Like any Indian youth, I too dream of owning a Bullet. Because of pecuniary pressures I have never managed to fulfill this dream. So it was natural for me to gleefully accept my friends offer of taking care of his Royal Enfield Thunderbird 350 cc while while work took him to the US of A.
The first ride, once the bike was in my custody, was to the Lawrence and Mayo shop to by a classic Rayban glass for Rs 3000. Thundering through the streets of Hyderabad, I felt like Tom Cruise from Top Gun. My condescending looks on the fellow bikers in any traffic signal was testimony to my hubristic attitude.
Even the gods felt jealous and resembling their vengeance the bike developed a snag after two weeks.It would not start. The bike which used to roar in a few kicks would not even moan after dozen kicks. At times the kicker used to hit back, sending up a current of pain through the leg which would run up till the head and escape as a spray of tears from the eyes. At times the kicker used to get recalcitrant and would not move.
I stopped using the bike and waited for the weekend to get it repaired. It was Friday night, me and my friends - Menon, Shek and Nair- were relaxing after a tiring week at work. By 1050 pm we had consumed our stock and were short of supply, with 10 minutes left for the wineshops to close. The thirst for alcohol can do wonders to one. The beefy Nair, overcame his sedentary insticts and with all his might delivered a telling kick on the Thunderbird. The bullet started with a war cry resembling the wail of a kid woken up from deep sleep by a bee prick. In the process Nair hurt his knee and could not drive the bike. Me and Shek volunteered to go and get the beer. The plan was that, I will remain seated on the idling bike while Shek will get the beer from the shop. The bike will be turned off only after reaching home.
Our plan worked well. We reached the shop, got the beer, and were on our way back home. My pride of driving a Bullet again rose as Shek told me that there is no comparable for a ride on Bullet. I asked Shek whether he ever had driven a Bullet. "No" came his answer. I thought fate was cruel by denying a well built and intelligent guy like Shek the pleasures of manoeuvring a Bullet.
The following sequence happened with practiced perfection. I braked, dismounted from the bike, with the clutch disengaged asked Shek to take the rider's seat, I took the black plastic cover with 6 beer bottles, Shek seated himself and held on to the clutch lever, I took the pillion seat. We were ready to go. Shek put the bike on gear, slowly released the clutch.
With a loud shriek and a jump the bike came to a halt.
We were still a mile away from my home. Realization also dawned that in the hurry to get to the wine shop we had not changed our clothes. Shek was wearing a self-cut-shorts with both legs of differing lengths, made from a worn out jeans, and threads running from its bottom. I was much better dressed in a slipper and a green and yellow designer lungi, called in Mallu parlance as "Kaili".
I got out of the bike, stood by the side of the road carrying the precious cover and let the body-builder Shek, to start the bike. Shek had a smirk on his face as he prepared to imitate Nair's act at home. He could not be blamed if he felt confident, as he has spent daily two hours in the gym for the past 5 years. Even I was brimming with hope as I saw Shek holding the bike by the handle rose in the air with a folded leg to kickstart the bike. He looked like a warrior about to crush his opponent under his feet. He landed on the kicker and what happened was unexpected. Like a pole vault athlete bouncing off the mat after the jump, Shek bounced of the kicker, which did not budge an inch. The smirk on Shek's face gave way to an emotional facial display of despair and embarrassment. An enraged Shek let loose a flurry of kicks on the pedal. It was just like pushing a concrete wall.
After this fruitless and tiring exercise, a red-faced, gasping Shek dismounted the bike and declared "thoda mushkil hai". With great wisdom I denied Shek's offer to lodge a few kicks myself and suggested that we push the bike home. It is not a mean task to push a 250kg machine, a mile's distance. Nevertheless we had no choice.
The ordeal started. As one of us had to carry the precious black cover, the bike had to be pushed alone by the other. In our attire we would have looked like village theives making a run with a bullet. It took good 20 mins of humongous effort to get the bike and beer home. We were tired and profusely sweating by the time we reached home. We walked in, kept the beer in front of Menon, only to hear him say "Oh no, this has lost its chill".
Friday, July 23, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Train from Kanpur
Tring..tring..tring.. Train No 2559, Shivganga Express, travelling from Gaya to Delhi will shortly leave from Platform No.1. The announcement rippled through the Kanpur station as the train started moving. We - Myself and Singh - were aboard the train and had freed our respective berths from those "still-waiting-list-not-RAC" passengers. Using the back pack as pillow I lied on my allotted middle berth. Probably the curse of the passengers occupying the lower berth, the occupant of the upper berth started snoring delaying my tired physique the due sleep it deserves. The scheduled arrival time at Delhi was 0730 in the morning. I woke up at 0700 in the morning only to find out that the train had been delayed and that it would reach New Delhi only at 1200 noon. The irony was that the train passed our eventual destination Ghaziabad on its way to Delhi. Just like more work being the reward for good work; the punishment for any late running train is to delay it further. The treacherous travel had become a terribly prolonged torture as the train was stopping and giving way to even local trains. The train was slowing down for one another such stoppage when there was a sudden, unwarranted exodus of people from it. I was wondering as to what was happening when my co-passenger Singh, collected his luggage and rushed to the exit shouting " Oye, jaldi jaldi.. Ghaziabad outer .. Ghaziabad outer ". By the time I collected my baggage and rushed to the exit, the train had gathered speed and Singh stood there in a haughty mood with an expression that conveyed "I am marooned on this island and u made me miss the rescue boat". I wanted to tell him "Dude, I am new to all this. We will get down in Delhi and come back to Ghaziabad. I am sorry". Probably God understood my helplessness and resembling providential intervention, the train slowed again. This was my chance to redeem myself. A God given opportunity. I was pumped up to the extent that I decided to alight from the slow running train ahead of Singh. I reached the door and before I could plan and alight in an organized manner, Singh shouted "Jump"; and I jumped. With the backpack strrapped onto my shoulders I would have looked like a sky diver with a folded parachute on his back jumping from an airplane. I landed on the railway track adjacent to the one on which our train was running. The style, body posture and the impact would have made me look like a wrestler throwing his body weight from atop ropes on a ring on a helpless opponent on the floor. In my case I had 2 opponents - the two railings of the track. I hit one of them with my right knee and the other with my left temple. After a few rolls on the ground to gain balance, I braved the severe pain on my knee to stand on my legs. I was happy that the knee cap had not broken. I looked up and saw with my two eyes that sight which can set to tears even the bravest of warriors. The Siva Ganga Express had stopped and Singh was getting down the train stairs, calm and composed, with great attention to each of his steps. In great shame, despair and gloom I touched my forehead only to feel the gooseberry sized swelling around my left temple.
Moral: Never alight from a running train. Every running train is destined to halt so that passengers can get down without undue acrobatics.
Moral: Never alight from a running train. Every running train is destined to halt so that passengers can get down without undue acrobatics.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The bee which almost killed an elephant
Kerala is known for its temples and their annual festivals. All the temples in a particular locality will have their festivals scheduled at almost the same time resulting in an annual festival season. It is the healthy competition among the temples to outperform each other in festivities that results in those grand extravaganzas. No festival is complete without caparisoned elephants and the raging panchavadya. "Make hay while the sun shines" - the sun does shine on pachyderm owners during the festival season. Bigger the pachyderm one owns, higher the demand for you. During the season, elephants are either transported in a lorry or they walk from one temple to another.
Mahadevan, the elephant owned by Pillachettan was pretty much busy in the festival season of 1993. He was a pretty big tusker and was renowned for his looks. His mahout was Kumaran. They made a good team as Mahadevan would carry a drunk Kumaran safely on his back when they are travelling and in return Kumaran would give Mahadevan extra ration of his favourite food, jaggery.
On one such travel, they started pretty late in the day and decided to walk through the night. Our hero, Achayan, a Physics teacher in an English medium school was in his early 30s and was a proud owner of a Java bike - 1981 model. He was an expert when it came to bikes and he used to adjust the "flute" of the silencer to ensure that his bike delivered musical, loud and rhythmic thuds.His Java-1981 model was envied for its sound. Achayan like a stereotype Malayali was an occasional drinker who managed an occasion every evening. On that eventful night Achayan was at the club, played rummy, had brandy & beef and was on his way home. It was around 11 in the night and the omnipresent silence was broken by those loud thuds the Java made - Dhud.. Dhud.. Dhud..
Achayan was comfortably doing 50kmph. The cool breeze blowing on his face complemented with the balmy brandy in his veins had rendered him in a state where his reflexes were a bit slow, eyes half shut and his mind a shade drowsy. Little did Achayan know about Mahadevan, dreaming about his next ration of jaggery, walking ahead of him. Though Kumaran promptly corked his toddy bottle, he forgot to attach the red, circular cycle reflector to that rear position of Mahadevan's thigh which would have been referred to as "bum" had Mahadevan been a biped. Mahadevan, the cheerful being that he is, was keeping good pace occupying in full, a lane of the two lane road. The night was quite dark and Achayan cannot be blamed for not spotting Mahadevan despite the dim glow that his Java-1981 model lavishly supplied. Achayan was enjoying his ride, when all of a sudden he collided against Mahadevan's rear.
As Achayan lost control of his bike, poor Mahadevan lost his sphincter control. For Mahadevan, Achayan on the bike resembled a bee trying to find a way up through his bottom. Surprised, shocked and frightened, poor Mahadevan started on an involuntary run. The quick pace at which the events turned out caught Kumaran unawares and culminated in him being thrown off from Mahadevan's back and a yelling Kumaran landed flat on the road with a thud. Mahadevan continued his run and stopped only when he saw a light, which happened to be coming from a vacant petrol bunk. Pappachan, the night shift employee in the bunk, was taking advantage of the lack of customers and was blissfully sleeping. Probably as an expression of reprieve on having survived an attempt on life by a bee, Mahadevan let out a basso trumpet. Few things can be described as more scary than to be woken up by a trumpeting elephant. Unlike Mahadevan who started a run on a similar life attack from a bee, Pappachan fell unconscious, only to be woken up 3 days later in the hospital.
Mahadevan, the elephant owned by Pillachettan was pretty much busy in the festival season of 1993. He was a pretty big tusker and was renowned for his looks. His mahout was Kumaran. They made a good team as Mahadevan would carry a drunk Kumaran safely on his back when they are travelling and in return Kumaran would give Mahadevan extra ration of his favourite food, jaggery.
On one such travel, they started pretty late in the day and decided to walk through the night. Our hero, Achayan, a Physics teacher in an English medium school was in his early 30s and was a proud owner of a Java bike - 1981 model. He was an expert when it came to bikes and he used to adjust the "flute" of the silencer to ensure that his bike delivered musical, loud and rhythmic thuds.His Java-1981 model was envied for its sound. Achayan like a stereotype Malayali was an occasional drinker who managed an occasion every evening. On that eventful night Achayan was at the club, played rummy, had brandy & beef and was on his way home. It was around 11 in the night and the omnipresent silence was broken by those loud thuds the Java made - Dhud.. Dhud.. Dhud..
Achayan was comfortably doing 50kmph. The cool breeze blowing on his face complemented with the balmy brandy in his veins had rendered him in a state where his reflexes were a bit slow, eyes half shut and his mind a shade drowsy. Little did Achayan know about Mahadevan, dreaming about his next ration of jaggery, walking ahead of him. Though Kumaran promptly corked his toddy bottle, he forgot to attach the red, circular cycle reflector to that rear position of Mahadevan's thigh which would have been referred to as "bum" had Mahadevan been a biped. Mahadevan, the cheerful being that he is, was keeping good pace occupying in full, a lane of the two lane road. The night was quite dark and Achayan cannot be blamed for not spotting Mahadevan despite the dim glow that his Java-1981 model lavishly supplied. Achayan was enjoying his ride, when all of a sudden he collided against Mahadevan's rear.
As Achayan lost control of his bike, poor Mahadevan lost his sphincter control. For Mahadevan, Achayan on the bike resembled a bee trying to find a way up through his bottom. Surprised, shocked and frightened, poor Mahadevan started on an involuntary run. The quick pace at which the events turned out caught Kumaran unawares and culminated in him being thrown off from Mahadevan's back and a yelling Kumaran landed flat on the road with a thud. Mahadevan continued his run and stopped only when he saw a light, which happened to be coming from a vacant petrol bunk. Pappachan, the night shift employee in the bunk, was taking advantage of the lack of customers and was blissfully sleeping. Probably as an expression of reprieve on having survived an attempt on life by a bee, Mahadevan let out a basso trumpet. Few things can be described as more scary than to be woken up by a trumpeting elephant. Unlike Mahadevan who started a run on a similar life attack from a bee, Pappachan fell unconscious, only to be woken up 3 days later in the hospital.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Climate Change!!!
Pick up the newspapers, one of the news items that invariably appears on the the front page will be on climate change. From RK Pachauri to George Bush to G20 Ministers to Lalu Prasad Yadav, all have voiced their opinions on this topic. It is also very much favoured for Group Discussions. But any discussion follows a very similar trail. Climate change - icecaps disappearing - sea level rising - Kyoto protocol and CO2 - Actions needed. Period.
I would like to present a slightly different case on climate change. I am born and brought up in coastal Kerala where the climate throughout the year is constant and decent. Mercury is always between 20 and 35. Job took me to Hyderabad where the temperature varies from 10 to 40 degrees. MBA brings me to Ghaziabad where it varies from 0 to 45. Foreign exchange program has taken me to Paris (Yes, the capital of France.. not the one in Chennai :D ) where the temperature varies from -10 to 25.
Probably because of the fact that I am brought up in Moderate climate but have to survive in Extreme Climate places there are multiple issues that ensue. The troubles include running nose, fever, allergy, cough etc etc. There is no world body to discuss and provide relief for these issues.
The worst of problems that I have been facing has been throat ulcers when winter starts. As Diwali and Dusshera generally coincide with the onset of winter I generally end up in bed during these festivals. The difficulties during throat attack are multiple. The first is that one has to survive on juices and salines as one cant swallow. Expressing ideas is not possible through sounds, one has to use actions to communicate. No wonder my body language has improved over the last few years. This essentially means that I dont make or pick up calls during the attack time.
This time round I had to face another hurdle. Till last time when I used to tell that I had throat ache I used to get sympathy and a lot of attention. This time the scene was different. As throat ache is a symptom of swine flu the moment I told that I had throat ache, people started isolating me. I was looked upon like a small pox vector. Barring a few well informed friends who did not know the symptoms of swine flu, I was deserted in the entire college. Shit happens in life.
Generally the ulcers stay for 3 to 4 days. This time round it troubled for longer. The doc tried a round of B-complex and then lactic acid capsules. For the bacteria they were like RP Singh deliveries - naive and innocuous. The doc finally had to resort to painkillers and stroooooong antibiotics to get me back to normal.
All because of climate change. Happy that the next change will be only in Feb/March!!
I would like to present a slightly different case on climate change. I am born and brought up in coastal Kerala where the climate throughout the year is constant and decent. Mercury is always between 20 and 35. Job took me to Hyderabad where the temperature varies from 10 to 40 degrees. MBA brings me to Ghaziabad where it varies from 0 to 45. Foreign exchange program has taken me to Paris (Yes, the capital of France.. not the one in Chennai :D ) where the temperature varies from -10 to 25.
Probably because of the fact that I am brought up in Moderate climate but have to survive in Extreme Climate places there are multiple issues that ensue. The troubles include running nose, fever, allergy, cough etc etc. There is no world body to discuss and provide relief for these issues.
The worst of problems that I have been facing has been throat ulcers when winter starts. As Diwali and Dusshera generally coincide with the onset of winter I generally end up in bed during these festivals. The difficulties during throat attack are multiple. The first is that one has to survive on juices and salines as one cant swallow. Expressing ideas is not possible through sounds, one has to use actions to communicate. No wonder my body language has improved over the last few years. This essentially means that I dont make or pick up calls during the attack time.
This time round I had to face another hurdle. Till last time when I used to tell that I had throat ache I used to get sympathy and a lot of attention. This time the scene was different. As throat ache is a symptom of swine flu the moment I told that I had throat ache, people started isolating me. I was looked upon like a small pox vector. Barring a few well informed friends who did not know the symptoms of swine flu, I was deserted in the entire college. Shit happens in life.
Generally the ulcers stay for 3 to 4 days. This time round it troubled for longer. The doc tried a round of B-complex and then lactic acid capsules. For the bacteria they were like RP Singh deliveries - naive and innocuous. The doc finally had to resort to painkillers and stroooooong antibiotics to get me back to normal.
All because of climate change. Happy that the next change will be only in Feb/March!!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Sir, gaadi gaayab!!
Sleep is most treasured during the exam season and there is nothing more satisfying than the sleep after a "night out" exam. During the latest season, after giving one of the toughest papers - Strategic Corporate Finance, I decided to take a nap even though it meant missing lunch. But I was soon to be disturbed with a call from Amitabho and all that he told was "Maninder kaa gaadi missing, come to the car parking". Realizing the urgency from his tone I ran to the parking. On the way I met Sony who was going to meet Mr M Singh, the college warden, to lodge a complaint. I went along and the first statement that Sony made was "Sir, gaadi gaayab". We asked the warden whether we can go ahead and file an FIR for which the reply was "Wait for an hour, I ll finish my lunch and come. We ll then decide". Me and Sony went back to the car parking where the preliminary search operations had been completed by - The Detectives-Pachan and Kajal, the local Bharat, the loser Maninder, her friend Hims and a very tensed Amithabho. While collecting the facts of the case I realized that Mani still had the car's key and the token needed to take the car out. There was also this revelation that the car was last spotted a week before and that it was last used by myself and Amitabho. I understood the imports of Amithabhos tension.
Sony meanwhile was using all his contacts to know the procedures to be followed in lodging the complaint. He was trying to get in touch with Mr R Singh, baap of Mr M Singh, to apprise him of the situation.
Probably we have been cramming a lot the last week or we have been watching a lot of movies in the last year there were some innovative and hilarious ideas that came up. The first was from Amitabho. He found out that there was another car in the campus that could be opened and started with Mani's keys which was clear indication that the owner of that car is behind the missing Mani's vehicle. Even the great Sherlock Holmes would have been proud of Amitabho.
Mani's best friend Hims was trying hard to console Mani. "Mani, last trimester I went to Case Cafe on Shruti's scooty and while returning I unknowingly tried to start an Activa instead of the scooty , and u know what the key actually went in". Losing the car would have felt lighter in front of this torture. Hims did not stop there. "Let's go and have lunch. The car would be here before snacks" was her next statement. I could not take it any more. I left the scene.
After half an hour we all assembled at the same place. This time Mani was ready with all the docs needed to file FIR. Not that she had many - the car neither had insurance nor any tax token. Luckily she had the Registration Certificate and the original keys with which it is meant to be opened and started. By this time Mani's boy friend had come and the gathering was bigger than what it was half an hour back. Vishal was still talking with the college security, Mr R Singh and the dean to get a go ahead.
"Y dont mani and boyfriend go to ccd or barista, chill in the ac and chitchat till such time tht the plan of action is clear" was another suggestion for Mani from the group. Wow, someone has seen "Love In the Time Of Cholera.
Mani, the frail girl she is, by that time was looking pathetic. I was thinking either we will get the car or will have to get an ambulance.
We were advised to wait for an hour before going to the police. I came back to my room and rested. An hour later I was going out of the lobby wen I found a smiling Mani standing in front. She said the car was back. Someone else had plans of going out with his friends car, for which he had the keys but did not know the number. He tried the keys on cars of similar make and Mani's car was the first to respond.
It was a very happy ending. Beaming most was Hims for her accurate prediction tht the car will be back before snacks.
Sony meanwhile was using all his contacts to know the procedures to be followed in lodging the complaint. He was trying to get in touch with Mr R Singh, baap of Mr M Singh, to apprise him of the situation.
Probably we have been cramming a lot the last week or we have been watching a lot of movies in the last year there were some innovative and hilarious ideas that came up. The first was from Amitabho. He found out that there was another car in the campus that could be opened and started with Mani's keys which was clear indication that the owner of that car is behind the missing Mani's vehicle. Even the great Sherlock Holmes would have been proud of Amitabho.
Mani's best friend Hims was trying hard to console Mani. "Mani, last trimester I went to Case Cafe on Shruti's scooty and while returning I unknowingly tried to start an Activa instead of the scooty , and u know what the key actually went in". Losing the car would have felt lighter in front of this torture. Hims did not stop there. "Let's go and have lunch. The car would be here before snacks" was her next statement. I could not take it any more. I left the scene.
After half an hour we all assembled at the same place. This time Mani was ready with all the docs needed to file FIR. Not that she had many - the car neither had insurance nor any tax token. Luckily she had the Registration Certificate and the original keys with which it is meant to be opened and started. By this time Mani's boy friend had come and the gathering was bigger than what it was half an hour back. Vishal was still talking with the college security, Mr R Singh and the dean to get a go ahead.
"Y dont mani and boyfriend go to ccd or barista, chill in the ac and chitchat till such time tht the plan of action is clear" was another suggestion for Mani from the group. Wow, someone has seen "Love In the Time Of Cholera.
Mani, the frail girl she is, by that time was looking pathetic. I was thinking either we will get the car or will have to get an ambulance.
We were advised to wait for an hour before going to the police. I came back to my room and rested. An hour later I was going out of the lobby wen I found a smiling Mani standing in front. She said the car was back. Someone else had plans of going out with his friends car, for which he had the keys but did not know the number. He tried the keys on cars of similar make and Mani's car was the first to respond.
It was a very happy ending. Beaming most was Hims for her accurate prediction tht the car will be back before snacks.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Match Day
5:00 am, 19th July 2009: The start of the day was with a start, hearing the bang on the door. Was not surprised to see Pachan at the door as I had asked him to wake me up. He had dressed up by the time he had come to my room. I told him that I will join him in the field. I contemplated sleeping for another 10mins, but the importance of the occasion did not permit me to do that. I got ready and reached the ground at 5.50 am.
I was expecting both the teams to be there on the field. But only the A1 team had arrived - wearing white jerseys. The warm up exercises were going on. Amitabha was the first one to acknowledge my presence saying "Thanks for coming". Felt very good. They were all there - Herfi, Biswa, DP, Pachan, Somani, Anand, Jamit, Powa, Mehul.. I wanted them to do well.
The opposition did not turn up for the next 15 minutes. The match finally started by 6.20. We were up against the best team in the college - B1. They had not conceded even a single goal in the tournament. But we had momentum with us and were brimming with self belief.
We won the toss and started facing the sun. Soon our defence was under pressure with B1 striketrs - Dada, Ganesh and Patel - flaunting their skill and playing with co-ordination. Our team was slightly rusty in the opening minutes, they took advantage of this and shook the net off a corner kick. Our defence had to be blamed.
The game carried on. The opposition was trying to put us under pressure. Dada was attacking through the right. DP has played with Dada for years and on the eve of the match DP was very pessimistic of our chances and had said no one can match Dada. On this move DP was tackling Dada. Dada tried dribbling and crossing over, but this time he failed, DP had won the ball and ran to the opposite side. I felt there is a turn in the tide. We did not have to wait much for the next B1 wave. This time it was Ganesh through the center. The southpaw shot one towards the goal but the big Jamit who made full use of his height to ward off the charge. Soon there were attacks from either side, but the defenders - Herfi, Powa and Jamit along with the floating DP held fort.
Counter attacks were not effective as Pachan's injury worsened.Over and above that Mehul tipped over in one of the moves and hurt himself. This left the entire responsibility of attacks was with our best player - Amithabho.
In between the relentless attack of B1, somehow Amithabho managed the control of the ball. What followed was a fantastic run, beating Ganesh the best opposition player, a shot at the goal and a fall as he collided with a defender. He got up with a despair in his eyes as he thot he had missed the target, but he heard the referee's whistle which confirmed the goal. The entire team, reserves, and the supporters - Myself, PG and Ameya - erupted.
B1 had conceded the first goal of the tournament. A1 from nowhere seemed rejuvenated. Dada was marked by Herfi, Jamit was steadfast while DP and Powa showed excellent athleticism to cover every B1 move. Mehul and Amithabho kept taking the attack forward and B1 were given some tense moments. The whistle blew.
2nd half - A1 was able to hold on to the score 1-1 for the first 10 mins of the second half. True of any champions, B1 kept their cool even when they were not able to go up in the score. A move through the right wing masterminded by Dada, and the following passsing between Ganesh and Patel in front of the box finally scattered the defence. Patel was unmarked and he just had to get past Anand which he did with a good shot. Score 2-1.
As B1 was in followed they were more intent on wasting time. They took time to take their kicks and kept hitting the ball out to buy time. There were minor scuffles at this point of time as A1 were getting irritated with the B1 tactics of wasting time.
But there was too little time for the attack to score the levelling goal. Then came the final whistle. Final Score 2-1.
B1 might have gone through to the finals but A1 fought with all heart and might. The A1 team appreciative of the efforts of the A1 team cheered for the A1 team as it exited. Well played mates. I got fantastic entertainment for the couple of hours of sleep I missed. Congratulations A1 footballers.
I was expecting both the teams to be there on the field. But only the A1 team had arrived - wearing white jerseys. The warm up exercises were going on. Amitabha was the first one to acknowledge my presence saying "Thanks for coming". Felt very good. They were all there - Herfi, Biswa, DP, Pachan, Somani, Anand, Jamit, Powa, Mehul.. I wanted them to do well.
The opposition did not turn up for the next 15 minutes. The match finally started by 6.20. We were up against the best team in the college - B1. They had not conceded even a single goal in the tournament. But we had momentum with us and were brimming with self belief.
We won the toss and started facing the sun. Soon our defence was under pressure with B1 striketrs - Dada, Ganesh and Patel - flaunting their skill and playing with co-ordination. Our team was slightly rusty in the opening minutes, they took advantage of this and shook the net off a corner kick. Our defence had to be blamed.
The game carried on. The opposition was trying to put us under pressure. Dada was attacking through the right. DP has played with Dada for years and on the eve of the match DP was very pessimistic of our chances and had said no one can match Dada. On this move DP was tackling Dada. Dada tried dribbling and crossing over, but this time he failed, DP had won the ball and ran to the opposite side. I felt there is a turn in the tide. We did not have to wait much for the next B1 wave. This time it was Ganesh through the center. The southpaw shot one towards the goal but the big Jamit who made full use of his height to ward off the charge. Soon there were attacks from either side, but the defenders - Herfi, Powa and Jamit along with the floating DP held fort.
Counter attacks were not effective as Pachan's injury worsened.Over and above that Mehul tipped over in one of the moves and hurt himself. This left the entire responsibility of attacks was with our best player - Amithabho.
In between the relentless attack of B1, somehow Amithabho managed the control of the ball. What followed was a fantastic run, beating Ganesh the best opposition player, a shot at the goal and a fall as he collided with a defender. He got up with a despair in his eyes as he thot he had missed the target, but he heard the referee's whistle which confirmed the goal. The entire team, reserves, and the supporters - Myself, PG and Ameya - erupted.
B1 had conceded the first goal of the tournament. A1 from nowhere seemed rejuvenated. Dada was marked by Herfi, Jamit was steadfast while DP and Powa showed excellent athleticism to cover every B1 move. Mehul and Amithabho kept taking the attack forward and B1 were given some tense moments. The whistle blew.
2nd half - A1 was able to hold on to the score 1-1 for the first 10 mins of the second half. True of any champions, B1 kept their cool even when they were not able to go up in the score. A move through the right wing masterminded by Dada, and the following passsing between Ganesh and Patel in front of the box finally scattered the defence. Patel was unmarked and he just had to get past Anand which he did with a good shot. Score 2-1.
As B1 was in followed they were more intent on wasting time. They took time to take their kicks and kept hitting the ball out to buy time. There were minor scuffles at this point of time as A1 were getting irritated with the B1 tactics of wasting time.
But there was too little time for the attack to score the levelling goal. Then came the final whistle. Final Score 2-1.
B1 might have gone through to the finals but A1 fought with all heart and might. The A1 team appreciative of the efforts of the A1 team cheered for the A1 team as it exited. Well played mates. I got fantastic entertainment for the couple of hours of sleep I missed. Congratulations A1 footballers.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Mafia - Slot Number 111
Everyday 3.15 in the afternoon, there is this unwritten rule among the mafia that they should assemble 2nd underground level of the building and wait in that dark empty hall, beneath the sign board 111, for the White Innova Ship. 111 - Nelson's number, the reminder of the great British admiral who some way along his epic battles lost his one eye, one ear and one life. The illuck around the number was never a concern as the Mafia always made their own luck. This Mafia was different. Unlike the age old mafias where Dons used to travel in different vehicles, lest all of them should be blown off together, the Dons of this mafia travelled together in the ship - everyday - twice. And my luck, I was included in the Mafia.
Blogs are meant for laymen and let me speak in simple words. The Dons in our case instead of killing and smuggling, engaged themselves in Accounts and Reconciliations.. The morning sojourn was called Pickup and the evening one as Drop. Yes, this blog is for my cabmates, all those who made my internship a bliss.
Let me just give a brief backdrop for my association with them. As I have told already I was posted in Gurgaon for my internship. My office was in Sec 52 and I stayed in the controversial Sec 14(Refer "Photography Unplugged" for details).It is a 15 minute drive from my stay to work. All the Dons stayed close and was the raison-d'etre for the travel together. The Mafia had its own means of communication. Coz of the fear of mobile phones being tapped, the dons never talked on phone. They used the same satelites, same towers and same handsets - the way they used it was different. They send deftly encoded messages through state of the art technology "Notification Discard Telephony Technology". The service is also referred to as "Missed Calls" in common parlance.For me,an NDTT from Don K early in the morning means that I should acknowledge the NDTT and get ready for the rough day ahead. An NDTT from Don J will soon follow which signals that I should wait outside my stay, surreptitiously and without inviting much attention. Without much Delay the ship would come and pick me up. On entering the ship, I will invariably find Don J within, giving signals to the other Dons to wait at specific locations to get into the ship. Dont be mistaken, it all works through NDTT.
Talking about Don J, her looks deceive. Yes, the mafia has female dons. She has the history of having tamed a mad elephant with her marquee cry "Oye.. chup". The don is multitalented and innovative in life to come up with the combination Sprouts + Eggs = Salad. Don J is a good singer, and is referred to as Mayawati by Don G. Don J is only Don with the powers to board the ship from outside of Slot Number 111.
Don G, My guru and best friend in the mafia.Kudos to him for what he is. He is the only Don in the mafia who carries a laptop around. The grapevine has it that the engagement pics and the abhiman songs make the laptop too valuable to be left alone. My friendship with Don was decisive in me becoming an integral part of the mafia. Don G doubts the veracity of the email that gives Don J the authority to board the ship not from 111, but the gentleman he is, he doesnt question Don J.
Don K, the silent and the sisterly Don. Don K is the most serious Don in the mafia. But of late she mingles a lot. Adding more, she has been even caught blushing of late. The Don got engaged recently and she is busy using those substandard messaging and calling services offered by the telecom companies. Let me take this chance to wish all the very best to Don in her personal life.
Don P. Mess with anyone, but not Don P - u will be belted left, right and center. I was very scared of Don P initially and I knew that I will become a true member of the mafia once I am in her good books. A very amiable person, one whom I have a lot of respect for.
Don S. Don S is special because of the difference in the protocol for communication with her. The mafia uses DNDTT - Double NDTT(Dubara missed call), in communicating with the Don. The Don is the best communicator in the group - thanks to her rather slow and clear way of speaking the national language. This Don is the chirpiest and the most lively of all Dons.
More to be followed...................
Blogs are meant for laymen and let me speak in simple words. The Dons in our case instead of killing and smuggling, engaged themselves in Accounts and Reconciliations.. The morning sojourn was called Pickup and the evening one as Drop. Yes, this blog is for my cabmates, all those who made my internship a bliss.
Let me just give a brief backdrop for my association with them. As I have told already I was posted in Gurgaon for my internship. My office was in Sec 52 and I stayed in the controversial Sec 14(Refer "Photography Unplugged" for details).It is a 15 minute drive from my stay to work. All the Dons stayed close and was the raison-d'etre for the travel together. The Mafia had its own means of communication. Coz of the fear of mobile phones being tapped, the dons never talked on phone. They used the same satelites, same towers and same handsets - the way they used it was different. They send deftly encoded messages through state of the art technology "Notification Discard Telephony Technology". The service is also referred to as "Missed Calls" in common parlance.For me,an NDTT from Don K early in the morning means that I should acknowledge the NDTT and get ready for the rough day ahead. An NDTT from Don J will soon follow which signals that I should wait outside my stay, surreptitiously and without inviting much attention. Without much Delay the ship would come and pick me up. On entering the ship, I will invariably find Don J within, giving signals to the other Dons to wait at specific locations to get into the ship. Dont be mistaken, it all works through NDTT.
Talking about Don J, her looks deceive. Yes, the mafia has female dons. She has the history of having tamed a mad elephant with her marquee cry "Oye.. chup". The don is multitalented and innovative in life to come up with the combination Sprouts + Eggs = Salad. Don J is a good singer, and is referred to as Mayawati by Don G. Don J is only Don with the powers to board the ship from outside of Slot Number 111.
Don G, My guru and best friend in the mafia.Kudos to him for what he is. He is the only Don in the mafia who carries a laptop around. The grapevine has it that the engagement pics and the abhiman songs make the laptop too valuable to be left alone. My friendship with Don was decisive in me becoming an integral part of the mafia. Don G doubts the veracity of the email that gives Don J the authority to board the ship not from 111, but the gentleman he is, he doesnt question Don J.
Don K, the silent and the sisterly Don. Don K is the most serious Don in the mafia. But of late she mingles a lot. Adding more, she has been even caught blushing of late. The Don got engaged recently and she is busy using those substandard messaging and calling services offered by the telecom companies. Let me take this chance to wish all the very best to Don in her personal life.
Don P. Mess with anyone, but not Don P - u will be belted left, right and center. I was very scared of Don P initially and I knew that I will become a true member of the mafia once I am in her good books. A very amiable person, one whom I have a lot of respect for.
Don S. Don S is special because of the difference in the protocol for communication with her. The mafia uses DNDTT - Double NDTT(Dubara missed call), in communicating with the Don. The Don is the best communicator in the group - thanks to her rather slow and clear way of speaking the national language. This Don is the chirpiest and the most lively of all Dons.
More to be followed...................
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