My Take- Saviour 4 Indian Cricket

The biggest scandal of cricket in recent times has been all over newsprint space and clogging our news channel airwaves [nationally as well as internationally]. It started with one man Lalit k Modi’s hubris and ensuing fall from grace. Modi as is the case with all his predecessors who thought that they are the lords and kings and god’s greatest gift to the world, got delusional with feeling of invincibility. That ultimately lead to a domino effect, which has brought his world crashing down in a heap. In the bargain a lot of skeletons have popped out of the cupboard, and has put a lot of high and mighty in a piquant situation. It has also brought a huge amount of disrepute to Indian cricket.

You don’t throw the baby out with bath water,right? although tainted, mauled and reputation sullied by all the slander IPL still continues a great product. Yes there are few, well a lot of things about it which need a complete overhaul, but still it’s not beyond repair.

What we really need is a revolutionary change at the top, not some cough syrup waala who will give “Khasi ki Chutti." The public of India is fed up of the pawar moves inside the corridors of a coterie called BCCI. Our “administrators” have to realize that they can’t be so callous to us anymore. You have played enough havoc with our general politics, but this game is too dear to us and we are too sentimentally attached to it. Enough is enough. If they have to salvage the situation the time to act is now & decisively so.

For me there is only one name which seems to be perfectly suited to be the this beast of burden, the messiah of masses, the real prodigal son, the saviour of souls, the incorruptible, untarnished, humility exemplified. Ladies and gentleman I present to you, the one and only.

JOGINDER SHARMA

Joginder Sharma has a few things in common with Kapil Dev. He plays for Haryana, can give the ball a mighty thwack and has the surprise factor with his nippy medium pace. Most importantly, he has the convention-defying streak that Kapil displayed everytime he played. Joginder bowls with a mixed action and can trouble the best with his lively seam bowling - like he did to Rahul Dravid, VVS Laxman and Yuvraj Singh while playing for India A against India Seniors before the Australia series. With two successive hundreds and a ten-wicket haul at the start of the 2004-05 Ranji Trophy season, he won himself a place in India's one-day squad for the tour to Bangladesh. He was back to the grind of domestic cricket after that series but outstanding performances in the next two years won him a spot in the squad for the home series against West Indies in early 2007. Joginder will perhaps always be remembered as the bowler who dismissed Misbah-ul-Haq in the final of the inaugural ICC World Twenty20 to cap mad scenes in Johannesburg. Sharma, India's least likely bowling hero, had bowled three outstanding overs for 13 runs, taking one wicket, but it was that last dismissal that turned him into a cult hero. He has not played another game for India since. This in itself is travesty unparalleled in the annals of history

He has all the requisite qualities that are needed to be the true great hero, who can eventually bring credibility back to Indian cricket. The reasons for this premise are as follows.

1. He is a modern day great.
2. He was the architect of India’s greatest cricket triumph after the prudential world cup.
3. He is modest to a fault,his 1st catch (if you remember his first significant contribution was Hodge c J Sharma b Pathan) if u play the replay, nobody had even realized what had happened. No showboating, no over the top celebrations, just self effacing satisfaction.
4. If I may- I want to quote Maslow’s hierarchy of need here. For me he is one of the few amongst us who has attained the level of self-actualization. This means he is way above things like-money, fame, sexual intimacy etc.
5. He is the modern day Gandhi as even after being showered by crores of gifts and every material thing at his disposal he chose to travel by train for a Ranji trophy match.Although he was robbed on the train but the calm on his face was one of –equanimity (ah! Swami Vivekananda reprise).
6. As for glamour, which Modi used to bring to the table, our Jogi is a dancer of par excel lance (reference- Chennai super kings video) but he chooses to be a dour self.
7. Above all he is a cricketer which every kid can look up to, ok not every body might have the talent to match up to him, but we can aspire [keep on trying Sachin-u will be there].
8. Above all he is said to have refused the offer of building his bronze gilded statue by Govt. of Haryana. [Govt. Of Haryana has officially denied these claims-I think they are merely trying to hide their failure], tha's austerity exemlified.

If I continue to list down his qualities given my penchant for prolixity I will end up rivaling an epic which will compete for honors in terms of length with Ramayana & Mahabharata.

He is the one and only who can emancipate us from this mess we have got ourselves into. And we should consider ourselves extremely fortunate to live in the times when a great man like him adorned the Indian blue, I salute you Jogi.

It’s time to bring back our hero [ha ha-I know it’s a tag line of a super flop]. Dharti ka lal udhaar karo!

Go Go Modi, Jai ho! Jai ho! Jogi.

NOSATLGIA

What triggered this whole upsurge of emotions and consequently ended on this page was a simple request by a friend to call on his landline whilst my cellular phone was indisposed.

Ah! I Remember those never ending conversations we used to have about the most trifling things. Also remember the frenzy with which we used to run to pick up the receiver before anyone else could grab it (now most of the time it keeps on ringing till the time the caller doesn’t get the no response message). I remember at my place how people used to frown when they realized that a member of the opposite sex had called( they even tried to spy via the parallel line, it was pretty embarrassing for my aunt when I told the caller that my aunt is listening on the parallel-it put an end to the spying though). Remember that nervous flick over to the watch when you realized that you have been speaking for protracted period of time (J.D. rings any “bell”). Ah! Those good old days.

But now we have cell phones which allow us to be in touch with anyone anytime (How the hell we used to manage to be together on New Years Eve on super crowded north Goa beaches, without cell phone?).

Hmmm…. Summer’s here.

I know when I make a statement that summer is my favourite season for many people it may seem like I am a knuckle head on the fringes of lunacy and call me . (Esp. As some reports are quoting that we are touching 100 year highs). But for me it brings the golden memories of the past.

I remember how eager and ready I was to run back to native after every school break. How with a heavy heart and a face that replicated death I used to return to school. I still remember the long bus trip followed by a very long walk which took me home. Well freedom that unfettered freedom that I used to feel upon reaching home can only be felt but can never be explained in entirety.

Amongst all the memories which swivel in my head. I recall the sorties to the forests to gather the wild berries. I also remember the patience bordering on fanaticism that was exercised while waiting for an overripe mango to fall down from the tree, hence give us a chance to savour its resplendent taste (climbing the tree @ that age was highly hazardous, a couple of broken limbs standing testimony to that fact. And hurling stones invariably ended up in an exercise called Save our Skulls). Another exercise which to anguish of many I indulged in was fishing; well to say that I am no Roger Ramrod is an understatement. They say statistics are like bikini they show a lot but not everything. Why do I say it? coz even with a record of catching a grand total of 4 small fishes after toiling for innumerable hours I still consider myself a crack fisherman. Confidence and self belief even if misplaced does have its value.

Summer.... above all meant cricket and a lot of it. The sedulous preparation for the summer season was always marked by air bowling and shadow batting. I remember those international cricket matches which were replicated in the courtyard with makeshift scorebooks (there was a method to the madness – we were extremely paranoid in terms of preserving the originality of these players as much as possible). How eagerly we used to prepare for the evening matches with all the kids and elders alike.

Anybody who has played the local brand of field cricket. As a, toddler is aware of certain facts.

1. Majority of the time the only function of cricket you indulge in is fielding.
2. You occupy presumably the most important fielding position way behind the wicket keeper (not bad eh! Note: that there are no byes or runs behind the stumps)
3. Your batting efforts are restricted to an over of inconsequential batting (4 both sides if you are fortunate). Bowled to you the youngest and the most peripheral member of the playing party.

As you grow up to occupy that position of that tyro (well wannabe player to be exact) your vexation is just starting.

1. You always bat last when the match is already over. You bowl to the tiny tots’ coz nobody wants to do that thankless job.
2. If by chance you get an opportunity to bat and the match is on line the fastest bowler in the other team will terrorize you into being bodily extirpated of the match.

But then you when you grow up. You get your chance of avenging all the atrocities committed against you. Usually the scores (no pun intended) are settled by meting out the same treatment handed out to us to the kids of adults who inflicted those mortal brutalities on us.

Still slip into nostalgia when I remember how we used to sleep in the courtyard in the open air under the bright moonshine, and then get up early as somebody would be hounding you out of your slumber to sweep the courtyard. As for meals even after racking my brains really hard I cant remember having meals without somebody coercing and pleading with you a 199 times to have them.

Gone is that summer with just flinders of memories to recall from and draw solace from.

I also miss that time when table tennis was played on the ground. When electricity going out at night meant a chance to break the rigmarole and hang out with neighborhood friends in the dark. When Saturday 9’o clock Amitabh Bachchan was a family celebration, and the break @ 10.30 meant a cuppa of tea to keep us all awake. Gone also are the days when flinging your arm over your friends shoulder was not looked upon with the suspicion about your sexual tendencies.

This whole memoir might not be my aesthetically pleasing or intellectually stimulating chronicle. But it’s a story which is very close to my heart and was dying to be expressed

P.S: There was a time when getting high “getting high” meant on a swing or a sea saw. When drinking meant “Rasna” (yes I belong to the medieval ages). When love gift meant “Archie’s cards and 60 bucks teddy bears” (VK ur friend laddoo). When your worst enemies were “your siblings”. When the only thing that could “hurt” were skinned knees (used to happen ever so often, that it started to not hurt after all). The only things that were broken were balls (toys) and “good byes” only meant tomorrow” (well usually it preceded a reluctant trundle back home after a lot of ranting and scolding by mom).

Seriously I can’t remember the last time I spoke to a friend on landline from your own home landline. And miss it badly. Can you?

AVATAR A RIP OFF OF SANJAY KAPOOR DEBUT

Yes my friends it’s not just the name it’s the fact that they have stolen an Indian film story too for the world’s most expensive movie. Well actually it was my friend K.C.(Kurnool Charminar 4 obvious reasons) who prompted me to think about this issue. He was happy that avatar didn’t win the academy award, what were his reasons ? only he can explain.

On my way back from my favourite city Margao, as I was traversing the lovely lotus laden lake of Cansaulim this thought just took the germ.

You sniggering guys who have difficulty believing me just have a look at the facts.

Disclaimer- I had seen the below mentioned hindi movie a long time ago, hence pardon me if Iam not exact with the trivial details of the below mentioned movie.

The movie in question is called “cult favourite” “Prem” it starred marked the debut of “sterling” Sanjay Kapoor and the vivacious diva Tabu.

The story goes some what like this:

There is a young guy who sees a girl and then starts remembering his previous life. In his previous life he is with the British and they are up against a tribal clan. Which happens to be a nature worshipper clan. He happens to infiltrate that clan and inadvertently falls in love with "chieftain’s daughter". Whence this, to prove his capability of being her suitor he has to appease the "wind god". Which as the hero he duly does, by excruciatingly crossing a bridge between two mountains in (the bargain eating up a lot of screen time). Then he also has to take the blessings from the ancestors whom the tribe worship, as god. And check this out, u know what they are called in the movie “jaraehwa”.

Then when the British come to fight against the tribe he leads the fight against them. In the ensuing battle only to be reborn and take a new life and live happily ever after with the heroine.

In avatar it’s a US marine who has actually sent to know more about some tribal clan on a different planet, who if you note happen to be "nature worshippers". Then conveniently our hero over here falls head over heels in love with the "chieftain’s daughter". He has to prove himself, again by pleasing the "wind god". In this case he just has to do it a bit differently, by taming a flying beast. When the fight at the climax begins he also takes the tribe's side. And hola! The ancestor's in avatar'case are called "ehwa". The movie culminates with him getting a new life. The same one, happily ever after one with the heroine.

Guys don’t u find the co-incidence in the stories a bit striking.

If you observe closely and if u just take out the rebirth saga in Prem and the visual razzle dazzle of avatar and tweak a few details isn't the co-incidence too obvious, to not notice?

Honestly guys (keep aside the production values and technological use chasm) if Prem was made in English earlier and avatar in Hindi now. Wouldn’t there have been a clamour saying that this is a rip off? And Bollywood directors have no imagination? Aping the west..etc etc.

You might very well quote the statistics of Bolly guys just plain copying their Holly counterparts, but I think even the devil deserves his due.

Here's my theory-

My friend KC…. avatar didn’t win an academy award this year because the racist jury members couldn't tolerate an Indian film double. First the name and the story-ripped of from pure Hindi commercial saga... too much. They gave Slumdog an academy last year because it was made by a Pom, although most of the credit was taken by my deshvasis. Another reason was India and China were the only two economies last year which steadied the world economy somewhat. So after the Dragon got an Oscar for Crouching Tiger, the Indian Elephant had to get its due and some share of the glory which we got in the form of SlumDog. Whether they liked it or not they had to give something to India ( some say there was a secret bargain, in lieu of academy awards India had to give up their demand of a permanent seat on the UN security council).

But this time it would have been too much for them to see James Cameron walk on the stage and in his acceptance speech giving major credit to Satish Kaushik :).

World beware: Well we Indians the new age conquerors out to overwhelm every body. First it was the holy American grail-Mc Donald’s. Whom we forced to make Mc Aloo Tikki (Ray Kroc must have definitely turned in his grave). Then it was the HRC belting out the favourite Daler hits. And now its Hollywood more so the hallowed Oscars.

At the risk of repeating myself, India is in a "Veni, vidi, vici" mode. Nothing matters to us now, poverty, malnutrition, unemployment, illiteracy, corruption, ineptitude... nothing.. These are too trivial for us. We want to make a name by annexing all the marquee symbols of the erstwhile imperial colonists.

Make your visa rules stricter, do what you can. We dare you, we will bring you down to your knees by sitting here itself. This is the age of re colonization. do what you can, but you cannot stop us. Our hubris is going to bulldoze the world.

Jai hind... wait a sec. Rajsaheb should I say jai Maharasthra. no? i will have to apply for the copyright usage? damn.. i will do it. in the meanwhile- it's

India shining. okay Advaniji...oh! Modiji...nah. Ok Gadkariji….thanks.

Ajmal Kasab the next CM of Maharasthra.

You bloody traitor, we hate u, treason.. throw this fellow out of the country. How can u say something like this, damn you.

Ok ok lets cool the tempers down and stop being at our jingoistic best (or is it worst?). Guys I have not made this statement just in the air, there is a fairly strong premise to it.

As you guys must be aware that a recent proposal from the maharasthra govt which makes it mandatory for all the taxi drives in Mumbai to have knowledge of marathi.

What load of rubbish where the hell is this guy going…. I have already lost interest now….

Wait...I am coming back, relax .

This whole idea took root by the incident which might on the surface of it sound very trivial but has earth shattering implications….

Well it was the news that ajmal kasab (oh! I have something to say about his name too but later) speaking in marathi.

Well what does it imply, that means he is an alpha or super citizen of india. As Marathi manoos parties have said citizen of Maharashtra or Mumbai or popularly called the marathi manoos is way above any other citizen of india.

Gone are the days when the first citizen of India was the president.On that….we’don’t have first lady of India any more we now have the first husband of India….though technically the fact that she is a marathi manoos might have some implication, I shall consult a marathi party on this matter

So lets plot the journey o Mr Kasab er or is it Kasav? the man of many names and faces. He is the modern Julius Caesar , “Veni, vidi, vici” he came he saw he conquered, wait he came via the sea so he is more like vasco da gama, but he VDG is not the one for quote, ok lets keep this debate for some other time.

So lets start the kasab “whats in the name-shakespeare” fairy tale. He came on the fateful day of 26/11, shot a some scores of people down. well u see human life in India is pretty cheap* and then went to jail…like all great people do. Then he came out and became a taxi driver in Mumbai (qualification-marathi language). Thereon the taxi union leader,guts and leadership as well as organisational competency of kasab is well documented. Then he was patronized as warrior and fighter for the marathi rights, as you know he is already a role model for MP police when it comes to weapons handling. Then he joins any of the marathi manoos parties, well he gets voted in as the messiah who came from abroad to emancipate the oppressed marathi manoos. And then he becomes the CM as you know the marathi manoos party leaders don’t believe in holding a political post, so they need a face and who better than the warrior supreme who is marathi than the daredevil kasab.

Laugh if u like guys, but seriously tell me who has a better chance of being chance of being a maharasthra CM a north Indian Muslim or the Marathi speaking kasab?

P.S. To the topic of of cheapness of human life in India- Last year we celebrated, well actually we should have been anguished or dismayed, but we are Indians so we celebrate everything 25 years of Bhopal gas tragedy. according to Dow Chemicals which bought over Union Carbide( co. responsible for bhopal gas tragedy) a princely sum of Rs. 62,600 was derived as the value of each Indian Fatality. Hey by the way by some estimates this co roughly paid a miserly sum of USD $ 2 billion for cough related to asbestos contamination in America.

Incredible India! Indeed.

Obituary 2009

While everybody makes New Year resolutions, I always end up writing obituaries. I guess it’s a follow up from the days where at every function I was the designated “vote of thanks giver”.

Oh! that reminds me there was on occasion wherein a lady belonging to one of these feminist groups had come to give us a talk in college. Well after a hard day wherein we lost a cricket match in quite an ungainly fashion, couple it with a May summer day in Goa and add on the most boring monotone in history taking about some feminist movement. And what do you have-well perfect setting for a mid summer sleep. Well as I was lost in reverie, suddenly someone pokes me and tells me that its show time. After brief period of snarling and cursing I gear my self up for my ritual the good old V.O.T. and her’s how I goofed up. The name of the esteemed lady who came to give the talk was –Sabina Martins 4m Bailancho saad and I proposed- (a vote of thanks) to her by addressing her madam Sabina Saad from Bailancho Martins. Funny? Not nearly enough ,right? Let me clarify what the name bailancho saad means- it means women’s crow not the black one, it is like a cocks crow ( just to make myself crystal clear, as in the roosters crow). So effectively I called her –sabina cocks crow. J …..

Lost again where was I? Oh! here. I am a guy who is more at ease in nostalgia then in planning the future. Hence I suck at making resolutions. Well I was wandering again; hence I guess is taking me so long to finally host this post.

This year in my life will fondly be looked back as the year of convictions and sentencing. Wait I know some of my readers do know about some criminal antecedents (kindly note the sample 1 in my last entry of eternal best man part-3, may or may not be considered as an example) of my gang but I mean it in a more metaphorical sense. Convictions= engagement as in the sentence is set, what is awaited is the final sentencing. Sentencing = marriage, why is that has been explained by a myriad of great writers over the years so need not go to great lengths to explain the same.

Out of samples listed down in eternal best man part-3, sample 2-J.D- is convicted (well finally the no stalled @ 17, if any are added now they will be considered annexure). Rest all from 3 to 5 were sentenced J. You might want to know what happened to sample no 1. To say his year was tumultuous would be a gross understatement. I cannot divulge any more details as I have been promised that I will be writing his autobiography some time in the future.

This year was also a year of farewells when we bade goodbye to a lot of legends in my favourite field- sports:

Anil Kumble – biggest match winner for India in my generation (all u Tendulkar fans don’t mind I am fan too) stop squirming. This oak of giant should feel aggrieved and rightly so... for not getting his due.

Saurav Ganguly- My favourite football club is Tottenham Hotspurs and their slogan is – to dream is to dare, nobody epitomized it more than this guy. Thanks dada. For the wonderful memories….

Luis Figo- well he was a royal blagurana @ one point of time.

Leaving sports aside, from work perspective too this was a better year. Anything compared to the horror of 2008 seems to be a joyride.

Coming to the other obsession of India- entertainment, well let’s not gloss over the India TV report as to how voodoo was the reason behind Michael Jackson’s death. For me unlike what many experts might feel post the enormous success of 3 idiots, this year didn’t belong to Aamir Khan. This year belonged to one and only messiah of the masses. Guess……..who???….wrong. This year belongs to the great phenomenal KRK. His blockbuster might have released last year, but this was the year wherein he really stamped his mark as the true mass hero. “ I drink milk from Holland, water from France and tea from China “ have almost attained the Shakespearean proportions. I guess there are less people who know of the bards famous words in hamlet “to be or not be, that is the question” than KRK’s golden word. His highness the KRK is very humane, unlike all these powder puff chocolate boys, or the overtly hollow macho antics of our present heroes. Bigg Boss 3 finally gave an opportunity for this great star to shine brightly in before us.

Speaking of that show I for sure am gonna miss it. Another miss would be the MTv Roadies when I say it I mean, the THE ROADIES not the pathetic caricature which thought brawling on television and using expletives is a surefire formula for TRP success.

This year finally saw the long awaited home coming to Goa of the master dealer America Mumbai ( the initials are the jist, America esp coz I don’t many people have contributed to the growth of alternative industry in Big Sam like our comrade). Was a fun time when he was there as it’s always a roller coaster ride with this guy, provided his stomach is full. Barring that his crankiness equals Chinese torture.

All in all another year where I continued with crown of the eternal best man….

Censorship .. aargh! Has left my blog so saltless.

The Eternal Best Man- Part 3

Well before I continue where I left off. I guess I must make mention of something really interesting. Well I know this is a constant criticism about my writing, that in my case paraphernalia takes precedence over core substance. But still guys, I am writing a blog for myself right? So I am allowed a bit of leeway.

Cool! here it goes then. At the conclusion of my last blog I got a mail from a friend of mine. Well let’s call her London Jamaica Bristol. And these are the following questions she posed to me.

Who is this girl with the chemistry book?..and where is she now? Or perhaps you are going to elaborate in part 3. I do hope you are not about to tell me that she is now married to someone else?

The answer to these questions are as follows.

Name- hmmm I will call her Hubli (kimberley) Mysore

Where- I think Bangalore

Status- affirmative , she is married

Wow Dearie you nailed them all. I had heard about your intuition but have experienced it first hand now.

To continue from my last blog. History (it’s my fav subject besides geography) is defined more by people’s inaction rather than action. Case in point- Hitler and Osama. They would never have been what they are if the super powers of that time, nipped their actions in the bud.

Well my first tryst with romantic engagement was a colossal disaster as in that entire year that I was studying with her (actually she was my senior). I could never open my mouth in front of her literally. On the occasions when I had good fortune of a chance meeting with her, I was just tongue tied, and left with a dewy eyed idiotic expression- something between a smile and surprise. To cut the long story short, the best thing about my crush was that it was over.

The next year of my higher secondary passed of pretty uneventfully.

College days – Here comes the Alexander – Sameer the Great.

Now came the time as I stepped into this whole wide world as the college going man. Don’t really have many things to say that have not been said about college life but ya, those were surely the best days of my life……..

Well they say life is Ying Yang. As good as it was to be in college there is also a massive challenge of being in college for anyone attempting to maintain the sanctimony of the title of the eternal best man.

FYI what makes college life so challenging is its not just about learning and all. College is actually a “Dating Olympics” and unlike a normal Olympics which comes once in 4 years and lasts for a month. This ordeal lasts throughout your college life. What’s worse is you have to participate in each and every event till the time you finally lay your hands on the trophy (I know @ Olympics you win medals, I still go with trophy).

Coming back to my situation in my case the first year was fairly smooth sailing not without hiccoughs. But in all it was ok. Second year was when I faced my true test.

As I was saying this “Dating Olympics” well its tougher than even the Olympics where sadly India struggles to scrape with a medal. Just to illustrate my point I present to you some example of superlative feats my friends had to perform to win their trophies

Sample 1-V.K.- The person had to actually become a full time chaperon , well @ times he was also called treated like one of the specimens of the canine species, the most common of them.

Sample 2^nd -J.D.-Had to master the skills of shoe mending as an expert cobbler (disclaimer: the thoughts echoed here are in no way meant to be derogatory reference towards any particular community, I have highest regards for dignity of labour)

Sample 3^rd -A.F.-Had to master the skill of dangling from a tree. Well its almost like rolling back the years of our evolution from primates.

Sample 4^th- He chose the easiest route by juxtaposing the theory of friendship. To make myself very clear this guy took the exploitation of the most abused word in romantic lingo "friend" to whole different stratosphere....mmmmm control.. i mean level.

Sample 5^th-M.S.K- This takes the cookie or the cake … whatever. He had to actually be saddled with life long shoulder dislocation, courtesy a slap and subsequent fall from the ramparts of the college building. But he has survived to tell the tale that’s what matters, what’s more he has even made the trophy permanent.

P.S Sample no 1's trophy(ringmaster) was also responsible for alteration of my conventional understanding of the word cousin.

All said and done. The oft said proverb “everything is fair in love and war” actually holds true. In my case I had to get a trophy or something to pose with very badly.

Desperate times – Desperate measures, I chose the route of doing my graduation all over again. Upon the suggestion of our then office boy, I chose somebody who would be easy to handle yet allow me to take a break from all events @ the “Dating Olympic.” There’s a price to pay children,to be true to yourself in this world.

Not that it was totally boring it had its moments with assignments.. then there were more assignments, for a good measure there were also projects thrown in. MMMM… not to mention case discussions. Well after a host of all these magical moments, great comments, good grades and lots of revision. The day of reckoning arrived in the form of year end project…well that was that. It passed on without much thoroughfare … that was the best thing about it. I guess.

Here is where I round up the initial journey of this best man. I dunno whether I will ever be able to delve in to the remaining part of this incredible journey.

P.S. so guys if any of you’ll are getting married and need a best man you can avail of that facility by contacting me. My contact details are as follows.

Sameer Phal

H. No. 641/c, Kripadham,

New Vaddem, Vasco, Goa.

+91 9823185281

TERMS & CONDITIONS-

1) Thou shall not consume any alcoholic beverage in any form.

2) Pick up and drop facilities should be arranged

3) No worries (I swear on my unblemished record of heterosexuality) on bridesmaid harassment front. N.B. unless the girl happens to meet my criterion. (details of the same can be provided on due request).

TO BE CONCLUDED

The Eternal Best man- Part 2

The shrill din of criticism for my verbose style is still ringing in
my ears. I don’t want to present any riposte to it as I have been
reminded (and not so gently if I may say so) that the whole point of
writing a blog is to reach out to people, rather than make an
exhibition of my vocabulary. In lieu of these recent developments, I
have taken a stance of tempering my habit of flamboyance with words.
Yet my sincere hope is that even after this, my steak doesn't loose
all its sizzle.
Anybody who knows me, knows that I am a names guy and love naming
names. Well most of you'll also know that geography happens to be my
favourite subject. Hmmm I have decided to put both my penchants
together.
If you guys are wondering why The hell am I doing this. Then let me
tell you guys, its because the tough censorship laws which are binding
my potential shrapnels of thoughts.
Disclaimer-Responsibility of any associations or inferences drawn from
the names of places given to my characters lies solely with the person
imagining the same. I will neither confirm nor refute any claims with
regards to the same.
They say charity begins @ home. So here it is.
Yours truly will be hereinafter be known as Somalia.

My two subjects will be namely Mr. Jamnagar Durham & Mr. Vegas Kota.

Girl buddy -Gujarat.

The lonely P will be hereby known as Poland
And my quarry- Lakshadweep Kolar.

Have I been wandering like one of those lonely tortoises of that
oh! so popular game on FB. What is it called farmville isn't it? hmm.
Come back... lest I melt the effect of my freeze frame.

Hmm where was i, I was in that dimly lit room of incandescent light
alone with L. K. Classic "hum tum ek kamre mein bund ho"
situation. As I was saying I found myself alone with L. K
so what would you expect any mature guy in my situation would do.
I went up to her and looked in her eyes said "no need to say anything
I know what you want to say" and then the done to death sequence.
Ethnically Innovative in its presentation though. A Rose bud bending
over another rose bud,a shoe slipping over another,twittering
fluttering teeny tiny birds pecking each other. As the light dimmed
further I emerged out of shadows with scarlet lips :).

This is what should have a happened right?

But it didn't.

What did happen though was this.

Well as I was saying in that room lonely except for the two of us she said “ Hi Somalia I wanted to talk to you” . Hearing this, my hormones went into an overdrive. Sadly for me it was the adrenaline the fright-flight- fight reflex inducer. The alarm bells inside my not just started to ring they started to explode. And then I ran for my life, guys I am no Usain Bolt but that day on that semi lit narrow staircase I could have taken any body on.

P.S. My lips were scarlet, only I cant remember whether it was the bloody door or the freaking railing which got me.

Well! As they say life is one damned thing after another. The next chapter that I am going to narrate was perhaps happened at the time when I guess I was having first brush with the slippery slope of romance.

Well as I finished school and I entered junior college there was this romantic buzz all around. What with all these rose, chocolate and St. Valentine festivities running rings around you. It was mighty impossible not to get caught in that whirlwind.

One fateful day it happened, like the Italians call it I was hit by a thunderbolt, and fell for it hook–line-sinker. I was carrying a stack of biology journals out of the library and she was with her comprehensive chemistry 1996 revised edition, and I that’s when I saw her. It was like something from an old English movie, where the sailor sees the girl across the crowded dance floor, and he turns to his buddy and says, “See that girl? I’ m gonna marry her someday.”

And then at that moment, something happened that changed my life forever, to this I attribute the reason why I was never the same person again……….