Really random thoughts

My latest post on the Dawn blog is about Dhoni's individual form.
Bring back the helicopter shot
As an aside, I feel compelled to mention that I'm grateful to Sachin for not scoring a token century at Trend Bridge. Such an event would have made our media go ga-ga over the "hundred 100s" milstone. Someone would have had to pinch the anchors and ask, 'What about the defeat?' To which they'd have responded, 'What defeat? Oh, er, of course. The defeat. What about it?'
As my friend Pat points out, the issue isn't the attention Sachin gets. It's the manner in which the feats of others are belittled in the process. Had Dravid and Laxman played in another era, maybe we'd have learnt to appreciate their genius. Which brings me to another emphatic statement Pat made: 'Nobody must open their mouth anymore about Dravid's retirement. He must be allowed to play as long as he wants.' Well said, Pat.


I'm halfway through Madhulika Liddle's The Englishman's cameo. It's yet another book that has not received the attention it deserves. We as a nation seem hell bent on celebrating badly written books. The good ones find quiet spots in musty libraries to bury themselves in.


Meanwhile, I'm glad that July has ended. This July rivalled the July of 2007 in its ability to inflict pain. For the better part of the month, I felt displaced from myself. The body too caved in, and I was forced to visit a doctor for the first time in perhaps 5 years. Viral flu, it turned out to be. The situation offered me a glimpse of the future. Me cooped up at home, all alone, waiting for my cook to arrive so that I could have some warm soup. As luck would have it, Senthil and Simona were visiting me during this time. So I wasn't all alone all the time. But since I was not working, I kept thinking about Risha. Resultantly, I kept fuming about how unfair the world really is. And, also, how unfair one person can be to another. What surprised me was that, during a discussion about my past, I found myself defending this person whose position is becoming increasingly indefensible by the day. Somebody better teach me how to fall out of love. Fast. Right now, I feel the need for some meaningful, well-directed anger. You know, I used to have the knack of getting angry in a jiffy. What has happened to me?
Another fallout of my flu is that my training regimen has come to an abrupt end. I hope to get back to my cardio and light-weights workouts soon. As of now, it's not happening.


July ended well, though. For the past 10 days, I've been writing well. An average of 3000 words a day. So my long-term assignment is progressing well, the articles in Dawn have resumed and I have enough gas left in the tank to consider additional copywriting assignments. As always, my ability to produce - which defines me - has put me in a better frame of mind. My parents are in town, too. Bachpan ka khana awaits me at every meal. And the only woman who is willing to love me unconditionally is around to chat and laugh. It's almost too good to be true.


The city is on the right hand side of my apartment complex. But a right turn is disallowed when we exit the gates because the break in the divider is around 10 m away. My solution is to ride on the wrong side for 10 m and then cross the legal break in the divider. I don't quite like the alternative of riding an extra 200 m to the left and 200 m back each time. And I have, what I feel, is a sound reason for this. By not riding the extra (400-20) = 380 m, I save quite a bit of fuel. So breaking the rule is the greener option. Of course, one must ensure that one is not blocking the oncoming traffic and one does not terrorize the pedestrians. And herein lies the clincher - as of today, the traffic is light enough for a 2-wheeler to negotiate the 10 m without causing anybody any harm or delay. Were the traffic situation to change, the wrong option no longer remains the green option - I might spend just as much fuel revving my engine and waiting for the traffic to clear.
What I'm trying to say is that I feel comfortable and far from guilty in turning the wrong way. Because I'm not the kind of guy to jump red lights etc. I break this particular law because I see merit in breaking it. But what do you think? Can environmental concerns override civic laws? And is it alright for individuals to make such judgment calls?

Whew!
I always feel weird when I write about personal issues on my blog. In this case, I guess I wanted to have a conversation, aloud, with myself. I don't know why.

Take care everybody, and I hope your August is looking pretty good.

A messy basement and a clean penthouse?

As expected, the representatives of the government and civil society have plenty of outstanding issues that threaten to derail the debate and perhaps stall the Lokpal Bill. I hope we reach some meaningful middle ground. And just as the civil society representatives strive to give teeth to the Lokpal, I hope the governmhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifent representatives ensure that a new constitutional monster is not created out of this office of hope.
In the article below, I don't deal with the pitfalls... I've restricted myself to just one point: how can we allow the minions of the government to be excluded from the ambit of the Lokpal?

A messy basement and a clean penthouse?

As usual, I look forward to hearing your views. Hope you're doing well.

Mumbai meri jaan

Few places are as enchanting as one's childhood home. No food can taste as delicious as a childhood treat.
The world of terror is taking my home for granted. It's treating itself to evil grins. All I'm doing right now is writing about it.

Mumbai meri jaan

I choose to be satirical because I thought it could highlight the issues involved better. What do you think?

Where's the Caribbean Calypso?

Friends,

My latest post on Dawn is on the legacy and current state of WI cricket.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

Where's the Caribbean Calypso?

I wanted to write a lot more. Stuff like how the WI cricketers cannot use nationalistic pride to motivate themselves. Playing for a loose confederacy probably won't have the same intensity as playing for one's national side. This is especially true because most of the Caribbean nations have strong individual identities.
When I asked a Trinidadian friend why a Caribbean dish was named the "Jamaican Jerk Chicken", she said, 'I don't know, dear. Probably because they have so many jerks over there, believe you me!'
That was banter. Sometimes, the identities can escalate banter into animosity. Now imagine: the WI players from "opposite" sides are expected to share a dressing room and work towards common goals. If they find an able leader like Clive Lloyd, they can create magic. If not, there can be unresolved issues.

Anyway, hoping to see exciting Caribbean cricket in the near future. I hope this decade belongs not to one dominant team but to many equally-matched ones.

Tracking the cosmic rhythm

In 1992, as I was about to embark on a 24-hour train journey to seek admission in an engineering college in Chennai, a kind friend gave me his threadbare walkman and a cassette tape of Roja.
‘But I don’t listen to Tamil music,’ I told him haughtily.
‘Maybe it’s time you did,’ he replied, bidding me adieu.
Throughout that journey, I spent my meagre “train allowance” on batteries. I skipped a meal, endured the shocks that the semi-naked wires the headphone gave me and, to the annoyance of my fellow travellers, insisted on singing tunelessly along with the melody playing between my ears. Two things were happening. One: I was rediscovering Tamil film music. And two: I was discovering the genius of a young debutant composer named A. R. Rahman.
For the next four years, followers of Bollywood heard the hand-me-down versions of Rahman’s compositions while I smugly enjoyed the pristine Tamil versions of the same songs. All that changed in 1995 with the release of Rangeela.

And now, we finally have the maestro's story from his own mouth, thanks to a newly released book titled A. R. Rahman: The spirit of music by Nasreen Munni Kabir.
Here's my review of the book on Dawn:

Tracking the cosmic rhythm

If you're a Rahman fan too, hark back!

Najam Sethi and the Indian electronic media

I introspected, wrote with feeling, recalibrated my words, soaked them in linseed oil and finally decided to let them go. Here's my latest article in Dawn Online. It's about the Indian electronic media and a Pakistani phenomenon called Najam Sethi.

Belligerence with a mission

This piece was written before Saleem Shahzad was brutally tortured and murdered by the Dark Side that thrives inside Pakistan. It's awe-inspiring that Pakistani journalists keep writing bravely, despite such terrible consequences. I saluted Sethi in this article, but in reality, that salute goes out to every Pakistani journalist of his ilk.

Living in the present continuous

Alright, we've all heard about it. Life is bliss in the present continuous.
Time is a ruthless master. It haunts us with memories from the past and threatens us with the uncertainties of the future. But there's a way to subdue this tyrant. Forget the past, don't worry about the future. Just focus on this tiny moment passing you by. Milk it for all it's worth. Make it count. Easier said than done, eh?

Sportspersons are, I think, naturally acquainted with the concept of the present continuous. They call it "being in the zone." Imagine commandeering a F1 car around a curvaceous bend at 180 mph, or hooking a bodyline bouncer from the world's fastest bowler for a six, or blocking an accurate, curling free kick with a sublime dive. These are just a few examples of how sportspersons respond to stimuli with aplomb. How are they able to do in real time what others cannot fathom even in slow-motion? The only explanation is that these "superhumans" are able to dissect time into ever-slimmer slices and then utlise each slice optimally. You might say that, while on the field of play, they're extreme proponents of the present continuous. After all, when you chop the present finely enough, you get the present continuous.

I myself have used this idea extensively in the past four years. When your present sucks, the wise option is to live in the present continuous. I try and follow this dictum whenever negative emotions don't rule over my soul. Of course, the concept is less glamorous when a writer practises it. A writer living in the present continuous frowns upon the parts of speech till the sentence rewrites itself. He focuses on making his fictional character's situation more poignant and only then worries whether the backstory still makes sense. He manifests the most urgent thought on paper and then ponders over where it will fit in. For instance, I wrote this paragraph before beginning the article.

But the hands-down best argument in favour of living in the present continuous was provided by my friend Priyam. As a tireless crusader in an NGO that caters to those suffering from dementia, Priyam helps people who have neither a substantial recollection of the past nor a notion of the future. Dementia subjects seem to live in a time warp, and when treated with sufficient love, care and understanding, these fellow human beings become beacons of wisdom. They teach us the merits of the present continuous.
Now, here's the clincher:
An elderly woman was diagnosed with cancer. She was devastated. She underwent the treatment procedures, but was always sad and bitter. She fretted endlessly about her condition and lamented that her life was finished. A few months later, she was diagnosed with dementia. She kept forgetting herself till she forgot that she had cancer. And just like that, she ceased to worry about that dreadful disease. By the time she entered Priyam's orbit, she was at peace with himself, enjoying life as well as she could. The sentimentalists amongst us might say that she had conquered the disease!

Yea, man. Living in the present continuous rocks.

Line of zero control

The Indo-Pak political reality swallows positive cross-border opportunities on a daily basis. Here's one off them.

http://www.dawn.com/2011/05/13/line-of-zero-control.html

Gulzar and item numbers

Being a diehhard Gulzar saab fan, I knew that I'd eventually write about his work. Never thought it'd take this shape.

http://www.dawn.com/2011/04/27/collector%E2%80%99s-items.html

I owe my love for Bollywood lyrics to this one man. When I became a romancer, he was right by side, associating THAT woman with 'Sili hawa choon gayi.' I still nurse hopes of meeting him one day. I will keep hoping...

Blogging on Dawn

Friends,

I've accepted an offer from Dawn Online to write weekly blog posts for them. The first one was published this morning. Here's the link:
http://www.dawn.com/2011/04/14/fast-of-the-furious.html

Of course, I'll still keep this blog active because not all topics I'm interested in will resonate with that audience.