Iruvar - Cinema that flows

The enduring image I had of Iruvar before actually seeing the full movie in 2003 was Aishwarya Rai’s bottle-green dress backed by Harini’s sonorous voice singing “Hello Mr. Ethirkatchi”. I found this image captivating, not because of Aishwarya Rai but because it was a song from a Mani Ratnam movie. 

Like most of my wannabe-intellectual friends I became a Mani Ratnam fan long before I saw this gem of a movie. In fact most of us do not know why we became Mani Ratnam fans. Was it because his movies struck a chord with us? Was it because he chose to make movies that attempted to be more relatable and grounded? Or was it because he genuinely believed in the marriage of the commercial and the connoisseur aspects of cinema? It could have been any of these reasons, but if truth be told, we became Mani Ratnam fans because we wanted to project ourselves as intellectuals. I always had this notion that people believed that someone who loved Mani’s movies had to have a certain level of intelligence. This was the fodder for the fan in me, until I read Baradwaj Rangan’s ‘Conversations with Mani Ratnam’ and decided to revisit his movies. This myth of mine came unfounded and hence I decided to dig up my dormant blog to write about it. I could have written about Mouna Ragam’s poignant brilliance, Thiruda Thiruda’s extreme irreverence or Roja’s patriotic love but after watching Iruvar, there was no hesitation in my mind as to which movie to base this post upon.

Iruvar, in my humble opinion, is Mani Ratnam’s best work till date and not a single movie of his, save Kannathil Muthamittal to an extent, has even come close to the poetic flow that this movie has. Most of Mani’s other movies can be easily defined as a collection of brilliantly conceptualized scenes put together by masterful screenplay and strengthened by brilliant performances. Iruvar, on the other hand, consists of these sweeping sketches, each of which covers a phase of the protagonists’ life graph. The signature style of Mani ratnam – Shadow and lighting contrast – is limited in Iruvar. The film instead has a very different type of contrast. It has a highly detailed period setting as far as visuals are concerned and these visuals are contrasted by music that is stylized to give a modern feel to this setting. The song ‘Aayiratthil Naan Oruvan’ is a superb example of this. While Mohan Lal’s costume and the whole setting of the song are detailed in period, the music gives a periodic feel only with respect to lyrics and the voice. Otherwise the song is replete with electric guitar and pads. Another striking aspect of Iruvar is the manner in which Mani has written the two lead characters. Both the characters have a core and a periphery. A simplistic biopic could have easily imitated the periphery of these well-known stars – similar costumes, voice modulations, looks - thereby instantly invoking their memories in the audience mind. But Mani chose the more difficult route. He imitated the core. At the core of Anandan was a larger-than-life actor, a romantic and a charismatic do-gooder. The context was left to Mohan Lal and he came out with a performance that shouted out ‘MGR’s core while conceptualizing a periphery of his own. Similarly, at the core of Thamizhchelvan was a writer, a wizard with words and a fierce Dravidian. I don’t need to say anything further about Prakash Raj’s portrayal of this character.

After the protagonists and the ensemble cast, each of whom came up with such a stellar yet sedate performance, the backbone of the movie, I felt, were Vairamuthu’s poems. When Prakash Raj mouthed lines like “Unnoadu Naan Iruntha Ovvoru Mani Thuliyum Marana Padukkayilum Marakkaathu Kanmaniyae” or “Udal mannukku Uyir Thamizhukku Idhai urakka cholvom ulagukku” I was mesmerized by the beauty of my mother tongue and also surprised by how easily I was able to understand these lines. Vairamuthu’s poems actually added a commercial aspect to the film by taking the viewer back to the sixties – the era of cinematic influence. 

Iruvar was the first movie to be produced by Mani Ratnam’s home banner – Madras Talkies. When people conclude that Mani produced this movie because he wanted to do away with commercial pressures that tag along when other companies produce his films, they have missed seeing the movie for what it actually was – a movie aimed to entertain. Even the second or third viewing of Iruvar will have you in rapt attention. Mani attempts to captivate the viewer not by forcible induction of masala, but through beautiful visuals, brilliant performances and, above all, the trust he places on the viewer.

Mani Ratnam does not necessarily acknowledge the intelligence of his audience. He simply refuses to assume their gullibility. 

THE SECOND INNINGS

“Look at straightness of his elbow!” exclaimed Raman, slapping his six year old son on the back. Swami smiled gleefully as the little man on the screen punched another good length ball to the boundary.

Swami was introduced to cricket by his father on a rainy Monday. He did not want to attend school and his mother would hear none of it. Raman, however, reasoned with her.

“Let the child rest. As it is I am not going to office today. I will take care of him”.

Jaya smiled.

“So, what was his score overnight? “She asked.

Raman grinned sheepishly and went out to get the morning paper.

The bond between Raman and his son started because of one man – Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. That Monday changed the relationship between them as Sachin (thirty seven not out overnight on a tricky Mumbai wicket) went on to score a memorable century. A bewitched Swami fell into the world of Sachinism and, like millions of Indians, became its permanent occupant. His father was a purist as far as cricket was concerned and regarded Sachin as the most complete batsman. The expansive extolments by his father coupled with the string of breath-taking innings that Sachin played ensured that Swami matched his dad when it came to worshipping Sachin.

As the years passed Cricket and Sachin were the only topics that bound a rather fragile father-son relationship. Even after this mutual interest, the two of them found very few topics on which they were comfortable conversing with each other. Discussion regarding Sachin’s innings or India’s victory would last for hours after which there would be periods of awkward silence before both of them went their respective ways to mind their businesses. Further, College outside hometown and a subsequent job in North India meant that the relationship between Raman and Swami grew even more dysfunctional. Whenever Swami called home and Raman picked up, there would be uneasy pauses before either he asked for mother or Raman passed over the phone to his wife.

Fifteen years went by like this before Swami got an unexpected transfer back to his hometown. This meant that suddenly he was forced to spend more time with Raman. Like Swami, Raman had also changed. His conversations were now limited to Jaya and his need for companionship made him irritable on many occasions. When he got to know that Swami was coming back, he felt a surge of happiness mixed with a small dose of apprehension. What if his son carried the mannerisms he exhibited over the phone into the house? It had been more than ten years since they had had a decent one-on-one talk. When Swami arrived home and smiled at his mother while giving a perfunctory nod at Raman, his fears were confirmed. His son had almost become a stranger to him.

Swami’s views and outlook had changed a lot in the years he had stayed away from home. The same laidback, joke-cracking Raman who he used to look up to was now a source of annoyance to him. He despised the conservative attitude of his father and his insistence on following rules and regulations, even at home. Raman’s constant jibes at Jaya for issues of inconsequence irked him. When Raman tried to impose these rules on him as well, Swami’s attitude towards his father went from bad to worse. He gave a deaf ear to Raman’s pleas and appeals and refused to even look him in the eye.

Swami felt thankful for Sundays as it was a holiday for him and both his parents. This meant that he needn’t be alone with Raman. Saturdays, though, were a nightmare as Jaya went to work while Swami and Raman had holidays. Swami tried to avoid staying home on Saturdays by planning meetings with school friends, colleagues and even cousins. Another significant change in Swami was the fact that cricket had lost its charm on him. Sachin was no more the boy wonder who drew Swami to cricket and made him bunk school and college lectures. He was a tired old man trying his best to leave the cricketing scene with dignity. It had been three years since he had scored a century. Naturally the cricket conversations between Swami and Raman had become almost non-existent.

It was a usual Saturday morning and Swami was getting ready to flee the house as quickly as he could. The TV blared in a volume high enough for the whole apartment to hear, which was typical of Raman whenever he saw TV. Swami felt a bout of irritation creeping into him.

As he crossed the hallway he caught a glimpse of the TV. Live cricket was going on between India and Australia. He wanted to get across and out of the door quickly, but something held him back. The moment he slowed down, a wicket fell. India was now two down. Sachin Tendulkar walked into the ground. Swami cast a sideways glance at Raman and was surprised to see the familiar glint in his eyes. After all these years, the expectancy had not reduced one bit. He felt somewhat ashamed at his own loss of faith while his sixty year old father’s enthusiasm had not diminished at all. He looked back at the screen as Sachin took guard. The all-too-familiar body language of the champion had not changed. The fuss with the sightscreen, the adjustments in the groin area, the slight nod of the head, they were all intact. There was one difference though. The twinkly eyes had given way to a look of steely determination. He faced the first ball with a decisive forward movement and defended with a full-straight bat. Raman smiled eagerly. Swami knew that the old Raman would have immediately made his trademark comment – “Ah! The forward movement! He looks good today.” There was no comment from his father though. That moment threw open a floodgate of memories for Swami. He felt a pang of guilt at having side-lined the two men who had made sacrifices in their own capacities to nurture the love for cricket in him – Sachin Tendulkar and his father.

He pulled up a chair and sat down. The next ball was just short of good length. Sachin went back and punched it down the ground. The ball raced to the boundary.

Swami looked into his father’s eyes for the first time in many years.

“Look at the straightness of his elbow!” He exclaimed.

And thus began their second innings... 

We know what we did this 'SUMMERS'

Disclaimer: This post is a mixture of truth, exaggeration and utter lies, but in order to preserve the safety of my provisional summer internship offer I am not going to reveal which parts are true, which are exaggerated and which ones are utter lies. So I am giving a disclaimer within a disclaimer: I am not responsible for this disclaimer nor the disclaimer outside this disclaimer and whatever I post cannot be taken at face value.

I was under the impression that business school involved this high-funda lifestyle where people got together for group projects as if they were convening an annual general body meeting, cracked challenging problems like they were born business magnates, germinated path-breaking entrepreneurial ideas and, most importantly, had absolutely no restrictions to venture into girls’ rooms. Three months into B-school, only one of the above myths turned out to be true (you might hazard a guess as to which one, but I am not revealing it). We still mugged, we still procrastinated everything to the last moment, we still felt happy when people around us did badly in a particular quiz or exam and we still tried our best to catch the cute girl’s attention (at least most boys, and maybe, a few girls).

Ultimately, most of us had one goal for getting into a B-school – placements (most of us won’t accept this openly). The summer recruitment, which used to be a two-month exposure for enthusiastic management students, has transformed into a genuine opportunity at high-paying PPO giving jobs. So the tension of summers was in the air at least a month before the actual process started at my school. I tried to go with the group and force some tension into myself, but my efforts were in vain. I had found a cosy little group which had troubles similar to mine and we ended up preparing together for the summers. Now, imagine three to four people, all pretty thick-skinned to worry too much about summers, PPOs and ‘day zero’ shortlists sitting together every night to prepare for the same. Naturally, we ended up discussing one-sided crushes, Sridevi’s hottest songs, which different place to order food from, how our future wives should be and other such topics. Suddenly Day zero of placements arrived. Obviously, we didn't have any shortlists, but were expected to be present in something called the ‘common pool’ so that we would feel ‘part’ of the process. I decided to add a little creativity to being part of the process by wearing a bright pink shirt and an even brighter red tie for this common pool assembly on ‘day zee’, as the ones who got the coveted calls referred to it. Day zee was a breeze for me as I just sat around for most of it, only getting up to congratulate the people who cracked their shortlists. I had a heavy lunch and decided to take a short nap, commonly referred to as ‘SNAP’ by us lazy non-day zee people. I reached my room, divested myself off the layered apparels I was forced to wear and slept like a baby. I was woken by someone urgently asking me to come back to the common pool as some venture capital firm had shortlisted me for an interview. I cursed the firm and its owner using some choicest native abuses as I struggled with my double knot. As I sat waiting in the common pool, I was handed a copy which briefly described what this firm did. There was no reason for this firm to shortlist me based on my resume or profile, so I was still hoping for some placement rep. to come over to me and apologize  saying that there has been some mistake and I was not in the shortlist after all. The placement rep. did come, but only to escort me to my interview room. After an embarrassing forty-five minutes with the founder of this focused Venture firm, I decided to never apply to companies just for the heck of it; otherwise such shocks are bound to occur.

Day zee was followed by the group discussion day, where all the marketing and general management companies’ shortlisted people for group discussions and these people got together and did everything but physically and verbally abuse each other. I got the first shortlist that was out and felt pretty pumped up. It was scheduled at 6:30 am, so I was expecting a day packed with group discussions after that.

That was the only shortlist I got; of course I didn’t convert it.

So we trotted on to day zero-point-five (don’t even ask me to explain the logic behind this bizarre numbering). With no shortlists in the vicinity and people around me getting placed left right and centre, a group of us started to see the funny side of things. We realised that we were the ‘paneer’ gang – the group which stood at marriage hall entrances and sprinkled rose water (paneer) on the guests. The only difference was that we were standing in the common pool and showering wishes on the people who got placed. We formed a circle, discussed random topics, waited for the caterers to appear with the morning tiffin, intermediary fruit plates, tea/coffee, afternoon lunch, evening snacks and night dinner. Overall, it was a perfect marriage-hall experience. I got a group discussion shortlist in between my ‘paneer’ commitments. This time, I buttered up the panel by thanking them for giving us this chance to discuss. Apart from that whatever I spoke had tremendous likeness to whatever I excreted in the morning. As you would have guessed by now, I cleared the Group discussion round and got an interview shortlist. The interview went better than I expected and when the HR lady asked if I viewed their firm as a long-term, say twenty year, career option I was pretty certain that they would be extending an offer to me. I came out of the interview room, phone ready in my hand and my home residence number already scrolled and my thumb on the call button. The placement rep. came and informed me that I can go and wait in the common pool for other interviews as the firm was not considering me for further rounds or offer.  I switched off my mobile and went back to the common pool. I resumed my paneer commitments for an hour or so before another PR came to me, stating that a major media firm is calling me for an interview. I trudged along once again, my mind almost blank and my eyes droopy. I remember being asked about brand perception and brand image during the interview and if you ask me even now, I would not be in a position to answer these questions. I do not remember how I answered them during the interview, but the company extended an offer to me.

I entered the common pool with a smile plastered on my face. The ‘paneer’ gang continued its work albeit a touch emotionally, as it had lost one of its members.

The ‘sprinkler’ had become the ‘sprinklee’

IIM-A Interview - Blow-by-blow...literal blows...

19th Feb 2012 - My IIM-A Interview experience...proof of Murphy's Law coming true whenever it has a chance to come true, which is always...which again proves Murphy's Law...


(P1 – Male (Smiling & Friendly); P2 – Female (Very Smiling and Very Friendly))

P1 – Have a seat Jagannath

Me – Good evening Sir! Good evening Ma’am!

Both: Good Evening

P2 – So Jagannath, Tell me something very interesting about yourself…

[Though about starting with hometown and talking abt germany internship]

Me – I am from Chennai and…

P2 (interrupting me) – And why do you think that is interesting? Ok, what is the population of Chennai?

Me – 45 Lakhs

P2 – So you are one among 45 Lakhs. Why should that be interesting?

Me – In the context of the present interview group, I could see that I am the only one from Chennai here, rest all being from Mumbai or Pune, So I thought you might find the diversity I brought to this process in that way as interesting…

[Nod and slight laughter from P2]

P2 – Ok. Continue…

[Spoke about German internship]

P2 – Where all did you go in Germany?

[Told a few places like Dusseldorf, Cologne]

P2 – Ok. Germany was actually in disarray after WW-II. But now they seem to controlling the sinking Eurozone economy. So why do you think they are in that position?

Me – Countries like Greece, Italy and Portugal borrowed a lot of money and went on a spending spree without controlling their revenue. The main reason for the huge debt is also that these countries failed to control the labour wages, which have risen by more than 40%. Germany on the other hand, have absolute control over labour wages, have a very minimal trade deficit and are export oriented. Thus they seem to be the saviours of the Euro zone crisis right now

P1 – Ok Jagannath. You work as a Sales Engineer in Sain-Gobain. Tell us something about the product you handle and competition

[Talked quite well about it. This went on for about ten mins, with P1 asking me market shares, innovations in product and new developments in the market. I answered quite well and was getting very comfortable and relaxed]

P1 – Ok, good. Now I am giving you three options. Choose one of them so that I can ask questions in that option – Differentiation, Geometry, Statistics…

[Mind voice – Enna vecchu onnum comedy keemedy pannalayae >

[P1 gives some list of numbers and tells me to find mean median and mode. I do it. Then comes the Aapu]

P1 – So tell me, if I plot these values, would I get a smooth curve?

Me – With some corrections and adjustments we might get a smooth curve sir.

P1 – What will its shape be?

Me – Bell curve Sir

P1 [giving paper and pencil] - ok. Plot it and show…

[I take it and draw the axes and just start marking the points when he interrupts]

P1 – what you are doing, even a school student will do. Ok, tell me, if I make the mean, median and mode to coincide for these values, will the curve be closer in resemblance to the bell curve or farther?

Me – I am not sure about that sir…

P1 – Just hazard a guess…

Me – I think it will be closer to the bell curve…

P1 – You shouldn’t have chosen statistics. You are not comfortable in it…

Me – Actually I am not comfortable with any of the three topics sir. But comparatively I thought I can handle statistics better…

P1 – Why is that? You graduated in 2009 only. You should have studied all this in your engineering…

[I give a sheepish grin]

P1 – Ok. Choose among the other two now…

[I felt a little like Vadivelu…Ivan evlo adichaalum thangaraan…remba nallavan…]

Me – Differentiation Sir.

[P1 gives some equation and asks me to find maxima and minima. I do some derivative crap and come up with some answer. The he asks me to plot the graph for the equation. I do…and lo behold! Both maxima and minima tending to infinity…]

P1 – So what do you think?

Me – Yes sir. I got confused. Both are tending to infinity…

[P2, all this while is browsing my file and interrupts now]

P2 – Jagannath. You have done this course called HR Skills in your second, fourth and fifth semester…so what skills that you learnt you are using in your current job?

Me – I learnt effective communication skills which have been of immense help in my present job…

P2 interrupts me – Leave aside communication skills. Tell me some HR Skills that you are using…

[I am completely nonplussed, basically because I don’t even remember what they taught in that stupid 1 credit course]

P2 – Ok. Do you remember anything you learnt in this course?

Me – We were basically taught effective communication, interview mannerisms and how to attend an interview…

P2 – So what are these mannerisms?

[I told about the posture, hand position and stuff…]

P2 – Do you agree with all this that they taught?

Me – I have found it to be the most relaxed way to sit in an interview, so I agree with them…

P2 – What is this Mullaperiyar?

Me – It was a dam built in the Tn-Kerala Border ma’am…

P2 – When was it built?

[I got reminded of some history spot quiz…]

Me – 1888…

P2 – Are you sure?

Me – Not entirely, but I am sure it is somewhere in the 1880s to 1890s…

P2 – So what is the issue with it.

Me – Kerala’s issue is that it is built mostly of limestone which is dissolvable in water, and also the dam is very weak and susceptible to seismic disturbances…

P2 – Oh. Only dissolution is the problem?

Me – no Ma’am. Even the seismic withstanding capability…

P2 – Have any tremors occurred recently?

Me – According to reports, there were mild tremors even in October 2011…

P2 – So have Kerala built any dam downstream to this dam

Me – Yes

P2 – How many?

Me – Only one

P2 – Sure?

Me – Yes

P2 – What is its name?

Me – I don’t remember Ma’am…

P2 – So what is TN’s contention on the issue…

Me – TN gets about 140 cu. Units of water from the dam which serves for irrigation and farming purposes in the water starved Madurai, Theni, Dindigul belt. If as per Kerala’s argument, this dam is destroyed and a new dam be built downstream, then the water flow to these districts will drastically reduce which will effect a serious water scarcity for these districts…

P2 – Ok, Jagannath. Thank you…

P1 – Thank you Jagannath. Have a toffee…

[Mind voice: Adhu onnu dhaan korachal…]

SHACKLES

From an obscure mass curled up in a womb

To a lifeless form asleep in a tomb

Surrounded we are everywhere by shackles

In vain do we make an attempt to grapple

The chain adds a link everyday anew

Thousands claim stake for places too few

Everything’s a comparison with our peers

We toil and struggle, all for empty cheers?

Schooling opens paths trodden to the limit

Interested or not, you have no say in it

Colleges manufacture degree certified machines

Who land up in companies with numerous dreams.

A year or two at work

brings questions to the mind

Masters or Management

else y’are left behind

Blinded by the need for money, power and fame

We choose a path seeing others do the same

Every step taken to release oneself from shackles

Is nothing but a journey within vicious circles

Then what is to be done to break free and go?

All we need is freedom, to say Yes…and a firm No

CHILD'S PLAY

Rajiv gave me a wide-eyed look which meant to say that what I had said just now sounded ridiculous. Being a boy of eleven, he didn’t have the courtesy to finish off with the look alone and proceeded to pronounce the meaning of his look emphatically.

“You want to play cricket with us??” he exclaimed, giving full vent to his tone of shock.

“Why not! I thought I would give you boys a few pointers”, I replied.

The look on his face turned from one of shock to one of hopelessness. He hung his head down and muttered ‘ok’ as I grabbed the bat and made my way out of the house.

Cousins who are almost half your age rarely see you as their equal. And the fact that you are a bespectacled, pot-bellied guy of twenty four with hairline which can be termed as invisible rather than receding doesn’t project you as the next milk swigging M.S.Dhoni. So I was not surprised by this less than welcome attitude of Rajiv. Still, I wanted to see how the rules of Street cricket had changed since my times. And I was itching to have some good old ‘gaaji’ at the expense of the little twerps.

***********

We reached a street which had houses on both sides and three stumps right at the centre. There were about twelve boys milling around, teasing one another and cracking up. It felt so refreshing to be in their midst and forget the constrained life I was forced to lead. I experienced a rush of happiness as I went to join them. Instinctively I laid a generous slap on the back of a kid who didn’t seem to have any body parts except a head and a stomach. The head turned in my direction and the laughter ceased immediately. Twelve pairs of eyes looked at me as if I were a terrorist. Though they were merely curious, I could actually visualize grinding of teeth, cracking of knuckles and hissing as they looked at me.

“Hey guys! I am Rajiv’s cousin. Can I join you fellows?” I asked, putting forth my most affable persona.

The twelve pairs of eyes shifted their focus to the actual culprit now-Rajiv. He looked sideways at me in a pleading manner. “Please don’t do this” said the look. I stood firm on my decision.

 They had no choice but to start splitting into two teams. The big question was- who would get the prized possession? In other words, me.

After much fight amongst themselves it was decided that I be in the team of the healthy looking young boy whom I had smote on the back. He let out a loud bawl when they had settled this which, I presume, must have been because of immense joy. The other team was captained by this intense looking fellow called Raghu. While most of the other kids were laughing, teasing and talking this fellow was silent and focused. He didn’t behave like an eleven year old at all which took me by surprise. But as the match proceeded my surprise was short-lived.

************

Our Yokozuna junior won the toss and we decided to bat. I decided let the kids have a go first so that I can be there as a backup in case of a sudden collapse or if we are in need of quick runs. But Yoko thought otherwise. He signaled to me.

“You go opening”, he told brusquely.

I felt very flattered by his faith in me. It was not before I took my stance to face the first ball that I got to know the real reason behind this when I heard Yoko talking to Rajiv.

“Are you mad dude? Why did you send him opening?” Rajiv asked

“Relax da! This way we can keep the important wickets intact”, Yoko replied.

If I had been their age I would have felt either very angry or very embarrassed as I listened to this atrocity. But the ‘adult me’ didn’t feel anything. I just wanted some fun time out and brushed the incident away reasoning that kids will remain kids.

The rules were pretty simple. There was only one side you could score runs- straight. You were out if you hit the ball directly into any of the houses and were granted one run if you hit the ball along the ground into any of the houses.

Raghu opened the bowling for them. He had the same fiery, intense look in his eyes. I decided to play a quiet maiden over and settle my nerves. He ran up and bowled. I plonked my foot forward to defend only to see the ball whizzing past me like a furry blur. Man, this guy was quick! I looked up at him. He gave a little smirk. I had to alter my course of action. I would henceforth adopt the stump-guarding mode of batsmanship, I decided. For the next ball I covered all three stumps and presented the full face of the bat to the straight half volley. It smacked me on my leg and pain shot through me. I never imagined that a tennis ball could cause such pain. As I bent down to rub my leg I heard Raghu shout.

“Full cover!! That is full cover. He cannot cover his stumps fully”, he exclaimed at the umpire who was from our team only. The guy nodded and asked me not to cover my stumps. This was new. I had never come across such nonsense in my playing days. Of course, the kid in me wanted to argue but the ‘adult me’ once again bottled down the rebellious ‘kid me’ and acceded to the demands of Raghu. The next ball was a fierce Yorker and of course, the most obvious thing happened.

“Yesssss! Bowled!!!” Raghu screamed. He looked at me as if to say ‘Ha! Were these the pointers you wanted to teach us?’ He gave a supercilious wave of his hand as I walked back to the side where my teammates were standing. Once again, the ‘adult me’ took charge and calmed me down. Instead of thinking ‘Wait till I get my hands on the ball and smash that little devil’s stumps into smithereens!!’ I ended up thinking ‘Wow! The little fellow does bowl well’.

The rest of our innings went pretty well. Rajiv and the kid who was umpiring while I batted stitched together a nice little partnership and Yoko came in during the final overs and muscled some hefty half-dozens. We ended up making 84 in 10 overs.

As we prepared to bowl, I decided to take up the wicketkeeper’s position, assuming that I would have less running to do. The mistake of my assumption, of course, was my gross overestimation of my keeping abilities. After letting some eight balls slip through right between my legs, missing three catches and two stumpings I was called off by Yoko.

“Please say that you are injured. We will take a substitute- my kid brother”, said Yoko, pointing to a smaller, rounder version of himself who was standing beside him sucking a lollipop. Did he really think this fellow could field or keep better than me? The ‘kid me’ wanted to put forth the question but the ‘adult me’ intervened once again.

“Sure. Go ahead”, I said.

Yoko went across to Raghu and they seemed to have a lengthy argument. He came back shaking his head. I looked over at Raghu and saw that familiar smirk on his face as our eyes met.

“He is not accepting. Ok. You take up that position near the boundary”, he said resignedly, pointing at the chalk marked line some 30 yards behind the bowling crease. I jogged up there and stood.

The match proceeded along without major hiccups from my side as I didn’t have much to do. I could call it either coincidence or luck, but the balls either sailed over my head for sixes or rolled up to me in a gentle fielder-friendly way.

 The luck lasted for nine overs.

************

Rajiv held the ball and scrutinized the field. They needed twelve runs of six balls. He started the over.

He bowled three superb balls without giving away a single run. Off the fourth ball he took a wicket. It all seemed nice and easy.

Then Raghu walked in.

He took stance and smacked the next ball straight over Rajiv’s head.

“Catch it Uncle”, someone shouted.

I was deeply offended by this. But in hindsight I shouldn’t have reacted to this ‘Uncling’ as the ball came soaring towards my head. It was at a perfectly catchable height, in between the eyes and the throat. I should have put my hands in position and held on to this sitter. Instead I ducked.

Yes, ducked.

“Sixxxxxx!!” shouted Raghu’s teammates. I could sense that smirk on Raghu’s face even at such a distance.

Yoko gave me an enraged look. Rajiv almost had tears in his eyes. I waved apologetically at them and positioned myself for the final ball.

Rajiv ran in and bowled a useless half volley. Raghu heaved at it. The ball soared once again.

“Catch it Anna”, someone shouted.

I felt a sudden surge of joy. I focused on the ball. But this time it was traveling over my head. I stretched my arms over my head and leaned back. I felt something soft and furry land on my palms and immediately closed my hands around it.

I could hear a mixture of shouts. Amidst the ‘Yesssss We won’ I could also hear ‘That is a six. He went over the line’. I looked back.

My heel was almost a centimeter outside the boundary line.

 I turned towards the raging crowd running towards me. Rajiv had a pleading look in his eyes. Yoko was all red and flushed up. Raghu was intense as usual and outran the other two. As he approached me, I looked once again at Rajiv’s pleading face.

I pulled my leg inside in as discreet a way as possible.

The crowd milled around me. Raghu looked at my position and let out a resigned sigh.

I looked at him. The ‘kid me’ toppled the ‘adult me’.

“Ha! We Won!!!” I shouted, giving my version of a smirk right back at him.

*********

As we made our way back, Rajiv went on talking excitedly about the final over. He literally made a superhero act out of my catch off the final ball.

As I raised my hand to high five his waiting one, an inadvertent smile escaped my lips.

Kids will, indeed, remain kids.

OPEN LETTER TO MR COOK

Dear Cook

This is a dispassionate and unbiased letter to you from an aggrieved Indian fan. But first things first: In Your Face!!! Ok, now on to the dispassionate, unbiased part…

You, my spiffing young fellow, and your team did not realize the effects of the merciless hammering that you gave our cricketers when they were guests in your country. To biff them once in the backside is something that could be overlooked as harmless banter to ease the situation. But to repeatedly smite their tooshies till they turned as red as Turkish tomatoes was something unacceptable. If the treatment were indeed in any way worse, I am sure Sharad Pawar would have been consulting the Defence Ministry for armed support to our poor cricketers who suffered grave war-injuries at your hands. We Indians are gentle by nature. You might have experienced an exemplification of this nature of ours when we accepted the appalling treatment meted out to us with Gandhian calmness and Rahul Gandhian stupidity. But you should have known that even a stomped cockroach finally emits a stench (I don’t know why I said that but it does sound relevant.) So now you are bearing the consequences of your inhuman activities during the English Summer. Ok, let’s move on to your Batting, shall we? 

You are a corking young fellow who thinks he has mastered the art of holding the bat at that exact position where the ball cannot miss it. But this scheme seems to be working for you only in England. Have you ever sat down to think about why your bat fails you whenever you are in India? Do you know the history of the Indian Tantrics? Need I say more?

Well, just because you made merry in your home country against a bowling attack consisting of a pot-bellied kid out of slumber, two youngsters who misunderstood the wood they needed to be aiming at and a Punjabi police constable who was a fierce, self-delusional off-spinner, you think you are a choco-chip off the old ‘Cook’ie? Well, you did not play real cricket my dear fellow. Tell me, how many IPL matches have you played? Well, have you played at least a CL T20 match? Ok, have you AT LEAST played in the Karnataka Premier League?? And you call yourself a complete batsman!! Tell me my man, would any of the IPL teams even consider including you in their scheme of things? Even the terminated Kochi Tuskers will have second thoughts about you. And the new teams proposed for IPL 2015 – the Kozhikode Kozhaputtus and Madurai marikozhundus- will select you only over the dead body of Ramesh Powar (If you have seen him you will know what a laborious task that will eventually be). Hence, I would suggest that you spend some fruitful hours with the likes of Suresh Raina and Virat Kohli so that there are at least some positives for you during this tour. These experienced batsmen have played all forms of the game all over the world. They have played the IPL, the CL T20 and…of course, Tests and ODIs in India. That about sums up all of international cricket does it not? While you keep bragging about being a boss in your backyard, these people have actually been there and done that.

Now, coming to this business of 'The Whitewash', Frankly, I was amazed by your people ranting on about the complete whitewash handed out to us when we were there. I know you people have an affinity towards the fair colour but this is bordering on senility. Well, now you have got an appropriate response haven’t you? You might argue that there are still two matches to go of which you might end up winning one or both. But please understand that we Indians always leave out a spot or a smudge in our Whitewashes. So, effectively, the whitewash is already done and we are thinking about whether it will be a spotless one or not.

So sweet cookie, I hope you have learnt from your mistakes and understood the true meaning of a very famous Hindi phrase which was shouted out by all of us in India, after you embarrassed your guests of honour. Keeping that in mind make sure you let us win some matches the next time we are there or prepare to hear us shout out, once again, ‘Idhar Aao’!