Saturday, April 10, 2010

TIME

Time gallops at a blinding pace
            who knows where it will stop?
Neither have we the reins in our hands
            nor our feet in the stirrups

Youth has vanished but
            we remain unaware
We search eternally for it
            our backs doubled with age

Friday, April 9, 2010

THE GAME OF SURVIVAL




            The video posted here is ‘The Game of Survival’ from ‘The Bear’ filmed by Jean-Jacques Annaud, the French film maker.  We have been captivated by the survival techniques employed by the enterprising bear cub to wriggle out of a sticky spot.
            Haven’t we all been faced with such tricky situations in our day-to-day life from time to time?  Would it be an exaggeration to say that it is a jungle out there we navigate everyday?  May be not, for I certainly can spot quite a few ferocious lions, cunning foxes, cowardly lambs, chattering monkeys and squealing rats around me.  We regularly learn to side-step potential quicksand and find our way through the unknown wilderness with lurking dangers in the jungle landscape of our careers.
        Our social lives are a different game of survival altogether.  A potentially threatening situation for many of us is striking a conversation with strangers.  The English are blessed that they have a tailor-made topic for initiating conversation-the weather.  The glorious vagaries of the English weather are a fool-proof conversation kick-starter.  With weather like the one Chennai enjoys (!) what does one ask? “Isn’t it hot/hotter/hottest today??”  Forget anyone responding favorably to that, it would be a definite conversation-stopper.  Many thanks then to our unctuous politicians, swash-buckling cricketers and vainglorious movie stars for being the fodder to keep our small-talk going on forever. Religion, caste and language may separate us but these netas, princes and badshahs bridge our differences.
            Well, for many of us (yours truly included) the biggest survival game would be the daily challenge of arriving at work on time and leaving work before time.  Hmm, a tough life, indeed.


Thursday, March 25, 2010

IPL FOR DUMMIES

            Don’t let the title mislead you! This is not a self-help blog to decipher the nuances of Indian Premier League T20 Cricket or navigate through the maze of IPL jargon.  May be a more appropriate title would be ‘Dummies and the IPL’.  So now that you are suitably unimpressed, adventurous enough and more importantly, if you don’t mind wasting a few more minutes of your life, do proceed further, by all means.
            When everyone is gripped by the IPL fever, I thought it the right topic to write about.  What a cunning move to garner maximum readership!! (Did I hear you snigger?)  But a little problem confronted me-should I not know cricket (not the six-legged variety) in order to write about it?  I bolstered my self-confidence by recalling the words of wisdom, that no one who feared the waves ever found a pearl and plunged into my task.
            I decided to equip myself with at least a rudimentary knowledge of cricket.  What better way than to watch the IPL3 matches?  I was glued to the television set keeping track of the teams. Within a week I was familiar with the colors of the teams ranging from sunflower yellow to hideous purple, not to speak of the golden pads and silver gloves.  I was an encyclopedia of knowledge about the team-owners and their sartorial styles. I started waiting eagerly for the off-field cat-fight between Ms. Kat and Ms. Deeps who were both promoting the same team.  I knew all about the hands-on (!) style of Ms. Zinta and the aloof hands-off style of Ms. Shetty in supporting their respective teams.  Priety pranced about all over the field jumping up and down like a yo-yo all the time and giving out ear drum-splitting screams resembling the battle cry of a T. Rex.  In complete contrast was Shilpa who chose to sit demurely beside her richie-rich hubby displaying her fashionable shades and other random accessories and diamonds the size of rocks which our very own Chandrayaan brought from the moon, her sound-bite never progressing beyond a giggle.
            After a week, I sought the help of my friend to bolster my attempts at mastering cricket.  After all, there is strength in numbers.  So, it was a combined effort thereafter.  But sadly, no two women agree on anything.  So, as we sat drooling over Dhoni’s biceps, we had our eternal arguments about whose curls were wilder-was it Malinga or Murali, who had the highest cuteness factor-was it Lee or Gilly, and in between, trying to spot the similarities between the Pathan brothers.  We derived sadistic pleasure in choosing the teams for the last two spots-would it be the Rajasthan Royals, Kolkata Knight Riders or the Kings XI Punjab?  Two weeks just flew by in a haze of fours and sixers. 
            So what if I haven’t mastered cricket?  When the commentator says that Harbhajan has bowled a maiden over, I know that he isn’t referring to a Bollywood starlet.  I may not know what fine leg/square leg/leg break/leg bye mean, but I do know they are not anatomical references.  I know enough not to think dirty when I hear about the Asking Rate.  I’m quite happy with my progress so far.  There are a few more weeks to go for the grand finale of the IPL Season 3.  By then I’m confident I will update my knowledge and know for a fact how many swigs of Kingfisher beer Dr. Mallya takes during every match, if not what the googlies/yorkers/bouncers mean!!