ODI Cricket Bids Adieu

Following the retirement of Sachin Tendulkar, Cricket has also decided to end its foray in the limited over format with immediate effect. “I have decided to retire from the One Day format because now it serves no real purpose, given that Tendulkar will not be playing. However, I will continue playing Test Cricket to prepare for the all-important IPL”-It said in a statement read out by BCCI Vice President Rajiv Shukla, who also added that the decision was made under no pressure whatsoever.

“I began my journey in the 1970’s, the same era when HE was born. Back then, people like Sunil Gavaskar, Ravi Shastri and Geoffrey Boycott used to bore crowds and put people to sleep by playing over after over and I wondered what my purpose was. It was only when he started playing that I discovered myself. And Yayyy, I even got people playing me in coloured uniforms, even though I never liked the Australian Yellow or the ridiculously red West Indian uniform. But to heck with all of that, I was the in thing and life was exciting, thanks to HIM and his exploits on the field. As against paan chewing office babus and enthusiastic young boys, even girls now came in throngs to watch me. How I blushed when they said they were “Cricket” lovers. Sigh, those were the days.

Like millions in his country, HE filled me with great joy when he went berserk against the yellow yellow dirty fellow Australians in Sharjah. HE also chose to save his best for me and my premier tournament-The World Cup, with all those centuries and memorable innings. But somehow, I kept eluding him. I will never forget the pride and gratefulness I felt when everyone dedicated India’s victory in my 2011 World Cup to HIM. Whom will India now dedicate its rare victories to, now that he is gone. Whom will they play world cups for. Virat Kohli, Who always keeps on abusing me, despite the fame I have given him or M.S Dhoni, who is too fixated with pitches and curators to think about improving his skills to play me better. Since yesterday, I am having bad dreams where Ravindra Jadeja and Piyush Chawla’s performances are being applauded and cheered. Moreover I also heard that Raju from Faridabad, Pappu from Bhopal and even Rosy from Mumbai will never watch me again. I will be played in empty stadiums and they will have to show players scratching their crotches as there will be no advertisements. Only DD-1 will telecast my matches because no one watches it anyways. No, I would rather face an honourable death of my own choosing than be insulted like that.

I would like to give my best to my older cousin, Test Cricket and my foster brother, the IPL who are yet lucky to be graced by his presence while I rot alone. Shahid Afridi has suggested that the first retirement is no fun and that I should take at least 17 retirements before ending my career. But no yaar, I shall come back only when God’s own son, Arjun Tendulkar decides to choose me as a career.

Thank you for all the good times, GOD

Sincerely, ODI Cricket.

The CineMagic of Barfi

It has been a good three days since I watched the movie. However these lines spoken by Ileana's character Shruti still ring in my years and that for me is the essence of the movie. That true love is that which is unplanned, out beyond the ideas of right and wrong doing, just a pure impulse of the heart, not at all premeditated or blemished by worldliness.

Barfi is sweetness, Barfi is cuteness, It is Chaplinesque innocence. It is silent yet colourful, It is so full of love, yet so tragic and heartbreaking. It is refreshingly funny, not at all sappy yet sentimental. Throughout the two and a half hours, you experience emotions ranging from pure delight to utter dismay to my favourite "Awwwww and Hawwww" moments, but not even for a fleeting moment does that smile leave your face ever since effervescent Ranbir Kapoor appears on the screen and engages the Police in a goose chase across the bylanes of Calcutta, recreated to timeless perfection. Even if you are the most cynical prick in the whole wide world, the movie does a commendable job of giving you hope and positivity!!!

The one thing that stands out for me about the movie is the very niche and never overtly sentimental treatment of Ranbir's disability which is clear from the funny yet tragic opening song whose lyrics go something like this "Radio on Hua, Amma off hui,Munna Mute hi Aansu Bahaaye".The initial portions—in which we see young love bloom between Shruti and Barfi—do try to steer clear of mawkishness and sympathy, managing to make us believe in an initially reluctant Shruti becoming gradually smitten by Barfi’s wordless charm and ability to make everyone smile.

However, Shruti goes ahead with the pragmatic and safe choice by marrying a suitable boy, although she is never able to forget Barfi for the next 6 years, and even beyond. The scene where Barfi realizes in the midst of throbbing rain, that he is not good enough to be with the girl he loves, there was not a dry eye in the theater.

When Priyanka Chopra's adorable autistic character, Jhilmil enters the movie,it picks up its pace and gets more interesting. In order to get his father's ailing kidney operated, Barfi attempts to rob a bank and fails at it with a hilarity beyond bounds. When he decides he will kidnap Jhilmil, the movie transgresses into a different plane altogether. Priyanka Chopra plays the autistic kid with such alacrity that it is achingly beautiful to look at her face, so often placed in Close Up. The relationship between her and Ranbir develops slowly where Ranbir evolves from a protective simpleton to a crazy die hard romantic who would tirelessly throw a shoe high up in the air, again and again, because he knows that she will see it, and he will go back to her. And yes, He does.

The model of true love in Barfi is actually the relationship between Barfi and the autistic Jhilmil. To the non-disabled, ‘normal’ Shruti, now the outsider in their wordless world, it is the only love that lives up to her childish vision of her grandparents, who lived together for ever and then died a day apart. But childish is the operative word here. The relationship between Barfi and Jhilmil may well be unplanned, spontaneous and untainted. But it is also uninhibited by the invariable crisscrossing of mutual expectations, or the occasional messiness of egos, or the essential frisson of desire. It is devoid, by its very nature, of any of the elements of real-life love as most people experience it. I ask myself, Is it actually pure love or pure fantasy??

The movie is a treasure trove of magic moments, right from Barfi offering his invisible heart to Shruti to that fleeting kiss between the two. The sequences where he tries to handle his heartbreak and also cope with his father’s illness, all so silently still give me goose-bumps. Barfi and Jhilmil’s intertwined little fingers as they sleep, gawky and open mouthed, when she chases him shouting his name and he can’t hear her, and then when the play around near that mound with the flashing mirrors and then fans him like a dutiful wife as he eats, or tries to copy the elegant Shruti by wearing a Saree, it leaves you with a taste that just melts in your mouth.

Pritam gives you some really soul searching music and a very subtle background score, which further places the film in an alternate universe. Silences seldom spoke so eloquently. It's been a while since we saw a film that set style at a subsidiary state to substance , put the characters' inner life ahead of the flamboyant manifestations of self-identity in a world governed sometimes by fake charm. 

It makes you wish that there was someone sitting beside you, to share and fight for that popcorn and laugh whole heartedly with you during those awesome comic sequences. You wish you could intertwine your little finger and hold each other’s hand like Jhilmil and Barfi and keep sitting like that forever. And Smile. Or better still, just keep looking at her smile. When you get lost a few times, you wish there was someone to bring you back from the trance that the movie creates. And then you get lost in something else altogether and move from one beautiful trance to another. And smile.
Finally, this is for you. When Shruti says that Barfi taught him that“Life mein sabse bada risk hota hai kabhi koi risk na lena”,It gave a very clear message. So let’s just risk it J J

The movie is beautiful,funny and heartbreaking.Go watch 

The Girl with the Red Umbrella

The rain steadily fell down from the darkened night sky on top of the city.The streets were covered in a sea of umbrellas, people streaming down the sidewalks in a rush to hurry back to dry and warm homes.Businesses were closing for the night, the only lights remaining coming from streetlights, bars & cafes.On one street, cars honked as the pedestrians flowed across the street, rushing to get to the other side, splashing puddles as they moved across the intersection.Amidst the dull colors of the night, a bright red umbrella just lay on the road,twirling in the wind,raindrops splattering from its canvass.It just shone on the road,like it was meant to be there,all by itself and the thronging crowd just passes it by.

He is walking at a brisk pace,wiping off rain beads off his forehead and adjusting his spectacles from time to time..The muffler he is wearing is completely wet and it's only the jacket that is shielding him from the spiteful wetness and the biting cold that it brings."Damn this unseasonal rain"-He mutters under his breath,clenches his jaw tight again and continues walking in the direction of a little-known, hole-in-the-wall cafe simply known as “Eternal”.It had been around for many decades, simply blending into the ever-evolving structures as the city expanded further into the skies.After a long and hard day at work,he used to go there every single day.It relaxed him.They played his favourite John Lennon and Pink Floyd songs and he just sat there,head thrown back against the couch,soaking everything in.In these moments of solitude,as is natural,his mind used to wander into the past.In his college days,he was a poet and so thinking long and hard and quietly came to him like a duck in water.He never really spoke much,just a flick of the hands to signal the waiter and two words "The Usual".His Caramel Coffee,warm and frothy would be presented and he would be relieved at the lack of social interaction henceforth.

One of the few remaining buildings of the past, it stood as a symbol of what once was a time of simplicity and enjoyment in the city.He took a deep breathe, inhaling the scents as they wrapped around him, drawing him into the building.The lights were dim, the mood was mellow, and the air was filled with warmth,quite different from the cold and frantic wet weather outside.

He had noticed the umbrella on the road and it had struck a chord in his heart somewhere.He felt like the umbrella itself,people oblivious of his existence.It wasn't as if he was unwanted,but there was this constant pinch inside him,that he is invisible.Just like the umbrella.However,that wasn't the reason he was lost tonight.

The song that played in the background also added to the thoughts and memories that played in his head.It happens,doesn't it.Sometimes each and every word,each and every thing around you,begins to make sense.Infact,sometimes it made a little too much sense.

"In all honesty, 

I wanna love like that.

With someone to lay my head on when it feels

like the weight of the world

rests all on my shoulders,

To vent to when the stress gets

to be too much, only to collapse

in her arms when all is said & done"

The song breaks and he is suddenly broken out of his trance.It's almost as if somebody shook him up and blew life into him again.In an awkward jiffy,he woke up,signalled to the waiter that he had paid his check and walked out.15 seconds.That's all it took for him to vanish.

He rushes home,now wet from head to toe,the drops dripping from his brow on the carpet and on the floor..His muddy shoes are cast aside and he switches the lights of his one room apartment.It is all familiar now.He begins to calm down.He can no longer be the careless brat he once was,even if he tried to,and so he changes into dry clothes,wipes his head with his mickey mouse towel that people in the apartment across gape and guffaw at,when he shaves in the balcony.He remembers his promises of taking care of himself,and only then,he goes back to his  thoughts...The Diary..Yes,he flutters across its pages,which are now yellow and pale..

The Date is of 6 years ago,18th August,2006.

"I remember the day I met you. It was raining; raining hard. It was sometime in April. I don't remember the day, but I remember how I felt; how I felt when I first saw you. You were standing at the corner of Mr Mehta's drugstore; with a red umbrella, sandals, black garbage bag. And you were smiling all to yourself. There wasn't anyone else around. It wasn't like I've never seen a beautiful girl before. Heck. It was just that I've never seen anyone so beautiful to make me feel like crying and laughing and dancing all at once. I didn't know exactly how, but my body drifted to your side. I got pulled into your orbit and I couldn't resist even if I wanted to. You must have thought I was crazy; me in front of you, drenched to my core; Standing there staring; not knowing what to say; but just staring at you under your gorgeous red umbrella. Long open hair,fluttering in the wind,copper coloured eyes, the dimple on your cheeks and chin as you just continued smiling. But you smile at me and I come back to earth. "Hi". You say "Hi". And then it's like I know you. Like I've always known you. The bag is tinging, clanging, rustling against your leg. You give me a little peak at all the aluminum cans you collected. There must have been at least forty, maybe 50. Then I ask you why you need all the cans for. "My masterpiece" you tell me. You say you're an artist. I ask you what kind. "The kind who makes art". Your laughter makes my chest ache. Not in a bad way; just because I want you so badly. I wanted you to know me, to go places with me; I wanted to stay at that corner with you. You tell me it was nice talking to me and you gotta get going. I'm sinking as you turn away from me. Sinking into myself; hopelessly immersed in you. Please don't go.My voice is lost, but found in time to say "Wait!" I call to you. You turn again towards me. I introduce myself; tell you my name; and I hated myself for stuttering. I tell you that I needed to see you again. Needed to. You tell me your name is Aarohi. From that moment I knew no name would ever sound so pretty to me as yours does. I knew I loved the girl with the Red umbrella.

Signing off

Krish"