Passing Clouds

Passing Clouds

 

 

  

Sparrows!

Today is World Sparrow Day. There are very few places in Bangalore where you can see sparrows. One such place is Richards Square, adjacent to Russell Market. It has an open rectangular courtyard with shops on three sides selling kitchenware, old furniture and other stuff. The shopkeepers place bowls of water and sprinkle grains to feed the sparrows. Today being World Sparrow Day, I went there to see my feathered friends and was not disappointed. I stood there for some time, watching the sparrows hop around and listening to their chirps. Thanks to the shopkeepers of Richards Square and people like them, we still have sparrows around us!

 

The Road Not Taken

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

.

Extra Cover!

 As the India-England cricket Test match wound to a dull, boring draw in Nagpur, I couldn’t help but go back several years when India had no pace attack worth its name but relied almost entirely on the guile of its legendary spinners and a few acrobatic fielders.

Who can forget the inimitable Eknath Solkar, who could walk into any team on the merits of his fielding skills alone! A newspaper picture of a prone Solkar with his hands fully stretched out just in front of the batsman and the ball held only by his finger-nails millimeters above the ground remains sharp in my memory and still brings on goose bumps.

Another outstanding close-in fielder was Rusi Surti whose fielding skills were comparable to the very best in the world at that time. He was known as the poor man’s Sobers and many felt that he was the great man’s equal in fielding at least.

Venkataraghavan, one of India’s legendary spinning quartet (and who, after his retirement as a cricketer, became an international umpire), was no mean fielder himself. His favoured fielding position was at Gully, a position which Yuvraj Singh later made his own before injuries forced him to slow down.

But, by far the most “glamorous” fielding position on the cricket field was the region covering Cover Point, Cover and Extra Cover. Captains like to station themselves at these positions, the better to have control over the game. Among the sharpest covers were “Tiger” Pataudi and Bangalore’s own Brijesh Patel. They prowled the cover region like cats stalking their prey and when they pounced upon the ball and sent it screaming back over the stumps, it was pure thrill for us spectators! Of course, the most majestic “super-cat” was Clive Lloyd of the West Indies. Batsmen preferred to stay rooted to their spot and not take a run rather than take on Clive Lloyd! One of India’s most successful captains, Mohammad Azharuddin also liked to field at covers, though he was equally agile at the gully position.

There is a story told about the legendary Colin Bland, the finest cover fielder of his time (and, many believe, of all time). His fielding was so awe-inspiring, that once, when play was held up, he was called upon to entertain the crowd and he kept them riveted to their seats with a breathtaking display. He became such a big star that spectators turned up just to see him field.

In more recent times, South Africa’s Jonty Rhodes made a name for himself as one of the best fielders ever. Some of the other names that come to mind are Paul Sheehan, Derek Randall, Vivian Richards, Roger Harper, Gus Logie, Mark Waugh and Rahul Dravid (the last two at slips).

Sadly, though India has improved by leaps and bounds in other departments of the game, we don’t have any legends on the field any more. Sure, we’ve had a Kaif here and a Yuvraj there, or a Kohli now and a Raina then but they are few and far between. We are no longer a fielding force to be reckoned with. Perhaps the fact that India can no longer boast of a world class spin attack has something to do with this.

Bangalore, the great melting pot!

Technology has shrunk the world and made it a smaller place. People are migrating from their home towns to other towns and cities and even other countries to study or to work or simply to settle down into their retired lives.

As for me, I’ve been rooted to Bangalore ever since I first came here in 1960 as a five year old. The previous five years were spent in a dusty mining camp in Gujarat where I was born. The only languages I knew then were Gujarati and Tamil. In Bangalore, we stayed in a small rented house in what was then known as Civil Station in the Cantonment area. My neighbours were Telugu and I was able to pick up some basic Telugu, forgetting most of my Gujarati in the process. My first few years primary school flew by without my acquiring any new language skills. My middle and high school years were more productive; I learnt how to read, write and carry on a conversation in English. Hindi was my second language and I became good at it. For two years we also had Kannada as the third language and I learnt to read, write and speak basic Kannada during these two years. So, by the time I finished school, I had learnt four languages.

Bangalore’s salubrious climate, its warm and gentle people, its peaceful atmosphere, its educational institutions, its many public sector industries and, in recent times, its IT industry, all combined to make the city a powerful magnet. People from all parts of the country came to this wonderful city (and are still coming). Virtually every language spoken anywhere in India (and indeed a few of other countries) can be heard on the streets of Bangalore. Our auto rickshaw drivers, bus conductors, shopkeepers, darshini owners and employees, are all linguists. They are also helping to form Bangalore’s own Pidgin English. Just tune in to any of the FM radio stations and you will hear a masala of Kannada, English and Hindi that can only be called Bangalorean!

This great mixing is taking place not just with the languages, but with food as well. You can go to any of Bangalore’s darshinis and ask for Gobi Manchurian with your South Indian meals! Or you can choose to go with a “silly” paneer, but beware; the chilly power in the paneer can knock you silly! The famed local sweet Mysore Pak takes on a foreign flavour in a new avatar called Chocolate Mysore Pak! Then there’s a branch of a well-known local chain of darshinis in my locality where they serve a memorable stuffed capsicum curry, though the manager there insists on calling it “stupid” capsicum!

Of course, if you are one of the “driven” types, you can sample the “gobi motor”, the “motor masala” or the “aloo motor”! Dumbstruck, are you? Wait till you check out the “dumb biryani”!

My encounter with Bhoot Jolokia!

11-11-11

My encounter with Bhoot Jolokia:

One small bite...

1. The first couple of seconds, nothing happens
2. Then a sort of warmth starts at the point of contact and spreads, increasing in both reach and heat
3. By the fifth second the inside of my mouth feels like it caught fire and my tongue is getting scorched
4. By the eighth second the hiccups start
5. Speech becomes difficult
6. The heat spreads to the brain (“bheja fry”?) and stays there 
7. It is a while before sanity returns

Thankfully, I escaped with just a heat stricken tongue as the bhoot retreated

I looked at my watch; it was 11:30pm, so all this must have started at 11:11:11

I could have been ...

I could have been ...
... a banker, but the idea just did not interest me.
... a miner, but I did not dig the job.
... a photographer, but the idea did not click.
... a chauffeur, but I did not have the drive.
... a parachutist, but I let the idea drop.
... a building contractor, but I preferred sight-seeing to site-seeing.