Uno Momento

Each moment arrives ripe with possibility, with the promise of the unexpected. Some crystallize steady liaisons into life long affairs, others trade old romances for new ones. Some let it pass through while immersed in the silence of rippling water on a small electric water fountain; some choose to jump towards the earth, held only by a shred of plastic and a cord that absolutely must function. In some strict sense, each iota of time is the same, yet can be measured differently by the impact it has. Which makes some moments more important than the others. Each moment is hardly just that, it is a decision. An inalienable bit of truth that you can’t detach from you for the times to follow. And there are others when time stops and stretches itself, like an extended yawn on a Sunday morning. I love those moments. When you see a rain drop tear itself from the sky and watch it pass by you onto the ground as you stare out the window of your third floor office, or when you see the ball seem to slow down as it comes from the bowler’s hand, as if to give you that extra half second to play your shot.

We live in large measures of time: hours, days, years too. Yet most of life is humdrum and just a straight line connecting the dots that are the highlights of one’s life. And by that, I don’t even mean all significant events, but simply those that stand out without warning, that approach you without announcing the unbridled special feeling they bring along, and they are rarely spectacular to others but yourself. Here’s to celebrating your own private collection of extraordinary instants. For there's a charm when a moment is passing; watching that transience take over when you’ll never be what you were and never be what you will become.

Permanent Insanity

BCCI has done it again. It has riled me enough to wake me out of my blogging slumber. For days I have been searching for something that I feel passionate enough to write about. Trust the greediest organization that exists today to do this. The IPL tamasha has been in full swing. They have put an end to the international careers of people like Shane Bond because they aren’t competing in their twenty-twenty league. Now they are nailing the coffin efficiently by shunting out test matches. I saw a news article today about how BCCI will sacrifice a test match during England’s tour of India to accommodate, hold your breath, seven one day internationals and two twenty-twenty games!!! Ostensibly, the reason being given is that England’s players want to be back by Christmas. Forget for once the fact that Indian players in the past have always had to tour around Diwali. I mean, you can’t expect the Indian board to care about that, right? However, sacrificing a test match to accommodate two or three more mind-numbing, inconsequential bouts of fifty over games is infuriating. Who the hell remembers these games? Raise your hand if you can recollect any of the matches of the seven match one day series between India and Australia last year. Now, raise your hand if you remember what happened in the test series in Australia soon after. I rest my case. I know of course that I am in a minority. I cling by the silly romance of the test match, the belief that it is a true test of skill and quality. I know that most cricket viewers today don’t have the patience to watch a day long game, and would rather be done within three hours. Watching a test match is out of the question altogether. I know of course that in the long term test matches will reduce substantially, what with BCCI in full pursuit. However, I am entitled to my frustration. Today’s cricket viewer probably deems cricket as mere entertainment, where bowlers are props and the number of boundaries and sixers is directly proportional to the amount of satisfaction a viewer ends the day with. Subtlety is a curse. Unfortunately, BCCI will speed track that argument to satisfy its thirst for money. I feel for my game, and the shabby treatment it is being meted out. I wouldn’t be surprised if the pitches for the South Africa test matches turn out to be deadpan batting tracks resulting in draws (akin to the Pakistan team’s turn) thus allowing BCCI more freedom in killing of what is obviously no golden goose for it.

Street Sell

Stained,
Chipped,
Faithful,
Honest,
Listener,
Confidant,
Heirloom,
Grandmother's
Mirror,
Priceless,
Yours ...
For a buck