Bay Area 1170AM Tamil darbar

We were returning from somewhere last Sunday evening. Usually we play the mp3 collection to keep things quiet and friendly during a drive. Side story: although it is filled to the gills with Ilayaraja songs, the first file on this pen drive, for some reason, is the Macarena. And every time we start the engine, the audio system resets to the first song. And since we’ve had this same collection for a very long time now, that song is now firmly tattooed on my kid’s brain. He was singing it aloud when we were at the Niagara Falls last year. Over the din of the falls, a Hispanic family voiced their approval. Oye! Back to the story. I had removed the stick for some reason and had not plugged it back in. So we had to resort to the airwaves for music. My default station is NPR but my son hates it from the bottom of his heart (appa, vera paattu podu, iva pesindey irukka Eng: Dad, play some other song, these people are just talking) So we tuned into 1170AM the desi station in the Bay Area.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, I default to NPR for my short commute and on those rare occasions when I tune into 1170AM, I almost always catch some talk show in Hindi. Given my proficiency in that language, I make a quick exit. But when I travel with the missus, she prefers this station. Talk about timing but we have listened to some Kannada programs and even Telugu programs but nary a bit of Tamil. Last Sunday was one such day where we caught the tail end of a Hindi program followed by a Women’s day Telugu program. Side story: I was surprised at how much Telugu I was actually able to follow. Side story: Four years in a private engineering college have given me only a smattering of engineering concepts but more than a working knowledge of conversational Telugu. Thank you Reddys, Raos, Vamsis, Yelamarthis. Back to the story. There are two things that I have observed in the multiple Telugu and Kannada programs that I have had the opportunity to listen to. The program hosts always speak good quality Telugu and Kannada. Granted there is the English phrase or three thrown in. But for the most part, it is in their language. Second, the hosts have always been coherent and were not hemming and hawing or were lost for words.

Surprisingly, the program that followed the Telugu one last Sunday was Tamil darbar. Yaay, Tamil on radio finally!! It was hosted by a certain Ms. Minmini (Chinna chinna aasai singer?) and a Mr. Baba. The show was about Women in Tamil Cinema. That took some wind out of my sail but I was still pumped. Side story: All Tamil entertainment across all media formats shall feed off Tamil cinema. Talk shows, debates, culture, sports, politics, technology, business, music, dance, TV, radio, the internet and anything else under the sun will be based on Tamil cinema. Computational lithography for EUV illumination systems as observed in modern Tamil Cinema. Barathi Raja on the effects of El Nino on the kuruvai crops in the Cauvery river delta. Back to the story. The two hosts spent some time flitting from one lady veteran to another. There was the regulation hat tip to Manorama, followed by obeisance to Suhasini Mani Ratnam, interspersed by songs featuring them. Honorary mentions were made about SriVidya, Revathi and a couple of others. By which time I had arrived home and turned it off.

What really bothered me was that the entire show was in English. In case you had missed it, the program was titled Tamil Darbar. The hosts were hardly able to string together an English-free sentence. Coming off programs in good Hindi and Telugu, this struck a very discordant note. Also, they were not comfortable chatting about movies either. Mr. Baba, hosting a show about women in Tamil cinema through the ages, announced (in English) that he started watching Tamil movies from 2000 AD, thus leaving Ms. Minmini to carry on by herself in English.

Minmini: Suhasini is a wonderful actor, illiya?

Baba: Grmpfh…Yeah

M: She has portrayed a wide range of roles, illiya?

B: Hrrmph….Sure. Wide range.

I felt outraged. Not as a Tamilian but as a radio listener. This program reminded me of the interview scene in thillu mullu. And I don’t mean it as a compliment. The content was questionable; the presentation bad and the attitude, worse. Why is the average Bay Area Tamil listener getting short changed by 1170AM?

Those that tune in to a desi station do so mostly for nostalgia. To get a quick fix of the language and culture of the old country. Not for spoken English lessons. If I need movie trivia in bad Tamil, I’ll watch Sun TV. The primary objective of 1170AM, and I’m out on a limb here, should be to recreate the magic of AIR and vividhbharathi in a distant land. Bring back the ads for Archana Sweets (Radha, late-a vandhennu kovama? naangu naangu naangu onbadhu ettu naangu) and Saravana Stores (Ranganathan theru, mambalam rayil nilayam arugil.) for God's sake! Imagine driving down Highway 1 on a beautiful spring afternoon after a hearty lunch. In a moment of weakness, I tune in to 1170AM to complete the picture of heaven. The last thing I want to hear is broken Tamil from someone with a mouthful of marbles. (Short name Supi sir! Suppi-yaavdhu guppy-yaavdhu. Get out!) Even if it is an ad for a tax consultant, let it be in good Tamil. Please?

On my missus’ suggestion, I now plan to try out for a radio host at 1170AM. My voice does not have a rich captivating baritone nor do I possess the wit and humor of a Thenkachi Swaminathan. But I have a feel for what is missing from 1170AM and believe that I can provide that. In reasonably good Tamil. Or at least make an earnest attempt. Who knows, maybe on my way out of the interview, I might find myself saying to the next candidate: Candidate-a already mudivu pannittaangappa. Interview ellam eye waas!

The World Cup thus far

Cometh the hour, cometh the performance. Based on the evidence of the Indian team's performance in their first two fixtures, one can reasonably conclude that they were saving themselves for the World Cup. There's something about colored clothes and the white ball that seems to bring out the top game out of this team. The same unit that was definitely tepid in the recently concluded Tri Series where they didn't make the finals. Was it all according to plan? To not be fully invested in a side show and save themselves physically and emotionally for the big occasion?

It is pleasing to watch the transformation of the bowling performance. Umesh is still wayward but at least he has the pace. But the difference in Shami's performance is nothing less than magical. Where was this control hiding these past months? He had an air of resignation about him in the tests, often seeming listless against confident batters. Same question to Shikar Dhawan who seems to be middling nearly everything thrown at him. And Mohit "last-minute" Sharma has turned out to be a revelation based on the evidence available.

Concerns still linger about Rohit's form and lack of runs from Dhoni. Can Virat please overcome this new found weakness in the pull shot that I first observed in the Adelaide test? The inability to push the scoring in the death overs in both the matches seems to not make full use of the good platform put up the top order. This batting unit hasn't been tested while chasing a stiff total. Both the wins have come defending good totals - which is saying a lot given what was expected of the bowlers - after winning both tosses and batting first. But with the two main games in the pocket, India can now play the theoretically weaker team from the other group in the quarters. But sterner tests lay beyond.

Unless cricket is played in the Easter Islands or some such corner, one can count on Indian fans in strong numbers to throw their voice behind the team. MCG bathed in a loud, throbbing sea of blue was truly a spectacle to see.
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England, part of the Big "axis-of-evil" Three, has been run ragged in the tournament that they want shortened in 2019. Sweet irony. They have been mauled on either side of the Tasman sea by the co hosts and have managed a win against Scotland. But a lackluster performance by the English team in a world cup seems to be  given. But the talk still reeks of the sun not setting on the empire.

An ideal format could be 10 teams in two groups of 5. The top 6 ranks qualify automatically, the remaining 4 are selected by pre-WC qualifiers (other test playing nations + associates). Top 6 make it to an all play all Super 6 round. Decide semi finalists and a best of three final. Any takers?
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As powerful batters help themselves to easy runs against hapless teams (Chris "school-bully|" Gayle and Tillakaratne "I'm-still-playing" Dilshan), I'm really looking forward to what should be an evenly matched contest: the Aus - NZ game. Go black caps!

Israel trip diary

This is my second trip to the country. I wish I had been in writing mode for my first trip last year to capture the first impressions, but better late than never.A tightly scheduled, in and out trip means that I cannot visit Jerusalem and the Dead sea this time either.

Day 1: Friday

A much needed storm in the Bay Area. Watching news for delays/cancellations at SFO: but nary a drop of water to accompany the howling winds till I reach the airport. Starts to rain but the trip is on. Flying United has to be the single most depressing thing. Outside of flying the erstwhile NorthWest. Crappy aircraft, flight attendants from hell and the food. The food. If you can't provide edible Indian veggie fare on a flight out of New Jersey, you should not be flying planes. After the meal service - the meal was bad and the service worse, the guy in the next seat opens up his whiskey bottle bought at the duty free shop and offers me a drink. Thank him and partake the perfect antidote for United airlines: Johnny Walker Red Label.

Day 2: Saturday

Arrive in Tel Aviv. A pleasant evening. Quick ride to the hotel. Nice and easy. Shower to get rid of the uneasiness from a 15.5 hour cabin class flight. A 10th-floor, sea-ish facing room with a decent view - can't really complain. However, last time was much nicer: 25th floor overlooking the Med coast. So, yes, I'm a greedy pig. A pre-dinner beer with some finger (smacking) food. Then dinner at a nice restaurant. More food, this time with German beer. The hotel rations free water to one 500-ml bottler per night: so wrong. Walk to buy more water but the store is closed. Shabbat evening.

Day 3: Sunday

Set the alarm for 6:30am. Wake up at 2:30. Must take melatonin. The breakfast spread is easily the most sumptuous one ever I've had on the road from a vegetarian's perspective. Sundays are working days in the holy land. And it is indeed a long day ahead with late afternoon meetings. Meetings that don't start on time turn into meetings that don't end on time. It is a way of life here, so I was told and so I realize. But it will be a challenge to stay awake and alert. Fabulous dinner at an Israeli restaurant. And I choose to fight jet lag with the aid of copious quantities of alcohol.

Day 4: Monday

Attend a 3-hour long all hands meeting. In Hebrew. But the slides are in English and my manager gives me real time English translations. Get a falafel sandwich lunch with a side of really crisp fries. The friendly old man running the falafel stand plies us with some more falafels on the house. Colleagues are caught up with other meetings and I'm on my own for dinner. I walk to old town Jaffa, just a mile down the beach from the hotel and get myself a signature Abouelafia sandwich and a side of their falafels. I've already had my share of falafels for the day but the chefs of A'lafia simply make the best ones. Yum!

Day 5: Tuesday

The cab driver reeks of tobacco and demands to know my room number so that he can pick me up tomorrow. Yeah, right. Seven meetings planned for the day. And they get pushed around, chopped and juggled. But they all still happen. First proper sand storm. Freshly imported from North Africa. Fine dust in the eyes, throat and on the cars. Evokes memories of that knock at Sharjah. Just walking around is trouble, imagine playing cricket and taking good bowlers to the cleaners! #Respect. Dinner at a fancy Japanese restaurant. Ouch! Japanese over so many other local and Italian places in Tel Aviv. Imagine Scarlett Johansson and her friends asking you out for a date (I said imagine!) and you choose to go out with Kamala Kamesh instead. Kamala Kamesh in a kimono. Ugh! Sashimi, teppanyaki and sushi can mean only one thing: a beer and edamame dinner for me.

Day 6: Wednesday

I manage 6 hours of reasonably restful sleep. But I wake up really hungry. The storm, not a common occurrence I'm told, is here to stay. The sea is rough, the air is murky and the sky is grey. The sun is blanked out behind clouds and the dust. This storm is keeping the rains from the north come in and clean up the air a bit. The rains finally arrive in the evening. Head to the bar for drinks and finger food. And then back to the hotel for some food and some more drinks. Gold star, the Israeli beer, is crispy and good.  And although I don't have a developed taste for wines, the few red wines that I've sampled are pretty good too. I'm now nearly adjusted to the Israeli clock. And I'm leaving tomorrow. Sweet.

Day 7: Thursday/Friday

There is an intense security screening on the way out at the airport. A standard clearance letter from the company helps ease things. And I forgot to collect one. If you think I'm an irresponsible traveler, you should read this and this. Although my good heart and a clean conscience helped me clear the procedures without any hiccups, I'll collect one the next time. A rabbi, an American and a United flight attendant walk into a Boeing 777. This pretty much sums up the return flight. Sitting somewhere in the deeper rows, I try to get some sleep so that I can be a bit refreshed for the morning arrival. No luck. Instead end up watching Craig Ferguson do stand up (enjoyable), catch up on some episodes of Curb your Enthusiasm (good) and the movie A Good Lie with Reese Witherspoon (underwhelming: good subject badly handled). I know this is getting repetitive but the grumpy crew on this flight made the one on the onward journey look like a real friendly bunch. But if that is my only complaint for Friday the 13th, I'm OK. 

ICC World Cup 2015 wishes and predictions

Wish: India lift the cup. But twice on the trot? And in Australia where we have spent the better part of the past 3 months searching for an elusive victory? Any victory? Yeah, right.

Now, with that out of the way, on to the predictions.

1. An all Southern hemisphere final: I predict an Aus vs. SA showdown and the Springboks are my favorites.
2. Asia-free semi-finals or at the most one Asian semifinalist and I tip Sri Lanka to be that team
3. Indian bowlers and other pretenders will get completely creamed - new field restrictions and two new balls
4. Explosive/violent batting and brilliant run chases- Read above item. And with ABD, Warner and Gayle, no total can be termed safe.
5. Spin may not be rendered entirely irrelevant but part timers beware.

Happy watching y'all!

Thoughts on India's 66th Republic Day

I watched the 66^th Indian Republic Day parade. Live. On good ol’ DD via internet. We haven’t done this in all these years and somehow decided to watch it yesterday as a family activity. More for Modi than for the Obamas. And more for our kid than for ourselves. (We’re awesome parents.) I tried to explain what DD was in response to my son’s query. How doordarshan was our one (and only) window for everything that was happening around the country and beyond. Sports, drama, news, agriculture, cartoons and national integration. If regional kendras delinking for national programming at the stroke of 9:00pm doesn’t promote unity across the land, I don’t know what will.

In the spirit of full disclosure, Republic and Independence days have meant very little to me besides the holiday as a student and a young adult in India. A cool day off with nothing expected of me. More joy if they fell either on a Monday or a Friday. But this time it felt different. Is it age? The distance/separation? Nostalgia? Or explaining things to my kid who would be further removed from the significance of these ceremonies as he grows older?

There was a lump in my throat when the two-minute silence was observed. The helmet hung over the gun against the burning fire. The significance of the lives lost in remote outposts so that I may, without fear, freely continue to lead my life of indifference, cocooned in the safety so taken for granted. It struck me this time. So many faces without a name. And so many names without a face. Coffins draped in the national colors. And the futility of it all. When the wife of Major Mukund Varadarajan collected the Ashoka Chakra from President Pranab M, it made me uneasy. I could hardly follow the valor of Mukund that was being described in Hindi. But I know there was a man – a son, a husband, a father, a brother - that had performed acts of extreme bravery in the face of danger to his life. His wife picking up a medal for his valor under grey skies on a cold morning with a light drizzle made me positively uneasy. I’m sure she would have happily traded the medal for her husband to be back with her. With the kind of neighbors around us, there will be no dearth for such acts of valor (and unnecessary fatalities) year after year. Borders like the ones in Europe shall remain a pipe dream in Asia.

After having watched the 2+ hour program, I would propose to do away with the whole Republic Day parade such as it is. It has its moments but on the whole, it seems a massive waste of people’s time and efforts. Recognizing military valor and awarding bravery, are required, I understand. But the whole show - parade, rumbling tanks, garish floats – just seems long, meandering and more symbolic and less meaningful.  And there is a strong colonial flavor over much of the proceedings: slow moving motorcades, grand uniforms and soldiers on horses – a hat doff to the erstwhile Raj. What do we want to convey? And to who? I get the feeling that we may still be trying to prove something to our erstwhile rulers and our neighbors. And my point being, we don’t have to.

Instilling a sense of national pride in the average citizen is a noble idea. If not for anything else, at least to stop thirty-somethings from making blog posts like this one. But I’m sure we can find better ways to utilize the money, resources and time that should go into making this event happen year after year. Personal wish: that Modi is the last Indian Prime Minister that prefers the close coat over a suit.

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Rest in peace R K Laxman. On his passing away, I have read a few articles throwing light on the artist behind the iconic common man. A true legend.

The right to die

Anaayesaena maraNam

Vinaa dhainyaena jeevanam
daehi mae kripayaa shambho
tyavi bhaktim achanchalam

A pain free death
A life devoid of misery
Grant me out of compassion, Lord Shambho (Shiva)
Unwavering devotion to you

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California lawmakers are planning to introduce a bill to legalize the right to end one's life. The idea of mercy killing – the right (and means) for someone to choose to end their life in the face of terminal illness – can be a polarizing one, whipping up fervor on both sides of the debate. Personally, I was earlier firmly rooted with those arguing against mercy killing. How can someone have the right to end their own life? The finality of death, to me, seemed to entirely snuff out the “what if” scenario. To a late teen/early twenties guy, the cure for cancer or any incurable condition for that matter seemed more a question of mere time than anything else. You’d open the paper one day to read “Cancer cured!” If you’re not an optimist in your twenties, you don’t have a heart.

And then it happened. My mother was diagnosed with cancer. And after waging a valiant battle against the disease for six years, she succumbed. In that time, I had a ring side seat to witness how this illness can steadily rob someone of everything that defines them as an individual. Their physical strength, the courage to fight the disease (and in this case, the therapy itself) and ultimately their will to live. The last few months of her life were nothing but hell for both her and for us. I was now clearly convinced of the need to be able to end one’s life. Before the prospect of losing the quality of life as it can often happen in such cases.  Advances in medical research may definitely hold many promises but they are just that: promises. And miracles are not a commodity and counting on them may not be a viable strategy. 

The right to end an individual’s life with dignity in the face of terminal illness should be enshrined as part of fundamental human rights. The arguments against this are often tinged with a religious flavor. He who giveth shall taketh. We are just humans, mere mortals. We are not empowered to reject life, given by a superior power. Life is sacred, to be preserved and celebrated. Arguments that I had once subscribed to with conviction. 

I believe there should be a distinction between life and existence. It is not beyond science today to postpone death and keep someone alive. Even if only in a vegetative state. Which raises the logical question: what next? Leaving an individual suspended between life and death till the latter descends “naturally” may be thwarting death in medical terms. But is that really life?  On the same note, people should also distinguish between suicide and the right to die: two very different things. Opposition to the former should not overshadow opposition to the latter. 

To state the blazingly obvious, life is a blessing to be lived, savored and enjoyed. And it is for that very reason the right to die should be legalized. Life is beautiful. Too beautiful and valuable to be allowed to languish devoid of, well, life. 

The argument for the right to die poses its own set of challenges: misuse, impeding development of palliative care (which was grossly inadequate in India when we needed it the most) and mercy killing becoming the default recommendation from doctors. But no idea has ever had a smooth passage through the ages. Better the idea, tougher the acceptance.

Peaceful death. The ancients really knew what to seek from superior powers. 

Je suis confus

Jerry: I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Whatley. I have a suspicion that he's converted to Judaism just for the jokes.

Father: And this offends you as a Jewish person.

Jerry: No, it offends me as a comedian. And it'll interest you that he's also telling Catholic jokes.

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In the aftermath of the recent Paris attacks, I'm left with more questions than answers.

What is free speech and just what exactly comes under its ambit?

Are there limits to free speech? Is it infinite in its reach?

Are there topics sacrosanct beyond the reach of free speech? Is religion one among them?

Is free speech merely a euphemism for provocation? Where does one end and the other begin?

Is religious criticism/blasphemy a free for all? Or is criticism of a religion limited to its practitioners/preachers only?

Can a recent convert be critical of his new faith from day one? Is there a probationary period?

What are the free speech rights of atheists? Should they have to be equal opportunity offenders?

Are all religions really and equally about love, peace and forgiveness? Or some more than the others?

What if this entire idea of afterlife is a bluff?

India vs. Australia 2014/15 - The summary

Australia must have been unwelcoming to the early settlers. Gritty people who must have overcome tremendous challenges from nature to survive and thrive there. Generally speaking, every visiting team today is a group of settlers who will have to show they are made of a tougher fiber to overcome the challenges of a cricketing talent of a different order, unforgiving weather and a sense of occasion. I’m sure cricketing captains of any stripe will admit that a test win in the Antipodes is special and is savored more than any. As a cricket fan, a test win against Australia will secure bragging rights, better productivity at work and more joy in the family. At least for a few days. 

The final score line of 2-0 hardly conveys how well fought this series was. Or how it should have been 1-0 to India or at least 1-1. Anything but 2-0. But it will be so. As an Indian fan picking through the debris, here are my takes from the series.

Watching cricket in Australia is always a pleasant experience. Big grounds with imposing stands, longer boundaries and all-run-fours, sea gulls in the outfield parting for the scorching cover drive, wooden trimmed scorecards on channel 9, the crisp crunch of the bowler's shoes as the ball is delivered and the sound of ball against wood - bat or the stumps and of course, the brilliance of Sachin and VVS. Call me a romantic, but all these made for exiting watching, sitting in a living room thousands of miles away. The 1992 edition of the World Cup was easily the most pleasant for a TV fan and I look forward to the 2015 edition.

The Indian bowling was an embarrassment. In every single test. I would trade this entire attack in a heartbeat for Z.Khan, J. Srinath, Agarkar and Kumble. Yes, Agarkar. Granted, this series was a run feast and batters made a habit of hitting centuries. All things considered, being outplayed, ironically, by a spinner in the one test that we should really have won, was the low for me. Ashwin is not a match winner. Definitely not with the ball. And Karn Singh who? If our bowling pipeline is really that dry, I’m glad that there aren’t any away tours on the horizon. The sight of Anil Kumble bowling in tandem with Harbhajan Singh is now strictly for serving nostalgic needs via youtube.

The finds: M Vijay and KL Rahul as an opening combination could be a long term plan. It may not provide fiery starts like Warner but I would rather take 60-0 at lunch rather than 100-2 any day. Che Pu, Kohli and Rahane could be a middle order that bats as good as it looks on paper. Throw in Saha as the keeper, our batting order looks solid. And none of them is pushing retirement any time soon. S Dhawan and Raina should not be in any test XI on general principles.

Limits of what is humanly possible is often tested in sport. Imagine playing to save a test that is all but lost on day five. Unless you have previous experience, it is difficult to simulate a bruised and battered body with sagging spirits. Or the ability to extract that extra ounce of strength and concentration to change the course of a match. Skipping the Ranji Trophy grind in the international off-season and opting for two-day games where you “retire hurt” upon reaching a fifty as practice is not going to help. But are practice and preparation alone enough?

Which brings us to my next complaint: temperament. Batting for time is an art honed over extended sessions with patience and intent. Barring Vijay, Kohli and Rahane, I found that missing among their colleagues. I find it difficult to rationalize the shot selection of Saha on the final day of the first test in Adelaide. Or of KL Rahul in the 2^nd innings of the Melbourne test. Attack may be a better form of defence. But Rahul Dravid, who has stonewalled his way past many formidable attacks across the world, would perhaps agree that defending one’s wicket as a skill is being grossly undervalued. Is the T20 game influencing the thinking of the modern cricketer?

Finally aggression. When he finally hangs up his boots, Kohli, could well be regarded as Ganguly 2.0. But at the moment, I don’t like the brand of aggression he is pursuing. Send offs, banter and blowing kisses don’t quite go well when the score line reads 0-2. Ask any fan chewing his nails out at an ungodly hour if you don’t believe me. We’ll take a quiet 100, a dignified five-for and no send offs. I'm not advocating meekness or turning the other cheek here but aggression is more powerful if conveyed through cricketing actions rather than comical behavior. I’m talking about the difference between a comeback ripper from Ambrose and the antics of a certain Sreesanth. The difference between a disdainful pull shot by a gum-chewing Richards and the bat swinging antcis of, bear with me, a Sreesanth. 

India vs. Australia 4th Test at the SCG

The series was settled. The trophy had already been prized out of our hands. India had only pride to play for. Which perhaps explains the large scale changes made to the line up. Dropping Pujara was a baffling decision, given that he was looking increasingly assured with every outing. But you can slice up the batting order any different way but it is merely lipstick on a pig as long as the bowling line up reads Yadav, Shami and Buvi.

Welcome to another episode of the Aussie openers accepting the largesse of the Indian trundlers. An hour into the first morning, Kohli was perhaps thinking of spreading out the field or turning to his part timers. Not an easy thing for any test captain within the first session. Especially if you have an aggressive image to maintain. Watching Warner bat, I realize how it must have been for opposition teams/fans when Sehwag was in full slow. Melbourne 2003? Multan 2004? And mind you, he was facing far more potent attacks than Warner and Rogers have faced in this series. With the average defying Smith helping himself to yet another century, it looked that Australia might only need to bat once.

Thankfully, for once, towards the fag end of the series, the Indian tail showed up. Up in the order, Rahul shook off his debut nerves and compiled a neat century. One could understand when he simply collapsed on Kohli's shoulders after reaching the century. I liked his defence and showed that he may possess the temperament required of a test opener. By the looks of it, India may well have stumbled upon a working opening combination. However, India will miss the services of Sehwag who played without fear, took the fight to the opposition, kept the scoreboard ticking and in the process, provided belief and confidence to the rest of the team. The tail put up over a 100 runs and more importantly spent time in the middle. And on day 5, hung by the nails, dug their heels in and refused to be rolled over.

If the first innings bowling made one grimace, watching the Indian bowlers being taken to the cleaners in Australia's second innings was beyond words. Embarrassing doesn't even begin to describe it. What was the plan? What was the field? And what were they doing? I find it difficult to believe that this is the best talent available. I'm not sure what was happening between overs  - as I was watching the Indian TV feed that believes that an ad should come on when the bowler completes his follow through on the sixth legal delivery - but I could hardly see any discussion or chat going on between the captain and his bowlers or amongst the bowlers themselves. A word of encouragement or a pat on the shoulder was never seen and the bowlers appeared to be merely going through the motions. Although, in all honesty, there is not much that can be coaxed out of a bowling unit that has steadfastly refused to bowl to a set field throughout the series. Or even land balls in a good area consistently.

The prospect of India batting last on a deteriorating Sydney wicket will always evoke memories of 2008. Of close in fielders, high stakes, emotional battles, close calls and at the end of it all, another Indian defeat. With a 300 plus target this time, an Aussie win or a tense draw was on the cards in that order. After the Adelaide chase, there is now enough doubt in the Aussie camp that Smith preferred to ensure safety first rather than a bold declaration in both Melbourne and Sydney. Steve Waugh or Ponting, I'm sure, would have had a go at the Indians for a few overs on day four. Batting for a draw calls for special reserves of concentration, gumption and a better reading of the match. And it was pleasing to see the Indians tackle everything that the Aussies threw at them and ensured that the final scorecard didn't worsen than 2-0.

On the evidence of this series, the current Indian bowling cannot contain set batsmen on flat wickets. This group cannot clean up the tail quickly or cheaply either. The batting riches is really heartening to see and may bode well for the future. But with the profligacy of the bowlers, the big scores are becoming less useful. And as cliched as it may sound, no matter how deep we can bat, 20 opposotion wickets win test matches.

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After a long hiatus from blogging - more due to laziness than anything else - I'm pleased at this effort of four posts. Let me see if I can do one more on the entire series from an Indian fan perspective. I wish to keep posting something often. Let me see if the Blogging Gods are kind enough :)

India vs. Australia 3rd Test at the MCG

Boxing day. Summer in the southern hemisphere. The occasion can be overwhelming. It is after all being played at the MCG. Few grounds around the world can be counted as a member of the squad. A twelfth man playing a hand in the proceedings. The Eden Gardens with 100,000 electrified Bengalis for instance. Kingsmead, Durban: a cauldron with a green mamba in the middle. And the MCG. Australia vs. India is a contest worthy of the venue. And here's a fantastic piece on the "G". I haven't read a better summation of a cricket ground and what it embodies.

5-216 to 10-530. When the dust settles on this series, one of the crucial differences between the teams would be the contribution of the bowlers. With the bat. In a fast evolving world, the role of the tail end batsman has been recast. No more prodding. No more heaving. No more blind swings. Ever since Gillespie made 201, the tail. is expected to wag. And put a price on wickets 7 trough 10. With some style too. And when an attack as potent as ours with a penchant for giving career lifelines to weak batsmen is in operation, the last four can make merry.What looked like an even first day made way for a very one-sided second with Smith and co. piling on the runs while the Indians looked rather resigned, waiting for things to happen. If bowlers are paid by the hour, our fast men can retire already.

Day 3 would have been a treat to watch for any Indian fan. After a sedate start, Kohli and Rahane ran the Aussie attack ragged. Calling it mere domination wouldn't be accurate. The passage of play when the two of them were toying with Johnson was a pleasure that we are rarely afforded when abroad. We have had individual shows. We have seen dogged partnerships. But the sight of two batsmen in India caps pulling and hooking at will while keeping the score ticking at a fast clip? Delectable.

The bowling gave a slightly better account of themselves in the second innings and was actually able to keep things quiet for an extended period. Although the wickets column doesn't back this up, Ishant was the better bowler in both the innings, managing to hold things up at one end. He is good but the attack as a whole is not good enough.

In the end, it was India's batting show at Adelaide that almost took us home that weighed on Australia's mind in delaying the declaration till the fifth morning. That helped us save this test eventually. Smith admitted to not wanting to give India even a sniff. That was a first that went against the win at all cost attitude we are used to. So was the curious declaration with four overs to go and a scrappy Dhoni and Ashwin at the crease. I suspect whether a Steve Waugh or a Ponting or even Clarke would have shook hands in that situation.

Fact of life: Test cricket is not a slowed down version of T20. Skills being a given, it takes a certain temperament and a mindset to succeed in this format. The ability to read a situation with a long term view and adapt accordingly is something team India will need to focus on.

Quick note on India's new found aggression. Being aggressive is OK. Standing up is great. But being annoying is not. Let the bat do the talking. Let the ball ask the tough questions. They are louder. They are convincing, Sledging, banter and mind games are not required for bringing out the competitive face of any cricketer. "Sledging within limits" - a concept that is being bandied about by both teams - is an idiocy. Where is the line? Who draws it? And why is there a code of conduct then?  This team would be better off if they tone down their current flavor of on field aggression which seems to border on the comic.