I have always thought that if I were a cricketer in today's day and age I would play more one day and test cricket and would probably shun T20s altogether. I imagine I would think playing T20s to be a hindrance in playing actual cricket. What do we infer from this? Yes I have a fertile imagination, but I am not talking about that. I infered from this that I love the longer forms of the game and the shorter form of the game is a time waste for me. So I announce that I am going to retire from full time blogging. Now I know that this may sound a lot like Sanjay Bangar saying that he is retiring from T20 to focus on test cricket, and the most ardent of Bangar fans could be forgiven for smirking if and when such an announcement is issued, but that does not take away the right of announcing retirement from Sanjay Bangar.
Also even after this announcement, no one could object, if Sanjay Bangar would consent to play a charity match or two - Forgotten Lower Middle Order Batsmen XI vs Rashtrapati Bhavan gardners XI or some such. And if in a half an hour of inspiration, if Bangar were to play a blazing innings of faultless strokeplay against the undeniably talented gardners, and were the public to demand a vociferous comeback from him, he would certainly be under no legal obligation to turn down this popular request just because he had been a little to hasty in valuating his powerplay skills earlier.
Improbable? I suppose so. But impossible? Who knows???
Friday, January 8, 2010
Sunday, March 22, 2009
A Sunday morning jog
After a very very long time, I decided to do a night out (college lingo for owl like behaviour -> not sleeping at night). There were two reasons, one was that I had woken up at 2 in the afternoon and then again (somehow) dozed off for another couple of hours in the evening. The second one was reliving an experience that I had had months ago in IITG. Well I have had many a night outs at IIT, but all of them were with friends, which included watching a film (or two), then going for a walk around the campus, fried maggi at the canteen and then a discussion till dawn about almost anything under the sun. All but one.
This one was different because I sat through the night alone, reading a book, watching a film, reading Ghalib's ghazals, and then going for a cross campus jog at the crack of dawn. It was an unspeakable refreshing experience. And I had not slept the whole day after that as well.
So, I decided to repeat this experience. I started off by watching a film - Ankur - by Shyam Benegal. I have recently seen two of his films, Welcome to Sajjanpur and Shatranj ke Khiladi and have liked them both immensly. Ankur was disappointing though, except for the last 10 minutes. Anyways, by 5 in the morning I had started feeling drowsy and to wake myself up I shaved my beard. It was quite eery, shaving in the dark, the first time I have ever done so.
I took off sometime after six. The cool morning breeze instantly recalled that morning when I had been running alone in IIT. Smoke from a garbage fire, suddenly brought me back to reality. And then a blast of horn from a school bus. Then the reek from an overfilled garbage dump assaulted my nostrils.
The IIT roads used to be completely empty, with the exception of a zealous professor and his wife or a labourer with a lota in his hand.
The roads of Hyderabad, though not as full as they would be later in the day, were still congested enough to shock a new early morning jogger. After sometime the main road passed through the market place. Looking at the scene you couldn't say that it was just after 6 in the morning. Fully dressed people, waiting at the bus stop, haggling with shared auto drivers, buying fish and mutton, cursing a scooter waala wala for driving rashly - and on a Sunday on top of that. Just imagine what it would be like on a weekday.
I trudged along, huffing and puffing, struggling to maintain my momentum, in the face of so much noise and even pollution, early in the morning. On top of that a steep ascent would stare me in the face every 100 meters or so. On one such incline, I found it extremely difficult to keep running, then saw an auto spluttering up the slope, this inspired me and I ran faster, only to realise later that the auto contained no less than 8 full grown ups.
On the way I passed a group of labourers, for whom Sunday didn't mean a thing - it was just another day. And they looked at me strangely, wondering why someone would waste so much energy so early in the day. Maybe his house is on fire, no his ass more like.
Then I reached the KVR park, which is a sort of famous jogging and strolling destination, and an amazing scene greeted me. A huge queue of luxury cars streteched for over a kilometer on both sides of the road. I hoped that I would never have so much money and so little time, that I would have to come in a car to jog.
Further on I encountered a boy, aged somewhere between 15 and 20, sitting on a bike and smoking. Why would someone smoke so early in the morning? And that too in the middle of the road on a bike. Strange!!
With great difficulty I finished the last incline on the route, it was now downhill all the way back to where I live. Seeing that I had been successful in defeating the terrain, the Sun came out in full force to stop me from completing this 5 km close circuit track. It needn't have bothered, for the exhaust fumes of the buses were enough to finally make me stop somewhere close to 4 km.
I felt defeated, depleted and the opposite of all those things that I had felt after the jog in Guwahati, which incidentally I had completed. Well, one thing was common though - this is going to be a one off thing as well.
This one was different because I sat through the night alone, reading a book, watching a film, reading Ghalib's ghazals, and then going for a cross campus jog at the crack of dawn. It was an unspeakable refreshing experience. And I had not slept the whole day after that as well.
So, I decided to repeat this experience. I started off by watching a film - Ankur - by Shyam Benegal. I have recently seen two of his films, Welcome to Sajjanpur and Shatranj ke Khiladi and have liked them both immensly. Ankur was disappointing though, except for the last 10 minutes. Anyways, by 5 in the morning I had started feeling drowsy and to wake myself up I shaved my beard. It was quite eery, shaving in the dark, the first time I have ever done so.
I took off sometime after six. The cool morning breeze instantly recalled that morning when I had been running alone in IIT. Smoke from a garbage fire, suddenly brought me back to reality. And then a blast of horn from a school bus. Then the reek from an overfilled garbage dump assaulted my nostrils.
The IIT roads used to be completely empty, with the exception of a zealous professor and his wife or a labourer with a lota in his hand.
The roads of Hyderabad, though not as full as they would be later in the day, were still congested enough to shock a new early morning jogger. After sometime the main road passed through the market place. Looking at the scene you couldn't say that it was just after 6 in the morning. Fully dressed people, waiting at the bus stop, haggling with shared auto drivers, buying fish and mutton, cursing a scooter waala wala for driving rashly - and on a Sunday on top of that. Just imagine what it would be like on a weekday.
I trudged along, huffing and puffing, struggling to maintain my momentum, in the face of so much noise and even pollution, early in the morning. On top of that a steep ascent would stare me in the face every 100 meters or so. On one such incline, I found it extremely difficult to keep running, then saw an auto spluttering up the slope, this inspired me and I ran faster, only to realise later that the auto contained no less than 8 full grown ups.
On the way I passed a group of labourers, for whom Sunday didn't mean a thing - it was just another day. And they looked at me strangely, wondering why someone would waste so much energy so early in the day. Maybe his house is on fire, no his ass more like.
Then I reached the KVR park, which is a sort of famous jogging and strolling destination, and an amazing scene greeted me. A huge queue of luxury cars streteched for over a kilometer on both sides of the road. I hoped that I would never have so much money and so little time, that I would have to come in a car to jog.
Further on I encountered a boy, aged somewhere between 15 and 20, sitting on a bike and smoking. Why would someone smoke so early in the morning? And that too in the middle of the road on a bike. Strange!!
With great difficulty I finished the last incline on the route, it was now downhill all the way back to where I live. Seeing that I had been successful in defeating the terrain, the Sun came out in full force to stop me from completing this 5 km close circuit track. It needn't have bothered, for the exhaust fumes of the buses were enough to finally make me stop somewhere close to 4 km.
I felt defeated, depleted and the opposite of all those things that I had felt after the jog in Guwahati, which incidentally I had completed. Well, one thing was common though - this is going to be a one off thing as well.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Kya kahne??
| देवनागरी | Transliteration |
उस ग़ाफिल के रुदादे सितम क्या कहने इस हलाके मोहब्बत की हालत क्या कहने | Us ghaafil ke rudaade sitam kya kahne Is halaake mohabbat ki haalat kya kahne |
गाली भी न बख़शी जिस ज़ालिम ने अब तक मुस्काया के नज़रों की शरारत क्या कहने | Gaali bhi na bakshi thi jis zaalim ne ab tak Muskaaya ke nazron ki sharaarat kya kehne |
गुज़रते हुए क्यों देखते हो हमेशा आगरा जाएँ न देखें इमारत क्या कहने | Guzarte hue kyon dekhte ho hamesha Agra jaayein na dekhein imaarat kya kahne |
मान भी लें तुम्हारी तो क्या फ़ायदा है इश्क़ कों हैं समझते तिजारत क्या कहने | Maan bhi lein tumhaari to kya faydaa hai ishq ko hain samjhte tijaarat kya kahne |
तुम्हारा है ग़म यह कोई ग़म नहीं है पत्थर के ख़ुदा की इबादत क्या कहने | tumhaara hai gham yah koi gham nahi hai patthar ke khuda ki ibaadat kya kahne |
इश्क़ में था गिरफ़्तार दिल यह जो कल तक हुई कैसे इसकी ज़मानत क्या कहने | ishq mein thha giraftaar dil yah jo kal tak hui kaise iski zamaanat kya kahne |
रहेंगे मुन्तज़िर यूं ही राह तकते तकते हमारी हया की नज़ाकत क्या कहने | rahenge muntazir yoon hi rah takte takte humaari hayaa ki nazaakat kya kahne |
What tales do I tell of that oblivious beloved
What is left to say of us, due to love now dead!
That cruel one who had not even spared us an abuse
Smiled, our naughty eyes , to believe we refuse
Why do we look for them every time we pass by?
How to visit Agra without the monument and say goodbye?
Even if we believe you, what do we stand to gain?
Is this love or trade, we ask in vain.
This sorrow of yours is of your own making
You worshipped a stone and now you are weeping
This heart which was in love jailed
We still wonder how it ever got bailed
Muntazir, till eternity you will wait
Because your honour is so delicate
Thursday, March 19, 2009
The Actual Story
Long long ago in India, there were two main species of pets - Cats and Dogs. The cats were by nature "shrewd" and the dogs were by nature, "faithful" and "helpful". The cats had soft fur and they made soft seductive purrs when lovingly stroked. The dogs were hard working and went out with the head of the family to guard the sheep, while the cats enjoyed on the ladies laps all day long, eating and sleeping.
Well, time passed and dogs kept up the good work and the cats kept up the purring and other cute and nice things that they so excelled at. One day, a dog decided that he was tired running after sheep and scaring away wolves and now he was done with it. He would much rather sit in the madame's lap and drink milk from a bone china saucer.
The cat got wind of the dog's intentions and got scared for its position. But as said earlier, it was cunning and sitting in the lap all day long, it had given deep thought to such metaphysical questions as to what is to be done if the dogs one day realized the fun the cat was having. All sorts of misinformation about dogs started doing the rounds. They ate bones, "how henious"! and they were dirty and were always covered with lice, "ugghhhh"!!! They were not fit for living inside the house, and that it was not for no reason that their kennels were always outside the house (forgetting that dogs also work as watchmen at night). Infact there was a whole book which detailed why dogs were dirty and fit for the job they had (ofcourse that book was in the beautifully sweet mew mew tongue so only the cats understood it).
The poor dogs were banished from the house and even the occasional pats that they received ceased.
Centuries later, the dogs realized that they had been taken for a ride, and that it was time all this horsedung about them being low creatures was silenced. Soon enough men also realized that they had been unfair. So they decided that all work would be shared among cats and dogs and that dogs for being treated so unjustly would get more holiday time and other benefits.
The cats were aghast that when both they and the dogs would be doing equal work, then why the dogs should get any more free time than they. So then they made stories of dogs loafing around all the time and they doing all the hard work. When this did not work, indignant that dogs were getting preferential treatment, they migrated to USA. The poor dogs had to do all the work and couldn't get any free time as there were no cats to share the work with them. An English director made a superhit film about the huge disparity between Indian cats and dogs, aptly called Slumdog-Millionaire.
Well, time passed and dogs kept up the good work and the cats kept up the purring and other cute and nice things that they so excelled at. One day, a dog decided that he was tired running after sheep and scaring away wolves and now he was done with it. He would much rather sit in the madame's lap and drink milk from a bone china saucer.
The cat got wind of the dog's intentions and got scared for its position. But as said earlier, it was cunning and sitting in the lap all day long, it had given deep thought to such metaphysical questions as to what is to be done if the dogs one day realized the fun the cat was having. All sorts of misinformation about dogs started doing the rounds. They ate bones, "how henious"! and they were dirty and were always covered with lice, "ugghhhh"!!! They were not fit for living inside the house, and that it was not for no reason that their kennels were always outside the house (forgetting that dogs also work as watchmen at night). Infact there was a whole book which detailed why dogs were dirty and fit for the job they had (ofcourse that book was in the beautifully sweet mew mew tongue so only the cats understood it).
The poor dogs were banished from the house and even the occasional pats that they received ceased.
Centuries later, the dogs realized that they had been taken for a ride, and that it was time all this horsedung about them being low creatures was silenced. Soon enough men also realized that they had been unfair. So they decided that all work would be shared among cats and dogs and that dogs for being treated so unjustly would get more holiday time and other benefits.
The cats were aghast that when both they and the dogs would be doing equal work, then why the dogs should get any more free time than they. So then they made stories of dogs loafing around all the time and they doing all the hard work. When this did not work, indignant that dogs were getting preferential treatment, they migrated to USA. The poor dogs had to do all the work and couldn't get any free time as there were no cats to share the work with them. An English director made a superhit film about the huge disparity between Indian cats and dogs, aptly called Slumdog-Millionaire.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Ab bahaane banaya karte hain
| देवनागरी | Transliteration |
दो ही मुलाकातों में हारे , अब तो बस अशर बनाया करते हैं हमें मोहब्बत समझ न आई , अब बहाने बनाया करते हैं | do hi mulaaqaaton mein haare, ab to bas ashar banaaya karte hain humein mohabbat samajh na aayi, ab bahaane banaaya karte hain |
उनको भुलाने की रहती है कोशिश अब शबो सहर ढूँढ़ते हैं नया कोई ग़म , पुराने को मिटाया करते हैं | unko bhulaane ki ab rehti hai koshish shab-o-sahar dhhondte hain koi naya gham, puraane ko mitaaya karte hain |
हो मोहल्ले की कोई बात, या हो जाए कोई किस्सा दिलचस्प दोस्तों को दास्ताने चश्मदीद , कविता लिख के सुनाया करते हैं | ho mohalle ki koi baat, ya ho jaaye koi qissa dilchasp doston ko daastaan-e-chashmdeed, kavitaayein likh ke sunaaya karte hain |
यूँ कर के तजुर्बे किस्म किस्म , वक़्त को अपने बिताया करते हैं जिसे कहती है कला यह दुनिया, ज़ख्मी दिल को ऐसे बहलाया करते हैं | yun kar ke tajurbe qism qism, waqt ko apne bitaaya karte hain jise kehti hai kala yeh duniya, zakhmi dil ko aise behlaaya karte hain |
कहने को तो किसी नयी उल्फत के इंतज़ार में है मुन्तज़िर फिर भी दिले खस्ता को वोह इश्क़े मुख्तसर याद दिलाया करते हैं | kehne ko to kisi nayi ulfat ke intezaar mein hai muntazir phir bhi dil-e-khasta ko woh ishq-e-mukhtasar yaad dilaaya karte hain |
Translation -:
Now we just write couplets, having conceded defeat in two meetings only,
Love confused us totally, so we now make excuses only.
Now we just try and block those memories, night and day
To forget we are looking for something, if a new sorrow only.
We have started writing poems to friends
about interesting events, and if not then trifles only.
These musings of ours are a way of passing time
The world may call it art, the truth is known by our injured heart only.
To people we say that Muntazir is single and ready to mingle
Then why does the devastated heart pine for one only
Monday, March 16, 2009
Dreamers??
The following is a piece of conversation between a mad-man and a sane-man, that for all I know, has never taken place, except inside my head (wherever that is). Its upto the reader to decide whether that puts me in the former category or not. Please note that a mad-man is defined as someone whom the society collectively has labelled as not sane and a sane-man is one who is yet to classified in that category by the society.
Madman: Do you dream?
Sane-man: Ofcourse! What a question. Don't you?
Madman: What do you dream of?
Sane-man: A variety of things.
Madman: Like what?
Sane-man: Well, flying for instance.
Madman: You can fly?
Sane-man: What a question! Ofcourse not. Are you ok?
Madman: When do you usually dream?
Sane-man: Really, are you ok?
Madman: When?
Sane-man: Well, when I am asleep. Thats when all people dream, don't they?
Madman: Are you dreaming now?
Sane-man: Now come on mate, whats the point of these questions. Where do you live?
M: Well thats a yes, is it?
S: What?! No, I am not dreaming...why would I dream while talking to you. Besides, didn't I just tell you I dream only when I am asleep.
M: How do you know, you aren't asleep?
S: What a question?! How can I be talking to you and sleeping at the same time?
M: You can fly and sleep, can't you?
S: What? No, who told you that?
M: So what if you wake up right now and find that you can really fly. Where will you fly off to?
S: This is getting weird mate. I am going.
M: Well you can't go, but you can fly.
S: Ya whatever.
M: Do you ever feel while dreaming that you are dreaming?
S: What? Hmm, now that you have asked that question, I think yes, I do sometimes feel I am dreaming when I am dreaming.
M: But then how do you know for sure, eh?
S: What?
M: That you aren't dreaming?
S: But I am.
M: No when you are not dreaming, and you feel you are, then.
S: You are confusing me mate.
M: Well, then are you dreaming right now?
S: No.
M: You sure?
S: Ya, as sure as could be.
M: How sure is that?
S: Thats well, what do you mean how sure is that? Its sure.
M: Can you always fly in your dreams?
S: No, not always.
M: You can't fly now can you?
S: Now, well no.
M: How do you know? You haven't tried, have you?
S: Well, thats ridiculous, isn't it?
M: Not so ridiculous in your dreams, it isn't.
S: What?
M: Well, does someone tell you you can fly, when the dream begins? Does someone say - "Hey, jump off that cliff, its just a dream, nothings gonna happen?"
S: (thinking)
S: This could be a dream, then?
M: OFCOURSE NOT! What a question! Are you sure you are ok mate?
(To be continued...)
Madman: Do you dream?
Sane-man: Ofcourse! What a question. Don't you?
Madman: What do you dream of?
Sane-man: A variety of things.
Madman: Like what?
Sane-man: Well, flying for instance.
Madman: You can fly?
Sane-man: What a question! Ofcourse not. Are you ok?
Madman: When do you usually dream?
Sane-man: Really, are you ok?
Madman: When?
Sane-man: Well, when I am asleep. Thats when all people dream, don't they?
Madman: Are you dreaming now?
Sane-man: Now come on mate, whats the point of these questions. Where do you live?
M: Well thats a yes, is it?
S: What?! No, I am not dreaming...why would I dream while talking to you. Besides, didn't I just tell you I dream only when I am asleep.
M: How do you know, you aren't asleep?
S: What a question?! How can I be talking to you and sleeping at the same time?
M: You can fly and sleep, can't you?
S: What? No, who told you that?
M: So what if you wake up right now and find that you can really fly. Where will you fly off to?
S: This is getting weird mate. I am going.
M: Well you can't go, but you can fly.
S: Ya whatever.
M: Do you ever feel while dreaming that you are dreaming?
S: What? Hmm, now that you have asked that question, I think yes, I do sometimes feel I am dreaming when I am dreaming.
M: But then how do you know for sure, eh?
S: What?
M: That you aren't dreaming?
S: But I am.
M: No when you are not dreaming, and you feel you are, then.
S: You are confusing me mate.
M: Well, then are you dreaming right now?
S: No.
M: You sure?
S: Ya, as sure as could be.
M: How sure is that?
S: Thats well, what do you mean how sure is that? Its sure.
M: Can you always fly in your dreams?
S: No, not always.
M: You can't fly now can you?
S: Now, well no.
M: How do you know? You haven't tried, have you?
S: Well, thats ridiculous, isn't it?
M: Not so ridiculous in your dreams, it isn't.
S: What?
M: Well, does someone tell you you can fly, when the dream begins? Does someone say - "Hey, jump off that cliff, its just a dream, nothings gonna happen?"
S: (thinking)
S: This could be a dream, then?
M: OFCOURSE NOT! What a question! Are you sure you are ok mate?
(To be continued...)
Thursday, March 12, 2009
A costly affair
The Americans, the British,
The French, and the Germans
they did a lot of consuming
and gladdened the Arabs
The sheikhs decided
to fill their bulging pockets
and hence up shot
the price of oil like rockets
The airlines that we were fond
of calling low cost
decided that their profits
were now getting lost
And the era of low cost flying
vanished overnight
the railways made gains
as we were back on trains
But them americans, they enjoyed
but forgot to pay
their bills and loans
worth billions they say
and banks crashed all around
the markets plumetted
people were fired
and houses vacated
and soon there were no
long queues at the gas stations
and price of oil was
brought down by scared Arab nations
and people like me,
were happy again
because air travel
was again a bargain
But the kings of the air
they said they were still making losses
and air tickets were still
kept dear by aeroplane bosses
And then, out of nowhere
came a man called Otis
he said he was selling
the Mahatma's glasses
and chappals and teeth and what not
to the highest bidder
suddenly through the country
passed a collective shudder
People took to the streets
to convice the government
to bring back our heritage at all costs
trash all development
The government were not sure
exactly what to do
Otis said spend on the poor
and take them without a sou
But if they had had
any money to spare
they would have offered a drink
to every poor, elections were near
And then rose our man
our knight in shining armour
he decided to spend
sitting in a French parlour
He paid a million dollars
and then paid some more
for an old chappal, specs and teeth
of a man considered pure
But that beer baron
that king of red planes
from where did he earn it
from where it all came?
Its we who payed
for all that booze
and we who spent money
to go and air cruise
So we can be proud
we can lay claim
after all when fuel was cheaper
we still paid the same
But if only we had spent
all that money for progress
that man would have been happier
if there was no one without a dress.
The French, and the Germans
they did a lot of consuming
and gladdened the Arabs
The sheikhs decided
to fill their bulging pockets
and hence up shot
the price of oil like rockets
The airlines that we were fond
of calling low cost
decided that their profits
were now getting lost
And the era of low cost flying
vanished overnight
the railways made gains
as we were back on trains
But them americans, they enjoyed
but forgot to pay
their bills and loans
worth billions they say
and banks crashed all around
the markets plumetted
people were fired
and houses vacated
and soon there were no
long queues at the gas stations
and price of oil was
brought down by scared Arab nations
and people like me,
were happy again
because air travel
was again a bargain
But the kings of the air
they said they were still making losses
and air tickets were still
kept dear by aeroplane bosses
And then, out of nowhere
came a man called Otis
he said he was selling
the Mahatma's glasses
and chappals and teeth and what not
to the highest bidder
suddenly through the country
passed a collective shudder
People took to the streets
to convice the government
to bring back our heritage at all costs
trash all development
The government were not sure
exactly what to do
Otis said spend on the poor
and take them without a sou
But if they had had
any money to spare
they would have offered a drink
to every poor, elections were near
And then rose our man
our knight in shining armour
he decided to spend
sitting in a French parlour
He paid a million dollars
and then paid some more
for an old chappal, specs and teeth
of a man considered pure
But that beer baron
that king of red planes
from where did he earn it
from where it all came?
Its we who payed
for all that booze
and we who spent money
to go and air cruise
So we can be proud
we can lay claim
after all when fuel was cheaper
we still paid the same
But if only we had spent
all that money for progress
that man would have been happier
if there was no one without a dress.
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