COLD
For the average Indian, winter in Delhi is pretty cold,reminding us of all the late-rising, blanket wielding smugness. Anyone without the customary winter protection is viewed with awe and suspicion as if there is a mischievous trick to it.
On such a cold December morning, sometime after the winter solstice I was waiting at the Sector-18 metro station headed for Rajiv Chowk. In my mind's eye I was comparing and competing with my to-be co-passengers, over our layers of winter-wear. I had put on just a half-sweater and my pride was swelling. There was one guy with a thin looking wind-sheeter, but I over-ruled his seemingly superior austerity by imagining it to be a real good wind-sheeter and probably a woolen/silk shirt of good insulating capabilities underneath. There was one old sadhu, with a bedraggled blanket. It was quite prosaic to dismiss him. He never took a bath and had an extra layer of dirt on his body and clothes to protect him and he was more used to hardships in life. A stray limping dog on the street below was disdainfully overlooked. It had its fur, it was biologically more suited to sudden needs for acclimatization, and it had very few options. My eyes wavered and got fixated on a beautiful lady on the other platform, wearing kind of a party dress from last night. I must have turned green like the available status of gtalk. Mercifully, her husband came from nowhere (for I was too focussed with envy) and wrapped a shawl around her lovingly. She was derisively snubbed out of contention. A teenage couple were wearing those trendy hooded pullovers. Easy meat! They were no match whatsoever. Besides, they were teenagers. Their blood was still hot and they probably were in love. Next! A young stud was
wearing a woolen blazer. I figured he was not much of a stud if he had to try that hard to keep himself warm.
My train arrived a minute before the time it showed on the forecast-clock. ( Good progress my motherland ) I was pushed inside immediately after the doors opened. It felt like I had been slotted. The train started with its customary jolt and I was finally moving. The gleaming early rays of the sun washed over the sleepy city and I could feel the mornings freshness, the promise. As my eyes wandered around with a new found optimism, I saw two urchins starting off on their begging duty wearing nothing but tattered rags. It was humbling.
The classless communion
First day at school
And the class seemed full
We were taught our first lesson
in the early morning session
my mates learnt their ABC
while I learnt my OBC
School is almost over
I am a science lover
I asked my seniors for advice
and got a college of my choice
with help from a certificate
other than my matriculate
My parents wanted a doctor
but I would be an engineer
I wanted to build bridges
Over scattered plateaus and ridges
yes engineering is what I deserved
for my seat from birth was reserved
Studies over and I am a success
Wealth and position are in excess
Some People threw veiled aspersion
called me a product of reservation
All my life's labour lost
My struggle is now but a ghost
I am old and I am sick
doctors say it'll only be a week
I died with my family at my side
They prayed for me as they cried
could it be that my crematorium
was really my eluding sanatorium
In death I was desegregated
With all humanity, integrated
For once, there was no special pyre
All were burnt in the same fire
My life as I look back and see
Was a life reserved, but I died free
-------Anti Reservation-----------
Summer of 2006
I was forced twice in a day and man was it compelling !!!!!!!
How many times people have tried to predict the outcome of a cricket game and have end up putting their foot in their mouth! Sadly(actually happily) today it was my turn to jump the gun and fall flat on my chest. As they say cricket is an unpredictable game and you cannot tell the outcome of the game until the last ball is bowled. And indeed this turned out to be a game where the last but one ball mattered. I mean these are the times when you know how flimsy our level of prediction is. Our logic our calculations, our analysis of cricket have all been dismissed by one of the most courageous display of human endeavour. The game of cricket brings about character, it makes a hero out of people representing their country and I am sure every South African is a hero today. They have done the impossible, they have conquered against all odds and it was a display of pure magic which is going to be etched in our memory forever.
Today any cricket lover whichever nationality he may belong to would have watched stunned by a bewitching display of batsmanship by both the teams.
But atleast I was right about one thing. The scoreboard of this match should be kept intact by the ground personale. They should install a new scoreboard and keep aside today's scoreboard and later display it in a museum for this was truly one historic game and I believe it deserves its merit as one of the best one day games ever both for the number of runs scored and for the courage shown by the players playing it.
With this win the South Africans have probably avenged their semifinal defeat in the 1999 world cup. And this win may go down well in history as something that might change the way the game is played for ever. I am pretty much repeating the same thing over and over again but I am sure the reader won't be bored because every word will draw him/her to this day when I couldnt have made a bigger fool of myself and we were to witness this terrific fightback.
I am sure as hell God exists somewhere and this sure was nothing less than a miracle.
I was forced to write this !!
I am not very exceptional at writing but some events add an extra zing to what I pen down. Here is one such event. I hope you take some time to admire the event and the description of it ;)
"Today was a game which has overshadowed all that has happened in this fantastic year for cricket. It has made the ashes look like urchins playing cricket with a deformed bat and an unfriendly semi-round object on a pitch that could be compared to the rockies or the andes. The saurav ganguly greg chappell split has been renduced to a mere spat in a pub over some cheap wine. The juvenile ramblings of smith are now comparable to that of equally passionate rants of bongs patronizing ganguly and they are all a non issue now.
Only one thing comes to mind.
"They can speak all they can and we will play and shut them up"- ricky ponting on eve of today's match.
They sure have shut up every toddler with his broken semi-made bat trying to model a Tendulkar and fervently refusing to get out even after being clean bowled to stop cribbing over petty things and look at the next level, the real standard that they need to match or emulate.(Perhaps !!)
History will record today's score board and call it the frozen score. We needn't consider the score of the south african innings as they can only blemish the scoreboard from here on.
Starting Off!
Finally I did it. After a long arduous effort to drive me to start a blog I finally managed to drag myself to actually do it. So far so good. How regularly I am going to write directly depends upon my ability to get into a feverish inditing spree which will be rare I assure you. But most of the times it will serve as a platform to capture the specks of my fligthed imagination. Enjoy reading and do give a feedback if u like/dislike/hate or if u want to kill me for what I have written. :-)
