I have earlier written about how my friends recognized my love for cricket but not my talent for the game. Here is yet another evidence of this.
My building Punam where I lived for about three decades was renowned for its circket team. Also, the Punam team was not drawn from just the residents of the building but also included many people from the adjoining buildings. Since talent was the criteria for getting into the team, I was more out of the team than in it. In fact barring the unexpected, I never was in the team.
The only time I found myself in the team was whenever there was a shortage of people. During one such occasion I was asked to join the team. I protested saying that the moment another person came along even if I was originally a part of the team, I was soon evicted. This time I was assured that no such thing would happen. So off we went to a playground nearby to play the match.
The match began with our fielding first and I was stationed at first slip. In the early stage of the game one of the opening batsmen from the opposite team nicked one and the ball was traveling my way. To everyone’s surprise, including my own, I took the catch. Nitya was out. Suddenly a couple of other regular Punam players who were not a part of the original team appeared... Sure enough standard procedure was employed. I was out of the team and a newcomer took my place.
I walked back and stood near Nitya who was obviously upset about his early decision. When he saw me, he remarked, “What was the use of taking my catch. Both of us are out now”
I must confess that since I myself was upset the humour of the situation did not occur to me. Later on I had a good laugh over Nitya’s comment. To this day whenever I narrate this story to anyone, it never fails to induce a smile, if not a laugh.
Maybe I am not the most talented cricketer alone but the game has given me one of my most cherished moments.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
1983: A Cricket Story
“ You people are always negative where India is concerned. Of course, India can do it”, said my mother. My brother chimed in, “ Yes, India has the capacity to win.”
They were both referring to the chances of India winning the Cricket World Cup of 1983. Considering that India had done poorly in the two previous editions –1975 and 1979—the confidence evinced by my mother and brother seemed quite misplaced. “This is confidence born out of ignorance. India just doesn’t have the ability to do this,” I retorted. After all the West Indies who were the winners of the two previous cups were at the peak of their prowess. Not only was their bowling awesome their batting included the likes of the legendary Vivian Richards, the captain Clive Lloyd and the resplendent opening pair of Gordon Greenidge and Desmond Haynes.
India of course had big names like Sunil Gavaskar and Kapil Dev but as a unit they did not inspire confidence in me. History is witness to the fact that I was wrong and completely wrong. I was in good company too with practically every cricketing aficionado agreeing with me. The only person who seemed to have any inkling about India’s prowess was the then Australian Captain Kim Hughes who said that India was the dark horses of the tournament.
India not only won the World Cup in but did it in style by defeating the West Indies by 43 runs. As the drama of the final unfolded all of us at home reached for sugar as there were no sweets at home. Everyone had forgotten as to who had predicted what. As I slipped sugar into my mouth the taste of being proved wrong was never sweeter. It was one of the happiest moments of my life although I had been proved thoroughly wrong..
They were both referring to the chances of India winning the Cricket World Cup of 1983. Considering that India had done poorly in the two previous editions –1975 and 1979—the confidence evinced by my mother and brother seemed quite misplaced. “This is confidence born out of ignorance. India just doesn’t have the ability to do this,” I retorted. After all the West Indies who were the winners of the two previous cups were at the peak of their prowess. Not only was their bowling awesome their batting included the likes of the legendary Vivian Richards, the captain Clive Lloyd and the resplendent opening pair of Gordon Greenidge and Desmond Haynes.
India of course had big names like Sunil Gavaskar and Kapil Dev but as a unit they did not inspire confidence in me. History is witness to the fact that I was wrong and completely wrong. I was in good company too with practically every cricketing aficionado agreeing with me. The only person who seemed to have any inkling about India’s prowess was the then Australian Captain Kim Hughes who said that India was the dark horses of the tournament.
India not only won the World Cup in but did it in style by defeating the West Indies by 43 runs. As the drama of the final unfolded all of us at home reached for sugar as there were no sweets at home. Everyone had forgotten as to who had predicted what. As I slipped sugar into my mouth the taste of being proved wrong was never sweeter. It was one of the happiest moments of my life although I had been proved thoroughly wrong..
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Kanna
My earliest memory of Kanna goes back to childhood. He was escorting me around in the scooter meant for kids, which was so much a part of growing up in those days. My latter day memories of Kanna consist of meeting him practically every day during my teenage days in the eighties. Adolescent that I was the early part of the eighties was truly my summer of 1942. Kanna and I of course discussed the great adolescent obsession—girls.
During this period Kanna introduced me to the delights of listening to Mohammad Rafi and the joy of watching Shammi Kapoor on screen. Rafi and Shammi Kapoor are now an enduring part of my consciousness.
More importantly through Kanna, I also met Shridhar who to this day remains one of my closest friends and whose advice has stood me in good stead over the years.
As we got busy with our respective careers (Kanna was a CA while I became a journalist) our meetings over the years reduced. After marriage and parenting we hardly met each other. On the few occasions we met, he made no secret of his joy at meeting me.
It was a rude shock when about five months back, I came to know that he had been diagnosed with Cancer and was fighting for his life in hospital. A quick visit to the hospital and I managed to see him on his bed. He was on life support systems and far from the happy soul of my adolescence.
Even then when four days later I heard the news of his death, I was shocked. The mind had continued to hope against hope.
To make matters worse, on that day I could not even attend his funeral due to my professional commitments and heavy traffic on the roads. I felt that I owed this to Kanna. Farewell dear friend. Time will no doubt heal this wound as it does all others. A friend like you perhaps will never be a part of my life again.
During this period Kanna introduced me to the delights of listening to Mohammad Rafi and the joy of watching Shammi Kapoor on screen. Rafi and Shammi Kapoor are now an enduring part of my consciousness.
More importantly through Kanna, I also met Shridhar who to this day remains one of my closest friends and whose advice has stood me in good stead over the years.
As we got busy with our respective careers (Kanna was a CA while I became a journalist) our meetings over the years reduced. After marriage and parenting we hardly met each other. On the few occasions we met, he made no secret of his joy at meeting me.
It was a rude shock when about five months back, I came to know that he had been diagnosed with Cancer and was fighting for his life in hospital. A quick visit to the hospital and I managed to see him on his bed. He was on life support systems and far from the happy soul of my adolescence.
Even then when four days later I heard the news of his death, I was shocked. The mind had continued to hope against hope.
To make matters worse, on that day I could not even attend his funeral due to my professional commitments and heavy traffic on the roads. I felt that I owed this to Kanna. Farewell dear friend. Time will no doubt heal this wound as it does all others. A friend like you perhaps will never be a part of my life again.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Raja, Cigarettes & Zyban
A few days back I went to see my friend Raja in hospital. It was a piteous sight. Raja was in coma after a motor cycle accident, a couple of months back. His mother in-law and two other relatives were there. The one sign of improvement in the last few days was that he was now able to move his eyes although he still could not recognize people. Suddenly, he had a coughing fit at which one of his relatives remarked about Raja’s chain smoking habits.
This took me back in time to my own travails with smoking. I was a smoker for about 17 years and I chain smoked for about 12 years. It was a visit to a hospital that convinced me of the error of my ways. I was admitted in hospital after I complained of chest pain. I was just 35 years old and not even married. My heartbeat was monitored on a minute to minute basis. It was at that point that I made a decision.. If I got out of the hospital without any damage, I would give up smoking. Luckily, I was diagnosed as only suffering from hyper-acidity and was soon out of hospital. Much as I wanted to quit, I realized that it was proving to be impossible. The urge was quite simply too strong.
It was then that I decided to take the help of a drug which had been launched by Glaxo-Zyban. The company had made it absolutely clear that the drug should be taken under medical supervision. I guess in the end it was 50 per cent Zyban and 50 per cent will power that helped me kick the habit. Almost immediately my life changed. In about six months my marriage was fixed. Till that point, it was proving to be an elusive quest. I was reminded of what an acquaintance had told me—“Quit smoking, it will change your life.”
I pray and hope that my friend Raja (who is incidentally married) comes out of his coma and then quits smoking. For him it would not be just a life changing experience but quite really a new life.
This took me back in time to my own travails with smoking. I was a smoker for about 17 years and I chain smoked for about 12 years. It was a visit to a hospital that convinced me of the error of my ways. I was admitted in hospital after I complained of chest pain. I was just 35 years old and not even married. My heartbeat was monitored on a minute to minute basis. It was at that point that I made a decision.. If I got out of the hospital without any damage, I would give up smoking. Luckily, I was diagnosed as only suffering from hyper-acidity and was soon out of hospital. Much as I wanted to quit, I realized that it was proving to be impossible. The urge was quite simply too strong.
It was then that I decided to take the help of a drug which had been launched by Glaxo-Zyban. The company had made it absolutely clear that the drug should be taken under medical supervision. I guess in the end it was 50 per cent Zyban and 50 per cent will power that helped me kick the habit. Almost immediately my life changed. In about six months my marriage was fixed. Till that point, it was proving to be an elusive quest. I was reminded of what an acquaintance had told me—“Quit smoking, it will change your life.”
I pray and hope that my friend Raja (who is incidentally married) comes out of his coma and then quits smoking. For him it would not be just a life changing experience but quite really a new life.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A Bonus and a Tragedy
It was to have been one of the happiest moments of my life. Fate however willed otherwise.
After many years I was to receive a performance linked incentive (PLI) or a bonus as some would call it. I got a sudden call on my cell phone from my boss wanting to see me urgently.
When I entered his room he was all smiles as he gave me a cheque saying that this was my PLI cheque. I saw the amount and could not help remarking “ This is a good amount”. I smiled back in appreciation and went back to my seat.
In a short time everything turned upside down. The news channels had started flashing the news of trains in Mumbai being bombed. It was July 11, 2006 and terrorists had bombed a number of trains in Mumbai. I huddled alongwith my colleagues and tried to catch the news. The tragedy was to eventually claim 187 lives –that of innocent people whose only crime was that they had boarded a train as they went about the daily business of earning a living.
It was soon time for me to respond to frantic phone calls from my home and assure every one that I was safe. I sat quite late in the office and left for home with another colleague who went by car. No trying to take the evening train for me on that day.
It was to have been one more addition in my cup of joy. Another piece of happiness to be added to a 14 month period when I had switched careers, become a father and bought a house. Alas, that wasn’t to be. The memory of the first substantial bonus cheque was forever marred by the tragedy that hit Mumbai on that day.
After many years I was to receive a performance linked incentive (PLI) or a bonus as some would call it. I got a sudden call on my cell phone from my boss wanting to see me urgently.
When I entered his room he was all smiles as he gave me a cheque saying that this was my PLI cheque. I saw the amount and could not help remarking “ This is a good amount”. I smiled back in appreciation and went back to my seat.
In a short time everything turned upside down. The news channels had started flashing the news of trains in Mumbai being bombed. It was July 11, 2006 and terrorists had bombed a number of trains in Mumbai. I huddled alongwith my colleagues and tried to catch the news. The tragedy was to eventually claim 187 lives –that of innocent people whose only crime was that they had boarded a train as they went about the daily business of earning a living.
It was soon time for me to respond to frantic phone calls from my home and assure every one that I was safe. I sat quite late in the office and left for home with another colleague who went by car. No trying to take the evening train for me on that day.
It was to have been one more addition in my cup of joy. Another piece of happiness to be added to a 14 month period when I had switched careers, become a father and bought a house. Alas, that wasn’t to be. The memory of the first substantial bonus cheque was forever marred by the tragedy that hit Mumbai on that day.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Cats, Mirrors and Raju
“This has never happened before,” Raju exclaimed as he surveyed the rear view mirror of his car in my hands.
All I had done was run my hand through the rear view mirror and presto it was in my hand. This put us in a piquant position. Rajus’s parents had gone to meet a doctor leaving both of us in the car. The immediate task was to restore the rear view mirror to its original position. Although Raju was no engineer, he managed to fix the mirror back before his parents came.
This is an enduring memory in a friendship that is over a quarter century old. Raju and I came into contact in 1981 when both of us joined the same college in Mumbai. In the first year we were mere acquaintances and realized that we had some common interests like a love of the English language. Acquaintance deepened into friendship in the second year It has continued to this day. Over the years, Raju went on to do his MBA and I went on to become a communications professional .
If in the previous instance I was the culprit, there have been times where Raju’s honorable ideas have clearly not lived up to their potential. Like the cat business for instance. A cat had strayed into one of the rooms of his ground floor flat and quite naturally, he wanted to evict it from his premises. How I got roped into the endeavour, I shall never comprehend. After a couple of abortive attempts I had to inform Raju that I could not assist him further in his endeavour. More so after one of the cat’s mews suspiciously sounded like the roar of another specimen of the cat family.
There were of course other lesser efforts which he roped me in. One of them was to place the order for the gas cylinder. Those were the days when piped gas was unavailable and cylinders were in short supply. One in fact had to remember a rather long number. I always managed to remember his gas number but not mine. So often did I find myself accompanying him for booking his cylinder.
On balance I must say that he has been a real friend who has been there for me every time I needed him. Raju is one of the very few persons who has managed to influence my life. I mean, convincing me to do things other than just chasing cats.
All I had done was run my hand through the rear view mirror and presto it was in my hand. This put us in a piquant position. Rajus’s parents had gone to meet a doctor leaving both of us in the car. The immediate task was to restore the rear view mirror to its original position. Although Raju was no engineer, he managed to fix the mirror back before his parents came.
This is an enduring memory in a friendship that is over a quarter century old. Raju and I came into contact in 1981 when both of us joined the same college in Mumbai. In the first year we were mere acquaintances and realized that we had some common interests like a love of the English language. Acquaintance deepened into friendship in the second year It has continued to this day. Over the years, Raju went on to do his MBA and I went on to become a communications professional .
If in the previous instance I was the culprit, there have been times where Raju’s honorable ideas have clearly not lived up to their potential. Like the cat business for instance. A cat had strayed into one of the rooms of his ground floor flat and quite naturally, he wanted to evict it from his premises. How I got roped into the endeavour, I shall never comprehend. After a couple of abortive attempts I had to inform Raju that I could not assist him further in his endeavour. More so after one of the cat’s mews suspiciously sounded like the roar of another specimen of the cat family.
There were of course other lesser efforts which he roped me in. One of them was to place the order for the gas cylinder. Those were the days when piped gas was unavailable and cylinders were in short supply. One in fact had to remember a rather long number. I always managed to remember his gas number but not mine. So often did I find myself accompanying him for booking his cylinder.
On balance I must say that he has been a real friend who has been there for me every time I needed him. Raju is one of the very few persons who has managed to influence my life. I mean, convincing me to do things other than just chasing cats.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
At The Temple
Sometime back, I went to the Balaji temple at Nerul in Navi Mumbai along with my family and some relatives.
As I closed my eyes in prayer I saw a child, perhaps three or four years old. What struck me about the child was a particular look in his eyes, perhaps a vacant look. As soon as I opened my eyes, I again saw the same child. I have seen enough of these looks to understand that the child had some kind of a mental problem.
I could not help feeling relieved at that point. My son Sanjiv who was two years old at that time was playing in the background with some relatives. My wife was praying. Suddenly my mind went back to the time when my wife was carrying my son. At that point, I was very apprehensive that my child to be born would have some mental deformity. There was no reason for me to think thus but I was totally apprehensive. I even contemplated doing some tests to ascertain whether this was indeed the case till my wife
put her foot down.
Suddenly I could not help feeling blessed in life. My son is a normal kid, my domestic life is good and my job is well pretty good too. What was I really complaining about? Here are persons in life who carry a cross not knowing what the destination is many times.
A few minutes earlier, I had seen another child around Sanjiv’s age with whom he was trying to get friendly. I could not help noticing that the child had a protruding belly-the result of malnutrition.
I suddenly realized that as I waited for the priest to open the curtains, that would help us glimpse the deity, that life is quite good after all. In a country of a billion people in which half the population lived below the poverty line cribbing about relatively minor professional and personal problems was tantamount to a crime if not a sin.
I realized then that life is not about the constant search for more but one had to practise contentment too. This alone would lead to happiness. As the priest rolled up the curtains, I bowed my head in thanksgiving to the lord. Perhaps such an important lesson could have been learnt only at a temple.
As I closed my eyes in prayer I saw a child, perhaps three or four years old. What struck me about the child was a particular look in his eyes, perhaps a vacant look. As soon as I opened my eyes, I again saw the same child. I have seen enough of these looks to understand that the child had some kind of a mental problem.
I could not help feeling relieved at that point. My son Sanjiv who was two years old at that time was playing in the background with some relatives. My wife was praying. Suddenly my mind went back to the time when my wife was carrying my son. At that point, I was very apprehensive that my child to be born would have some mental deformity. There was no reason for me to think thus but I was totally apprehensive. I even contemplated doing some tests to ascertain whether this was indeed the case till my wife
put her foot down.
Suddenly I could not help feeling blessed in life. My son is a normal kid, my domestic life is good and my job is well pretty good too. What was I really complaining about? Here are persons in life who carry a cross not knowing what the destination is many times.
A few minutes earlier, I had seen another child around Sanjiv’s age with whom he was trying to get friendly. I could not help noticing that the child had a protruding belly-the result of malnutrition.
I suddenly realized that as I waited for the priest to open the curtains, that would help us glimpse the deity, that life is quite good after all. In a country of a billion people in which half the population lived below the poverty line cribbing about relatively minor professional and personal problems was tantamount to a crime if not a sin.
I realized then that life is not about the constant search for more but one had to practise contentment too. This alone would lead to happiness. As the priest rolled up the curtains, I bowed my head in thanksgiving to the lord. Perhaps such an important lesson could have been learnt only at a temple.
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