Vacation alert - Do nothing for once...

Have you noticed how annoying the ads on the desktop version of websites have become? You'll be happily reading about the latest scandal to hit the movie industry and suddenly a huge ad will be plastered on the screen with a minuscule 'cross' hidden in the corner somewhere. Do they really think I'm reading the ad while I'm trying to find that pesky little cross?

No sir, I'm not. I'm just annoyed as hell as you didn't let me read the intricate juicy gossip of why Chitrangada Singh is single again and what she looks for in a man.

Anyway, with that out of my system, I wanted to tell you about a trip we're planning to go to next weekend. Have you seen that out of the sea of nonsense passing off as 'taglines', 'Unique Selling Propositions' and 'customer promises', sometimes, someone gets it just right. And that's what this company has done - Linger.

It promises a holiday where you do nothing. That's right, the USP of this holiday is to do nothing at all. No sunrise-viewing places, no adventure sports, no water puppet shows, no cruise ship to catch, no artisan villages to visit, no movie filming sites to go to, no cathedrals to inspect, no cycling groups to peddle along with. Instead, what Linger says is that you can come to our estate, sleep in, curl up with a book, or just lie down looking out at the wonders of nature.

I know that for some people this is the exact opposite of what they would want.

"But what did you DO?"
"Did you see any interesting places? Do you have selfies?"
"Did you experience something 'new'?"

...would be the questions they would throw out. I hear them, but I need to provide you with some context.

AV and I may not agree on many things, but we do agree that the two best vacations we've been to have been to Goa and Bali. Now the innocent reader may deduce from these beach locations that we are both water-babies who like nothing more than to spend hours and hours frolicking in the ocean. The other not-so-innocent reader may deduce that we are both party animals always on the lookout for the next hotspot where we can enthrall the crowd with our fancy dance moves and copious appetite for shots. Both the readers would be wrong. We can't swim, and let's not even talk about dancing and shots.

The highlight of both the vacations for us was the ability to turn on the Do Not Disturb sign and sleep till 11 or 12 every morning. This was followed by two people in their pyjamas walking groggily to the dining table and getting served with copious amounts of food, followed by another nap, before finally gently walking to the beach and staying at the shacks till the wee hours before trudging back to bed.

We were told, by many well wishers, about all the places we did not visit during these vacations. We gently smiled.

So it seems to me that the 'do nothing' vacation would be right up our alley. And I'm looking forward to it so much!
  

Staring into space, with a beatific smile ...

I've lost count of the number of articles that begin with the phrase - "In today's connected world..." and admonish the new age for its multitude of distractions which prevent truly thoughtful work.

...and then they proceed to write an article with completely incoherent paragraphs which seem like they were written in the gaps between updating facebook, watching youtube videos and vigorously managing multiple conversations on Whatsapp. 

Even though this is now a cliche, as with all cliches there is an element of truth. The constant pinging of the phone with news apps, instant messenger updates (from random groups which you joined with enthusiasm, but are now a little embarrassed to leave - the name shows up as having left the group afterall.), the urge to google everything on the go, work emails, personal emails, myriad SMSes selling you property in states you've never even visited, facebook updates of other people's exotic vacations. Whew, the list just keeps going on.

In this maelstrom of data, the only island of peace that I see is the old, friendly neighborhood barber shop. I had this epiphany when I finally shook out the locks of hair from my eye (left eye) this morning and decided that even though God gave me bountiful handsomeness, I have not been taking care of it, both from girth and grooming perspectives. So I googled "Barber shop" (see, it just doesn't end), and off I went. Now Sunday morning is probably not the best time to go to a barber shop if you are one of those get-up-and-go, zippy, excited types. There are usually a number of people in the shop before you. A variety of humanity, from elderly gentlemen perusing the Kannada newspapers whispering gentle admonishments about the state of the country to no one in particular, to hardworking men who want a shave to keep them going for the week, to old time customers of the barber who have long conversations about their nieces and nephews with him. This is a time when you lower yourself in the waiting area chair and start breathing slowly and deeply for the first time in weeks while looking through the who-kissed-who-in-Bollywood and how-the-last-extra-marital-affair-of-the-prominent-industrialist-was-caught articles in those wonderful, wonderful filmi magazines with articles from such luminaries as Ms. Kitty, and a little bird. 

Fortunately, my phone battery died around this time and there were no alluring magazines at this new place I went to. So I found myself just gazing out, no thoughts in my mind, a blank gaze just flitting casually over the hustle and bustle of the street without registering anything. I started imagining things and building stories the way we used to in childhood. Imagining swinging from one pole to the other, landing on the terraces and racing along them untethered...

Wonderful things. This blank state has become increasingly difficult to achieve and I really enjoyed sitting and gazing out without any compunctions. To the point that when the barber shook me out of my reverie as my turn had come, I felt a bit let down...

PS: If there is ever a reason why I would get Lasik treatment done for my eyes, it would be the nervous suspense that awaits you when you put on your spectacles to examine the work that the barber has done. People without spectacles cannot understand the nervous tension that precedes the moment of truth. So I will not even try to explain it.

The furtive allure of a single slip...

Will she get to know? How would she? She's not around. I can do whatever I want - she has no way of finding out who comes to my bedroom and what happens after that...

Come on, you're better than this. Just because she's not here doesn't mean you go behind her back and do this...this despicable thing.


Its only this once...maybe twice. If she doesn't know, it can't harm her. It's so enticing. It's been over two weeks since I did it. It feels like a decade ago...


Just a quick mistake and you'll regret it all your life. You'll be looking behind your back all the time wondering if you cleared off all evidence or not. Being careful all the time to make sure you don't let something slip. Something that'll make her suspect what you did when she was not here.



Flowers. Yes, flowers usually work when she's mad. I'll preempt it by giving her flowers everyday. And cheese cake and ice cream...that works, doesn't it?


And she will not notice your sudden romantic overtures? If anything, that'll make her more suspicious. Don't do it, i'm telling you its not worth it. A moment of madness and a lifetime of regret. Do you think its worth it? Don't you think you can resist the dangerous allure?


But I'm human, aren't I? And the desire to do it is so intense. Aren't you curious how it will go? Will it be as good as the glimpses I got? And the sultry invitation was there in those furtive glances. I could sense it. How can I resist? It's just this once. Just to see how it feels like. Why should I go against human nature and resist? Why shouldn't I go with the flow? It would feel so good.


And then? What happens afterwards? Would you be able to look into her eyes ever again? Won't you feel like a cur every time she does something nice for you? Do you really want to risk everything you've created with her?


But, ....



Before you go running off the rails, AV is in Bangalore while I'm in Delhi. She has proclaimed that I don't watch Game of Thrones episodes without her.

AND . GOD . IT . IS . TOUGH

Flashing the mob, or something like that

Sometimes you find guinea pigs who are willing to try anything. For me this is the couple of AG and RH. These two poor souls are typically in my crosshairs whenever I visit my parents across three states. Once I complete the arduous journey to reach this part of town, all my friends in Delhi seem like they are across the Radcliffe line. I know they're just a metro ride away, but somehow I cannot bring myself to make any plans.
Which brings us back to my guinea pigs, er, friends in Noida. So the poor souls have been subjected to watching a magic show by OP Sharma, no less. Now most of that show was fun, but parts of it were quite cringeworthy, to the point of being sleazy. Fortunately RH has a sense of humour else that show may have ended up costing me an old friendship with AG. After the show I had promised myself that I would not impose these foolhardy schemes on them anymore.
But alas, once I cross the Radcliffe line, I am rather short of friends. And these schemes come to my small brain. And as you may have noticed I don't have too much self control.
So I got them to go out again today to the golf driving range nearby. I think the range was not too bad an experience as we spent a fair amount of time there and then followed it up with a movie (Deadpool).
And now we came out of the mall we were faced by a flash mob dancing along to some popular songs. This was to promote a Indian Cultural program that is coming up in March. Very interesting. Around twenty odd people dancing for the joy of it. Not dancing well or with great coordination, but with an absolutely brilliant smile plastered on everyone's face. It was great, it was infectious, and it was just so wonderful to see.
Now I don't know if I'll visit the cultural thing ( it's across the Radcliffe line), but this is a great way of promotion, so much fun.

Confidence in the dress shop

I don't usually write about marriage/relationship and how it impacts the way individuals behave. There are more than enough research papers, news paper stories, magazine articles, self -help books, and most importantly, Whatsapp jokes around this. But I really need to relate this. Also, I'm sitting at an airport with a long waiting period for my flights boarding to be announced, and I've just discovered a blogger app that lets me post from my mobile phone, so you're stuck with reading this.

One of the ways that you can clearly discern the duration of the marriage/relationship is by seeing the guys behaviour when out clothes shopping. For the girl.
For the first six months there is a swoon. The guy doesn't care if he needs to carry her handbag, doling out "you look wonderfuls" as the girl changes through hundreds of dresses in the cramped trial rooms. For the next one year or so there is the beginning of an awareness that this is not his natural habitat. Hanging on to her handbags (or are they called totes now? Or are they called something else now? Frankly, I can't keep up). This is the period where you can see men cringing when their partner nonchalantly thrust their handbags at them and rush into the trial rooms. Various devices are, well, devised by the guys to prevent the ignominious position of roaming around with a pink handbag on their shoulders as various hues of women excitedly go through the racks of clothes. This is also the period when men try to avoid the eyes of other men in similar predicaments. A whole anthropological study can be conducted around the behaviour patterns of men in women's dress shops in this time period of their relationship. But more on that, and the associated funding request, later.

The next year is when men slowly get attuned to their place in the universe. There are more wry smiles than scowls when they receive the yellow oh-so-cute handbag from their ladies. This is also the period when they exchange commiserating nods with other men wearing other oh-so-cute bags. An anthropologist would probably call this period the "acceptance phase".

And then you come to my stage. I have christened it the "confident consultant" phase. I cannot describe it as this phase is more a state of mind than a set of characteristics. What I can do though, is to give you an example of why I started thinking on these lines. Imagine a rakishly handsome man enters a dress shop (this is not a multi-brand shop with both men an women's clothing. This is just women's clothing), looks around and identifies an empty chair, makes a beeline for it and before any woman could even look at it. He then settles in for the long haul - takes out a book and starts reading. The trial room is 10 yards from his vantage point and he looks up occasionally as his wife emerges once in a while for his comments about the dresses being tried. He bellows out his comments with nary a care in the world. To put it in perspective, the same person, a year ago, would have diffidently murmured his very politically correct comments while shuffling his feet, mortified if any of the other women in the store heard them. But now, not just "oh it looks wonderful" type comments, but harsh comments about the hideousness of the dress, the antecedents of the designer of the dress and what alternative career would suit him/her better are strewn around nonchalantly at the top of his voice.

When you reach that zen state where you feel at home in a women's store, that's when you know you're approaching year four!

I'll keep you updated on what happens next year.

Bab(e?)s on a plane...

Sometimes you wonder about small mistakes that lead to huge consequences. Much like the much touted butterfly effect where an extra flap of a butterfly's wing can lead to cyclonic storms in the other part of the world.

Before I continue on this deep, insightful, philosophical, and possibly commercial post, a couple of asides come to mind:

Its funny I never wondered about why a butterfly is called a butterfly. I mean were prehistoric butterflies larger, yellow and salty to taste? How do these combined nomenclatures (compound words - says google) emerge? Let's take 'sweetmeat' - came across this as I was reading Kim again (related aside - I loved Kim as a child as a pure boy-adventure story, but as I read it now there are so many connotations to it. Some still great but some really negative considering it was written during the British rule in India. Oh, wait, wait, another aside - I was always fascinated by the scene in Lurgan Sahib's shop where Kim sees the translucent image of the jug appear. I never understood how it was done and I actually thought there was some magic involved. This time when I was reading it I actually googled it alongside to see how other people have interpreted the scene. Now I know what was happening there (I won't tell you). Now the question is that knowing seems to have broken the magic and awe I used to feel when I read this scene. So the larger question is  - is it good to read other people's interpretations or to let things lie without having a precise understanding. Anyway, this is just a parenthesis inside and 'aside' so I will not dwell on this). So, why would 'meat' be used as a part of sweets? I know people spend their lives on linguistics, and I kind of understand why they do so - these are fascinating puzzles.

The other 'aside' is Samit Basu's Gameworld Trilogy that has a significant role for Kaos, the butterfly.  Very interesting series of books- I highly recommend, even if you're not into fantasy - it's just such a fun set of books! 

Ok, I'm done with the asides. No, no really - I am so done with them. They make you sound like a rambler - and dedicated readers of this blog would know what a precise blogger I am. No, the three of you, shut up. Family is supposed to back each other up.

So coming back to the small-mistakes-leading-to-huge-consequences thread, I'll have to take you back to a laughably short time ago. The time when God was about to send yet another batch of babies to the earth - and I happened to be a part of that batch. So as you know (or maybe not - I seem to have a sharper memory than most about this stage of the process), they hand out forms to fill where you can tick the skills and abilities you would like to have in your time on earth.

Of course I ticked all the right ones - rakishly good looks, sharper-than-a-scalpel intellect, Greek God-like athleticism. However, I probably should have included the 'careful/precise' as one more skill to keep in my time here on earth. So when I ticked 'Babe magnet' without a thought,  I saw God giving a small smirk. Evidently, He has a cruel sense of humour as I missed seeing that the 'babe' was actually 'baby' and there was a microscopic asterisk pointing to a terms and conditions page.

And it came back to hound me (yet again) as I took my place in a plane ferrying me from Bangalore to Delhi yesterday. Congratulating myself on getting a seat where no one else seemed to be coming, I settled back, snapped my seat belt and fired up my Kindle to read Kim. Almost immediately I had a little nudge on my shoulder as a young couple with a young child stood looking to enter. Now when I say young child, I mean of the bawling-baby variety. And once the couple settled in their hundreds of bags, wipes, bottles, sippers, rags, and all the other paraphernalia, I woke to a fact that I hadn't noticed earlier.

My baby magnetism was at full sway. The entire plane was loaded with babies on every third seat!  

And these babies are hyper-competitive. As the plane taxied I found out all the possible competitions they indulge in. Awards were being contested for in multiple categories -

• Loudest baby
• Shrillest baby
• Most annoying twerp
• Most strategic crier (just as you're about to sleep)
• Most consistent crier
• Asymmetric crier (they don't settle in any pattern - every cry is a surprise)

As you can imagine not a very relaxing journey. 

And now I fill forms out very very carefully. A smirk seems to float around me, and a rather amused, holy voice whispers "Too late, too late, too late..."

 

An ode to Elderman

In the recent past, respecting elders has been coming more naturally to me than ever before. It’s not that I have become a nicer person, or that there has been an eye-opening incident that has driven forth the value of age and experience.

(Also, considering the number of kids beginning to call me ‘uncle’ with confidence, I guess I am probably becoming one of the ‘elders’ to be respected. Of course, as soon as they call me uncle I do react in a typically not-so-elder way. Tennis balls have been confiscated, and pleas to throw back the footballs inside the field have fallen on deaf ears if the aforementioned plea is preceded or succeeded by the dreaded ‘uncle’)

But I digress. The key thing I want to write about an angel on earth. After all who is an angel? A person who helps you understand the world around you with a beatific smile on their face, helps clear all doubts from your mind while bestowing clarity and joy.

Yes, going by that definition, he is definitely an angel sent on this earth to spread joy and clarity.

Especially as TV series are coming up with more and more complicated names and phrases – Daenerys Targaryen and Valar Morghulis?

How is one to understand as these phrases are bandied about in TV series. Much like listening to metal songs where everyone you know understands that particular verse differently, and more importantly, finds that the phrase really resonates with their own life!

But having brilliant subtitles to TV shows makes life so much easier. Easier to follow, better to understand and to act superior to others watching these shows without subtitles and obviously wallowing with random interpretations.

So this post is all about the angel named Elderman (http://www.quora.com/Is-elderman-one-person, http://v2.subscene.com/user/Profile.aspx?UserID=248295 )

What a man! He is one of the most prolific providers of subtitles for all leading shows and has been instrumental in really enjoying so many many shows!

God bless him, and may he continue on this mission of spreading clarity and joy across the world!

Carpenter near.in you?

As you know I moved to Delhi a few months back. Ok, its been eight months. So the whole process of setting up home is happening all over again. You know, all the painful, irritating stuff of finding the right place, negotiating with the landlord, grovelling to reduce rent or deposit. grovelling some more, invoking the disastrous future of unborn children if the rent is not reduced by 500, accepting the rent that the landlord started with...because, who are we kidding, this is still a sellers market.

Now I did all this fairly promptly (4-5 weekends). Pretty good really, but considering I've moved houses seven times in the last eight years, I'm a pro at this.

So house rented, I slipped into the mellow lethargy or a job well done...until I was rudely awakened by AV.

"Our house in Bangalore was so much nicer, all the paintings were on the walls. That interesting clock was mounted just right. It was so inviting and cheerful. I liked having friends come over. Here, all our stuff is still in the almirahs. It looks like we're staying in prison."

I realised the wistfulness in her voice. The urge to have a beautiful house is so deeply ingrained in the female DNA that I noted the tone of melancholy in her voice. So I did what any well-attuned husband who understands his wife would've done - snort, mumble incoherently, and hope she forgets

But alas, it was not to be. The barrage of wistful did not let up, and in three months the tone was moving from wistfulness to borderline aggression. I had heard this tone earlier and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

"We'll go out for dinner tonight!"

Three months passed.

But now things got really urgent (things started getting thrown, simple words were met with eyes staring mournfully at resplendent, empty walls). So I trudged down to the guard of our building to ask for the phone number for a carpenter. He took his own sweet time in giving a couple of numbers. And then the regular nightmare began. The very reason that I was hoping things would not come to pass.

Chasing carpenters as they wade through their extremely busy schedules on weekends. Of promises made, fun plans cancelled to wait for the  carpenter, frantic phone calls met with - 'Bas aadhe ghante mein pahunch raha hun (reaching in half-hour)', the aadha ghanta stretching to hours and eventually no-shows.

Handyman services, reliable, prompt ones, are so very difficult to get, even if you're willing to pay for them. I've seen this across cities and its one cause for rising hypertension in most urban areas. Getting someone to do minor stuff around the house is such a pain.

So anyway, this story does have a happy ending.

I logged on to near.in and placed a request for a carpenter after carefully counting how many nails had to be drilled into the walls to ensure that the house becomes 'inviting' enough.

It was a breeze after that. Couple of minutes later I got a call from near.in to get details of the work to be done, and my location. Five minutes later a couple of handyman companies called. One of them had a pretty darn reasonable price for my needs. Agreed to the price and then sat back to wait for the guy. He had said that he'd be there in half-hour. So going by my experience, AV and I sat back, made some popcorn, put a movie in and started watching. "We'll call after four hours, and then every two hours to remind them" was the plan discussed.

So it was quite a shock that the door bell rang 20 minutes later. And for a change it was not a

1. Maid
2. Driver/car cleaner
3. Random stranger 
4. Salesman
5. Old lady who got off on the wrong floor from the lift
6. Old lady who got off at the right floor, but the wrong building

It was actually a couple of guys from the company I connected to via near.in.

And how professionally was the job done. Forty minutes and they were gone. All paintings mounted cleanly, perfectly aligned, floors cleaned up after them. It was like the elves did it.

Great stuff. Six-seven months of painful procrastination, and it was done in 2 hours once I logged in to near.in.

So AV, you were saying you needed some shelves fixed. Should I get them done right away...

Disjointed...

Once you stop writing regularly, it becomes increasingly difficult to start up again. You go through your daily life and experience many things that you could convert into a good post. But somehow you end up not writing anything...just procrastinating to the point where you can't recall when you used to write often and extensively.

Anyway, I'm just going to write about a few things that have happened recently. I may not even publish this on the blog...lets see

Kindle your spirit
Increasingly, it is becoming very difficult to buy stuff for myself. I remember the time when I would fixate on, say, a watch, and then go out there and just buy it (we're talking middling watches that I could afford, not ultra-luxury watches - my impulse buying is also restricted by 'the chadar I can spread'). Or a gadget, like the hard drive + media player that I saw at someone's place and went out and got it. Or when I wanted a racing cycle and went one afternoon to just buy it and carry it back home in an autorickshaw.

Nowadays, I am in perpetual analysis-paralysis about any purchase. No, not really analysis-paralysis, just that the final pull-the-trigger to buy stuff has become very stiff. This is doubly weird because the avenues of buying stuff have literally exploded, what with the Flipkarts and Amazons of the world. Now, I am in dire need of a few devices - a dual SIM phone to keep by Bangalore number going, maybe a Chrome Cast...but the pathos is such that I am just not able to buy them.

Circa 2008 (I think), my ex-boss and tennis partner AG had come down from the US and I went to visit him one evening. There he showed me a device that bewitched me. He had a Kindle, one of the early versions, and I had  been thoroughly impressed with the e-ink technology and how paper-like the print looked. But somehow, I was comfortable with my paper books and never had that sense of urgency about buying it. Years passed by, and I got into this no-buy zone that I am in and I thought the chances of me actually having a Kindle of my own were pretty thin.

But I kept talking about having a Kindle, and as they started giving ads on Indian TV, I guess I must've started talking about it a LOT because AV upped and got me a Kindle.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am a proud owner (by gift, if not by buying) of a Kindle 3G...and its beautiful.

I still don't get how they make such real-paper-like displays, but it is a beautiful piece of work and has very quickly become a constant companion.

Start your engines
I am surrounded by people moving into start ups, or starting on their own. People from my current organization have moved to travel start ups, seniors from college have left lucrative jobs and have started their own location services based firms,  some friends have got aboard the analytics bandwagon, while other friends have even gone down the path of delivering meats/food. All in all this is a time where everything seems to be saying - look, having something of your own is the exciting thing to do.

I understand that, but I'm not sure I relish it as much. First, because I'm not sure about what gives me real joy. I mean, these guys who have started up think about it 24/7, are always at work (or work related do's), and are so excited about what they can deliver to their clients. It is exciting to hear them, yes, but I'm not sure if it is for me (not that I have people chasing me down to join their pre-start up teams).

One reason could be that the idea has to hit you and take over your thoughts. And once it does, it can become the all consuming focus of your life. Add on an exciting team, probably with people you've known for a while, and it could become one of those joyful events that I think everyone has helped organize in their college. On second thoughts, getting paid to work in that environment could actually be quite interesting...

Domesticity drivers

Another thing on my mind nowadays is the movement from Bangalore to Delhi. I remember when I first moved to Bangalore, it took me a fair amount of time to really 'belong' there. This seems to be happening as I am back in Delhi now. Something or the other keeps popping up and somehow the smooth routine of life (the one that calms and soothes and lulls you) just isn't coming. I'll give you a couple of examples.

We had one cook for nearly the whole of two years while here the cooks seem to enjoy vanishing for 2-3 months and putting in atrocious replacements.

Suddenly, without warning, the temperature has taken such a horrible turn that getting air conditioners became critical over the last weekend. And there you go, my analysis-paralysis plus the urgency of the requirement made for a stressful weekend there

AV travels quite a bit to her workplace (I feel like a chump as she had a much more comfortable life in Bangalore before she decided to throw it away and come to Delhi with me. But that's a whole different guilt trip...), so we got a driver for her. The initial week was painful as he didn't know the directions. And just when he mastered the directions, he fell ill, then his mother fell ill, then something else happened. You get the gist, don't you? Here I thought that one domestic problem had been solved, and then it hit that nothing had been solved.

Running hard on the treadmill, just to stay at the same place...

Silence of the Hams

It was a usual morning. I rushed down to the car, a half-eaten toast in one hand and a shoe in the other, looking at my watch and swearing at the cook who, with uncharacteristic diligence, took half an hour extra to prepare the gruel in the morning. I reached the car, managed to eat the toast and wear the shoe, instead of the other way round. Took a deep breath, slipped on my seat belt and started the car. The radio was on and an unfamiliar sound came to my ears. It sounded…it sounded like music. Panicking, I switched to the next station – music again; the next – music. I was in full blown panic now, I rushed through all the stations – all playing music.

The horror…the horror.

Where were the AAM Admi party advertisements, where was the bellowing sound of Modi screaming as he made promise after promise, where was Kiran Bedi, embarking on the ‘Vikas ka path’, hell, where was Ajay Maken quietly slipping in the message about the roads and metro in Delhi?

And then it struck me, the Delhi elections are scheduled for tomorrow and campaigning deadline has passed. The panic turned to relief, then jubilation.

Seriously, have you been listening to the radio in the past month or so? It has been an unending stream of political ads. From the basic ‘vote for me’ ads to hardcore negative ads about other parties, other candidates and their families, hell nothing has been taboo in this election.

The importance of these elections is understandable, everyone thought that AAP was done for and the normal two-large-party model would continue again. There is a certain comfort in having a known enemy – you know what to do and say - sanity prevails. But like a phoenix (to use a cliché) the AAP is threatening to disrupt the status quo again. Both large parties do not like a third element coming into the fray, an element that threatens their next ten year plans. The difference is that one party already knows that it has lost and is cutting its losses. The other party, on the other hand, considers the Delhi seat a cherry on the cake and is going full throttle to make it theirs. The AAP, after its national experiment failed spectacularly, is in a struggle for survival and relevance. The charitable would also call it their crusade to ensure that the common man prevails.

All this means that the might of two parties and their supporters has  manifested into a marketing campaign of utmost proportions. And just like Indian cuisine, the campaign spices and flavors are overboard; and just like Indian soaps, the campaign acting is ham and loud; and just like an Indian cricket fan, the campaign emotions are wide and strong.

And this means that for the last couple of months all marketing channels have been crammed with messages. It has become so much that the noise has become overwhelming. Radio is just one example, but even the print media seems to have a single point agenda – print as many political ads as possible. Make sure the ad revenues go sky high. Television, especially news channels, have gone so blatant that it is comically obvious which channel owes allegiance to which political party.

It is dirty out there. And it is quite depressing, that this is the type of campaign that works in our country.

I, for one, am glad the campaigning is over. Maybe now we may get a chance to sit back and think. Beyond the overload of messages, to the messages themselves. Who will be right for Delhi? Who would actually help with the little niggles and major pains that we deal with on a regular basis?

Whatever you think, do vote. Maybe the next campaign would be less crass and overpowering…

Reintroduction to Delhi/Gurgaon

The year was 2006.

A dashing yet vulnerable looking youth tentatively stepped off an aeroplane in the rather small and congested old-airport in Bangalore. He had with him a single suitcase and a scrap of paper with an address.

He looked around hesitantly. The air was crisp with a hint of rain. A combination that he would get so used to that he'd take it for granted in some time. But that would be later, right then, just after the heat and dust of towns in Gujarat, it seemed like heaven.

He stepped out of the airport to see the smiling face of a close friend, and the familiar pillion seat of a rather fetching burgundy motorcycle. He had spent close to two years riding pillion on this bike. Two points of familiarity in a sea of the unfamiliar. Unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar roads, even unfamiliar red, igneous soil.

And so the journey began and I moved to Bangalore.

From the initial couple of years when Delhi still seemed the real home and coming back from vacations gave a sick feeling to the stomach, to missing Bangalore when on vacations abroad and only feeling  comfortable after landing at the Bangalore airport, its been a long and interesting journey.

So when I got a good professional opportunity back in Delhi/Gurgaon I wasn't completely exuberant about leaving Bangalore. True, quite a few friends had moved out of the city (including the first familiar face here, PS) by then and the weekends were not as full of action as they used to be, but still, AV and I had set up home here and we liked the city. We had our own haunts and our own stories. I had thought that if we would leave Bangalore, it would probably be to move outside India. But then, as they say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

So I came back to the place of my birth four weeks ago. AV, the sacrificing angel that she's been about this, is still in Bangalore and will be joining me in a few weeks.

Enough context. This post is about coming back to Delhi and rediscovering everything again.

After you spend nearly a decade out of a city, coming back is as good as living in a new city, even though in theory you had spent 22-23 years earlier. And that's what is happening now.

I was looking for a house to rent in Gurgaon for most of these last four weeks. And this has been such a different experience because, if anything, there has always been a house in Delhi and I have never been exposed to hunting for a house here. Overall, it was a very different experience than in Bangalore (I should know, I've stayed in eight different houses there). For one, the brokers were significantly more unreliable than they were in Bangalore. At the other end there were brokers who wanted to ensure we chose the right 'address' rather than the right house. But it wasn't all bad. There was a lot of warmth in the broker who finally got us the house. Genial smile, taking me around as I precariously perched on his Activa. Showing me the different markets where I could get great food and also advising me that if I just move to the other side of Gurgaon, I could buy everything for '30% cheaper'!

Which brings me to the other thing. The FOOD.

It is just amazing in Delhi. I know, I know I've eaten some amazing food in extremely hoity-toity restaurants in Bangalore, but the steaming momos in the nippy air of a November evening, or the sizzling tikkis at night or the chhole-kulche at any time of the day in the street food markets of Delhi/Noida/Gurgaon are unmatched by any high-end restaurant anywhere. Oh, and I forgot the paranthe outside IIFT (yes, I visited the old alma mater dhabas one night. Though I believe I accidentally missed the alumni meet last Saturday. Pity, I would have liked to connect with people again)

All the food means that I am buying more and more soap. (As the surface area is increasing. oh what the hell, I am gaining weight with all the food intake. Need-to-start-running-again)

And finally, and most importantly, lest you think I value food more than friends, I have been catching up with a lot of old friends. People I've been in constant touch with but who I have met very infrequently. And there's nothing like having friends around; friends who you can tell (instead of ask) that you'd be staying over at there place and they better arrange for your favourite food before you reach there. Or having friends who show up downstairs to pick you up if you don't feel like driving.

So yes, things are different here. And there will be many rediscoveries and new discoveries to be made, but I'm sure it'll be a fun ride!


PS: You realise sometimes that the parameters of comfort change. I am looking forward to AV coming, and then we can start rediscovering things together. I'll also feel a little more, to use the cliche, 'settled'.

PPS: Now you know I'm in Gurgaon, so all my long lost friends, do drop me a line/comment for us to catch up again! Preferably, while eating street food!

Internet ke Angoor

The internet, is a wonderful thing.

Where else would you be able to find a source of distraction to distract you from a source of distraction when you should be studying/working? Where else will you get the inside track on which cat videos are popular with Gen-Now? Where else will you get to peep into other peoples' lives without the least threat of having the window banged on your nose?

But there are some problems that come with the internet too. Especially when you have two rather weak minds.

Let me explain.

So AV had mentioned many times that Udaan was a very interesting movie. So we were watching it one evening (from where else, the internet) after dinner. Now it's a good movie, and even though I wasn't too convinced by the ending, I get that it is an unusual topic, has a good script, good performances.

But the problem was not the movie.

Small spoiler ahead

The movie starts with a bunch of school kids from a boarding school stealing out of their dormitories and going to watch a late night movie. You know, a 'that kind of' movie. Pretty commonplace, right? Something that Ruskin Bond may have written, eh?

Unfortunately the name of the movie they went out to watch was 'Kanti Shah ke Angoor', from the legendary film maker of Gunda (post). Now with a name like that, and some scenes that were shown in Udaan, it was almost a foregone conclusion that the two weak minded individuals in question (AV and yours truly) would be enthralled by this name.

Now in ancient times (pre-internet) this enthrallment would have been just that, a weak entrallment that wouldn't have led to any action. But in this era (post-internet) it led to something that I will continue to remain ashamed of.

We watched it - Kanti Shah ke Angoor - On Youtube - Till 3 in the morning.

(hides his face)

And the next person asking me for a link to the movie on youtube will get a tight slap. At least put in the effort of searching for the movie!


PS: I just read that the lead "actress" in Kanti Shah's 'Uss tarah ki pictures' is his wife! Sometimes, I am just amazed at the power of commerce. 

Kicking the ball looks easy, no?

And it's happening again. Football fever is gripping the country and armchair pundits across the world are disparaging the skills of the players while casually reclining their recliners and munching their favourite fried snacks and beverages.

"Arre that through pass was just too weak"
"Call that a header? Bah, my grandma could've had more power on it"
"clear the ball, Clear The Ball, CLEAR THE BALL you !@$#124"
 "Make the run, cross it to the guy with the blond hair, GOAL GOAL GOAL. See I told you!"

So the long and short of it is that the said person on the recliner is usually me. And AV sometimes comes in bleary eyed after I scream, whacks me one on the head and then disappears again.

So when I got an invitation to play a football match on Sunday morning, I was quite geared up for it. In my mind, I had already made up the position I would play at (a la Pirlo). The strategic mid-fielder who would make the crowds go ooh and ah with his perfectly weighted through passes. I was already dreaming of how my grateful teammates would pick me on their shoulders, tears in their eyes as they solemnly do a lap around the ground in front of waving flags and screaming, adoring (hopefully female) fans.

The reality, unfortunately, was a bit different.

I was able to stay upright for the 60 odd minutes we played. That's it. Nobody raised me on their shoulders. A few people were looking at me and muttering, what I want to believe, were compliments about my skills. I did see the captain surreptitiously (or not so surreptitiously) striking off a name from the list of players for the next match. I have a strong suspicion that it was that blue shirt guy's name, though you never know with captains.

And his handshake at the end of the game was decidedly final.

Ok, ok it wasn't as bad as that. We had a good game, won and everyone seemed to have a good time. There were flashes of competence and a stream of bloopers as would happen for any one who hasn't played for a while

It was good fun, playing after a while. But what I did want to say is that all the skills that look so easy on the screen are anything but. Many times I was trying to pass the ball to someone and it ended up going in a totally different direction, including a heart-stopping time when it went to the other teams main striker. Taking a header on a bounce, the ball would bounce clear over my head, or if it did touch, it was a glancing blow - much like Gerrard's that helped Suarez (Chikki bhaiyya - who taught us quite a bit of soccer and had us run header drills would have been appalled with some of the headers). Even the clearance kicks which look so easy were dropping weakly 6-7 yards away - and usually to the wrong team.

So, to conclude this meandering post - you would perhaps have felt that there is no real conclusion in this post -

"Screaming at screen - easy
Playing football well  - not that easy
BUT

Playing football - fun!

Smiling through a Forced Exile

Strange title, eh? Got you interested enough to read, eh?

This is what happens when you abandon someone. Now that none of my regular readers visit the blog everyday to read about my antics, I have been forced to resort to gimmicky titles to get some interest and traffic out here.

Yeah, yeah I know I haven't been writing frequently, but that doesn't  mean you don't spend 3 seconds (or 7 if you type slow) to type in www.swappinglives.blogspot.com in your browser to check what's been happening in my life. Hell, you can also use Ctrl+Enter in case typing the www. and the .com is too much effort!

SO there are two main topics here.

I did something on Saturday that I haven't done for 10 years now. Something that is so devastatingly strange and uncommon that I kind of felt very good about it. Something that was forced, no doubt, but was still very very liberating.

I didn't carry my cellphone. Yes, I walked out and about without the familiar weight of a cellphone in my left pocket.

Wait, actually that's not true. I did go through a small period when I didn't carry my phone in 2007. That was when I had fallen full length into a rainwater drain in Bangalore's torrential rains. Don't remember that? And you call yourselves my  regular readers, hmmpff. Read it here: The Mysterious Incident of the Drain Dive

Coming back to a happier time, this time was a bit strange. I got a call from Vodafone (my service provider) on Thursday (12 June) that some documents need to be re-submitted by the 15th or my phone would be disconnected. Now I normally don't listen to such calls with a lot of concentration. So it didn't register with me. You would normally be correct in concluding (with a snigger) that he must have forgotten about it and woke up to a no-working-phone situation. Except, that's not what happened. Did I forget about it? Yes. Did I have any intentions of submitting the documents? No.Was the service provider justified in disconnecting my phone if the documents were not submitted in 3 days? Yes. Did they wait for the 15th to disconnect? NO, a resounding NO.

They disconnected the phone on Friday, 13th June! Now, I had heard stories of scary things on Friday the 13th, but super-efficiency from the service provider was not one of them.

But this did have a good effect. Not having a phone is mildly therapeutic. Not that it still doesn't keep pinging because of Whatsapp that you get through the wifi networks at home and work, but it's been a while since I just walked out without a device that anyone could reach me with. It was faintly liberating. And I had to hunt for the phone this morning because it had been so unimportant over the weekend that I didn't even know where it was!

The other topic is a little strange and perhaps you'll laugh at my silliness.

"He's a few cards short of a deck"
"As we suspected, he's a little cuckoo"

Yeah, yeah hear me out though.

Mornings.Are.Stressful.

You're running about getting ready, packing lunches, waiting for the maid and cook to clear out etc. Tell me, who doesn't read those silly articles about how people get up early and meditate and  relax and go through their morning routines with a beatific smile, and make a face and say what bull shit is this. Actually, a very appropriate cartoon strip also came out in today's Bangalore Times.



So you get out of the house and on the road where all the stressed out drivers and riders are trying to cut out a few minutes from their commute and reach office on time so that the rest of the day can be a bit better. By the time you reach work your shoulders are knotted up with stress, you have a scowl plastered to your face and you pretty much know how the rest of the day is going to be like.

I read something a little while back which says that even the act of smiling is a stress buster and can help you calm down.

Baloney, you say. And so did I. How can plastering a grin on your face affect your psyche? Seems like another of those silly authors writing anything to make their timeline.

But I've started trying it on my drive to work. Force a smile and automatically the scowl goes away (try it, you can't hold a scowl on your forehead when you're smiling), things slow down a little and you're more willing to let the bike-guy who almost brushed against your car go by without yelling abuses at him. You reach office more at peace.

I know, I know, Swapnil is getting soft in the head.

But try it. Before you dis it, try it on one commute. I wouldn't be recommending this if I didn't actually like it.

So if you're driving around Bangalore, around 9:30-10 in the morning and you see a rakishly handsome guy with a silly (slightly scary) grin plastered on as he maneuvers his car deftly, don't run away screaming - it's probably just me trying to bust some stress!

Back to a peaceful age...

The other day I was out jogging

(Or wheezing, semi-rolling and finally plopping on my face as some rather imbecile-like observers call it. Yes, I'm talking about you - the one who called the ambulance when I was merely taking a breather on the jogging path by indulging in a little Shavasan)

Anyway, I normally listen to music on my phone while running (wheezing, rolling, plopping). Unfortunately, I have a Windows phone which makes it near impossible to make a decent playlist without connecting to a computer (or even after connecting). Thus, I end up listening to the same songs again and again and again...

So this time I decided to try something else. I switched to the radio and started searching for radio stations that I normally don't listen to while driving.

And I locked into Vividhbharti

And it was so cool. No garish advertisements selling me real estate, or chirpy (screechy?) RJs playing phone pranks on people, or random people trying out tongue twisters to earn prizes.

A Hindi play was running on the station. No background score, just nice mellow voices acting out different characters in the play. The story itself was no great shakes, but just hearing it without a break, with no effort to sell me something was such an enchanting experience.

And that's what's happening elsewhere as well. I find myself gravitating more and more towards listening to the Doordarshan and BBC news, rather than the thousands of channels for which each story is 'breaking' all the time. Same sensational statements repeated again and again with no substance.

I was watching a channel yesterday which said Modi will give out bonuses to BJP workers. 16 times. In 2 minutes. Once every 7.5 seconds. Go figure.

 And the debates! Don't even get me started. If we tried to debate like that in school, we would've been kicked off the stage and probably been made to stand outside class for a while, a long while. Screaming, scratching, drowning out the opponents (enemies?), not interested in what was being said - as long as it was loud enough.

I think it is time for someone to break the clutter with a well thought out program of debate. A show where you just have two participants, a well defined topic and a provision for blocking out one person when the other speaks. Let's just get the actual opinions on the topics with no provision for questioning. 

So in a decade and a half, Vividhbharti and DoorDarshan are making a return to my mindspace. Not for any great quality, but just for peace.

Am I growing old? Or is the cacophony just too much already. 

The Hidden Joy of Mr. Rahul Gandhi

Am I the only one who thinks Rahul Gandhi looks so much more happy since the election results?

Now, I am not too much of a Gandhi-family type of politics. The politics of ensuring a family rules, whatever the impact on the country is obviously not my, or any other reasonably rational persons, cup of tea. Doling out huge subsidies to measurable vote banks and distributing out reservations galore to groups to ensure that the future pipeline of votes is maintained makes me feel as angry as the next 'aam aadmi'.

But I can't help but feel happy for Rahul Gandhi now. All through the campaign he has looked like he was being forced into something he just does not want to do. He walked into most interviews and rallies the same way we used to walk into engineering viva voce exams. We knew we were going to be screwed, but there was no away around seeing it to the end.

The judgemental focus on his performance during the campaign would have undermined his confidence even further. I don't think anyone can be thick skinned enough when almost every single word, every single gesture was. and continues to be, analysed and criticized by numerous pundits. And he certainly doesn't seem to be thick skinned at all. His expressions were too transparent and he certainly doesn't look like a person who craves or relishes power.

Of course he could have denounced this role that was being thrust upon him but AV very intelligently put it  yesterday, the Gandhi family is riding a tiger. They have to continue trying to ride it or it will bite them back and finish them. The number of scams and scheming that has gone on in the last few years - the only way to avoid a backlash is for someone to keep holding on to the reins of power. And unfortunately in true patriarchal fashion this role was thrust on the 'son of the house', whether he wanted it or not.

The way forward for Rahul Gandhi or even the other Gandhis/Vadras is not clear, but at least it has become abundantly clear that Rahul cannot be the person who plots and schemes and takes on the responsibility justifying actions he had not had any role in. And now that this is clear to everyone banking on him and running over each other to anoint him prince, he would be feeling a huge weight lifting from his shoulders. Who knows, with the pressure gone he may be able to do much more good than ever before. He may even move away from the public field and do something he is really interested in. I cannot believe that he is as talentless an imbecile as the media has been painting him. Maybe he'll write a book, maybe he'll paint, maybe he'll get into business. But whatever it is he does, at least  it will be something that is not thrust on him.

So to those who derisively ask - why was he smiling when declaring the rout that the Congress faced, I think the answer goes back to the viva voce situation. Once you come out of the room, there is relief - it's over, you've done all you could have, whatever happens now - the next exam is six months away and you can breathe...

Crushing Addictions...

I slept at 3:30 am on Thursday. Slept at 3 am on Friday. Fell ill by Saturday.

No, I'm not leveraging the new 1 am deadline in Bangalore to paint the town red. Nor am I working hard on an investment banking deal which would net me millions of dollars.

Instead it is this exasperating thing. This little niggle that refuses to leave me with any peace. Its a festering little wound that keeps reminding you of its presence with a nagging low level pain that just doesn't go away.

Have you read Narcopolis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcopolis)?
There are these descriptions of people who are opium addicts. The perpetual craving, the gnawing in the pit of the stomach for one more puff, the levels to which they fall for getting their fix.
And I'm feeling the same. Every night, every day.

It's this bloody Candy Crush (http://www.candycrushsaga.com/)

Now, I had been initiated into this a long time ago. I went through the initial phase of playing the first 60-70 odd rounds. And then...I stopped. No withdrawal symptoms, no pain. I just got bored one day and stopped. Life was peaceful. A gentle breeze was blowing. Birds were chirping. The weather was mild.

Until I picked it up again. And now I seem to be in the same zone as the chandu-addicts in Narcopolis. Going to sleep with just the hope of starting on the next level in the morning.

Aargghh, someone, get me to the rehab!

Transitioning Libraries...

Many of you would know that I have been using a library called EasyLib since 2008. It was a great find for me and really helped me in sustaining my reading habit.

In fact, just because you are such dedicated readers of this blog, I shall give you some statistics:

Row Labels	Count of Book
2008	11
2009	59
2010	57
2011	58
2012	29
2013	47
2014	7
Grand Total	268

 

Month	Number of Books
Jan	34
Feb	34
Mar	15
Apr	23
May	23
Jun	16
Jul	19
Aug	14
Sep	20
Oct	19
Nov	15
Dec	36

Interestingly,  more books read in the winter months. Makes sense, nothing like snuggling in with a book during winters!

As you can see, when you start using pivot tables to track your own book-borrowing behaviour, you really need to take a break from work!

Anyway, the long and short of it is that this library had become a weekend ritual for me for a good 5-6 years. Unfortunately, due to some reasons the library has shifted to a rather distant part of Bangalore, Rajarajeshwari Nagar. It would take upwards of an hour to reach there and it just didn't seem feasible to continue with this library.

Thus, the last few weeks have been slow on reading. I did go to Blossom and pick up a couple of books, but somehow having a well-stocked library is just a great feeling (by the way, those who are close to Rajarajeshwari Nagar, do look up EasyLib. It's got a very good collection - www.easylib.com ). Also, after five years of using a library, not having one leaves a rather hollow feeling.

So I was despondently sitting around one day when it struck me - there may be other libraries in Bangalore. After all Bangalore does have a rather reading friendly environment. So I got on the internet and searched.

Lo and behold, I realized that there is a national chain of libraries that has a branch roughly, oh SIX MINUTES WALK from where I work!!!

Bagal me chhora, sheher mein dhindora

So I sneaked off for some time from my office yesterday and checked out the Eloor libraries (www.eloorlibraries.in)  branch nearby.

And the collection is quite vast and good!! YAY!

So life is beatific once again. 

Though the weekly visit to EasyLib also included a nice breakfast at Cafe Terra. Now I just need to find a breakfast place near Eloor to complete the experience!

Weighing In...

Pounds and Kilograms, Kilometres and Kilometres per hour and Kilocalories.

Sigh. There was a time when I was blissfully ignorant of these concepts. I mean, I knew what these were of course, but in an abstract sort of manner. They didn't affect me and I didn't affect them. I didn't think of them and they, in turn, didn't think of me.

But all this changed against the backdrop of pristine blue waters and white sandy beaches. Last October-November AV and I were on a vacation in Bali. Now, normally I would look to find cheap accommodations wherever I go but this time because of a glitch in www.booking.com  I wanted to make this a really, really special vacation, I booked a nice hotel. 

Nice.To put it mildly.

Let's just call it drain-out-your-account-and-max-out-your-credit-card-and-steal-your-neighbours-car-and-sell-it "nice".

Perhaps it was the pressure of knowing my first born child would have to be sold to bonded labour to pay the 'Nice' room's bill that I lost my appetite a bit. 

Now that we were at the hotel I decided to forget about the financial crisis when I return to India and enjoy myself. This obviously meant using EVERY SINGLE FEATURE in the room. Every light was switched on and off, the little touchscreen that controls the airconditioning was moved up and down just for the sake of it, the small cashew packet in the mini-bar was slit like a surgeon so that no one, least of all the guy who would come to check the mini-bar, would realize that the cashews were gone!

Amongst the last few things I spied in the room was a small weighing scale nestled unobtrusively under the wash basin. So, against my better judgement, in the spirit of extracting every Rupiah's worth, I stood on it. I looked down and the sweet display was showing something I just couldn't imagine. My weight was significantly lower than I ever remembered in the past. A good 4-5 kilograms lesser.

Miracles, they say, happen.

And thus began the journey of understanding all the scary terms (kilos, calories etc.). Of going for a run after coming back from work, on getting up early on a Sunday and going for a run. My weight lowered miraculously, and I was going to keep it low, dammit!

Unfortunately, after reducing it another kilo, it was time for another vacation. This time to Singapore for the New Years. And while we did run 3 kilometres on Chennai airport (yes, we did!) and then a token run on the first day in Singapore, the rest of the vacation was an insatiable cesspit of good food and drink.

Cesspit, you say? A bit harsh, you say?

You would say the same if you came home and realized that those little pre-lunch, post-lunch-but-before-evening-tea, pre-dinner, post-dinner, just-a-little-midnight-munching snacks had added another couple of kilos. 

And then we had to go to Delhi where moth our mom's have an ongoing healthy competition for the "Who-can-feed-them-more Cup".

Another kilo added in 2.5 days.

I started running again last week. But it looks like a hopeless cause. 

Perhaps I should have taken the scales photo and posted it on Facebook when the weight was low. 

Perhaps...

Cricketing Whites...

Happy New Year!!

And yes, this is part of a resolution to quit being lazy and get the blog rolling again.

And considering its only the 3rd of January, I am still firm on (most of) my resolutions.

Now, there's a large backlog of topics to write about. I mean, the last post was over four months ago! And so many things have got me thinking 'Ah, I've got to write about this!'

So here goes...

One thing that has really been a part of almost daily conversations in the intervening period has given me innumerable and deep insights into the human mind, its motivations, its thinking processes, its uncertainties, its fears, its highs, its lows. In my non-blog life, this topic has been an overarching presence in the last few months. From the moment the door bell rings in the morning to when sleep overtakes, this, or related thoughts have remained in my mind.

However, writing about the domestic helps, quite frankly, is not the most exciting way to start the new year. 

So I shall skip this huge and essential facet of life and move on to other things. However, this topic is not retired, it is merely on a sabbatical and will certainly be written about later.

Lets talk about some other things that have given me joy over the last few months. In one word, sports. I have been playing a lot more and it is great. Though it has led to a disappointment which lends this post its title.

As you may remember, when I moved into this new apartment the main draw, apart from this being close to AVs place of work, was an emeraldine, lustrous, beautiful tennis court (I may embellishing here a bit. The court is there, but its quite old with cracks running through it). A few months went by without getting a partner to play with but in the last 2-3 months a couple of guys and I have started playing regularly (stopped for the last two weeks - that's the next resolution to address) in the morning. 

But apart from tennis, cricket also made an entry back into my life. Not the tennis ball variety, but the real leather ball game that I used to like so much in school. And weekends at the nets or playing an occasional match with other company/club teams is really good, after all these years. Its also good to see that all those years of bugging the hell out of neighbours by bouncing a ball off the wall and batting on the rebound (yeah, yeah haven't we all done it? Atleast in India) has still left some skills.

So we played a couple of matches as a company team. Great fun. The sound of the bat stroking the ball, the running on the boundary to cut off a four, the catch in the throat when the ball bounces out of your hand and you catch it on the second chance, the sigh of relief when the batsman misses a dolly you'd sent down. 

Ah, the joys.

Afterword:

This for DB, DC, AB and all the others who still remember my cover drive in the match we played in class nine (or was it tenth?). And the same people who don't let me forget what I did on the next ball (clean bowled trying to hit a six):

In a match against a club, after hitting a beautiful (if I might say so myself) cover drive to the boundary, I gingerly defended the next ball.

Redeemed... after 15 years. Eh, DB, DC and AB?