I hate to be repetitious but Cricket so much flows in my veins that I have to write about it and have to write it at the start. This particular article is a preamble to things to come later this year or early next year. Mr. Wall and Mr. Specialist will be humiliated, mocked and torn apart in full public glare and with all the media coverage and very deservedly so. And Being one of the most loathsome opponents of the two I take it as a moral obligation to write their due obituary even before their demise.
My first objection to their existence is their self belief and ability to stand tall against the best in the business. In an age of fast cars, faster mode of communication and still faster way to execution (through bomb blast) how could these two bastards stay unfazed and concentrate on the job at hand? And they did it for more than a decade. In an age where boom-boom is the shortest and easiest way to glory, how could these two apply themselves ball by ball, session by session; sweating, taking blows on stomach, on face, on chest and still not gave up? In an era of Big Boss, MTV Roadies, Indian Idol all masterpieces on their own and reflecting true taste of society, the culprits in question gave us a boring Eden Gardens and a frustrating Adelaide. Couldn’t any body remind them the amount spent on broadcasting?
Their most heinous crime is to be the first among equals in a battle of courage but their reluctance to be a participant in a gang rape; a gang rape with full sanction of industry, media and general public and called T20. Here you are given the option of facing a bowler with his ass well oiled on a flat track and your virility is to be tested whether you hit him for a six or four and their will be appreciation even for holding out in the deep with the comments ‘at least, he tried.’ You have to be a base ball player in the guise of a Cricketer. That they tried to remain cricketer is the testimony of their impotence. When the bowlers themselves don’t complain and find a way to remain in news by slapping each other and getting high on dopes, these two needs to be punished for still being quiet. Isn’t it then, a poetic justice that the same bowlers err Khiladis find solace in Hasinas and the two in question get due humiliation bit by bit and from one and all?
T20 is perfect and is the need of hour, the TRP it got says it all. That it is backed by biggest business and entertainment persons is purely coincidental. It’s the public demand that forced them invest into it and in no way they drive the public sentiments. That same public liked Ashes 2005 and made it the most watched sports event ever is an aberration. That Test Cricket can be made popular in a society that knows exactly what it wants is a wishful thinking. T20 is here to stay.
So, I request all readers of this article to please assemble at the Stone-Pelting Ceremony marked for the demise of the duo and to be announced soon. It’s our moral duty to remove all traces of heroics prevalent around. And being one of the strongest believers in Societal Ethos and Public Demand I will be the first one to begin.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Me: The Sulking Slave
Sitting alone in that Only Stags bar with every drag of smoke he is re-living the most important day in his life-the day he got his first job and the days that followed thereafter. The day was special as it would save him from the disgrace of becoming one of the few distinguished not to have a campus placement and furthermore, it meant no more sermons from fellow mates who had already secured blue chip assignments. It was a welcome relief especially for someone who was just jerked by his lady love and jerked badly.
Two years hence and four jobs later, today, with every shot of whisky, he is wondering if that is really the life he wished for. That there will be No Cricket- No Fashion Show, it was taken, but the world outside the campus would be so unexpected, so bitter, so apart; it was yet to seen, yet to be felt. It’s a world where your caliber is gauged by how quickly and blindly you follow the instructions not by your ability to solve a business problem. A world where designation determines not your pay package but the amount of respect you are supposed to expect. A world where your productivity is measured by how you dress up and get along with your colleagues and not by the skill set you possess-A world where your promotion depends not on your performance but on the efficiency with which you distribute your boss’ marriage invitation cards- A world where every single piece of individuality is choked against the name of systems and procedures, A world where if you keep quite and mind your own business, you are perceived to be inefficient and anti people- A world where those dreams of entrepreneurship were strangled even before they saw the day. This is his corporate world-A world he has chosen to excel.
He is still pondering until interrupted by Aakash his friend since childhood.
“Sorry, for being late man, in fact, boss came in when I was just about to leave and you know how it is, it takes some time especially if it’s a weekend. Hope you didn’t get bore. Oh I forgot, my friend doesn’t get bore these days. Do you?"
“No, Aakash I didn’t. Listen, I just wrote these few lines-
Every single day he wants to break free,
But then he remembers his shopping spree;
There is so mush peace in being himself,
Yet he can’t forgo Tommy in that luxury shelf;
There is so much to live for one’s integrity,
Hmm! who gives a damn to that nitty gritty;
Life offers so much to rise and so much to fall,
And he can’t do anything he is a bandua mazdoor after all.”
“Not agggain. Can’t you keep your philosophy out this Friday evening? You know a weekend comes after five long days.”
“In fact I shouldn’t have used bandua mazdorr, a bandua mazdoor is more fortunate in that he doesn’t have delusions about his fate, he has no hope for redemption. He has to live and die as a slave; there is no second thought about it. But here we are: Skilled Professionals-Ignorant, Unrealistically Bullish, Scandalously Happy and Unbecomingly Hopeful of our destiny-.”
“ Mr. Neo-intellectual if you think after fucking myself for ten hours in the office I still have energy left for your wicked whims, you are really testing my patience.”
“Why you get rude, dude? ”
“Why? Why shouldn’t I? Tell me, why shouldn’t I? You read those psycho craps, watch those strange movies and you think, you think you are some special sample of shit, you got a taste and you are hatke. ”
“We are our choices- The sum of books we read, movies we like, and people we admire, the Work we love to do.”
“Ghanta.”
“Will you ever listen to what I want to say?”
“No, never. You think by changing job every six month, showing contempt for companies, indulging in this crooked philosophy, and behaving strangely have made you some super man, I think its time to clarify- it has made you a joke- A Big Practical Joke.”
“And for the life of me, I do care for it. (Pun Intended)”
“Hmm! ‘I am with one of the most ‘Premier in Indian League’ didn’t you say not too long ago?”
“They are all same: Inhuman, Boring.”
“There is nothing like that. Everybody works there, not all complain. You have to come out of that shell and stop looking at things with that philosophical angel. Adjust a bit and slowly you would also be a part of it.”
“That’s what I am scared of, not of my inability to adjust but at the possibility of being a part.”
“Do you know there is a difference between a Rebel with a Cause and a Fashionable Rebel? Freedom, Individuality, Free Will, Self Esteem are all philosophical stuff. Reality is, we are middle class curse and we have to work all our life for others-willingly or out of compulsion.”
“I agree, partially, but don’t you think there should be level a playing field to showcase one’s talent? Shouldn’t an incumbent be given a chance to prove his mettle instead of throwing him in an ambience of sycophancy and opportunism?"
“And don’t you think you should have been born to an Ambani or A Gates -Bhosdi Ke? You know what! I wouldn’t have been fucking my mind if you weren’t the same person who made sponsorships pour in for that cricket event in that dilapidated place we once studied. You didn’t need a marketing degree to do that. If only you were not the same man who made maximum profit in that entrepreneurship contest, I would have kept mum. You were resourceful and understood people better and you made better use of whatever came your way. But since the time you started indulging yourself in those Fight Club movies, read that so called intellectual stuff that it was the start of your deterioration. If anything it did, it only added to your spilt personality syndrome- and has given you a delusion: A delusion of Grandeur- A delusion of Achievement- A delusion of Delusion:
Freedom (Loud)!
Individuality (Louder)!
Dignity ( Loudest)!
(Pause! He squeezes that yellow-white lady between his lips and after a few seconds)
Fuck you. ”
“People do change with time so does their perspective.”
“Mr. Self proclaimed Philosopher, you think all our friends who are much better off than you, they are all crooked, they don’t work hard, and they got no integrity, sab chutiya hai and you only are special. We live in a practical world…….”
“Don’t give me that practical shit.....
(He is loud for the first time and there is silence for a while.)
If to compromise one’s integrity in the name of responsibilities is practicality, I damn it. And as for as friends are concerned I don’t have anything to comment, it’s their life and they may lead it any way they wish.”
“And you think by terming your irresponsibility as ideals, personal motives will do?”
“There is no greater responsibility than one’s own life. A life that we get only once in our entire lifetime.” ………….
And the duo fight each other to have their say,
Every weekend and every week day,
And tick-tick does the time as the journey has its own way.
Welcome to his Blog, his World –“Chaotic-Crumbled-Confiscated- but Decided-Destined and due for Deliverance.”
Two years hence and four jobs later, today, with every shot of whisky, he is wondering if that is really the life he wished for. That there will be No Cricket- No Fashion Show, it was taken, but the world outside the campus would be so unexpected, so bitter, so apart; it was yet to seen, yet to be felt. It’s a world where your caliber is gauged by how quickly and blindly you follow the instructions not by your ability to solve a business problem. A world where designation determines not your pay package but the amount of respect you are supposed to expect. A world where your productivity is measured by how you dress up and get along with your colleagues and not by the skill set you possess-A world where your promotion depends not on your performance but on the efficiency with which you distribute your boss’ marriage invitation cards- A world where every single piece of individuality is choked against the name of systems and procedures, A world where if you keep quite and mind your own business, you are perceived to be inefficient and anti people- A world where those dreams of entrepreneurship were strangled even before they saw the day. This is his corporate world-A world he has chosen to excel.
He is still pondering until interrupted by Aakash his friend since childhood.
“Sorry, for being late man, in fact, boss came in when I was just about to leave and you know how it is, it takes some time especially if it’s a weekend. Hope you didn’t get bore. Oh I forgot, my friend doesn’t get bore these days. Do you?"
“No, Aakash I didn’t. Listen, I just wrote these few lines-
Every single day he wants to break free,
But then he remembers his shopping spree;
There is so mush peace in being himself,
Yet he can’t forgo Tommy in that luxury shelf;
There is so much to live for one’s integrity,
Hmm! who gives a damn to that nitty gritty;
Life offers so much to rise and so much to fall,
And he can’t do anything he is a bandua mazdoor after all.”
“Not agggain. Can’t you keep your philosophy out this Friday evening? You know a weekend comes after five long days.”
“In fact I shouldn’t have used bandua mazdorr, a bandua mazdoor is more fortunate in that he doesn’t have delusions about his fate, he has no hope for redemption. He has to live and die as a slave; there is no second thought about it. But here we are: Skilled Professionals-Ignorant, Unrealistically Bullish, Scandalously Happy and Unbecomingly Hopeful of our destiny-.”
“ Mr. Neo-intellectual if you think after fucking myself for ten hours in the office I still have energy left for your wicked whims, you are really testing my patience.”
“Why you get rude, dude? ”
“Why? Why shouldn’t I? Tell me, why shouldn’t I? You read those psycho craps, watch those strange movies and you think, you think you are some special sample of shit, you got a taste and you are hatke. ”
“We are our choices- The sum of books we read, movies we like, and people we admire, the Work we love to do.”
“Ghanta.”
“Will you ever listen to what I want to say?”
“No, never. You think by changing job every six month, showing contempt for companies, indulging in this crooked philosophy, and behaving strangely have made you some super man, I think its time to clarify- it has made you a joke- A Big Practical Joke.”
“And for the life of me, I do care for it. (Pun Intended)”
“Hmm! ‘I am with one of the most ‘Premier in Indian League’ didn’t you say not too long ago?”
“They are all same: Inhuman, Boring.”
“There is nothing like that. Everybody works there, not all complain. You have to come out of that shell and stop looking at things with that philosophical angel. Adjust a bit and slowly you would also be a part of it.”
“That’s what I am scared of, not of my inability to adjust but at the possibility of being a part.”
“Do you know there is a difference between a Rebel with a Cause and a Fashionable Rebel? Freedom, Individuality, Free Will, Self Esteem are all philosophical stuff. Reality is, we are middle class curse and we have to work all our life for others-willingly or out of compulsion.”
“I agree, partially, but don’t you think there should be level a playing field to showcase one’s talent? Shouldn’t an incumbent be given a chance to prove his mettle instead of throwing him in an ambience of sycophancy and opportunism?"
“And don’t you think you should have been born to an Ambani or A Gates -Bhosdi Ke? You know what! I wouldn’t have been fucking my mind if you weren’t the same person who made sponsorships pour in for that cricket event in that dilapidated place we once studied. You didn’t need a marketing degree to do that. If only you were not the same man who made maximum profit in that entrepreneurship contest, I would have kept mum. You were resourceful and understood people better and you made better use of whatever came your way. But since the time you started indulging yourself in those Fight Club movies, read that so called intellectual stuff that it was the start of your deterioration. If anything it did, it only added to your spilt personality syndrome- and has given you a delusion: A delusion of Grandeur- A delusion of Achievement- A delusion of Delusion:
Freedom (Loud)!
Individuality (Louder)!
Dignity ( Loudest)!
(Pause! He squeezes that yellow-white lady between his lips and after a few seconds)
Fuck you. ”
“People do change with time so does their perspective.”
“Mr. Self proclaimed Philosopher, you think all our friends who are much better off than you, they are all crooked, they don’t work hard, and they got no integrity, sab chutiya hai and you only are special. We live in a practical world…….”
“Don’t give me that practical shit.....
(He is loud for the first time and there is silence for a while.)
If to compromise one’s integrity in the name of responsibilities is practicality, I damn it. And as for as friends are concerned I don’t have anything to comment, it’s their life and they may lead it any way they wish.”
“And you think by terming your irresponsibility as ideals, personal motives will do?”
“There is no greater responsibility than one’s own life. A life that we get only once in our entire lifetime.” ………….
And the duo fight each other to have their say,
Every weekend and every week day,
And tick-tick does the time as the journey has its own way.
Welcome to his Blog, his World –“Chaotic-Crumbled-Confiscated- but Decided-Destined and due for Deliverance.”
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