The 7th of August

Its the 7Th of August. As I returned from College and switched the T.V. on, I was informed by the frantic looking news anchor, who blared in almost incomprehensible hindi, that tomorrow, the 8Th of August would be doomsday for the world. The unholy combination of the three 8's,the anchor expounded, was potent enough for a catastrophe.
I switched the channel. This time I landed on an English breed. True to its language, the hype here was international. The Beijing Olympic games 2008. Commencing from tomorrow is the greatest show on earth; the Chinese having been a model of fastidious,meticulous,albeit slightly robotic precision. The channel having sent a correspondent all the way to China, seemed to want its investment back fast. The correspondent was foaming at the mouth as he spoke about how the Olympic committee might be goaded into including cricket in 2012.

Fervently praying that they didn't,I surfed all the channels...everyone seemed to be focussing on the impending...all of those enlightened people seemed much too busy in the prospects of the future than the significance of the present. None were interested in today.
The day had been an unusual one. The college seemed to be teeming with young enlightened souls brimming with novel ideas about the commemoration of the day and posters were abound about the gala cultural recital that afternoon as a token of fond and cherished remembrance of the heritage of one of Indian literature's greatest exponents. I was disappointed. Not only was the program under-rehearsed and hopelessly amateur, there seemed to be a genuine lack of spontaneous outpouring of creative energy. The apathy was palpable. The dancers danced cuz they had been directed to; the singers sang the song in a particular drab fashion, never bothering to infuse the song with a breath of life. The dramas enacted were more about showing off personal skills than commemorating the life of a great master. Indeed, the loudest cheers received were for the street goon. And this was supposed to be a cultural event.
Every year, Calcuttans and Bengalis around the globe gather round a certain photograph on this day and apparently pay homage. The streets bustle with people talking of literature and every institution worth its name hosts a multitude of events to celebrate the day.The rest of the world thinks bengalis are fussing. That they have a perennial identity crisis and hence tend to cling to the last vestiges of glory. Indeed, I have seen many a wry smile smack on the faces of some of my most intelligent friends.Maybe all don't. But some sure do!
Perhaps part of it is fuss. Maybe it is ridiculous for the rest of the nation to see people going berserk over something that is not remotely related to cricket. But you know what? I like it. I like it when people remember their heroes, their poets, the people who helped the nation move onward. Even if blended with pompous self importance,even a modicum of hypocrisy,I like that people at least remember his name today, even if for a minute.
Naysayers will say he remains alive only on paper,not in our hearts. But that is better than dying and getting buried anonymous,isn't it?
Calcutta remembers. For the rest,today is the 7th of August. Rabindranath Thakur died today.

Thought

A friend informed me today it was popular belief that Rock music was somehow better and 'higher" than pop.He quoted Paris Hilton to substantiate his claim.

Vote and a little Ghosh

Exhilarating is the word.There is no other I can think of which can describe the events of the last few days.It has been a whirlwind last week and a half,both in my personal life and of course,in the national scene.There has been a little fun,lots of heated discussions,a little more fun at the expense of the nation's future and the discovery of Omar Abdullah.

It does seem eons ago that I walked into the cinema to watch Rituparno Ghosh's latest,"Khela".I was disappointed.There was the trademark Ghosh style,the much-better-than-usual Manisha Koirala and a story which seemed unpredictable for the most part.However,I had gone in with much higher expectations which were not gratified.The little boy was adorable,the quaint manner of narration was sweet,the North Bengal scenery breathtaking and there was a discernable sense of intimacy,closeness which the director managed to weave throughout the film.The subtle underlying pain was most elegantly shown.The ending was beautiful.In any other director's hands,this would be hailed as great cinema.however,Ghosh has dazzled me with his brilliance so many times earlier that the perfect little intimate tale was inadequate.It lacked the genius,the "Oh my god!" moment,the one magic moment of divine brilliance.

Trouble is still brewing in college over my obstinate stand against ragging.I was accused of splintering the unity of the class.People are going mad,which must be a good sign for they don't tell you to shut up if your words aren't having an effect.I am on the verge of being accused of taking away a fundamental right...Things are hotting up.

The fun was of course provided by the sycophancy of the Left at the centre.Delhi seemed quite like a gladiatorial ring.I like it better than T-20.There are all the hourly updates and scores but the spice seems more here.Who wants Shoiab and Dhoni?Give me Mayavati and Sonia Gandhi any day!

And where was Omar Abdullah?Either he speaks very rarely or I have been completely stupid in missing his speeches.I had almost fallen asleep during the trust vote when Omar Abdullah's two-minute speech roused me.He not only spoke forcefully and made himself heard over the din but was coherent and witty.He is indeed a very good orator.He has got that one quality Rahul Gandhi lacks...intelligence.And he makes Somnath babu smile!


Another post about the trust vote in a couple of days....I am waiting for the second act."Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost!"

P.S-Awful quote,I know!Apologies.

Saturday...Today

I usually devote my Saturdays to the pursuit of trivial amusements.It was in accordance with the general scheme then,that last Saturday I let my friend persuade me to watch the new teen-flick in town that everyone is talking about..."Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na".Most people in my college had loved it beyond words and nothing but watching it twice could satiate their appetite.It was then,with a great deal of expectation and a modicum of apprehension that I queued in front of the Cinema.The line had snaked its way into the main avenue which brought a smirk onto the lips of my friend.So many people could hardly be wrong in their judgement.It was an eclectic mix.There were college crowds,obnoxious love birds,middle aged gentlemen,ageing ladies...

It was almost a miracle that tickets weren't as scarce as it seemed.We rushed inside,I didn't even look at the popcorn or the french fry stands!And then the film started.
As I walked out of the hall two and a half hours later,my mind was a jumble of thoughts.People around me gushed about the film;about how great it was,how adorable Imran Khan was,how hot Genelia looked,how sublime Rehman's creations were,how it was the best film they had seen in quite some time.i couldn't agree.Nor could I disagree.

To be fair,"Jaane Tu..." isn't a bad film at all.Of course,a bad film isn't what is expected of the man who penned "Maqbool".The film is breezy,the characters aren't overtly melodramatic and the music is very very good.But somewhere there was a feeling of being let down.
Had the film been in the hands of a lesser director,there would have been no cause for complaint.Indeed,if it hadn't amassed such rave critical reviews,the follies would have been quite passable.But Abbas Tyrewala,the brilliant,imaginative scriptwriter,what sort of a story is this?
Sure,the handling of the sequences speaks volumes of the director's abilities but as the film rolled on,I couldn't help feeling a lot of that ability lay nascent.
The plot was a complete mess.College life and the depiction of a bonding which transgressed the realm of ordinary day to day "friendship"*(little more than a casual acquaintance,considering how often we abuse the term )were all fine but what happens when the film doesn't move forward?The depictions were all upper middle class,of people rolling in money,something which I am sure many aspire too,but how many identify?Comic relief is great again,but what happens when every other dialogue is a tongue-in-cheek attempt at inciting laughter?The whole story refused to move onward and instead there is a barrage of clever one liners from the end of the first half hour.
To be fair,the audience was in splits but does Tyrewala really need to resort to that?It was only Ratna Pathak Shah,the one and only,who could breeze through such a non-role and come off as charming and adorable and indeed she waltzed through her performance.Nasiruddin Shah's role,again was an out and out attempts at unconventional(in Bollywood)humour.In deference to Tyrewala,the comedy was intelligent,a welcome relief from the slapstick that Bollywood regularly dishes out and some of Pathak's lines were memorable,especially when her son's best friend asks her while sobbing,because college had ended,"Auntie,itne din kaha chale gaye?" and the smart Pathak retorts,"Phone pe,beta,phone pe"
Returning to the principal point of complaint,I couldn't help thinking the storyline perfectly absurd.The middle part of the film was absolutely indigestible;the hour spent in establishing Imran and Genelia's respective lovers;the lovers' only task to make the protagonists aware of their growing jealousy.The idea was fine,the flaw lay in the execution.The film became so intolerably boring once the "other partners" were introduced that I could scarcely keep my eyes open.It was all glossy clothes and smart talk and the film refused to move on....time seemed to stand still.The conclusion again,wasn't something I was prepared for.The three conditions to be ordained a rajput scion,the midnight horse chase through Bombay,the airport chase sequence...was it all from a weird fairy tale?I was particularly disappointed with the horse ride at one in the morning through the streets of Bombay...farce!The airport chase sequence was funny though...special mention for Paresh Rawal,good throughout in the role of a (you guessed it!)comic police officer.The ending again,was so tame.Tyrewala had taken an unusual concept,why not attempt an unconventional ending?Friends turned lovers who live happily ever after sounds so old,doesn't it?

This is what I felt on Saturday.Today,however,is another day and strangely the film grows on me.I had readily appreciated the four things that had enabled me to sit through the 3hours....Imran Khan,all vivacious charm,cute smiles,clever lines and intelligent looks,shined through the holes in the script and seemed well endowed in brains if only a little deficient in the brawn's department
(a relief!)Charming and endearing,he carried comedy with great ease and most importantly, was extremely believable.Believability was also the forte of Genelia,still nursing a small Hyderabadi accent in her hindi.Managing to hold her own against Imran and making a place for herself amongst the audience was no mean task.And I am also much pleased to say that she is much improved from her earlier performances in Telegu mainstream films.The chirpy college girl,the typical upper class spoilt brat and the endearingly faithful friend was what she accomplished with amazing grace.A mention also for Prateik Babbar,Smita Patil's son who turns in a jaw-dropping performance as Genelia's brother.His anguish and love and sorrow are all so meticulously and yet so humanely depicted that one cannot but applaud the debutante.
It would be extremely unfair here if I didn't add a whole standing ovation to Rehman's work; fresh and vivacious,the music managed to capture the young spirit perhaps more than the film.The songs were a heady mix of rhythm and melody and I simply,was enthralled.

But as I sit here,at two in the morning,thinking of all that I had seen,I finally realize that it wasn't what I had seen,it was what i felt which mattered more.Sure the film had its share of flaws but what it managed to do was to leave an impression.The first twenty minutes,the best part of the film where Imran and Genelia's beautiful bond is explored keeps coming back to me.And as I listen to "Aditi" on the headphone,I get the feeling that all criticism aside,the film managed to connect,not just with the college crowds but with everyone who ever loved and had a friend to die for.And that might just be Tyrewala's best work,the accomplishment of the most difficult task set to him;He manages to keep the film alive in each one of us and makes us identify with at least somebody.You will find yourself unable to control yourself from clapping at the climax, weird as it was!And every time you listen to a piece of music from the film or snatches of words from "aditi"..you will always,even if for a few seconds,transported into the magical world of Jai and Aditi,when the world was still beautiful and they could love each other without tags or conditions.

"Jaane Tu..." might have been a great film.It isn't.But that is quite beside the point.It isn't what you will remember.What you will remember is how it felt to be Jai and Aditi.

A long time ago,in a city....

I got up today.Dressed for college,cursed the college time table and got out of the house.I spend a regular day,trivial occurrences interwoven with mundane circumstances;pointless conversations concocted with petty tricks,emotions not quite genuine getting lost with mirthless smiles.
It was only on my way back,wallowing in self pity,that I chanced a glance at my watch and realized it to be the 11th of July,or the watch proclaimed,the infamous "7/11".It was on this day,two years ago,that Mumbai was ripped apart by seven horrendous blasts that changed the socio-political scenario of the nation forever.Though I never have lived in Bombay and in general have a very limited idea concerning the outline of the city or its people,than what Bollywood and its closest living relative,the news media affords us to have,I had and still have a considerable number of friends and people I love who reside in "the city of dreams".

I returned home and turned on the television.C.B.I''s magnificent success in an open and shut case after months of mud splashing and shadowy speculation in the media seemed to have caught the nation's imagination,gripped its psyche.People seemed ill-disposed to recall something so profoundly and evidently painful on a day of such revelling glory.A single news channel dared to air a story about a person who has been in a perpetual state of injury induced coma since the black day.Of course he was poor,he had no money to pay for his treatment hereafter and had,in short,no right to live.The channel promptly relegated the piece to the back benches.Not for him, the magnanimity of the nation witnessed in the outpouring of grief or the flooding of relief money.There was no resilient spirit that would help him stand back on his feet again.

"One of the nation's worst human tragedies,with over 200 people killed,The Mumbai massacre ranks internationally as one of the most gruesome acts of crime ever..."screamed one reporter stationed to cover the condolence meetings.I sincerely wish she meant the empathy,absent from her voice.A meeting "to remember the martyrs " culminated with the principal speaker concluding that "the central government was a complete failure and the Samajwadi Party was being opportunistic."He stood beside a lady who had lost her son and husband,both wage labourers,as he waxed eloquent how the government had no moral right to continue.

It is easy for me to don the critical eye.It is even convenient.After all,I was,in no way,affected me,snug as I was in front of the television,both then and now.No Concern of mine emanated from a genuine exigency,just plain curiosity and outrage.But it is indeed depressing that things haven't looked up for those whose lives were truly affected by the blasts.Who lost everything they had or perhaps still have a crippled brother at home,all to a unnamed Jehad,a war they were never a part of.Sadder still,perhaps,is the fact they look up towards us,the society,the people unscathed,rich,Outwardly sympathetic with hope in their eyes.Perhaps they think all the soundbite does mean something.perhaps the next C.M. visit might yield a hospital bed for their father.Or Barkha Dutt's riveting commentary might mean something other than a dozen mikes poking into their faces.
They hope that their tragedy will mean something else than general knowledge question in the years to come;a benchmark for future genocides.They hope that they will somehow get a slice of the amazing spirit of the "city that never stops".Maybe they hope us,people who see them but don't notice to sit up today and think.The sad thing is that it seems they are hoping in vain.

Today

I had planned to take a break from blogging for six months.Life had seemed too engrossing,too mundane,too regular for me to share.I didn't plan to break the vow today.But then something happened.
It is today that I realized how difficult it is to stop people from what they ardently wish to do,even if they themselves had admitted at one point in time,albeit in private,that it does show them in poor light and is WRONG.Perhaps greater trouble are those people who think what they do highlights their talents,veils their imperfections and spruces up their "cool" factor.People who wish to see can be lead onward.People who only think they can see cannot.

There was a concerted effort this year in my college to stop the menace otherwise known as Ragging;euphemised by the wishfully blind who like to call it "orientation"/"interaction.Students chose,in droves,not to undertake the stupid and horrifying "custom" of hazing the "juniors"(rather condescending !)They insisted that they wanted to get to know the students,for a change.
I was buoyed.With so many standing up for something their own petty interests,there was truly hope for betterment.It was truly difficult to comprehend why something so trivial wasn't getting rooted out,especially when so many were against it.All the first year students were greeted with toffees on their second day.A friend of mine messaged his girlfriend that they had decided to become "caring seniors".

The question was answered today.I was taught that just because people know something is wrong,they will never stand by it.They will waver on their pledge;they will instead do what is convenient.Most of the people who had pledged their support found it too difficult to honour their word.The ragging started in earnest today.I was told that if someone wants to rag,its his liberty to do.I was shown proofs of how the first year students were eager to get humiliated by their "seniors" and how I was being the wet blanket.The day drew to a close the same way it had every year.With massaged egos the seniors walked out triumphant;the juniors weren't vanquished either,holding,with pride,onto their solace that they would be the perpetrators of the humiliation the next year.Life went on.
Hindsight is perfect.And thus as the day draws to a close,I can say that I was sadly deceived in the character of man.A friend of mine today quoted Frederich Nietzsche....he said the force behind a man's life is "the will to power".And as I sat there and rued my loss,I suddenly realized that the win had been a hollow one after all.There was no collective desire to weed out ragging.There was simply an urge to look noble.There had been no change of heart.There simply was a change of tactic.
Sociologists say ragging is for those with an insecure persona.It is the perfect way to get your ego boosted...today,however,I saw that it was far more complex.There was a ego massage involved,yes,but far more pivotal was the power which the seniors were bestowed with.Making a guy marry another guy didn't emote as much fun as the reverential stares and the awe effused with fear which their eyes betrayed.They were in charge.

I was wrong.It perhaps cost me a few friends but the lesson is the better learnt for that.No one wants change.Because oppression always facilitates the privileged.The seniors rag because they can;it is "fun" and for a few weeks,the nobody-s get to become somebody-s.The juniors get ragged because it will be their turn next year.That is tradition.We all make pledges to make the world a better place.We all hope and pray and curse the previous generation.It is a pity though,that we don't act.Maybe because its too difficult.

A Tale Of Two Cities

A city rejoiced...a city wept.Thousands of people went berserk with glee while thousands others suffered in mute agony.Two cities.Separated by a few hundred kilometres.And yet,a world apart tonight.
It was about seven thirty in the evening when I switched on the television and was horrified,albeit for a minute,at the gruesome deaths caused due to the serial blasts in Jaipur.The news channels reported in sickening unison and enthusiasm that there had been a stampede in the walled city area and an "unknown" number of people were dead.The macabre images showed pools of blood on the streets,mangled bodies heaped up on the sides and crushed vehicles and debris of shops....a normal evening when something had gone horribly,horribly wrong.

I didn't however,have time to watch the coverage or express anguish,if only to myself...I had finer things to do.I had to cheer on SRK's Knight Riders as they took on a highly fancied side at the Eden Gardens...ironic name!It was "my" city playing against "their" city.And we were baying for blood.The match was touted as the "clash of the titans" and there wasn't a soul in this bustling metropolis who wasn't shouting their heart out.The match,as the commentators said,was a matter of "life and death"!

For the whole 4 hours of the match,I sat glued to the television,not for one moment thinking about catching the news about the victims of the dastardly attack.Saurav's spell or Shoaib's speed was way more important....Kolkata won the duel.We all were elated...The city rejoiced.Kolkata had won..."Our"city had won...We partied,we danced,some of us even drank to the victory.

That didn't bother me...what bothered me,although in hindsight,was my response.I had chanced a glance at the news bar that proclaimed that 50 were dead in the attacks..and I had instantly thought.."Oh well,it isn't a major attack,so few are killed...we'll catch it later".What bothered me was every one's response...The people at Eden,to be fair,were in the dark.But had they known,would it have mattered?After all,most news channels seemed more intent on knowing whether Jaipur would host the next IPL match,keeping in view,the crucial standings on the league table...
What bothered me was my exasperation at seeing every channel covering the attacks and not one praising my Saurav.I was frankly vexed...

But I needn't have worried.India is far too smart to get entwined in emotional matters for too long...withing an hour of the attack,channels broadcasting out of Calcutta had switched over to Eden and the national channels followed suit after another hour.Jaipur was reduced to just a footnote....Celebration attracted much more TRPs than weeping grandmothers lamenting the death of their only grandson.
Bombay in 1993 was different.We were shocked then.we are indifferent now.The fact that people used bombs to kill others and mutilate their own brethren was nauseating to us.Now,the fact that so "few" people were killed amazes us.As one correspondent said,it was another pearl in a string of terrorist strikes...we have grown so thick skinned and insensitive that the loss of human life doesn't bother us anymore...it is more of a statistic."Oh,only 10000 killed in China?That is less than Myanmar,isn't it?"we judge tragedies by the number of casualties.And we excel in forgetting the victims,leaving them on the way,helpless and smartly moving on.

The New India has arrived,ladies and gentlemen.And so have the new Indians.Where one city's devastation is second hand news in another...Where deaths do not qualify for attention over celebrities...where our lives can do without these sombre moments of sorrow.As I had said earlier,one city rejoiced while one wept...and the sad thing is that the nation rejoiced with the city of joy and told Jaipur to weep alone.

Cat

There was a cat today,

lying across the road...

there was a dead cat today,

who had left this mortal abode!

There was a cat today,

run over by a car,

none to look,none to care;

as it lay dead on the busy throughfare.

Someone had to reach office early today,

Someone was getting late on their way,

Someone had spent an extra hour in bed,

And that was why the cat lay dead...

People looked back at it in disgust,

blood splashed all over the clean roadway,

"Darn cat!Has ruined our roads",

was all that we could say!

"Thank God it wasn't a man!",they said,

As if they'd care if it were,

As if it would matter to anyone,

If a man lay dead there!

But thank god there wasn't a rally,

Or a protest march with beautiful candles lit,

Or a big T.V crew who had better things to do,

The dead cat got what was deemed fit!

"THANK GOD" cuz the cat didn't cause a jam,

Thank cuz you could drive over it just fine,

"THANK GOD" the man in the car wan't late for work,

"THANK GOD" he didn't lose a minute of his time!

And the dead cat just lay there,

Befouling our great city's roadway,

Before the moping trucks came

And washed the blood away the next day....

The road gleamed just as brightly as before-

And the cars raced back and forth through night and day,

And all of us waited with bated breath...

We waited for our next prey!

Of Rock music and more

For the past 9 months,I have been witnessing something...a phenomenon...rather a cultural revolution which seems to find its footing in the denizens of the bustling metropolises but is,slowly but surely,finding a toehold amongst the youth of the smaller mofussil towns.I still am untouched by this rapid infection but am in constant danger of contamination...

The disease....or rather,a godsend boon for some..."Rock culture"-the new brand of music that is sweeping an entire generation into its fold.Though I speak of a very tiny cross- sectional demographic of the society,it is nevertheless intriguing because so many of my peers,my juniors and my seniors seem so very addicted to it!

Rock as a genre has never quite flourished in India and the phenomena that I am talking about has got nothing to do with the emergence of authentic Indian rock...on the contrary,the Indian music scene is still dominated by "Indipop" and "Film music"...However,I am awestruck by the burgeoning fan base of people like Kurt Cobain,Jim Morrison,Billie Joe Armstrong;bands like Nirvana,Green day,Foo Fighters....People my age go crazy over songs that are sung thousands of miles away by people who perhaps never heard of Hindustan!

I am not a fan of rock music...it makes my head ache.So you can be rest assured this post is not going to be about how great rock music is ,how Kurt Cobain is "gawd" and how rock music has captured the imagination of the youth the world over.

This post is about my own personal troubles in my own little myopic world where I am much too smug to look out for other people's point of view.

I have a friend who stands out in a crowd due to his rock-devotion.He will strike up a altercation if he feels his rock-idols are getting slighted.I admire him for wearing his heart on his sleeve.

But from this point,let me enumerate my troubles.

Most of my friends who are rock fan(atic)s cannot tolerate any bit of criticism from their peers about their idols...for them,Green Day represents the pinnacle of musical achievement and nothing can ever surpass that.They are extremely touchy about anybody criticising the rock genre...god forbid if you tell them you can't stand the ear-splitting racket.They'll tell you how ignorant you are when it comes to deciphering guitar techniques or obscure lyrics that have got drowned in the electronic cacophony.

Rock claims to be non-conformist...it doesn't bow to the wishes of the conventional society,or so it says!Another point of clash.Most of my friends tend to slight pop music because it caters mainly to the populist tastes of the society.Rock,they say,is different!I sincerely don't find the difference..at the end of the day,both aim at selling the maximum number of records!It might be that rock stars belt out a different theme of music but how it becomes better than other genres is beyond my comprehension.

I used to like rock...soft rock that is!Until rock decided to move over to a heavy metal genre and attracted a worldwide fan base!Now,my friends,who are mad after Cobain don't wish to listen to such whimpers!

The point that I am trying to make is that I despise the arrogance rock fans tend to portray..at least some of them!They behave as if they're gonna change the world and hence the advent of the nonsensical "I am what I am " tag line...Its cool to be a rock fan.It isn't cool to listen to country music.It is cool to say that Cobain,Morrison died to "move on"..it is easy to glorify their suicides;cuz the whole world is doing so!~

I am afraid that in the midst of all the hullabaloo,the soul of rock has been lost.It was said that they'll never cater to popular taste..they'll do what they want,but is that what is happening now?I don't think rock is the best genre in the world...actually I don't care about genre as long as the song is good...So what right do the rock fans have to tell me that I shouldn't speak badly about Cobain?Yes,I might not know anything about marijuana or rock culture,in fact I am afraid I have portrayed my severe lack of knowledge in this post...but again,I wish to remain free...I don't want to be told that rock is the only genuine genre...all others are studio-mixes...rock is one too!Just see the back covers.

My friends say rock music is great cuz its straight from the heart...socially conscious,great lyrics and the songwriters are the singers!Celine is rubbish cuz she can't write..In the same vein,Cobain is rubbish cuz he can't sing!I have a problem with music that is dark,unnecessarily depressing,where human emotions have no value...Where idols are more notorious than "Jack,the ripper"..where genres are decided based on drug usage and where entire generations are blindly led by a desire to conform to a non-conformist trend!

I wish to be left alone with my Celine Dion..and I want to say out loud that she is way better than Cobain...and I want to have the freedom to say that Dido is better than Morrison because she has the courage to live.I do not wish to be scorned when I listen to the Spice Girls instead of Carnival of Rust.I do not wish to be told day in and day out that I am missing something great...

I may not be "man" enough to listen to Nirvana and there might be people who gawk when they hear I like female singers,but I do not care...I choose Britney Spears and I choose Andrea Corr and that is my choice...I choose to stay out of the line!

The Great Hockey Drama

For the past few days all that I can see around me is this great hullabaloo raised by the media and the common public in unison because the Indian Hockey team faltered at the final hurdle..the finals of the qualifying tournament for the Beijing Olympics 2008...The news anchors have been shouting themselves hoarse at the great "ignominy" of not being able to compete in the Olympics.I have been enlightened on the national "shame" and the great damage this "deplorable" loss has caused to the "Indian national pride".

People have been baying for blood....The hockey player's blood that is!I heard one senior journalist say that the golden era of hockey was just a matter of the past....Its time to move on and crown cricket as our national game.The popular mood seems to soundly propound this view too.The S.M.S polls resonated with general indignation at the pathetic performance of our team...especially at a time when the the cricket team has made the nation proud with its "epoch making feats".

Don't get me wrong.I'm no connoisseur of hockey.In fact,I have never ever seen a game of hockey in my life.But I still get the feeling that the mood resonated across the nation reeks of dichotomy and blatant hypocrisy.Its tough being a sportsman in this country if you're not a cricketer...Ishant Sharma gets more news coverage about his atrocious hair than the master Vishwanathan Anand...News people regularly raise a hue and cry about the burgeoning burden of expectations on the shoulders of cricketers;not a word about the apathy meted out to other sports.
We slander the team for losing in the finals...did we ever care when they thrashed other teams en-route to the finals?Did we ever cheer for them?Did the government care?
When India loses a cricket match...we say people are being unreasonable and the team played well nonetheless...we are lectured on how a team can't win every time!But heaven forbid if that same reasoning is applied to hockey.NO NO!They have to keep winning...don't bother to provide sponsorship,proper coaching,a transparent governing body or international exposure!Whenever a bunch of underfed,unnoticed,uncelebrated youngsters go out on the international arena,they have to perform like Dhyan Chand.Never mind that we are looking the other way most of the time!

I am sure the players are themselves downcast about their performance...and surely it is a sign of the downward spiral or the tailspin in which Indian hockey has entwined itself.But should we not have cried foul when the government slashed their funds?Or when a certain Sikh was declared president of the IHF for life?Should we not fret about the complete lack of transparency in the governing body????
We choose to take the easy way out.Blame the players,they are unprivileged and illiterate anyway,take our ire out on them.Glorify cricket,a sport that more than half of the globe has not even heard about!We cheer when the cricket team wins 3 matches against the same opposition,in a game that doesn't matter to 3/4 Th's of the world.We choose to compete in a sport that doesn't even have enough teams to organize a decent tournament.We beat 2 nations in Australia and went gaga over it.Does anyone even care to know how many nations we beat at the qualifying round of the Olympics?

We regularly complain that India performs terribly at international sporting arenas...But it is to be expected.After all,Dhoni's boys get 10 million every time they win against a crappy team...while the allowance we provide to Indians who play in truly International sports wouldn't buy me a bag of chips.And we expect Olympic gold.

In a way I think the sports journalist was right.Maybe cricket should be crowned the national game.We don't deserve better.We don't deserve to succeed in international sports...Making cricket the national passion has a great plus side too...We wouldn't have to worry about Olympic qualification anymore...There simply aren't enough countries~~!!