Adios Laxman!

By the time I have managed to get this one wrung out India have just won the Under-19 World Cup and also the first test against New Zealand - a largely expected result. This post, not unlike Sachin Tendulkar's retirement, is long overdue. But better late than never.

VVS Laxman's retirement.

A sporting retirement is inevitable. It is the sole aspect that is common to all sorts of careers and personalities. But some, when timed really well, leave us with a sense of longing and a sadness. Especially when time is called on a career that had come to define a rare quality of Indian cricket - defiance. Watching Laxman's retirement go by is like finally selling a car that you were really fond of. Especially if that car happens to be a Toyota Corolla. Far from flashy, not remotely flamboyant and a 0-60mph number that may not be the most impressive. Yet you don't remember when it has stalled on a Monday morning, or on a rainy night on your way home. Ever reliable in getting you from point A to B. Point A, in this case, often being a precarious situation against quality opposition in a tense test; while point B was, just as often, a position of safety or, on many occasions a victory. For, make no mistake, Laxman was the Toyota Corolla of Indian cricket - the no fuss, all-weather, everyday man.

Most of Laxman's memorable knocks were an artisan's assignment executed with the flourish of an artist - artisan in the no fuss acceptance of the team's needs and going about the rescue act; artist in the magical methods that he chose. Occupying the lower part of India's greatest middle order, and always in the shadow of the hype and exploits of the bigger names, his role has been one of understated efficiency. His crucial contributions, though, were consistent and often delivered when it mattered the most.

Together with Rahul Dravid, the other gentleman cricketer to hang up his boots recently, Laxman formed a partnership, that can be best described as thayir sadham (curd rice). The great Indian cricket feast has seen  its share of spicier and tangier dishes together with the accoutrements that are readily remembered when recalling the feast. It is the humble, smooth and mellow curd rice that one remembers least, yet it is that very dish that rounds off any square meal; providing the much needed relief and comfort for the connoisseurs.

Laxman, over his entire career, has entertained the fans of the game, helped supplant despair and resignation with hope when the chips were down and brought a certain measure of balance to a star studded team.

The sight of the old school stylist from Hyderabad - the honest man's Azharuddin, if you will, walking in at the fall of the 4th wicket will be missed. The silken mastery that helped conjure gaps and angles unseen by mortal eyes will be missed. The man wearing a toothy grin and a white hat at second slip will be missed. Thank you Laxman. 

Vignettes from a LA trip

We have just returned from a quick trip to LA last week. Taking advantage of a brief lull in the work world, I hastily planned a dash to the entertainment capital with the extended family in tow. I've been to Los Angeles on multiple occasions before. As a graduate student, as a newly employed single guy, as a newly married couple. This was my first trip in my new avatar: father of a particularly mischievous 15-month-old tyke.

The onward journey

We set ourselves a start time of 8AM from the Bay Area intending to escape traffic snarls at both ends of the journey. However, it was only after 10:00AM that the one-kid circus hit the road, packed with enough food to feed an army. 90 minutes into the drive, we were wolfing down idlies (+ gojju), tamarind rice (+ chips) and curd rice (+ home made pickles) in a rest area along the I-5. One coffee stop and 75 songs later, we were in LA: nearly 7 hours after we had started. Surprisingly, the LA traffic was mild and we could check into the hotel at 5pm.

Universal Studios

Visit #4 for yours truly. Yes it is over priced. Yes it is over crowded. But you've got to hand it to the Universal folks that successfully manage to keep people interested in this place even after all these years. With a new ride (Transformers 3D), a change here (King Kong 3D in the studio tour), a tweak there - the place seems to be reinventing itself at some level to live up to its title of "the entertainment capital of LA". They have built it and the crowds indeed keep coming.

The Jurassic Park Ride

When it comes to going on rides, I will admit without shame that I am reduced to a quivering mass both before and after the ride. And I throw up three of my four previous meals both during and after the ride. Yet, about once in five years, I do end up going on one, only to curse myself for the next five years.

1997: Giant wheel in Black Thunder, Mettupalayam. Culprits: Taunting friends, my own ego and stupidity. Outcome: (pun intended) the lunch - a full meals in TN parlance, if I may add, and the last few morsels of that day's breakfast.

2001: A centrifuge posing as a ride, New Year Block Party, Tempe, Arizona. Culprits: Taunting friends, my own ego (there was a girl in the group) and plain stupidity. Outcome: The Thai dinner and two cans of Pepsi.

2006: The Mummy ride, Universal Studios. Culprits: The smooth talking staff "It goes forward at 40mph and returns to the starting point at 40mph." I'll bet that guy would have described the Pope as a German guy in white wearing a cross. Outcome: although I didn't do the technicolor yawn, I was caught in nauseous spells for the next two days.

I have only been on bus/plane rides since then, save for a nano-roller coaster ride in Malaysia in 2008. A wife can be extremely persuasive on the first anniversary.

2012: The five year cycle was up and I told myself that I would go on the Jurassic Park Ride that seemed less evil than the rest. The wait time was nearly 60 minutes and as the line snaked through to the boarding point, my stomach kept churning. As we rounded the last corner, I was ready to sneak out under any pretext. However, when my wife pointed to a young girl taking the ride in spite of her right leg being in a cast, my pride was stung and I had to take the ride.

The night of the fight, you may feel a sting. That's pride ****ing with you. **** pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps. - Marsellus Wallace, Pulp Fiction. Truer words? Never spoken.

To make an already long story short, I survived the ride - the spitting dinos, the roaring T-rex, the fall and all. And honestly, it wasn't too bad. The regulation picture from the ride shows me clinging on for dear life, yelling like a mad man. But here is the best part: neither did I barf nor did I suffer from any dizziness afterwards. (Although, I might have as well thrown up the sorry veggie burger that I had for lunch.) Perhaps I'm getting better with time, like wine? Stand by for a confirmation in 2017.

The heat

I've spent the first twenty years of my life in the oppressive heat of Chennai. I've spent the next 4 years in Phoenix, Arizona where the heat was dry but just as oppressive. Add another 3 years in Singapore and I have no business complaining about heat anywhere on earth. But I felt really, visibly uncomfortable in LA when the mercury was above 104F. My complaining about the heat is like Manmohan Singh complaining about corruption, but that day I was as comfortable as Swami Nithyananda in a press conference. How soon the body gets used to the pleasures of milder climes. I sought out every mist blower, every square inch of shade, applied liberal quantities of sun block and yet was nearly dead by the end of the day.

The return drive in numbers

0 - food stops
1 - beverage stop
2 - diaper stops
3 - pm start from LA
4 - beverage stops we should have had
5 - times we told ourselves "No road trip till son turns two"

The car

My ride for the trip was a brand new 2013 Hyundai Sonata: the odometer read 10 miles when I picked it up and the new car smell was very strong. I have been among the people that have been blown away by the looks of the reincarnated Sonata - the Koreans have hit this one out of the park surely. After the 900 mile journey, I was seriously toying with the idea of replacing my 8-year-old, used Passat. But then it doesn't take much to convince myself that a new car is never a good idea financially and my present ride, though not a head turner in any sense, is after all reliable and gets my family from one place to another in reasonable comfort.

My observations on Japan

This post is not about Japan's recovery from the WW II/the atom bomb/March '11 tsunami and the subsequent rise to the atmospheric levels of economic and technological development. If you've come here expecting to read about the never-say-die, you-can't-break-my-will spirit of the Japanese, I'm no expert in those topics. This post is also not about how clean, organized, respectful and culturally different/rich that nation is. Instead, these are some useless casual observations about the people/country that I have personally made over the time that I have spent there. In other words, if you've come here expecting any value at all in return for your time, I have two words: Hello newcomer! 

The scramble crossing. This is the best thing to happen to mankind since the tilting wet grinder. (Why does it always have to be sliced bread?) The light turns green and a sea of humanity crisscrosses at every major intersection in all possible directions. To give you an idea, I have written this post entirely from the time saved by using the diagonal crossing. And that is a lot of time given my writing skills. If big cities across the world haven't done this, they should. If most of them already do, I must travel more.

The pencil box. That's right. Every working adult in Japan seems to carry a fully loaded pencil box. The said pencil box would have, at a conservative estimate, multiple mechanical pencils (with spare leads, of course), an assortment of pens with multicolor refills, a few erasers [a Jap colleague of mine routinely doodles during meetings with his pencil and erases them afterwards with his eraser. I mean, how cool is that? Au contraire, I have to lock up my note books. Should someone rifle through the pages of my office notebook, I'll be sitting across from the HR head and answering very awkward questions.] some highlighters, a solitary correction ink dispenser and a six-inch ruler. Yes, you heard me: A six-inch ruler. Ever seen one since class X? Me neither.

The suit. The Japanese national obsession with suits never ceases to amuse me. (It seems to be the same case in Korea too.) Suits of many colors, materials, styles, prices. Suits for men, suits for women. Suits as uniforms, uniforms as suits. They are just everywhere. I'm all for dressing up for the occasion. But wearing a suit every single day of the week wears me out. Even if it is not me that is actually wearing one. Interestingly, this year, the thermostats are set higher because of the power shortage and the general agreement has been to do away with the suits during business meetings. Just when I finally got myself one and learned to knot a tie.

A quiet morning at the Tokyo Station

Eye drops. Moisturizing the eyes seems to be a national past time. Waiting for the train? A couple of drops. In the taxi? A couple of drops. Before lunch? A quick squeeze. After lunch? Reach for the bottle. Most, if not all, of the people that I work with seem to be carrying a tiny bottle of some concoction meant to keep their eyes moist and clean.

Wet towels. Simple, handy and convenient. Saves you a pre-meal trip to the wash basin, saves so many (t)issues during the meal and offers a means to salvage some pride to even the most clumsiest of eaters. A dollop of curry on your favorite shirt? No problemo! A drop of soy sauce on your tie? Worry not! As someone blessed with two left hands when it comes to handling chop sticks, I can't count the number of times I've carried out covert clean up missions with a wet towel on shirts, ties and pants. Of people sitting next to me.

Air craft boarding. This is the smoothest exercise involving the movement of an assembled group of people from one point to another. If aircraft boarding was a sport, Japan would be world champs. Everyone is small, lean, smart, organized and disciplined. Announce - board - settle is the routine. Compare that with the standard boarding procedure in Chennai: announce - mad rush - try taking the first class line with an economy class boarding pass - quick calls to bid farewell one more time - stuff that coffin-sized cabin baggage into the overhead cabinet while blocking the aisle - negotiate a seat change to sit next to a friend - demand a pre-take off whiskey. We have some catching up to do.

Texting and cellphone accessories. The Japs (And Koreans. And Singaporeans.) seem to be maniacal texters. People, girls particularly, are on the phone, typing away at 90 miles per hour. Particularly on trains. Flip open...type text....close...flip open....read....giggle....type text....close. Round and round they go till they finally get off at their station. And the cellphones look like a decorated cow on maattu pongal day: inconvenienced and clumsy.

Yamaguchi-san on a conference call. 

Ten jobs I would love to have

1. Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu
2. Mayor, Chennai City - You will have something to defend Chennai against other metros. Not including the weather. Of course.
3. Commissioner, Chennai Corporation - That stink won't be the first welcome sign to Chennai.
4. Education Minister, Tamil Nadu - To start with, no more Anna, Kamaraj on Tamil text book faces.
5. Head of State Transport Corporation, Tamil Nadu - Conductors will go to you. Fares will go up.
6. Station Manager, Chennai Central Station - No human waste on tracks, no karuvaadu smell in the platform. A 15 member auto driver gang won't hound you as you get out.
7. Airport Manager, Chennai International and Domestic Terminals - Urine stench free boarding area, meaningful displays. Park and fly vs. an entire village to see a passenger off.
8. Chairman, Tamil Nadu Tourism Development Corporation - You will carry back some good memories.
9. Cabinet Minister, Indian Railways - Working toilets, clean food. Fares will go up.
10. CEO, Air India - Part of Star Alliance, no stewardess over 60 70!

You're welcome.

If you're my manager reading this, I absolutely love my job. What? Yes, I will get started on the report that you wanted done yesterday.