Great Scott!

How ELSe do you describe the great choke that Adam managed to conjure last night. The claret jug within his grasp once he birdied the 14th with four to play. Bogeying the next three paid put to his chances and he couldn't even sink an eight footer to save a play off on the 18th. There is something about pressure that dents the best of sportsmen and makes them look like ordinary mortals. Ernie would have been pinching himself as lady luck favored him to the hilt. Its two years in a row that the Open has been won by a 40 plus professional. Suddenly it looks like golf is no longer a young man's game. Rory with a plus 8 languished at a 60th tied position. Tiger bogeyed as if the ghosts of the recent past still haven't been exorcised. A vast majority of Golf's popularity today ows it to him for bringing in that sense of adventure to the sport once considered dreary. He seems to be in the hunt for the big titles but just cant get the home runs. Wonder if Jack's majors record will take another golfer to break. Another melt down was that of Snedeker who after leading through so handsomely at the cut just coudn't use his putter. For India, Anirban Lahiri made a hole in one and that has to be the only silver lining in an otherwise forgettable outing for him and Jeev. Ernie remembered his autistic son and Nelson Mandela at the presentation and it seemed the golfing gods had that in their minds as well when they chose the likeable South African over the talented Australian.

The legends

Olympics churn out sporting legends by the bagful. Some because they break through from amongst a sea of mediocrity (think Abhinav Bindra) and some that step up to racism and apartheid ( go Jesse Owens). Then there are some who overcome physical handicap (Oscar Pritorius) and some who blaze a trail (Usain Bolt). However, standing atop the heap of these are people who won and won big for a long time. They are the best decorated Olympic athletes of all time and synonymous with the prime physical and mental prowess of mankind. I talk about men and women who won more than 8 olympic gold medals in their glittering careers.

Numero uno is Micahael Phelps with 14 (a total of 16). Does he really belong to the homo sapiens species or the Pisces? 2012 would be his last games in the pool and one wouldn't count against him bettering the mark beyond surpass able limits.  Swim Michael swim.

Next on the list is Larisa Latynina with 9 (a total of 18). The most decorated Olympian of all time. She dominated the gymnastics for three successive games and was instrumental in establishing the Soviet Union's reign in the discipline. While many remember Comaneci's perfect ten, Larissa outguns her in terms of pure numbers.

Up next is the flying Finn, Paavo Nurmi with 9 (a total of 12). Probably the best long distance runner the games has seen. His career cut short after being barred to compete because he turned professional. His statue adorns the Helsinki Olympic stadium and that is more than deserving.

Mark Spitz with 9 (and a total of 11) comes down the line. In 1972 at Munich, he won seven golds in the pool, all of them in world record times,a feat unlikely to be equaled. Spitz retired at 22 at the height of his achievements. He adorned the default swimming legend tag till Phelps came along.

Carl Lewis with 9 ( and a total of 10) round the list up. Probably the athlete of the 20th century with a stranglehold not just on the 100m, 200m individuals and relays but an accomplished long jumper as well.  The first to run the 100m in sub 10s timings for low altitudes, he still serves as a beacon for generations of sprinters after him.

Will we see another legend emerge in London 2012, one who can break the barriers of pain and standard human capability to enter the above list. Wishful thinking? But then that's what makes legends.

The dark horses

There would be a few pretenders to the Olympic throne at London. Contenders who will be out to upset the established champions and etch their own name in the history of sports. One of the main reasons the games rank so high on any athlete's career is the opportunity for relatively unknown sportspeople  to spring the surprise on the incumbent kings and queens of the arena. In 2012, foremost of these would be Johan Blake. He has already beaten Usain Bolt at the Worlds and lately at the Jamaican trials. Though these were only dress rehearsals and Bolt presumably had a "slight problem", Blake has served notice enough to be considered a real threat to the world record holder's hegemony in the sprint events. The two should come against each other for both the 100m and 200m dashes and the fight is evenly poised. Ryan Lochte has lived under Micahel Phelp's shadow long enough to know how it feels to be deprived of stardom after having a bevy of Olympic medals to his name.  The 200m free and backstroke may just be the races that put him along side Phelps and Spitz at the head of the American swimming table. Saina Nehwal has been a thorn in the Chinese flesh for some time on the badminton courts. Though she does not boast of a very good record against the two Wangs, its a fear of her that has made the selection of Li Xuerui possible. If Saina fires all cylinders, this may be the year where the Chinese dragon is slayed on the shuttle. Home advantage was in full view for the Chinese gymnasts four years ago but expect the US to upset their applecart in London. The bars and vaults may see new rulers and that surely wouldn't be a case to lament. Anticipating a new set of trend setters that keep the flame burning bright.

Let the games begin

We have surely come a long way since the ancient Greeks toughed it out in their Coliseum. Also some way from the first modern Olympiad at Athens. Man now runs at more than 10m a second and the number is as mind boggling as Usain Bolt's feats are. Beijing was a show of strength and London may be more elegant than in your face. It becomes the first city to hold the summer games for the third time and you cannot grudge that honor to the English capital. Its going to be a gender neutral spectacle for the first time and that means another glass ceiling is broken. Its a melting pot with a gene pool unparalleled for the Olympic contenders are just not prime athletes but also ones with the best mental acumen. Where else could you have breakfast with Federer, lunch with Phelps and dinner with Bolt. Its stuff of dreams and an arena fitting the legends that dot it. China took full toll at its home games last time around and left the traditional sporting super powers in its wake but it remains to be seen if it can replicate the sensational performance in the land of the queen. It is sure to dominate diving, table tennis, badminton but the fringe medals may not come along. Will Yelena Isinbayeva scale the heights that the "orbit" promises? Will Bolt repeat history and the 9.58s mark would be left behind in his run? Will Phelps become the most decorated athlete in the Olympic history? Can Liu Xiang put the Beijing tears behind him? Will the US and Russia regain their sporting pinnacles or the host would spring a surprise on the medals tally? Questions aplenty and that is exactly what makes these games one of the most anticipated in recent times.   It gave me goosebumps that morning when Abhinav Bindra shot down the 10m air rifle gold. A first individual gold for a country of a billion is skewed in terms of ratio but rates as one of the finest moments in the country's history. Expect him and Gagan Narang to be there again this time around. Also, boxers have shown that they can punch above their weight and I won't be surprised to see a couple of medals there. Deepika Kumari is the quintessential Indian achiever and that's the one medal I truly hope to see come along. The hockey wielders have not shown promise of late but then wishful thinking is not unlawful, is it? So, while the grand scheme of things unfolds in the three weeks starting July the 27th, I would be looking at some sub plots that make this congregation a theater of dreams and tears.

Pit Stop

It's been an even season for F1 this year. Multiple winners and the top three separated by not many has been good to see. If Vettel was harboring thoughts of running away with the title a third time, he may have to hold his bulls. Bernie's efforts to standardize technology has shifted the focus from the cars to the men at the wheel quite significantly and one hears less grudges about car pace and downforce. Only if they could make over taking a tad easier. Though the top contenders may have come close, the tailenders are grouped together too. Looks like Red Bull, Lotus, Ferrari and McLaren are still in a different league. I haven't been able to catch a lot of live races this time around but strategies do seem to be playing a bigger role. Pit stops and fuel levels have made and marred and few wins and that is welcome as an additional dimension to the sport which can get dreary at times. I wonder what Schumacher gets out of running these days. He is an absolute legend with achievements unparalleled and it seems all that is getting besmirched by his also ran showings. May be he wants to take Mercdes to the heights he took Ferrari. Easier said than done. He may yet be the phoenix but I wouldn't bet for it. Would be interesting to see who revs it up this season to emerge victorious. Till then let's savor the fight.

Return Of The King

First things first. Seventeen majors and the number one spot (that also means that Rafa and Nole may see each other in the semis for some time) at 31 are achievements that just pop my eyes. If this doesn't settle the debate about who the GOAT is, nothing else would. I was wrong a second time predicting the final line up ( the first one being the Euro clash) but never knew there is so much fun being wrong. Roger may as well buy that roof on the SW19 off. As soon as the heavens opened up as if calling the master to do his thing, majesty was in full flow. The baseline flicks, the drop volleys and the serves that matched the clattering thunder up above. All this and no sweat, even the partisan center court crowd didn't grudge him what was due. Andy put up the fight one has come to expect of him but it would have needed two of him to down the Swiss last night. He has lost his first four grand slam finals and the only thing that might comfort him is the show his coach put up after losing his first four. The icing on the cake has to be the presence of Roger's twins who may just look back a few years down the line the history they witnessed. Or may be create some of their own. Federer is the crowd's darling in general, not today. Britain has waited more than a life time for a winner and they probably have to wait another year for the emotions to break dam.  Does Fed have any more in him? Also, does Andy have what it takes to get back and keep hunting? The answer to both those questions is an emphatic YES.

20s, 50s and the unlimited

The good doctor that Grace was, even he wouldn't have given a prognosis like this for the game he loved.  It was all leisurely, measured and dare one say gentlemanly till a few eons ago. Scoring behind the wickets was not a form of art and rest days afforded aficionados a meaty bite dissecting performances and making predictions. Over rates were good and the run rate not so. "Limited" overs changed the landscape of cricket in a slew that no other game has probably seen. Limiting the already limited to twenty turned it into the sort of entertainment that one expects of Ethan Hunt's pursuits. The purists are aghast at the dwindling fortunes of the longer version while the junta laps up the shortest form. Fifty over matches have probably run their course and the version in its "end of life" phase. The ICC would deny this as vehemently as it denies BCCI's play in the executive decision making process. I still wonder why production companies pay obscene sums to get rights for one day matches. The TRP ratings are low and the turnstiles at stand still. May be push has come to shove and everyone's busy flogging a dead horse. T20 obviously doesn't offer similar time slots for advertising as the denouement is available in  three hours and the captains don't discuss their mothers in law between overs as they do in the one day game. Test matches have lost perspective except probably for a few hard fought series. Some say the five day game is the epitome of the cricketer's skill. How do you test the skills of a bowler when he practices something in the nets and is asked to do exactly the opposite on the field. Or the batsman who thinks blocking is the way to immortality. Every one wins at home and loses while traveling. Some say the non standard conditions are the spice of the game. I say its a spice that is made to suit the home team's guts, and create havoc with the visiting team's internals. May be its time to relegate the test to Ashes where it still stokes passion. Wonder who gets the kicks scheduling and watching limp draws. Instant gratification isn't here to go away and if that's what evolution has in store for the leather and the willow, amen to that.

Tiki Taka Tick Tock

Sounds like clock work aint it. The Spanish inquisition is over. If you can score four against a team that is traditionally known for its impenetrable defense, not much else would stop you. The La Roja are now part of the the pantheons of greats and they are not yet done. I would not bet against the same bunch turning it on in Brazil come the next big soccer tourney. Spain had four different scorers and one who scored in the last Euro final as well. Goes some way in exemplifying their all round abilities and longevity. De Bosque would not sound a heretic if he were to proclaim his side the greatest ever. So, what do the others do to tackle this armada? For starters strengthen their club competitions with domestic players and not so much with imports. Anyone listening at the BPL?

Roger has been relishing five setters of late. Has lost some and won more. The latest installment against Julien Benneteau was another Houdini act. Julien did run out of steam in the decider but  always managed to keep his nose in front against the Swiss till the best part of the first four. It felt like Fed was a little conservative the first two sets waiting for the Frenchman to self destruct. The game didn't follow that script though and it needed a gear shift from the six time champ to come through. Xavier Malisse was disposed with much more ease and its the Russian journey man Youzhny up next in the last eight. Both play a single hander on the back hand and you wouldn't bet against my bet for this one. Meanwhile, Nole has made serene progress and another semis encounter between the number one and three seeds is on the cards. Only if Roger was on Nadal's half of the draw, this could have been a memorable final. Better early than never.

Rosol who?

The first set was intriguing but by the time it got over, the denouement looked obvious and expected. I hit the sack assuming a few winks were better than seeing another demolition act akin to the first round. This morning, however brought two surprises, one bigger than the other. That Rafael Nadal had been vanquished in the first week of a grand slam for the first time since 2005 has to rank as one of bigger upsets in tennis history. Hewitt losing to Karlovich as defending champion may be along side but then Leyton is not known for his tenacity as the Spaniard is. Rafa losing a five setter against a 100th seeded man in the second round of Wimbledon is stuff that you need to suspend your disbelief for. Lukas Rosol probably played the match of his life but that isn't enough to get better of the man who remains a human tennis ball machine. Haven't watched the highlights or a replay but going by the reports, it doesn't look like Rafa had a niggle to deal with. Grass certainly doesn't afford him the grip and bounce that clay does. He typically wears down opponents with his relentless returns but it seems Lukas did find a way around. I am not sure if this is a blip on the Nadal radar or a harbinger of a change of guard a the top of men's tennis but I certainly don't mind it.  Does Fed have a bigger chance now that his Albatross is out of the way? I don't think so. For him to get to the finals, the Djoker has to be conquered and that is not a distinct possibility. My two cents on a Brit getting to the finals in a long time and giving a good account of himself there against the world number one. However, Murray would still need to wait for his first slam. Novak to defend his title against Andy....and against the center court partisan crowd.

Balotelli putting a spanner in Germany's works was not expected and it nulls my prediction for a Spain Germany finale. Can the Azzuri repeat their giant killing run and put one over the Spanish. I guess not. It  may be another shoot out and not even the footballing gods know what happens there. Italy are probably the biggest over achievers in the world of soccer but its the results that count against fanfare. Hoping for an open and memorable Euro final.

Paying the penalty

Does lightning strike twice? I guess two is a small number when it comes to England and its disastrous luck with the shoot out. Gerrard and Lampard, two of the most celebrated handlers of the football have missed it in the past for the three lions. Twas time for the two Ashleys to fall prey to the horrendous fate that befalls the English once they are asked to step up and settle scores with penalties. Does the fear of the past make them over cook their takes? It certainly looks like so with Young hitting the bar so hard that everything including the English confidence shook like a petal in the storm. Cole tried to compensate and hit his straight into Buffoon's hands. Guess, the next time it goes to the shoot out, the team out in her  majesty's service can just give a walk over. Germany and Spain have been clinical (though not magical) and it would be a fool's bet to go against these two going head to head this Sunday. Ronaldo may have a treat or two up his sleeve but cant see him going one up against the Germans. Its "so long" to the English once again in the quarters and may be they will do well not to have a dead lock again in a knock out game. Win or lose in the 90 rounds of the long handle of the clock. At least that saves the worst possible heart break for their fans.

Its time to get high on grass. Wimbledon is here and I cant wait to see some quick serves and volleys after the grueling rallies on the Parisian red dirt. Lets see whose way the run of the green goes. May the best wo(man) win.

O' Mario

A Ghanaian in the blue colors of Italy should be a first in the history of the Azzuri. Nor is the color of his skin the only stand out feature. Balotelli raves, rants and scores some. He thinks he is a touch higher on the intelligence scale than the average homo sapien. I am not so sure about his top floor but that's certainly true about his feet. His antics though haven't won him too many accolades from his boss at ManCity but I guess Mancini would take that from a compatriot. The heavy weights have pulled through nicely in Poland and Ukraine with the lighter ones turning out what they were supposed to be....also rans. A bit like men's tennis these days where even one of the top four missing a semis spot in a slam would be cause for surprise. With England, Spain, France, Italy and Germany all having booked their spots in the knock outs, its gearing up for tense action. The oranje were given a thrashing and the time for them to rebuild with fresh legs is nigh. If  I were to step into Paul's tentacles, it would still be Spain for me to make it an incredible treble. They control the midfield better than most and Torres seems to have got back touch back. The dearth of goals is probably a blot on the beautiful game. Like most other sports, its become reliant more on physicality than skills but then both teams start and play on equal terms. Hockey has been a revelation since the offside rule was abolished. You get to see a lot of goals, some neat scoops getting tapped and wonderful opportunities on the counter. It's probably not so simple for soccer but a variant which can infuse a little bit of drama to the game would surely be welcome. How about not penalizing a player for offside if he is more than 30 yards from the goal line... or a player is not offside if there are more than five defenders in the D against two forwards. Food for thought...and a little dribble.

"Khelte Raho....Khush Raho"

Or so quips a "legend" of Indian cricket trying to sell an aerated drink. Its probably appropriate given his inclination to keep playing and make himself happy. This on top of his having accepted a much maligned position of MP. Its like me taking up a dozen jobs and going to any one of them as I desired on a given day. So, he wakes up in the morning and looks at the size of his beard....to decide whether he wants to play for India, or to shoot a commercial, or better go to Delhi and sit smug in the Rajya Sabha. Some say he has earned that right by making a ton of tonnes. May be he should be given an honorary and permanent position on the team for that. Life starts at 80 is the tenet embraced by our poilticians and he seems to have subscribed to that even before he became one. He says retiring on top is selfish. Well, one understands that he may be challenged mathematically but a difference in averages of 20 runs between his career numbers and the numbers he has managed to conjure in the last two years surely is blatant enough to be noticed. May be he will consider that he is no longer on top when his five year running average drops to single digits....or may be not. I guess there aren't better ways to sully one's impression amongst the sports fraternity. If there was a better case where the individual became bigger than the system, I would like to hear of it. Why do accolades and achievements rest so heavy on Indians? Its as if they are in a hurry to put all of that to dirt in a couple of years of belligerence just so that they can rest easy. If only gerontocracy was a word and not a glaring reality.

s'il vous plait

Coming back after such a long hiatus asked for a french riposte. Not because the Gallic race makes me stand and stare in awe or that they managed to hold off the three lions the other night in the Euro clash. Its just because the Parisian red dirt threw up a treat so delectable that I coundn't help but serve an ode to the French way of relishing everything fine. Roland Garros has not been one of my favorite grand slams. It puts more emphasis on the physicality of the proponents than the other three and that's not as pleasing to the eyes as a volley on the green grass of SW19 is. Another mighty reason for my dislike may be the fact that my beloved Fed has been fended off so many times by the indomitable Majorcan here that the clay reminds me of my unforgiving struggles with Engineering drawing. Trying hard and getting there but always pipped at the post. This was the first time I ever wished the GOAT didn't win his semi-final against the Djoker. It was clear as a crystal that with Rafa in the form that he was, the only man in the universe to be able to come close to beating him would be Nole. Couldn't bear to see that hooked forehand flying high to Roger's one handed back hand the the ball either denting the net or falling short to be sent roaring at an angle that defies geometry. The final did start on a bleak note (albeit only for people like me who hoped to see some new hands on the three muskuteers cup....and to see all four majors in the very same hands). If spirit and will don't define the world number two, I don't know what does. The top spin that takes the ball so high up the net only to swerve back in like it had a mind of it own is a sight that can send down shivers down the spine of opponents and goose bumps in the stomachs of viewers in equal measure. And then there was Novak, two sets down and trailing by a couple of games, the end looked nigh. I don't think anybody has take 8 games in a row from Nadal in history but the world number one showed us what he is made of. It served only as a tiny hurdle in the way of the man who is nothing short of a one man Spanish armada but it did show us that Novak is getting there....just like Rafa did to Roger at Wimbledon. Here's raising a toast to many such battles and praying that we do see a deciding set the next time around.

It aint all about money, honey!

Back from a flash visit to Ahmedabad. What warmed the cockles of my heart most was the tag of a "megacity" being appended to my erstwhile abode. The infusion of a big chunk from the exchequer's trunk seems to have done the same wonders to this city that an efficient make up man can do with good "old" Rajnikant(h). The roads were wider, the air cleaner and the junta agog with praise for the face lift. Sparkling new malls adorned the skyline where solitary mom and pop shops ruled roost. A sure sign of things being north bound I commiserated. Something, however, rankled like a stone in the good morsel that didnt let me plunge headlong in my ecstasy. It took me a visit to the local grocery store to put a finger on the root of the qualm. There it was, in all its glory ( or the lack of it ) shipping off sundry items at the rate of a kilo or a half. The place has been like that for as long as I can remember ( and I do boast of an "elephantine" memory). But that wasnt supposed to be a heritage site to be preserved. The owner seemed to have been stuck in the economic spiral with no vertical movement at all. My query about why he hasnt moved to a bigger place or ventured into something new met with the quitessential puzzled look. "I am happy with what I have, Sir. Am better off without those headaches of taxes, documentation and management that accrue with expansion". A blight for Gujarati enterprise I thought but the guy was there everywhere I looked. In my neighbour who runs an automobile spare parts agency and in my bank where the new computers were as much a spectator of stagnancy as I was. Coudnt lay my eyes on anything that was out of place, somebody who moved into a new apartment or a new office. Enquiring about the new commercial complexes told me that the investment was from people outside Ahmedabad on almost all counts. The city seemed to forge ahead but it was an illusion. It was just the skin that got polished. The skeleton still was weak and dormant. A telling tale of how the red tape and more so, a self imposed alienation from the main stream can dwindle a budding city's aspirations. I doubt if Ahmedshah really saw the hare killing the dog when he set forth setting up this place.

Full Marx to you Mr PM

Its the silence of our leading man thats put him in a spot. He comprehends the nuances of economics but is dumbfounded by socio-economics. One cant help but sympathise with his plight. With a dynastic party on his right and a fledgling partner in the "left", he cant put his mouth where his heart is. Presumably, keeping mum is his way of showing dissent on the fiery matter of reservations. "Affirmative action" is the glorified term to describe whimsical decisions by our polity to aid their vote banks. Aristotle said " The worst kind of social inequality is to make unequal things equal". Philosophy may not be in the good books of our decision makers but rationality seems to have been eschewed as well. A recent study showed that since Mr VP Singh played second fiddle to a certain Mandal, there has been a 90% increase in the number of castes under the OBC category. So, much for social upliftment. It wouldnt surprise me a bit if that rate beats itself by manifolds after the quota implementation in the premier institutes of our country. We sure are headed towards equality. Soon, the county demographics will be so skewed in favour of the backward classes that we all will fall under that category. There wont be another way to survive this land of over a billion. Democracy favours the majority and the backward classes seem to be thriving in terms of breeding on that tenet. While the numbers under the "general" category shrink exponentially, the curve is exactly the opposite for the backward classes. We will certainly need more than 50% reservations in our premier institutes in a few years to cater to these social inequalities. But wait a minute, I am skeptical if we will have any institutes of repute by then. The IITs, IIMs and premier medical institutes are sure to die an unwarranted death and all we will be blessed with the same mediocrity that embellishes most organizations under the aegis of the government. They dont want academics to be an exception. I am ashamed to call myself an Indian this day and admit to my impotency in being able to do anything about the shambles the nation is in. There always were three alternatives that contended for my selection. Stay quiet, do something about the state of affairs or flee. While our PM has opted for the first choice, I have picked the last.

Metatarsal Inc.

Thats the most famous bone ( of contention ) in a world rife with soccer fanatics. With the great extravaganza in Germany barely a month away, a certain Wayne Rooney has been instrumental in granting an (o)cult status to this mysterious link in the human skeleton. Breaking a bone was never such a rage and I am not counting orthopaeds there. "Favourites to virtual also rans" seems to be the predicament for the homeland of the good octogenarian queen. I will hardly be surprised if this piece of human anatomy finds itself in prominent positions not only on those panoramic charts the docs display but also on the connoisseur's menu. Boneless would be replaced by "chicken on a metatarsal". They call it the "metatarsal curse". The better half of a member of the erstwhile "Spice Girls" fell to it the last time Asia held its first football world cup. The BBC certainly made no bones in placing the blame on the foot that broke. Ronaldinho's freak effort that sealed England's fate in that quarter final wasnt the foot that figured in the discussion. Next time my creditors come calling, I know the bone to offer to their henchmen. Probably my ticket to superstardom doesnt lie in my own hands, it lies in my own feet.

News you can refuse

It seems like eons since my dose of daily affairs came from the idiot box. A reflection on those days when my grandpa religiously switched the Onida on at the strike of 8.30 pm to hear that distinctive Doordarshan tune gives me goosebumps. Not that the news readers of yore made a lasting impression on my then impressionable mind, but the fact that it seemed like a fair charter of the day's proceedings minus excessive melodrama. The inclusions may have had an eulogic tilt towards the men in the PMO but then the 30 odd minutes didnt seem too judgemental on the happenings. Take2 and I find myself accessible to so many channels beaming news that I run out of my fingers that I ususally put to use for the purpose of counting. Business suits may well be the order of the day for the anchors but the smile they wear these days seems more a matter of satire than attire. And do they talk glib, one may be forgiven for believing that she was actually listening to a JAM session than a statement of the day's press. "Scoop" seems to have undervalued to such an extent that discovering the visiting head of state's undergarment colour falls under that category. The good man ( and woman ) is now surrounded by other good men ( and women ) who analyse our PM's body language to the extent that you may well be in the position to find out if he suffers from rheumatism or tooth ache. The pitch of the voice betrays such emotion at the exclusion of Saurav from the team like a real bomb had just been dropped, not by the selectors but by the Pak army. Then, there is the phenomenon of "exclusivity". A 5 line chat with Hrithik on what he feels after becoming a pa is exclusive only to 7 channels. And if you are courageous enough to be privy to the scrolls running on top , bottom and every inch of the TV screen where the reader doesnt figure, you may be pleasantly surprised to know that 80 percent of people think that they will die of heart failure while the rest just dont think. So, pick up your phone and decide where you belong. These programmes do cater to people like me who boast of an IQ lesser than his weight. News and associated analysis leave no doubt in you about the propriety of a particular item on the ledger. What with all the expert talk, why do I need to flex my top floor to judge something. Freedom of speech and expression has rarely been put to use so effectively before. So much so, that I find myself speechless at the glut of piffle that unfolds itself. They conduct stings and run amok with the slightest discovery of malpractice. The associate engineer on the electricity board taking 10k bucks for a new connection does rank along side Monica gate if the great samaritans are to be believed. Inane is the best I can describe these programmes and "best" refers not to my description but their excesses. I have decided not to skip these numbers on my remote only when I feel the need of a sleeping pill. The TV media is dead. Long love the TV media.

At loggerheads with Tipu

A long weekend owing to unforeseen circumstances in Bangalore can lead to the mass exodus of souls suffering from wanderlust. Not one to take on long jaunts, I restricted myslef to the great ruler's kingdom that is Mysore. The ticket booking issue once again raised its mighty hood only to unravel the changing face of the Indian railways once again. Was a pleasant surprise to be able to book Shatabdi tickets just one day in advance on the internet, thanks to the e-ticketing service from IRCTC. Wonder what competition can do even to elephantine organizations. This (and the Indian telecom sector ) can surely be a case study for analysing the aftermath of private entrepreneurship against state owned cartels. The Mysore palace came up first principally because of its proximity to my lodgings and secondarily becuase of its operative timings. An afternoon spent on the sprawling complex can be rewarding if you manage to save your naked feet from the charring ground. Extravagance of the Wodeyars stares you in the face with facile paintings adorning the walls and a fair sprnikling of colour all around. Space certainly wasnt at a premium for the erstwhile royals. However, couldnt really see why photography wasnt allowed within the premises. The main attraction, an unimpeded view of a grand passage leading to the palace from the first floor where the monarch himself might have presided over the proceedings. Next in line were the Vrindavan gardens. Located in the basin of the Krishnarajsagr dam around 20 kms from Mysore, this botanical landscape is a sight for sore eyes. Lush green presents itself over the whole landscape and flowers are not just an embellishment but the principal fabric of this lovely panorama. A light drizzle only added to the charm of this natural haven. The main draw however remains the lighting that takes over from the sun. A canvass blazing in myriad coulours giving those fountains a look that can best be describes as surreal. A musical fountain capable of highly complex patterns attracts the most attention. A place for shutterbugs by far. One can be intimidated with the crowds on weekends here but the humanity is bearable for the sight. Day two was devoted to ornithology. The Ranganthittu bird sanctuary flattered to deceive. The blame however may squarely be on my shoulders to have visited the place in the heat of things. The sounds that greeted us made promising forebodings but the originators were nowhere to be seen. A trip on the boat did allow for a few sightings but nothing that can be classified as "risque". The siberian stork seemed to provide a perfect foil to the bats hanging upsides down with its attentive frame. With its breeding season on the way, this aviator seemed to have its beak in every inch of the water. The sanctuary is well maintained and should be a good place for some serious bird watching in the winters. Last but of course not the least was a visit to the great Tipu. His summer retreat termed as "Daulatbagh" depicts his rise and fall along side his exploits in languages and breeding. You read it right, the great Sultan was father to seven strapping sons ( or was it eight ), all dilligently chronicled on the canvass in form of portraits. The paintings on the walls did evoke some feeling of the grandeur that he might have lived and fought in but nothing awe inspiring. Again, a restriction on photography played spoil sport. The last two destinations were covered on an auto-rickshaw that allowed a decent reflection on the coutry side. Green dominated over brown at this time of the year. The return journey on a KSRTC bus proved quite uneventful except for a little brush with a truck on the highway. A trip on a shoestring that didnt disappoint on the whole.

Dogs and Non-Schedues Not Allowed

Am trying to locate a babu who can certify that I am a living form that falls on the human list. If there was one cardinal sin my father ( and his father and his father ) committed, it certainly has to be born on the "general" category. I may yet correct the folly only if I can get myself stamped an OBC or an SC or an ST for that matter. Seems like a good gift for posterity given the rate at which the Indian polity goes about the singular matter of "reservations", the lack of them on the railroads and the excess in every organization of repute. A country of a billion will be run by the dregs of the society because they look good on the vote charts of our wannabe rulers. Get a math handicap in the IITs and somebody with his middle name "ineptitude" in the IIMs and you are sure of witnessing a comedy of errors unroll. Quite a way of entertainment considering the fact that "netas" will still get operated off-shores and I will get injected with a mortein instead of a morphine after banging my head in despair. The aforementioned institutes of higher learning have been the cynosure of all eyes, none the less of those who garnish our seats of democracy. A few gems on an otherwise pathetic state just seems to make a statement in contradiction. What better than bringing them all at par with the great show that is our parliament. Merit is as abhored a word as an expletive in polite company and its sacrilege to subscribe to it. Let us all celebrate the rise and rise of our fall.

Small Town India

Nagpur does not fit the bill of being a "town" but when you have been through the travails of behemoths like Mumbai, Chennai and Bangalore, scales are subject to alterations. It can be a little befuddling to find that the very center of India may be so off its aviation map that the existence of an airport is a mystery to a few residents themselves. Such are the dynamics of economics though. Reason enough for me to categorize the place as "small" . A 24 hour long sojourn on the rail road didnt offer anything that can be remotely described pictursque and I refer to both sides of the coach's windows there. Heralded as the "orange" city, ( its the fruit and not the colour ) Nagpur came across as a beast confounded between choosing the frenzy of a metro and the low profile gaiety of a town. Food provided the most complete antithesis with the adjectives "cheap", "delicious" and "hygenic" being attached to it. The traffic, though, crawls at a snail's pace, notwithstanding the roads that may have bees straight out of the Autobahn. The untethered enthusiasm for festivals like "Rannaumi" betrays an inclination to hold onto the traditional but more so, deriving that sense of pride and bliss through collective celebration, something that seems alien to me in Bangalore. A couple of malls present a stark contrast to the otherwise bohemian city that owes its best pieces of architecture to the British empire. Clothing seemed to be in the conservative domain with high neck lines and low hem lines populating the landscape. No dearth of western outfits on show though. An epitome of what one may call "the best of both the worlds" and other may tag "stuck between cultures". The newspaper still had its priorties on local issues with no "Page 3" to be found for good measure. Publicity campaigns for huge townships where textile mills once stood promise to change the skyline of the city and taxis seem to be accelerating to replace the rickshaw with no engine to boast. The little jamboree reminded me of that kid who wants to reach out for the star filled sky without letting go of her mother's hand. May her reach know no bounds. Amen.