It was a brief look at the mirror.. the fleeting glances at yourself that u so want to avoid.. those which u never wish u had to do as a 20 year old.. but u do come across situations when u have to “reflect” on urself.. this occasion, it was part of my routine before the dash to the lecture complex..





and there it was.. glaring and so obvious that u cudn miss it.. my month old beard was showin up pretty badly.. for 30 happy days I had put off the ritual of placing a razor on my cheeks and following it up with ten minutes of madness as it flew across the face at angles they never mentioned in geometry class and at speeds which will give light a complex.. the whole job had to be done quick, real quick.. the longer it drags the more painful it is..





they warn u at home… the first time u r so raring to go and take out every minuscule bit of hair u find on ur face they told u.. that all this will seem very exciting the first time but as time progresses u will grow to hate every moment of this practice.. ah.. how true were these words..





back then in ur age of innocence u never had to worry about such things.. life was so peaceful.. no worries about beards which irritated every ounce of flesh on your face.. but then there do come the times when u r very proud of it.. when u shape it ur delight.. the long side burns.. the goatee.. the french beard (though for me it was a disaster first time around and from then on its been a strict no no ) .. the best part always came a couple of days after you had wrenched out the beard.. the little sproutin called the stubble made u feel so good.. it gave you fresh hope.. that even beards can make you feel good…





but then the tragedy with beards occurs when you let them grow on you for too long.. initially u feel so good about it that the very thought of shaving makes u shudder.. and then follows a period of time when u let it grow, for u deem no harm can arise out of it.. this turns out to be the mistake.. for once u let it go past this period, it gets to ur nerves.. through the skin of ur face..



irritation sets in.. u think u r so much better off without it.. but by then it has become so much a part of you that u do not have the heart to remove it.. this is the time when the mistake magnifies into a blunder..





after all, not for nothin did our ancestors always maintain anything evil (in this case read: not good) should be weeded out.. not allowed to go past that stage.. once again pearls of wisdom ignored..





and as it happened to me today, there arises a new found vigor to shave.. to throw caution to the wind and go for the kill.. new found energy means a rush of blood in your hands.. and this translates into a rush of blood again, but only this time from a cut on the face.. a mark which no man likes to leave, for it shows complete lack of ability in what shud be deemed as each man’s core competency.. most of the times the impression that the cut makes vanishes pretty quickly and this is usually followed by a big sigh of relief.. u’ll be lucky if people do not notice either the cut mark or the sigh which follows a tad later..





but sometimes it leaves a scar.. each time u look at it, u repent the times when u could so easily have shaved it off but chose not to.. when the scar starts to hurt, u wish u never let the beard grow in the first place..





After today, I have 2 of those….

There are times, you wish there never was..

when the cocoons in your stomach,

decide its time for freedom and fly out..

your mind has a mind of its own..

the fingers seem to find a new rythm.,

as they move about with a new found sense of (un)purpose

and legs dance to a tune that you never thought existed,

but through all this the heart keeps beating,

as though nothing else was happening

how you wish you could afford to be like that..

My connection with Boxing Day started 21 years ago to this date. Since God didn’t deem me fit enough to be a Christmas present to the world, he chose the next best day or should I say the next day, to send me in. But as much as it adds significance to the day from a very personal point of view my looking forward to the 26th of December has been due a whole different reason altogether. And its pretty much the same reason why I get up at 5 every boxing day. Those religiously oriented might assume that it’s because of my sense of duty towards God and my eagerness to offer my prayers and thanks to Him. Close, my ritual is intended to pay my obeisance to the demi-gods on the cricket field. As the years have gone by, the Boxing Day tests have become occasions to celebrate the spirit of cricket. The overflowing crowds (and beer cans), their tremendous spirit and many memorable performances have gone a long way in making the occasion even grander.



Apparently the year I was born England trounced Australia by an innings and more. But guess that was just my amateurs luck rubbing on to the English team, for since then as much as millions of Brits would have wanted to see it happen again England have only been at the receiving end of such thrashings. Or as they say in many Tamizh films, “inime adhu nadakannumna oruthan porandu daan varanum“. I have done my bit and now look forward to someone else sharing that burden.



The memories of the cold morning of 1999 when India were facing the heat down under while I was praying feverishly at the local temple, more for my sake than the Indian teams I should admit. It was also the debut of Brett Lee who ensured, at that point of time that is, that Rahul Dravid’s worst record was in Australia and also as a side job just about end Sadagapon Ramesh’s test career with a brutal bouncer. One more heart break was due 4 years later when despite a Sehwag blitzkrieg on Boxing Day India managed to perform to perfection the art of losing test matches away from home despite a brilliant start (Sehwag himself has “starred” in two of these defeats, the other one being on debut against South Africa). The tales of the other teams to tour recently are no different and India can look to take heart from the dismal performances of the others in recent times.



As they often say past is past and a new beginning is what was made today under the guiding light of the “Grand Old Warrior (man is too small a term to be used to describe him)” of Indian cricket, Anil Kumble. To say the least he made my day today. It was sheer delight watching him operate today and his celebration which followed each of wickets was similar to that of a rookie earning his first Test wicket. And looking at his celebrations I just couldn’t help wonder whether the number next to the age column was just that, a mere number. It is with these thoughts that I look forward to what the future holds for me rather than look back at the 21 years behind me.

Talks are also on between Australian players and CSI over whether or not the averages should be calculated keeping in mind the umpiring blunders. Australian players are claiming that these things should affect the averages because they believe these things will even out over a player’s career span and in the case that certain people and teams are lucky enough to have things in their favor its not their fault, as such things do happen in the game of cricket.



Ricky Ponting is quoted as saying “Listen mate.. We got 10 lucky breaks in this match and if you look back at all the matches we have played over the last decade I am pretty sure it all evens out. You need to play cricket in the Right(ya, with a capital R) spirit mate”. However he did not elaborate on what he meant by right spirit and whether standing your ground after gliding the ball into the wicket keeper’s gloves and claiming a catch after having rested in briefly on Mother Earth (as if she didn’t have enough burden already) would qualify as Right spirit. And also maybe crying foul when an opponent utters a word or two of aggression towards them when you’ve been doing this for years now. After all the game needs some cleaning up and racism will not be tolerated. Andrew Symonds in addition to being a good batsman, a decent bowler and a great fielder also seems to be in the team in his capacity to draw racist remarks from the opposition. So next time you say anything to the Australians, make sure you are facing away from Symonds lest they use it to their advantage.



Also, he claims, you get back what you give. The Aussies take good care of the neutral umpires when they visit down under and its only natural that they look to reciprocate such warm hospitality. Maybe BCCI, the richest board in the world, would do well to take note of this fact and treat the umpires well and bother about the players later. After all once the umpires make up their mind it doesn’t matter whether the player is good or not or whether its out or not. All they have to do is show their finger at the right moments. As far as the Indian team is concerned they’ll be justified in feeling they are at the recieving end of the wrong finger at the moment.

Following the post-mortem of the second Test match between India and Australia at the Sydney Cricket Ground the Cricket Statisticians Inc. (CSI) have decided to ring in a few changes to the scorecard. Now instead of just reading out team scores like 209 for 4, we’ll be reading out individual scores in that manner. For instance Symonds‘ innings will go down in record books as 162 for 3, Hussey’s as 145 for 2, Tendulkar 154 for one and Ponting 55 for one. This they say is necessary as they think this will be more revealing about the standards of umpiring in the match and would help in making sure the umpires involved are forced to take this to their graves. However, CSI has decided against it having any effects on averages as they feel this will be unfair on the modern day batsmen as the olden generations are likely to go unaffected due to lack of necessary documentation to apply the new rules to them. However, CSI has said that talks are on to try and fit in an additional column “Wickets Denied” to give some of the due credit to the aggrieved bowlers. Also on the anvil is the possibilty of using half an asterix to indicate when a batsman has been ruled out unfairly.



Another report coming in is about how the best of pals in the Indian team and partners in many run chases seem to be not in talking terms after altercations over who would partner Deepika Padukone. Of late both of them don’t seem as chirpy on the cricket field seeming to indicate that they would rather focus their energies on settling this off field issue. It has taken on such draconic proportions that both Yuvraj and Dhoni, keen to spend as much time with Deepika are ensuring they don’t stay on the crease for too long and give the least bit of advantage to the other. One only hopes that with Indian batting struggling Deepika tells them she’ll prefer the one who performs better on the field. That would be the perfect script for the revival of their batting form.

Moreover, considering that the “angel” was at that point in time inside the manger’s room was a positive as far as PLC was considered. Suddenly he felt in a manner unlike any other he had experienced thus far. Was this what they called “Love”? Will this mean that he would soon one among the many who called up on the dial in shows of music channels daily, to either boast of their relationship or try and put forth the problems in their relationship to a couple of people who didn’t look like psychologists but did a fairly decent job or convincing the world they are indeed love experts, if indeed there existed any. Quickly banishing these rather disturbing thoughts he knocked on the manager’s door half expecting him to ask him to hang on outside for a while and also hear stifled laughs and giggles from inside.



Distracted by this totally new line of thought that his mind was taking, PLC missed the first time that the manager asked him to come in and it was only when a slightly agitated manager called out to him loud the next time did he look up with a jerk and the fashion of his entry into the room did absolutely nothing to instill any confidence in him. Sheepishly grinning and eyes scanning the room to catch sight of his lady love ( yes, by now at least he had made up his mind about what he thought of her. Her impression of him be damned, at least for now) he made quite a sight and very fortunately for him the manager decided to put it down to the normal bouts of nervousness that any new comer faces on the first day of office. With a pleasant smile on his face the manager made sure that PLC was feeling comfortable and the by now settled look on PLC face seemed to convince him that he had made the correct impact on the young man. Little did he know that the look on PLC’s face was more due to his success in catching the attention of the other inhabitant of the room. By now PLC had decided that she would be the guardian angel in his life and would do quite a good job at it (and it is this impression of her on PLC’s mind which helps establish her name as Guardian Angel Par Excellence or GAPE in short). His focus was more on how to make a good first impression on her rather than the manager and in this moment PLC represents many of the ordinary people who tend to get their object of focus wrong at critical moments. So while the manager was discussing details of his training, PLC was busy training his eyes to follow every little movement of GAPE.



All of a sudden and with a jerk similar to the one at the door PLC realized that he had missed out on a considerable part of his manager’s discourse so far. And just as he was starting to get involved in the conversation the manager decided to wrap things up and asked PLC to make a move on and get himself acquainted with the others in the office room and especially TIC who would be his mentor during his early days at work. Considering that PLC was just taking his baby steps in the organization, he decided he could do with a close friend or two to guide him through this phase. Having no one he knew earlier working here, he was forced to go through the whole process of working towards a close friendship again. Desperate as he was to quicken the process ,he hit on the strategy that had seemingly worked so wonderfully for him earlier. He had always noticed that the more you reveal about yourself and your little secrets to someone the more they seemed to draw closer to you. Deciding that he knew enough of TIC (and more than enough of CCW) for him to begin a close relationship with him. He decided to fast track the process by letting TIC into the details of the happenings in the manger’s cabin, seek help in figuring out what the manger could have told him and profess his liking for GAPE. The point that PLC missed was that while it’s all well and good revealing your little crushes to someone whom you have known for a while and have built up quite a bit of trust with, it’s dangerous to do the same with someone whom you barely know.

Preceded by whiff of fresh air, and followed by a stale smell resulting from an unwashed box of Thayir Sadam he had packed for lunch two days back Poor Little Chap (who shall henceforth be referred to as PLC) entered the office with a new found determination. He decided that he had had enough of being bullied around and taunted by almost everybody in the office. He had his group of his friends or so he wished. For he knew as well as they did that it was just a marriage of convenience.



The events of his first day at office was still so fresh in his mind. He had so looked forward to that day. The day he thought would change his life forever. He believed that this was destined to be the turning point in his life, a day which would start off the process of erasing all the forgettable memories he had accumulated through his rather “eventful” school and college life. The very thought of making new friends and acquaintances thrilled him. The first person he met was the guy who would later become his Tormentor-in-Chief ( and who will henceforth be called TIC) . Ah! There seemed to be such a natural bond. It was fate, he opined, that had delayed the introduction of such a character in his life. But, its better late than never. With all such thoughts randomly criss-crossing his mind he walked up cheerfully to TIC and what ensued was the typical first meeting. Handshakes and introductions later they were happily chatting about their respective pasts and how lucky they were to have managed a job in this company.



It was 830 in and the others started to trickle in to the office. Monday morning blues had suddenly seemed out of fashion for all around he could see so many cheerful faces. The previous night had played host to one of the most memorable moments in Indian sport. The first Olympic Gold from an independent event had finally arrived. And the fact that it came in wrestling, that oldest of Indian sports was a surprise and yet not as much a jolt as maybe if it had arrived in tennis, the latest fad amongst the dominant middle class. Not since Bhim had an Indian wrestled with so much energy and vigor, they exclaimed. One thing that never changes with us Indians is the hype which we manage to add to any notable achievement. He would get a reception that would rival that which the Indian cricket team got after they had won the T20 World Cup, beamed a television channel. A rival news channel quoted a “confidential yet reliable” source in stating that the Indian government would present a cheque of ten crores to the champion. An individual olympic gold medal is no mean achievement, but at some point we need to understand that a little bit of understated celebration would add much more value to a victory rather than frenzied reactions of euphoria.





PLC took one more look at the entrance hoping that his first day at the office would, cinema style, would also be the day when he would meet his lady love. Unfortunately in the harsh realities of the modern day world such fairy tale inspired thoughts do not bear fruit and it was with a concealed sense of disappointed that PLC trudged to his cubicle. Newly furnished and spacious to comfortably seat one person, a luxury in these times of cramped office spaces, his cubicle seemed to welcome him into a totally new world. He glanced at his watch, for maybe the 15th time in 5 minutes. Impatience was creeping in. He had to meet his boss, a unknown quantity to even those who had spent months with him in the office and to him he would remain an enigma, forever, at 9.



As he started to count each second down, his eyes fell on a guy who was glancing at him form time to time. Curiosity had gotten the better of him and it didn’t seem likely to leave him anytime soon either. Desperate as PLC was to fast forward the ten minutes to his meeting, he decided to go up and speak to this curious co-worker(and as per tradition already established, this new character will also be henceforth be referred to by a shortened name reflecting his nature, CCW) of his.



to be continued….

Fighting bouts of nervousness and fits of boredom thanks to the continued drivel of CCW, impatience set in. As each passing second grew painfully and exponentially longer PLC was moved to the verge of taking his frustration out on CCW but given his presumed to be calm nature all he could manage was a shrug. As it so happened, at that particular moment CCW was narrating a rather painful experience of his and taking the shrug to be a display of sympathy from PLC, CCW continued his story with renewed vigor. As the tempo in CCW’s narrative picked up PLC’s shoulder dropped even lower. Yet again this act of PLC’s co-incided with a part of CCW’s story where his morale supposedly hits rock-bottom. If ever there was any law of conservation of Enthusiasm it was very much at play here. With each passing moment for every centimeter that PLC drooped there was a corresponding increase in the baritone levels of CCW.



At moments such as these, fate plays a rather defining role and this case was no different. With 5 minutes till left to go for his first meeting and apparently no escape from CCW, PLC was fast reaching his breaking point when in walked like (in the words of PLC) an angel who was the most beautiful thing God created on Earth. With his lips split apart wide enough for a Hot Wheels car to comfortably move in and park, PLC’s eyes followed the new entrant all the way into the Manager’s chamber. At this sight if the laws of biophysics had permitted his mouth would have split open even wider. However already having reached the elastic limits an attempt to open it further caused much hurt and with the realization that he was possibly already making a fool of himself he closed it shut like a Venus fly-trap going after its meal for the morning.



For all of CCW’s involvement in the narration of his life story he couldn help but notice the change in PLC’s stance. Being slightly dimwitted he was a little dumb founded as to how a guy who had shown such sympathy for some of his lesser sufferings seem so visibly excited on hearing about what he thought was the lowest moment of his life. And now for the first time PLC (or the second if you count the initial greetings) started to involve himself on the conversation. Impose would be a better word for over the next few minutes question after question was thrown to CCW about the manger. The answer to the first had revealed to PLC that the female who passed through was not the boss and this was followed by a huge sigh of relief for trying to go after a beautiful lady was one thing but going after the boss would have been pure sacrilege. Besides, chatting up with females was uncharted territory for PLC and he was no Columbus either. The next few questions directed to CCW were intended to figure who exactly this mystery female was. CCW being of the talkative nature, as established, however chose to launch into a totally not required tirade of words to start every answer. Time was running out for PLC.



As much as PLC had spent five minutes hoping to see his boss turn up and relieve him from the excruciating lectures from CCW, the sight of his fellow employees rising one by one to greet a tall, fairly dark complexioned, well dressed young man pained him now. It was pretty obvious that this young man was the manager and it was only left for CCW to confirm this fact by uttering the word “boss” twice in a hushed tone like a 5th standard student fearing a hiding should he get caught talking. Caught between his desire to continue interrogating CCW and the requirement to immediately rush into the manager’s room, the choice though difficult was an obvious one for PLC to make. He trudged file in hand, into the room.

Rs 4.50 . The cost of the ticket from college to Chattram (supposedly the most happening place in Trichy). Its the worst time to travel in the city, Saturday evening. The traffic (yes Trichy isn’t immune to it) is painful. The number of people in the bus can be calculated as total volume available/average volume of space occupied by a person +25 . The constant is to account for children who occupy lesser volumes, though there are men and women who more than make up for it and the 20 odd people who are footboarding at any point of time. By all means one would expect the mood in the bus to reflect irritation and uneasiness, constant bickering to support it and of course lots of cursing in low volumes about the uncle who keeps pushing people and trying to make more room for himself.



Lo and behold! The speakers start to crank up some noise. Slowly the music starts to drift into your ears. Hints of recognition strike the mind. And then the volume goes up and its that “kuthu” song from the super hit movie Dhool. People start drumming on whatever solid mass they can get their hands on. Its a pretty cacophonous atmosphere but then you can not help getting into the groove. Slowly and reluctantly your hands move towards the back of the seat in front of you and in a few moments you are totally in it. The song comes to an end and you wait impatiently for the next one to start. With these guys you never know the kind of collection. They can enthrall you with some of the best songs of all time or just squander the initiative and play a really arbid number and all the drumming will come to a sudden stop. This time however the theme seems to be the recent “kuthu” hits and everyone’s happy to hum and drum along. No humdrum here though.



Normally one would be hoping for the journey to come an early end, but somehow the mood is so uplifting that you pray for the bus to get into a traffic snarl. However as it so happened the bus driver seemed as charged up as we were and put one heavy feet on the accelerator and appeared never to want to take it off. The destination was reached in double quick time and light years quicker than what i had hoped for.



May the person who thought of the whole idea of songs on buses live long.



P.S In the eventuality that the person is dead, may he enjoy the company of the apsaras in heaven.