Virile

Here It Goes

It can't get bigger than this. The much-anticipated mega-event that everyone (at least I) had been waiting for so long has finally arrived. ICC World Cup 2007. Right from my childhood, I have dreamt of watching India win the cricket world cup. People from the generation that precedes me don't tire telling me stories of how they went out beating dhols on the streets when India, unexpectedly of course, won 1983 Prudential World Cup; how a proud Kapil Dev whole-heartedly accepted the trophy on the famous balcony of Lord’s; how he and his teammates went around Delhi with the charming silver trophy; how Mrs. Indira Gandhi congratulated him for the grand success. And I don’t tire listening to them either. But there is a subtle sense of jealousy. I always feel jealous when they tell me those lusty episodes, for I have always wished to see all those events repeating themselves in our era. It was such a pleasure to watch that Prudential World Cup when I visited the Lord’s museum a couple of years ago. I can’t imagine the high spirits all around India if this present team manages to pull out a victory on April 28, 2007. Words of a person who is truly in love with the Indian cricket team.

History, as they say, repeats itself and I desire to see this saying coming true this year. Since that golden month of July 1983, India has come close to winning this event on more than one occasion—1987 semifinal and then 1996 semifinal. But none so closer than the grand finale of 2003 edition. Faces in the team have changed but desire has inevitably remained the same. Come on India. Give all of us a chance to beat dhols on the streets on India. Trust me, this generation of cricket lovers will pray in front of your idols for a long, long time. You guys are, of course, not Gods but you will be treated like nothing lesser than Gods in India.

Though I am an avid Indian cricket team fan, I would like the games of this WC to be tantalizingly poised rather than being one-sided. There is much more sense of elation when a whole team competes against another team to win a close match. Blazes of individual brilliance, most of the times, don’t manage to create such illustrious effect. 2003 WC was a spoilsport in this respect. Even that Indo-Pak encounter in Centurion Park resulted in a one-sided affair, thanks to some extraordinary effort by Tendulkar. That is why, unlike most Indians, I rate 1999 WC matches much higher than those of 2003 WC. One can recall that Australia-South Africa semifinal as an example to understand what I mean.

On a serious note, irrespective of which team wins the trophy, Cricket should be the ultimate winner. And may the best team win. Everything else is secondary.

Playing With Faces

As crowd becomes dizzy, city dips into murk
Though flesh gets lazy, my head jumps to work
With hush in abundance, tranquility tickles the mind
I wish this brutal cosmos were always so kind

The faces I see daily are so misleading
I never know if they are euphoric or bleeding
Faces are often not as obvious as they look
They own the shrewdness of an agile crook

Those faces stare mine and give different name
Alas, alas, they sound anything but the same
They call me a terror, they call me a saint
Perhaps I am everything, everything I ain't

I often see my face in that old dusty mirror
As a desperate attempt to make myself clearer
As always, I lose in this age old game
But one day, I will gift myself a name

The pigeons outside are seizing peace
The golden rays are about to fleece
We'll try reading those faces again
Without ignoring that tinge of feign

The Other Side

When the first yellow rays hit her face
Dew gave grass the final embrace
Woke she up in the usual space
Without anticipating any fresh race

Leaning casually at small windowpane
Looked at the street she again and again
Passed a man during thin morning rain
Their eyes met daily and lips smiled then

Moved he ahead, her curious eyes gazed him
Until he reached horizon's brim
She wished to go out, relish and scream
She envied his freedom in restless dream

Walked he hopelessly towards the town
His tired feet gradually slowing down
Who the woman was having eyes dark brown
Thought he daily with head always drown

Reckoned she herself a bird in prison
His smile lent her a hope, a reason
With a desire to taste the changing season
She abandoned her haven like a wild pigeon

The sun was warm, she found it sweet
Ran she through the field of wheat
The air she touched was fresh and neat
Believed she was in a company elite

Sneaked into her abode, he saw luxury a lot
An abundance of fortune he always sought
Proud he felt as he handled a golden pot
There was more than what he had ever thought


The sun began beating, it was all heat
She was brought down on her feeble feet
The sun went down, gloom showed its ugly teeth
Gold lost its hue, seemed like an iron cleat

Amid her cosmos, her throat went dry
She couldn't find her any ally
Having had his fortune, got nothing to try
Girdled by golden hue, he sought to vie

On the doorsteps they did collide
There was nothing to show, nothing to hide
Realized they something and then they cried
The grass is not greener on the other side

Futile Steps

Mute I grew, sensed I few
It was only a picture that I knew
Slowly and calmly I carried my soul
From a distance, I looked at my goal

Bare-chested I faced the morning cold
I am the one who was not to be sold
I recognized not the direction of wind
I was ever at the start, ever at the end

The fog came riding on the season
Just for its sake, hardly a reason
Shrouded it me like the darkness of night
I was brutally blinded amidst a fight

The fog grew old and so did I
With closed eyes I learned to fly
Waving my huge wings, the fog I fought
Beaten the nature, I proudly thought

Roared I loud, faster I flew
Aim was left behind, hardly I knew
There was no coming back, I realized late
Was it pride or was it the fate?

The goal looked tiny from the distance
Smiled I little with no resistance
A moth flew over my dead open mouth
I knew today sun will sink into the south

Run Afoul

"These people in AIIMS are doing a commendable job. Their inspiring protest will certainly lead to some very fruitful results," an IITian spoke to his mate with his eyes fixed on the newspaper headlines. "Yes, they are. Why don't we carry out a similar protest? We should also raise our voice. Our voice must be heard. What say?' replied the other guy. "Indeed!"

Two months later, a student-faculty body spread leaflets all over IITD—in every hostel, in insti, on streets of IIT—everywhere. Students along with faculty members were asked if they protested reservation. The students who protested reservations were asked to write their names and entry numbers on papers distributed by the committee especially for this purpose. Overwhelming statistics of the surveillance was printed and distributed in IIT. Around 98% of students and 92% of faculty members protested reservations. Meanwhile, a date was fixed and students who protested this reservation policy in writing were asked to be a part of a peaceful rally to express their disagreement over it. Even the faculty members of different departments were asked to join this act. The organizers of this protest rally looked more than satisfied with the proceedings.

On the D-day--not very surprisingly--only a handful of students turned up. The number of faculty members present there huffed and puffed to go past the mark of a dozen. This handful of students and faculty members hopped to the doorsteps of each and every hostel to urge people inside to come out and be a part of it. But who can alter the ideas of those who always have some more important work to do? Most students ignored the cause citing one reason or the other. Some of the guys had to show their faces to their parents who can't live without seeing their wards every weekend, some of them had to rest their eyes laden with enormous amount of sleep, some of them had to write mock CAT papers while some had to prepare for PIs and GDs. The interesting part is that majority of the guys preparing for GDs must have debated over pros and cons of reservation and proposed peaceful protest as one of the steps against this policy. An irony!

But the most widely-used justification—if at all given--for the absence was—"Yaar, in sab se kuchh hota hai kya? Kuch nahin hone wala protest se. Aaj tak kuchh hua hai kya?" These kinds of explanations—-that are miles away from justifications--can leave anyone speechless. "But mate, no matter what the result is, we can always be satiated that we played our part against something we believe is not correct." "To hell with satisfaction!" No further comments, My Lord.

Next day, NDTV reports that a mob of around 600 IIT students and more than 100 IIT faculty members brought out a grand, avid protest against reservation policy. A reporter interviews a faculty member for a couple of minutes. The Times of India also produces similar huge statistics. People all over read that IIT eventually has started showing the power of its big student and faculty community.

"I didn't know that while I was sleeping yesterday morning, so many students and faculty members measured the length of streets in Delhi ," said someone in the reading room of Vindy after reading the article in The Times of India . "How much did they actually measure," asked his mate. Their giggles saturated the environment.

IIT continues to live up to the expectations of the outer world; and IITians to those of the inner world!! Nevertheless, they co-exist with harmony—-dubious harmony, though.

Ashley Giles

Ashley Giles, poor Ashley Giles!!!

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