Getting there...

Tickets: check.
Invite letter: check.
Travel Insurance: check.
Vaccine. check.
Visa: pending.

Cricket...as I never knew it

After a (too) long hiatus, I have resolved (again) to write more frequently. As most great revolutions started with one single act of injustice against one individual or a group (Gandhi, Rosa Parks etc) thus a single act of incomprehensible savagery has triggered my return here. Not that I am laying any claim to triggering a revolution or anything even remotely momentous.

This event I talk about is my 2nd real T 20 cricket experience "live" in 2 years. Or rather the first time really in a T20 cricket match that I tried to watch the 3 hours as a purely cricketing event. It is hard to express what I felt then and what still lingers strongly. I walked into a stadium which had screaming, kicking fans...all 50 thousand of them. But something was wrong...where there should have been teams warming up and fans eagerly looking through binoculars seeking out their heroes or where little kids were encouraged to shout out players' names hence attracting time for a quick photo op, there was Jamelia, Shaggy and Chaka Khan along with a few shaolin monks and dancers all doing their bit with much gusto. Even for a cricketing opening ceremony saying this was unprecedented is an understatement.

But that's not what got my attention...I was at IPL 1 and saw the opening and appreciated the efforts to bring some glamour to the game. This time as I looked around my enclosure and neighbouring spectator stands what slowly but surely dawned on me was that it was in fact THIS, the singers, dancers pyrotechnics, laser shows, shaolin monks, scantily clad cheerleaders, pulsating music and (if you were rich enough or had the right connections) the free flowing Scotch and food that were the actual reasons for most people to be present here. There were no children wandering the boundary in search of that autograph, there were no big screens with player stats, win loss records, clips from previous games being shown, no player profiles whatsoever, there was not one and I mean one single pair of binoculars in the entire section where I sat. That was astounding to me! Was this the same enclosure, the same cricket stadium that I had sat in a few years ago and seen the birth of one of Cricket's greatest sons when Michael Clarke scored a flawless hundred on debut? Was this the same ground where I had witnessed what is easily my most intense sporting experience when India beat Pakistan in a world cup quarter final? Were these the same people with whom I had discussed so many aspects of the game with although we were perfect strangers a few hours before? And that was where the answer lay...they weren't the same people. Cricket had moved on...as I looked around me again with more understanding I realised the change in the demographic that had happened almost overnight:

There were no boys sitting next to their parents where Dad was exhorting the talents of this or that player...there were no groups of youngish kids huddled together pointing "look that's Duminy! What a shot he hit that day!" or "There's Steyn warming up...shit what speed!"...there were no cricket girls! When I mean cricket girls I mean the spunky, flag waving, face painted laughing knowledgeable or semi knowledgeable girl who tolerated cricket, had at least 1 major cricket crush (usually the most unusual of players like Dan Vettori) and would never miss a live cricket match in Bangalore...screaming her lungs out everytime she got a glimpse of Dan. Gone. Poof...just like that. Replaced instead by sleek things who'd stepped of the escalator that churns out sleek mink things everywhere. No shouting and cheering and face painting for these girls. Hmph.

No future Sachins in the crowd...no cricket girls either.

As I sat there and the opening ceremony finished...a most bizarre thing happened. I had walked in late and just about managed to find a seat in my enclosure...not a very good seat too. I thought to myself damn...now I'm stuck here because its T20 and there isn't a break either when people will wander away for beers or lunch or dinner. But yet again I overestimated the reasons for which people now come to cricket matches: as soon as Shaggy completed his traipsing on the Chinnaswamy turf and the monks somersaulted their way out and the umpires slowly, tentatively began walking towards the pitch...the people in my stand started walking out! Admittedly I was in a fairly posh-ish stand but surely didn't people see that these were the best seats in the house? And that they were soon going to see the likes of Dale Steyn and JP Duminy and LRPL Taylor slug it out? Nope. The stand was half empty and remained like that for the rest of the match.

By the time the umpires got onto the field, I began to notice other incredulous goings on: there were WWE style strobe lights around the stadium which began flashing and an M C of sorts who was wired up to speakers right around the ground began with a reverberating "LET US WELCOME THE UMPIRES"...I was bemused...when did we start welcoming umpires? But this was just the start of the most recent corrosive influence...the M C continued this insanity by naming each player on either side. That's when another folly occurred...each time the name of the opposing team from South Africa was called out there was a loud round of boos that resounded around the stadium...I was appalled. What had happened to my mild mannered, appreciative Bangalore cricket fan? The M C made it a point to completely ruin any viewing experience by even making announcements IN BETWEEN THE OVER! Now if you have ever watched cricket you will know that there's a lot of things that go on between overs but while those 6 balls are being bowled the music stays off, there are no announcements and the crowd is glued to the action or is getting themselves beer outside. But the brains behind t 20 feel this is not enough. The MC announced every boundary and six that was hit with "OH WHAT A FOUR!...CAN WE CLAP FOR THAT?!" and so on and so forth...I was deflated.

Adding to this sacking of the game, everytime a wicket fell or a boundary was hit, the speakers were put on full blast...you could barely get yourself to think let alone discuss the four or share views on the wicket with your neighbour. Alas that's when I realised fully that this sport was either for those who didn't think too much anyway or the administrators are now trying to get you to think less with the beer and scantily clad cheerleaders and bombastic M Cs.

Owing to all these factors, I could barely follow and enjoy the sheer beauty of JP Duminy's 99 not out that took his team home. It was a savage assault on bowlers but still a thing of terrible beauty not to be ignored by purists and commoners alike.

All in all, I am staggered by what a few people, big companies and lots of TV money have managed to make of cricket. How do I describe the feeling, as a 15 year old, of seeing Steve Waugh practice in the nets, of seeing Azhar playing those trade mark flicks, of Michael Clarke and Mark Waugh...of Sachin Sachin and more Sachin. All in whites...sometimes in coloured clothing. But always it was about the cricket. And only the cricket. From almost the first day that I began watching and playing this game there was a saying that was bandied about "no one is greater than the game"...it seems now that a few people have figured out how to finally defeat the game itself. Simply stop playing it and it will go away. I was always undecided on whether t 20 and all that goes with it would be positive or negative. Now I believe that if this is the road then I will probably walk backwards...keeping this new entity in sight until I can but always moving farther away from it. Cricket has been one of the purest things I've ever known and I won't let a bunch of corporations, agents, brands and hustlers make me buy, in it's place, something which really is a vial of processed, genetically modified, chemically enhanced sludge just because it has a bright label with instructions on how I can mainline it easily.

Goodnight and God bless.

Back and off

OK it is definitely time to resume the catharsis. Right now, the mind is as usual proving harder to master than even the mighty winds. How easily I quote from the Gita. A sign of the frivolity of us young people some might say but I may turn back and say I am not so young anymore either!

I digress.

Driving to work this morning, listening to the Phish Camden recording for the nth time, I was thinking how Phish is once again becoming central to my musical leanings. I come to office and the first thing I see on my Facebook update is a message about Radiohead's latest song which they are giving away for free download. And now as I listen to "These are my twisted words", the Universe seems whole again. Reason and meaning is gushing like a cheerful gurgling spring back into life.

What's more I am off to Ladakh tonight. Until then keep on keepin' on.

I am...

A description of me so apt I had to put it up here:

"YOU...you, my friend, you're a standard liberal. A nice, center-left leaning, unoffending, politically correct internationalist silly liberal"


No prizes for guessing who came up with this description.

26 years on...

Confession time: I don't cry often. Not much moves me to cry. But I've come close a few times. And I've cried a few times. One I clearly remember till this day is when I was not selected for my state Under- 13's cricket team. Another time was Rock Werchter 2008 ...certainly a time when my eyes were moist...when Neil Young walked on stage. I will remember that till the day I die.

Strangely enough, the Phish show that didn't happen...Camden N.J 2009/06/07 for which VJ had me a ticket...I downloaded the whole show and I have been listening to it over the last 2 days. Phish came together in 1983...I was 2 years old then. And now in 2009, they are still as fresh and sweet and incredible as they have ever been. This is something that I am a part of, a journey I have been on for the last 5 odd years and its something I cherish in a way I cannot describe. I've come close to having moist eyes several times as I listen to these 4 guys do their thing. I feel privileged. When they play "Silent in the morning" on this show...I came close to just letting go.

Lotus Born

I am not sure whether it is my excitement regarding my trip to Ladakh in August or me reading two books which trace Tibetan buddhism and its richness or...something else. But I feel more and more drawn to the Dalai Lama lately...more so than I have ever felt. Is there a more complex explanation to this? Why do some things begin to pique your curiousity when they do? Hmmm...

What I do know is I must read more of the Dalai Lama's writings.

Tweet tweet twee...oops.

I find it truly absurd that censorship in its form continues in China. Ahead of the Tiananmen Square protest anniversary, the last Commie outpost seems to have pulled out all the stops to curb discussion, conversation and dissent. We truly live in an absurd world where the power of money has resulted in the free world pretending to be friends and sleeping with a regime which is as bad, if not worse than those in Burma, North Korea and some of those despicable regimes in Africa that China patronizes. 4 years ago living in Shanghai I was increasingly frustrated at the lack of any stimuli or news from the outside world other than meaningless American baseball reports and a few side clips on tennis. Politics was mostly rubbish and business news was propoganda about how the Chinese behemoth was advancing.

4 years hence things seem to have gotten worse. Tibet has been crushed in a systematic way...cultural genocide at it's best. Free speech is almost impossible and money and a better standard of life is being offered with one hand and liberty, freedom and self-discovery has been brutally snatched with the other. Nothing suggests that this trend will change soon, if ever. But then no one imagined the collapse of Communism in Europe in the spectacular fashion it did happen so one can only hope that sooner rather than later, the Chinese people will take matters into their own hands. But nothing right now suggests that to be so. Till then, I will continue reading about Tibetan culture and spirituality and hope one day I can discuss these things with Tibetans in Tibet. In my lifetime...? Perhaps...perhaps not.

Belief

I was thinking to myself after the 10 K run on Sunday...well thinking is the wrong word. I think the word is reflecting. Yes as I was reflecting in a very unstructured manner, all kinds of past events flitted through my mind. I was again told by someone close that I have self discipline and that's what got me reflecting. I've always seen myself as somewhat lazy, unwilling to go the extra mile and I've always felt I am content too easily. Having said that, over the last 6 years I've lived in 2 different countries, reinvented myself completely, changed career tracks...twice, ran a marathon. So maybe I am not that much of a wimp after all. I will immediately add also that I harbour no pride or even a sense of accomplishment...I keep telling people some of the things I've done anyone can do. But the key really lies in believing. I think if you really believe you can and really want it bad, it comes together. Events conspire to make things happen in your favour. I am not enlightened enough to articulate this further, besides it's already been spoken about by countless people in the past. If you want something, really believe and try to make it happen, most times it really will happen.