Rain In Spain

Sharing my publication on this site called 'One forty fiction'. The intent is to write a short story in, hold your breath, 140 characters. It is a fine challenge and I am happy to be published here. I can promise that this will be a quick read :)

http://www.onefortyfiction.com/archives/rain-in-spain

Face-Off

Very thrilled to share my latest publication on this fine site for poetry - Every Day Poets. They had announced on the first of this month that I was to feature on the list of published poets this month, and it is finally here. Hope you enjoy it.

http://www.everydaypoets.com/face-off-by-parth-pandya/

Survivor Series

Someone give me a T-shirt which says ‘I survived the England and Australia tours’. I deserve it. And so do the countless souls who have braved the gut wrenching times that the past two tours have presented. When your team is team is performing like world champions, you can’t wait for the next match to happen. We’ll show you – yes, we will. We have the uncanny Zaheer Khan – he will make you dance to his tunes. We have the supporting cast of bowlers to die for. We have a captain who can do no wrong. We have batsmen who can butcher bowling attacks. Big Three, Big Five – heck we have the Big Eleven. Foreign shores – we are on our way. We have conquered everything in our past recently, we have proved we are good travelers outside. Win a match you ask? We will win the series – all past ills will be cured, Tendulkar’s name will go up at Lords. What can go wrong? Adrenaline clouds judgment and makes hindsight look obvious. What started off as a limp in Zaheer’s follow through after a few over and two wickets was metaphorically the hamstring injury that Indian cricket suffered with (and is still struggling with) for both the series. The chips fell apart spectacularly after that – a bowling attack without venom spent innings after innings giving away runs, and the batting attack could simply not deal with the swinging ball. Greats such as Tendulkar and Laxman were looking like schoolboys at times. Tendulkar’s 100^th ton’s appearance as an albatross around his neck began in England and it threatens now to consume the twilight of his career. Dravid was to spark brilliantly in England; plowing his way at workmen centuries that weren’t enough to avert a whitewash. Yes, it was a series win after all – but not by the team that were the purported favorites. The team’s bizarre team selections were only beginning to show – taking a half fit Zaheer and a half fit Sehwag over someone will perhaps lesser talent but better physical state was a sign of times of come. The joker in the pack from the selection committee was bringing in a RP Singh to play a test match when he had just returned from consuming sufficient margaritas in Miami.

That was England, one thought. Australia would bring in different results. After all, our batsmen are lords there. Tendulkar, who was getting standing ovations in the last tour there was definite to score his ton of tons here. And in typical Tendulkar fashion, he started well in the first two matches, only to fall to his greatest nemesis – Sachin Tendulkar. That Sachin Tendulkar, who inexplicably shuts off shop mentally and treats each ball like a landmine. That Sachin Tendulkar, who allows bowlers and opposition captains to get his wicket when they are least expecting to get it. What happened to the rest, you ask? Sehwag flashed and got out, because that’s the only way we bats. Pity that all that flashing was not getting any runs. Gambhir gave good slip fielding practice. Laxman was half a second slow in his reflexes. Dravid, the great wall, gave a generation of his followers the intense heartbreaks by getting bowled again and again. The bowlers had little by way of impact and barring Kohli in the last two matches and Umesh Yadav in patches, the test series was a goner. Another whitewash. The ODIs were not much better, barring the last rather incredible chase by Kohli and India, but we would have to kid ourselves if we thought we deserved to be in the finals. A time down in the dumps, rife with internal fighting and with a captain who did not even know that India had any chance of qualification, before the Sri Lanka game was always headed home in a hurry.

Why, they ask me? My friends, colleagues, curious onlookers, once followers of cricket. Why do you still follow? I don’t have any cogent answers other than the fact that I must be a glutton for punishment. Cricket lovers – true cricket lovers, not the ones enamored by the IPL tamasha, are like that. When you have followed your team through thick and thin (mostly thin, when it came to the test arena) over two decades, you don’t abandon ship so soon. When you have followed your favorite cricketers when they turned in world-class performance year after year against great bowling attacks, and in fact have raised their level to take your team to the top of the test world, you don’t stop following them at the sign of the first leak in the boat. You sit through it – you learn that cricket, as in life, is about the ups and downs and while frustrating, it is a rite of passage to stick through it. True passion isn’t all joy, it is a sweet debilitating pain – like getting stuck on 99 centuries, lying in agonizing for that one final hurrah.

A Conversation

This topic for Spark's March 2012 issue was ‘Women: Facets and Forms’. Tricky topic :) Here's a little poem about the insufficient acknowledgement of the role of women in the process of creation and destruction.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=3470

A Little Short

Coffee. Gas in the car. Patience waiting in line. Courtesy for the cashier. Cash in his wallet. Luck. It was a day of running out on things.

Ups and Downs

Fact and fiction ride with him on the seams of a wave. He is God right now, walking on water. Soon, the ruthless sea will break his reverie.

A Long Prelude

My article in this month's issue of the Spark magazine. The topic they had was 'Happy Beginnings and Happy Endings'. The choice of topic was easy this time - Happy Beginnings don't come easier than the arrival of an offspring. However, the journey leading upto it is also worth its weight (or wait). Read on.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=3252

Deity On Bose Marg

I am here -
Towering above you.
Sinewy arms,
Sparkling eyes,
And glistening beads of sweat.

I am here
and I am your God
peddling my religion
of cool

I am here
And I intend
To make you in My image.
Come, follow me.

The Illusion

Spark, the online magazine that I have been contributing to, completes two year. As part of their special anniversary issue, they asked their regular contributors to work on specific topics. I got asked to write a short story on 'Exploring Relationships'.

So, here goes - a thousand word story not for the faint-hearted. Here's the build up: "Vishruti is waiting for someone as the waves go about their business in the busy city of Mumbai. Who is she waiting for and what’s the meeting going to be all about?" Read on.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2966

The Insomniac

He let
Cigarette stubs litter
Like petals from a withered flower.

Comrades in his surrender,
Waiting for sleep
To come and claim him.

The Raconteur

Here's my poem, published in the December issue of the magazine Spark. Their theme for the month was 'Time Machine'. I took a slightly different view of the time travel aspect - essentially making Time a companion, accompanying it in its travels, as it travels with me.

In deference to the request that the Spark team has, to ensure enough and more people see their magazine, here's a link to the poem. Please visit the link below to read it.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2847

Collateral Damage

The old gift became a martyr
In a lover’s tiff.
A mug, shattered to pieces,
That once shared, a message in ceramic,
“Love Endures”

Hum Intezaar Karenge

It was the late hours of the evening, where the professed time of sleep for my son had arrived. I was due to perform that duty, reading a set quota of books to him, written by authors I have never heard off. I fired up my trusty Windows smartphone to see what the score might be. On the other side of the world, near the shores of the Arabian Sea, a diminutive giant of a man was heading towards a statistical Everest. Flurries of boundaries as well as an upper cut over the ropes were showing up in the twitter-like commentary that the mobile version of the site was providing. In due deference to the moment that was to arrive, I asked my wife to drop whatever it she was doing and take over my task for the night.


I was an ‘I was there’ moment for me that would translate into an ‘I wasn’t there’ moment for my son; but I am sure he’ll understand when he grows up.

I rushed down to the hall downstairs, switched on my laptop, headed to my list of streaming sites that I trust to bring me the telecast, and cozied myself into my sofa seat, ready for the inevitable. Since updating my Facebook status while cricket goes on has become a regular habit since the World Cup, I posted the following: “I have nails to bite and I am biting them. He has 99 centuries and he is on 94. Hmm, 99.94 :)”

I have enough cricket-crazy friends on my Facebook list to not have to explain the significance of that number. I wrote that, clicked enter, and shifted to the window with the live feed. Ravi Rampaul, the one who produced a brute of a delivery to get Tendulkar’s wicket in the World Cup game, played a similar hand. Ball pitched just short of length, and bouncing just a tad more. Tendulkar, who had batted beautifully until then, decided to hit a trademark backfoot punch. Wrong choice of shot. The celebrations of Rampaul and Sammy would not have endeared them to Indian fans, but hey, they had every right to rejoice.

One mistake and the interminable wait extends. With Tendulkar out of the ODI series against the Windies, the onus shifts to MCG and the Boxing Day game. I know that Australia is one of Tendulkar’s favorite opponents, but a tour of Australia should not have had this landmark to contend with. More drama added to this tale.

I frequented some news articles on the missed opportunity, and as with any Tendulkar article, you realize that he is damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t. People, who would scarcely score a run in gully cricket, call him selfish and playing for records and hogging place in the team; never mind that he still remains one of the top scorers in the team. People who don’t know in swing from out swing believe that he remains incapable of scoring another ton, never mind that he has scored 99 before this. 99! If your mind doesn’t jump everytime you read that statistic, it is simply because nothing Tendulkar does will ever be good enough. He sets a benchmark and keeps excelling it. That single-minded pursuit of greatness, without losing his humility is a very rare cocktail, one which has brought him thus far.

When will century no. 100 happen? I don’t know. At the start of the World Cup, I had posted on Facebook that my dream was that Tendulkar would score a century in the final at Wankhede; his 100th, and then India would lift the cup. That came very close; yesterday was very close, and perhaps there are a couple more heartaches along the way. Nonetheless, watching the man play is a blessing that we should enjoy, without getting lost in the absolute numbers. Sometimes, a straight drive hit right between the stumps and the bowler, is worth its weight in gold. Century no. 100 will happen. Until then, ‘hum intezaar karenge!’

A Look Back, As We Look Ahead

I spent a few hours watching the documentary series called ‘The Story of India’, by PBS. Those hours were worth it, because it was good to really reiterate what we already know, but mostly gleam upon – the rich history of India through the ages, the sinusoidal path that the country’s fortunes have followed through the millennia, the meaning and origins of what pervades life in India today. We often lack the ability to maintain a perspective beyond the short term. It is easy to see India as a growing democracy, book-ended by thriving IT sectors and Bollywood; a narrow minded view of the burgeoning global middle class. But people and places don’t just come about in a day. There is a long tail of events that leads to an explanation of who we are and why we are the way we are. How often do you think of the modern secular democracy as being based on the principles that Asoka espoused or the influence that India has had on the food in the Roman empire, and in turn, modern Italy? Where do the scientific prowess of the ancients fit in and how do we factor the influence that western invasions wield on our self-confidence as a nation?


The documentary itself is as comprehensive as can be made when trying to describe a five thousand year history in six hours. It is over-romanticized at times and it is often amusing to see a westerner romanticize it thus. But I’ll take it - I’ll take his waxing over Chandragupta Maurya and Madurai, his gloating on the greatness of India’s past and relevance in the world. As India strives to seek its place at the top in this modern world, it is good to know where we came from and what really makes up our DNA. Our surge towards modernity and progress is simply building upon our rich foundations.

Yaksha Prashna

My poem, published in this month's issue of the literary magazine Spark. Their theme for their month was wealth/money. My work is inspired from an old tale from the Mahabharata.

Read on: http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2393

The Poet

He sits with his
blue thumb
pressed to his forehead.

Those smudges of ink
are residue
from the act of creation.

Like dried clay
in a sculptor’s hand
once the wheel has stopped spinning.

Non-Resident India

My article, published in the August issue of the Spark Magazine. Their theme for this month was 'India Decoded'. I took it upon myself to decode the India that I am currently residing in - the non-resident one! Read on.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2151

The Seven Year Glitch

This space celebrates its seventh birthday today. Sometimes, little endeavors can surprise you in big ways with their longevity.

My tiny yet loyal group of readers; those who choose to be silent and those who let me know what they feel - thanks for sticking by! Onwards then!

The Witnesses

My poem, published in the July edition of the magazine Spark. Their theme for the month was weddings. I have tried to bring forth a slightly different perspective on the topic. Read on.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=1987

Spellbound

Your words remain
Well-spent at
Twenty rupees a letter

Shining on the board
In an unknown font
By an unknown artist

Don't blame the painter
He doesn't know enough
To know what is lost
In the games letters play

Don’t fret, we’ll understand
We are used to the quirks
As your shop proudly proclaims
‘India is Grate’