23 July, 2008

Flash-back

Sometimes tags help in more ways than one. One is the obvious solution to a writers block. Then, it gives you a chance to boast or vent, either of which you would feel ashamed to do if you werent provoked by someone else into doing it. And finally, like Im just going to do, you get to parade the past of your blog, the past that has faded to memory, and in some cases, the past no one ever thought existed.

What you have to do is simple: Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given : family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like. Tag 5 other friends to do this. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better. (gosh, Im getting so lazy i actually copy-pasted this too. or maybe im just too used to ctrl-c, ctrl-v for my own good)

Anyways, here's the answer to the tag (btw people, its the posts that i want you to read, not the names, so make sure you click on each of them, and actually read!)


Family - Mom. Actually i should put this too.

Friends - well, i havent written about friends. I once called someone my best friend on my blog, and since then we've been anything but that. But maybe you could take this peak into my distant past. A friend's testimony


Myself - This was my first post. So I preffered it over the more recent 'me' tag.

Love - hmmm, again im not sure i have an answer. But if you'll accept blabbering as my first love, here's a sample

Finally, Anything i like! thank you btw, because iv been wanting to showcase this article I wrote about Roger Federer two years ago. I cant say how much I liked the product.

Now to give away tags.

Ab (the female Ab, hmmph), Jimmy and Vishnnupriya

and the new vagrants, my new pakistani buddy, Tazeen, and an old horse who used to be the most frequent visitor here, Rama (ok say Rama, what else must I do to make you come back?)


07 July, 2008

Aby's day out

Anyone at the finals of the Chennai Open squash tournament at the ICL Squash Academy yesterday would’ve naturally assumed I was passionate squash enthusiast, an admirer of Dipika Pallickal, the local girl, playing in the womens final or a journalist! For that should broadly cover the profile of the sparse crowd that assembled to watch



Of course, you wouldn’t make that mistake if you were already there when I arrived. For no journalist would bank on borrowing his prime weaponry - a pen and some paper- from the tournament organisers. And surely no squash enthusiast would actually wind up asking the Indian national coach, and arguably, the most recognizable figure in Indian Squash, Cyrus Poncha “and you are….?”, that too on his home turf!

Well, I must pause here a moment to talk about Cyrus. There was the Head coach of the Indian National Squash team, right at the door of the sporting complex, to welcome me in with the warmest “hi, you’re the first person in today” that you can imagine from a person who’s name is pronounced everytime any person talks about the game in India, a Dronacharya awardee even at his young age. Only too glad to oblige me with the back side of the score sheet of the previous days match, and his pen. And only too humble to reply to the inadvertent “and you are….?”, with a wonderful smile and “uhh… My name is Cyrus Poncha. I happen to be the coach of the Indian team”. I knew that!


Getting back, after an obnoxiously long hour waiting - an hour in which I chatted up with the Chennai sports reporter from Times, the Express reporter who did not want to be interrupted, a mallu fan of Dipika Pallickal, and a wannabe motivational speaker and author Ashok, who attends sports competitions to get ideas for his speeches, and watched the players doing exercise routines to warm up while listening to whatever was playing on their ipods – began a match of what is known to be the fastest sport in the world. Very soon it would strike me that it was not only the fastest, but maybe one of the most energy sapping too! The only game with caged players – not counting certain exhibitions of a make-believe sport christened as World wrestling entertainment - a game in which camera’s peep out of glass panes designed into the wall so that they can capture the faces of the players – a previlege spectators miss – and a game with the least aesthetics when it comes to hitting, which more looks like plain lunging at a ball that apparently can never be punctured.


And did not Ritwik Battacharya, the reigning champion, get off to a rocker. With a blatant display of pure strength and raw aggression, he looked as if he would run away with the match against a relatively smaller and tame-looking Sourav Goshal before I could even get familliar with the rules of the game. But that was only in the first game. In the second, Saurav looked like he was just wearing Ritwik in the first as he out–ran, out-shot, out –placed and out-rallied his veteran opponent out of the rest of the game to win 7-11, 11-7, 11-7, 11-6 in under 50 minutes. He was greeted by, among few others, the contender for the womens title and his good friend, Dipika Pallickal.


Now this is the first tournament I have witnessed with the tenacity to hold the womens finals after the men’s, and on a bigger and newer court! And maybe for good reason. For the bigger hall soon had a good enough crowd to make some kind of noise in the pretext of cheering. And there suddenly was a host of voices – presumably friends of the local girl – shouting ‘come on Dipika’ to a point where one would sympathise with her opponent from Hong Kong, who eventually won but had just one Indian, a four–foot tall boy walking up to shake her hand after the match. A boy who was startled to realize she didn’t understand his language, English, too young to know that sport has a language of its own, a language that transcends cultures, a language where emotions like applause, congratulation, booing, or swearing needs no classroom experience.

****


Well that was an attempt at covering a live event, an attempt to hone my journalistic skills, or test them, depending on your point of view. Only that it turned out to be more of a frolic writing, But the crown of the evening was this conversation I had after the event, with a friend I sing with at the Madras Musical Association choir.

Me : heyyy (in my new endearing style that at best, sounds sexily smooth)

She : heyyyy (ya, my way of saying heyyy calls for a similar response)

“So wassup.. how come you’re here?”

“uhh well, Im the wife of Cyrus Poncha”

“OH MY GOD”

‘why, you know him?

“uh… well, I was the first person in today….”

By now she was looking out for her husband, and suddenly doubts creeps in my mind on the lines of, am I talking to who I think I am. I quickly take leave and message a friend “hey, keep this between us, ok? That parsi girl who sings with us, is she uh... well, married?”


04 July, 2008

Putting it in perspective


She: "Dunno...wht do u think o a marriage alliance between our families?"

He: "Ahhh well..., for a alliance between our families, you would have to have descended from one of the most prestigious Syrian Christian (also known as su-kri) families in Central Travancore, with roots that can be traced atleast back to the time St. Thomas landed in the country, have a blue-blooded parentage, and for good measure, have a few priests or bishops in the lineage.

"But of course, if you were all those, I wouldnt marry you!"

Naah, I didnt say this. One of those intelligent wisecracks that strike your brain approximately 24 hours after its due!

01 July, 2008

Mysterious God

Our God works in mysterious ways. The problem is, you got to be God to actually fathom what the ways actually look like!
Like I was thinking, wouldnt it have been so much more easier if God just sent us an email or rang us up saying 'this is My will. Do this!"
But now, we've got to find out what actually might be Gods will, try your best to keep on convincing ourselves that we're still on the right track even when things look like the world might crash down on you any minute, and of course, accepting in your mind that after all this, there's a good chance that this wasnt Gods will all along!
I just told mom this and she says its because 'God is God and you are Man'. Wonder what she meant!