good bye 2011....

Time goes on. So does life. Yesterday is history for today; so is today for tomorrow. And there are only two kinds of people who live in this world- the optimists and the pessimists. They say optimists never look back in their voyage. And those who try to linger on the past are deemed a Pessimist or someone who just runs out of clues in facing life. Strange world this!! C’est la vie:/

Does laughter, tear, joy, sorrow, the parameters that defined our yesterdays become just part of our history? Doesn’t they have a part to play in redefining our lives, make us better individuals and more importantly, ensure better tomorrows?

As we look back to the 2011, the events that shaped our personalities, the experiences that tested our resolves, the laughter, tear, joy and sorrow that life threw at us, one thing fascinated me; We are not the same that we were 365 days back and we won’t be after 365 days. Because there is one aspect that I love the most. Our birthdays which is an indication that we do grow as an individual. We move on.

So, how was 2011? All I can say( with a personal stamp) that 2011 has moved on faster like any other. In fact the last new year’s party with all the booze and puff might just seem like a last night show. It is at that frenetic pace with which life has progressed.

 New lives sprung to life. Few departed. New relations sprung in. Few hearts were broken. New stories were scripted. Few were turned into a biopic. New promises were made. Few were broken. New milestones were set. Few problems erupted. Some found their lives at crossroads while some had a smooth sailing. Fame and money knocked the doorsteps for some overnight while some continue to reel in this world dominated by the dollar.

There were News makers in plenty. They were thrown up from nowhere. This year marked the end of the Osama era, finally putting an end to the longest ever hide and seek game. Economies stumbled. Jobs bade adieu to the world, so too were a long list of celebrities. Sports threw up national heroes. But this was the year of the *PROTESTOR*, the middle class, often unheard, took to the streets. Yes, the sun didn’t set in some parts of the globe.

As I write this piece, numerous never-to-be-followed New year resolutions would be doing the final rounds of editing, glamourous calendar photo shoots would have been completed, Casinos and Cruise ships in Macau and San Marino(with some help from fashionTV) would be completely engrossed in preparing for the ultimate New Year Bash and yeah, the jingles too would have started.

Time to say good bye to 2011. Time to pass on the baton.                    

The journey continues. The mission continues. New things unfold. 2012 will begin with a massive hangover. It will rekindle hope, trust and love. Let us figure out what to do next with our lives. Here’s to the happy memories, new beginnings and a great year.

Make sweet love. Be trustful. Be sincere. Have a life. Enjoy every moment of it, who knows the dooms day might well be at a stone’s throw if the Mayans were right.

 We greet you 2012… be kind to us!!!! Take us through to 2013…. 

sehwag-the Pied Piper

I just love to try out weird stuffs, for I berate the things done in an old-fashioned way. Eccentricity somehow fuels me. The dare to be different carves out the *me* in me. I do not believe in dour-machine like professionalism.

Well, you can just go on with this. But the hardest part is proving it, not just believing it. The game is not over until the actions are made to do the talking. So how do you react when you see someone who has done and is doing exactly that, for not a day or two but for almost a decade. SALUTE!!!

 I am talking about D-man from Delhi- Virender Sehwag!!!!!

Easily the most destructive opener the cricketing world has seen, he has defied all the laws in striking a cricket ball; his style cannot be part of any coaching manual. I would love to see a debate on “Do all the Sehwags actually need a coaching”? Why waste time on this. It’s a straight forward *NO*.

          This piece has been in the drafts for quite a long time. I was patiently waiting for the right time to publish it, like a desert traveller waiting for oasis.   And now, the patience seems to have  bore fruits. What a time it is, as he carved out  yet another master piece. A Himalayan knock of  219 at the outdoors of  Indore , surpassing his role model in the process. An innings of touch and arrogance, it was a ruthless assault on the toothless Carribean attack. The delight of finding gaps which is the soul of his batting, was at its immaculate best. The way the balls caressed his willow will be one for the romantics to comment. The elegant square cuts that saw the balls go packing to the ropes was just poetry in motion.

          But it wasn’t always like that. Wasn’t it. Critics had doubts in plenty. Can this one-day basher excel in test matches? His feet don’t move. He lacks technique. He is bound to struggle against the moving ball. He is a one dimensional cricketer. He doesn’t have the commitment and technique to stay longer. His perform or perish theory is bullshit. These are all what they had to say. But destiny had some other plans.

Gone were his early days in the so called ‘badlands’ of Najafgarh in Delhi amidst the shepherds and snake charmers. Around him was the gritty world, the tougher world from where he dreamt of being a Sachin Tendulkar. It was in the farmlands where he practiced the art of pounding a cricket ball. The Upper Cut, the slice, the slog sweep, the inside-out chip were all the redefined versions that he scripted. From there to the thick of things in Indian cricket, the journey has been quite a fascinating one.

          A century against South Africa on debut to mark his arrival in the test arena, two breathtaking triple tons against the likes of Akhtar, Steyn and Morkel, a knock of 80 that went in vain in the world cup final of 2003, few double tons, a belligerent 195 on the opening day of Boxing day test at MCG, match saving knock of 151 against the Aussies, fastest century in only 60 balls by an Indian and now, the Indore incendiary. Add to it the famous King Pair at Birmingham, some complacent running, a shoulder which continues to be under the surgeon’s knife, sacking from the national side only because the selectors believed that he could not strike a cricket ball as good as a Wasim Jaffer or a Dinesh Karthik.

Sehwag’s approach to batting is as simple as an IIT aspirant from Kota. To go for the kill always. Be it Perth or Durban, be it against Steyn or Akhtar, be it he is on 99 or 199 or even 299. The carefree approach of not getting booed down by the situation testifies the man.

So, what is it in a Sehwag innings. Its not about his role model Sachin who tries to find a balance and later go on a brutal assault. Its not about the perfect execution  of a coaching manual that Rahul Dravid beautifully presents. Its not about the lazy elegance of a VVS Laxman that quietly makes one to feel as if he were in a Ghazal. Its all about thrill-a-minute roller-coaster ride; a 100m dash that keeps your adrenalin pumping; a Russel Peters show that you cannot miss. Its all about emphasizing on the revised theory-“ Cricket must be played to delight, to entertain, to win and not plodding, blocking and playing out a tame ‘Draw’ “. Its about mocking the basics of a sport. Its about that accolade- ‘I am-once-in-a-lifetime-cricketer’.

He is an assertion that we have moved on; from the Boycott era, from the Gavaskar era( yes the days when fans were entertained by the 36* off 174 balls) to the speed driven generation. He changed the perception of opening batsmanship, from just taking the shine off the ball to literally murdering the balls to the boundaries.

          He never drags us like a Dravid or a Lara in the fight in a crisis. His willow may disdainfully tell the opposition bowlers to ‘get-lost’ but always finds one among them to share his laughter. You may be a Sachin fan, a Ganguly fan, a Dhoni fan, but Virender Sehwag will retire as the most loved cricketer to have played for India. And quite fittingly is the Pied Piper.