Crazy Cricket Commentary

Initially I thought of sharing this directly as a facebook status update, but due to its lenght and the sheer out-of-this-world nature, putting it in a blog made more sense. Also, in a attempt to raise the number of posts on Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. So here we go.

This classic is from cricinfo.com - direct copy paste. In the on going test match at the Gabba between the Aussies and the Kiwis, bad light has stopped play and Nitin (the online commemtator) pulled out this warfer of an imaginary commentary from a good old face-off. Jimmy Anderson v/s Ricky Ponting.

Read On!

While the storm brews in Brisbane, I am tempted to replug a piece of absolute gold in commentary feedback that came during Australia's tour of South Africa. This is an over of imagined (I think) commentary from Dello. Anderson is bowling at Ponting. (Reckon you can do some vivid ball-by-ball? Have a go, lets see if you can match Dello.. A single ball of imagined commentary please. Tendulkar to Martin would be prime!)

"36.1 Anderson to Ponting, no run, A JAFFA! Full, swings late, Ponting lurches like an inebriated pensioner on a skateboard, somehow the ball evades bat, gloves, stumps and everything.

After 45 balls, Ponting's still not off the mark. And he's not likely to be any time soon if Anderson keeps bowling these cluster-bombs of high jaffery.

36.2 Anderson to Ponting, no run, A SNORTER!!! Straight out of Snortsville, Carolina, Ponting is left fumbling around for his reading glasses by a short ball that reared up like a gay ostrich and pecked at his grill. (Bloody Hillarious) Anderson follows through with a few choice words. Lip readers among you might have made out "hermaphrodite".

36.3 Anderson to Ponting, no run, THE McGARNAGLE!!!! Oooh, Jimmy's delving deep into his box of tricks today! Ponting wrongly plays for the away swing and is left looking a real casserole of nonsense by the McGarnagle, which cuts him in half and then quarters and then just keeps on chopping until his mutilated corpse is nothing more than a squinty pulp. England appeal for something, but the umpire is too traumatised by what he's witnessed to react.

36.4 Anderson to Ponting, no run, AN ABSOLUTE CLINTON!!!!!! What is happening out there? Curves in awkwardly, almost at right angles, and Ponting wears it on the chest. Clinton residue all over his shirt. That'll never wash out. England still banging at the door, but so far, no cigar.


What an over this is from Anderson. Four balls. Four brutes. Four Weddings is on TV tonight, I noticed while reading the paper over breakfast. Slice of melon and gram of coke, in case you were wondering.

36.5 Anderson to Ponting, no run, A SCENTED PANDA HAMMER!!!!!!! WHOAHZERS!!!!! That seamed to swing in at least three directions. Is that even possible?! Ricky can't lay a bat on it and - oh, he's down! And up again! Staggering! And down again! And up! Completely bamboozled, he seems to not know where he is. OH MY GOD!! Ponting has taken off his shirt and one of his shoes and is just shambling around the field. Is he crying? Some of the England boys are trying to help him but he's thrashing his bat at them and growling. Hello, what's this? Ever the opportunist, Kevin Pietersen tries to take advantage of Ponting's walkabout by shying at the stumps but misses by three yards. And that's gone for four. But the umpires are signalling dead ball. It's chaos. The Aussie team doctor is on the pitch now, along with the physio and the mascot, Steve Smith. They seem to be calming Ponting down, showing him pictures of his family. Yes, there's some recognition there. His marbles are on the way back. WHOAHNNO, there they go again!! A picture of his kids has thrown him back over the edge like some kind of demented lifebelt. He's spinning on the spot (a nice homage to the Tasmanian Devil) furiously, screaming "little Ricky people!!!" from what I can make out on the stump mic. This is awkward. The team fertility consultant's on the field now. I guess he's about to explain where babies come from. This is going to get worse before it gets better...

The umpires call drinks.

And we're back. Apparently the website went down for the duration of what will surely be referred to in all the papers tomorrow as "The Incident", for which we apologise, but with Ian Bell having been taken into protective custody, the sacrificed lamb's blood mopped up from the square, the affected part of the Joe Mangle Stand quarantined and Dr. Susan something Greek-sounding now acting as Ponting's runner and/or life coach, James Anderson's at his mark ready to complete what has thus far been a very interesting over.

36.6 Anderson to Ponting, FOUR, BUM GRAVY. After all that, Jimmy loses his line and spaffs one miles down the leg side. Prior makes a valiant dive, but unfortunately in the wrong direction. Four byes, and a slightly anticlimaxtic end to the over.


And that's that! You wont find this bit of the article on cricinfo now. But, it was freaking hillarious shit reading this.
Peace!

In Aftermath

Oh well here we go again!


It has been a rather short interval since the previous post, but this one just popped out, out of the blue, and luckily for it, found me with my laptop on my lap and a sufficiently charged battery.

I’d rather not have written this, but frankly, something has to be done about the funny buzzing sound that keeps on going on inside me head, at this moment. Moreover, I don’t think I would have written this had I not been in Pune. It’s basically an aftermath of the incident that happened earlier this day.

Gravity has a funny way of working. While it brought the apple down from the tree onto Newton’s head in no time (and changed the way we have been made to understand physics around us), it took a good 5 minutes of reading to know the ‘gravity’ of what has just happened (and has changed the general social atmosphere for 5 hours running, now).

Consequentially, repercussions were expected. Realistically, we still have to wait and rely on tomorrow’s newspaper and online feed for the exact nature and extent of repercussions. Precautionary, we still have to be on the watch for a few more days. Idealistically, I resent. In motive, I agree. In namesake, I rejoice. In brotherhood, I am disgusted. Personally, I admit, I’m scared.

The hand (and the shoe) of the commoner has long extended its range from the voting ballot, voting machine, temple steps and chest and groin of other commoners. And how! With this afternoon’s slap-gate doing the rounds of all social and anti-social media, it’s obvious that the domain of this range is far from visible.

The latest one was, admirably, fast and flashy. Maybe the television news channel crew should take a leaf out of SlowMo pictures. Whatever; the initial excitement about Mr. Agrinister’s whacko couldn’t last longer than the reading time of three news bulletins, a blog post and cricinfo’s live match feed. And that quickly drained the momentary living sense out of me. Come on HS Paaji, not cool.

You slap Agrinister. Okay. You chose to represent the vent in the general public. Okay (as long we know who and how we are generalizing). You do it fearlessly. Okay. Wow. But for the love of God, you don’t speak out of turn in that moment of venting anger and you don’t, with a big D, brandish your kirpan and threaten people. Not cool paaji, not cool.

Firstly, the thumbs rule – you don’t take your kirpan out of its miaan, just to threaten someone. Either you use it for what is was meant for or leave it packed snugly by your waist. So, basically, you have just undone my 3 months of explaining people around me what this 6 inch ‘knife’ is doing hanging on my belt. (And NO, it’s not a knife) Sigh!

And yes, you have done that one thing that makes us typically Punjabi. Speak out of turn. In that fit of rage and run of adrenalin the words you blurted and that ibn captured somehow puts us Sikhs in a tight spot. Not because they were fundamentally wrong, but because a threat like that doesn’t normally go down well with elements. And it would take some time for the elements to get over the hype and listen to their wives complaining about the increasing vegetable prices.

The last time a Sardar raised an arm (and a gun) on a Congressman, modern India’s history was left scarred. I don’t see such an after effect now, though I do pray for the wellbeing of your family and yourself paaji. I don’t know how tomorrow and the upcoming weekend would turn out to be but it would be an interesting pot-pourrie of emotions, expressions, words and exchanges. One of them, I saw before calling it an early day in office today; the expression that said, “I am glad it was one of you who did it, rather one of myself.” Gosh, some trying times ahead!

And for the record, Maggie hasn’t gone a bit cheaper, eggs are still at their same price and milk powder has gotten dearer by 8 Rupees. Just to be on the safe side with the proposed bandh tomorrow. If it needed a Harvinder Singh to ‘thanks-give slap’ a Sharad Pawar to shake the system and lead to a more organized outburst on the price rise issue, so be it. Whether it’s the way we want to go about fighting corruption? Well for starters, it’s an expression. But, no its not! Either you do it the Bhagat Singh way or you do it the Gandhi way.

With winter session of parliament in progress, following how other Agrinisters’ fight out the price rise and the black money issue would be the prima facie for the weekend. And yes, also to be followed would be next-to-God’s hundredth hundred. I have gut feeling he’ll nail it this time.

And Anna dude, you too, not cool! For a crusader of your stature, seriously uncool.

Almost as an afterthought, while proof reading the entry, another thought was plucked. One should, more often than always, align his actions and outlook in a way that would not put others of the same ethnical background, same region, same religion, similar looking face, or same name in a fix. It further reiterates the fact that we don’t represent just ourselves wherever we go and whatever we do; we represent a whole lineage of people with something similar to us in them.

Period.

Please Hold On

I have always wanted to tell you. No, I mean it. I may not be best equipped to express myself in a way that I want to, in a way that I know you want me to be doing so. But I mean it, please hold on!


I have realised that things are not always bad. Not always as bad as they used to be. In fact, look at it as how we have managed to come out of those days of darkness, fear and uncertainty and are now more settled than what we have been in the past decade. That does speak volumes of your resilience and faith you had in what you knew you were doing, and also about luck. I know there was nothing much I could have done back then, without being a superhero in the books I was reading at that time. But now that the time has come, or as I see it, is ever so near than ever, I beg you to please hold on!

The picture you painted in my head that autumn evening, of your dream, has somehow been etched in my memory. It has merged into my goal and is the one thing I want to get, I want to achieve, I want more than anything ever to let you know how much I admire and am proud of you.

How whatever I am going to do is going to effect my future and of those around me is a thought that would always put me at the crossroads, with a series of difficult decisions to make. I don't know how prepared I am to make the right choice out of these difficult crossroads, but its one thing that I want to push forward and let the results be as they are deemed to be right.

Please hold on. I am almost there. And once together we can kick some fine arss. I know it and so do you. So, please hold on. I want to live the life I saw in the books I read. But more than anything I want to live and love my life in a way that I want to, in the way I projected in my own book. You've taught me to be firm in what I have always wanted to do. To be a good human being and leaving the rest to The Power we call the Almighty. I will do that. But, you please hold on.

From the second storey balcony I saw what happened down on the street. I remember the lights and the look on her face. I don't think I realized it back then, but this weekend the jigsaw puzzle showed itself. I don't know how to feel or react, laugh or cry, be hysterical or be myself, react on impulse or work on the planned path.

It wont be long I realise, but it will be long enough to have our own little world accelerated in our own little spaceship that will ever remain in the ascendancy.

Yours'

The Pune side of the Pastures

Well, this is purely extempore.


On the last working day before we close for the Diwali break here in office, with nothing motivating enough to do, and with an internet server down, thoughts lead me to write ‘this’. Oh! What timing, here comes the morning dose of (wake-me-up) tea. Great, we can move forward on this.

Back in Summer of 2011, May, when college got over, the sinking feeling was imminent. No more of the callous carefree attitude to all that I was a part of. But, since this fact had been drilled well into me, overcoming it was not that difficult after the first week. More-so, because this was the longest time I had to spend at home with mom, dad and Deepu in the past 4 years and for don’t know how many years in the future. Sitting at home and involving myself in the little things that made home, ‘home’ had been quite an experience, although the fact that Mission Pune was round the corner kept me from getting too complacent. I would have to admit, getting out of the cocoon at home and coming down to Pune was something I had been dearly looking forward to. Having no idea of what to expect and what not to, it was more like stepping into the dark; knowing that a lot can go wrong, and a few things should have to go right.

It began on the morning of 7th August. I call it ‘Al Pune’.

You know, the feeling of entering a new city, with a new job, with absolutely not even a known stranger to look forward to, with no baggage of people from the ‘old’ world and with the spirit to explore all that one can be involved in; is overwhelming and at the same time goose-bump material. And since, I had pushed myself into and pulled myself out (with new friends, new places explored and new experience) of similar situations, Al Pune definitely looked bright in prospect.

Flying out from the land of butter chicken and lassi into the land of vada pao and, well, butter chicken was how we got started (Geesh! Food obsession) And hands down; I have always claimed this ever since I got here, the weather is a sure super hit in this part of the world. Though I didn’t get to experience the place during the first week, being lavishly spoilt at the Sayaji with an entire new lot of freshers kept the initial nerves and excitement under control. The company On-Boarding session had been as interestingly sleepy as the college lectures got. But getting known to new people everyday and building rapports was the cool part. Every subsequent training session had always had the same genre about them; interestingly sleepy, new introductions, rapport building with existing colleagues and friends.

Work culture has been unbelievably relaxed and not that stressing; kind of an anti-climax of what I had been looking forward to. Though, yeah! Post Diwali break I know what to expect. In college it was always, you study, you get yours marks, you clear the cut off for the companies, you clear the test, you clear the GD, you clear the PI, get placed and then give-a-shit. But in the Corp. its an entirely different ball game. Its not a big deal whether or not you know how to speak good and fluent English, your seniors don’t expect you to address them as a Sir or a Madam, its okay if you stand up on your desk and ask your neighbor out for a stroll. I mean, the entire thing of corporate ‘this’ and corporate ‘that’ is kind of blown out of proportion (the voice at the back of my head sticks out the pacifier saying; ‘at least for now’).

Pune, as a place is genuinely worth exploring and indulging. I mean, it has its share of micro mini’s, hot long legs, sinking cleavages, crazy rush, maddening traffic sense, open roads, scenic hills, pulsating Lamborghini’s, simplistic Luna’s, rustic loons and yeah, genuinely beautiful girls. It gives you a feel of Delhi (no offence please; my Marathi brethren), minus of-course the Metro, the obvious Punjabi presence and the insecurity. Unlike what I have grown up on, Pune does really badly miss out on a decent public transport system within the city. For a Tier I city, this is a big turn down. I have mentioned the weather, and I should mention the traffic sense, no hidden fact, it sucks! Delhi, Ludhiana, Surat all have been unkind altogether; but nothing explains what is wrong with people when they get their ass behind the wheel or the handle. Though, in the same breath I would also have to admit, Marathi’s are kind people, genuinely (or it could be a case that I picked up the kind ones in sample size; whatever, I'll still buy the fact). Like, a shopkeeper would take time out to tell you from where to catch a bus to your destination, where to change lines, how much would the ticket cost; and if you push him further, he’ll also ask an auto driver to drop you to the place you want to and insist to pay by the meter.

From a foodie perspective, I have been made to believe that Pune is paradise, though yet to confirm it. Generally though, I’d buy that fact from whatever little I have seen around. The city has style, standard, oomph effect – and thus has to have a good foodie paradise to support all this. Again, the Delhi comparison! On a 100km radius from the city, Google baba (plus MadB, Gulabo, Mondu, Avinash and other people in office) claims that there are interesting places for excursions, trekking, long drives and weekend outings. From what I have seen, the Western Ghats have their own scenic beauty, very distinctive from the foothills of the Himalaya’s back home. Maybe it’s because of the time of the year I got to witness all of it, but the green layered hills and cloud capped peaks have been worth every ounce of their beauty depicted in all the guide books and travelogues I have come across.

The people with whom I have spent these three months have made Al Pune all-the-more worth looking-forward-to after the Diwali vacation. Siddie is a very balanced flat mate, STD is the mazze lene aur dilane wala flat mate, Munni is our silent man from the south land, Vandy is among the interestingly weirdest people I have ever come across, Gulabo has got me to learn more about myself, MadB deserves all credit for reviving my blogging habit and helping me around Pune, Phooly keeps me on my toes and Jalebi has the best “whaaaat!!??” ever! Sagar, Vijay, Manish have been people to look forward to meeting and chill during and after office hours.

Well, with that, that’s an hour and a half eaten away. The wake-me-up tea has become ice tea. Crap! Still no net connectivity. Well, I’d have to hijack Vijay to load this then. Thanks in advance dude.

So long till after the Diwali vacations!! Peace and happiness to one and all!!

PS. 'Interestingly Sleepy" is not a derogatory term.

Growing Up

Quite a while before the Home Alone pranks, the Shrek series, the Mr. Bean gags and the Harry Potter legacy got hold of our imagination and became the way toddlers grew up to kids; there were an altogether different ‘generation’ of children motion pictures and animation movies. Whilst all the above mentioned series’ emerged early at the turn of the century, the ‘generation’ I am talking about has been around since the mid 80’s. And I for one, with Deepu, Amrit and Ranjodh as siblings, grew up on them. That’s before Shing Chan, Ben10, Doremon, Pokemon, Dragon Ball Z and hell knows what other lousy sci-fi animated series took hold of my younger cousins’ imagination. From the days when all we had was Cartoon Network and (the then top-of-the-line) video cassettes to today’s Pogo, Hungama, Nick, Disney and (the oh-so-normal) DVD’s, our generation has really come of age. On a personal note I do loathe, and don’t make two senses of it, the ching-chang-chung animations. Period.

This here is a collection of the children motion pictures and animation movies that I have grown up with. The list is not entirely conclusive, so I’ll require you three, Deepu, Amrit and Ranjodh to add on anything I may have missed out. Some part or the other of each of some of these collections is still a vivid memory. So much for the love of growing up…!

They were indeed good ol’ days…!!!

The Jungle Book – the epic tale of Mowgli, Bagheera and Ballu as they chill out together, do some monkey business, some elephant talkies and fight off Sher Khan. The Monkey Dance Song and ‘Bare Necessities’ are forever classics and humming them brings back the nostalgia of watching the movie on a weekend as mom or chachi had popcorns popping away in the kitchen. A toast!!

Ballu & Mowgli



Monkey Business ;)







 

The Best Friends - Bagheera & Mowgli

"Bare Neccessities...!!"

"Just Wanna Be Like You" - Monkey Business

Lady and the Tramp – one of the first love stories I have ever seen; had to be between dogs. The typical rich, spoilt and willing to explore ‘girl’ meets the backstreet, adventurous ‘boy’. You see, the trend has never changed since then. The happy-go-lucky tale with the romantic angle (yes, a romantic song and a kiss as well!!) followed by the almost tragic end before the savior of the day comes to fore and unites the two love birds, I mean dogs. It had been good.

 

The first love story I happened to see on the telly had to be between dogs. ;) 

Beauty and the Beast – epic! One word that describes this animation movie is Epic. The tale starts off in a small village, a crazy scientist and his young (beauty-ful) daughter on a visit to the city, wild dogs, the magical enchanted castle and the beast; has all the ingredients a modern day masala movie would want. The more than friendly and welcoming ‘automatic’ pots and pans, wardrobes and pianos and what-not enchant the entire epic animation. The entire castle comes alive as they gear up as the villagers come to attack the beast. In a fierce battle the beast dies; and beauty confesses her love to the beast just before the last petal of the enchanted rose falls off, thus overcoming the curse placed on the beast, as he transformed into what he had originally been – a prince charming. The great grand daddy of all ‘Transformers’, this has always been one of my favorite.

 

One of the more magical and enchanting fairy tales I grew up on - The Grand Daddy of All Transformers

Bambi – this I’d have to admit had not been one of my favorite cartoon movies, more-so because of the rather sad tone of the entire movie. The tale of how a mother and baby deer are separated in a snow storm and how the foal grows up and ‘finds who he really is’ has not been one of my to-be-watched-again animations. Yet the movie resurfaced in memory many years after the toddler times, when I had been nicknamed Bambi, for a reason I have, up till now, been in the dark of.

 

The Lion King – this epic animation movie would always be in the top 5 of the best all time animations I have come across. Although there have been sequels to the original animation in ‘Lion King 2’ and ‘Simba’s Pride’, nothing beats the truly African Savanna touch of the first movie. Rafiki’s hailing to the gathered herds and the skies above, of the birth of the new cub prince of Mufasa is one of the more awe-inspiring scenes captured in mind. The music and the lyrics are African in nature, hip, jolly and hummable. Simba’s fun and frolic number with Zazu and Nala, ‘Oh I just can’t wait to be king’ or Uncle Scar’s intimidating ‘Be Prepared’; the music is what made the movie an epic. Then of course, Timon and Pumba groove on the ‘Hakuma Matata’. This phrase has been a part of the folklore around me in college. Simba’s awakening, his rekindled friendship with Nala and Rafiki’s, ‘It Is Time!’ make this movie a super-must watch. So much so, the more I type the more I want to get its print and relive those moments. This has been arguably the best of the lot. Having lived a good portion of my life near the African Savanna, the Lion King was always going to be an all time favorite.

The Lion King Pride 

 

 

Hakuna Matata - Timon, Pumba and Simba

  

 

 The Fight - Uncle Scar and Simba

Mufasa and Rafiki

"The Circle of Life" - at its best, illustrated by the African Savanna 

"Hakuna Matata; It means No Worries, for the rest of your days....."

"Be prepared; for the Coup of the Century" - intensity song!!

Hercules – the name says it all. Unarguably one of the more iconic heroes in historical based animated movies, Hercules has not lost its imagination grasping power, even now when it occasionally flashes over HBO or Pogo. Hercules, the Greek demigod, who is made a mortal, sent to earth, makes some loyal friends as he fights his way against his dad’s Zeus’ brother (don’t recall the name). There is also his love interest who with his bunch of friends and, if I correctly recall, a horse help him fighting the ‘bad guy’ and return to Olympus to be united with the Gods. Phew, this is what fairy tales had been made of.

  

 

The entire cast of Hercules'

Bob the builder – the name makes me ROFL. Mainly because of the lousy song my younger cousins hum, the one Pogo has had drilled into them; ‘Bob the Builder, kar ke dikhayenge’. Shukks. ROFL stuff. Don’t recall how the original movie was plotted but it had been fun throughout!

Cinderella – probably more of a metaphor now-a-day, the original Cinderella for me is just a random memory among the collection of animation movies and children motion pictures. Primarily girlie in approach, the tale of the young ‘real’ princess, tormented by her step mother and step sisters, who, with the assistance of a bunch of helpful rats, fights the adversity in life and with the charm of her Fairy-God-Mother (Harry Potter fans read: Patronus) attends a dinner ball where she finds her prince charming. And the story goes on as we all know. It’s a happily ever after tale.

Snow White – again, like Cinderella, this tale of a young beautiful girl who is saved from the clutches of her assassin and takes refuge in the adobe of 7 dwarfs in the middle of the jungle. The epitomized, ‘Mirror Mirron on the Wall, Who is the Fairest of us All’ by her step mother / witch is what makes this tale last forever in memory. Another of the happily ever after tales, the name never gets out of sight (nor mind) as now we have an apparel change by the same name.

Over to the Children Motion Picture Segment

Bedknobs and Broomsticks – have seen this movie plenty of times to recall it pretty vividly. These 3 (or were they 4?) siblings who are made to be adopted by a cranky witch, have this magical bed, which would go to anyplace you tell it to only of you screw the bed knob in a particular direction for a particular number of rotations, tap it a particular number of times and mumble some ‘humma dumm dumm’. This young disaster of a witch with the help of the siblings, go flying across London to find an ancient spell that would save England and themselves in the impeding war. Yes! Pretty much, that is the crux of the tale. It does have some animated parts. Have to so very bloody watch it again!

The Magical Bed - with the main cast

Rustic London music @ the Chor Bazaar equivalent - Portebello Road

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – I still remember chichi jaan humming the song of the movie. It was one of the awe inspiring movies of ‘those’ times about a car that will fly in the air and float on water. There is this family (or do they just get together by chance?) who go flying for some reason or the other. Somehow they get into the clutches of the bad people who keep them imprisoned. They do something to make their escape possible. Damn! I have lost track of so much. Delhi is due this vacation. Have to bloody catch up again. (No! I’d rather not Google up the plot)

The Sound of Music – revolutionary for its age, this movie was about this nun who wanted to break free. Not from the sanctity of the church, but more generally to explore the world and travel. She moves around and comes to the house of some rich guy where she’s appointed the caretaker of these kids. A musical in the truest for, the everlasting song has to be “Doe a deer, a female deer; Ray, a drop of golden sun; Me, a name, I call myself; Far, a longer way to run”. The ‘saregama’ should have something like this. There must have been some sort of story involving some tragedy, or challenge, or a love angle; I don’t recall. But have always remembered watching this movie had been fun.

Marry Poppins – Finally, got this far. Marry Poppins, a movie that can take credit for giving the name of this blog. Another tale, somewhat similar to B&B and Sound of music (sans the magical aspect, that is), is about this wonderful witch who comes to be the caretaker of the kids of a family in urban London. How she gets them in line and takes them on a trip of a lifetime, where they enter a painting on the road, is how the movie plot gives way. There is the male lead as well. Loved the movie for Supercalifragilisticexialidocious.

Sing Along - "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" ..!!!

101 Dalmatians – pretty straight forward; a tale of an average guy and girl who fall in love and move in together (I think, they do marry). Their respective pet dogs, both Dalmatians, who got them to meet in the first place, also get ‘in a relationship’ and have pups. 101 of them. The evil boss of the girl, Cruela De’ Vill, gets fanatic about using the fur of the Dalmatians for a gown of hers, and hires two cranky burly guys to hijack the pups and bring them to her. The story is how the two burly guys do the Home Alone antics as they are tricked by the pups; and how the doggie network works in getting all the hounds of the city together for the cause of saving the 101 pups. Cruela De’ Vill also comes into the struggle to get the pups towards the end. Though, the pups are all saved and De Vill is handed over to the cops for some animal offence charge. There had been a sequel to this tale in 102 Dalmatians, though I don’t think I saw it. The 101 version had been fun watch.

Babe the Gallant Pig – wow! Nostalgia! The tale of a farmer and his wife who are debt ridden on their farm and see the option of a lottery or something in taking their baby pig to the city for something I don’t recall. It’s great fun to watch the farmer’s wife take the baby pig to the city; where, of all things there are no pet pigs! She finds a place to live where the pig makes some friends who are rather indifferent to him. They perform a song / dance sequence where a fire goes off and the old man of the place where they live dies. There is also a struggle to fight off some people who want to take over the place they are putting up in. Babe, the pig saves the day here and with the help of the animals manages to pull off the lottery thing. It is a happy ending. This too, is on the watch list this vacation!

Ranjodh, bro is has indeed been of great help searching up the old drawers and dictating me the entire collection we had. Some of the movies I don’t have registered in memory, but which, as you say, we have seen, are follows:

(a) Rugrats,

(b) Airbud – a tale of a sports dog,

(c) Beethoven – a tale of a pet dog,

(d) Polly – something about a green parrot,

(e) Homeward Bound – a tale of 2 cats and 3 dogs finding their way home when their family lose them in air transit,

(f) Hunchback of Notre Dame – (couldn’t recall it’s story, had to put it in this list) a tale that had been one of my favorite but now a memory, is about this orphaned kid who is taken into custody by the local church, where he is the guy who sounds the hourly gong. I don’t recall how this ugly looking ‘hero’ gets his way out; there must have been a ‘princess charming’; need some Google help.

And that is, atlast, that!!!
Geesh.. I'll never make any blog this long; had it not been for the sake of growing up with Deepu, Amrit and Ranjodh... Cheers, Siblings..! RoFl...!

Why Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Well, frankly I don't recall around when was he first time I came across this word. It was definitely while watching the movie Marry Poppins back in Nairobi. I recall humming the tune of the song, though had no idea what the word was. It was, a very long, some time after that in Delhi when I got this word again. Chachiji, was amused by some of Amrit - Ranjodh's antics and began humming the tune that was registered somewhere in my head.

After some google-ing and youtube-ing I finally got to the real word and song I had been searching for since childhood. Since then, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious has been a part of my life. I had put it on trial during college. Whenever I felt that there is a need of something to say, without having any idea about the dialogue going on, this word has come to my rescue. More like my Patronus charm. The word gives the other person(s) an impression of me saying something intelligent and gets the attention of the listener(s) at an instant. It has so far had a 100% success in sending the initial conversation for a six till I have been able to conjure something more meaningful to contribute in the ongoing convo.

I can safely say that I managed to get quite some following on this word for its totally 'out-of-this-world-ness'.

Naming a blog on this word? Well, just something to keep conversations from getting blank. Some thing that spells out to catch your attention. Whether or not it manages to deliver to its name is for you to decide.

In retrospect, there are oh-so-many blogs by this name. So hardly makes a difference. And, anyway, what's in a name?

Peace!

Little Deeds of Kindness

I do not know why I am calling this entry by this name. I mean, there is so much more about this episode than the act of kindness. In defense though, to come to think of it, this entire episode would not have been possible without the little deed of kindness. Dad and Mom, if you ever read this, I dedicate this to you. Or yeah, whatever, either way, this goes out to you two. Secondly; Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet, brothers, apologies for what I had to do to you guys for this.

What was the date? Err… 30th March 2011, I think.

That morning, when I got up, little did I know what surprise I had in store waiting. A normal weekday morning, had everything normal about it, except that this Wednesday would go a long way in history. The morning pleasantries, breakfast etcetera. Mom and Deepu were at home. I asked mom where papa was. She said that he had to get to the bank for some urgent work. He’d better be back fast before the roads become inaccessible.

I went to the roof top. It was 9 in the morning and you could see there was a crowd filling in attendance. Already? Any other day I would have cussed the crowds for having nothing else to do. But not today. This was unarguably going to be a very big day in many peoples’ lives. It was the 2011 Cricket World Cup semifinal, the host, we the Indians, pitted against arch rivals, Pakistan, playing on the very land that divides the two republics, the same land that witnessed many a bloody battle between two of the more stubborn nations over their 60 year history, the land that shares the same name on either side of the border, the land of proportional measure either side of the border, Punjab. You couldn’t blame anyone for the emotions that ran high. This was epic material. This was as if a flash of the wand of destiny made everything fall into place. If there ever was to be an “it” moment, for a cricket crazy fan, for a cricket nation, this had to be it.

I didn’t try to get a ticket for the match. No, I mean, I did try but I knew I could have done better. Whatever! Hardly makes any difference. We had a plan of our own. The new Panasonic Plasma was to don the roof top when the sun went down that evening. The mehfil was to begin then. Lit by the stadium flood lights nearby, back ground score by the forty thousand strong choruses in the cauldron, brought straight to us with an 8 second delay by DishTV (I can’t believe it, I should be paid for naming those lousy morons in this entry), food and drinks, on the house. This was to be a special way of making optimal use of our proximity to the PCA, the Punjab Cricket Association Stadium, Mohali, Punjab. In special attendance were to be Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet.

Sigh! It was 9.30 and from the roof it was visible that the lines from the gates had reached already our street. That’s like almost 200m. And by 10.00 they had blocked direct access to our main gates. Mom summoned me down around then and told me to head to Chandigarh to pick up dad who had caught up on a puncture on Dubeyji’s bike. I took off and got dad back. It was difficult meandering through the masses that had now been standing in the line for almost four hours. I knew the gates were to open at 1 in the afternoon for a 3pm match start. Another better part of three hours to go. Golly! This is indeed a cricket crazy nation; an understatement.

I asked dad about the trip to the bank, early in the morning. I was told that that some loan taken against the place we were staying had been neutralized, (use any financial term you’d like, for me it’s neutralized) which meant that a major tension was over and done with. (Read this between the lines – normally mom gets tenser about such things, but, well you would not blame her for it). Anyway, this was really good news. I mean really good news.

Just soon as the info regarding the loan thing being sorted settled down, dad suggested we do something for the crowd assembling outside our house to get in the stadium. Douh! He suggested we put up sweetened drinking water, chhabeel, on a table within our premises for the fans to have. It goes with a Punjabi tradition and in the Sikh culture, of offering a refreshing drink on the roads to travelers during the peak summer months of April to July, as a commemoration to the 5th Sikh Guru’s sacrifice.

To come to think of it, this was indeed the ‘optimal use of our proximity’ to the PCA, and with the loan thing sorted out, it made all the more sense. But! It would be excruciatingly killing to serve those freaking lucky few who had managed to get their hands on tickets to witness this saga. Damn. The pangs of jealousy. But yeah, when dad says so to do it, and mom agrees, there’s almost nothing that you can do or say without sounding senseless. So, we got to it. Deepu and I set up the table just inside the gate got the water supplies as mom and papa were preparing the sweetener to be added on. I opened the gates and announced that water is being served for everyone who needs it. And we were on.

It felt good. Initially only the few people who were just in front of the gate came up. But as word spread, many more people from nearby also started pouring in. A true working successful example of how a good product and service can market your enterprise. Soon the sweetened water was also arranged and our house gate was thronged. A working example of the production planning tool of supply management based on the demand forecast. Also had hands on experience of the effect of the fluctuating demand on the method and mode of supply. Then we realized a very common psychology with people standing in the lines. No one would like to leave their positions for water, when they had waited for over 2 hours in the heat. So this gave way to the next brainwave, of walking down the road serving 15 glasses of the chhabeel at a time. Although each round lasted less than a few 10 meters here and there, is was the farthest reaching approach to reach the customer. A Marketing Tool again.

And when everyone you serve returns the favor with a ‘thanks’ you tend to feel good, about having done something good. About having done a little deed of kindness. And with each glass, ‘India ko jeeta ke aana’. God! This cricket crazy country!

And then… Like a bolt of lightning straight out of nowhere, a guy came up to the gate, the table on which we had the glasses placed. He wispered, “Dude, are you also watching the match?” “Yes, I am. On TV.” “We have an extra ticket of a friend who didn’t turn up. Would you want it?” Oh My God…!!! “Are you serious?” “Well, yes, we had a mind to sell it anyway and thought of asking you guys first, since you are doing a great job.” “Yes. I want the ticket. How much do I have to pay for it?” “It’s a general block ticket. For 500/-. Pay as much as you think is right.” Oh! This frikking conscious. This ticket is worth a gazillion at this hour. Barely an hour before play begins. And I have the right to pay whatever I want to for it…! Mom was nearest at hand, a wise person to have at a time like this. She asked me whether I had called the guy up or he came forward himself. She asked me whether the guy had bought the ticket in black or from the counter. Since it was him who came forward, she told me it made sense to pay the amount the guy had to pay for the ticket originally, either in black or otherwise.

When I got back to the guy at the gate, he insisted that I pay as much I deemed perfect for the ticket without disclosing how much he paid for it. Hell! This is insane. I dished out a 500/- Gandhi for the ticket in my hand, and the guy left the gate and became a part of the overflowing crowd rearing to enter the ‘Coliseum’.

Dad, refused to believe the authenticity of the ticket unless I be able to enter the stadium. I was lost for words or any expressions. Within five minutes, from doing the rounds of serving water to being a proud ticket holder, I didn’t know what made sense or what not. Vipul and Arjit would have insisted I sell the ticket for a couple of thousand bucks and watch the match in a lavish lounge.

I don’t know. I decided. It’s not normal for some random guy, whose name I don’t know, whom I don’t recognize, to come up to me of all thousands of other ticketless people and offer me the match ticket that begins in an hour or so. Forget the cost of the ticket. It comes down to the Ying-Yang concept. The do good and get good. It comes down to that little deed of kindness you do, by instinct or all the more willingly, that pays dividends. It’s a very conveniently arguable issue. It’s sometimes very clichéd. It may be ironical at times. Whatever! I don’t preach deeds of kindness, but when you happen to do some, something good would definitely happen. And for me I got to experience something un-matched probably unmatchable. Probably so much so, that no other contest would be worth watching live in the PCA ever again. On the other hand, (hysterically speaking) I don’t think I would have ever forgiven myself for not watching “this” match in the stadium next to our house after what happened later that evening, and more so, a few days later on 2nd April.

So, as it happened to be. I finished off with the water serving at the gate. Left Deepu and Papa to carry on the same for some time till most of the crowd had thinned down. Changed into something for the occasion and hared across the nearby parks to get to the entry gate my ticket directed me to. No hassle, an easy access into the stadium premises. Further into the actual playing arena. This indeed was “it”. Dad got to believe that we hadn’t been duped of 500/- bucks. The summer sun in the afternoon was at its piercing best. But nothing could have diluted the spirits. The icing on the cake was, by far, by-way-far, the feeling of 35,000 people singing the National Anthem together. Literally Goosebumps stuff.

The next eight hours would be an embedded memory for a very long time, and with this blog entry, for an even longer time. Screaming and shrieking my lungs coarse with other 40,000 or so unknown people, witnessing India gallop to victory was as befitting as it gets. I guess I would have to catch up on cricinfo.com regarding the intricate details, but the overall feeling is pretty much put-into-words by this.

I’d definitely owe this treasured experience to that little deed of kindness dad and mom got me to do. God! This really had been awesome.

It goes without saying that Arjit, Vipul and Jagpreet were left high and dry on that evening. The new Panasonic Plasma after-all didn’t get to don the roof that night. But well guys, if you read this, apologies again. And knowing your replies, fuck you again! :)

Cheers!!!

Glimpses:

The Pavilion in the scorching summer afternoon sunshine The cheering crowds in the Grand Stands

The Pavilion, as dusk sets in. One of the better lit moments of the game

The flood lights in full blaze Cheering our team to Victory The Winning Moment at Mohali

A few days later, in Mumbai, this happened. That, totally justified this evening. (c/o www.cricinfo.com)

Seal It With A Hug

I would have to admit that this is not my original creation; at least the idea of writing about the magic of a hug is not. Though I’d take credit for what I have expressed in it and about it.

There are many times when you feel down and low. When you feel that you are the only one left to face the challenges, the uphill task, the dull monotony of life. There are times when all you want is the companionship of anyone, someone who would not say a word to you but would just sit and listen to all the crap-of-a-sense you are making.

Among all the various senses known to mankind, the sense of touch is the most comforting, relaxing, intimidating, if you may, arousing and one that gives a feeling of fulfillment. When you touch it’s not only your skin that touches, a connection between two induvidual is made acts like a live wire for the sense of belonging to flow. And the sense of belonging is by far, what I believe, one of the most necessary, vital and driving forces to keep oneself in spirits to fight through all that is thrown at one.

A hug is a touch that encompasses all sorts of tactile emotions. It is as if the giver and the receiver are pouring into one another the very sense of belongingness, the very sense of being human. The emotion of a hug is something that is way beyond the sexual arena. It is not a lustful expression, as sometimes perceived.

It’s more like a yo-yo. You send it forward and it zinggss back to you in no time. More like a boomerang. It’s a magnetic field that aligns all of one’s worries and happiness’ into a streamline that makes all situations worth living. It gives the inner strength to fight through, to live through adversity. It gives satisfaction that you too have something good in you to share with someone else and to have made his/her this moment worth living.

Different types of hugs convey different meanings with the basic crux being the same, that of belongingness. A goodbye hug means I enjoyed the time we had together, and hope to meet you soon again. A hello hug means that I am glad we have been able to meet again. An I-love-you hug means that I will always be there for you come what may. A friendly hug says, dude, don’t mind but I enjoy pulling your leg. An uncle – aunty hug means, hmph, here we go again. A chat hug means I wish you were here this moment as I miss you and want to catch up on loads of stuff. A photo hug makes the pic more uploadable in facebook. Then of course there is the gigantic Punjabi rib cage crushing hug that reregulates the air supply, all to convey that, hey, you are still alive. So live…!!!

Hug your parents, your grandparents and make them feel that you love them, that you value all that they have given you in whatever way they have. Feel blessed in their arms. Hug your lover and feel the very sense of existence flow throughout your body. It is one of the more satisfying moments worth living. Hug your friends, hug your colleague, hug anyone who has made you feel alive and make a point of returning the favor. For starters, hug yourself and feel thankful for what you have been able to do for yourself.

A word of caution!!! Not everyone is comfortable with a hug. Make sure you aren’t trespassing someone’s personal space, as some people are very protective of it. So take a measure and work towards making everyone aware about this wonderful feeling.

So, Cheers, to a wonderful life.

P.S. Thanks Pushky and Trish. I owe this entry to you two.