January 21st, 2010
Thursday
Chennai, India
Nervously, Philip put on a T-shirt and adjusted his jeans. Meenakshi had finally called. She had asked him to meet her at Burma Bazaar in George Town at 5:30 pm. He had been confused and alarmed by the abrupt, impatient tone of her voice. Something was definitely wrong, that much he knew. He put on his shoes and made his way downstairs and out of the door. Into his garage, onto his motorbike and away.
It was close to peak hour and traffic was heavy. He waited patiently and slowly crawled along toward George Town. He reached at 5:20 pm, dismounted his bike and made his way to their usual meeting place. Burma Bazaar was situated in one of the less affluent areas in Chennai and was a thriving market for smuggled electronic goods, CDs, watches and perfumes. The shops were mere stalls lined one against another, on either side of the road. Competition among shop-keepers was fierce because of the similarity of goods on sale, and the quoted price of an item was usually about three times what it was finally sold for. On the left side of the road, between one line of shops and another, was a slum area. This is where Philip and Meenakshi had met often – the poor nature of the neighbourhood reduced the likelihood of being spotted by anybody they knew. Also, the hustle and bustle of the market allowed them to pass unnoticed, except by the children in the slum.
Philip walked down the first line of shops and turned left. Meenakshi was already there, leaning against a wall covered with garish film posters. She saw him, acknowleged him with a faint smile and continued looking down at the ground. Her posture, her expression, her movements, all spoke of resignation. Philip went up to her and she moved away imperceptibly. “Thanks for coming”, she said, continuing to look down at the ground. Philip didn’t know how to respond. “I wanted to tell you something important”, she continued, her voice quivering. “On Saturday, my father has arranged for a guy to come and meet me, with a view toward getting married. Father would dearly like me to marry him. So, I probably will. If not him, I will marry some other Brahmin boy. I can’t go against my father’s wishes.”, she paused for breath and tried to look up at Philip. For a brief instant, their eyes met, “Philip, we can’t see each other again”.
She turned and walked away. Philip saw her flagging down an auto-rickshaw, getting in and going away. He vividly felt a rush of blood to his head, throbbing at his temples. For a minute, he leant against the wall, then he sat down on a rock. A child from the slum was playing just next to him. A dog was eating some garbage to his left. Slowly, excrutiatingly, he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.
“It can’t be”, he thought. “did she say she never wants to see me again? How can that be possible? It simply can’t be”, he decided. “But it is true. She is going to marry a Brahmin boy.”, he realised. He felt like a gong had hit him in the head. His head reeled. He could hear a loud clanging in his ears. Deafening.
“What was there to live for now”, he thought desperately, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. He felt like he was in a vacuum, falling down, flailing for something to cling on to. “How can life go on? What life is there anymore?”. He sat there, collapsed against the wall till dark. Then, he made his way up, walking to his motor-bike. He mounted his bike and noticed his hands shaking violently. He dismounted and wheeled his motor-bike home.
******************
Meenakshi returned home at 6 pm. She went up to her room. She half-closed her door, switched off the light and sat on her bed with her back against the wall. She drew her legs close to her, hugging them close to her chest. She had exhausted her tears, she didn’t feel anything anymore. Aimlessly, she stared ahead. In this position, she stayed for close to five hours.
At 10:57 pm, Aishwarya called her on her mobile phone. Meenakshi picked it up. “Hi Meenakshi”, Aishwarya said cheerfully. “Hi”, responded Meenakshi in a dull monotone. “Listen Meenakshi, I called to ask what the matter is”, said Aishwarya. A pause. “You picked the right time to call”, murmered Meenakshi. “There isn’t a problem anymore. I can tell you everything”. Episode by episode, she narrated everything, Aishwarya listening avidly. “…and so today, I told him we can never see each other again”, she ended bravely. Talking about it had made her feel better. Aishwarya picked her words carefully. “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing. Your father’s wishes are definitely more important”, said Aishwarya. “Definitely”, responded Meenakshi. “I’m sure this Brahmin boy will take good care of you”, continued Aishwarya. “I’m sure he will”, replied Meenakshi. “…and you’ll live happily ever after!”, concluded Aishwarya cheerily. A long pause. “Meenakshi?”, called Aishwarya. “…but Aish, what about Philip?”, she burst out, her voice acquiring a controlled passion. “It is him that I love, him that is a part of me, him that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else even comes close. Don’t you understand?” Pause. “I do”, answered Aishwarya. “It’s no use talking about it now. You should go and sleep now, I’ll call tomorrow morning. Goodnight”. “Goodnight”, sighed Meenakshi, switching the phone off and collapsing into bed.
******************
It was past midnight and Dr. Narayan was pacing up and down the living room. “Could there be something to it?”, he kept muttering to himself, “could there actually be something to it?.”
Since Meenakshi had left her door half-open, he had inadvertently heard Meenakshi’s side of her conversation with Aishwarya. For the past 3 days, he had watched with concern at his daughter’s deteriorating physical appearance. She seemed distraught, torn; it pained him. But his will had held firm. He wasn’t going to change his plans. Until today. A phrase that Meenakshi had said kept echoing in his mind. “…it is him that I love”, she had said, “nobody else even comes close, don’t you understand?”. It had pierced him. There had been a seething, primal sincerity in her voice. For an instant, he had been able to see clearly the strength, the power, the beauty of her relationship with Philip. He didn’t know what to think of it, how to react to it.
Or had he just been carried away? Was it just the passion of infatuation as he had always suspected?
For many years, Dr. Narayan had been in control of life. For long, he had not questioned his paradigms, his beliefs, his assumptions – he had not had reason to. Now, he found himself groping, confused, for the first time in a long time. He found it uncomfortable, loathsome even – he didn’t like not knowing what to do. But, he knew he had to deal with it.
He loved his daughter dearly, she was his pride and joy. He only wanted what was best for her. He thought he knew what was best for her, but in this case, did he? Or did she know better?
“Could there be something to it?”, he muttered under his breath, “could there actually be something to it?.”
******************
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Tension (Part 5)
January 22nd, 2010
Friday
Chennai, India
On Friday 22nd January, Dr. Narayan made two phone calls. One phone call lasted 33 seconds. The other phone-call lasted 22 minutes and 33 seconds. He made the short phone-call after he made the long phone-call.
******************
Friday
Chennai, India
On Friday 22nd January, Dr. Narayan made two phone calls. One phone call lasted 33 seconds. The other phone-call lasted 22 minutes and 33 seconds. He made the short phone-call after he made the long phone-call.
******************
Tension (Part 6)
January 23rd, 2010
Saturday
Chennai, India
Meenakshi woke up and looked at the clock, yawning. 8 am. That boy Ramesh would be arriving at 10 am. She went and had a bath, came back and carefully tied a deep red saree. She plaited her hair and placed a bunch of malli-poo (jasmine flower) on it. Skilfully, she lined her eyes with eye-liner and placed a new pottu on her forehead. Looking at the mirror, she practised a smile.
At 9:30 am, she went out to have breakfast and was greeted by her father’s approving smile at her dress. As she was finishing her breakfast, at 9:55 am, she heard a motor-bike’s roar. “That must be Ramesh – how curious that he should come to see me in a motor-bike”, she thought. Cautiously, she got up and went to look out of the window.
There was a young man. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through it. Meenakshi squinted. Wait a minute. That wasn’t Ramesh. She was almost sure it was Philip. What was he doing here? “Oh my God, it is Philip!”, she thought fearfully as he walked up to the door beaming. Dr. Narayan opened the door and greeted Philip, asking him inside. Meenakshi was confused. Incredulously, she looked from Philip to her father and her father to Philip. Both of them were smiling widely.
“Meenakshi, this is the boy I want you to marry”, announced Dr. Narayan.
******************
Saturday
Chennai, India
Meenakshi woke up and looked at the clock, yawning. 8 am. That boy Ramesh would be arriving at 10 am. She went and had a bath, came back and carefully tied a deep red saree. She plaited her hair and placed a bunch of malli-poo (jasmine flower) on it. Skilfully, she lined her eyes with eye-liner and placed a new pottu on her forehead. Looking at the mirror, she practised a smile.
At 9:30 am, she went out to have breakfast and was greeted by her father’s approving smile at her dress. As she was finishing her breakfast, at 9:55 am, she heard a motor-bike’s roar. “That must be Ramesh – how curious that he should come to see me in a motor-bike”, she thought. Cautiously, she got up and went to look out of the window.
There was a young man. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through it. Meenakshi squinted. Wait a minute. That wasn’t Ramesh. She was almost sure it was Philip. What was he doing here? “Oh my God, it is Philip!”, she thought fearfully as he walked up to the door beaming. Dr. Narayan opened the door and greeted Philip, asking him inside. Meenakshi was confused. Incredulously, she looked from Philip to her father and her father to Philip. Both of them were smiling widely.
“Meenakshi, this is the boy I want you to marry”, announced Dr. Narayan.
******************
Saturday, 24 October 2009
2 days in Denmark
"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.
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.
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...
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