Lame-rick on TN politics

Now cooking in TN politics, a slow burning thriller

Long dead the leader, who was the state's pillar

Along came an amiable person,

That may stand the test of reason

Alas, it turns out, he may be only a filler.

Excuse this indulgence; I promise I won't do this often. 

You're welcome. 

RIP Nirmal Shekar

I'm shocked that Nirmal Shekar is no more. With his passing, a part of the sports experience has been blown out.

Blessed with the talents to bring a match back to life and etch it deeper in one's memory for the ages, Nirmal held court the day after the curtains came down on a grand slam event; his prose just as smooth as a Federer backhand and as moving as an Arantxa win.  

Grass - Federer
Clay - Nadal
Turf - Djokovic
Paper - Nirmal Shekar

Adios Nirmal. 

Jallikkattu protests - My observations Part II

Yes, I have been surfing the news rather actively and here are some more observations in no particular order.

Short name Suppi Sir...

The protests are for ensuring respect to Tamil sentiments. But ironically, almost all of the protesters find themselves unable to frame a complete sentence in even reasonably good Tamil. Even allowing for camera nervousness and being in an emotionally agitated state, the health of spoken Tamil today in Tamilnadu needs some immediate care. And sadly this includes most of the press folks covering this. Tamil identity begins with speaking the language properly.

Saved by the bull

The Mannargudi mafia must be secretly thanking the stars for the relief that this protest has given them from the focus of the public and media. Gone are the pesky niece Deepa and the persistent advocate Krishnamoorthy from the limelight. But they also got one more validation of where Chinnamma stands in the public view: down in the gutters.

Vaai-la vasamba vechchu thekka

The tame rookies mutter the rather meek, less adventurous "jallicut". The grizzled veterans who have seen them all feel emboldened to attempt with Jallikkattoo, jallikkattuh, jallikatta. And the name of Alanganallur rolling off the Hindi tongues looks like a jallikkattu bull had viciously trampled it. Visu is a visionary who wrote "thamizhan thamizhana irukkanam, telungan telungana irukkanam"

India Today

In what can be called a tight slap across the face of PETA, India Today in its coverage of the jallikkattu protests ran a split screen ad of, get this, "Salman at 51 - being bad to being human." Yes, the black buck committed suicide.

Jallikkattu protests - My observations

Jallikkattu has traditionally been confined to the fringes of the collective conscience of the urban middle class. An annual event that happened in the rural areas while the urbanites watched TV while the calorie-rich pongal was digested. A distant, faraway phenomenon that was reduced to a few clips on the evening news. This could have continued to be so had it not been for the ban that brought jallikkattu into the living rooms of every household over the recent years.

Protection of native breeds. The PETA-jersey breed nexus. Benefits of A2 milk. There are many reasons - some less vague than the others - to ensure that the tradition of jallikkattu continues. But beyond the merits of these reasons, there is a more fundamental reason to protest: not allow someone sitting in Delhi to dictate how we should live our lives. People that aren't intimately familiar with the cultural and social mores of Tamilnadu should not meddle in our affairs.

A lady on Rajdeep Sardesai's TV show, appearing in her capacity as an "animal rights activist", declared that "jallikkat" has not been part of Tamil culture and that PETA wasn't calling for a ban on Pongal altogether. This mixture of ignorance and arrogance on the part of the North Indians - till recently quite liberal while using Madarasi - will leave the bristling Tamils feeling violated. It is not the right thing to say but Kashmir may not be the first state to leave the Indian union.

This started when sambhar became samburr, the dosai became dosaw and the vadai vadaw. Then the "ji" has started raising its ugly head as an honorific in Chennai today. But when rank outsiders start making rules on how we live our lives or cherry pick from our traditional practices ones deemed suitable for this day and age, we must say with all love and respect, "Abey, f*** off hain!"

My stand

Jallikkattu must happen. This year. And beyond. With regulations (enforced by authorities concerned) that shall put to rest any genuine concerns relating to the welfare of the bulls. I don't claim to be someone familiar with rural traditions and my stand is solely based upon the bits and pieces of information (of varying trustworthiness) that I have come across over the past few days.

North Indian media

The one favor North Indian media can do is to stop their coverage of this issue immediately. More than anything else to stop exposing their complete ignorance of all things Tamilnadu and the lack of their sensibility. Go cover the UP elections, Dangal box-office collections or Arvind Kejriwal's latest meltdown instead.

The BJP fiasco

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction where Samuel Jackson is cleaning up the car after John Travolta shoots someone in the face. The BJP at the moment looks like Samuel Jackson doing "brain detail" after the Congress and DMK had caused this carnage in the first place. Between the lack of clear intent from Delhi and Subramanian Swamy's choice of words, the BJP has simply failed to seize the situation and control the narrative. They could have use this opportunity to gain a political foothold, however slender, but today stand cast as the villains instead. The AIADMK should perhaps sew C K Saraswathy's lips shut.

The Gounder-man rocks!

The quotient of nakkal-filled humor and biting satire packed into the slogans, memes and props leaves me with little doubt that a similar protest elsewhere in India would have been much less colorful. The mixture reference simply stole the show. It would be unethical to not pay our respects to Goundamani.

Chennai's Woodstock

There is something different about watching a movement grow and sustain itself without political or cinema support. I'm suspicious of anything involving the nadigar sangam and the usual suspects on the basis that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. That this group is so far free of cinema-kaarans lends it more credibility. A salute to the crowd for not doing the Northie-style candle light vigils.

When the lion(ess) is away...

...the mice come out and **** themselves. I first became aware of this expression in my first few months of entering the working world. As the protest continues on for a fourth day, I couldn't help but wonder if a protest of this scale would have happened had Jayalalitha been alive. Especially when I saw the occasional poster or two of LTTE Prabhakaran popping up.

A roundup of 2016 cricket

Hello and wishing you a happy new year 2017!

What better way to ring in a new year than to ramble about cricket from the year just gone by? Here are some notes about what I liked from the world of test cricket from the second half (or last quarter?) of 2016.

------------

As a cricket fan, the past few months have been embarrassingly rich. A veritable buffet of fine games, emerging heroes, exciting finishes and pleasant upsets. One couldn’t really ask for more; although waking up early (or staying up late) to take in the entertainment was certainly not easy.

As an Indian cricket fan, the India New Zealand series was a good appetizer. But the only lowlight of the series was the toss. The win toss-bat first-win formula did take away a bit of sheen off the 3-0 score line. Although I would say that the series itself was well contested, India was never found fighting to save a match. Cricket is the only game that throws up an “intense, nail-biting draw” and the lack of a fighting session where a team hangs on by their nails was a bit disappointing. And the unease that grips a fan that the pundits of the cricketing world will write this off as another dust bowl triumph even before, ahem, the dust had settled doesn’t help one bit.

The series that really set the tone was, of course, the 3-0 romp of South Africa against Australia. Any team that can compete on an equal footing against Australia – forget winning – in their own backyard deserves respects. But a visiting team tearing them Aussies a new one down under isn’t something that people of a certain age remember since the marauding buccaneers roamed the cricketing world. That the Springboks did this without the services of AB D and losing Dale Steyn dramatically midway through the first test sweetens the deal further. A victory at either MCG or the Gabba would have been nicer but I’ll take the 2-1 result as such. Take a bow guys.  And that Bavuma-Warner run out??

And when you thought that things couldn’t be any more acceptable came the 1-1 surprise in Bangladesh. The B’s producing limited over victories are no longer termed upsets. They are quietly shedding their “giant killers” tag, routinely snatching a victory here and giving a scare there. I’m not calling those a fluke but test cricket is certainly a sterner examination. A test victory cannot be achieved by merely lady luck flashing her smile at you – she better be wearing a toothy grin over many days. That B’desh managed to pull off a victory against a top tier test team right after a defeat is truly commendable. I was particularly impressed by Mehedi Hasan who proved to be a handful to the touring Englishmen.

The five tests against England set many things right for the Indian fan. First, some revenge (even if served cold) for the 3-1 drubbing in 2014. Second, I don’t know if Kohli had done something to upset them, but the Gods of the toss world finally decided to favor the visitors. So India winning the tests after losing multiple tosses took away that element of “what-if” from the equation (a.k.a one excuse less). In the end it was a great contest between bat and ball. So what if the bat was in Kohli’s hands and the cherry in Ashwin’s? The positives for India were many. The Kohli-Ashwin form, the lower order chipping in with runs, the Dravid-Kumble conduit to identify and blood the right talent from domestic circuit and the problem of excess be it openers (Vijay, Rahul, Parthiv, Gautham and err…Rohit Sharma) keepers (Saha, Parthiv) or spinners (Ashwin, Jadeja and Mishra – all three of them staking a deserved claim for all-rounder). I was super elated by Karun’s knock more for the sweep shots than the big score he piled up. Indian batsmen using their feet against spin is a common sight, less so the sweep shot. To see an Indian bat sweeping fluently was a sight to behold. On the same note, these are early days and sterner tests lie ahead. Good luck young man! The only two points of concern for India would be Ashwin’s ability to be among wickets abroad and our batting unit’s performance against the short/moving ball. I read somewhere that Kohli was considering a county stint ahead of a tour of the UK: professionalism flows forth from the captain! P.S: Kudos to the TNCA for getting the Chepauk stadium match ready after the fury of Varda.

The best fare, however, was reserved for the very last few days of the calendar. The first test between Australia and Pakistan in Brisbane will be recorded in history as having been won by Australia. But the drama that it provided, particularly on day five, was something that the people that watched it unfold will not forget any time soon. Call it the magic of test cricket or a virulent hatred for Aussie cricket, but I was robustly rooting for Pakistan for two full days. Ending up 40 short in a valiant chase of 490 on day five at the Gabba somehow summarizes Paksitan better than any length of prose or any set of statistics. And following up that performance (and cricketing world’s brownie points) with a good old collapse on day five of the Boxing day test? Pakistan’s brand of cricket has changed very little over the years. 

RIP Amma

Sad. I felt sad. There is still a ball of grief in the stomach. I welled up as it sunk in. And I hadn’t even voted for her. Ever.

I can now understand the emotions of the real supporters and followers. The outpouring of grief is genuine. A state stands bereaved and it shows.

Gutsy, stubborn and bold. Flawed, corrupt but bold. Easily the best choice for an administrator by a mile. A leader – in every sense of that word – that could strike an emotional chord with people in an age of elevated awareness, access to information and endless scrutiny. Mark my words: Karunanidhi's death, when it eventually happens, will be a mere foot note. 

The last of the charismatic leaders of Tamil Nadu is now no more, leaving a party and a state at the crossroads. 

I’m sad. RIP.

No riots, no disruptions, no mobs and no violence. Raw emotions, immense grief but peaceful all the same. #Tamil pride

My thoughts on demonetization

Much like the Trump election, it was predicted that the sky would come falling down. But it has come to pass that the sun rose the next day and people went about their lives. The announcement by Prime Minister Narendra Modi to ban the 1000 and 500 rupee notes has left his political opponents frothing at their mouths, caused an exponential increase in the number of economic experts in the social media universe and has generally shaken up the system in a way not seen in the past.

Here is my attempt at making sense of the move as a non-economist and also to try and decode the reactions ranging from the frivolous to the baseless.  

First off, I write this sitting all the way across the globe having faced very minimal personal or direct impact by the decision. I didn’t have to stand in queues of any length to withdraw my money. And I have exactly one each of a thousand rupee note and a 500 rupee note - taxi fare on my next trip to India from my father – that shall now become nifty souvenirs. But of course I have been reading up on the announcement, its fall out and yes, my father has been in queues to withdraw money from the bank in India with the rest of the population.

One suspects that this announcement is rather the culmination of a sequence of planned initiatives than a knee jerk decision. The support to the aadhar card program, the jan dhan accounts and the voluntary disclosure scheme seem to support this. Yet when the announcement came, it did catch the nation by surprise. One has to admit that this government means business: there is not only intent but complementary actions to go along.

This move, bold as it may be, will not be able to bring back the black money – in other currencies – stashed away in faraway countries. Nor can it go after ill wealth stored in the form of gold, securities or real estate. And to state the obvious, this shall not rid the nation of all forms of corruption. In fact, I would go so far as to say that all the money in the mattresses may have been “converted” by some means or the other by now for say, a 20-30% commission. Indians are nothing if we aren’t crafty. Corruption will continue at the same rate/speed as before in new currency notes. And a less-cash society remains far away as a reality.

But, all things considered, I don’t think this was ever touted as a cure-all magic pill nor are we watching a Shankar movie here. When one sees it for what it is, demonetization is a first step in the right direction to go after the massive, parallel cash economy. The message is loud and clear: it will not be business as usual anymore. A system reset is perhaps not a bad idea and the prime minister has provided just that. The attempt to bring more sections of the population into the banking fold – an inevitable outcome - is an ambitious step to bring more accountability and even safety to the proceedings. E-rural banking could be the next big thing after bijli, sadak and paani. Improved tax compliance is perhaps another benefit we can expect once the dust settles. And if there is a certain measure of deterrence (conspicuously absent thus far) introduced, I would call it a small victory. There must now be at least a modicum of uncertainty in the minds of the corrupt who will have to be more cautious henceforth.

I shall readily admit that I’m not an economist and hence I won’t try to sound intelligent about the short/long term impacts of demonetization on the economy or its individual segments. Instead, I would like to put down my thoughts on the reactions to the initiative here in the blog.

Hardship to the common man. This seems to be the most popular political response with a few leaders (“The usual suspects”) espousing the cause of the common man with a new zeal rarely seen in the recent past. I didn’t get to talk to the average person on the street caught in the throes of the announcement. But catching up on snippets of media reports gives me the feeling that perhaps there is more acceptance (even if reluctant) than vehement opposition amongst the people. The netas, without fail, continue to under estimate the intelligence of the population. After all, old habits die hard.

Narendra Modi tipped off is friends. Though clichéd, any politician worth his salt will have to indulge in slander. Politics corrupts. The question is how much rather than if. And Prime Minister Narendra Modi is no exception. There have been whispers, insinuations and innuendos galore of Modi tipping off his inner circle. And I’m sure the accusers have evidence strong enough to stand in a court of law and bring an errant PM to justice. In fact, I wish someone does a Subramanian Swamy on the present government and brings to light this alleged tip-off scam. But the gut feeling is that these are mere desperate accusations aimed at gaining non-existent political mileage. Not only are any of the accusers clean themselves but neither do they have the stomach for a legal battle. In the end, a lot of hollow words thrown around.

Organized loot. When the silent one spoke, people would actually listen. But enough about the nineties. When Dr. Manmohan Singh denounced the demonetization drive in scathing words, I could only shake my head in pity. Having already fallen from grace, the noted economist has picked himself up, dusted and flung himself back down again. While he was the silent sentinel when the nation was being serial scammed by his cabinet colleagues, he has suddenly decided to become vocal. A ventriloquist’s puppet can be vocal but his words are rarely sensible and never his own. Although it is quite alright for the economist in him to be vocally critical about the move, he has offered very little constructive feedback or alternatives. It is sad that he chose to wear the ill-fitting politician’s hat instead of the economist’s. Loyalty to the Gandhi clan above everything else. And hey, in the long run we’re all dead, right?

The execution was bad. To quote Manmohan Singh, "monumental mismanagement". One has to agree that the way in which this was carried out could have been handled better. But demonetization, much like surgical strikes, can only be effective when carried out swiftly and silently. Given the nature and scale of this operation, a certain level of chaos could not have been avoided without compromising the secrecy of the plan itself. Planning ahead could have been a give away for the people in the know. Honest folks were troubled and subject to inconveniences and annoyances no doubt, but on the same token, people are aware that sometimes you cut a finger to save an arm. Besides gas, hospitals and train travel, the government could have allowed people to pay their insurance premiums, phone bills and some such other amenities to ease the situation.

The efficiency of this move to flush out the untaxed cash from the economy can be debatable and so also the execution. But merely questioning the intent, citing the flaws and taking refuge in the common man’s sufferings is predictably banal. The Prime Minister’s chair is full of thorns while the ex-Prime Minister’s is a bed of roses from which taking potshots is not terribly difficult. I have yet to see someone with the right credentials take the demonetization plan apart in a logical manner.

To borrow a popular phrase from the US presidential elections, “draining the black money swamp” is a process. And by all accounts, demonetization appears to be a good first move. At the risk of sounding too optimistic, perhaps there is more coming down the pipeline.

Thoughts on the presidential election 2016

I couldn't help but be reminded of "The Opposite" episode of The Seinfeld show this morning. For your reading pleasure, I submit the one dialog that perhaps captures the verdict most aptly from here.

Jerry: If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right. 

P.S 1: I also urge you to read this post of mine from Nov 2012.

With that out of the way, here are some thoughts on the results of the Presidential election 2016 in no particular order.

People yearning for change and reposing their faith on a complete outsider to shake things up.
A shrewd businessman with zero political baggage and thus free of the handicaps associated with typical politicians.

And although the band of risk around this outsider (the "opposite") was wider, the dividends of a campaign strategy that struck a chord with that often neglected section of the demography - the majority - have just arrived. As they say, look who you called ugly in middle school.

People seeing through the smoke screen and giving a damning verdict on the credibility and trustworthiness of main stream media.

Globalization and world trade are great topics but what matters to most people is the ability to put food on the table everyday. Or at least the hope of being able to do that.

Immigration is a vastly different beast today that can create intense feelings everywhere.

Gender bias is still alive and kicking in the USA, of course. That been said, glass ceilings can (and must) be cracked with merit and performance alone. There are enough examples around the world, not counting the heiresses of political dynasties of South Asia. Another interesting comment that I saw on twitter: America is way more sexist than it is racist. One could ponder about that too.

Victoria: Who are you, George Costanza?
George: I'm the opposite of every guy you met.

It worked out well for George in that episode. The USA will wait and watch the new President.

P.S 2: I don't have a vote in the US. I have been following the campaigns only casually. I am not particularly fond of either candidate. 

Notes from a navaratri trip to Seoul

The hat trick

Three years in a row now, I have played Houdini around Navaratri time. Set up the golu, leave on a trip and return just in time for Vijayadasami (and dismantling); skipping the social aspect of the festival altogether. Oh, and leaving the wife to take care of inviting people over, entertaining and running the show. By herself.

The clash of the calendars

Around September and October is when the Hindu and Jewish calendars are brimming with festivals. Vinayaka chaturthi, Varalakshmi poojai, Navarathri, Vijayadasami on the one hand competing with Rosh Hashannah, Yom Kippur and Co. on the other. Festivals are good especially if you love food. But in the global world we live in, the latter have a stronger branding than the former that leaves guys like me traveling to meet upset customers during golu and whining away in a remote corner of the internet post facto. People, at least the ones I work with, are aware that Americans can’t be asked to travel around Thanksgiving, Chinese folks in February or Jewish people around RH. But sadly even the regulars at Indian lunch buffets don’t seem to be aware of our festivals of which there are many. The solution: I’m pitching Varalakshmi vratam cards, Pillayar chathurthi coconut chocolates and karva chauth dolls to Hallmark! In about a year, America won’t schedule business trips on avani avittam or even start a new project on a prathamai during rahu kalam. You’re welcome!

The ring

No, it is not the scary movie. I’m talking about the hottest accessory that I saw on everyone’s hand in Seoul. And it’s not even wedding season in Korea – although I could be wrong. The ring is attached to the back side of the cell phone and comes in handy for the very purpose these sophisticated phones are built: for taking selfies. Everyone and their mothers had one hanging off their phones. Run your finger through the hole and click away knowing that the phone ain’t falling down. In a way it makes sense that they are “coupled” to their phones by a ring since most of them seem to spend more time on the phone rather than with their BFs/GFs/spouses.

Navaratri at Incheon

So I missed out on homemade sundal. But on the way back, I satisfied my sundal craving in the lounge at Incheon airport. I was sniffing around for vegetarian stuff when a pretty girl of the lounge crew walked up to me and learning my predicament, asked whether I would like to have lentil salad. The dish had not yet been brought out from the kitchen when she handed me a bowl of channa, rajma and black-eyed beans salad and a bottle of tabasco! Kamsahamnida dee kondhe! (Non Koreans and non Tamils excuse!) If only she had started a rendition of a“gaja vadhana…” my Navaratri setting would have been picture (and sound) perfect. 

Open letter to the TSA agent at SFO international

At the outset, thank you for keeping our airports safe. Although the least likeable part of flying is clearing security, I fully realize the reasons behind the hassles. One must grin and bear the long lines and annoyances in the assurance that flying may not be fun but at least safe(r). A sad reflection of the times we live in.

With the politically correct statements out of the way, I do have a problem that I would like to highlight. It is how you insist that I place my shoes in the same tray as my laptop, the bag or the jacket.

On Sunday, at SFO, I placed my laptop, the bag and the contents of my pockets on one tray and my shoes on an adjacent one on the security scan conveyor belt. For no apparent reason, you walked up to me, picked up my shoes and deposited them right on top of my laptop. When I protested, your response was “No shoes in a tray.” I will not waste my time looking for meaning in that half-brained response. And to clarify, there were enough trays around that day for everyone to use separate ones for their left and right shoes. 

You left me with no option but to defy you and put them back in a separate tray: the way they were before you monkeyed with it. And when you tried to put them back on the same tray, I had to tell you firmly and loudly that I will not place my shoes on my laptop before you went away. Yes, words not fit to be reproduced here were muttered under the breath, dirty looks exchanged but I had to do what I felt was the right thing. I’ll put up with shit to ensure passenger safety but complying with some random security agent’s whims is where I shall draw the line.

You see, I come from a culture that places learning and the associated tools on a deservedly high pedestal. We have a god for learning, of course, and incidentally, the day to pay respects to that deity is just around the corner. And we leave our footwear outside before entering our homes. And if by accident we step on even a scrap piece of paper, we were taught to apologize for it. That's right. However, I don’t write this with an intention to preach about Hindu and Indian sensibilities concerning not mixing books and footwear.

The laptop is, among other things, an integral tool of my trade and placing my footwear on top of it goes beyond religious or cultural mores: it is downright unhygienic. Commonsense 101. But to quote my father, these are things that no school teaches. One’s got to pick them up on his own. It is not a crime to be from a culture where footwear inside the house or medicines in the toilet is acceptable. Perhaps you have better immunity for all I know. But the next time you see someone place their shoes in a separate tray, just leave them alone. Believe me, that does not endanger the safety of passengers or airplanes in any way. 

Indian cricket season 2016-17

I’m excited about the start of the long season ahead for cricket India. 13 home tests including the landmark 500^th  for India promises good cricket based on the current team and their potential.

I like test cricket over the other formats. There is something about the whites, the blue cap, the red ball and the potential for a slow burner over five days. Sure I enjoy my cricket in colored clothes but the lure of the test is simply too strong.

I’m sure there were great wins and closely fought tests earlier too but in my eyes India in test cricket rounded a corner around the turn of this century under Sourav Ganguly. This format of the game has simply been re imagined, if that is the word. This turnaround has been made possible by a core of great players. And their biggest contribution yet is how they have inspired the current crop of not only players but also fans. And continue to be associated with the game in various roles. 

Update: I must learn to count to eleven. Perhaps from my kid. Updating the list to include eleven players instead of the original ten I had smartly come up with.

I haven’t followed cricket closely for some time now, but from my gut, this could be the best XI from the squad:

Openers: Murali Vijay and KL Rahul (I think the Shikar Dhawan experiment has run its full course after the poor man's Sehwag shine has all but worn off)

Middle order: Cheteshwar Pujara, V Kohli and A Rahane

WK: Saha

Pace: Ishant and M Shami or Buvi (It is a close call between Shami and Buvi while Umesh is still a work in progress in my eyes)

Spinners: Ashwin and Mishra or Jadeja (Somehow Mishra seems a better choice over Jadeja for his consistency and decent batting performances.)

Water: colorless, odorless but combustible

The seasonal problem of water shortage raises its ugly head again. Governments and authorities concerned caught napping yet again. Law and order on either side of the issue made a mockery of and engineered and orchestrated violence allowed to turn daily lives of people upside down. Idiots and their idiocy, again on both sides, magnified by an enthusiastic media. Insecure chauvinists turning violent, police forces turning a blind eye, colluding politicians fanning the fire and Chief Ministers that trade letters as cities burn. Same story, same rhetoric, only a different year. And the farmer – the direct worst-hit victim – whose image has been coopted by the hooligans, has been reduced to a mute spectator.

The sad truth is that the river, water shortage, sharing plans are mere excuses. The violence has two drivers not connected to water. One is of course politics. In the world of politicians, the problem life cycle is only a straight line that slowly twists itself into a pretzel. Given that elections in Karnataka are due next year, they are scrambling to milk any vote-ensuring topic dry. Congress, or what remains of it, would naturally want to make the right noises for they know that this is their last chance to retain power. Allowing their foot soldiers the opportunity to settle scores and personal vendetta is a nice pre-season gift to galvanize the cadres. For the BJP, it is electoral compulsions too. Karnataka is the only foothold in the non-Hindi speaking belt and they would naturally prefer to be perceived as pro-Karnataka rather than as sensible. Even a Narendra Modi going on a door-to-door campaign won’t fetch them a single seat in the *.MK world of Tamil Nadu politics and they know it too well. The Hon’ble Prime Minister – and I’m still his fan – will do nothing more than pay lip service and give the usual and predictable sound bytes.

The second reason is that this is an opportunity for the chauvinistic ‘Digas to give vent to pent up deep seated emotional frustrations and insecurities. The link between what has happened/is happening and the release of water is only tenuous at best. The average, homegrown hooligan (no way connected to agriculture, mind you) in Bangalore busy setting buses on fire or thrashing Tamils for perceived slights can barely tell tmc from cusecs or who is in the CWDT. Bangalore, thanks to the I.T storm, has been yanked away from under the feet of the “natives”. The initial real estate boom and the infrastructure dreams have long gone bad. What started off with all the trappings of a pleasant honeymoon has soured into a bad orgy. At the heart of the matter, they are upset at having been “usurped” from their Kannada bhoomi by the marauding hordes of laptop bearing prospectors that are indifferent to local sensibilities. Time then to dust off Kannada Mata, raise the “Kaveri belongs to Karnataka” slogans, wave the flags of no-name Vedikes and two-bit thugs getting their fifteen minutes of time in the spotlight. If only forcing Accenture staff out of their offices could magically produce rain or reverse Supreme Court pronouncements!

Any number of tribunals can be set up and many expert groups be put in place. Governments on either side can come and go and verdicts can be issued and re-issued by the highest courts of the land. But make no mistake, there will be no solution in my lifetime or yours. The reasons behind this problem are many – growing demand, poor planning, woeful execution of those plans, deforestation and, of course, topped by human greed. Thus developing an amicable solution lies in that space between possibility and dreams. Reorganizing the states (anyone remember C Rajagopalachari?) can be a way forward but anyone suggesting that today will be laughed out. And a national policy on sharing natural resources remains nothing more than a topic for passionate debate. But hey, if noses can be upped at Supreme Court rulings, a national policy will not be worth the paper it is written on.

There is also a great political risk involved in solving this (or any) problem. Any solution could possibly limit otherwise useful political careers. And there are smart stakeholders on either side with a lot riding on keeping this issue festering.  In other words, our grand kids can look forward to unexpected days of school closure.

That leaves you and me - the "common men" - to make sure that we are responsible on social media, use water wisely (rains or no rains) and caste that vote without in the next elections. 

In the meantime, the river trickles sedately, perhaps secretly laughing at the foolishness being perpetrated in its name. And the farmers - Kannada and Tamil - sit silently staring at the skies. Sorrow, their common language. 

India at the Olympics

Two medals. Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? No.

Time to close our rather bare medals cupboard with a sigh and move on (to cricket). And start writing pieces complaining about the lack of infrastructure, official apathy, cultural/social/gender biases that plague our “system” to feel better at having done something even if inconsequential. Another four years before we feel disappointed by our show in Tokyo. Rinse and repeat.

We must acknowledge that it is a really constricted pipeline that supplies sportspersons in India. “Sachin duck adichaalum avanukku sambalam undu; ana nee noothukku noothi pathu mark vaanganam” (Sachin gets paid even if he gets out for a duck but you must score 110 out of 100) was an oft repeated reminder around our house during the 90s during most ODIs. The emphasis, always, is either on education OR on earning. For the vast majority, sports can, at best, be a hobby; not an avocation.

The enthusiasm to come up with quick fixes is completely understandable. “Catch them young” is a popular one. Give eminent sports persons the authority is another. Educational institutions at all levels should give sports more importance; corporate involvement; people’s mindset…the list goes on. Sadly, there are no solutions readily available today to help us leapfrog to a better position on the medals table. There are many basic issues that will need to be addressed in tandem with higher level sporting requirements to give ourselves a better chance come 2024 and beyond.

To state the blindingly obvious, the majority of the middle class will (should I say rightfully?) always perform the risk-rewards analysis and place an emphasis on academic pursuits over athletic aspirations. Just like for the armed forces, there is the collective thinking that there are “others” that will rise up to the call for sporting heroes. The marginalized folks perhaps view a strong body, fast legs and stamina as little more than a good earning tool. It is difficult to think beyond immediate, unmet needs. And the honest truth is that for every Sachin Tendulkar or a P V Sindhu in the limelight, there are hundreds of thousands that have fallen by the wayside without a security net. However, if we could take sports - region and occupation specific - to the outer fringes of the country and society – both literally and figuratively – we could certainly unearth riches. How many times we have read about the “traveled 50kms one way by bus to play” of any athlete? 

Cast a wide net. Promoting active participation in a wide variety of sports rather than pursuing a full-fledged career in one is perhaps a good first step we could take. But when can that happen? I’m not talking air conditioned, indoor facilities. I’m talking about a clean pavement that will let someone take a jog or even a walk around the block, some green cover on the local sports fields (even if only seasonally) and improve basic amenities around existing facilities (security, lighting, parking, etc.).

Health is wealth. Limit access to tobacco, alcohol and drugs to youth. Easier said than done, one must admit. But putting in place tighter penalties (for sellers and users) and incentivizing cleaner habits can help improve the quality of the population overall.

Security. A soccer player or a hockey player in India will hone his skills knowing pretty well that he will never be able to aspire for the riches of our cricketers. Add to that the risk of injury and the playing careers of non-mainstream (read non-cricket) sports can be easily a non-starter. Avenues for better earning, access to quality sports medicine specialists and the ability to make a decent career in sports after one’s active years are possible motivators.

The education system should take a more forgiving look at sports aspirants. Rigid structures, do-or-die exam systems and (mostly) indifferent staff make it an either-or choice between academics and sports. And given the pressures of typical middle class society, it is a no-brainer that someone would pick academics.

If specialty sporting centers with experts can exist on top of these basic changes, there can be hope in the mid to long future. A rich medal tally is a powerful statement in soft power and helps with branding India on a global forum. With its medal haul at every global sporting event, China, warts and all, only enhances its image as a powerful nation. And a good show will also help tone down page-3 folks like Piers Morgan and Shobhaa De taking potshots at our athletes. 

The trailblazer from Tripura

Dipa Karmakar, the vault, the Produnova and Tripura.

Each word in the above sentence is stranger than the one before it. And that tells on most of us as a nation. I cringed when I typed them; guilty when I googled some. The Produnova, the risk it comes laced with, the grit, determination and sweat behind attempting it, leave alone perfecting.

As a nation of sports fans, we have always remembered numbers. The 10-jersey. We remember the 134 and the 143 from a dusty night in the Arab peninsula from many years ago. We remember the Eden 281 and its significance, the 10/74 wizardry in Delhi, 183 and 145 from Taunton on a grey summer English day from many years ago. Also remembered are a 114 from Perth, a 167 in Sydney. And the 183 in Lord’s. 25 June 1983. 02 April 2011. 100 100s, 6 x 6…numbers held close to our heart.

We have also built and followed a strict hierarchy. Cricket came first, second and third. Headingley, Wanderers and 'Gabba rolled off our tongues just as easily as Eden Gardens, Chepauk and Wankhede did. Durban and the "Green Mamba" and how Adelaide supported spin better than Perth is general knowledge. Space was made for the cricket world Cup, IPL and the Border-Gavaskar trophy on our calendars. And EPL, Euro, Wimbledon, the French Open, etc. filled the gaps.

So many special numbers, places and routines that have meant so much to all of us down the ages. So much that little else has mattered all along. Little else allowed to exist by our collective “sporting” conscience.

Thank you Dipa for giving us a new set of numbers to remember. A new set of numbers to be proud about. New places and people that we must look for and look after. 

15.066 – a number that will now be etched in our sporting memory.

0.15 – the whisker by which a slice of history could have been hers. And ours. 

4 – Fourth best in the world. Not a missed medal.

14-8-2016 – The day when a little known girl from a little known place overcame the tyrannies of distance, barriers of prejudice, inadequacies in infrastructure and the cold indifference of a nation.

1 – One more national icon to be proud of. One more sport to follow and accommodate in our packed sport (watching only) calendar.

Agartala – Sporting hinterland no more. It may not have an IPL franchise but it is just as much a part of us as Mohali, Kolkata or Hyderabad.

Rio de Janeiro – The place where we have been woken awake.

I was following the updates and watched only the deferred telecast later that night. But in the moments that she defied gravity and soared in the air, I felt that the 70^th Independence day had arrived a day earlier.

Dipa did not lose a medal; she may have actually lit a spark. She didn’t lose a spot on the podium; she has captured many hearts. She should be proud of a performance that forces us to take cognizance of the big world beyond the boundary ropes.

Thank you darling!

The two faced sea

The sea is a constant presence in the Tel Aviv city life. From Jaffa port in the South to the mouth of the Yarkon river in the North and beyond, the beach frames the West side of the city.  Most of the big city hotels are along the waterfront, affording the guests with stunning views. As I have mentioned earlier, I hardly get to enjoy the beach or even the views as I usually don’t return in time to catch a brilliant sunset. But the sea does make its presence felt – sunset or not – whenever you catch a glimpse through the windows.

During weekends it is a happy scene with a riot of fun activities when families flock to the beach to cool off in the water. In the mornings and evenings on all days, the athletically minded make the most of the uninterrupted promenade to quietly pack in some exercise. The warm waters and the white sand offer a fun venue for an entire population to unwind and forget life’s grind. The old, the young, the healthy, the infirm, men, women – all of them turn up in good numbers to unwind and paint a picture of joy and delight. To them, the Mediterranean is that old aunt whose home provides fun, succor and recharge to anyone that enters.

Looking out over the beauty of the calm, blue waters, one would find it difficult to picture the grief and sorrow that unfolds across the sea; people dying every day in unbelievable numbers while trying to cross the Mediterranean. Populations fleeing the violence of their homelands. Man-made conflict – religious, social and economic – driving them to seek refuge elsewhere along unwelcoming yet peaceful shores. Life or the lack of it forcing them on a perilous journey that could take them away from their past and towards an uncertain future. Placing their trust and life savings on the hands of ruthless operatives and setting sail on fragile vessels. The voyage across turquoise waters that often ends in watery graves for the tormented travelers. The Mediterranean becomes the bar where people drown themselves attempting to drown their sorrows. Or looked at differently, perhaps deliverance from their sufferings?

One sea, one water but the opposite shores paint two starkly different pictures. And yet the sunsets are just as brilliant every evening. On both shores, I’m sure. 

Stand up comedy roundup

Of late, I’m into stand up comedy. No, I’m not trying my hand at it – God knows that I’m ill equipped to regale an audience. So relax. I meant to say that I have been listening to/watching stand up comedy of various artists on YouTube – that fountainhead of mobile entertainment. I have a long commute and my choice of en route entertainment these days is stand up comedy on the way back home. On the mornings, it is still NPR and Mr. Ilayaraja.

As an art form, I suppose stand up comedy isn’t all that different from the other performing arts. You write material, practice, perform and improve enough over time to make a name for yourself. But unlike singing or dancing, which require years of rigorous and formal training to polish the skills, stand up comedy is largely self-honed. There are no schools or proving grounds, traditions to adhere to or grammar to stick to. The comedian is pretty much his own guru and there are no exams to certify one’s worth. Similarly there are no props to lean on or even hide behind – music, musicians or fellow performers. There is the performer, a microphone and the waiting audience and their appreciation the only scale to calibrate one against.

The comedian’s task is further more challenging because many in the audience think of themselves as being humorous. Not everyone that walks into an Aruna Sairam concert, for instance, fancies themselves as singers or are trained in classical music for years. But every John Doe out there can crack a good joke once in a while. So to provide a fresh perspective on everyday stuff and to bring a sense of novelty to things and experiences that almost everybody in the audience is aware of is a tough ask in my eyes. Choosing a profession fraught with these kinds of hazards is a big decision. Thus my healthy respect for their tribe.

I don’t mind mild (what is mild?) racial or ethnic jokes that play on stereotypes and a casual swear word thrown in here and there doesn’t turn me off either. So I find someone like Russell Peters funny. But I see some guys over using foul language as a comedic tool which doesn’t suit my taste. And for this exact reason, I have growing respect for the ones with squeaky clean content that you can watch with your kids.

There aren’t clear favorites yet as I’m still sampling the fare out there. But I’m beginning to like the work of Louis CK, Jim Gaffigan, Brian Regan from the US and Craig Ferguson and David Allen from the United Kingdom. And much like suffering poets being more profound, I find that guys with a difficult past (based on a few interviews) tend to come up with the better stuff.

A few friends recommended some Indian standup comedy acts in English and somehow I haven’t been able to savor the stuff that I have come across thus far. The comedians adopt English to cater to a wider, pan-Indian audience which is understandable. But therein lies the problem. In my opinion, English simply kills the comedic potential of content that can be better exploited in native languages. And dare I say, stand up comedy in India is still young and needs to evolve a bit – both among the performers and audiences.

Perhaps it is a cultural bias but I still prefer Indian comedy packaged as a track in movies or stage dramas. Between Goundamani’s body of work and S Ve Shekar’s and Crazy Mohan’s older dramas there is no gap in my comedy requirements. I also continue to mine the treasures of the Kamal and Crazy Mohan  combination when I need a good laugh or two. Yes, these are all stuff from the past and sadly, I don’t like very much what passes for comedy these days. 

Kabali - the experience

So yes, it is done. The movie has been watched and it is time to spill the guts/pour the heart out here. But before I start, here are some disclosures in no particular order.

      1. I’ve only been a casual Rajini fan (at best), throughout my life. I have never watched any Rajini movie within the first 2 weeks of its release. Except for Endhiran which I watched the day it released. In Singapore. So that doesn’t count.

2    2. I have never watched any of P Ranjith’s other movies. I don’t have a feel for his style, if there exists one.

3    3. I have mere passing knowledge of the situation of Tamils in Malaysia by virtue of having lived in nearby Singapore for a few years and having worked with a few Malaysian Indians.

Warning: Full of spoilers.

The story line has three threads. The plight of Tamil-origin people in Malaysia, a turf war between rival gangs and a man seeking out his long lost family. Rarely have such three strong elements been made available to provide the perfect setting to deliver a masterpiece that would have not only made the fans happy but also enhanced the fading star’s larger than life image. But walking out of the theater, I felt transported back to the night of the 1996 ICC WC semi-final when I watched the favorites flounder on the biggest night on the biggest stage. There was an equal mix of disappointment and sadness not just for the Rajini fan but also the Tamil cinema fan. When you realize that the entire teaser was entirely sourced from within the first 15 minutes of the movie, you know you have been done in.

The first question that springs to mind is what did Ranjith want to convey? Was this a clear political movie with a strong pro-Dalit message? No. That would have called for a more nuanced handling of the plight of the Tamils in Malaysia rather than the cursory, episodic portrayals seen here topped off with jarring one liners with political innuendoes inserted here and there. Was this then a full-fledged mafia movie about an ageing don ascending to his rightful place on the throne? Hell no. This was a mish mash of poorly choreographed fight scenes thrown in pretty much at random. Did he want to at least explore the tender side of a once-violent don in search of familial love? Again, this aspect was not fully exploited and came across as under cooked.

Ranjith, I suppose, wanted to convey a strong pro-Dalit message using Rajini as a vehicle. He couldn’t have set the story as happening in Tamilnadu for the obvious reason that Rajini’s fan base cuts across all castes. So he had to move it to Malaysia to be politically correct. But he dare not talk anything against the current political dispensation there (or the Bhumiputra policy) without setting off a political fire storm. So to avoid that, he travels in time rather conveniently to pick up issues with the the white man. Lo and behold, here is a neat little political plot that upsets none! And he dressed it up with some don drama and a dash of family sentiments. And in the middle of all this juggling, he remembered that this also has to be a Rajini movie after all and hastily tried to throw some core elements in almost as an afterthought. The result is a limp movie that tries to be many things at once but caters to no one’s needs in the end.

A Rajini movie is like an intense religious ceremony and its director the chief priest overseeing the preparations. His familiarity with the plentiful traditions, handed down the ages, is a pre-requisite. And the traditions are to be adhered to at a minimum or organically enhanced, at best. Questioning them or attempting to overturn them is blasphemy But the novice director in his rather careless handling of the script (and the mega star) has betrayed his lack of pedigree resulting in a movie that has little to show for the pre-release hype.

The biggest drawback was the screenplay that was as helpful as a soggy, soiled diaper around a playful baby’s waist. A taut screenplay can partly shoulder the burden of a weak script. But unfortunately this was a double whammy that left many passages of the movie dragging. An electrifying opening and introduction segment was sorely missing. After showing him inside the prison cell, I was left confused: is this it or is there going to be an actual intro? This confusion seems to persist throughout the movie and together with a flimsy story line, leaves many questions unanswered. For instance, how did Rajini transform from a local leader to a gangster and a don? How did he make the money to bank roll his lifestyle especially if he avoids drug trade and flesh trade?

The cast was the second weakest link. With all due respect, who (the f***) is John Vijay? Forcing us to accept him as Rajini’s friend from youth is a slap on our intelligence. The guy looks like an idiot in that wig and is driving Rajini around in a bike. Ranjith, allow me to break this down for you: Rajini does NOT ride pillion. Ever. Period. Moving on, let’s look at memorable villains of the past – Raghuvaran, Ramya Krishnan, Manivannan, Vijayashanthi. In that impressive lineup, this guy from Taiwan is a bad joke. A superhero requires a super villain and he/she was sorely missing from the script. Dhansika as the daughter was a bitter pill to swallow especially when Radhika Apte, playing her aged mom, looks like her class mate from MOP Vaishnava college. Radhika was about the only real actor in the movie. The reunion segment was easily the best in the movie and the “maya nadhi” song showed glimpses of what Rajini the actor is capable of and what we have missed all along. The music is also a big letdown. neruppu da was catchy and maya nadhi, soulful. But the background score was loud and noisy and didn’t liven up things.

The production quality was particularly bad. Whose idea was it to not even grey the aged Radhika's hair? While Rajini had aged, she looks like his elder daughter. Wigs, particularly for the flashback segment looked clumsy. And the set for the climax scene looked like something out of a “Shaktimaan” episode. If a third of the money and focus spent on promotion and marketing had been diverted to the making, this could have come out much more stylish and classier.

That leaves Rajini as the one redeeming feature – standing tall while surrounded by a sea of mediocrity. He tries to carry the entire movie on his frail shoulders but looks hamstrung by the cast, crew and the script. Age, which had begun to show for a few years now, has started seriously encroaching into the persona. The charisma is still there and so is the stylish screen presence but the voice has grown feeble and the body frail. Scenes he could once have chewed up and spat out seem less convincing. And in the hands of a less capable director, he runs the risk of being reduced to a caricature.

Rajini the larger than life super star is at the inevitable crossroads that every ageing star faces. A body of work that he can be proud of lies behind. And still adoring fans surround him. From here on, it is all about the legacy that he chooses to leave behind. He must remind himself that history takes a kinder view of those who leave on a high. Time is not his ally anymore and it is critical that he chooses his script and directors with utmost care. Dalliances with the inexperienced is an adventure that he can ill afford and his fans simply deserve better fare. Else, Padayappa may well become the last real Rajini movie ever made.

Kabali - the noon before

Typing this up a few hours before watching Kabali. It would be a lie to say that I’m not excited. After weeks of watching the trailer/teaser, listening to the songs and staying clear of leaks (alleged opening/intro clip sitting unviewed on whatsapp), scrolling past reviews and opinions of all sorts, even my kid – born after Endhiran came out, to give you some context – is walking around mouthing the dialogs and humming the songs.

I would say that the pre-release promotions for Kabali have been an order of magnitude bigger than any other Rajini movie; bordering on manufactured mass hysteria. Yes, it is good business sense to whip up some excitement even if it is a Rajini movie given the money that gets put in. But this one has gone overboard. The expectations are now set high; time to see if and how the movie lives up to it.

Will blog about the Kabali experience soon! 

Why this kolaveri da?

An unarmed girl hacked to death in broad daylight by a spurned lover stalker. Peeling off one more layer, let’s look a bit at the individuals involved. The victim was employed in a leading software company. The stalker was an engineering drop out with little else going for him besides this one sided amorous pursuit. Her crime? Spurning the advances of a sociopath.

It is a fine line that separates fantasy from reality. And it is a scary thought that the youth of today – not all of them, of course –so easily go astray and cross that line with no thought about the consequences. I’m trying to make sense of what his intentions were in following her. Did he really fancy his chances with her? Assuming for argument’s sake that she had reciprocated his feelings for her, did he ever ponder what then? Remember, she was at the threshold of a career and by all reports, he was already an absolute failure.

From the news reports, it looks that his friends have stoked his desires and he may have been encouraged to pursue her by his peers. The fact that she had not reported him to her dad – for fear of being curtailed I’d imagine rather than out of any romantic interests – have apparently emboldened him. And finally when she had called a spade a spade, he loses the plot and takes it upon himself to teach her a lesson that goes horribly wrong.

Anger from rejection is a natural human emotion. But channelizing that anger to improve oneself is so passé. Teaching a lesson on the other hand – a la Rajinikant the shrew tamer – is cool! I hate to oversimplify this situation and lay the entire blame at the doorstep of Tamil cinema. But it is hard to overlook the role of movies in incidents like these. Do movies reflect society or does society imbibe from cinema is a debate for another day. But it is fair to assume that cinema today has a strong influence on the youth.

Let’s face it. The hero from a humble background winning the hands of the princess is a horse that has been flogged down the ages on celluloid. In earlier times, the hero was unfailingly depicted as a fundamentally good person that rose from the lower rungs of the society and rebelled against the ruling class. The love was (of course) incidental and merely a vehicle to question class distinctions and bring about societal change. The romance, more often than not initiated from the girl's side, was boringly clean and always ended in sweet union. In other words, even a kid knew it was a story. No sane person could identify themselves with any of the onscreen characters. 

Let’s take a look at how the role of the hero has evolved. There was the period that glorified suicides spawned by "love failure". Or giving oneself liver sclerosis when spurned. But today, when movie makers vie with one another to portray "reality", the need to portray positive values has become one of the first victims. Besides the humble background, today's cine male has nothing in common with the ones from the black and white era. He has a highly inflated sense of entitlement and pretty much nothing else. He is a flawed rebel without a cause, qualifications, values or even the looks for that matter. An academic failure? No problem. Completely incompatible with the girl culturally and economically? No problem again. The narrative is one that gives him the entitlement to any girl’s love interest only because he desired so, no matter what. After all, “engala maari pasangala paatha odaney pidikkadhu. Paakka paakka dhaan pidikkum”, right? (Loose translation: we are an acquired taste.)

In this synthetic reality where his shortcomings are his qualifications and greed is a virtue, the lady’s rejection then becomes a classist slap on the face of an entire section of society. Choosing a more compatible guy is casteism masquerading as choice! In other words, the girl (or her family) knows nothing, should have no preferences of her own whatsoever and her choices simply don’t matter. The knight in shining armor – warts and all – shath set everything in order with his love en route to a happily lived ever after. The flawed man’s misplaced desires are here and here to stay.

Cinema has always been guilty of airbrushing reality to reel in audiences but now the consequences are becoming more lethal. Combine that with the sorry fact that strong values are not instilled into youth at every opportunity (family, schools, colleges), girls and their families unjustly bear the burden of a few men getting high on flawed narratives and running amok when hit by reality.

I hate Kamal Hassan the actor and nowadays even the individual. But I remember and like one of his earlier interviews where he advises the audiences to watch a movie strictly for entertainment and brush off its influences as soon as one steps out of the theater. Sounds so right.

Flight 619 cleared for takeoff

The abiding image of Anil Kumble, for me, is the big man standing at the start of his famous run up, giving the old ball in his hand a hard twirl or two on the fourth day of any test match. Intense eyes scanning the field placements, exchanging a word or two with the captain, trousers turning red at the groins and close in fielders preparing to lap up the edge that was always imminent. The venue could be Kanpur or Capetown. India could be winning or gasping to save the test. The pitch could be favoring somebody and the weather somebody else. But you just knew the match would be cracked open no matter what and India would be given at least an outside chance. With his determination and grit as much as with his spin and flight.

As Anil Kumble transitioned from player to administrator after his retirement – a less lucrative path, not often taken – I felt a satisfaction that his services to the game would continue. And as he takes up the reins of the Indian team now, I feel that he will bring his A game to the table just as he had done every time he wore the India cap.

A great player need not necessarily be a great captain or a good coach. And Anil certainly lacks coaching pedigree that Tom Moody has in plenty that could come in handy at this level. But Anil has worn new hats with success before and more importantly, his dedication and sincerity together with his knowledge of the game should stand him in good stead. A belief that is certainly not misplaced in his case.  And given our legacy of weak pace assets, a world class spinner as the head coach can certainly help nourish and develop our spin attack.

Matches will be won and lost; trophies lifted or gifted. But one can rest assured that this team, to borrow his famous words after that ugly Sydney test, will “play the game in the right spirit”, as it should be. The sagely Kumble could be the perfect foil for the aggressive Virat.

As a fan, I’m hooked. Time to sit back and fasten the seat belts as The Jumbo prepares for takeoff. 

P.S: For a India fan from the eighties, this is like a reunion of sorts happening now. Between the cricket advisory committee, the India U-19 coach and now team India head coach, the old boys are back together again!