Random Thoughts of a Demented Mind

Cartoons Are Not For Kids

2012-05-16T13:39:28Z

When asked, finance minister Pranab Mukherjee also endorsed the stand, saying, “Cartoons are for mature minds; not for children.” [Link]

If there was any doubt that Pranab-da would make as great a President as Pratibha Tai, this line removed it.

I agree with the great Pranab-da. Cartoons are not for the younglings. Never has been. What kind of example do you think a duck that does not wear pants sets for children? Yes I am talking about “rakhta hoon main khulla” Mr Donald Duck. Popeye becomes powerful and aggressive after eating spinach. Hah. Don’t I know that’s spinach is just an euphemism for “London se sex ki goliyaan”? Is this what kids should be taught is acceptable behavior?

Cartoon Network? Call it the Playboy Channel.

As for the offensive cartoon, I think most Indians are missing the point. It’s not that our elected representatives are hypersensitive about history or care much about the tortoise. They are genuinely concerned about the act that is being shown. Yes the use of whips by one person on another. What next will our kids learn? Chains? Blindfolds? Remember, there is only one person who can legally put a gag in our mouths. Kapil Sibal.

Now that cartoons in text books have been banned, I think our politicians should expand their scope, going after disturbing images in children’s textbooks—-a toad with its legs splayed obscenely showing its excretory system, diagrams explaining mensuration and that experiment with Schrodinger’s pussy…cat.

Other pressing problems of the nation can wait.

Rather than appreciating the efforts of our elected representatives to reform our education system, the Twitterati are chattering idly about them, using language that is hardly parliamentary. The problem is simple. The depiction of politicians in popular media as corrupt greedy merchants of avarice has been so damning that people have lost all faith in these fine servants of the people…And this conclusion is only the second thing that politicians cutting across party lines almost unanimously agree on (the first of course being to increase their salaries and perks).

The MPs alleged that cartoons, like Bolywood movies were part of the conspiracy to malign the political class, and should not be part of textbooks. Cartoons should be confined to columns of newspapers, they said….SP chief Mulayam Singh Yadav, TKS Elangovan (DMK), Dara Singh Chauhan (BSP), M Thambidurai (AIADMK), Shatabdi Roy (Trinamool Congress), Gurudas Dasgupta (CPI), Anant Geete (Shiv Sena), Basudeb Acharia (CPI-M) and Lalu Prasad (RJD) expressed concern over the wrong depiction of politicians in a sustained manner.

Yes. Which is why I believe a committee should be formed that should ban movies which depict politicians in a bad way. With Ms. Shatabdi Roy as chairperson. They should start with…let’s see..Akhri Rasta in which the politician played by Sadashiv Amrupurkar was the Devil incarnate. Or maybe they should not. Because it starred Jaya Prada, now a politician. Or maybe they should start with Aatanka which depicted a dystopian Kolkata under the thumb of villainous political overlords. I mention Aatanka because it is a movie that Ms. Shatabdi Roy quite definitely has seen. Simply because that was her debut film.

Some may say that people hate politicians not because of how they are drawn or how they are portrayed on screen. They hate them because of how they are. But of course these people are wrong. You cant blame them though. Their minds got perverted as kids reading cartoons.

Cause cartoons are for adults only. That’s why they elect them.

Middle Class Guilt And Satyamev Jayate

2012-05-09T02:18:02Z

It’s not easy being middle-class. Rising prices. Sweatier traffic jams. Global warming. And then there is that thing which keeps gnawing away at us, ceaselessly, like a rat at a sack of grain.

Guilt.

Guilt at how shallow we have become, how we choose that-which-is-fun over that-which-is-good. Social-media over social service. Junk food over vegetables. IPL over Tests. Katie Perry over Carnatic. Page 3 over the Editorials. “Oops pictures” over…you get the picture.

Of course, it’s never really our fault. It’s everyone else’s.

Authors write books that pander to the lowest-common-denominator. Greedy TV execs make TRP-friendly trash. Bad journalists peddle yellow copy.

If only “they” would give us something wholesome, we would consume it. And till they do, we just have to, with infinite reluctance, discuss how much weight Aishwarya Rai has gained post-pregnancy. Even though we should be talking about…mm…let’s see farmer suicides and child labor.

This pervasive guilt of course creates a demand. A demand for programming that is surreptitiously entertaining in a non-intrusive way while providing a “Look Ma, I am being socially conscious by watching this instead of a Zee re-incarnation soap” comfort-blanket to the middle-class audience.

This is when “Satyamev Jayate” steps up to the plate with less calories but the same great taste.

Dealing with issues-that-must-be-talked-about and helmed by Aamir Khan, whose image of a socially-conscious entertainer is pitch-perfect for the show’s general tenor, it has gasping audience members (the type last seen on Rakhi ki Insaaf), tastefully teary-eyed anchor (much more subtle than Rakhi Sawant not to mention pleasing on the eye), shocking personal stories of the kind that make morning talk shows such a darling of US programming, a dash of humor (the Salman Khan reference),somberly inspirational musical theme and, most tellingly, a concrete call to action designed to give the audience a much-needed sense of participation.

Yes it is commercial. Yes it is manipulative.

But it is also needed.

Because if there was no mega-celebrity, we would not watch. If there was not the egregious heart-string-pulling, we would change the channel. If there was not money to be made, the concept would never be greenlighted.

Is the treatment simple? Yes. It has to be. Is it non-edgy? Yes again. For the same reason—-it has to appeal to the mainstream in order to be commercially viable.

Would Aamir Khan’s 3 crores per episode be better used to benefit those that are the subject of the show, those that it claims it cares about?

Yeah. Sure. But it’s not as if anyone else would get this money if it did not go to Aamir Khan. We would not give Rs 300 to help a foundation that helps battered women. We would give 3 crores a pop though to see Aamir Khan’s handsome face and sensitively serious expressions of concern. Whose fault do you think that is?

Given the way we are and given how we like to spend our time, “Satyamev Jayate” is really the best one can hope for.And ultimately, if it ends up generating even a bit of awareness or, and I am being grossly optimistic here, the slightest of societal change, the show would be well worth it.

Even if it does neither and remains yet another exercise in massive money-making and audience entertainment, how worse will it be from everything else on TV?

Some Presidential Candidates I Would Like To See

2012-04-24T22:21:22Z

[With new updates]

1. Rajanikanth: Eternal favorite. Here is one person who everyone in India, North or South, can agree is awesome. With Rajani, we won’t need Inter continental Ballistic Missiles. He will point his finger and Helsinki will be obliterated in a second. Why just Helsinki? If he twirls his goggles, the shock waves of that act will travel light-years and rip off the testicles of the Klingon commander in Argelius V. Only he can tell China “I will do what I say. I will also do what I don’t say”, which is guaranteed to put the fear of God in those Godless Commies. The fear of Rajani more precisely.

2. Arundhati Roy: I may be wrong but Ms. Roy may have surrendered her Indian citizenship. Of course, metaphorically, of course. So she is definitely eligible for the post. A leading public intellectual and the toast of the chattering classes, she would bring to the Presidential post the same clarity of thought and pragmatism that she exhibits in her tweleve-page ramblings, which some believe is auto-generated from a dictionary of phrases like “Hindu right wing” ” military-government-industry cabal” and “exploitation of lower classes” and “Gandhi-ian with guns”, tracts of such marvelous quality that, aaj bhi mothers tell their babies “So ja naheen to Arundhati Roy ek aur twelve-pager likhegi”. Vice-president suggestion: Aakar Patel. Why have Aliens vs Predators when you can have both together, on the same side?

3. Mamata Banerjee: The Red Fort may become the Blue Fort. The country may become North Korea with its own government-run paper and TV channel that will carry government-positive-only stories. (Wait, that used to be Doordarshan. DD. Or Didi.) The person who used to campaign for President’s Rule, before she became Chief Minister and discovered the joys of federalism, may once again embrace the joys of President’s Rule because she will be the President herself. And boy, does she love her own Rule. And Rules. The benefits of Didi becoming the President are many, including but not limited to the fact that she will no longer be the Chief Minister of Bengal. And people can laugh again without looking over their shoulders.

4. Mahesh Bhatt: Many pundits say that it is now time to move on from 26/11 and reach out to Pakistan in the spirit of Aman-Asha. I agree. The best way to do this would have been to make Kasab President but then again since he is a Pakistani citizen, he perhaps is not eligible. Sania-Bhabhi would also be a good candidate as an emblem of cross-border bonhomie. But unfortunately she is below the age-threshold needed to be President. Though one can argue that if “true” age is defined by how fit and athletic one looks while moving, like say on a tennis court, then she definitely would qualify to be a BJP leader. Which leaves us with Mahesh Bhatt, who will be awesome in this context. Hell, he might even get Atif Aslam to sing our national anthem, Rock-Sufi style.

5. Robert Vadhra: See this guy already has immunity from searches at airports, like the President. So in a way, he is already, to quote Bon Jovi’s Living On a Prayer, “half-way there”. And we all know, Rahul Gandhi will become the Prime Minister, because, to quote Paolo Coelho, when someone in the Gandhi family wants something, the entire world (at least the Congress party) helps them attain it. With Robert as President, the whole Rashtra Pati Bhavan will become like a set of a Sooraj Barjatiya movie, with Dhiktana dances and friendly cricket games on the lawns. And never any friction, like once came to pass between President Zail Singh and Rajiv Gandhi.

6. Poonam Pandey: Comes with her own C-category security, strong enough to bounce back any missiles from foreign countries. Truly a commander-in-chief who shall lead from the front, enhanced as it is. One of the complaints about the Presidency over the years is that often the citizens have no idea as to what the President is doing. Poonam Pandey will rectify that by supplying an over-dose of information, helped by her dedicated (im) plants in the Press, who shall inform us, even when we do not want to know, every detail about her daily activities.

7. NOT Sachin Tendulkar. I know many people want Sachin to be the President. I certainly do not. First of all, his record of “leading” the team is not that great. Second, it is said that when he performs the team loses. So if he,as President gives a good speech, I am afraid the county might get invaded. Lastly, the President comes with a fixed-term of service. And Sachin, as we have seen of late, does not take kindly to upper-time-limits being imposed on his tenure. Since “No one can tell Sachin to step down” (Fundamental Axiom 1) and he might not want to either (Fundamental Axiom 2), this might create some Idi-Aminish problems.

8. Myself: Yes. Me. First of all, I am a minority candidate since I consider myself (like everybody does themselves) to be in the 10% category of smart Indians that Justice Katju has defined. I like to travel to foreign countries. I also like to host 7-course state dinners and live in a big big house. I can give speeches at will on various topics. After all I blog, don’t I? What will I do if the country faces an emergency, which is when the President is really needed, and I am called to make a critical decision?

Do exactly what those in power in Delhi today do. Ask Madam.

[Acknowledgement: Twitter for the "Didi=DD" reference]

IPL High Five

2012-04-19T15:43:57Z

I love IPL. Of course, just like most self-appointed cricket pundits, I blame it for everything—from Sehwag’s creaky shoulders to the declining moral standards of today’s kids (so much so that women are now being provided official “male escorts” in an IIT ). But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it, at least as much as I enjoy national treasure and my choice for the next President of India T Rajendar showing how…well…you decide [Video]

Correction. I used to love the IPL. A long time ago. This was when Lalit Modi, the second most controversial Modi in the country, a visionary like the Ringling brothers and Heff, used to be the impresario. He realized that people don’t as much love the game as they do the excitement. And so he manufactured it. Four-play. Fore-play. Fashion shows. Passion shows. Hyperventilating anchors. Hitting the sweet spot while being DLF-ed. Quick strategic time outs with just enough time for an out-and-out strategic quickie. Citi moments of success on the ground. Many more off it.

Sure it was not cricket. But why should it have to be? As a matter of fact, when I close my eyes, the most pleasant recollections of IPL are almost never truly cricketing. All the games have simply become in my mind, a continuum of vaguely formed images, set to Ravi Shastri saying “Nomoksar Kolkota are you ready?” , Arun Lal exclaiming “The excitement at the ground is just so exciting”, and Sunny’s contented “Mmm…mishti doi”. All a mess in my mind, a flicker of randomly moving bats and bouncing balls, jumbled up like the sequence of events or the faces of the actors in a porn video, sought to be recalled, years later.

Instead what remains in my memory, pure in its pristine tranquility, is Sreesanth, bawling like a baby whose diaper has not been changed by a forgetful nanny. Priety mam hugging every “Chikni Chameli” member of her team. Bhajji having his greatest moment after the 2001 Australia series, doing that “Dirty Dancing” lift immortalized by Patrick Swayze. And finally, those images from “IPL Nights” where the players were seen playing with comely lasses, and doing what they do best on-field—pinching a single, squeezing a double and surreptitiously stealing a triple.

Then they got rid of Lalit Modi. Of course, the hypocrites of this country could not tolerate a geeky guy having fun and then rubbing the faces of the rest into the mud with his “Doncha just want my lifestyle” arrogance. He was replaced by humorless, excitement-sucking Dementors, whose idea of fun lay in changing auction rules at the last moment, making rules that benefit some teams and not the others leaving a few with bigger purses than the rest, and in general being gigantic killjoys. As a result, when IPL 5 came along, I was feeling the same sense of excitement as I do after reading a tweet from the Prime Minister’s Office. The only saving grace in 2011 had been the orange-jerseyed, old-age-home that was the Kochi Tuskers and even that they had been done away with. Which is why for the first time since IPL began, I did not pen a pre-IPL post on the blog.

I thought I had grown out of it all.

I was wrong.

The first stirrings were felt when I saw pictures of the sumptuous Katy Perry, who by virtue of having solemnized her now-broken marriage in India is an honorary “gaon ki beti”, being held “cross-seam” by Douglas Bollinger (pic courtesy Gulf News), in a very Bullah mood. This was IPL gold. The second fauladi mukka was the news that Salman Khan’s bodyguard had been hired to protect the Rajasthan Royals. As a keen between-the-lines-reader, I saw the item for what it actually was. No. Not a move to protect the players from the fans. But to protect the fans from the players. From a particular player, to be precise. Namely RR’s newest acquisition, Sreesanth, who had already gotten into trouble for scaling a wall, a fact that would not have gone down well with either the wall or “The Wall”, or for that matter with the franchise owners, who have been worried about unwelcome intrusions ever since baboons got into their room during IPL 2.

More was to come. While I was reluctantly getting adjusted to Archana Vijay, who honestly is a far less pleasant sight than Murali Vijay (Archana Vijay may be the better batsman on current form though), I perceived the new Rabindra-sangeet-friendly KKR cheerleaders. A sharp intake of breath. A romantic sensation. Just like the first time I saw Peter Jackson’s imagining of Saruman’s genetically-manufactured uber-Orcs, the Uruk-Hai. Beautiful.

What really shivered by timbers however was the incident in the match between the Deccan Chargers and Mumbai Indians. In it, after a decision went against them, Bhajji and Munaf Patel went ape-shit on the umpire (image via MSN), in a way that made Gatting of Gatting-Shakoor Rana fame look positively Gandhiian. I thought to myself then “These guys would be lucky if they get away with a 3-game ban. Honestly the captain should be put away for the tournament.” Till, of course, the camera moved to the franchise owner Nita-bhabhi who had on her face, an indulgent “Kindly adjust or you are a child-hating curmudgeon” smile, the kind a guardian gives while her cherubic wards trash your living room. I knew it then. Nothing would happen. And I was right. Well, to be honest, the two men were chided a bit for being naughty. What punishment did they get? The same that Ganguly got for wearing improper dress.

And now with all this happening, I can truly say that I am getting into the IPL groove once again. Sure the Pied Piper is no longer there. Sure we miss the South African beauty queens, the “brand ambassadors” and the “motivators”. Sure the Bangladesh Premier League and the Duronto Rajshahis have taken some of IPL’s thunder. But there are other things going on, like Priety Zinta’s endearingly animated khalbali after that doubtful catch was upheld against Marsh and Sania Bhabhi and Pakistan-putra becoming official Pune cheerleaders.

I will just have to keep my eyes open.

Any cricket I see will be purely incidental.

Hitting Vegas

2012-04-13T01:40:21Z

[A much shorter version of this piece appeared in HT Brunch, Mumbai, April 8, 2012.]

Suave as Danny Ocean. Wild as the boys of Hangover. Seductively heartless as Ace Rothstein in Casino.

There may be better gambling holes around the world. Debauchery may be more debauched elsewhere. But, make no mistake there is only one “Sin City”.

And sin sells.

No matter what your opinions about Vegas, there is one thing you just have to admire—–the way it has used popular culture, from Elvis and Sinatra to Clooney and Copperfield, to create a mystique around itself.

Brand managers, watch and learn.

Like all iconic products, Vegas does provoke extreme reactions. Many put their life savings at the poker table or stuff it all in the thongs of a stripper. (I have personally seen a devotee being removed in a stretcher from the slot machines, in the throes of a cardiac arrest.) And then there are others who hate it with a passion—”There is nothing to see!”

Absolutely right. There is nothing to see, unless you find over-the-top garishness of the hotels—- the well-fed lions of MGM Grand, the artificial volcano at the Mirage (the music provided by Zakir Hussain and Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart), the fountains of the Bellagio and the rather childishly “adult” pirates show at Treasure Island endlessly fascinating.

There is however everything to do. Yes you do not visit Vegas. You do it.

One way of doing Vegas is as the genuine high-roller. Put a million at the poker table. Check into a 40,000 dollar suite. Butler, personal gourmet chef, a basketball court, a bowling alley, rotating beds with mirrors on the ceiling, a dance floor, a swimming pool, a champagne bath—any opulence you can dream of, Vegas has put it in your room.

But of course unless you are a professional Indian politician, you don’t have that much to spread around. So what to do then? Well this is where Vegas is so great. It allows you to live the fantasy, getting you as close to the life of a Heff, a Timberlake, a P Daddy as you could ever get, on a light wallet. But for that, you need to play your chips correct.

How do you do that? Read on.

As you might have figured out, without me telling you this, Las Vegas isn’t really the best place for a “Hum Aapke Hain Kaun” family outing with Baba and Ma come recently from India. Alok Naths of the world, this is not for you. The city is also not enjoyed alone. Always try to come with someone else—either with your partner, or in a group of friends. Vegas, unlike an ice cream, is much better when it is shared.

The main action in Vegas is along the four-mile stretch of hotels and casinos called the Strip. Especially if this is your first time, you are strongly advised to stay on the Strip. Sure hotels off the Strip may be cheaper but only if you stay on the Strip, can you take the famed late-night walk down the main boulevard, knees still wobbling, take in the energy of the multitude of partiers on the street and then finally dive into one of the steak-eggs-coffee places for a 4 am breakfast (I strongly recommend the one at Bill’s Gambling Hall). If you are budget-conscious, try getting toVegas on weekdays when even the best of hotels on the Strip have outrageous specials. But Vegas truly comes alive on weekends and so while the rates bump up then, there are still places on the Strip that you can stay real cheap, if all you are interested in is a bed and a working flush. Trust me. You need these two. At the minimum. For the rest, right up to the personal masseur, you pay as you go.

Food. One of the urban legends of Vegas is that food is dirt cheap. It used to be, once upon a time, when the hotels used cheap buffets to get clients into the door with the expectation that they would then play in their casinos. The business model no longer works and so the buffets are not subsidized any more. My recommendation: do not get too hung upon gustatory delights, it is not among the best things about Vegas. Save your money for the drinks. Especially the tall, really tall, alcoholic concoctions that fetching ladies sell street-side.

And definitely save for the shows. Vegas is famous for live-shows with every hotel having their own line-up. There is a wide variety to choose from— stand-up, magic, magic-stand-up, vaudeville, Broadway shows, circuses and adult productions. The tickets are expensive—from 60 bucks to the cheapest seats to 175 for the good ones. The Vegas experience requires a show or two, especially if you are there with a significant other. Maybe not so much with a group of raucous friends. My personal recommendation: catch a Cirque Du Soleil show—this troupe of dancer acrobats are a visual delight, you would not believe what is possible with the human body and with stage design unless you see them in action. The other recommendation. Avoid the “adult shows” like the plague. They are a waste of time. If that is the kind of thing you are looking for, go to one of the innumerable strip clubs that are a few miles away. The entertainment there will be cheaper and a lot more aligned with what you are really looking for. Call ahead, and some of them even send a free black limo to your hotel (you simply tip the chauffeur), if it be on the Strip. Total victory, as they say.

Wait. What about gambling? Coming to that. Visiting Vegas and not sitting at the tables is like going to a T20 game and not getting to see a single six. It is a must-do if only to get in touch with the inner “Great Gambler” inside you. If you are a seasoned player, feel free to skip this paragraph. If like me, you are a recreational one, listen to his carefully. Always fix an upper bound to the amount of money you will play and do not, under any circumstance, go over that. Once you are at a table, the lights are a-glowing, the drinks are a-coming, the chips are a-moving, it is very easy to cash in your five brothers and spouse at the cashier’s cage. It is that addictive. Remember a few things. Do not play the slot machines, they are not called the one-arm bandits for nothing. The best game for beginners is blackjack, the House’s edge there is the least, and since you play direct with the dealer, the skill of the other people at the table does not affect your chance of winning at all. There are blackjack strategy guides on the Net (easy to memorize) and online simulators on which you can practice so that you don’t look like a klutz at the table.

Finally, Vegas is always a place for deals, if you do not mind a bit of scavenging. Have an hour or two of moderate sobriety to spare? Listen to the timeshare presentations, being aggressively peddled in the hotels. You will get free show tickets and buffet passes. Ask at the hotel for coupon books. Wake up early (in Vegas that is 10 am) and stand in front of booths where they sell show unsold tickets for that day at half-price.

Sell your personal information to casinos for players cards (cheaper than selling your soul) and get a few more deals, including free money to play at the slots.

If you forget everything I have told you, remember this. The House always wins. Just like Death. That is inevitable. So don’t worry. The trick is to enjoy the ride, to know when to hit, when to stay, when to double down and most importantly, when to split.

Think you got what it takes? Then welcome to Vegas. Welcome to Life.

Lord of The Twits: 100 Followers in 10 Days

2012-04-07T13:55:28Z

[Crossposted from my Outlook article here on strategies for increasing Twitter followers]

Start off by tweets that contain words like “Justin Beiber”, “IPod” and you will find an army of bots (automated spam followers) attaching like ants over a lump of sugar. Bots are some of the best followers—they swell your numbers, do not snap back and put the faces of celebrities as profile pictures so that you can delude yourself into thinking, even if for a split second, that Megan Fox is following you.

On the topic of profile pictures, here is an important tip. If you are a woman, please include a “hot” picture of yourself. It does not have to be revealing (although some tasteful cleavage can sometimes go a long way) but something that is both seductive as well as mysterious, like an eye or a glistening red lip, framed in shadows. A bare ankle (with anklet) or the back of the neck can do wonders.

Remember Photoshop is your friend. So are words.

For your profile description, use words like “bi-curious”, “slut for love” and lines like “Your mummy won’t like me, your daddy will” and “My job is blowing”.

Tweet about that New York-returned banker you met in a Roberto Cavalli event and then went home and made wild love with. Your little stories, by the way, don’t need to be true. Just ” smokin’ hawt”.

If truly desperate, tweet a picture of yourself in a bikini or in the shower or promise to strip if India wins a cricket…oh wait that has already been done.

Well then how about the cutie-pie route? Put a picture of Ayesha Takia as your profile picture and say “I aM a SweeT gAL” . That, I have been told, also works. If you are a guy, please try none of the above, especially not the “slut for love” or the “My job is blowing” bit. If you just must, go with the Takia picture. I have been told that is very effective across the board.

Now listen to this next bit of advice carefully. You must learn how to strategically troll. Remember that in order to get followers fast, one has to get noticed. And nothing does the job better in the Indian twittersphere than picking up a fight with a celebrity. Celebrities have lots of followers and egos as big as all outdoors. Most importantly, some of them fight back at trolls who hit a soft spot. The best type of celebrities to focus attention on are B and C-grade Bolly stars (they have time to respond to tweets and also are touchy about their perceived images), media magnates (same reason) and Twitter stars (stars who are stars for their tweets and that is the sum total of their achievement). If you are able to really make them angry, these celebrities will re-tweet your tweet so that his/her fans can then come after you. Sure, his/her fans might give you hell. But remember for every fan, the celebrity has a hater. They will then come and follow you. Even some of the fans. Just to keep a watch on what you say in future.

Sometimes a kind word goes further than a biting one. Positive trolling is the art of deliberately massaging celebrity ego, again in the hope of a re-tweet or, if the stars be even aligned, even a follow. A follow from a celebrity. The holy grail for puny tweeters. But remember, a lot of people are trying to get into the good books of celebrities. Given that, you need to distinguish yourself, by 1) taking on the negative trolls with the enthusiasm of a attack dog or 2) praise that person at a time when he/she needs it the most (a movie just released, scam just unearthed).

When you are tweeting, remember to use humor. It makes you look smart and sexy. Cannot be funny to save your life? Copy someone else’s tweet and pass it off as your own.

Get involved in outrages. Everyday there is digital froth on Twitter over something or the other. Tip: Look at trending topics for hints. Once you identify a topic, get suitably furious, and let loose on your keyboard. People love those easily outraged. No wonder then that the nation adores Arnab Goswami.

Last bit of advice. Be shameless in asking people to follow you. For more tips on how to increase followers, follow me at @greatbong.

Got it now? You have to be that shameless.

The Asli Agent Vinod

2012-03-25T02:27:18Z

[Also published in DNA]

Gather round, children. Today I shall tell you the story of Agent Vinod. Not the Saif Ali Khan- Agent Vinod but the one who came before him, the original “Agent Vinod” from the 1977 movie with the same name.

It was a landmark year for international intrigue. Times were so bad that Iftikaar, known to play the staid police commissioner who encircles the bad guys ( “Police tumhe chaaron tarah se gher liya hai”), had crossed over to the dark side. There he was heading an international gang of intrigue, which not content with blowing up what looked suspiciously on-screen like toy-trains and doll-houses, had also hatched a sinister plot which involved kidnapping and imprisoning great scientist Ajay Saxena (Nazir Hussain) in a lair that had sharp dildos descending from the roof and, even more dangerously, lip-shaped TV screens. Why did they do this? So that they could obtain from him a secret formula he had developed, one that could negate even the effects of a Hydrogen-bomb.

And that plot would have succeeded had it not been for Agent Vinod, played with aplomb by the Daniel-Craig-look-alike Mahendra Sandhu. Do not be fooled by his cross-eyed, paunchy, hairy exterior. Do not be taken in by his cringe-inducing shayris and the bizarre English proverbs like “Never shoot a guy who gives you a gun”.

For Agent Vinod was quite the player. He dispatched villains by spinning like a top on a revolving chair. He assaulted their arses with strategically placed cacti. He ate with chop sticks. He somersaulted from six stories up to land perfectly on a motorcycle parked below. He seduced armies of bell-bottom-clad comely aunties with a wink and a knowing smile, which made them all “paseena paseena”. He discovered spies and moles like a bear does honey, helped only mildly by the fact that the under-cover bad guys all had prominent scorpion tattoos on their hands.

Nothing surprising in all this marvelousness for as his boss, the redoubtable spy-master (played by K.N.Singh) said with barely concealed reverence—- “woh lomri ka dimaag rakhta hai aur sher ka jigar.” Even the bad men knew not to mess with him. For instance, when once one of them said “Hands up” and Agent Vinod retorted “Mera haath upar karoonga to qayamat a jayega”, they hesitated for a vital second, worried as to what hell might emanate from his sher-like armpits.

Does the new agent Vinod command that respect? I don’t think so. He is too busy slapping people that come in the way of him and his friends having a good time.

The old Agent Vinod too had great friends, without whom he would not have succeeded— a side-kick named James Bond (played by Jagdeep) who wore the hat from Dr. Seuss’s “Cat In the Hat”, a fisherwoman, a Sardarji, a lady-love Anju(Asha Sachdev) and most importantly, a Sanath Jayasurya-lookalike scientist.who worked in a laboratory with beakers full of chemicals which, to an untrained eye, looked like orange drink made from Rasna concentrate.

If there is any doubt left that the original Agent Vinod was awesome, sample this sequence.

Anju (Asha Sachdev) uses two marks of a black pen to paint a moustache so that she can pretend to be a man. So masterful is her disguise that even the Lomri-dimaag Agent finds it difficult to recognize her as a woman, despite her rather prominent Anjus. He asks “him” “his name”. “Ram Singh” is the answer. To which he reaches forward, massages her/his thighs and says with a wink “Tumhara naam aaj se Mulayam Singh rakh lo”.

Smart. Sexy. And still politically relevant after all these years. That’s the old Agent Vinod for you.

A classic.

The Mine is now available for Kindle. Please use this link to buy the book if you are outside India.

The Essential Soumitra

2012-03-23T14:22:21Z

Apur Sansar: For Apur Sansar, the final film in the “Apu Trilogy”, the great director plucked a young radio announcer and small-time theater actor from anonymity to play the titular role. Soumitra Chatterjee. Nurtured by Ray’s genius, Soumitra brought to the world of light and shadows the unforgettable character of Apu, boyishly handsome, romantically intense and poetically fragile, journeying on the lyrical road of life, pushing aside the poverty, despondency and death that he encounters on the way. That last scene of “Apur Sansar” in which Apu’s face becomes an almost wordless kaleidoscope of sadness, joy, guilt and hope as he reunites with his estranged son Kajal is so heart-wrenching that not even the greatest curmudgeon can prevent the eyes from welling up with tears. It was as triumphant an arrival of a great actor as one could hope for. So sensational was he that would go on to become the exacting Ray’s favorite actor for all time.

Jhinder Bandi: If the Tamils have their Rajani vs Kamal Hassan, the Bengalis had Soumitra vs Uttam. Who is the better actor? Who is more drool-worthy? The verdict is still divided, just like whether ilish tastes better with shorshe (mustard) or as a patla jhol (thin curry). Tapan Sinha’s adaptation of The Prisoner of Zenda, “Jhinder Bandi” pits the two demi-gods against each other in Douglas Fairbankian sword-play, with Uttam as the hero and Soumitra as the anti-hero. Who won this battle of performances? Many think it was Soumitra.

Abhijaan: Soumitra would go on to make his career playing the Bangali male ideal. In “Abhijaan”, definitely Ray’s darkest film, he goes absolutely against type to play an angry uber-macho Rajput cab-driver, who lives on the edge—whether it be speeding his cab on unsteady highways, walking on the wrong side of the law or getting involved with risky women. One of Soumitra’s most intriguing roles, purely because of how outside his comfort zone he is, “Abhijaan” highlights one of the most important attributes of a true artist. The courage to take a risk.

Saat Paake Bandha: One of the best non-Ray Bengali films of the era, sitting perfectly at the cusp of popular and arthouse, Ajoy Kar’s “Saat Paake Bandha” is a fascinatingly mature deconstruction of the break-up of a marriage . Cast opposite the legendary Suchitra Sen, a formidable actress herself and the one given the meatier part, Soumitra still manages to steal the show as the vulnerable, unyielding husband, too proud to compromise, even as the beautiful relationship he has his with his wife dissolves . Possibly, his most nuanced performance in a non-Ray film, he makes you feel for him and his internal conflict.

Charulata: Satyajit Ray’s greatest work. Soumitra plays a character modelled on Rabindranath Tagore, and if that is not challenge enough, the focus of the film is firmly on Charulata (played by Madhabi Mukherjee), the bored wife of an emotionally unavailable zamindar, whose lonely life is thrown into emotional tumult by the arrival of her husband’s brother, “Thakurpo” Amal. Playing a somewhat self-absorbed l‘homme fatale, nonchalantly unaware of the effect he has on women as he flits poetically about with dreams of Mediterranean in his eyes, this is yet another tour d’force from the master thespian.

Akash Kusum: A tragi-comedy about the lies we say for love, a show-case for freeze-frames and other Truffaut-inspired cinematic techniques considered “edgy” for the times, and an extended Marxist metaphor for class-struggle, Mrinal Sen’s “Akash Kusum” is an eternal favorite for Soumitra-fans. Here he plays an urban, lower-middle-class Bengali man who borrows the trappings of affluence from his rich friend in order to impress the girl of his dreams. Many of you have seen the comparatively feeble Hindi re-make, “Manzil”, that finishes with Amitabh Bachchan reading a book titled Physics and winning back the object of his love. More bleak is the Bengali original wherein the tragedy of a man, trapped by birth and circumstance and yet brave enough to reach for the sky and accept the reality of his glorious failure with a last longing look, is brought out brilliantly by Soumitra.

Kapurush: An under-appreciated Ray classic, Soumitra plays a largely unlikeable hero, spineless and timid with a streak of absolute selfishness, who abandons his strong-willed girl-friend once and then, after a chance encounter, tries to win her back. It is a very difficult role, as Soumitra, like a master painter, takes the stereotype of the Bengali romantic hero and daubs it with strategic strokes of grey. A must-watch.

Teen Bhuboner Paarey: A rather standard issue story of the curative power of love, this is essential for the Soumitra experience purely because of how effectively he discards his cerebral serious image to embrace pure commercial cinema. One of his biggest commercial hits, it had amazing music, sizzling chemistry between him and Tanuja and Soumitro essaying the role of a wise-cracking chengra chele” (rough translation: bad boy). And yes he also dances the twist. He would go on to do a few more light frothy romantic comedies like this (“Basanta Bilaap” comes to mind where “Miss 1976″ Aparna Sen sings seductively about her “statistics” while Soumitra goofs around disguised as an old man), ,making out-and-out commerci al movies another vital part of his oeuvre.

Sonar Kella: Soumitra plays Feluda, the iconic Bengali detective. He plays it so well that he essentially kills the character—none of the actors who have tried to play Feluda after him could fill his shoes. The original is just too overpowering. Here the g reat man is timing personified—whether it be his significant silences, the sarcastic wisecrack thrown carelessly, the contemplative arch of the eyebrow or the whipping out of the pistol. Sonar Kella is all fun, and there are many fine reasons for watching it, none greater than of course Soumitra’s rugged suavity.

Aatanka: “Apni kichu dekhen ni”. You have not seen anything. A hellish vision of urban dystopia in modern-day Kolkata, Tapan Sinha’s terrifying “Aatanka” has the finest of Soumitra Chatterjee’s later performances. As the idealistic school-teacher whose family is plunged into an unending nightmare after he witnesses a political murder committed by an ex-student, Soumitra’s character becomes a metaphor for the Apu-generation, old and disillusioned in the 80s, their post-independence optimism replaced by bewilderment at a world whose unrelenting evil they can scarcely comprehend. Truly an acting masterclass.

[This post also appears here at IBNLive]

The TMC’s DNA

2012-03-20T05:06:40Z

“The rail hike is against Trinamool’s DNA”. —Derek O’Brien, Trinamool MP

Over the past few years, in a series of blog posts, I have put the three-leaf-clover of the Trinamool under my electron microscope, trying to decode its DNA. My conclusion, not that it is particularly novel, was that “What people were calling the eclipsing of Communism in Bengal with Buddhadev’s defeat was actually its revival. Because Trinamool’s DNA is an exact clone of what used to be the CPM’s DNA under Jyoti Basu.” ”Under Jyoti Basu” is a significant modifier because there had been a slight jiggling of the CPM DNA during the rule of Buddhadev Bhattacharya, where based on some genetic perturbations, the new leader had come to embrace concepts hethetro considered anathema to the Communists, like the aggressive wooing of industrial investment. It was not however an X-Men type radical mutation, (which was what was needed) because when push came to shove (with Didi providing both the push as well as the shove), Buddhadev was found to be unwilling, or unable to, chemo out the cancer of ”party”-sponsored violence and intimidation.

What I had said, of course, had been based on my own observations of Mamata Banerjee’s ”scorched earth” tactics of political agitation when she was in the opposition, tactics that had been used by the Left Front to propel themselves into power eons ago.

Has the fundamental nature of the TMC changed, now that she is in power?

Sadly no.

As a matter of fact, TMC-raaj has reflected, sometimes in almost bizarre ways, its similitude with the Left Front rule under Jyoti Basu. But then again, DNA’s don’t really change, do they now?

In the last paragraph, I have used the word “bizarre”. Here is how bizarre. Didi has recently mandated that the city of Kolkata be painted blue because the “sky does not have any limit.” [Video]. This is of course a sagacious move since it stands to reason that using crores of public money to paint the city blue will go further in unlocking its limitless potential than spending that money to fix some of its well-documented but less-poetic problems. [Link]. For those of us old enough to think of Mahender Sandhu’s face rather than Saif Ali Khan’s when “Agent Vinod” is mentioned, this move jogged back memories—memories of an old acolyte of Jyoti Basu by the name of Jatin Chakraborty, who as the Public Works Department minister had commanded the top of the Ochterloney Monument (now called Shaheed Minar) to be painted red. Red because that is the color of the blood of martyrs. And so the crown of one of Calcutta’s most recognizable monuments was painted as crimson as a baboon’s bottom and there it stayed, till Jatin Chakraborty fell out of favor with Jyoti Basu, over the “Bengal Lamp” controversy. Painting walls and monuments, in what may be considered by some to be a gesture of triumphalism (Red= Communist, Blue= Not Red) is something that is common to both the TMC and the Jyoti-Basu CPM’s political DNA. In TMC’s defense though, they could well have asked the city to be painted Green (Green=regeneration). Blue, at least, is a better color. Plus it is considered to be an appetite suppressant.

Then of course, is the CPM and TMC’s attitude towards industry. Over here, I am not just referring to the love both share for militant trade-unionship but to the general cluelessness displayed by their respective leaders in knowing how to attract investment. If anyone ever heard Jyoti Basu trying to invite industry to invest in the state, one would be forgiven for thinking that it is he who was doing industry a favor by deigning to talk to them, an attitude no doubt inherited from decades of being brainwashed by a philosophy that demonizes anyone who has a profit-motive. Cut forward to a few decades to Mamata Banerjee’s address at Bengal Leads 2012. It’s not just statements like Bangladesh sharing a border with Pakistan that was shockingly unprofessional but the general tenor of her talk where she individually names the captains of industry sitting in the audience and asks each of them “Why do you not invest in Bengal?” [Link]

The business community had an unexpected grilling at the hands of chief minister Mamata Banerjee at Bengal Leads 2012 on Monday. Some of them were called out by name and asked to explain why they have not invested in the state so far, despite ‘the ground having been cleared’.

“I may not know as much as you do… but may I ask what is it that’s stopping you from investing in Bengal?” asked Mamata, who took a bullish posture in pleading for quick investment at the meet. First, she singled out the representatives of foreign nations who were seated in the front rows. It was then the turn of the local industrialists to face her questions.

” Japan, do you want to invest in Bengal?” she asked a Japanese delegation. “What about my Chinese friends? US? Are you interested? UK? My German friends?” she queried. As some German representatives nodded in affirmation, the chief minister looked pleased and thanked them. “Bangladesh er keu achen ki?” she wanted to know. As none responded, she turned back to the bureaucrats seated on the dais and asked, “Didn’t you invite them?”

It was then the local industry’s turn to face her inquest. ITC chairman Y C Deveshwar was the first to be picked out. Then JSW chairman, managing director Sajjan Jindal. “ITC? Interested? DLF? Mr Jindal when will your industry happen? We have done everything possible to clear your proposals fast, haven’t we?” she said. “And what about you Mr Patton Tank?” she asked industrialist Sanjay Budhia, MD of the Patton Group. “

Now supporters of Didi, and there are innumerably many, would say that this kind of chuminess is “Didi’s oratorical style”. It was definitely original. But given Bengal’s less-than-stellar record of attracting and retaining industrial investment, would not just a presentation with facts and figures and policy statements, go more towards showing that the new government means business, than doing what TOI rightly refers to as “grilling” wherein individuals are asked to stand up and answer, schoolboy style? Does anyone think that captains of industry will say the truth when cornered in a public forum on camera? Okay. Can we at least agree that calling the MD of the Patton Group “Mr. Patton Tank” does not exactly convey the serious “I want your business” professionalism that would be apposite for such an address?

Next we come to the “conspiracy theories”. If you think that Zaid Hameed and Basit Ali are a bit over-the-top, you have not listened to the CPM party leadership. Short of alien abductions and anal probes, they exhausted every conspiracy theory in their decades in power. Dunkell of the dreaded General Agreement on Trade and Tariff. Reagan. Bush. The World Bank. The World Trade Organization. The Central government or more accurately their “stepmotherly treatment”. Each and every one of them was blamed for being in on a gigantic Dan-Brownish conspiracy to strangle the people’s republic of West Bengal. Not that the state did not have genuine grievances, freight equalization and Congress’s pandering of their stronghold states in favor of West Bengal for example, but to lay the entire blame for Bengal’s misgovernment on them was to, put it mildly, outrageous. During the last election campaign and before too, the CPM (and yes this was under Buddhadev) repeatedly accused Mamata Banerjee of being in the pay of the USA. Which when you think of it is very plausible—since Obama, as we know, is briefed everyday in the morning about developments in West Bengal and the West Bank.

One would have thought that Didi, who had been the object of vituperative attacks by the CPM, would do things differently. Alas not. When an alarming number of crib deaths were reported from government hospitals, it was blamed on a CPM conspiracy. When a woman was raped in a moving vehicle in Calcutta, Didi called it all fabricated, a conspiracy against her government. Then when the truth of the rape could not be denied (thanks to Joint Commisioner of Police Damayanti Sen’s exemplary competence ) , she accused a media house, ironically the one which had been her biggest cheerleader for decades, of manipulating it at all. And if that was not enough, a Trinamool minister blamed the victim for the rape and called her character into question : “She has two children, and so far as I know, she is separated from her husband. What was she doing at a nightclub so late at night?”

Perhaps plotting against the government.

When yet another woman was raped, Didi blamed it on….yes…you know exactly whom she blamed it on.

Less than a fortnight after drawing flak for her disparaging comments on the Park Street rape victim, Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee on Tuesday squarely blamed the Left for the deteriorating law and order condition in West Bengal. She claimed that the 30-year-old woman allegedly raped by a gang of armed robbers on Sunday too was a set-up. Mamata also hit out at the Left over the recent spate of crib deaths in the state, saying it was an attempt to discredit her government

“Fake rape charges are being levelled to malign Bengal’s good name. Baby deaths too are a planned conspiracy by the Left,” said Mamata. She added, “Six rapes were reported in Delhi yesterday. In Bengal, there shouldn’t be any such instance. After all, we are all decent people here.”

With the district collector of Burdwan in tow, the first woman chief minister of the state seemed to rubbish the 30-year-old rape victim’s claims, saying that she was the wife of a CPM worker and a part of an elaborate Left conspiracy against her government.

“Medical evidence has proved that she was not raped. The girl said that her husband is a local CPM worker,” Mamata claimed.

The woman, whose husband has been dead for 11 years, said she was hurt by the chief minister’s claims. “She (Mamata Banerjee) is a woman. She should know a woman will never go on her own and say that she was raped. I am very hurt.”

Now one may be wondering, especially if one is aware of the rather militantly agitational nature of Kolkata’s much-vaunted intelligentsia, where are they in the midst of it all? Surely blaming the victim or casting aspersions on her character would be enough to get a few dharnas out on the street, like how all the “natyokormis” (theater-workers) and assorted intellectuals, ran around like screaming banshees during Nandigram-Singur. So what happened now? Exactly what happened to the intellectuals during Jyoti Basu’s rule. They developed decades of strep-throat, maintaining radio silence during rapes at Bantala and Birati. Of course small matters like periodic scraps thrown at them through the organization of soirees at Nandan, appointment to committees and asking them to sing at union events, had nothing to do with the loss of their revolutionary voice. Under the new TMC administration, intellectuals (who claim to be “independent”) have been similarly satisfied , getting plum posts in nice places. All a co-incidence of course.

If painting the city, blaming others and pandering to intellectuals are the Thyamine, Adenine and Cytosine then populism is surely the Guanine. While in opposition, both the TMC and the old CPM used bandhs as a show of strength, a bargaining chip and most importantly as a move that was killer in its populism–who does not like a free holiday while at the same time feeling good about supporting a cause (unless you have someone critically ill or a non-postponeable examination to take)? Now of course, TMC has realized its mistake and wants to cut the salaries of everyone who skipped work because of the last bandh (not supported by them). The fact that they are now in power has of course nothing to do with this most convenient change of heart.

And to be honest, why does one need a Bandh? One can achieve the same goals by just…let’s see…declaring a new holiday. Same loss of productivity, same feel good.

It is this type of “Doctor na fees maangi hai” Clerkish populism that characterizes most of TMC’s decisions. FDI in retail? Let’s take the old Marxist angle—the US imperialist chains will strangle the poor Indian retailer. Is this the truth? No. Is this a story that the public will buy? Definitely. Hence TMC opposes FDI in retail. Just like the CPM opposed computerization in the 80s because then people would lose jobs, Uncle Sam would steal the ilish fish and cyborgs would take over Writer’s Building.

Is an across-the-board increase in railway fares, imperative for recouping operational costs, needed? Yes. Will opposing it strengthen the Ma-Maati-Manush populist image? Definitely. Hence TMC opposes increase in rail fares.

And finally, the TMC is all about Mamata Banerjee. There is but one voice, one leader and anyone who goes against what she wants, has no place in its politics. In this respect, it is not much different from most political parties in India, which are almost all personality-driven, autocratic and brook no dissent. Remember Somnath Chatterjee? His years of seniority and stellar record (ironically it was he who lost to Mamata Banerjee when she was an unknown during the Rajiv wave of 1985), did nothing to protect him when he took a stance against the CPM.

But one thing needs mention.What others perceive as TMC’s capriciousness is perfectly consistent with the politics of Mamata Banerjee and her history of agitation. That she passionately hates the CPM is well known. What is not that well-understood is that she has an almost equal distaste for the Congress, her old party which she very appropriately called out as “the B team of the CPM”. The Congress was very much a nudge-nudge-wink-wink opposition to the CPM for decades, whose central leadership, more than once, hung her out to dry to curry favor from the CPM for support in Delhi. For decades without the support of a party, she waged a lone battle against the formidable CPM machinery, sometimes at great personal risk to her safety (she was almost killed by an attack on her during a rally). It was she who, again in an effort spanning years, built for herself the grassroots organization (mostly from ex-CPM power-merchants perceptive enough to see how Buddha was losing control) that is now the TMC. For the Congress, which had tried to sabotage her at every step, if they think she is going to give them her unqualified support, well they need to stop smoking whatever it is they are.

In this context, one recalls the years Didi spent asking the Center to impose President’s rule in Bengal and Congress turning a deaf ear to her impassioned plea. [Link]

Taking the battle against the Left Front government in West Bengal [ Images ] to the Centre, Railway Minister Mamata Banerjee on Tuesday met Home Minister P Chidamabaram and demanded the imposition of President’s rule to ‘save democracy’ in the state.
“The Centre should dismiss the state government and impose President’s rule as it is necessary to save democracy there,” she told reporters after meeting Chidambaram. The Trinamool Congress chief said the Centre should utilise the provisions under Article 355 (to protect a state against external aggression and internal disturbance) followed by Article 356 (to dismiss a state government and impose President’s rule) so as to restore the rule of the law in West Bengal.

Yes. The same person who opposes measures like NCTC because it impinges on State’s rights and goes on record saying that the UPA government is running roughshod over the concept of federalism, has spent years asking for one of the most abused provisions of our Constitution to be applied to dismiss a democratically elected government. No problem there.

As should be evident by now, Didi just wants to give the Congress a hard time in the same way they gave her, for years on end, siding with her rivals in the state Congress and making deals with the CPM. She will embarrass the Congress even more so if she knows that it gets her brownie points for populism. And trust me, given her long years in opposition, saying “No” comes very naturally. Which explains why she has more or less consistently opposed everything that the Congress has tried to do. Which is why, even today, she talks about being given respect. Because in the 80s and the 90s, the Congress gave her none.

In conclusion, the TMC’s behavior as one sees today, is as much guided by its DNA ( nature) as it is by its history (nurture). Anyone interested in their story should do well to remember this.

Farewell Sir

2012-03-11T04:22:12Z

If Sachin was the teacher’s pet marked for greatness ever since he joined the school, Ganguly the arrogant gang-leader of the cool kids and VVS Laxman the freakishly-talented loner in the corner, Rahul Dravid will always be the hair-cleanly-parted, diligent “good boy”, the one who studies every waking hour to get the best grade.

The perfect student.

Not for him the arrogance of knowledge. Nor the satisfaction of absolute success. Dravid was always learning, and as one of the first ads he shot for so prophetically said, “always practicing”.

Not naturally aggressive in his batting, one of his most inspirational achievements was how he developed his limited-overs technique to retire with a record as good as the best. And even while batting in Test matches, an art he had mastered better than any of his contemporaries, you could see him continually changing, adapting, fine-tuning his game, often shaking his head in disappointment even after a perfect cover-drive. It is this relentless, almost religious, pursuit of perfection that will be remembered the most about him.

As also the precise movement of feet, the opening of the stance to counter the swing, the pivot of the heel, the last-minute leave, the perfect balance of the body at the moment of impact, the stillness of head. The man was as close to an anthropomorphism of a Swiss watch one could get, not just in its engineering precision, but in its total reliability. Session after session, like gears of platinum, he would grind out the opposition, his almost absolute invulnerability sapping them of all hope .

Time could stop. But not Dravid.

The other guy would trudge to the pavilion. Not Dravid.

He would be at the other end. Always.

However even “always” ends. It has to.

The bails are removed. Shadows creep over the pitch. The reassuring presence at number 3 takes his last walk.

Memories crowd around. Calcutta. Adelaide. Lords. Georgetown. Headingley. Rawalpindi. Now they are all a blur–one glorious image giving way to another in rapid sequence. The flick. The square-drive. That back-lift. The studious expression. The self-effacing smile. The punch in the air.

And that silently smoldering hunger—– the hunger to be the best one can possibly be.

We will miss you sir.