"buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz", the alarm on my mobile phone goes off..."buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"...I pick it up, switch off the alarm and look at the time...11am...good, that means I've slept for 4 hours for the second consecutive day...7 am is when I hit the sack last night (or this morning?)...I had been preparing my presentations for the tutorial I was giving at the Danish Neuroscience Center, Aarhus, Denmark on "advanced methods of EEG analysis"...I had prepared the outline on Sunday and expected to have prepared the presentations by Tuesday night...instead, I still had stuff to finish this morning, Wednesday, and I had a flight to catch at 7:45 pm ! I wake up, stretch myself, take my towel and go down to bathe...
come back up, change, go down and make myself a cereal-breakfast...I usually also have an orange juice if I'm running on time, but not today...get my Denmark clothes out, give it to the nearby ironing place and ask to have it ready by 2:30 pm...make my way to the University...I reach at 12 noon, Lizz is already in the office when I enter, she seems surprised to see me...I have about 3 hours to finish my work...any longer would put me in danger of missing my flight...start working...the brain is surprisingly fresh, the concepts clear, but progress is slow...as usual, I've underestimated the amount I had to do...I focus, trying to find a balance between quality and speed...the clock ticks past 3 pm, still work to do...no option but to finish it...4 pm and I finally finish...copy everything onto a memory stick, print out my boarding passes, check my passport is with me, say bye to Lizz and rush out...
pick up my clothes...the ironing guy rolls his eyes at my late-ness...get to the house, pack and call for a taxi...the taxi driver is a friend, we happily chat on the way and we reach the train station...byes and up the stairs, buy the ticket and get on the train to London...reach London at 5:30 pm, get to Liverpool Street by 6 pm and take the train to London Stansted...7:05 pm is the cut-off time to reach the baggage check-in at Stansted, I'm confident I'll reach in time...6:30 pm... 6:45 pm and the train stops at a station...well in time...not so soon ! it isn't Stansted yet, Stansted is two stations away!...the train starts again...for the first time, it dawns on me that I'm in serious danger of missing my flight...what would my supervisor say ?? will he ever fund me a trip again ?? will I be able to get a refund on my tickets ?? 6:55 pm, 7:00...the train pulls up...Stansted ! I run out, into the airport, into the departure lounge...all baggage check-in counters closed, except for one...I rush in and hand my baggage in, apologising...checked-in...I have 7 minutes to make it to the boarding gate...I run, without my bag this time, a small boy in front hears my rapid steps and alerts his Mom to get out of the way, the escalator is full, so I tear up the stairs...my gate is no. 44, there are 99 gates in all....7:10...up the stairs and down the gangway...gate 40, 42, 44...phew ! its 7:14 and people have already started queueing to get into the flight...I fall into line...
into the flight, first time I'm flying on one of these budget airlines...looks more comfortable than I expected...I get a window-seat...am joined by a Danish guy presently...written right across his T-shirt is, "God is great, give glory to Him"...no problems with starting a conversation...he's friendly, earnest and encourages me to go all out for God...we chat and I sleep..."We are now approaching Aarhus" declares the captain on the loud-speaker...get out, get my bag and go into the arrival lounge...there's my supervisor, Doug and there's his friend...how good of them to come receive me :)...not sure whether to shake hands with Doug or hug him, we shake hands...am introduced to Doug's friend, Prof. Sten Vikner from the Linguistics Department...take an instant liking to him...a gentle, smiling, lean, intelligent, cultured man...
we start the drive back...the steering wheel is on the left...conversation is about how Aarhus is the perennial younger brother to the capital, Copenhagen, in all matters...we reach the city and I peer out...yellow-brick buildings, wide clean roads, neatly lined with trees...the traffic moves slowly and orderly-ly...but its dark and I can't see much more...we reach my guest house, they show me to my room and leave...
the room has a large oval-window looking out into a larger part of Aarhus, the room is clean, comfortable, well-equipped and has that 'quality' feel to it...I make my bed and settle down to sleep, feeling fortunate for even having gotten this far...I'll have to wake up the next morning and mentally rehearse the first of my presentations...
"buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"...its 7:30 am, get into the bathroom and have trouble squeezing toothpaste out of my almost-empty toothpaste tube...am I going to have enough to last the next two days ? finish my stuff and come out...its 8:30...need to be downstairs by 9:15...the rehearsal doesn't take long and I feel confident about the presentation, in fact, more confident than I've ever felt...
get picked up by Doug and go to the Centre...classy centre...everything is new and everything is spacious, white and tasteful...what fun it must be to work here ! they even have a place that serves breakfast...go down and get breakfast...maaaaan, what a spread ! pastries galore and bacon and ham and some other unknown forms of meat...I take a little bit of everything, some yoghurt and some fruit juice...I'm usually at my most uninhibited in my first few moments in a new place, this was one of those times...one by one, I finish off the stuff....the best breakfast I've had in a long time :)
upstairs and to the seminar room where we're running the workshop...the people start filing in, 14 in all...different kinds...some Americans, some Mexicans, mostly Danish....Doug is on first, I'm doing the first session in the afternoon...Doug starts and in his own style, weaves a story of the brain, different scales of studying it, different methodologies for studying it, and why ERPs are a useful methodology...impressive stuff...I remember how much in awe I was when I first heard it...a master-class on ERPs, but also a master-class on how to construct a presentation...
we go down to lunch and I'm a bit tense...I'm on next...how's it going to go ?? finish lunch and head back up...I'm on...I feel the expectant eyes on me and I start...from initially being relaxed, my brain goes into mildly-agitated mode...thoughts in the head are not fuzzy but they're not clear either, the delivery is not mixed-up but its not clear and precise either...and the odd stutter happens...I talk fast, for some reason thinking I have less time than I do...and do not feel like I have my students 'with me'...the presentation is well-constructed and neat and I had prepared my delivery, so the general impression is fair, but this is not how I had intended it to go...I havn't properly managed to illumine the relevant concepts :(
I finish and try to sense the the general mood...decidedly neutral...Doug seems fairly happy but is he just faking it ? I have a chance to make amends tomorrow...tomorrow's are the really important presentations anyway...but I'm not a happy camper...
I attend a guest lecture in the Centre for Semiotics....the lecture was supposed to be on 'meaning', but the speaker decided at the last-minute, to change it to 'consciousness as it relates to cognition' ! only in academia...
interesting lecture, lots of speculative theories, lots of familiar ideas repackaged as new, but consciousness has been studied for so long that recycled ideas are inevitable...the speaker made a particularly interesting point that I hadn't thought of in that way...that just as the brain can be considered a network of lower-level networks, society can be viewed as a network of brains, just one level up in the hierarchy of networks...a whole new way of understanding collective intelligence...
the guest lecture finishes and we go out to dinner...Doug, Sten, Tomas (Sten's son), Ken,myself and two others...the restaurant is beautiful...the bricks on the walls visible, low music, dim lighting...the waiter comes up and suggests a two-course meal, full of French-sounding names, all delicious, we accept without hesitation...the food arrives...salmon, beef, venison, a dish that looks like pizza but tastes much better, delicious gravies...and that's just the first course ! we eat to our heart's content, comfortable conversation, and leave...
we come out onto the street...a cobbled street, the street lamps are elegantly designed and give off a warm yellow glow, at the end of the street is a tall Cathedral with two moss-green spires...on the left is the Arts Centre, people just going into it for the last performance of the day...a cyclist passes by...I feel the unmistakeable charm of a small European town...full of culture and taste, the people having known nothing but the highest standards of living and order and politeness and efficiency, a society which has figured out what it wants and has collectively achieved it...a rich, varied and healthy life...
I get dropped back to my guest-room and go to bed...decide to wake up early the next morning to give myself enough time to mentally rehearse the presentations...wake up, go to the bathroom and this time, the toothpaste tube does put up a fight...I decide to attack from the bottom...slowly and systematically, I push any paste from the bottom of the tube to the top, using my index fingers to hold the tube and my thumbs to push the paste up...success ! a blob falls out onto the toothbrush...what am I going to do tomorrow ??
come out and look at the presentation...today's presentation is a hard one, many difficult concepts to explain, I decide to just focus on talkly slowly and clearly...look at the time, its 9:30 am ! the presentation starts at 10:15 am and I have to get there myself today...I take the map and start out, reach the Centre about 9:55 am, but can't find the elusive entrance because it shares a building with the Hospital...20 minutes to go...I frantically search, asking people, but nobody seems to know....one of the Hospital watchmen points me to the hospital EEG facility...no!...its 10 am..."ahoy there !", I hear somebody call...its one of the students from yesterday, smiling at me :)...he can see I'm lost...he points me in the right direction and says he'll join me in a while...I go up and Doug is waiting for me worried, I hurriedly apologise, load my presentation and get ready, a little out of breath....
the students arrive and its time to start...Doug had finished his presentations yesterday, so its going to be me the whole day today...Doug hands me control of the lap-top...here goes...I start and start well...the breathing is slow and I'm able to relax, the thoughts are clear and the speech is precise and measured...I come to the difficult part of the presentation, slow down even more and invest effort into explaining it, I'm rewarded by the light of comprehension in quite a few eyes...they can see how the method works, how cool it is and what cool things they can do with it ! I can also feel Doug's approbation...I continue talking for 2 hours and we split for lunch...Doug comes up and tells me I did a 'good job' :)...yesss ! after lunch, the plan is to demonstrate conducting a real EEG experiment after which the plan is to demonstrate some data analysis...the EEG experiment goes smoothly and then, its onto the data analysis...we open up MATLAB, project it on the big screen and after getting over some hassles with importing the data, I do some MATLAB programming and analysis on the lap-top, while everything I'm typing and all the graphs I'm inspecting, are being watched by 14 pairs of eyes on the big-screen...thankfully, there are no slip-ups and the results of the analysis are decidedly impressive....I can feel the general mood of the audience turn from appreciation to admiration...we've impressed...
its 4 'o' clock, the end of the workshop, Doug gives some closing comments...and then, we get a spontaneous round of applause...it was spontaneous because it started simultaneously and went on for longer than it would have, if it was polite applause...Doug and I look at each other and smile :)
students come up and tell us how much they enjoyed the workshop, and Doug, me and Ken chat about the past two days and other things...I'm quite talkative, mainly from the pressure release and the satisfaction of having done something well...it makes suchhhh a difference...we go to Sten's office and decide to go shopping, then dinner and head home...
we visit a mall...I buy a key-ring for a friend and a top for my sister...and find a Chinese restaurant to eat at...an all-you-can-eat-buffet...conversation is relaxed...Sten and Doug have known each since their PhD days at MIT 22 years ago...they tease each other, pull each other's legs and argue about linguistic anomalies...beneath all this banter, it is also easy to sense the mutual respect and affection of a genuine friendship...when I'm their age, those are the kind of friendships I want to have built up...
I get dropped off at home in a decidedly euphoric mood...the workshop has gone well, my supervisor is happy with me, some of the students in the Centre want to collaborate with us because of our analysis expertise...a couple in the guest-room next to mine are having a shouting match but it hardly makes a difference to my frame-of-mind :)...I pick up the Bible and turn to a page randomly...
Psalm 128
A song of ascents.
1 Blessed are all who fear the LORD, who walk in his ways.
2 You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours.
3 Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your sons will be like olive shoots around your table.
4 Thus is the man blessed who fears the LORD.
5 May the LORD bless you from Zion all the days of your life; may you see the prosperity of Jerusalem,
6 and may you live to see your children's children. Peace be upon Israel.
I'm not one for dramatic Biblical moments...I like to think of myself as relying more on the God-instituted means of hard-work and perseverance rather than relying on his miraculous intervention in my life on a daily basis...but in this case, I did feel like I had turned onto a page that was meant for me to read...and felt that God was simply saying that, as long as I fear Him and walk in His ways, everything will be fine :)...family life, professional life, everything...but only if I fear Him and walk in His ways
I read a bit of Discovery of India by Jawaharlal Nehru, and go to sleep...wake up the next morning...we're leaving at 1:30 and they're picking me up at 11 am... go to the bathroom and its time for the final battle in the toothpaste war...I roll up my sleeves, look hard at the tube, and start pushing paste upwards from the bottom...no result...could it be that there is absolutely no paste left in the tube ? and could it be that I will have to travel today without brushing my teeth ? it wouldn't be a first, I have visited the House of Commons without brushing my teeth...I decide on a different strategy...I fold the tube along its longitudinal axis, and push the paste upward...Hercules couldn't have expended more energy when he was holding the earth above his shoulders....then, I hold the neck of the tube like a syringe and try to squirt the paste out...a bit of paste bobs its head out and bobs back into the tube...hope ! ...I place the toothbrush directly below and squirt hard again....a massive blob comes and lands on the brush...at Aarhus, Denmark, I gave a tutorial on EEG analysis for 2 days and coaxed toothpaste out of an empty tube for 3 days :)
I finish and come out...pack up, eat the grapes Doug bought me for breakfast, clean the room and go out to wait for Doug and Sten...they arrive presently and we begin the drive to the airport...Doug and Sten in the front, chatting away happily, me in the back, listening to them and also looking at the beautiful bright autumn colours of the leaves...we enter the countryside and I start reflecting on the trip...what have I learnt ? on a professional level, I've learnt how important it is to talk slowly and clearly while giving presentations....on a personal level, I've learnt a lot about how to conduct genuine relationships and live enjoyable middle-class lives, by watching Doug and Sten....on a spiritual level, I've learnt that it is the most important thing to fear God and do what is right in His eyes, and everything else will fall into place...just as they always have.
Amen.
Saturday 24 October 2009
Friday 5 June 2009
The Orange Country and their cricket team
"Well, what an opening match we've had, ladies and gents. It's all coming down to the last over. Seven to win for Netherlands! Who'd have predicted this? Not I, sir.", screamed Cricinfo's commentator Will Luke excitedly, and understandably so. The Netherlands were within touching distance of a famous victory and nobody could believe it. This was, after all, The Netherlands and this opening match was supposed to get England off to a winning start ! On a cricketing level, it was unexpected in the extreme, an impending upset as big as any in recent times. Or was it...?
Notwithstanding their cricketing credentials, was there anything about the characteristics of the Dutch people that might have predicted this upset ?
The idea that the national characteristics of a country's people is often expressed in a sporting arena is well accepted. Brazil's footballers play the game with the generous spontaneity that defines their people. The new-found confidence of the current Indian cricket team is also thought to reflect the changing attitudes of a nation on the rise. What then, about Holland ? Is there anything in the national or sporting history of Holland that would explain this remarkable upset ?
It turns out that there is. If ever there was a country that could be characterised as David who killed Goliath, it is Holland.
Throughout history, the Dutch have made a habit of surprising people who have underestimated them. The country itself was formed as a result of 17 small provinces joining forces against the might of the Spanish Army. 7 of these would later combine to form The Netherlands. During World War II also, Hitler's advances into Europe faced stiff and unexpected resistance from the Dutch, with the Dutch winning several local battles and inflicting heavy losses on the German Luftwaffe and Airborne regiments.
In a sporting context also, the Dutch have always enjoyed killing giants. After a slow and steady improvement in their national football team in the 1960's, they made a quantum leap in the 1970's by playing their unique brand of 'Total Football', beating teams like Brazil, Argentina and Italy on their way to two consecutive World Cup finals (1974 and 1978). The Dutch hockey team also, was one of the teams responsible in the 1980's for breaking the stranglehold that India and Pakistan had on the game.
If ever there were a people that punched above their weight, it is the Dutch. Despite the relatively small population of 16.5 million (approximately quarter of the the UK) and a size of 42,000 squared kilometres (approximately one sixth of the UK), it boasts the 16th largest economy in the world and the 10th highest GDP in the world. The strength of character of the Dutch people is also evident. To deal with the risk of flooding in low-lying areas that account for a large portion of the country, they implemented the Delta Project, constructing an extensive system of 'dykes' in one of the largest construction efforts in human history.
In cricket, they hadn't caused any major upsets until today. However, as an Indian, I remember their strong performance against India in the 2003 World Cup, keeping us down to 204 batting first, with a disciplined bowling performance. In only their second match in International cricket, they put in a strong performance against England, scoring 230 in pursuit of 280 for victory. Those were One-day Internationals, where the requirement for sustained execution of skills was perhaps more than they could manage. Ironically, the Twenty20 format, in lessening the influence of skill levels might inadvertently have allowed for the increased influence of determination and character on the final outcome. The Dutch won't be complaining.
Notwithstanding their cricketing credentials, was there anything about the characteristics of the Dutch people that might have predicted this upset ?
The idea that the national characteristics of a country's people is often expressed in a sporting arena is well accepted. Brazil's footballers play the game with the generous spontaneity that defines their people. The new-found confidence of the current Indian cricket team is also thought to reflect the changing attitudes of a nation on the rise. What then, about Holland ? Is there anything in the national or sporting history of Holland that would explain this remarkable upset ?
It turns out that there is. If ever there was a country that could be characterised as David who killed Goliath, it is Holland.
Throughout history, the Dutch have made a habit of surprising people who have underestimated them. The country itself was formed as a result of 17 small provinces joining forces against the might of the Spanish Army. 7 of these would later combine to form The Netherlands. During World War II also, Hitler's advances into Europe faced stiff and unexpected resistance from the Dutch, with the Dutch winning several local battles and inflicting heavy losses on the German Luftwaffe and Airborne regiments.
In a sporting context also, the Dutch have always enjoyed killing giants. After a slow and steady improvement in their national football team in the 1960's, they made a quantum leap in the 1970's by playing their unique brand of 'Total Football', beating teams like Brazil, Argentina and Italy on their way to two consecutive World Cup finals (1974 and 1978). The Dutch hockey team also, was one of the teams responsible in the 1980's for breaking the stranglehold that India and Pakistan had on the game.
If ever there were a people that punched above their weight, it is the Dutch. Despite the relatively small population of 16.5 million (approximately quarter of the the UK) and a size of 42,000 squared kilometres (approximately one sixth of the UK), it boasts the 16th largest economy in the world and the 10th highest GDP in the world. The strength of character of the Dutch people is also evident. To deal with the risk of flooding in low-lying areas that account for a large portion of the country, they implemented the Delta Project, constructing an extensive system of 'dykes' in one of the largest construction efforts in human history.
In cricket, they hadn't caused any major upsets until today. However, as an Indian, I remember their strong performance against India in the 2003 World Cup, keeping us down to 204 batting first, with a disciplined bowling performance. In only their second match in International cricket, they put in a strong performance against England, scoring 230 in pursuit of 280 for victory. Those were One-day Internationals, where the requirement for sustained execution of skills was perhaps more than they could manage. Ironically, the Twenty20 format, in lessening the influence of skill levels might inadvertently have allowed for the increased influence of determination and character on the final outcome. The Dutch won't be complaining.
Sunday 12 April 2009
What can galli cricket teach us ?
In a recent article, Rob Steen acknowledged what has been evident for some time now - that Twenty20 has indeed come into its own and should be regarded as a legitimate form of cricket. He points out that Twenty20, far from being an inferior form of the game, has actually improved the quality of some aspects of world cricket - fielding, decision-making and of course, power hitting. Simply reducing the number of overs per innings from 50 to 20, while maintaining the essential contest between bat and ball, has produced a game with different problems to solve - how to consistently score at 10 runs per over ? how to maintain energy levels in a scenario where every single ball is important ? Reducing the number of overs has necessitated different skills for consistent success - where Test cricket is about endurance, Twenty20 is about the ability to think on one's feet, where Test cricket is about wicket-taking, Twenty20 is about stemming the flow of runs even more than 50-over cricket is. Interestingly, skills developed through Twenty20 cricket have enhanced performance in other forms of the game - bowling yorkers in the death overs, maximising advantage from a Powerplay. Kevin Pieterson recently suggested that the IPL (Indian Premier League) experience had played a large part in India's recent ODI successes.
So, simply reducing the number of overs creates a different form of the game, requiring different skills, that can often be used to enhance performance in other forms of the game. What then would be the effect of further reducing the number of overs to 8, playing on a street rather than on a green open space, amidst traffic and bushes and lamp-posts ,with a stool instead of a set of stumps ? To put it another way, what is galli cricket, what different skills does it necessitate for success and is it sacrilegious to suggest that galli cricketers might even have something to teach their professional counterparts of decidedly higher natural ability ?
Ironically, galli cricket in some aspects, resembles cricket in its original form as invented by rural and artisan Englishman in the 19th century (as revealed by C.L.R. James in Beyond a Boundary). Then, stools and tree stumps were used for the set of stumps at the batsman's end, and so they are in galli cricket. Also used in galli cricket are bricks stacked on top of each other, chairs and actual stumps themselves. The aspect in which it differs from all other forms of cricket however, is the heterogeneity of the conditions it is played in. Every galli cricketer has his own native street where he plays most of his cricket. It is also true though, that every galli cricketer has been tested in a number of different streets, each with their own set of trees that block the ball, bushes that balls routinely get lost in and houses to avoid hitting the ball into. He has had to play on a variety of surfaces - tar, mud, cement, each presenting different challenges and on pitches of different lengths, determined by the longest strip of bare land on offer. He's played with different types of balls - the conventional tennis ball, the hard and the soft rubber ball , the hybrid 'cricket-tennis' ball and the occasional cork ball. He's had to run in to bowl with an auto-rickshaw motoring along beside him or had to concentrate on batting while the woman selling sweets was advertising them at the top of her voice.
Amidst all this, he's had to improvise strokes that will gain him runs inspite of the trees, bushes, lamp-posts and fielders conspiring against him. Or as a bowler, he's had to learn to intelligently place fields to compensate for the less-athletic of his counterparts. Overcoming obstacles and solving problems come naturally to the good galli cricketer. Inspite of all the variations in the conditions, he reminds himself of the constants - that cricket is about bat and ball and if he were batting, that he can hit a ball inspite of the lack of a sight-screen, amidst the traffic, between two inconvenient lamp-posts as long as he really wants to and really believes he can.
Galli cricket can be very unprofessional. Not for galli cricketers all the talk of 'bowling in good areas' and 'knowing where your off-stump is'. There are no ordered spells for bowlers and who goes in to bat next is decided only when a wicket falls. In that respect, galli cricket reflects the culture it has developed in - the sub-continental sporting culture emphasising spontaneity and flair rather than method and technique. As a result, one might not see the most consistent of performances or ruthless execution of plans in a galli cricket match. But what galli cricket lacks in professionalism, it makes up for in sheer unpredictability and moments of brilliance - impossible catches, astounding sixes that shouldn't have been and 'double hat-tricks'. Every galli cricketer realises that at one level, cricket is a game of instinct and shouldn't be over-complicated. So, he looks upon every performance as another opportunity to express himself and while doing it, to enjoy himself. He knows that in so doing lies his best chance of playing that match-winning innings or bowling that winning over. In his fantastic book 'What Sport Tells us About Life', Ed Smith refers to this as the 'tenet of amateurism'.
So, galli cricket at its best, can produce a special breed of cricketer. Batsmen who are intuitive judges of singles and can improvise the most outrageous cricket strokes. Robin Uthappa from the Indian cricket team, has talked about the role of galli cricket in developing a stroke he is well known for - walking down the wicket to a quick bowler, reaching the ball on the full and sending it over the bowler's head. Rashid Latif revealed last year that, much of Umar Gul's and Sohail Tanvir's bowling success in the World Twenty20 could be attributed to their previous experience of such matches in local tournaments in Karachi. But more than any particular technical cricket skill, galli cricket can improve a cricketer's adaptability and mental strength. It can aid him in ignoring the uncontrollables like the pitch, weather conditions and opposition, and make him focus on what he can control. Perhaps more importantly, it can teach him to free his mind and unshackle him from the fear of failure, allowing him to perform the seemingly impossible - just ask M.S. Dhoni how he hits yorkers for six !
So, simply reducing the number of overs creates a different form of the game, requiring different skills, that can often be used to enhance performance in other forms of the game. What then would be the effect of further reducing the number of overs to 8, playing on a street rather than on a green open space, amidst traffic and bushes and lamp-posts ,with a stool instead of a set of stumps ? To put it another way, what is galli cricket, what different skills does it necessitate for success and is it sacrilegious to suggest that galli cricketers might even have something to teach their professional counterparts of decidedly higher natural ability ?
Ironically, galli cricket in some aspects, resembles cricket in its original form as invented by rural and artisan Englishman in the 19th century (as revealed by C.L.R. James in Beyond a Boundary). Then, stools and tree stumps were used for the set of stumps at the batsman's end, and so they are in galli cricket. Also used in galli cricket are bricks stacked on top of each other, chairs and actual stumps themselves. The aspect in which it differs from all other forms of cricket however, is the heterogeneity of the conditions it is played in. Every galli cricketer has his own native street where he plays most of his cricket. It is also true though, that every galli cricketer has been tested in a number of different streets, each with their own set of trees that block the ball, bushes that balls routinely get lost in and houses to avoid hitting the ball into. He has had to play on a variety of surfaces - tar, mud, cement, each presenting different challenges and on pitches of different lengths, determined by the longest strip of bare land on offer. He's played with different types of balls - the conventional tennis ball, the hard and the soft rubber ball , the hybrid 'cricket-tennis' ball and the occasional cork ball. He's had to run in to bowl with an auto-rickshaw motoring along beside him or had to concentrate on batting while the woman selling sweets was advertising them at the top of her voice.
Amidst all this, he's had to improvise strokes that will gain him runs inspite of the trees, bushes, lamp-posts and fielders conspiring against him. Or as a bowler, he's had to learn to intelligently place fields to compensate for the less-athletic of his counterparts. Overcoming obstacles and solving problems come naturally to the good galli cricketer. Inspite of all the variations in the conditions, he reminds himself of the constants - that cricket is about bat and ball and if he were batting, that he can hit a ball inspite of the lack of a sight-screen, amidst the traffic, between two inconvenient lamp-posts as long as he really wants to and really believes he can.
Galli cricket can be very unprofessional. Not for galli cricketers all the talk of 'bowling in good areas' and 'knowing where your off-stump is'. There are no ordered spells for bowlers and who goes in to bat next is decided only when a wicket falls. In that respect, galli cricket reflects the culture it has developed in - the sub-continental sporting culture emphasising spontaneity and flair rather than method and technique. As a result, one might not see the most consistent of performances or ruthless execution of plans in a galli cricket match. But what galli cricket lacks in professionalism, it makes up for in sheer unpredictability and moments of brilliance - impossible catches, astounding sixes that shouldn't have been and 'double hat-tricks'. Every galli cricketer realises that at one level, cricket is a game of instinct and shouldn't be over-complicated. So, he looks upon every performance as another opportunity to express himself and while doing it, to enjoy himself. He knows that in so doing lies his best chance of playing that match-winning innings or bowling that winning over. In his fantastic book 'What Sport Tells us About Life', Ed Smith refers to this as the 'tenet of amateurism'.
So, galli cricket at its best, can produce a special breed of cricketer. Batsmen who are intuitive judges of singles and can improvise the most outrageous cricket strokes. Robin Uthappa from the Indian cricket team, has talked about the role of galli cricket in developing a stroke he is well known for - walking down the wicket to a quick bowler, reaching the ball on the full and sending it over the bowler's head. Rashid Latif revealed last year that, much of Umar Gul's and Sohail Tanvir's bowling success in the World Twenty20 could be attributed to their previous experience of such matches in local tournaments in Karachi. But more than any particular technical cricket skill, galli cricket can improve a cricketer's adaptability and mental strength. It can aid him in ignoring the uncontrollables like the pitch, weather conditions and opposition, and make him focus on what he can control. Perhaps more importantly, it can teach him to free his mind and unshackle him from the fear of failure, allowing him to perform the seemingly impossible - just ask M.S. Dhoni how he hits yorkers for six !
Friday 6 February 2009
the holiness of church and the unholiness of street-cricket
I wake up...its 6 am...Sunday morning...got to be at church by 8 am...feeling full of energy, decide to take a walk...walk straight down the road in front of my house, past Shiban's house, past the Kowloon and keep going till I reach a wall...touch the wall and start walking back...stop off at Annapoorna and have sambhar vada...eating food alone has its own charm about it, not least coz you can enjoy it fully...walk back, enter the house, say good morning to Inna...talk to her about the previous evening's prayer meeting and about my Christmas in UK...go upstairs...its 7:30 am...Amma and Appa are still in bed...Ammamma and Thatha have just woken up...to be at church on time, 6 of us have to have baths and dress up in 15 minutes...I relax when I realise its India and not the UK...time isn't as precious...we get to church at 8:30...
I see that my favourite seat on the left corner of the last row is empty and hurry to sit there...started sitting there when I was 15, with other boys from Sunday school and made it my home till I left to the UK at 22...settle down and focus on the service...we have a new Pastor, he seems alright...sing hymns from Golden Bells and enjoy the sheer meaningfulness of the lyrics...worship songs that we sing at my church in UK are nice, but nothing comes closer to expressing my deepest spiritual feelings as hymns...look around and see how beautiful the church is, the building and the garden...its very much like a typical classical church in the UK, but it seems even more beautiful coz its in the midst of India...the power of contrast
the service ends and I see Jerene coming to say hi...congratulate her on her engagement the previous day and ask her if she's excited about her wedding that coming Saturday...Natalie's parents come up and say hi...I enquire about Natalie and we discuss which particular tree in the garden Natalie and I climbed after service every week, when I was 4...Vasantha Aunty comes up and tells me she's brought out a book on Neural Networks, published by Springer-Link...wow ! I tell her I would retire if I were her...Mrs. Karunakaran comes up and we talk...her daughter was born on the same day as me and her son has the same name as me...
its time to go to the Youth meeting that my friend Ajay is organising...they've already started singing when I arrive...about 20 people, mostly college students...Ajay seems in command and is doing a good job...we go into a time of worship, led by Ajay...and then, Vasanth gives a message on the characteristics of immaturity...he is clear and powerful, he's thought his message through, believes what he says and says it with confidence...he speaks straight to the heart...I didn't know he was this good...later, my Dad tells me the company he heads is known for its integrity...quite encouraging to see Christians effectively put their faith into practise...the meeting ends and I go speak to Prithveen, probably my oldest friend in church...have known him as far back as I can remember...
the people start a volleyball game nearby, I excuse myself and leave coz Sudhakar Uncle is coming to lunch...walk to the station...have a tender-coconut water on the way...is there a better drink while walking in the scorching sun ? I reach the bus-station, get into the bus and buy my ticket...3 rupees...at least, something is still cheap in India...settle into my seat and again reflect on how the bus looks dirty but feels clean...get down and go home...
Sudhakar Uncle and family have already arrived, but thankfully havn't started eating....lunch is served and what a lunch ! chicken biriyani and pachadi, tomato chutney and mint chutney, carrot halwa...if I was to choose one non-tangible thing to take back to the UK, it would be the ability to make Inna's chicken biriyani...the ability to mix the spices in perfect proportion, so that each can be tasted independently, yet is inextricably part of the whole taste...the richness of the flavour that expresses itself with its smell as much as its taste...the sheer lusciousness of the meat...the momentary climax of the taste-buds as they realise how lucky they are...oh, glorrrrious food !
conversation is about life in the UK...when Sudhakar Uncle was my age, he also lived in the UK and remembers it fondly...last year, he visited the UK and we spent a weekend together...we talk about that weekend, how we hogged in the 'all you can eat for 5 pounds' place and how the waiters seemed relieved to see us leave...and how I was so stuffed with food after it that it was difficult to walk, so had to sit under a tree for a bit...its 2:30 pm and they leave...I start making calls to my friends to organise street-cricket in front of my house...
we've been playing street-cricket in front of my house for 19 years...more than anything else, street-cricket has characterised my childhood...street-cricket is a unique form of cricket and cricket on every different street has its own unique characteristics...every street has its own set of trees from which balls can deflect, bushes where balls routinely get lost and houses whose cranky owners refuse to give the ball back if it goes in...some streets have particularly curious aspects...for instance, our street has a walled-in area with a banana plantation...and sometimes, we have a drunken dhobi lying directly on the cover-drive line and doesn't like to be hit by the ball...and so, the range of possible strokes on every street is limited and every street-cricketer chooses his own range of high-scoring areas and improvises strokes to get the ball into those areas...however, his opposition know his game inside-out and set fields accordingly...street-cricket is a challenge
street-cricket is also about fighting....like field cricket, its about the fight within yourself and the fight between bat-and-ball...but its also about the fight with your team-mates about who gets to bat first, its about the fight with your opposition about a close run-out and its about the fight with your cranky neighbours when the ball goes into their house...finally, its about fighting with the thorn-bushes when the ball is firmly in their grip...
street-cricket is also about improvisation...like field cricket, its about improvising strokes to play to different balls, but its also about improvising a structure out of available materials to construct a set of stumps...its about improvising rules to prevent the balls going into houses and about improvising the order of batsmen and bowlers so that everyone gets a fair chance (the person that bats first bowls last)
it isn't difficult to see how playing street-cricket can make you street-smart
my friends arrive and we have two games...we're 25, but we act like we're 15 - both in our enthusiasm and our immaturity...I bat well in one game, bowl crap in both and notice that my batting has improved after playing in the bowler-friendly conditions of UK...
after the game, we share a big bottle of Pepsi and a friend invites me over to watch a movie...we go to his house, start the movie, start a lively conversation and completely ignore the movie...this friend is the most intelligent of all my friends, the most lazy, the most lucky and the most volatile...we talk about how he got into NLSIU, the best law school in India, and then into the best law firm in India...we talk about how he gave up a salary of 1,00,000 rupees per month and quit his job coz he wanted to do something more meaningful...wildlife conservation...that aspect of him hasn't changed, he always was a bit idealistic...
but another aspect of him has changed...a 180 degree turn...he used to be grounded and mature...he once told me he isn't silly or immature enough to derive shallow satisfaction from something as trivial as drinking with his friends...now, his room looks like something out of a gangster movie...beer bottles on the floor, an ashtray full of cigarette butts and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke...he rolls a joint and starts puffing...I've tried hard to understand how somebody so clever can also be so stupid ? my only theory so far is that all the attention from the St. Joseph's girls that came to Stanes in 11 std. got to his head and made him feel infallible...or is it something even deeper ? could it be that he's trying to fill up the God-sized hole in his heart with cigarettes, alcohol and marijuana ? I decide to give him a Bible before I leave...
I come back home and put on the TV...NDTV is showing Sachin Tendulkar meeting and training with the National Security Guards...he earnestly emphasises that the NSG and not him, are the 'real heroes' of the country...how lucky my generation is to have a role-model like Sachin...has there ever been a successful sportsman who was more humble, mature and committed to his country? its 11 pm...I realise I havn't yet called one of my good friends...I call and she picks up...warms hi's...I feel like walking, so take the house-keys, open the door, go down the stairs, unlatch the gate and go out onto the road, talking to my friend on the mobile phone...
havn't talked to her in a long time, and there seems so much to say...words come out excitedly, continuously and rapidly...her recent news, my recent news...she's getting married this year...she thinks I've changed and likes the 'new me' but also liked the 'old me'...I tell her about how I'm feeling more confident and comfortable with myself than ever before and enjoy her attentiveness and interest in what I have to say...when we talked previously, she used to be the one doing the talking...this time, for some reason, I'm talking non-stop...we talk and talk and talk and talk...platonic conversation at its very, very best...she mentions in passing that I'm good husband material and we talk about the whole love marriage/arranged marriage conundrum...she says she's sleepy and has to go, but suggests we meet up sometime this week...I say I'll call and confirm the next day and say goodbye...I hang up and look around...I've wandered at least a mile away from home...I smile to myself at being called husband material...does she know how much the compliment meant to me ? every young man has insecurities about making the step up from bachelor to husband and I'm no exception...so, when someone you had a huge crush on in school gives you an endorsement, its definitely reason to smile...I put my phone in my pocket, get my bearings, figure out the way home and trudge back...
I see that my favourite seat on the left corner of the last row is empty and hurry to sit there...started sitting there when I was 15, with other boys from Sunday school and made it my home till I left to the UK at 22...settle down and focus on the service...we have a new Pastor, he seems alright...sing hymns from Golden Bells and enjoy the sheer meaningfulness of the lyrics...worship songs that we sing at my church in UK are nice, but nothing comes closer to expressing my deepest spiritual feelings as hymns...look around and see how beautiful the church is, the building and the garden...its very much like a typical classical church in the UK, but it seems even more beautiful coz its in the midst of India...the power of contrast
the service ends and I see Jerene coming to say hi...congratulate her on her engagement the previous day and ask her if she's excited about her wedding that coming Saturday...Natalie's parents come up and say hi...I enquire about Natalie and we discuss which particular tree in the garden Natalie and I climbed after service every week, when I was 4...Vasantha Aunty comes up and tells me she's brought out a book on Neural Networks, published by Springer-Link...wow ! I tell her I would retire if I were her...Mrs. Karunakaran comes up and we talk...her daughter was born on the same day as me and her son has the same name as me...
its time to go to the Youth meeting that my friend Ajay is organising...they've already started singing when I arrive...about 20 people, mostly college students...Ajay seems in command and is doing a good job...we go into a time of worship, led by Ajay...and then, Vasanth gives a message on the characteristics of immaturity...he is clear and powerful, he's thought his message through, believes what he says and says it with confidence...he speaks straight to the heart...I didn't know he was this good...later, my Dad tells me the company he heads is known for its integrity...quite encouraging to see Christians effectively put their faith into practise...the meeting ends and I go speak to Prithveen, probably my oldest friend in church...have known him as far back as I can remember...
the people start a volleyball game nearby, I excuse myself and leave coz Sudhakar Uncle is coming to lunch...walk to the station...have a tender-coconut water on the way...is there a better drink while walking in the scorching sun ? I reach the bus-station, get into the bus and buy my ticket...3 rupees...at least, something is still cheap in India...settle into my seat and again reflect on how the bus looks dirty but feels clean...get down and go home...
Sudhakar Uncle and family have already arrived, but thankfully havn't started eating....lunch is served and what a lunch ! chicken biriyani and pachadi, tomato chutney and mint chutney, carrot halwa...if I was to choose one non-tangible thing to take back to the UK, it would be the ability to make Inna's chicken biriyani...the ability to mix the spices in perfect proportion, so that each can be tasted independently, yet is inextricably part of the whole taste...the richness of the flavour that expresses itself with its smell as much as its taste...the sheer lusciousness of the meat...the momentary climax of the taste-buds as they realise how lucky they are...oh, glorrrrious food !
conversation is about life in the UK...when Sudhakar Uncle was my age, he also lived in the UK and remembers it fondly...last year, he visited the UK and we spent a weekend together...we talk about that weekend, how we hogged in the 'all you can eat for 5 pounds' place and how the waiters seemed relieved to see us leave...and how I was so stuffed with food after it that it was difficult to walk, so had to sit under a tree for a bit...its 2:30 pm and they leave...I start making calls to my friends to organise street-cricket in front of my house...
we've been playing street-cricket in front of my house for 19 years...more than anything else, street-cricket has characterised my childhood...street-cricket is a unique form of cricket and cricket on every different street has its own unique characteristics...every street has its own set of trees from which balls can deflect, bushes where balls routinely get lost and houses whose cranky owners refuse to give the ball back if it goes in...some streets have particularly curious aspects...for instance, our street has a walled-in area with a banana plantation...and sometimes, we have a drunken dhobi lying directly on the cover-drive line and doesn't like to be hit by the ball...and so, the range of possible strokes on every street is limited and every street-cricketer chooses his own range of high-scoring areas and improvises strokes to get the ball into those areas...however, his opposition know his game inside-out and set fields accordingly...street-cricket is a challenge
street-cricket is also about fighting....like field cricket, its about the fight within yourself and the fight between bat-and-ball...but its also about the fight with your team-mates about who gets to bat first, its about the fight with your opposition about a close run-out and its about the fight with your cranky neighbours when the ball goes into their house...finally, its about fighting with the thorn-bushes when the ball is firmly in their grip...
street-cricket is also about improvisation...like field cricket, its about improvising strokes to play to different balls, but its also about improvising a structure out of available materials to construct a set of stumps...its about improvising rules to prevent the balls going into houses and about improvising the order of batsmen and bowlers so that everyone gets a fair chance (the person that bats first bowls last)
it isn't difficult to see how playing street-cricket can make you street-smart
my friends arrive and we have two games...we're 25, but we act like we're 15 - both in our enthusiasm and our immaturity...I bat well in one game, bowl crap in both and notice that my batting has improved after playing in the bowler-friendly conditions of UK...
after the game, we share a big bottle of Pepsi and a friend invites me over to watch a movie...we go to his house, start the movie, start a lively conversation and completely ignore the movie...this friend is the most intelligent of all my friends, the most lazy, the most lucky and the most volatile...we talk about how he got into NLSIU, the best law school in India, and then into the best law firm in India...we talk about how he gave up a salary of 1,00,000 rupees per month and quit his job coz he wanted to do something more meaningful...wildlife conservation...that aspect of him hasn't changed, he always was a bit idealistic...
but another aspect of him has changed...a 180 degree turn...he used to be grounded and mature...he once told me he isn't silly or immature enough to derive shallow satisfaction from something as trivial as drinking with his friends...now, his room looks like something out of a gangster movie...beer bottles on the floor, an ashtray full of cigarette butts and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke...he rolls a joint and starts puffing...I've tried hard to understand how somebody so clever can also be so stupid ? my only theory so far is that all the attention from the St. Joseph's girls that came to Stanes in 11 std. got to his head and made him feel infallible...or is it something even deeper ? could it be that he's trying to fill up the God-sized hole in his heart with cigarettes, alcohol and marijuana ? I decide to give him a Bible before I leave...
I come back home and put on the TV...NDTV is showing Sachin Tendulkar meeting and training with the National Security Guards...he earnestly emphasises that the NSG and not him, are the 'real heroes' of the country...how lucky my generation is to have a role-model like Sachin...has there ever been a successful sportsman who was more humble, mature and committed to his country? its 11 pm...I realise I havn't yet called one of my good friends...I call and she picks up...warms hi's...I feel like walking, so take the house-keys, open the door, go down the stairs, unlatch the gate and go out onto the road, talking to my friend on the mobile phone...
havn't talked to her in a long time, and there seems so much to say...words come out excitedly, continuously and rapidly...her recent news, my recent news...she's getting married this year...she thinks I've changed and likes the 'new me' but also liked the 'old me'...I tell her about how I'm feeling more confident and comfortable with myself than ever before and enjoy her attentiveness and interest in what I have to say...when we talked previously, she used to be the one doing the talking...this time, for some reason, I'm talking non-stop...we talk and talk and talk and talk...platonic conversation at its very, very best...she mentions in passing that I'm good husband material and we talk about the whole love marriage/arranged marriage conundrum...she says she's sleepy and has to go, but suggests we meet up sometime this week...I say I'll call and confirm the next day and say goodbye...I hang up and look around...I've wandered at least a mile away from home...I smile to myself at being called husband material...does she know how much the compliment meant to me ? every young man has insecurities about making the step up from bachelor to husband and I'm no exception...so, when someone you had a huge crush on in school gives you an endorsement, its definitely reason to smile...I put my phone in my pocket, get my bearings, figure out the way home and trudge back...
Thursday 5 February 2009
annapoorna food, a prayer meeting and the Stanite Ball
hi there...its Feb 5th and yes, my blog isn't up-to date...but I think I have things under control...just got back from T'pur this morning, went to Ooty yesterday, had gone from Coimbatore to T'pur the day before...these 11 days are being just as jam-packed as I wanted...
I did wake up for the jog on the 31st by the way...in fact, I woke up at 4:30 am and spent the next hour and a quarter waiting till I could call Adarsh and Shiban...called Adarsh at 5:45 am...wrong number...called Shiban...he sounds surprised that I called...says he'll come and pick me up in 15 mins...ask him Adarsh's right number and call again...Adarsh sounds fresh and awake...decide to meet at his house once Shiban comes...
go with Shiban to Adarsh's house...on the way, we pass a slum-like area...goats are tethered to a pillar near a small house...women are filling water in their plastic pots from the common water pump...Adarsh comes out looking satisfied with himself for waking up and announces that he thinks he deserves an Annapoorna meal after the jog...I second it
race away to the jogging area/play-courts near Nehru stadium...go in and decide to walk one around just to warm up...we're definitely one of the lazier groups of young men...reminisce about previous times jogging, abuse officials of Nehru stadium for not throwing it open to the common public and observe the people playing in the play-courts...basketball, football, volleyball...mostly middle-aged men with paunches...lots of shouting...you can make out they're enjoying every minute of it...that they started doing it to get fit but its turned into the most enjoyable part of their days and that they've started doing it on weekends even though the initial plan was to confine it to the week...
the jogging terrain is irregular and random...we weave our way near the football ground and run across the goal, hoping not to be hit...at the far-end, we go up and down a small mound and make two small half-left turns to complete one lap...the walking lap...set ourself a target of 5 laps and start off...Adarsh stays back to do some more stretching...after 2 laps, Adarsh joins us...conversation is sporadic as we focus on trying to preserve our breath...the social pressue exerted by the presence of 2 peers acting as an additional motivator...we finish 5 laps...I fall to the ground satisfiedly, forgetting for the moment that the 5 laps don't even constitute 2 kilometres...Shiban does two more rounds, Adarsh and I talk about management, and we head out...
to Annapoorna, the one near our houses...our refuge for inexpensive high-quality vegetarian food since we were little...for some reason, it feels nice to be going there so early in the morning...we enter and are greeted by the whiff of ghee and dosas and vadas and idlis and pooris...south-Indian cuisine at its most authentic...there are already about 60 people in, sitting around the circular tables...the waiters seem busy but not hurried, the child-cleaners go round the recently vacated tables cleaning the mess...we wash our hands, find a table...I order onion roast, I don't remember the last time I ordered anything else in Annapoorna...it arrives quickly and I tuck in...the combination of the crunchiness of the onion pieces, the crispiness of the roast and the gentle flavour of the sambhar...conversation is about Shiban's pilot career and about friends that have been seen with girls by parents of other friends...I invite them to the prayer meeting at my house that evening, to commemorate my turning 25...and we discuss the Stanite ball that we're attending that evening...on our way out, Shiban picks up an automobile magazine, I pick up a Tinkle, the Indian equivalent of an Archie comic...
dropped home and see The Hindu newspaper lying just inside the gate...why do I always experience a surge of excitement whenever I see The Hindu newspaper for a particular day ? is it because its vivid pictures, clean-cut margins and the optimal balance between white space and black text make for an attractive reading proposition ? or is it because of my being conditioned that way by the countless times I've come down to get the newspaper to pore over the article about the previous day's cricket match, even though I had seen the complete match the day before ? I pick it up and go upstairs...Amma and Appa are having coffee in bed, I nuzzle in between them and turn to the sports-page...habit...
its 8:30 am...have a bath and head out to my Dad's factory at 9:15 am to write notes for my first blog article (after reaching India) ... greeted warmly by the company's second-in-charge...how nice it is when people who work for you also develop a personal liking for you...he enquires about the weather in UK and how I get by for food...comments that I've grown thin and invites me over to his house for pongal...I readily agree...the pongal last time was fantastic...the other factory workers smile politely at me and I smile back...I've always wondered how they viewed me...I'm their boss' son, so they must like me, at least out of loyalty...do they respect me ? they must think I'm intelligent coz of the way Amma goes on about me...do they think they'll work under me some day ? the electricity is out at the moment, so I go to a nearby cyber-cafe to do the blog notes...
come back when the electricity is back, work till lunch time and head back...Ammamma and Thatha are coming soon...along with my little cousin Ajay...I reach home and in 5 mins, I hear Ammamma's voice outside...I go out and see a lanky boy that I don't initially recognise...I look closer...its Ajay !! he's less than 6 inches shorter than me now...he used to hardly reach my knees...his voice has broken and he's 14, a teenager....and I'm 25, a man...undeniably...gosh
we go and have lunch...a very family affair...my parents, my three alive grandparents, Ajay and myself...after lunch, we go up to see the cricket match...Ammamma and Thatha, Ajay and I...I take my customary position in front of the TV...I couldn't count the number of hours I've spent watching cricket from that position, getting up only to relieve the bladder, applaud a Tendulkar century or pump my fist at a wicket by an Indian bowler...I have occassionally sledged the opposition, but sitting down...I like watching my cricket alone...but next best to that, is watching it with Ammamma and Thatha...we talk about how the Indian team has developed a ruthless edge under the new captain Dhoni and how the modern Indian cricketer is more aggressive, confident and in-your-face than their counterparts from previous eras...
its getting to 4:30 pm, so we hastily dress for the prayer meeting and go down...my school friend, also called Ajay, has already arrived and looking particularly anti-social...a common characteristic among my close friends is atypicality and Ajay is a typical case...soon Sudhakar Uncle and family arrive...I go out to meet them and hug Sudhakar Uncle...shake Nalini Aunty's hand...say a warm hi to Rohit...he has cerebral palsy, so he can't talk but he does enough to let me know he's very happy to see me...words aren't always necessary....say hi to Tanya, my newest cousin sister...
soon, the other guests arrive...Franklin Uncle, my father's Christian guide, will be leading the meeting...the hall is full and has a bright, homely feel to it...its time to start but Amma is missing...after 15 minutes, she arrives...she's been dressing up...Franklin Uncle announces we don't have song-books and suggests we sing well-known hymns...after some initial awkwardness, we settle down to sing 'Great Is Thy Faithfulness', 'What a Friend We Have in Jesus', 'Showers of Blessing' and 'This is the Day'...the meeting has acquired a solemn and meaningful tone...
Franklin Uncle encourages us to share things we're thankful to God for...I tense up, coz I know everybody expects me to say something...in fact, it is the central purpose of the meeting...an old Aunty talks about God-given strength after her husband passed away and how God was with her in her recent medal-winning performances in the 70+ Asian Games...she talks boldly and with conviction...what a lady !...applause... a lull...Sudhakar Uncle suggests the 'birthday boy' should say something...nowhere to hide...I start, "I also have a lot to thank God for...", feeling all eyes on me, I continue, "the first is for my PhD funding...its a lot of money and isn't easy to obtain but I was fortunate enough to be offered funding without even applying for it...also, in my last 3 years in the UK, He has been with me...helped me make decisions, find a good church, get good friends...and so many more things....and so, I'd like to thank God for all this"...I look up...and hear applause...Ajay, my friend, is clapping...it must have been good...speaking from the heart counts for a lot...
Nalini Aunty, Appa and Amma also give thanks for different things...Franklin Uncle gives a meaningful message about seeking God first and everything else following on from that...the meeting is turning out just the way I had wished...solemn, meaningful, humble and beautiful...we finish and tea is served...people gather into small groups and chat...Ammamma tells me my testimony was good...and Ajay, my friend, shows my Grand-dad and Adarsh a song he's written...the guests leave and its just the family...
the last time I remember feeling such a sense of family was Thatha and Inna's 50th wedding anniversary...the atmosphere is warm and relaxed...Sudhakar Uncle, Appa and I have a conversation about how genuine (or not) Benny Hinn is...Ajay, my cousin and Tanya call me to play dark-room...I find I'm too big too hide in any inconspicuous space, so I stand out in the open hoping to be mistaken for a cupboard or a lamp-stand...they aren't that dumb
its time for the Stanite Ball, so I get dressed and wait to be picked up...this is the 1st time I'm going to the Ball after leaving school...its a Ball for current and past-students of Stanes School...in school, it used to be filled with excitement...the prospect of the alcohol on offer and of meeting the senior girls that we saw in school and maybe even dancing with them...now, its just about hoping you'll meet some friends you havn't seen in a long time and having good conversation...
the car arrives and we drive to English Club...was it an exclusively British Club during the Raj ? we reach and I feel myself tense at the prospect of such a large social gathering...the music from the dance hall is high quality...Carl Uncle, wouldn't expect any less...enter the hall...most of the crowd is in their 50s...I see a father of a friend...look to my left...spot a senior and some girls who look like they're in school...nobody I particularly want to talk to....make my way through the side door and see an old classmate...relief...we talk about recent news and common friends...congratulate her on the new chocolate business she's started...turn to find a senior, tells me he's about to get married later this year...another one bites the dust...on the far-left, I see my gang, get a beer and join them...
the conversation among my friends is laidback, the odd indiscretion due to rising levels of inebriation...but its difficult to ignore that the general atmosphere in the Hall is sadly lacking...there's a distinct lack of vibrancy, fun, happiness, laughter...any laughter is drunken laughter and the air has the unmistakeable smell of discontent and non-achievement...a brawl between two drunken men breaks out...they're fighting over one of the young girls
Coimbatore has many kinds of people...there are content people, who've worked hard and stood by their principles and done quite well for themselves....they know there are better things out there in bigger cities like Chennai or Mumbai, or London or New York, but they've stayed in Coimbatore by choice...there are other people too...people who are carried away by the prospect of untold wealth and greedily desire it...but don't have the quality or the work ethic to achieve their dreams...their parochial thinking and politicking ways have gotten the better of them and they are in Coimbatore by force, rather than choice...these are also the people who would go to a Stanite Ball, if only to lift temporarily the burden of non-achievement that rests so heavily on their shoulders...
we leave the ball early...and am dropped off by a friend...as I get down from the car, my friend asks if he can vent his frustration about the Ball ...of course he can...for 15 minutes, we talk about the shame of being associated with such a sordid event and how he fears for when he takes his kid to a Stanite Ball in the future, only to be embarassed...we talk about how the generation of our grand-parents had so many respectable people, how the generation of our parents had less of them...how fortunate we are to have respectable parents...how our generation has almost zero respectable people...then, he gives me a huge surprise...he names me among one of 3 people he respects in our generation and stresses he isn't 'just saying it'....I'm thrilled...I've tried hard to build a reputation for uprightness, so this is very gratifying...we decide its time to sleep, decide to gather some friend to play street-cricket the next evening, and say warm good-byes
I did wake up for the jog on the 31st by the way...in fact, I woke up at 4:30 am and spent the next hour and a quarter waiting till I could call Adarsh and Shiban...called Adarsh at 5:45 am...wrong number...called Shiban...he sounds surprised that I called...says he'll come and pick me up in 15 mins...ask him Adarsh's right number and call again...Adarsh sounds fresh and awake...decide to meet at his house once Shiban comes...
go with Shiban to Adarsh's house...on the way, we pass a slum-like area...goats are tethered to a pillar near a small house...women are filling water in their plastic pots from the common water pump...Adarsh comes out looking satisfied with himself for waking up and announces that he thinks he deserves an Annapoorna meal after the jog...I second it
race away to the jogging area/play-courts near Nehru stadium...go in and decide to walk one around just to warm up...we're definitely one of the lazier groups of young men...reminisce about previous times jogging, abuse officials of Nehru stadium for not throwing it open to the common public and observe the people playing in the play-courts...basketball, football, volleyball...mostly middle-aged men with paunches...lots of shouting...you can make out they're enjoying every minute of it...that they started doing it to get fit but its turned into the most enjoyable part of their days and that they've started doing it on weekends even though the initial plan was to confine it to the week...
the jogging terrain is irregular and random...we weave our way near the football ground and run across the goal, hoping not to be hit...at the far-end, we go up and down a small mound and make two small half-left turns to complete one lap...the walking lap...set ourself a target of 5 laps and start off...Adarsh stays back to do some more stretching...after 2 laps, Adarsh joins us...conversation is sporadic as we focus on trying to preserve our breath...the social pressue exerted by the presence of 2 peers acting as an additional motivator...we finish 5 laps...I fall to the ground satisfiedly, forgetting for the moment that the 5 laps don't even constitute 2 kilometres...Shiban does two more rounds, Adarsh and I talk about management, and we head out...
to Annapoorna, the one near our houses...our refuge for inexpensive high-quality vegetarian food since we were little...for some reason, it feels nice to be going there so early in the morning...we enter and are greeted by the whiff of ghee and dosas and vadas and idlis and pooris...south-Indian cuisine at its most authentic...there are already about 60 people in, sitting around the circular tables...the waiters seem busy but not hurried, the child-cleaners go round the recently vacated tables cleaning the mess...we wash our hands, find a table...I order onion roast, I don't remember the last time I ordered anything else in Annapoorna...it arrives quickly and I tuck in...the combination of the crunchiness of the onion pieces, the crispiness of the roast and the gentle flavour of the sambhar...conversation is about Shiban's pilot career and about friends that have been seen with girls by parents of other friends...I invite them to the prayer meeting at my house that evening, to commemorate my turning 25...and we discuss the Stanite ball that we're attending that evening...on our way out, Shiban picks up an automobile magazine, I pick up a Tinkle, the Indian equivalent of an Archie comic...
dropped home and see The Hindu newspaper lying just inside the gate...why do I always experience a surge of excitement whenever I see The Hindu newspaper for a particular day ? is it because its vivid pictures, clean-cut margins and the optimal balance between white space and black text make for an attractive reading proposition ? or is it because of my being conditioned that way by the countless times I've come down to get the newspaper to pore over the article about the previous day's cricket match, even though I had seen the complete match the day before ? I pick it up and go upstairs...Amma and Appa are having coffee in bed, I nuzzle in between them and turn to the sports-page...habit...
its 8:30 am...have a bath and head out to my Dad's factory at 9:15 am to write notes for my first blog article (after reaching India) ... greeted warmly by the company's second-in-charge...how nice it is when people who work for you also develop a personal liking for you...he enquires about the weather in UK and how I get by for food...comments that I've grown thin and invites me over to his house for pongal...I readily agree...the pongal last time was fantastic...the other factory workers smile politely at me and I smile back...I've always wondered how they viewed me...I'm their boss' son, so they must like me, at least out of loyalty...do they respect me ? they must think I'm intelligent coz of the way Amma goes on about me...do they think they'll work under me some day ? the electricity is out at the moment, so I go to a nearby cyber-cafe to do the blog notes...
come back when the electricity is back, work till lunch time and head back...Ammamma and Thatha are coming soon...along with my little cousin Ajay...I reach home and in 5 mins, I hear Ammamma's voice outside...I go out and see a lanky boy that I don't initially recognise...I look closer...its Ajay !! he's less than 6 inches shorter than me now...he used to hardly reach my knees...his voice has broken and he's 14, a teenager....and I'm 25, a man...undeniably...gosh
we go and have lunch...a very family affair...my parents, my three alive grandparents, Ajay and myself...after lunch, we go up to see the cricket match...Ammamma and Thatha, Ajay and I...I take my customary position in front of the TV...I couldn't count the number of hours I've spent watching cricket from that position, getting up only to relieve the bladder, applaud a Tendulkar century or pump my fist at a wicket by an Indian bowler...I have occassionally sledged the opposition, but sitting down...I like watching my cricket alone...but next best to that, is watching it with Ammamma and Thatha...we talk about how the Indian team has developed a ruthless edge under the new captain Dhoni and how the modern Indian cricketer is more aggressive, confident and in-your-face than their counterparts from previous eras...
its getting to 4:30 pm, so we hastily dress for the prayer meeting and go down...my school friend, also called Ajay, has already arrived and looking particularly anti-social...a common characteristic among my close friends is atypicality and Ajay is a typical case...soon Sudhakar Uncle and family arrive...I go out to meet them and hug Sudhakar Uncle...shake Nalini Aunty's hand...say a warm hi to Rohit...he has cerebral palsy, so he can't talk but he does enough to let me know he's very happy to see me...words aren't always necessary....say hi to Tanya, my newest cousin sister...
soon, the other guests arrive...Franklin Uncle, my father's Christian guide, will be leading the meeting...the hall is full and has a bright, homely feel to it...its time to start but Amma is missing...after 15 minutes, she arrives...she's been dressing up...Franklin Uncle announces we don't have song-books and suggests we sing well-known hymns...after some initial awkwardness, we settle down to sing 'Great Is Thy Faithfulness', 'What a Friend We Have in Jesus', 'Showers of Blessing' and 'This is the Day'...the meeting has acquired a solemn and meaningful tone...
Franklin Uncle encourages us to share things we're thankful to God for...I tense up, coz I know everybody expects me to say something...in fact, it is the central purpose of the meeting...an old Aunty talks about God-given strength after her husband passed away and how God was with her in her recent medal-winning performances in the 70+ Asian Games...she talks boldly and with conviction...what a lady !...applause... a lull...Sudhakar Uncle suggests the 'birthday boy' should say something...nowhere to hide...I start, "I also have a lot to thank God for...", feeling all eyes on me, I continue, "the first is for my PhD funding...its a lot of money and isn't easy to obtain but I was fortunate enough to be offered funding without even applying for it...also, in my last 3 years in the UK, He has been with me...helped me make decisions, find a good church, get good friends...and so many more things....and so, I'd like to thank God for all this"...I look up...and hear applause...Ajay, my friend, is clapping...it must have been good...speaking from the heart counts for a lot...
Nalini Aunty, Appa and Amma also give thanks for different things...Franklin Uncle gives a meaningful message about seeking God first and everything else following on from that...the meeting is turning out just the way I had wished...solemn, meaningful, humble and beautiful...we finish and tea is served...people gather into small groups and chat...Ammamma tells me my testimony was good...and Ajay, my friend, shows my Grand-dad and Adarsh a song he's written...the guests leave and its just the family...
the last time I remember feeling such a sense of family was Thatha and Inna's 50th wedding anniversary...the atmosphere is warm and relaxed...Sudhakar Uncle, Appa and I have a conversation about how genuine (or not) Benny Hinn is...Ajay, my cousin and Tanya call me to play dark-room...I find I'm too big too hide in any inconspicuous space, so I stand out in the open hoping to be mistaken for a cupboard or a lamp-stand...they aren't that dumb
its time for the Stanite Ball, so I get dressed and wait to be picked up...this is the 1st time I'm going to the Ball after leaving school...its a Ball for current and past-students of Stanes School...in school, it used to be filled with excitement...the prospect of the alcohol on offer and of meeting the senior girls that we saw in school and maybe even dancing with them...now, its just about hoping you'll meet some friends you havn't seen in a long time and having good conversation...
the car arrives and we drive to English Club...was it an exclusively British Club during the Raj ? we reach and I feel myself tense at the prospect of such a large social gathering...the music from the dance hall is high quality...Carl Uncle, wouldn't expect any less...enter the hall...most of the crowd is in their 50s...I see a father of a friend...look to my left...spot a senior and some girls who look like they're in school...nobody I particularly want to talk to....make my way through the side door and see an old classmate...relief...we talk about recent news and common friends...congratulate her on the new chocolate business she's started...turn to find a senior, tells me he's about to get married later this year...another one bites the dust...on the far-left, I see my gang, get a beer and join them...
the conversation among my friends is laidback, the odd indiscretion due to rising levels of inebriation...but its difficult to ignore that the general atmosphere in the Hall is sadly lacking...there's a distinct lack of vibrancy, fun, happiness, laughter...any laughter is drunken laughter and the air has the unmistakeable smell of discontent and non-achievement...a brawl between two drunken men breaks out...they're fighting over one of the young girls
Coimbatore has many kinds of people...there are content people, who've worked hard and stood by their principles and done quite well for themselves....they know there are better things out there in bigger cities like Chennai or Mumbai, or London or New York, but they've stayed in Coimbatore by choice...there are other people too...people who are carried away by the prospect of untold wealth and greedily desire it...but don't have the quality or the work ethic to achieve their dreams...their parochial thinking and politicking ways have gotten the better of them and they are in Coimbatore by force, rather than choice...these are also the people who would go to a Stanite Ball, if only to lift temporarily the burden of non-achievement that rests so heavily on their shoulders...
we leave the ball early...and am dropped off by a friend...as I get down from the car, my friend asks if he can vent his frustration about the Ball ...of course he can...for 15 minutes, we talk about the shame of being associated with such a sordid event and how he fears for when he takes his kid to a Stanite Ball in the future, only to be embarassed...we talk about how the generation of our grand-parents had so many respectable people, how the generation of our parents had less of them...how fortunate we are to have respectable parents...how our generation has almost zero respectable people...then, he gives me a huge surprise...he names me among one of 3 people he respects in our generation and stresses he isn't 'just saying it'....I'm thrilled...I've tried hard to build a reputation for uprightness, so this is very gratifying...we decide its time to sleep, decide to gather some friend to play street-cricket the next evening, and say warm good-byes
Monday 2 February 2009
a 25th birthday with a twist
after spotting and hugging my parents at the airport in Coimbatore, I also met n hugged my grand-mother, Inna...we made our way to the car...there was Ramasamy, our driver since I was in 1st standard...20 years...he retired in the middle, then came back and ever since then seems to ageing in reverse...my mother puts it down to a diet of vethla paake and beedi...
Inna, Amma and I squeeze into the backseat...our collective shoulders are too broad, so I move my torso forward...Amma repeats the case for a new car...cheerfully now, not exasperatedly like before...soon, we reach the city and I'm greeted by the sight of a tree-less Avanashi Road...the trees were removed to make the road wider...development has its costs...we pass Stanes, my school for 14 years and source of more than half my friends, all my best friends and at least 75% of my best memories...also venue of my most daring deed...the Diwali bomb
up Anna-flyover and down again...rush hour traffic has passed, but the roads are still busy...mad honking but not angry honking...just honking by habit and to make their presence felt...reflecting a honking culture...lorries, buses, vans, cars, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians vying for space generally ignoring rules of the road but relying on common sense to get them through...I spot a road-side stall selling tender-coconut water and make a mental note to visit it sometime...we reach the tranquility of Saibaba Colony, make the final left turn and reach the house...
the house looks the same as always...white gate...the coconut tree at the back...I enter the gate and immediately notice that the lawn on the grass has changed...for the better...the blue easy-chair has replaced the cane chair that Thatha used to sit on, waiting for my sister and I to return from school...a new servant comes out...that's 3 consecutive years that I've come back to a new servant...walk into the house, past the hall into my room...check if my chocolate-wrapper collection is intact...it is...all 346 different wrapper-types...the room looks the same, the bed is neatly laid in preparation for my arrival...but for some reason, the room feels too small for me...could it be that I feel metaphorically that I've outgrown it and that's accidentally translating into my physical perception of its size ? or is it that it really is tiny and I just hadn't noticed...
go upstairs and feel the same way...the Christmas decorations are still out...things are much less tidy than my house at 100 Addington Road, Reading....but oh, so much more homely...I go down and Appa and Amma sing me 'Happy Birthday' and cut the cake...as renditions of birthday songs go, this must have been one of the worst...its important to have perspective...
go up to the bedroom, Appa on one bed, me face-down on the other with Amma beside me massaging my back...we settle into relaxed, natural, free-flowing conversation...Inna comes back and its time for lunch...we go downstairs...
sambhar, rice, chicken and potato and chutney...just the memory of it is making my mouth water now...'delicious' doesn't seem an adequate word...maybe heavenly or divine....so filled with taste...I stop talking and concentrate on relishing every mouthful...it isn't difficult...the conversation is lively...social roles well-defined...Amma talks the most but not domineeringly, Inna next, Appa and myself least...but everyone has their say...Appa and I eat the most and finish eating first, Inna next and then Amma...
I get a phone-call...Danie...wishing me happy-birthday...ask him how Chennai is and when he's coming down...he isn't coming down, so we decide to meet in Chennai...next, Vicky calls...asks me if I've been knighted by Queen Elizabeth...I clarify that I havn't but was invited to a dinner at the House of Commons...I congratulate on the high-salaried managerial job he's just landed and notice the tone of measured satisfaction in his voice...we have an interesting conversation about how the marketing strategies that he uses might be improved by a knowledge of how the brain works, which is what I do...we ask each other about any marriage plans and are both relieved to discover no impending plans on either side...he has to go and will call tomorrow...Mukund calls...I clarify that I didn't meet Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace, but was only invited to dinner at the House of Commons, by a meer MP...feel quite gratified that my friends should actually think it possible for me to meet the Queen
I go up and sleep to the sound of gentle Christian music...wake up to the bites of mosquitoes...its 6 pm...Johnny calls...we talk what we always have talked about since I got to know him in 8th standard...girls...which one is recently married, who is about to get married and who isn't yet married...he's going to Bangalore tomorrow, so we decide to meet when he gets back...hangs up...Suna Aunty calls and wishes me Happy B'day all the way from New Zealand...Poornima,my cousin sister also wishes me and talks non-stop for half an hour about her recent holiday, her impending transition to high-school, her love for animals and ambitions to become a vet...also tells me about animals she's nursed...sounds quite impressed when I tell her I'm tranining to be a neuro-scientist...how nice it is to be doing something so impressive :) ...everyone thinks its difficult, but its no more difficult than any other branch of science...should I feel guilty about slightly undeserved respect ?
HONK-HONK, HONK-HONK-HONK !....my gang's honking code...they're arrived outside ! I look outside to see Shiban's lean frame and bald head...go out to see Mukund and Shiban...hugs...man-hugs...cursory hugs with minimal physical contact and tonnes of awkwardness, but hugs nevertheless...we settle into easy banter that is the product of 3 people knowing each other for 20 years...Adarsh joins us and joins the banter...they're going for a movie in half-hour and want me to come...I havn't yet eaten dinner...I go and eat while they wait...dosas and sambhar...
get into Shiban's car and we race off...Shiban likes cars and drives like a mad-man, but with control...the music in the car is loud and stimulating...speed definitely thrills...we reach the theatre and buy tickets...the theatre is a ramshackle dump...no place to park, one super-expensive food stall and a run-down building...but its not decrepit...despite its minimalist nature, there's something clean and fresh about it...inexplicably, it is dirty but the dirt feels like one of the cleaner forms of dirt...maybe I'm just psycho
we enter the theatre hall and find our way to the seats...hard as stone...notice some school juniors of ours behind us...people are talking loudly waiting for the movie to start...we settle into our chairs and put our feet up...what the theatre lacks in convenience, it makes up for with the easy atmosphere...you don't feel like you have to behave in a place that is so patently less good than you deserve...the movie starts...
I discover its a Hindi movie...so, don't understand a word...about half-way, Shiban explains that its about an amateur actor trying to break into Bollywood...he asks me if I'm enjoying it...I explain that I don't understand it but am enjoying the other aspects of the experience...he turns away puzzled...Shiban is especially non-judgmental and I'm grateful for it...the movie finishes...we exit...
after the post-movie chat, we get into our cars and head back...Shiban suggests we go jogging tomorrow morning at 6 am...its about 1 am now...I volunteer to wake us all by phone-calls...I reach home, go upstairs, set two alarms and go to bed, resolving to wake up at 5:45 am in the morning...
Inna, Amma and I squeeze into the backseat...our collective shoulders are too broad, so I move my torso forward...Amma repeats the case for a new car...cheerfully now, not exasperatedly like before...soon, we reach the city and I'm greeted by the sight of a tree-less Avanashi Road...the trees were removed to make the road wider...development has its costs...we pass Stanes, my school for 14 years and source of more than half my friends, all my best friends and at least 75% of my best memories...also venue of my most daring deed...the Diwali bomb
up Anna-flyover and down again...rush hour traffic has passed, but the roads are still busy...mad honking but not angry honking...just honking by habit and to make their presence felt...reflecting a honking culture...lorries, buses, vans, cars, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians vying for space generally ignoring rules of the road but relying on common sense to get them through...I spot a road-side stall selling tender-coconut water and make a mental note to visit it sometime...we reach the tranquility of Saibaba Colony, make the final left turn and reach the house...
the house looks the same as always...white gate...the coconut tree at the back...I enter the gate and immediately notice that the lawn on the grass has changed...for the better...the blue easy-chair has replaced the cane chair that Thatha used to sit on, waiting for my sister and I to return from school...a new servant comes out...that's 3 consecutive years that I've come back to a new servant...walk into the house, past the hall into my room...check if my chocolate-wrapper collection is intact...it is...all 346 different wrapper-types...the room looks the same, the bed is neatly laid in preparation for my arrival...but for some reason, the room feels too small for me...could it be that I feel metaphorically that I've outgrown it and that's accidentally translating into my physical perception of its size ? or is it that it really is tiny and I just hadn't noticed...
go upstairs and feel the same way...the Christmas decorations are still out...things are much less tidy than my house at 100 Addington Road, Reading....but oh, so much more homely...I go down and Appa and Amma sing me 'Happy Birthday' and cut the cake...as renditions of birthday songs go, this must have been one of the worst...its important to have perspective...
go up to the bedroom, Appa on one bed, me face-down on the other with Amma beside me massaging my back...we settle into relaxed, natural, free-flowing conversation...Inna comes back and its time for lunch...we go downstairs...
sambhar, rice, chicken and potato and chutney...just the memory of it is making my mouth water now...'delicious' doesn't seem an adequate word...maybe heavenly or divine....so filled with taste...I stop talking and concentrate on relishing every mouthful...it isn't difficult...the conversation is lively...social roles well-defined...Amma talks the most but not domineeringly, Inna next, Appa and myself least...but everyone has their say...Appa and I eat the most and finish eating first, Inna next and then Amma...
I get a phone-call...Danie...wishing me happy-birthday...ask him how Chennai is and when he's coming down...he isn't coming down, so we decide to meet in Chennai...next, Vicky calls...asks me if I've been knighted by Queen Elizabeth...I clarify that I havn't but was invited to a dinner at the House of Commons...I congratulate on the high-salaried managerial job he's just landed and notice the tone of measured satisfaction in his voice...we have an interesting conversation about how the marketing strategies that he uses might be improved by a knowledge of how the brain works, which is what I do...we ask each other about any marriage plans and are both relieved to discover no impending plans on either side...he has to go and will call tomorrow...Mukund calls...I clarify that I didn't meet Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace, but was only invited to dinner at the House of Commons, by a meer MP...feel quite gratified that my friends should actually think it possible for me to meet the Queen
I go up and sleep to the sound of gentle Christian music...wake up to the bites of mosquitoes...its 6 pm...Johnny calls...we talk what we always have talked about since I got to know him in 8th standard...girls...which one is recently married, who is about to get married and who isn't yet married...he's going to Bangalore tomorrow, so we decide to meet when he gets back...hangs up...Suna Aunty calls and wishes me Happy B'day all the way from New Zealand...Poornima,my cousin sister also wishes me and talks non-stop for half an hour about her recent holiday, her impending transition to high-school, her love for animals and ambitions to become a vet...also tells me about animals she's nursed...sounds quite impressed when I tell her I'm tranining to be a neuro-scientist...how nice it is to be doing something so impressive :) ...everyone thinks its difficult, but its no more difficult than any other branch of science...should I feel guilty about slightly undeserved respect ?
HONK-HONK, HONK-HONK-HONK !....my gang's honking code...they're arrived outside ! I look outside to see Shiban's lean frame and bald head...go out to see Mukund and Shiban...hugs...man-hugs...cursory hugs with minimal physical contact and tonnes of awkwardness, but hugs nevertheless...we settle into easy banter that is the product of 3 people knowing each other for 20 years...Adarsh joins us and joins the banter...they're going for a movie in half-hour and want me to come...I havn't yet eaten dinner...I go and eat while they wait...dosas and sambhar...
get into Shiban's car and we race off...Shiban likes cars and drives like a mad-man, but with control...the music in the car is loud and stimulating...speed definitely thrills...we reach the theatre and buy tickets...the theatre is a ramshackle dump...no place to park, one super-expensive food stall and a run-down building...but its not decrepit...despite its minimalist nature, there's something clean and fresh about it...inexplicably, it is dirty but the dirt feels like one of the cleaner forms of dirt...maybe I'm just psycho
we enter the theatre hall and find our way to the seats...hard as stone...notice some school juniors of ours behind us...people are talking loudly waiting for the movie to start...we settle into our chairs and put our feet up...what the theatre lacks in convenience, it makes up for with the easy atmosphere...you don't feel like you have to behave in a place that is so patently less good than you deserve...the movie starts...
I discover its a Hindi movie...so, don't understand a word...about half-way, Shiban explains that its about an amateur actor trying to break into Bollywood...he asks me if I'm enjoying it...I explain that I don't understand it but am enjoying the other aspects of the experience...he turns away puzzled...Shiban is especially non-judgmental and I'm grateful for it...the movie finishes...we exit...
after the post-movie chat, we get into our cars and head back...Shiban suggests we go jogging tomorrow morning at 6 am...its about 1 am now...I volunteer to wake us all by phone-calls...I reach home, go upstairs, set two alarms and go to bed, resolving to wake up at 5:45 am in the morning...
Sunday 1 February 2009
late flights, a-denominational priests and 3 whiskey bottles
back home :D...in the factory of my father's company...my blogging ambitions were dealt a severe blow when I found there was no Internet at home...but a blog-promise is a blog-promise and I did blog-promise to write...so, here I am at a computer in the factory...
the flight back was definitely eventful...reached Heathrow half-hour late because of a fight with the telephone operator of the taxi company...don't even ask...checked my baggage in and before I realised it, was time to board...not before I was refused permission to carry whiskey in my hand-luggage...don't even ask...hehe
found my seat and found I was sitting next to a deaf old man...quite an appropriate neighbour for someone who doesn't talk too much...sat down...5 minutes later, this young Indian girl takes the other seat next to me...not sure whether to talk or not...finally, turn and say hi...we start a conversation about the bad service on the flight, how it used to be better...about her holiday in UK, my life in UK...about college/University life, about society and character analyses on various Bollywood stars...I go to sleep...wake up and we analyse the character of various Hollywood stars, lament on the perils of the modern Indian arranged marriage and decide Air India is the worst airline in the world...
we land in Mumbai...India ! go out of the plane and immediately feel the blast of heat and humidity...India ! I wonder whether I should take off my sleeveless green sweater...decide to keep it on coz I look really good in it...my decision doesn't feel right when I get quizzical looks from fellow passengers...I think I also overheard a kid questioning his mother on the basics of dressing according to the weather...
join a queue for flights to Chennai...'queue' is probably too strong a word...the 'queue' doesn't move forward for 20 minutes...suddenly, it moves and moves fast...its the customs check...I put my stuff into the tray and am berated by the staff for having my mobile phone in my pocket rather than in my hand-luggage..."if you have space in your bag, you should put it there", he reasons...are Indian staff ruder because they care more or just because they're plain unprofessional ?
pick up a new whiskey bottle...20 dollars ! and go to wait to board the flight to Chennai...meet a young Indian engineer...talk about design of medical devices and the Indian economy...am struck by his practical, self-taught approach to thinking inspite of a mediocre schooling and higher education...us Indians have sooooo much potential
there are about 30 people in the room, 29 Indians and 1 Brit...I turn to talk to him and find he is a priest....an a-denominational priest that categorises himself as not falling under any particular denominational category...he's going to Chennai to speak at some religious meetings...hands me his personal testimony on our way to the flight...
I sleep the whole flight...we land in Chennai...it feels even more like India now...more hot, more humid, more populated, more chaotic...rush through the immigration check, go pick up my bags and make my way to the next-door domestic airport...its 4 in the morning...outside the airport, the air is lit by the light from within the airport and polluted by sand granules thrown up by the million people walking through it...reach the domestic airport, find its too early to check in my bag, wonder what to do...
spy an eatery on the right....Indian food ! hurry there only to be greeted by the slightly deflating sight of the range of British food - puffs, patties, rolls...decide to buy a veg samosa coz its the most Indian thing there, also buy a fountain pepsi...50 rupees in total ! is inflation in India so high or is it just that airport prices are inflated ?
find a seat in a collection of seats in front of a TV screen showing NDTV news...the seat is almost under the screen, so looking up at it feels vaguely like it might feel to look at the Eiffel Tower from below...needs the neck to be craned...not just my neck, but the necks of all people in that collection of seats...bad human-centered design...wouldn't be acceptable in the UK...us Indians just seem to settle for less...but are we any less happy ? does good human-centered design make the UK a happier place ? or does it spoil them and create ever-increasing expectations ?
sitting in my seat surrounded by Indians, neck craned to hear the NDTV reporter announce details of the forthcoming IPL auction, eating my samosa and sipping my Pepsi, I feel myself settling down...why am I starting to feel so comfortable ? is it simply because I am back in my homeland where things happen and people behave in ways that I completely understand ? is it because of the freedom you feel because of the relative anonymity that being in such a crowd of people affords ? is it because I don't feel I'm representing my country in a foreign land anymore ? or because the weight of having to follow social conventions alien to me is lifted ?
and why do I feel like I have more space even though everything is much more crowded ?
I make my way out of the airport to the auto and taxi stands and find a stone bench...I see two substantial dollops of crow-shit on the seat and happily settle down next to it...I seem to have settled into 'Indian mode'...my threshold for not being repulsed seems to have been multiplied tenfold...I look behind to see the taxi drivers cleaning their taxis before the day's work...one of them is brushing his teeth with his finger, using water for toothpaste...dirty water...I look in front of me and see the early-morning traffic...lots of two-wheelers, a Honda Civic, Honda Accord, a Maruthi Van...the density of vehicles increases with time, until I can feel the beat of the city expressing itself in the collective passing of those vehicles...Chennai is busy and alive and thriving...I look to my right to see a large building site that the workers have just arrived on...Chennai is growing and developing...
I go back to the airport, check in my luggage ...realise I left the whiskey bottle in the Mumbai flight...go and buy a new one and go to customs check-in...they won't allow me to carry the whiskey-bottle in my hand-luggage...I re-check-in the whiskey bottle into my flight luggage...board the flight...
window-seat...I look outside at the flat-roofed, multi-coloured houses...Marina Beach looks more beautiful than ever...we pass over the sea...before I realise it, we're preparing for landing at Coimbatore...I look down and see Anna-flyover from above, like I've never seen it before...we land and I walk from the plane to the airport...the walk is unexpectedly beautiful...in some ways, Coimbatore airport seems more beautiful than Heathrow...definitely more emphasis on nature...pick up my baggage, check if the whiskey-bottle is there, and head out wondering if my parents will be waiting...
walk out into the bright, yet gentle sunshine that is characteristic of Coimbatore...look around...ah ! there's my father's brown bald head, gleaming in the sunlight...and there's Amma...looking younger and happier than when I last saw her...they've seen me...hugs..."Happy Birthday Nitin !", Amma says....oh yea, how could I forget ! ITS MY BIRTHDAY !!!
the events of my birthday deserve a separate post, so will sign off for now...hoping to post again today evening and bring the blog up-to-date :)
Nitin
the flight back was definitely eventful...reached Heathrow half-hour late because of a fight with the telephone operator of the taxi company...don't even ask...checked my baggage in and before I realised it, was time to board...not before I was refused permission to carry whiskey in my hand-luggage...don't even ask...hehe
found my seat and found I was sitting next to a deaf old man...quite an appropriate neighbour for someone who doesn't talk too much...sat down...5 minutes later, this young Indian girl takes the other seat next to me...not sure whether to talk or not...finally, turn and say hi...we start a conversation about the bad service on the flight, how it used to be better...about her holiday in UK, my life in UK...about college/University life, about society and character analyses on various Bollywood stars...I go to sleep...wake up and we analyse the character of various Hollywood stars, lament on the perils of the modern Indian arranged marriage and decide Air India is the worst airline in the world...
we land in Mumbai...India ! go out of the plane and immediately feel the blast of heat and humidity...India ! I wonder whether I should take off my sleeveless green sweater...decide to keep it on coz I look really good in it...my decision doesn't feel right when I get quizzical looks from fellow passengers...I think I also overheard a kid questioning his mother on the basics of dressing according to the weather...
join a queue for flights to Chennai...'queue' is probably too strong a word...the 'queue' doesn't move forward for 20 minutes...suddenly, it moves and moves fast...its the customs check...I put my stuff into the tray and am berated by the staff for having my mobile phone in my pocket rather than in my hand-luggage..."if you have space in your bag, you should put it there", he reasons...are Indian staff ruder because they care more or just because they're plain unprofessional ?
pick up a new whiskey bottle...20 dollars ! and go to wait to board the flight to Chennai...meet a young Indian engineer...talk about design of medical devices and the Indian economy...am struck by his practical, self-taught approach to thinking inspite of a mediocre schooling and higher education...us Indians have sooooo much potential
there are about 30 people in the room, 29 Indians and 1 Brit...I turn to talk to him and find he is a priest....an a-denominational priest that categorises himself as not falling under any particular denominational category...he's going to Chennai to speak at some religious meetings...hands me his personal testimony on our way to the flight...
I sleep the whole flight...we land in Chennai...it feels even more like India now...more hot, more humid, more populated, more chaotic...rush through the immigration check, go pick up my bags and make my way to the next-door domestic airport...its 4 in the morning...outside the airport, the air is lit by the light from within the airport and polluted by sand granules thrown up by the million people walking through it...reach the domestic airport, find its too early to check in my bag, wonder what to do...
spy an eatery on the right....Indian food ! hurry there only to be greeted by the slightly deflating sight of the range of British food - puffs, patties, rolls...decide to buy a veg samosa coz its the most Indian thing there, also buy a fountain pepsi...50 rupees in total ! is inflation in India so high or is it just that airport prices are inflated ?
find a seat in a collection of seats in front of a TV screen showing NDTV news...the seat is almost under the screen, so looking up at it feels vaguely like it might feel to look at the Eiffel Tower from below...needs the neck to be craned...not just my neck, but the necks of all people in that collection of seats...bad human-centered design...wouldn't be acceptable in the UK...us Indians just seem to settle for less...but are we any less happy ? does good human-centered design make the UK a happier place ? or does it spoil them and create ever-increasing expectations ?
sitting in my seat surrounded by Indians, neck craned to hear the NDTV reporter announce details of the forthcoming IPL auction, eating my samosa and sipping my Pepsi, I feel myself settling down...why am I starting to feel so comfortable ? is it simply because I am back in my homeland where things happen and people behave in ways that I completely understand ? is it because of the freedom you feel because of the relative anonymity that being in such a crowd of people affords ? is it because I don't feel I'm representing my country in a foreign land anymore ? or because the weight of having to follow social conventions alien to me is lifted ?
and why do I feel like I have more space even though everything is much more crowded ?
I make my way out of the airport to the auto and taxi stands and find a stone bench...I see two substantial dollops of crow-shit on the seat and happily settle down next to it...I seem to have settled into 'Indian mode'...my threshold for not being repulsed seems to have been multiplied tenfold...I look behind to see the taxi drivers cleaning their taxis before the day's work...one of them is brushing his teeth with his finger, using water for toothpaste...dirty water...I look in front of me and see the early-morning traffic...lots of two-wheelers, a Honda Civic, Honda Accord, a Maruthi Van...the density of vehicles increases with time, until I can feel the beat of the city expressing itself in the collective passing of those vehicles...Chennai is busy and alive and thriving...I look to my right to see a large building site that the workers have just arrived on...Chennai is growing and developing...
I go back to the airport, check in my luggage ...realise I left the whiskey bottle in the Mumbai flight...go and buy a new one and go to customs check-in...they won't allow me to carry the whiskey-bottle in my hand-luggage...I re-check-in the whiskey bottle into my flight luggage...board the flight...
window-seat...I look outside at the flat-roofed, multi-coloured houses...Marina Beach looks more beautiful than ever...we pass over the sea...before I realise it, we're preparing for landing at Coimbatore...I look down and see Anna-flyover from above, like I've never seen it before...we land and I walk from the plane to the airport...the walk is unexpectedly beautiful...in some ways, Coimbatore airport seems more beautiful than Heathrow...definitely more emphasis on nature...pick up my baggage, check if the whiskey-bottle is there, and head out wondering if my parents will be waiting...
walk out into the bright, yet gentle sunshine that is characteristic of Coimbatore...look around...ah ! there's my father's brown bald head, gleaming in the sunlight...and there's Amma...looking younger and happier than when I last saw her...they've seen me...hugs..."Happy Birthday Nitin !", Amma says....oh yea, how could I forget ! ITS MY BIRTHDAY !!!
the events of my birthday deserve a separate post, so will sign off for now...hoping to post again today evening and bring the blog up-to-date :)
Nitin
Wednesday 28 January 2009
pre-travel Euphoria
can life be better than this ?
I'm 10 hours away from boarding my flight to India and have been gripped by pre-travel Euphoria...I've finished my 1st year PhD viva and found that I've been transferred to the 2nd year...and at the moment, I don't think I could be feeling any happier...on the one hand, India beckons...the happy expectation of all the people I'm going to see, the places I'm going to visit, the food I'm going to eat...the anticipation of the million nice things that could happen on my trip...the absence of any niggling fear or guilt...just pure unadulterated excitement and happiness...and on the other hand, the knowledge that I have a good life to come back to in the UK...and interesting work and great friends...and opportunities to realise my potential and make a difference...
thank you God.
Monday 26 January 2009
My reason for this blog being
hi...I'm sitting in my office...its 30 minutes past midnight...been preparing for my 1st year PhD viva...3rd consecutive day I'm sitting in the office past midnight...don't know if thats good or bad...at the moment, whats keeping me going though, is the prospect of going to India on the 29th ! which is the reason for this blog being...
it's going to be my shortest trip to India yet...only 11 days...but in many ways, it promises to be the most significant...and it is to record this trip as it happens that I've created this blog...the last time I went to India was when I was 24...I'm still 24...I reach India on Jan 30th, when I'll be 25...but it feels like suchhhh a long time back...
for one, when I last left India, I still felt like a 'boy', now I feel more like a 'man' than ever...the last three months especially, I've felt my personality sort of flesh itself out completely...what was a semi-shaped personality before, with semi-opinions based on which I made semi-decisions, I now feel fully shaped...and have a fuller knowledge of myself...
but thats not all...whenever I've gone to India previously, its always felt like 'going back'...it doesn't feel like that now...it feels like I'm 'going home and coming back'....India is still undeniably home...but England doesn't feel like a temporary stopover anymore...it feels like my home away from home...
India for me, is about friends and family...and this trip will be the last time I get to see my friend who I had this huge crush on in school, before she gets married...I'll also see another good friend of mine from church, getting married...and I'll see the kid of a friend of mine who got married last year...I feel like I've been swimming underwater and have just resurfaced...and look up to see all these girls walking down a gang-plank and taking the plunge into the unknown waters of marriage...
but most of all, I'm going back home...I'm going back to India...inimitable India...with its chaos and dirt...and jam-packed buses and railway stations that for some reason, always create excitement...am going back to the easy atmosphere and the scorching sun and to meals that actually fill the stomach...am going back to Coimbatore...and to RS Puram, where all the pretty girls are...and where the collection of 'show-rooms' once seemed impressive, before I came to the UK....am going back to Madras, to the cutthroat auto-drivers with pictures of Jesus in their vehicles...and to T Nagar and to Besant Nagar and to Adyar...and to tender-coconut water on the road-side...and to people just like me...am going back to Appa and Amma and Inna ...and Ammamma and Thatha and Sudhakar Uncle and Nalini Aunty...
am sure its going to be interesting...and I've created this blog to allow me to reflect on each day and write about it and thereby live it more fully...I promise to try and make it interesting...and would love to hear any comments you might have :)
Thanks,
Nitin
it's going to be my shortest trip to India yet...only 11 days...but in many ways, it promises to be the most significant...and it is to record this trip as it happens that I've created this blog...the last time I went to India was when I was 24...I'm still 24...I reach India on Jan 30th, when I'll be 25...but it feels like suchhhh a long time back...
for one, when I last left India, I still felt like a 'boy', now I feel more like a 'man' than ever...the last three months especially, I've felt my personality sort of flesh itself out completely...what was a semi-shaped personality before, with semi-opinions based on which I made semi-decisions, I now feel fully shaped...and have a fuller knowledge of myself...
but thats not all...whenever I've gone to India previously, its always felt like 'going back'...it doesn't feel like that now...it feels like I'm 'going home and coming back'....India is still undeniably home...but England doesn't feel like a temporary stopover anymore...it feels like my home away from home...
India for me, is about friends and family...and this trip will be the last time I get to see my friend who I had this huge crush on in school, before she gets married...I'll also see another good friend of mine from church, getting married...and I'll see the kid of a friend of mine who got married last year...I feel like I've been swimming underwater and have just resurfaced...and look up to see all these girls walking down a gang-plank and taking the plunge into the unknown waters of marriage...
but most of all, I'm going back home...I'm going back to India...inimitable India...with its chaos and dirt...and jam-packed buses and railway stations that for some reason, always create excitement...am going back to the easy atmosphere and the scorching sun and to meals that actually fill the stomach...am going back to Coimbatore...and to RS Puram, where all the pretty girls are...and where the collection of 'show-rooms' once seemed impressive, before I came to the UK....am going back to Madras, to the cutthroat auto-drivers with pictures of Jesus in their vehicles...and to T Nagar and to Besant Nagar and to Adyar...and to tender-coconut water on the road-side...and to people just like me...am going back to Appa and Amma and Inna ...and Ammamma and Thatha and Sudhakar Uncle and Nalini Aunty...
am sure its going to be interesting...and I've created this blog to allow me to reflect on each day and write about it and thereby live it more fully...I promise to try and make it interesting...and would love to hear any comments you might have :)
Thanks,
Nitin
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