Cricket, Films and Love

Warning: This article is fictitious enough to appear real. Read it with a pacifist.

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One day in a classroom…

WhenI mentioned reading books in front of the first semester students, they laughed at me and asked; “Last week a student broke his neck by reading a book, sir.”

I enquired what happened, actually, and they said the student had fallen asleep while reading from his textbook and that caused a cramp in his neck. It became a college legend and the student was revered as the wise one, the nerd, the intellectual with a broken neck. Although his neck was not broken really, this metaphor stuck. I tried to tell them that I was not talking about reading textbooks alone. Reading indicates a constant interaction with any book. It could be a textbook, or a novel, or poem, or short story collection. It was a pity how narrow their understanding about reading was.

However, right then, I observed their drooping eyelids and suddenly changed the subject to movies. From my experience, I knew this could energize them and wake those who fell asleep with renewed enthusiasm. Films have magic, indeed. “How many of you watched Harry Potter movies?” Yeah! Most of them did! I was happy. I moved on to books and made the shocking revelation that Harry Potter is actually a book. The movie was made out of a story written by a writer called J. K. Rowling. For this, the class responded with exclamatory OH!s and AH!s. Grand! 

Another classroom candy is cricket. Suppose, as an English teacher, one has to teach ‘Critical Thinking’. Well, to tell you the truth, there is nothing to suppose in it, ‘Critical Thinking’ is part of the common course in one of the universities in the Northern part of Kerala. English teachers are pitted against the task of scrambling the pieces of quasi-critical thinking strategies from a poorly edited and misguiding textbook and puke it all in front of the poor students. So the matter is thus. I was teaching Critical Thinking, and had to tell them about ‘questioning attitude’.

At first, I explained the idea, and substantiated the whole concept. “You see…umm…when someone asks you to do something or teach you something do not blindly accept their words. A mere acceptance of what others say, without questioning the ideas or concepts, should be intellectual irresponsibility. In order to be an “intellectually responsible adult”, one has to question ideas, concepts, people and thoughts.”

For a moment, I forgot myself under the impact of the words I was delivering. Man, I was rocking!

 

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That was when I noticed, a boy in the backbench was nodding heavily. I thought, in the beginning, that he might be enjoying my class. That was the reason even after noticing his behavior I kept quiet. Watching his demeanour for a moment carefully changed my perspectives. He was not exactly nodding to my class, he was nodding at the fairy of sleep, and he was dozing off.

I changed the gears once again. Cricket is insanely popular in India. Even though, the recent spot fixing frauds in IPL (Indian Premiere League) has caused some damage to the ‘gentleman’s’ appeal of the game, the game of millions, still survives. So I said, “When a batsman gets LBW, what do you do?”

The boy, who was dozing off a moment before woke up suddenly, and shaking off his lethargy, started getting curious about the class. I was laughing internally, but showing any of my whims in expressions would be disastrous. Therefore, I managed my countenance at an emotionless angle. “When an Umpire is reluctant to give OUT sign to the batsman, the bowler and the other members of the opposing team would appeal to the Third Umpire. This is how we should be in life too. We should question others, but without being hurtful.” They all nodded in understanding.

I could not have explained ‘questioning attitude’ any better with any other example. There was an inherent possibility that the students might misunderstand the ‘questioning attitude’ as an aggressive stand against ideas and towards people.

“You see, it is all like falling in love with a mannerism in thinking, just like we fall in love with people, in real life.” I said. I was pushing my next strategy to keep them interested—Love. A hand went up. One of the students stood up and asked, “Sir, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Well, I am afraid that question is out of purview with our current topic. We can talk about it on another occasion,” I said.

“No, sir, my question is…uhmm…uhmmm…that why don’t we use strategies of critical thinking in this matter?”

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“Ha!” I got the point! Love is another magnetic idea among the young adults we teachers deal with, in graduation classes. This is not just limited to the Indian cultural context nor within a particular age, it seems. Everyone happens to be in an urge to get intoxicated by love’s sweet tendrils.

Anyway, I am sure my students understood the point I made, as they successfully derived the idea that critical thinking can be applied in every aspect of life.         

NOTE FOR HOTHEADS****

Every event, person, university, idea and place mentioned in this article is either fictional or the conjuring of the quirky mind of the author. Consider him inflicted with a serious bout of insanity and spare yourself the pain of filing a petition for libel against him or this blog page. 

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The Spell seems to be Working

Statutory Warning: This post has nothing to do with Superman. But hell, why don’t you understand, he interferes everywhere. 

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Sreesanth, the fast bowler, who once, was part of the Indian Cricket team, whose alleged relationship with bookies put him behind bars for weeks without trials, who hails from Kerala, the South of India, who is the tangible example for the North Indian bias towards anything and everything southern, got bail.

At last, the boy came back home and ate homemade pickles.

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In fact, cricket has lost its grounds based on this degraded controversy, at least, in my eyes. I do not watch cricket on TV any more. Moreover, I do not think I would be alone in this tryst. However, the masses, that I see watching the game in galleries, make me think about cultural addiction and social dementia. We forget that in the name of the game the managements and players played fraud. We forget better things in life, like helping socially backward communities and poor children; instead, we sip from the intoxicating charm of cricket. As a society, perhaps, this attitude is the root cause of the still remaining epidemic of poverty and malnutrition in India. Not ‘cricket’, but the attitude, the inclination to hold on to any form of addiction. This behavioural pattern reflects in individual level as well. Gudka, pan-parag, toddy, alcohol, ganja, charas, and opium, are only a few names in the long list of drugs, the ‘common man’ in India is addicted to. What about prostitution? What about self-pity?

Yes, all these moral and psychological diseases exist in varying degrees within the cultural genome of the nation. Did I forget corruption? No, in fact, I do not want to mention corruption as an isolated instance of addiction. The political community and bureaucracy seem to possess an unimaginable and indelible taste for corruption. The level of this addiction surpasses any sense of normalcy, and often bribes become part of the daily routines of government offices. If you want passport, the procedure requires your clearance certificate from any police cases. Take it an example; there are forms to fill in the police station, to declare you free of any charges. As a token of your appreciation of the services provided, at the end, you should pay a small amount of INR 200 or USD 3.44. For INR 200, you could buy two chicken biriyani or at the current price, one kilo chicken. The amount is not very small, but still, everyone pays it; and for that matter, this amount is not that big either, when passport is concerned. It ends up as a pure reversal of the ‘normal’.

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Corruption is not exactly the city centre, if we take that analogy; it is the city itself. If one looks for a pavement and parking lot for a convenient observation on the monument of corruption, one is making a mistake. The monument is visible, of course, but that is not exactly what you think it to be. You demolish the city centre. Someone else will build another, the very next day. Ending corruption has been the constant devoir, almost all the political parties and NGOs concurred upon. Great many times, they demolished the city centre. Corruption still exists in every office, school, college, university, and organization, in one form or another, though. No one looks at the bigger picture. Corruption is the city itself, and no isolated city centre. That was what I said; I would not say corruption is an isolated instance of addiction. Instead, corruption is the result of many other reasons, from poverty to self-pity. The city is connected with many roads. Many roads lead to the city of corruption.

Compared to rape, murder, or burglary, corruption is a graver crime, because it provides suitable environment for all other crimes. In New Delhi, a young girl student was raped and murdered in what could be called the epitome of brutality. The police could not prevent it, and neither could it save the girl. Child rapes became unstoppable, recently, and the authorities could not stop it either.

However, something was different lately. The masses grew extremely discontent on how the investigations went. The matters gathered even foreign attention. The emotional bondage of Indian culture with ethical Ram and moral Gandhi flared up and rose in violence on the streets. Consequentially, the police force of the capitol came under criticism. There is nothing odd or unusual in pointing the finger on the police. According to a newspaper report on April 29, 2013, Delhi Police Commissioner, Mr. Neeraj Kumar was on the verge of losing his job, due to this unrestrained criminal orgy, and the people’s demonstrations against incapable policing.

 

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Instead of cleaning the city of corruption, the Delhi police, quite quickly found another option; demolish some minor buildings. They implemented their plan to save themselves by taping calls and sneaking into some of the cricketers’ life. Not even religion attracts this many number of people as the game of cricket does, in this nation. Therefore, the investigation was supposed to get some serious attention from the public and to redeem the police department from accusations of corruption and inefficiency.

Everything worked according to plan, and the police arrested the players under charges of spot fixing. It all went a very professional manner. Delhi police arrested three players from one of the IPL teams, including an international player.

S. Sreesanth was the hot shot among the others, the cricketer with international reputation and a potential game turner in the upcoming cricket world cup. Just after the arrests, Delhi police, under Neeraj Kumar, participated in a reality show that, in spite of the lack of any credible evidences, raised the hairs on the neck and arm, and everyone felt gooseflesh.

Considering the efficiency in the working of the system in covering up corruption, Keralites never expected Sreesanth back at home. Nevertheless, it seems the “Akram, Bakram, gili…gili…” spell, I casted in the previous post, worked quite efficiently. Anyway, I think that’s enough.

Note:

The newspaper referred in this article is available on this link: http://www.ndtv.com/article/india/delhi-police-commissioner-neeraj-kumar-to-go-this-week-as-capital-seethes-over-attacks-on-children-s-360569

It’s strange, though, how none of the national media reflected upon this possibility, during the spot fixing scandal.

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Spot Fixing and Champion’s Trophy

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Inthe morning, I had some ideas about what should appear in this article. But as the day wore on, night came and I felt spent and tired, unable to move on a centimeter. Writing requires tremendous energy, especially when it is about such a hot topic as ‘spot fixing’. As usual, I should warn you from misunderstanding the article to be a piece of investigative-gossip journalism or a piece of shitty morality.

From whatever I understand, as much as I try, there appears a limit in knowing what takes place behind the closed doors of the police quarters where Sreesanth and other players “were played” against themselves. Who knows what happened. The latest news surprised us, Keralites, to a very humongous extent. They took our Sreesanth to Tihar Jail!

“That wasn't any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery.” *

Delhi Police validated the case against Sreesanth by playing with the deluge of evidences, the whole world watched on Television. No one took such an imperative for Vindu Dara Singh or Sakshi Dhoni, who was with Vindu Dara Singh, as the television cameras showed us, during an IPL cricket match!

The blame game now rests upon the BCCI Chief and things in this direction seem very foggy, as well. From the apparent lethargy the system seems to work with, in the investigation after the evidence of the involvement of the fat cats started appearing in the media, it is natural to ask; why is Sreesanth alone in jail? 

No one would give you the answer, though. The answer is evident and clear to you, without any engraved or taped proof. It is time to find a culprit and walk him stripped on the streets, uplifting the morals of the nation, and shouting out ‘hail truth’.

Let us surmise the situation by reminding ourselves of some age-old adages: “there won’t be smoke until there is fire”; “if you ran, you should sweat.”

Until this point, it is OK, all natural moralizing crap. Look at what is going to happen next; Champion’s Trophy, the One-Day international cricket tournament. There is no problem in playing cricket, but when you play cricket under the veil of silence to questions like is it a ‘sport’ itself or just a show like the WWE, ugliness crawls in. The Indian Cricket team and the authorities, (the people who manage this entire bat and ball business) should declare the nature this sport in India holds, before the commencement of the Champion’s Trophy.

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If Indian cricket were an ‘arrangement’, still the lovers of this game in India would be happy to watch and cheer for their team like anything. It is there in this culture—servitude to the tyranny of emotions. An “arranged cricket” with its shouting, dancing, and screaming hulks, is in no way lesser than the IPL or the One-Day matches (with no internal arrangement of who must fail and who must win). But, only if they let us know.  

*Stephen King, The Stand

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Anonymous said…

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Enabling anonymous comments in my blog was an attempt to bring people to talk about issues they feel near to them without disclosing their names and identities. Of course, it included the threat of spomments and spiteful bites. I realized lately that initiating a talk was worth the effort. So is the change. 

Here is the result of this attempt. I received a wonderful comment, anonymously. Mr. Anonymous made this comment on the sports article titled “S. Sreesanth will come out?”

Mr. Anonymous, you finally spared me the blame of commenting at my own posts anonymously.

Here is the comment; don’t forget to put yours too.

"I may agree with the conclusion and enjoyed the bitter satire also. But I have some differences with some ideas expressed, and also how Malayalies responded. Except Shashi Tharoor, and Srishanth's family, nobody openely or indirectly supported him during his bad days, because it is in the blood of malayalies to feel jealous in the success of others. We never encourage individual success, whether it is Srisanth, or Prithviraj or Ranjini Haridas. These are the common targets of the virtual malayali, see FB posts about them. What they did wrong? They know what they are, what they want, how they can get it and that they have the ability to get it. It means Confidence, but Mallus (of course not Malayalis) consider it arrogance. I didn't react to the arrest od Sreesanth in the beginning time, but had doubt. Still I had doubt. I don't know whether he is engaged in the crime. If yes, hang him, no objection. But criticising him for conducting Thulabhara in Guruvayour, for wearing some "sacred threads" in the hand, and criticising his mother for conducting poojas when he played in the matches are irrelevant things to be talked about. As if, none of the Malayalis go to Guruvayur and do Thulabhara. Those who come to Guruvayur are from other planets. As if those who visit Shabari Mala are not at all Mallus. As is the one who conduct Poomoodal is not a Progressive Politician, as if the Mosque which is built for honouring the hair of the prophet is not in Kerala. If these things are done by the virtual Mallu alone, it can be forgiven, but the so called "revamped" police also doing the same thing. Evidences given to the press: Condom (as if having safe sex is bad), Ladies were with him (as if it is a punishable crime to be with ladies), laptop ( as if only Sreesanth is having it), Smartphone (as if he is the one who invented it), money (he is a beggar arrested from the street), and hotel rooms allegedly booked in metros (oh my god) and he is said to have connections with the all powerful Davood (The Maharastrian Messiah of Indian cricket Almighty Sarath Pawar haven't even heard of Davood), and that too without evidence. So, Sreesanth is arrested, and then "evidences" are found, not in the other way, that too the Police have been observing Sreesanth and his company from the beginning of the IPL (and now they got condoms, so what, you may say). And tell me, if I feel Sreesanth is a scapegoat, is it wrong?" 

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Sreesanth; Is He the Guy?

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Yes, he is the one, who did the below mentioned.

S. Sreesanth had undeniably inflamed my curiosity in news channels and the print media. I do not entertain browsing much through the internet merely because it is one large sea of fake information, well mostly. If you see a title like “Sreesanth; Is He the Guy?” you might expect a shrewd piece of investigative journalism on the screen, but apparently, what you find is only a below average, pathetic blog post. I am not talking about prejudices about news heading lines here. When such a matter is under scrutiny, as spot fixing in cricket, undoubtedly, this question comes alive, though. Who prejudiced you and me towards headlines? Such and such headline must be some sort of an investigation. Such and such headline would mean the person in the news has damned himself. Who did this to our semi-hypocritical sense of judgment?

I have the answer. Satan.

In fact, it is time for me to confess that I digressed from the topic and pushed you over the rails into the chaos of “intellectual conundrum.” Let me be more practical, here. Confessions are the best way to be practical in front of the law enforcement as well as the social system. So I confess; I never paid much attention to the mass media. I was, well, I am, internet savvy. Nevertheless, I kept my distance with news channels and print media, mostly on the grounds of lack of trust and concern for my own healthy psychological environment.

Murder.

Rape.

Murder.

Election.

Rape again, this time, a child of three years of age.

Murder again.

No, I am not completely out of my sanity, yet. The above-mentioned list is how our lives ‘are governed’, if we believe in spending much of our time with mass media. I am not playing Craig Fergusson. I swear. I am not saying the world is much better without any of the media out there. A certain sense of normalcy still reins my system. My disagreement springs from the fact that when I do not want to hear bad stuff, or when I am actually depressed and want to hear some good ‘news’, they stuff my ears with some creepy gruesome news of murder or rape or both. Yeah, I know these are not the only bad things out there.

Being the softhearted person, I have already proven myself to be; I would jump off from my sofa and go to my room for some silent contemplation, whenever they switched to news channels at home. I never had much to ‘know’. There was always the same thing, but in different details and colours, each time.

Suddenly, one day, Sreesanth came.

He came, I saw, and he conquered.

I felt bad about Sreesanth’s current situation. That very reason made me watch more and more TV. Surveying every news channel, I made mental notes of every new turn and twist in Sreesanth issue. Rather than spot fixing and the future of Indian cricket, I was interested in the tragedy of the young man, a Keralite. Come on, you must admit. See, I am not the only one here with a voyeuristic gene. Everyone likes to peep into the neighbor’s miseries, don’t they? I am a Keralite too and that is the allusion here.

Vindu Dara Singh
Image Courtesy: CNN IBN

Sreesanth is the one; I can say who brought me back to watching news on TV. The paradox still stands like the stumps of masculinity on the cricket ground—how can an already corrupted system incarcerate and judge another corrupted man, provided whatever the police are saying is true? Again paradox!

Did you see how Vindu Dara Singh was taken to custody, yesterday? No black face-covers like how they took Sreesanth and other players the previous week! What does this mean?

Anyway, there is something we all should give some attention to—handkerchiefs. Desdemona dropped it, Sreesanth held it. Both were guilty of something (jealously, may be) and made to suffer mortally.  

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S. Sreesanth will come out?

Image Courtesy: Guardian.co.uk

Is it publicity that follow people of people follow publicity? In both cases, it seems publicity is a hard pet to keep. The latest controversy regarding betting in Indian cricket validates this assumption. Heavy betting!

It is shocking how some of the unsuspecting faces appeared on the scene as quite unsuspecting souls and trapped themselves. The labyrinth of law is tightening its grip around their necks. This controversy is unsettling for most of the Keralites, because of the involvement of the fast bowler S. Sreesanth.

Santakumaran Srisant, is born on 6^thFebruary, 1983 in Kothamangalam, Kerala, South India. Even though, Sreesanth was involved in cases of emotional outbursts in the field, including showing aggressive gestures to senior players, for every Keralite, he was a next-door young man, with a slightly twisted mentality. Prodigal sons do return home, don’t they?

However, when the noose of the law tightened, we felt it was impossible for our boy to come back home again. We thought it be better to blame the North Indian lobby for all the trouble Sreesanth was facing, and did the same. Nevertheless, it did not work, as each day new evidences popped up. It seemed the police system in India had a sudden revamp and the law had a revelation. Let a thousand criminals escape, not a single innocent should be punished.

If you don’t feel the pun, show me your back. Here! Take the kick!

Finally, the police had found clues about the involvement of the underworld and each day is witnessing surprising arrests. There are those in Kerala, though, who always had a bad opinion about the prodigal son. They could not stand his hairstyle, or dance, or gestures, or that pair of prominent openings just above his mouth. They celebrated the arrest and are in euphoria about his not coming back.

Image Courtesy: Mid-day.com

We, ordinary Keralites, though hopeless of the situation, often look at whether our prodigal son’s advocates are able to pull some strings. We often forget to ask if he is actually involved in the underhand dealings or not. Never mind the simpleton manner with which we hope for the best. We still could not determine, for whom we should keep our hopes high, for Indian cricket or for our dear prodigal son.

We are content in some ways though; everywhere, our lad known, now, though he is having a bad time with fame.   

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Sachin Tendulkar's 100th Century

[Continued from the previous post]

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I still remember the day when I saw Sachin Tendulkar for the first time.

Of course, it was not in person, but in a cricket match in Doordarshan Sports. I was perhaps eight or nine and cricket in India at that time hadn’t reached the insane levels of popularity like we have today.

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I did not have a big idea about cricket at that time. Sachin was standing on a carpet of brown mud with a bat; his posture was what attracted me. He looked like my He-Man doll with his bat. Then I saw his running between the wickets and knew instantly here was the hero I can adore in ‘real’ life, not like He- Man or The Phantom, or Conan or Hanuman.

Sachin mania has its crucial role on placing cricket as one of the most important commodity in the Indian media psyche. The mass was already in frenzy, and Doordarshan, the official channel in India, which once was the only television channel available inside India (mostly until mid nineties), had reaped its part in this new era of Indian cricket with DD sports, a venture that started off in 1998. Even though, DD Sports had the growing interest in sports in mind, its spinal cord was still the huge market for cricket.

This monopoly was breached by the arrival of private owned television channels, though, Sachin Tendulkar’s name remained as the philosopher’s stone for this new hype in television sports and especially cricket in India.

The Ghost Rider of Indian cricket has done it again. The hundredth international century by Sachin Tendulkar is equal to any other century he scored, in style, in enthusiasm, in thrill, and in nerve jangling suspense. Even though team Indian lost the match with Bangladesh, who played a remarkable game and deserved all the credits, let us not robe the moment off its charm. Sachin is the man, this is the moment.

Rising to occasions, this hero of Indian cricket had achieved a milestone which is a message in itself. “Enjoy your game, Chase your dreams.”

Dreams do come true. 

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Sachin Tendulkar 100th Century

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16^th March, 2012 is special not just for my personal life, but also for those who love cricket. The reason is there on air in every television channel, and radio, with a sensible number of public awaiting their sports section, blaring—Sachin hits 100 runs once again; but this is not the news; the news is, this is the 100^th time Sachin has done it.

For me, this day is special too, especially in my personal and professional life. After one week of silence, today I decided to write.

After thejunk story I wrote for my previous post, I took an off from my writing, almost entirely. No poems, non-fiction, nothing, which otherwise would have happened as a filling in, in the process of not writing fiction. Fortunately, such a block is not conscious. The unconscious mechanism of mind puts its curb whenever it is needed. I guess I needed one, well, after writing the previous story anyone can understand why.

Image Courtesy: Google

Such was the impact of writing a bad story. When I found signs indicating that God is calling me back to writing, I decided to do what the only choice of any human being confronted with a sign would be—to follow it.

This moment was before I came to know about Sachin’s momentous achievement.

I reached home. Had my shower and switched on the telly. There was a boring song sequence from a recent Malayalam movie going on in one channel. In another, there was a discussion on the recent Piravam elections. I flipped the channel and this loud, thunderous roar blasted through the speakers. It was a sports channel and there was an insane celebration going on.

Sachin…Sachin…Sachin…

[To be continued]

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ICC World Cup 2011: The Last Stand

Soon the globe will shrink into one white ball. The race of life will follow a twenty feet long pitch. Enthusiasm will flow into a stadium to merge with the human sea. The cricket god will come out and embark on his journey to bless and calm the sea, with the charismatic gestures of his bat. Spells may be broken, but some might work. Life will then be known by another name: Cricket.

India will be transformed into a ritual of magic and passion, of cricket. There is nothing that can repel the magic; that can dispel the forces of this sportive madness. Indians love cricket, for it is one of their basic needs of any one born in this country, verged by sea on three sides, and the Himalayas, as the crown.

Let the sweat spill. Let the profane passion be unbridled. The time has shown itself on the gate of the fortress. Let us be prepared to cheer our warriors, for the battle is on its way. Let us remind ourselves that every Indian has one blood, like every game is played on a single pitch at a time. Be prepared.

Wishing Team India all the very best for their Final match in Mumbai.  

(taken from:The IPL Article)

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