Cricket - a strategy based game

I always knew that Cricket is a team game. But it was only while I was watching Pakistan innings against India yesterday in Mohali that I realized its a game of strategy too.

While the whole of India was cheering happily for every dot ball Misbah made, I was awed by his strategy and execution of it. In a slow pitch that offered so much turn in the middle overs, Dhoni gambled with Nehra for Ashwin! That leaves only one class spinner, Harbhajan Singh, to bowl with not-so-consistent-but-currently-in-form spinner Yuvraj at the other end. Together, they finished their quota of 20 overs while the batting power play for Pakistan was yet to be taken.

All Pakistan, especially Misbah, needed to do at that stage was to stick to the crease and save their wickets. Its not going to be difficult to go after fast bowlers, for whom the pitch has nothing to offer, during the batting powerplay.

Unfortunately, even the team Pakistan (minus Misbah) did not understand this strategy, and so everybody went for a big hit, which brought more wickets to India, than runs for Pakistan.

In all, I really feel for Misbah. He reminds me of Rahul Dravid of India in many aspects. When it comes to class cricket, one's character must precede his age. In yesterday's game, I was hoping that one partnership with Misbah can make Pakistan to create history by beating India in the world cup for first time.  But now, for that to happen, I have to wait for four more years!

An innovative way of cheating passengers

"Give two rupees more, I will give you five rupees in return", told the conductor to me for buying a ticket to Cuddalore from Pondicherry, which cost 7 rupees. The conductors are always in short for the change, thus leaving many passengers to wonder where does all the coins produced by the Indian Government go!

The bus was boarded by more than its capacity, however, I am one of the few lucky passengers to have got a seat to sit. I picked up my purse, took a two rupees coin and flipped it on to the conductor whose hands appeared out of nowhere like a magic, amidst the crowd. He took the change, put it in his bag, searched thoroughly for a 5 rupees coin or note, but found none instead.

"Wait for, Sir, I will give you 5 rupees as soon as I get one", he promised. The office people and school kids occupied every square inch of the bus, with their bags occupying another square inch of the space available. The person who is sitting in the opposite row could not be seen, leave alone the conductor. Thus it was impossible for me to 'see' him to remind him of the change, though I could hear his voice every now and then shout "ticket...ticket...".

It was only when I reached the destination that I could meet the conductor and ask for the change. But by then, he had already seen almost hundreds of faces to remember and recognize mine.

"Will somebody give 12 rupees for a 7 rupees ticket? Are you trying to cheat me?" he shouted. My attempt to explain how he did not have 3 rupees change and so demanded 2 rupees more to round it off to 5 rupees went on his deaf ears.

It took some time for me to realize that I got cheated by yet another innovative way!

Remembering my Peripa

"I will put you in a sack and hang you in that tree", terrorized my peripa for being mischievous. It indeed worked, for when I was a kid, I was afraid of none, but him. Every time I hear the news from my dad that his brother is coming from Thiruvendipuram, I frantically search for a hide out where he can never find me to threaten.

It happened some twenty years ago! The recently turned octogenarian, later became my close friend as I grew up, sharing lot of details about his childhood and my native village, every time I paid a visit to him. "You were born on the same day my father passed away", he once told. His nick is thoppai desigan, for his big belly who is officially known as Srinivasa Ramanujam. I could never meet my paternal grandfather, and so I envisioned my peripa as my grandfather whenever he talked about him.

The day after I finished my class nine examination is still fresh in my memory. It was the day my dad has  decided to conduct Yagnobavitham ceremony for me and my elder brother at his native residence. Since it was decided to perform the sacred ceremony for both of us in single sitting, my dad and my mom planned to sit with my brother, while peripa and perima were asked to sit with me, to put the yagnobavitham (sacred thread) and announce the world that I am a Brahmachari then onwards, and have taken the sacred vow.

Ever since I moved on to college, I could meet him only once in a year or so during the temple Utsavam. The gap between me and him, naturally widened thus. The last time I met him was a week ago at his residence when he celebrated his 80th birthday with his children, grand and great grand.

During that trip, little did I realise that this will be the last time I will see him with his traditional child-like smile on his face. All good things must come to an end, and so does good life. My peripa, after celebrating his 80th birthday during which he saw all his descendants are well off and settled, breathed his last. May his soul rest in peace.

"Happy Holi" wishes from Mother Nature

Humans are so obsessed with artificiality to an extent that the distance between us and the nature is ever increasing, just the way its happening with our universe. Wooded landscape are paving way to more concrete jungles, shaded trees are being chopped off, only to be replaced with sheets of plastic, a vast population from the human race have the privilege to see the trees and plants only in the form of a commercial product, such as furniture, papers etc.

Has nature ditched us the same way in retaliation? I guess not. In fact, it is desperately making an attempt to call for our attention. A couple of days back, when the whole of India was celebrating Holi, the festival of colors, Nature was silently wishing us on the occasion. But did we care to listen?

One can't unify himself with Nature unless he/she gives up some levels of artificiality. Try walking the path instead of taking your bike or driving a car. Listen to the birds instead of the song being played in your ipod. Tune to nature, instead of TV/Internet. I am sure, Nature loves to talk to us, the way our parents want to when they grow old.

To begin with, I have posted a few snapshots of Nature, wishing us on the occasion of Holi with colorful flowers instead of artificial, health-concerning powders.

Its now our turn to wish back at Nature.

Review of My Days

We often appreciate good works published by our favorite authors, Sidney Sheldon or R. K. Narayan. But how much do we know about these authors? What made them to choose writing as their profession? What or who is their source of inspiration? Where do they draw their characters from? How do they construct a plot? Are all fictional stories really fictitious? Is there a personal touch of a writer in his characters based on his/her real life experiences? In "My Days", R. K. Narayan has tried to answer some of these questions.

"My Days" an autobiographical work of R.K.Narayan, is worthy of his novels, says his friend Graham Greene. True to this, the book had been written with elegance, like any of his other works. Starting from his childhood days where he used to play with unusual pets of monkey and a peacock, he takes us with him to a journey which shows a peek of his life; the hurdles he faced at war times, personal and financial difficulties that loomed over him on several occasions, and how he faced those issues which never deterred him from writing.

My Days is certainly an inspirational work, especially for young and aspiring writers whose dream is to choose writing as their career.