Snapshot

Listening to : Echo by Incubus
Practising: (or rather trying) Malaguenas Salerosas
Addicted to: scouring the internet for video highlights of the T20.

Return to Innocence

Shahid Afridi had a pretty bad day today, and, at the presentation of the consolation prize of Man of the Series, I expected this would reflect. So, when Shahid went up to collect his award and congratulated the Indian nations, I sort of shared his feeling. Somewhere in a lonely wigwam, Mighty Wolf would have squinted into the cathode tube and felt proud seeing the modern Indian braves returning to tricolored warpaint and howling encouragement to the warriors. If only the Chief had a feather in his long hair, Mighty Wolf would have given him his daughter and his father's tomahawk.

Eye of the storm

Rarely does a person get high without using alcohol or the such. Fast guitars, fast cars, hitting sixes and getting examination results apart, I have found it hard to manage it. And suddenly, in one day, it strikes twice.

The first lava-lamp hallucination was between Mark Knofler's exquisite guitar solo and Stevie Ray Vaughn's House is Rockin' on my way back home. I must admit this was partly because of hunger. But what the hell. A high is a high. And the second was towards the final moments as Misbah was lofting Bajji. Rather I should say 'is'. What a match. I do rather feel bad about Misbah missing the last one. That guy thrashed India to within inches of its life twice. And India winning without its veterans was a brilliant outcome, perhaps the rejuvenation that international cricket needs now - a release from the glorious past - of ODIs and scandals and war heroes in fading armor.

But even at this point, in the middle of this euphoria, I feel that one veteran will still need to play a huge role for the next three years. Dravid is needed. The Master has come, inspired a billion Indians and left them proud of a legacy no one will surpass. Along with Sehwag and Ganguly, He has had His day and, as a guy who plays, lives and quits by His own terms, He must be relieved, looking forward to a long vacation in Khandala or Bermuda. But despite the talented Uthappa and Gambhir competing for the spot, there doesn't seem to be any one who can replace Dravid, not only for laying foundations on which other batsmen can prosper, but for the overall mental stability and freedom he brings to the team as an overall anchor through the game. Dravid is needed, if only for the reason that he needs to choose that one in a billion who can be a worthy successor.

Snapshot

Listening to: The Reason (Hoobastank)
Addicted to : Ted
Learning : Breakaway (acoustic) by Kelly Clarkson

Observation of the day

If I fall on a table, I get hurt.
If a table falls on me, I get hurt.
Life's unfair

Personality goes a long way

This is just a first draft ... I didn't know how to end this thing, so I ended up making the goat a Pulp fiction dialog spouter... Anyone got better ideas?

The General Who Lived

(click to see the big picture)

Sport for terrorism

Ref BBC

To quote,

In (a) curious twist, some leaders of the sports-unfriendly Taleban ended up loving the game. So much so that Mullah Rabbani, one of its leaders, actually lobbied for the game's recognition by the Asian council.

In all fair game, why don't we invite our friendly neighborhood terrorists for a pitch sometimes? I bet those to-be-suicide-bombers would know the basics of rugby, lugging packages, dodging and feinting security tackles. Their life (or rather lack of) depends on it.

I bet cricket comes naturally to them. It can be played in your own style - nice and relaxed or fast and furious. It needs nothing except a ball, a long flat log and a mark on a tree trunk or a wall. They've been stoning the devil every Ramadan for quite some time now. Strategy is simple. Hit the ball where there ain't anyone. Put the people where the ball is being hit.

The rebel gets a cause, the cause doesn't hurt us and we get to know each other.

I know... you're welcome...

Chinglish

Ever heard of a blood-condensed friendship pavilion? Or smallpox facial cream(link)?

On another entirely different note, Jamaican sounds eerily similar to Singlish ... adding a mon here, taking out a lah there... See Brad Pitt's mangled up verbosity in Meet Joe Black if you don't believe me.