Goa is the place to be. I think this city is a place where you can get in touch with your inner self by exploring your own version of spirituality. I found it to be a quiet and silent place, even though locals insist that in the past it was much better. When I go again to Pondicherry, it will be only to spend some time back in the Ashram, in the day and sit by the Bay of Bengal, watching the limitless sea in the evening. These are enough reasons for me to visit Pondicherry again.

(PS: while visiting Chennai, do NOT miss the Idlis and the Dosas.)

After I saw Iqbal, I thought I could very well update my last post on the movie since I think it is a well made movie. I have always believed in Kukunoor’s abilities as a director and this time too, I was not disappointed. The best thing about the movie was that unlike other movies that are based on a theme like this, this movie does not evoke emotions because our Hero is deaf and mute. In fact, chances are that while watching the movie you might forget, for once, that he is handicapped at all.

The reason why I did not update my last post on Iqbal and am writing a new post here is because I thought there could be a connection drawn between Kukunoor’s magnificent movie and Anand Vasu’s excellent and thought provoking article on the state of Indian Cricket Selection process here. The author is Cricinfo’s assistant editor.

Mr Vasu’s article proves that cricket is not just a mere sport in my country. More than a sport, and not only a religion, I think it is an industry. There is more to it than what meets the eye. I urge you to read it here.