Aajke ekta oshadharon English class korlaam. Class 12-er por ei prothom. Two hours very well spent. Shondhye ta khuub bhalo kaatlo.

Growing up with Sachin

How Tendulkar helped a generation of Indians make sense of their lives

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

December 24, 2012

 

Sachin Tendulkar has retired from one-dayers.

 

Does this mean anything to you?

 

Did you feel numb on Sunday morning? Or maybe it was Saturday night in your part of the world. Did the various stages of your life flash in your head, as they are supposed to in the instant before you die?

 

Do you remember one-dayers 23 years ago? Travel back in time. What do you see? Red leather balls, players in whites and some one-dayers in England with umpires stopping play for tea.

 

What else do you see? Doordarshan - the feed hanging this moment, back live the next, your grainy screen filled with men who sport stubbles and bushy moustaches, the camera facing the batsman one over and the bowler the next, commentators screaming "that's hit up in the air".

 

Gradually the texture changes. Coloured clothing and floodlit games become commonplace, fielding restrictions alter the definitions of a "safe total", Duckworth and Lewis appear, so do Powerplays, Supersubs and Super Overs. Pinch-hitters, a novelty for a few years, lose their sheen. Now everyone must pinch, everyone must hit.

 

Tendulkar has seen it all. Sometimes he has initiated the change, on other occasions he has adapted. A master of the game in the mid '90s, a master in 2011. The one constant in a wildly changing format. He was around when one-dayers were blooming, he was also around when they were allegedly dying.

 

You have been around too. Are you a kid from the '80s? Or the '90s? Or are you a straddler, part of the Tendulkar generation that has one feet in both decades?

 

Ah, you stand on the threshold. You have experienced Doordarshan before leaping to the riches of satellite, you have seen Shah Rukh Khan as a fauji on TV before he soared onto the silver screen, you know of life before the internet but are quick to embrace the wonders of technology, you have watched monochrome but are a child of the colour TV age.

 

What else do you see?

 

Tendulkar in a white helmet, his white shirt unbuttoned to his thorax, blitzing Abdul Qadir in an exhibition game in Peshawar. Until that point cricket is merely a fuzzy idea. Tendulkar gives it shape, adds meaning, wraps it in colourful paper and winds a ribbon around the packing. He makes you understand the game's place in your life, teaches you its significance.

You grapple, trying to swerve banana out-swingers with a tennis ball. Standing in front of a mirror, you imagine the opposition needing six off the last over. The stadium is a cauldron. A hundred thousand fill the stands. Can you restrict the batsmen?

 

One morning in 1994, when large parts of India slept, you awake to life and freedom. What a rebellion at Auckland. Eighty-two off 49 balls. A cameo that unshackles the mind. The greatest one-day innings you have seen. Can anyone better this?

 

You are carried along the Tendulkar slipstream. When he is stumped off Mark Waugh, after illuminating the Mumbai sky, you sense the game will slip away. It does. A few days later his hundred against Sri Lanka in Delhi ends in defeat - the first Tendulkar ton in vain. You hope it's an aberration. You wish.

 

You observe his every move. In 1996, when he fires a swinging yorker to dismiss Saqlain in Sharjah and sends him off with an emphatic "f**k off", you blush. Four years later your vocabulary has expanded. When he mouths off Glenn McGrath in the Champions Trophy in Nairobi, you puff your chest, as if vindicated.

 

It's 1998, a time for decisions. Academics or sports? Arts or science? Biology or computers? To meet her or to continue with phone conversations? To buy a copy of Debonair or to take a sneak-peek? These are the burning questions that occupy you.

 

Do they matter? Tendulkar is dismantling Fleming, Warne and Kasprowicz in Sharjah. A desert storm, a birthday hundred and a ballistic Tony Greig. A straight six off Warne when he starts around the wicket. Another straight six off Kasprowicz. "Whaddaplayaa," screeches Greig. It imprints itself in your head.

 

In your inconsequential gully matches you bat with an amped-up ferocity. You nod to tell the bowler you are ready, you hold your pose during the follow-through, you reverse-sweep and attempt straight-bat paddles. You pump your fist when Tendulkar manhandles Henry Olonga in Sharjah.

 

You start college. You are ragged, often with little imagination. Some of the courses don't interest you. Many of your classmates speak about things you have never heard of, in languages you are not fluent in.

 

You are sipping tea in the canteen when someone switches on a television set. India are playing Namibia in the World Cup. You find your bearings. This is a familiar world. Tendulkar is nearing a century. This is your comfort zone. The next 10 days are some of the most joyous of your life. That six off Caddick, those fours of Akram and Shoaib ... you feel you have turned a corner.

 

You hate your job. You begin to care for little other than your pay-cheque. This is not what you expected when you graduated. You assumed this job would be interesting. How wrong you were. Tendulkar is still at it, obsessed with his craft. Despite a lean patch, he says he must go on. He knows no other way.

 

You are engaged, then married. Life gets busier: an apartment, a car, daily chores. Tendulkar is brutalising Brett Lee in Sydney. An uppish cover drive, then a bullet past the bowler. Lee offers an angelic smile, Tendulkar stands still, zen-like, unconcerned about the past or the future, immersed in the present.

 

You switch jobs. You like your new role but your boss sucks. He is a slave-driver. You take sly peeks at a live scorecard tab that is open at your desktop as India chase Australia's 351 at Hyderabad. Tendulkar is flying but there is no TV. You wish you could get back home but what if he gets out when you are on your way? Would you be able to forgive yourself? India lose. You call out sick the next day.

 

You relocate abroad. Cricket matches are on a different time zone. You scavenge illegal internet streams, slap your head when the feed hangs. You are reminded of your days of watching Doordarshan. The sun is yet to rise outside your apartment, and Tendulkar is batting in the 190s against South Africa in Gwalior. Cricinfo is hanging. Cricinfo didn't even exist when Tendulkar started. Your twitter feed is on valium. He has reached 200.

 

You watch every ball of India's World Cup campaign. How could you not? A hundred in Bangalore, a hundred in Nagpur. You suffer palpitations in Mohali. Then the eruption in Mumbai. Kohli raises him aloft and talks of Tendulkar's burden. He speaks for you. He understands how you feel. There are tears everywhere, including on your cheeks.

 

Here's John Steinbeck in Cannery Row:

Someone should write an erudite essay on the moral, physical and aesthetic effect of the Model T Ford on the American Nation. Two generations of Americans knew more about the Ford coil than the clitoris, about the planetary system of gears than solar system of of stars ... Most of the babies of the period were conceived in Model T Fords and not a few of them were born in them ...

You can apply the same to your generation. To understand us is to take into account the moral, physical and aesthetic effect of Tendulkar. To feel your pain, when he retires from a format he made his own, is to know what it means to grow up with him.

 

You are the lucky ones. Cherish the memories. He was, and will remain, your Model T.

'Sach' is life..

Full name: Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar

Born: April 24, 1973 in Bombay, Maharashtra
Current age: 39 years 243 days
Major teams: India, Asia XI, Mumbai, Mumbai Indians, Yorkshire
Nicknames: God, SRT, Tendlya, Little Master, Master Blaster, Batting Maestro
Playing role: Top order batsman
Batting style: Right-hand bat
Bowling style: Right-arm offbreak, legbreak, googly
Height: 5 feet 5 inches

463 ODIs (452 Inings), 18426 runs (Avg. of 44.83 & S/R of 86.24) with 2016 fours & 195 sixes, highest score – 200*, 49 centuries, 96 fifties, 140 catches, 154 wickets (ER: 5.10) with best figures of 32/5 [all of this achieved across 90 different grounds across the world]

 ***************************************************************

He made his debut on December 18, 1989, as a 16-year-old against Pakistan. He played his last ODI on March 18, 2012, also against Pakistan in the Asia Cup.

His last ODI hundred came in the Asia Cup in Bangladesh in March 2012, a feat that completed an unprecedented 100 international tons (across all formats).

He has opened Batting 340 times in ODI cricket, a record.

First player to reach 10,000-11,000-12,000-13,000-14,000-15,000, 16,000 and 17,000, 18,000 ODI runs. Only player to score 5, 150+ (186*, 152, 163*, 175 and 200*) scores in ODI cricket.

He  has scored 1,000 or more ODI runs in a calendar year a record seven times - 1994, 1996, 1997, 1998, 2000, 2003 and 2007. His tally of 1894 runs in 1998 is a record for the highest number of ODI runs by anyone in a calendar year. Also his 9 ODI centuries in the same year is also a record for the highest number of ODI centuries recorded by anyone in a calendar year.

He has the most Man of the Match Awards (62) and the most Man of the Series Awards (15) in the history of ODI cricket.

Most Runs (2120), Most Fifties (13), Most Hundreds (6), Highest Partnership runs for 3rd wicket (237, with Rahul Dravid) in World Cup cricket. He was the Man of the Tournament in the 2003 ICC World Cup, in which he scored 673 runs (the highest by any player in any World Cup).

****************************************************************

So, the greatest ODI batsman India (and arguably, the world) has ever seen will not get to 20,000 ODI runs. Nor will he get to his 50^th ODI century. The many who wanted him to roll back the years and still be around when the 2015 ICC World Cup came around will be disappointed. Pakistan, who are just about to embark on an ODI series against India, will be happy to not have to bowl to him. The growing number of people who have been calling for his head will be happy to see him go. Cricket, though, both Indian and of the world, has been left with a gigantic hole.

His statement (released by the BCCI on the morning of 23.12.2012) read, "I have decided to retire from the One Day format of the game. I feel blessed to have fulfilled the dream of being part of a World Cup wining Indian team. The preparatory process to defend the World Cup in 2015 should begin early and in right earnest. I would like to wish the team all the very best for the future. I am eternally grateful to all my well wishers for their unconditional support and love over the years." Sachin Tendulkar, perhaps the most-worshipped cricketer of all-time, will not pad up for India in ODIs again. Many, including myself, were somewhat puzzled when he did not retire after winning the 2011 ICC World Cup, simply because it seemed as if he had nothing left to achieve in this format. Yet, the batting legend has always maintained that he will go on playing as long as he enjoys the game, and he now goes on his own terms. It is strange to think.. no, to know.. that the name ‘Tendulkar’ will never again appear on an ODI scorecard for India.

 

 For as long as I have followed the Indian team (& cricket in general), SRT has been a constant figure in the sea of change. Questions have been raised – about his big-match-situation performances, about his captaincy, about his match-winning abilities, about his supposed lack-of-sportsmanship, about his unwillingness to retire & so on & so forth – but Sachin has always let his bat do the talking. 23 years is one hell of a long time..

 Comparisons have always been part & parcel of any & all sports, & many are of the opinion that Dada’s contribution to Indian cricket is bigger than Sachin’s. To me, while Dada is without a shadow of doubt the better leader among the two, there is no comparison when it comes to their batting – Sachin is head & shoulders above & beyond the southpaw, be it in Tests, ODIs or IPL. On who was more inspirational of the two, it’s a difficult question to address simply because of the drastically contrasting styles of the two – Dada’s in-your-face aggression to Sachin’s subdued stay-in-the-background approach.

They say a hero is immortal only until he dies. R.I.P. the immortal Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, veteran of 463 ODIs and World Cup-winner. To say that you will be missed would be the biggest understatement in the history of understatements.. A true champion and one of the last of the gentlemen cricketers has just left the building. Thank you for all the memories..

A large part of the cricket-fan in me died today morning. Maybe the world should indeed have ended on 21.12.2012.

 

unnamed

“Dilon mein tum apni betaabiyan leke chal rahein ho, toh zinda ho tum..
Nazar mein khwaabon ki bijliyan leke chal rahein ho, toh zinda ho tum..

Hawa k jhokon k jaise aazad rehna seekho -
Tum ek dariya k jaise lehron mein behna seekho..
Har ek lamhe se tum milo khole apni baahein,
Har ek pal ek naya samaa dekhe nigahein..

Jo apni aankhon mein hayraniyan leke chal rahein ho, toh zinda ho tum -
Dilon mein tum apni betaabiyan leke chal rahein ho, toh zinda ho tum…”


Yours is the language of the smile.. one that be comprehended by all..
and mine.. mine is the madness of the pen.. tending to this social circus’ curtain-call..
May the odds be ever in your favour, and may that smile never die..
And if you struggle to find a reason, let me be the reason for a while..

I give you a balconyful of moonlight and buckets of starlit evenings,

and skies of rain to stream down your cupped hands..
May you hold them close, as the emotions stir & swim inside you –
May they be the contours of your happiness, may you always do what your heart demands..

Toke dilaam shokaal byala’r shishir-bheja ghaash,

Tokei dilaam sheet-er diin-er unun ghyasha aanch..
Tui nili prothom brishti’r diin-er shobuj-ronga paata –
R tor jonnoi ei onek kotha olpe’r moddhye bola ei kobita..

Jodi toke r ektu kom shundor dekhte hotoh,

r tor haashi-ta r ektu kom dushtu hotoh,
Tahole hoytoh ei kobita’r tui r aashol tui ekii hotoh..


Nahole, tor nikhhut chhobi aankte boshe emon shahosh kaar?
Toke niiye kobita lekhar aashpordhaa khoma korish aamar...

 

Note to myself

You.. Yes, YOU! I'm talking to you, Arindam.. and to Ankan, Mimoh, Gaju, Piklu, Babai, Mithai and all those who live within you..

You remember "A tale of two beauties.."? Yes, that is how deep you'd fallen in love with her. And you know how much that hurt you in the end, how much it made you want to just stop living.. Remember. ALWAYS.

A Letter

A letter written six years back.. or maybe five and a half.. a letter that was forgotten, hiding in the black-text-on-white-MS word-document on my personal laptop forever.. Came across it today as I was going through some of my old writings, looking for something else.. Was telling a friend how I almost cannot believe how deep into my heart I had delved into back in those days.. I think I can put it up now; it's part of the letting go, I guess..

Hey.

I guess I’m not, by nature, one of those who shares feelings easily. It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s more so that I cannot. And the times I’ve tried to, I’ve found it undoable. It’s not always easy for me to explain, even to you – one of the people I consider closest to me, the complexity of my feelings and the depth of my reaction to certain experiences. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to you straight about the random stuff I was hearing. You know, because I couldn’t talk to you and it was all getting stuffed and hot between my ears, I quit asking people stories about the trip to Dooars.. Believe me if you will, but the fact of the matter is that I was really, really stretched thin and yet not for a moment did I actually believe any of the stuff I was hearing.. 

Remember the SMS I had sent you pleading you to inform me at least when you started liking a guy as more than a friend ? Well, that’s about as close as I could come to talking to you about it.. That is, until yesterday.. when I felt like my head was about to explode and finish me off for good.. Might not have been so bad, it appears in hindsight. All I could so for the last I-don’t-know-how-many-days was hope.. Hope..

There was this feeling of helplessness.. Like a fear that decisions – decisions that would render me unable to function normally ever again – were being made in my absence, that not everything that I wanted to know, NEEDED to know, was being made known to me.. and yet I dreaded knowing them.. One of the reasons I can never manage to ask you thing about your.. love life, so to speak.. is because I am mortally scared of what the answer might do to me.. Yes, I know I’m a weakling, but that’s just the way it is.. And you’ve never done anything specific to make me feel this way; it’s just the way I am.. Also, keeping in line with what I said in the SMSs, I’ve always kind of had this feeling that I’m downright lucky to have found someone like you.. and that it was wonderful enough to me that I could make you laugh and spend time with you and.. I’ve just never thought that I had any right whatsoever of asking you personal stuff.. and when I have, it’s taken a lot of courage or a hasty, desperate impulse.. Like when I was in ****** and heard about the ***** incident and subsequently asked you about it over SMS.. I typed, erased and re-typed that SMS about ten times before I could not take it anymore and sent it.. It’s like I’ve always felt that you weren’t as such answerable to me.. I mean, really, who was I ? A friend, yes.. but nothing more.. Heck, I myself don’t consider myself answerable to all my friends! Why should you be any different, I thought.. Maybe you’d feel I was trying to invade your privacy.. It’s not your fault, I repeat. It’s the sad creature I am..

There is also a reluctance to be thought a complainer. I mean, how many times have I sort of complained about this issue? I myself don’t know.. I feel an ocean times of what I say and I think I’ve managed to say my grievance quite a few times.. There is the feeling of a lack in confidence, the subconscious feeling that perhaps my thoughts are a manifestation of my own inadequacy… There is the conflict between the terror of eternal loneliness and the desire to be left alone.. I’ve kept these feelings dormant inside of me for I don’t know how long.. I guess they don’t matter.. because this isn’t about me, really.. It’s about you. Look, I just wanted you to know that I really, really thought that I was losing you.. And it hurt.. so much.. You’re possibly true when you say that I’m hurting myself, but it appears that I’ve developed quite a liking to it.. Maybe I’ll grow prone to it one day.. I’ve told myself that the inevitable must be faced and accepted; perhaps not with dignity, but accepted all the same.. that one day I will lose you.. that one day I will become like the man who comes back from a tiring ordeal far, far away and finds no one waiting for him at the airport.. It’s just taking a rather long time.. But I’ll keep going at it..

I hope I’ve got across to you. Thank you for reading this through. Take Care.

To a prolific run-scorer, and the man I detested

168 Test matches, over 13000 runs in the format, with an average in the higher 50s and a joint-record of 16 consecutive victories in Test matches (although he did lose three Ashes series, a dubious distinction that he’s the only Australian captain to be in possession of). 375 ODIs, yet another 13000+ runs, with an average in the lower 40s and three World Cups in his extensive CV. 17 T20 Internationals, 400 odd runs, with a SR of 132.78. A combined tally of 71 centuries in International cricket (2779 boundaries and 246 over-boundaries) in all formats, across continents and against varying opponents. Add to that his fantastic fielding (there really should be some sort of ICC-recognized system for calculating the runs saved by each player in the field; he would surely have been a frontrunner in that record book), especially in the slip cordon and at cover (364 catches in total), and there remains no doubt that the retiring almost 38-year-old Tasmania-born Ricky Thomas Ponting is no doubt an Australian cricket legend (he only sits below the great Donald George Bradman in his country’s overall ratings) and one of the most prolific and consistent run-scorers the world of cricket has ever seen.

 

Is that all that one defines a sportsperson, you wonder.. Will the fact that he assured the umpire that Sourav Ganguly was caught cleanly, when it was evident that the ball had been grassed and Michael Clarke – the fielder who took the catch – himself was unsure (Gavaskar said on air “Why is Mr. Benson asking a person who didn't walk off when he was caught behind at 14, and it couldn't be possible that you are lying when you are batting and true while you are fielding. That is nonsense! Utter nonsense! I am sorry Mr. Benson, you got it all wrong.”), be remembered by anyone?

 

Notwithstanding the many victories that his team achieved during his tenure at the top, Ponting’s achievements as the captain of the Australian national cricket team has also been questioned – a common belief is that he stood on the shoulders of giants such as McGrath, Warne, Lee, Hayden, Langer, Gilchrist, Symonds and only then could he reach for the stars.

 

I enjoyed thoroughly every time an Australian team led by him was defeated, more so on the biggest stages (T20 World Cup, ICC World Cup, the Ashes, the Border-Gavaskar trophy, etc.) anywhere, and by any team whatsoever. Punter’s definition of “The Spirit of the Game” was to do whatever it took to get a decision in his favour and then define it as the ‘Aussie competitive spirit’, and I admit it was marvelous to see him sledge, cheat and lose.

 

Your aggressive batting (the best shot of which was undoubtedly the perfectly-controlled pulls of both the front and back feet) will be missed, but your attitude won’t.

"Yeh zindagi joh aaj -
tumhari badan ki chhoti-badi nason mein machal rahi hain,
tumhari lafzon mein dhal rahin hain..
Badalti shaklon, badalti jismon mein chalta-phirta woh sharara
yeh ghadi jo naam hain tumhara..
issi se saari chahal phehle, issi se roshan hain har nazara..
Sitaare todo ya ghar basao, kalam uthao -
tumhari aankon ki roshni taley yeh khel saara..
yeh khel nahin hoga dobara, yeh khel nahin hoga dobara.."

Dedicated to more than one person. End of all the stories.

"Life of Pi"

Go watch Ang Lee’s “Life of Pi”. In 3D. As soon as possible.

In what is an absolute extravaganza for the eyes, the treatment takes an otherwise difficult-to-believe story and turns it into a testament to desperation and bravery in equal measure. All the actors playing the different ages of Piscine Molitor (or “Pi”, as he will tell you) Patel do justice to the character; goes without saying, it’s the actor playing the Pi-stuck-in-the-lifeboat (Suraj Sharma) who delivers the most stellar performance. Irrfan Khan and Tabu are both as good as ever, and so is the actor who plays Pi’s father (NSD-alumni Adil Hussain).

For tiger-lovers, Richard Parker’s magnificence cannot be put into words - he is fiercely terrifying in some scenes and grudgingly submissive in some others, almost-humanely wistful in a few, majestically enthralling in every.

 

 

That said, Ang Lee’s subtle additions to and subtractions from the original script (and by original I mean Yann Martel’s book by the same name) are wonderfully easy on the eye and do nothing but add to the overall viewing experience. The parts of the film shot in India are exquisite, the special effects are mind-blowing (watch out for the scene with the jellyfish and the whale) and I have neither the courage nor the words to even begin to try to describe the brutal beauty of thunderstorm-at-sea that changes Pi’s life forever.

 

 

 

p.s. I had missed out on watching Cameron’s “Avatar” on 3D, but this one did somewhat make up for it. Yes, it’s that good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I do NOT believe this.. True story, though.

...

Me: Oh shut up.. You’re crazy! You think I look like Bhagat Singh! :O :D Even if that is a joke, it’s crazy!

Her: bhagat singh is handsome :)

Me: Yes, precisely. I am nowhere near the great Mr. singh.

Her: u r handsome

           u r blind

Me: No. But it seems that you are. :D

Her: beauty is in the eye of the beholder

           so lemme decide that :(

           u underestimate yourself

Something to think about..

Maa shediin bolchhilo j aamader motoh shohure bacchader naki kono chhotobela nei. Diwali’r diin bolchhilo. Aami chhotobelaay baaji phatataam, ekhon r phaatai na. Mone hoy ekguccho taaka puriiye (quite literally, too) ki hobe ? Taar cheye borong oi taaka diiye ekta duto bhalo second hand boi kinte paarbo.. Kintu sheta onno proshongo. Maa bolchilo j maa-maashira jokhon chhoto chhilo, tokhon o’ra oder graam-a kali pujo te khub moja kortoh.. Kaali pujo’r onek diin aage thekei maa’ra paat-kaathi jomiiye raakhtoh, r oi diin shondhe-belaay ek haat-a ekta jolontoh paat-kaathi o onno haate arekta emni niiye shara paara chhute beratoh.. Jolte thaka paat-kathi ta jokhon nibhu-nibhu, tokhon oi aagun thekei onno ta dhoriiye niiye aabar dour.. Otai oder kaachhe baaji-porano.. Kotoh kom-ei manush-er mon khushi hotey pare, tai na ? R aamader khali chhai r chaai.. R noy..

"Ckaravyuh" - a review

Watched Prakash Jha's "Chakravyuh" today. Good movie, with strong performances from Rampal, Abhay Deol, Manoj Bajpayee and particularly from Anjali Patil. Loved the way the movie ended - so different from the preachy endings that one sees. The overall storyline along the lines of "There’s a storm coming, Mr. Wayne. ..when it hits you’re all gonna wonder how you ever thought you could live so large and leave so little to the rest of us." is refreshing in the sense that it does not outrightly condemn the Maoists/Naxalities agenda; instead it tries to give an insight into how things are and the factors at play.

Review of "The Roger Federer story: Quest for perfection"

Nobody expected greatness from Roger Federer—even in Switzerland. When he first appeared on the scene, he was overshadowed by the success of Hingis, who just became a major force in women’s tennis. When he was on his way to becoming the world’s best junior, Hingis, his senior by just 312 days, was already at her zenith. She won three of the four Grand Slam tournaments in 1997 and took center stage—especially in Switzerland. Why should one be at all concerned about Federer, a talented junior with an uncertain future, when Switzerland had the current No. 1 ranked woman in the world?

This book chronicles the life and times of (The Great) Roger Federer, taking off right from when he was a little Swiss kid dabbling in tennis & football (& a variety of other ball sports), paying a lot of attention to his formative years (you know, an angry-young-man’s-racquet-smashing days) and finally landing in his glory days (when he became the Champion that he is, with the tennis world lying conquered at his nimble feet).

“One should just be able to play a perfect game.” (- said by a 15-year-old Federer) Playing a perfect game—that’s what motivated him. He didn’t want to just defeat opponents and win trophies, even if he liked the idea of becoming rich and famous or both, as he admitted. For him, instinctively, the journey was the reward and the journey involved hitting and placing balls with his racquet as perfectly as possible. He seemed to be obsessed with this, which would explain why he could become frustrated even after winning points. He didn’t want to dominate his opponent in this rectangle with the net that fascinated him—he wanted to dominate the ball that he both hated and loved.

Stauffer’s book also contains jems like -

“He has so much potential that it sometimes confuses even himself,” said John McEnroe, himself, a one-time artist with the tennis ball. (towards the end of 2000)

 The New York Post meanwhile called out any critics who insisted that Federer’s dominance of the sport could make tennis boring. The tabloid wrote in 2005 that “Roger Federer can win eight of the next 10 Slam finals, reach the semifinals of all the rest, and if Who and When at every tournament becomes inevitable, the How will remain captivating. We will watch it, in mesmerized fatalism.”

The only thing that can perhaps be called a let-downer in this book is that fact that it portrays Federer’s tennis career only till the end of 2006, but then again considering that that is when the book was penned, it’s unrealistic to expect more.

We however, the till-death-do-us-part fans of the immortal Roger Federer, know that our Champion will always keep us going “How on earth does he do that?” every time he pulls off one of those miraculous stokes of genius that only he can pull off. And make it look ridiculously easy at that.

After all, as the legendary Jimmy Connors said to the BBC in 2006, “[In the modern game], you’re a clay court specialist, a grass court specialist or a hard court specialist ... or you’re Roger Federer.”

...

"Life is busy, times are demanding, yet dear ones need to be wished. Last few years you sent your close one a birthday ecard on October 8.

However, this year we feel you have somehow missed to schedule an ecard. It only takes you few seconds to wish someone a Happy Birthday and make their day bright. Why not try this year too!

Act now to wish _____________"

Well, I did send her the eCard, the woman with the most beautiful eyes in the history of the Universe.. So, that's that, I guess.

My TransStadia colleague Nishant (Raut) was talking of this view that had been expressed in an article he had read.. He (the author of said article) felt that M.K. Gandhi was the reason we see so much of the law-defying attitude in present-day Indians. It was Gandhi who had taught our forefathers to not arm themselves yet to defy the laws (the laws of the British Raj, i.e.), and such is why we see such in-your-face defiance to laws today..

Please ghoom hoye jaao chokh-e,
aamar monn kharap-er raate..

Sometimes, it's too much to expect to be accepted as who I truly am. Even to those closest to me. The funny thing is, it's not the first time I've realized this; nor will it be the last time. Nevertheless, I will not change. I will not close my eyes and pretend to be blind, because I can see.. Can you hear that? I can SEE..

".. People think a soul mate is your perfect fir, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. ... You're like a dog at the dump, baby - you're just lickin' at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you're not careful, that can's gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. So drop it.

... You gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughtta be."

Finally.. after years of wait, it seems.. the Kindle has come home..

Study material for work!

"Home is not a consumable entity. You can’t go home by eating certain foods, by replaying its films on your television screen. At some point you have to live there again. The dream of return had to be brought into the daylight sooner or later."

- 'Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found', Suketu Mehta

Novak Djokovic, Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer, and now.. Andy Murray.. When was the last time there were different champions at all the Slams? Back in 2003, it was – the great Roger Federer’s coming-of-age year – when Agassi, Ferrero, Federer and Roddick had shared the spoils across the four surfaces.. Well played, Andy.. Roger, we want the No. 18 next year..and more!

                     

Saw something funny today. Odd, too. A big, fat rat - and I mean really big - chasing a squirrel on a wall! The poor squirrel was running for its life! Fortunately, there was a tree right alongside the wall and it managed to climb its way to safety.. The rat must have felt gutted though..

  

Music in my head..

Music, I think, is the cheapest airline. When I hum Bengali songs to myself, I can almost see Kolkata right in front of my eyes, and any time now Maa will come into the room with a smile..

Out this December - "The Style Diary of a Bollywood Diva" by Kareena Kapoor [Penguin Books India]

Even Kareena Kapoor is supposedly writing books now! 

                               

And being published by the publishing house that comes out with Pamuk, Ruskin Bond, Sudha Murty, Omair Ahmad et cetera. I guess when you have money, getiing freelance writers to compose even as much as a book and calling it your own is only a matter of time.. But really, what a waste of paper.. pages and pages of bullsh*t.. Pity the people who plan to buy the book..

 The thing is, I guess, that whichever topic a book by Kareena Kapoor would be on, it would no doubt be originally written by someone else. Now, if the topic is something that is even remotely non-trivial, she won't have anything to say when asked about her book, because of course someone like her has not the slightest intelligence, interest or knowledge about it. On the other hand, if the book is about 'style', she could mouth replies to the press, regardless of whoever has written the book.. At the end of the day, though, it's all a piece of cr*p.

"You might be a Zombie and other bad news"!

THE dedication..

and an excerpt of a particularly interesting part..

FIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPERIMENTS THAT PROVE HUMANITY IS DOOMED

YOU have to be careful when you go poking around the human mind, because you can’t be sure what you’ll find there. A number of psychological experiments over the years have yielded terrifying conclusions, not about the occasional psychopath, but about you.

5. THE GOOD SAMARITAN EXPERIMENT (1973)

The setup

 Naming their study after the biblical story in which a Samaritan helps an enemy in need, psychologists John Darley and C. Daniel Batson wanted to test if religion has any effect on helpful behavior. So they gathered a group of seminary students and asked half of them to deliver a sermon about the Good Samaritan in another building. The other half were told to give a speech about job opportunities, and members of both groups were given varying amounts of time to prepare and get

across campus to deliver their sermons, ensuring some students were in more of a hurry when heading to deliver the good news. On the way to give their speech, the subjects would pass a person slumped in an alleyway, who looked to be in need of help.

The people who had been studying the Good Samaritan story did not stop any more often than the ones preparing a speech on job opportunities. The only factor that made a difference was how much of a hurry the students were in.

If pressed for time, only 10 percent would stop to give any aid, even when they were on their way to give a sermon about how awesome it is to stop and give aid.

What this says about you

As much as we like to make fun of anti-gay congressmen who get caught gaying it up in a men’s bathroom, the truth is that we’re just as likely to be hypocrites. After all, it’s much easier to talk to a room full of people about helping strangers than, say, to actually touch a bleeding homeless man.

And in case you thought these results were restricted to seminary students, in 2004 a BBC article reported on some disturbing footage captured by the camera of a parked public bus. In the tape, an injured twenty-five-year-old woman lies bleeding profusely in a London road, while dozens of passing motorists swerve to avoid her, without stopping. To be fair, the report doesn’t mention if there was anything good on TV that night, so they might have had somewhere really important to be.

4. THE STANFORD PRISON EXPERIMENT (1971)

The setup

You may have heard of the Stanford Prison Experiment, in which psychologist Philip Zimbardo transformed the Stanford Psychology Department’s basement into a mock prison. But you probably didn’t know just how ashamed it should make you to be a human being.

Seventy young men responded to a newspaper ad soliciting volunteers for an experiment. Zimbardo then gave each volunteer a test to evaluate their health and mental stability, and divided the most stable men arbitrarily into twelve guards and twelve prisoners. Zimbardo wanted to test how captivity affects subjects put in positions of authority and submission. The simulation was planned to run for two weeks.

The result

It took less than one day for every subject to go crazier than a shit-house rat. On day two, prisoners staged a riot and barricaded their cells with their beds. The guards saw this as a pretty good excuse to start squirting fire extinguishers at the insurgents because, hey, why not? The Stanford prison continued to ricochet around in hell for a while. Guards began forcing inmates to sleep naked on the concrete, restricting bathroom use, making prisoners do humiliating exercises and clean toilets with their bare hands. Incredibly, it never occurred to participants to simply ask to be let out of the damned experiment, even though they had absolutely no legal reason to be imprisoned.

Over fifty outsiders stopped to observe the simulation, but the morality of the trial was never questioned until Zimbardo’s girlfriend, Christina Maslach, strongly objected. After six days, Zimbardo put a halt to the experiment.

What this says about you

Ever been harassed by a cop who acted like a complete douche bag for no reason? The Stanford Prison Experiment indicates that if the roles were reversed, you’d likely act the same way.

As it turns out, it’s usually fear of repercussion that keeps us from torturing our fellow human beings. Give us absolute power and a blank check from our superiors, and Abu Ghraib- style naked pyramids are sure to follow. If it can happen to the sanest 35 percent of a group of hippie college students, it sure as hell could happen to you.

3. BYSTANDER APATHY EXPERIMENT (1968)

The setup

When a woman was murdered in 1964, the New York Times reported that thirty-eight people had heard or seen the attack but did nothing. John Darley and Bibb Latane wanted to know if the fact that these people were in a large group played any role in the reluctance to come to the victim’s aid.

The psychologists invited a group of volunteers to an “extremely personal” discussion and separated them into different rooms with intercoms, purportedly to protect anonymity.

During the conversation, one of the members would fake an epileptic seizure. We’re not sure how they conveyed, via intercom, that what was happening was a seizure, but we’re assuming the words, “Wow this is quite an epileptic seizure I’m having,” were uttered.

The result

When subjects believed that they were the only other person in the discussion, 85 percent were heroic enough to leave the room and seek help once the seizure started. This makes sense. Having an extremely personal conversation is difficult enough, but being forced to continue to carry on the conversation alone is just sad.

However, when the experiment was altered so that subjects believed four other people were in the discussion, only 31 percent went to look for help once the seizure began. The rest assumed someone else would take care of it.

What this says about you

Obviously if there’s an emergency and you’re the only one around, the pressure to help increases massively since you feel 100 percent responsible. But when you’re with ten other people, you feel approximately 10 percent as responsible. Problem: so does everybody else.

This sheds some light on our previous examples. Maybe the drivers who swerved around the injured woman in the road would have stopped if they’d been alone on a deserted highway. Then again, maybe they’d be even more likely to abandon her since nobody was watching.

We just need the slightest excuse to do nothing.

2. THE ASCH CONFORMITY EXPERIMENT (1953)

The setup

Solomon Asch wanted to run studies to document the power of conformity, for the purpose of depressing everyone who would ever read the results. Subjects were told they’d be taking part in a vision test. They were shown a line, and then several lines of varying sizes to the right of the first line. All they had to do was say which line on the right matched the original. The answer was objectively obvious.

                The catch was that everybody in the room other than one subject had been instructed to give the same obviously wrong answer. Would the subject go against the crowd when the

crowd was clearly wrong?

The result

If three others in the classroom gave the same wrong answer, even when the line was plainly off by several inches, one in three subjects would follow the group right off the proverbial cliff.

               

What this says about you

Imagine how much that figure inflates when the answers are less black and white. We all laugh with the group even when we don’t get the joke or doubt our opinion when we realize it’s unpopular.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m a rebellious nonconformist,” you might say. Of course, once you

decide to be a nonconformist the next step is to find out what the other nonconformists are doing and make sure you’re nonconforming correctly.

                1. MILGRAM (1961) AND MILGRAM 2 (1972): ELECTRICBOOGALOO

The setup

At the Nuremberg trials, many of the Nazis tried to excuse their behavior by claiming they were just following orders. So in 1961, Yale University psychologist Stanley Milgram conducted the infamous Milgram Experiment, testing subjects’ willingness to obey an authority figure.

Each subject was told they were a “teacher” and that their job was to give a memory test to a man (actually an actor) located in another room. Subjects were told that whenever the other guy gave an incorrect answer, they were to press a button that would give him an electric shock.

As far as the subjects knew, the shocks were real, starting at 45 volts and increasing with every wrong answer. Each time they pushed the button, the actor would scream and beg for the subject to stop.

The result

Many subjects began to feel uncomfortable after a certain point and questioned continuing the experiment. However, each time a guy in a lab coat encouraged them to continue, most subjects followed orders, delivering shocks of higher and higher voltage despite the victims’ screams.

Eventually, the actor would start banging on the wall that separated him from the subject, pleading about his heart condition. After further shocks, all sounds from the victim’s room would cease, indicating he was dead or unconscious. Take a guess, what percentage of the subjects kept delivering shocks after that point?

Between 61 and 66 percent of subjects continued the experiment until it reached the maximum voltage of 450, continuing to deliver shocks after the victim had, for all they knew, been zapped into unconsciousness or the afterlife.

Most subjects wouldn’t begin to object until after 300-volt shocks. Exactly zero asked to stop the experiment before that point (pro tip in case you’re ever faced with a similar dilemma: Under the right circumstances 110-230 volts is enough to kill a man).

                The Milgram Experiment immediately became famous for what it implied about humanity’s capacity for evil. But by 1972, some of his colleagues decided that Milgram’s subjects must have known the actor was faking. In an attempt to disprove his findings, Charles Sheridan and Richard King took the experiment a step further, asking subjects to shock a puppy every time it disobeyed an order. Unlike Milgram’s experiment, this shock was real. Exactly twenty out of twenty-six subjects went to the highest voltage.

What this says about you

Almost 80 percent. Think about that when you’re at the mall: Eight out of ten of the people you see would torture the shit out of a puppy if a dude in a lab coat asked them to. And there’s a good chance you would too.