S. K . Warne - Cricket will miss you mate!

Another sports quote from yours truly - thought that I will pay tributes to one of the sports' most colorful personalities - Shane Warne.

Its been a privilege of the highest order to just watch the man weave his magic on unsuspecting victims - read batsman - ala guinea pigs before they become the next discovery or the next find of the century.

I still remember the Old trafford incident when a certain great Mike Gatting was flummoxed by 'The Ball of the Century', a delivery that defied all possible laws of physics and deified him right there! The man almost lived in a purple patch all through his cricketing career, never a dull moment, always committed, and a complete team player. Sadly Life is known as a great leveller and his personal life balanced it and his happiness was more on the field than off it.

His career is now drawing to a close and there must be millions who will want to thank him for making cricket as exciting as it is now, and for filling the game with flamboyance, committment and pure unadulterated class! So many budding cricketers who wanted to pick up leg spin bowling only because of the glamor that one man brought to the game- His career will soon be over, but the legacy he leaves behind,

Will never be !

What if God was one of us?


Thats a stupefying question isnt it?

Seriously, if this was true, there would be so many questions in our mind

Let me give you the excerpts of this Joan Osbourne song

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home


What if, he was the guy who suddenly braked right in front of you and you slam into his car screaming out profanities?

What if, he is your local cafetaria vendor, handing out snacks to you with a smile?


What if, he actually is Saurav Ganguly (no specific loyalties to the man: but respect his cricketing skills) coming back into the Indian cricket team?


It is difficult to answer such questions, at a time when some people are confirmed atheists, some devoted believers and some who believe in the supreme existence of the almighty - as an envelope, not as a body.

But for a moment, assuming, that he/she is a body - the most difficult question would be to know who is God??
From billions of living individuals, how does one know, that this is God.
We are not in an age, where God would display his true picture to the one who penanced, or begged for forgiveness..

Or as said in the scriptures, God is in us, with us, so God is not 'one' of us as Joan Osbourne says, God is 'all' of us.

Food for thought?

Quarky meets Poddy

It is about time for a new character to enter our lives, Quarky and me have been traveling places - landscapes, valley crossings, jungles and have had a good time. We ve met many people in our journeys,but none who caused as much an impact as this man we are going to describe.

His name is Poddy- a thin lean guy like me and we share similar tastes. Both of us love music- sorry , we live music.
He came into our lives a week back, and since then it has never been the same.Life is now more musical, more upbeat and more plugged. I just have to ask him to sing a song for me and he does that with no hesitation.

Quarky loves Poddy too.. Quarky tells him stories of his erstwhile merman life and how the aqua world was his own and how he killed an eel out of sheer bravado when it tried to kill his folks. - And Poddy sings him songs, enacts movies - loud, happy and living his life on his own terms. The two buddies have now become the most inseparable duo, we have known. Now I am not lonely when I drive, Poddy is there with me. And in spite of being the most technologically advanced among his generation - he is as humble as me [:D] No chest beating, no false ego.

Long live Poddy


P.S. Poddy is my new I-Pod

The Rearview Mirror

The other day, I was riding my bike and at a traffic signal, stopped and looked into the rearview mirror. Saw vehicles behind. I peered deeper and I was getting sucked into the past. The rearview mirror was showing me things that had happened with me over time.

I pinched myself and it hurt! It was not my typical afternoon slumber. The rearview mirror was indeed giving me a different view! Saw my friends with me, laughing with me,crying with me. Saw my Mom making me my favourite dish and how I could not thank her enough, how my Dad bought me a new carrom board and how I was as crazy as Marilyn Monroe would have been -with an Oscar-, Saw myself as a 2 year old with long hair resembling a rock star, Saw the school principal praising the speech I had delivered- the time when my voice had just broken.Saw myself falling off a steep mountain side partly on the rocks and partly on a friend, when I ate pizzas at a friends' place till my tummy almost burst, my first crush way back when I was about 9,when I was slapped by Dad for buying chocolates pinching away money without his knowledge,when me and brother cheered Manchester United goals like crazy,when I slept 17 and a half hours and wondered if I was a zombie, saw all my pranks in school- for which I was hit on the hand;blasted by my the teacher;the principal,when I sang a song in a concert and people said was well tried not well done,when my swimming instructor pushed me off the diving board,when I lost my bicycle because I hadn't locked the rusty lock, when I would change my beard style every week and the barber would think I am crazy, when I went ahead for rock climbing and realised that there are easier things to do,when I spent 7 days in a school camp,when I danced 3 hours without a break and discovered muscular pain all over,when I hit my first tennis forehand,when my cellphone and I went on for hours and hours till the battery gave way,when I cried after England lost a football match,when I travelled in a car long distance full of people and no space at all,when I bought home stuff from my first salary -- --- ---- And on and on!


I wanted to see if the front view mirror had some magic too! Maybe it would show me the things to come. But alas! All I could see was my bony face and glittering yellow toothed smile. It was time to ride home. My Mom was waiting for me!

Riding away from the mundane highway


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,


This is an excerpt of a Robert Frost poem - The Road not taken


When I reach a crossroad, this poem comes to my mind sometimes.
Do you want to travel the road less travelled because it looks less worn out or you do not want to gamble and you take the oft travelled path - and miss out on the 'The Road not Taken'

One road is the same mundane road, where you know what's ahead, like a typical potboiler movie, the other one is enticing, you do not know what is in store and is not used much!

Not that, I like to do everything differently, but the mundane does not thrill me enough and no thrills, no frills is not my idea of life!
I want to travel the grassy path, where the fresh autumn leaves have not been trampled upon, where I can get unmatched satisfaction of having done something new,different,challenging and satiating.

So reiterating the saying "Life's well lived when you have expressed what you felt and did what you wanted to" by the great Arthur Bossueman Tolson.
Do not ask me who this man is! Maybe he does not exist or maybe he does!

A.B.Tolson
(1981 - ?)

The contents in this post can have adverse effects on the appetite and the eating pattern of the readers.
Readers' discretion is advised.


Quarky and the Mucus factory

Sometimes I have wondered, how does the flu factory work? Millions of flu virus workers fighting against the body to produce unending tonnes of mucus, which fail to subside on an Antibiotic attack, yogic exercises or unending physical exercise or was it something else?

One of my close friends - Quarky wanted answers to these questions too. With a lot of investigative traits in him, he volunteered to venture into the unknown - the erstwhile unsolved mysteries of mankind.

This is his account when he entered my body for what he later called - the out of body - experience in a sarcastic way!

I entered the oral tract and made my way down. From the books I read, I knew that I had to make a real fast move over to the trachea.
For newbies in human anatomy- the alimentary canal is the passage straight up to the stomach and much before I reach the stomach, there is a flap called the epiglottis which covers the wind pipe or the trachea from the food pipe

To make the long story short while the food passes down the food pipe, I have to force open the epiglottis and make my way down the trachea and I know -- I would have to make it fast. Probably some James Bondesque stunts - hmm. Lets see.


It wasn't easy: Nik swallowed me with some fluids, I was gushing down like a Grade 6 Waterfall and the moment of truth arrived. In a swift turn of events, I swung and held the epi(that's what I ll call it now on)and arched my fin around it. Turned the flap 180 degrees and jumped in. Some fluid mad e its way in with me too- forcing Nik to regurgitate. I had not anticipated this and I was being forced out, before the mission even began. But I held on to the epi for dear life.

That passed and I was relieved that it did.But the going was going to get tougher.
I had just entered the mucus factory and it was slimy and slippery and I just went sliding down the trachea and hit the division into the 2 lungs.I put on my Magnifying glasses with a 100X Optical zoom and what I saw was some experience!

There were these thin tooth-pick like creatures, innumerable ones which were slowly carrying around this mucus and putting it all over the layers- So these are the good workers isn't it? After all Mucus is a protective substance.Just then! some kind of a particle appeared to get into the tract. Probably dust, and then I saw these Tooth-pickies panic, They started attacking the dust, and in the process - spraying the mucus around. This excess mucus was being thrown off through Nik's nose. Yuck!!
It was a difficult span of time for me, when every sneeze caused by the efforts of these good pickies to throw out the dusties - seemed to blast me out- But I was not going to give up.

And then I saw the baddies too! Tooth-picks again but dark in color, these were the bad men. They were holding the mucus membrane to ransom and squeezing mucus out of it. What fun were they deriving from this was beyond my understanding! They were many more in number than the good pickies and they were stretching the mucus membrane to its limit. Gosh!

So the flu factory has the good guys and the baddies both equal contributors. My research had finished Phase 1 and it was time to leave!
I could be called Quarky the MucusMan after this trip! On one of the next sneezes, I let myself go like I would during a free fall, and there!

I was out into the open again!

Quarky goes to New York

Quarky was a vagabond. Even in the seas below,the merman did not have a home. He would keep wandering, a true wanderlust. He believed in nothing stationary or still.
He loved change. And change for him was travel.

This time around, he landed up at New York,to watch some tennis at the Flushing Meadows. He had heard that today could be another day in the tennis life of Andre Agassi or it could be his Swansong. Quarky was not going to miss this moment.

This was Andre Agassi's playground, or as a fan had it on a placard, this was Andre's house. For 21 long years, Andre had made the US Open his home, where the world saw him as a long haired, punk with dangling earrings and a service return which is known as the best in the game, The US open saw him mature into a class act, He lost his hair, but won over his fans and became one of the games greatest ambassadors.

Its always overwhelming when all this ends in a flash, and Andre could not control it. His tears said it all and Quarky had tears in his eyes too. Quarky would always feel very strongly for such moments in sport and this was no different.Andre Agassi lived the life of a Roman gladiator and in the end died the same way. Never one to give up easily, he fought till the realisation dawned that the mind alone was no longer enough to win. The body had given up. Age showed its weak frame, when Andre would lunge and bend, but the body would think otherwise. The writing was on the wall.

But there is no denying the fact that, as long as tennis is played, the Glamour god will be remembered for his style and substance.

Quarky's stories would continue..

Till then,

Quarky the Merman

Its been a while, haven't been to the Land,
Water and the world below, suits me just fine
Thought, I ll see whats happening this side
I am Quarky, the Merman

Sprung out in exotic Hawaii
And what a sight it was to see
Maria Sharapova being photographed
For the Swimsuit Calendar Edition : Oooh!

Took a dip and came up, alongside a place called Gujarat
Shuddered at the noise, the blood and the gore
People fainting on exhaustion
This was what they called the hunger strike.

Wanted to see this country,
Had heard so much
The culture, the Diversity, the color
Bare Hands or whatever, Travelling was on.

It wasn't that easy, Not as cool as the waters
Sweat dripping down my brow
Stopped by for a drink
Some thing they call Pepsi here

Throw it off! Said a voice above
DDT and Ammonium Phosphate it has,
Kills pests and insects alike
Do you want to die as well?

To be continued...

The adventures of Quarky, the Merman will continue... Watch this space

9 PM, Albuquerque.

Shania and me were having a quite dinner. Was meant to be a romantic dinner, but was not turning out to be one. There was a bright yellow daffodil on our table and the water from the Miraha Beach was making its presence felt. To top it all, we could hear some nice music from the La Nimbatona club some yards away at the beach - What a setting you would say - Hardly!

Shania was looking very irritated, and this was one thing about her. If she was upset over something, she would remain silent, It was difficult to know what was wrong.
I did a rewind on my behaviour today, thinking if I had angered her in any sense.Nothing very obvious, but she wouldn't smile, Her face was only into the caviar and the octopus delicacies. Was she starving? Aah, no! That could not be a reason at all.
What was it then? There was one thing that was spoiling the show though- mosquitoes.
Swarming over our heads, making merry music-not the music we'd like now.
Strange to find such a number at these times, here. And my arms were busy fending them off, instead of holding Shania. And then I let out a scream of exasperation.

"For gods' sake - These Mosquitoes"!!!

She looked up and shrieked - "Yeah baby, They are freaking me out"!

A smile appeared on my lips- So all that was spoiling my perfect evening with the special someone was this!

All I needed on a romantic evening to complete our dinner and a wonderful time - was a MOSQUITO REPELLENT!!!!

Jesus' Crucifixion

That fateful night arrived.
Sin cast its evil shadow
Some terrible news beckoned
Why? Why on earth why?

It was time for the last supper.
All disciples and he
Mistrust was never on his mind
Why? Why on earth why?

And there was Mary Magdalene
No one thought a woman was in the supper too
She could not sense the tragedy to come
Why? Why on earth why?


The bearded guy was put on poles.
Blood oozing out from his nailed palms
So much pain, for fellow humankind
Why? Why on earth why?


He perished, but his words didn't
He left the world but his aura didn't
He lived on in us, forever.
A moment so poignant - Jesus' Crucifixion

Purani Jeans aur guitar.. That says it all! Doesn't it?

“One is not born a genius, one becomes a genius” (Simone de Beauvoir).

Simone's sayings must be the most followed saying for the urban metro parents who want to paint their kids with a tinge of genius - from the moment they are born -
This is a sad story prevalent in New-Age India where, a genius child is a sureshot way to fame, name and glory to the parents and people around them.

So the young kid learns C programming, Servlets and JSPs, Network Topologies when he should be learning how to tie his shoelaces. He is into Quantum physics and the Theory of relativity when he should be making paper boats and sailing them in the water puddles after the monsoon showers.

I read about a 15 year old kid today who has secured admission into the IIT for his Masters. MTech i.e. which people normally reach at the age of 22 or more.
We should ask his parents if he can distingush a marigold from a lily - or if he ever went to a friend's dance party.
There was another instance of a young genius - who was this master of physics who could understand complex formulae and put any research fellow to shame- This guy was 11 years old... And apparently he had no friends.. How could he, if he was cramming up information/knowledge into his tiny brain more than 16 hours a day??
He would probably prove e=mc^2 forwards, backwards and in any other direction, but would he know who Mother Teresa was?

The bottomline is that in this genius production factory - we are missing something -
Childhood. It is precious and it is not to be killed for mere parental satisfaction and glory.

I was just chatting up with a colleague at work, and he was telling me of his trip to Coimbatore that he would make on the 15th of August and how he was a little worried about the trip.
He was told to be earlier than usual to facilitate extra security checks and scrutinies before boarding the flight.

He said that on the day of independence, Is he really free. Is this liberated India?

I smiled and he walked off, but it set me thinking - How ironic is that? Its Independence day and we are still living a life of fear, mistrust, anxiety and everything around us has to be monitored,what we say has to be moderated, what we write has to be edited, We are shackled by so many chains - Do we represent a free India - Are we the India that our heroes dreamt about?

"At the stroke of midnight hour when the world sleeps, India will awake to freedom" said Pandit Nehru - Have we awoken to freedom is a tricky question, something that I am too short statured to answer

But I guess, If we are alive the next day, we can still be free. So Partha will have to go earlier than usual and follow all security guidelines. Life - is more precious than freedom.

Kabhi to Alvida Kehdo!

This should have been the title for Karan Johar's latest film. For me , this is one of the least awaited movies of the year, coz I have never been a man who likes cliches.

'Oh it was so much fun working with Karan- he is like my brother'

'Amit uncle makes it so comfortable in the shoots, that I feel I am at home'

'I get along with Rani just like I do with my sister'

'We are one big happy family -- plastic smile' Enough!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate the stereotyped starcast and the colors and the all-too-similar songs, tears, attire....
Yeah people! I am not a Karan Johar fan. I used to be - when I saw Kuch Kuch hota hai, but not anymore. Too much of honey is poison and too much of the same old Karan Johar formula is even worse. And to top it all - his haunting background music which reverberates throughout the movie Aaahh!!! Give me a god damn break.

Its also his self professed love for Shahrukh Khan - no puns intended :) - which makes the plot even more nauseating. Shahrukh has to be central, He has to be everyone's good son, he has to dance well, wear expensive clothes, sing well, run around trees and famous bridges across the world as elegantly as the most graceful ballet dancer ever born. All this is too much to take.

When will you grow up Mr. Johar and churn out something atleast a little different from the run of the mill crap that you have become so used to creating?

1:50 AM
Place: Home

After a long time of staring at the screen, I have finally decided to call it a day- sorry call it a night- or rather call it morning. The shrill whistle of the watchman interrupts my thoughts and makes me realise that its time to sleep. coz irrespective of the 13 1/2 hour sleep I had last night, its time to put the still-awake brain to rest. For tomorrow is a Brand new day. And so, sleep I shall now and you know what? The mention of the word sleep has brought a yawn on my erstwhile fresh, vibrant face.

To people of the world, I bid you goodnight.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Today im going to dabble a bit into poetry - unchartered territory for me. Except for some silly schoolboy poem which found its way to a children newspaper once.

Probably the sorry events of today are best described musically.

So here goes - And please forgive my poetic skills - There 's always a second time.

What a wonderful morning,
An Early start for me,
Unusual others would say
Yeah, getting up early!! No way..

So there I was singing U2- its a Beautiful day
No rain for now, I thought
Dad said, lets go by car
Hey no! I have a class today, what about the guitar?

So Mister Determined guitar guy
Says - i ll take the Bike dad,
And anyways the weather is clear.
Or so i thought.. Oh dear!!!

Out on the bike, with the wind in my face
And then suddenly ----- WATER too!
A smile appeared on my lips
No time for Nature games this.

But it was :) . It sure was.
I could see the clouds smirking with anticipation
Oh they would,
The Rain God's hand was on them firm.

The next part of the story
was WET WET WET...
The rain party was on.
Just that I didnt know the tune for the song.


I reached work - all dripping.
Wondering if I could get wetter.
and then I also had the AC to contend with
Staying at home - Wasnt that better?


That was the poem - I call the RainGod Song

There are times in the lives of we-the-mortals, when the mind or rather the brain becomes so sluggish that you feel, that you are brain-dead. Thousand things and more are on your mind and you dont remember the second. Nothing is moving, No new thoughts, actions. Stagnant - something that I hate being. Something has to happen -

which is when --- 'Born in the USA' makes me alive again- The zombie is reborn :) As I like to call myself. This Bruce Springstein song which is such a high energy song makes your heart throb again, and suddenly you have more blood pumping into your body. I have just started tapping my feet in the rhythm and suddenly am feeling like a space shuttle waiting to explode into the stratosphere.

Did I ever say, I felt sluggish? Ideas have started streaming back slowly and I know what my next step is. Bruce - Thou art my Energy capsule for the day.

AN ELEGY OF A SICK MACHINE


'Chacha Chaudhary's brain works faster than a computer'

This is an excerpt from a comic called Chacha Chaudhary which I used to read as a kid.
If you know my office computer - you would definitely call me Chacha Chaudhary.
My brain would always work faster than my machine - or rather anyone's brain would, coz it only crawls, looks at me innocently with its huge eyes (hourglass), keeps thinking and stops responding.
It is now, that I know that even machines age. Poor guy keeps wanting to shut down to breathe, and once he is up, just a few moments are enough to see him panting again.

Alas! If this was my old horse at the farm, I would have traded him for a younger more energetic one, but here i am destined to live with this oldie (sob! why in the world does every company have a budget!!!)

Its sad that the computer (especially mine) is not like Wine -- It does not get better with age.

Office cubicle
4:26PM

There are some moments when, Sleep becomes your best friend, embracing you as much as you want to run away. It pulls your eyelids shut, so much so, that try as you might you cannot open it.
The subconscious and the conscious mind becomes like milk and water and jhdkljlfs jfu890./sdf kjklsjf lk;lsf . dsf 239 err.. did i just give in? . He just vanquished me and I was like this mute lame animal with no choice but to accept the inevitable.

There's loud music blasting in my ear, am moving my feet continuously but hey! this adversary is stronger, He has this narcissist smirk and just waves his wand and there you go! am his baby completely.

But I accept defeat. I am a true sportsman, I respect the victors, I respect his triumph and I will never be able to have the last laugh against him. He surely is 'the one'

Its not been a good time to blog lately, - a lot of controversies have been cropping up over blog censorship - with some blogs being removed from the portal since they were explosive, offensive and more food for action than food for thought.

A blog is like a free birds' open sky, flying unfettered- no boundaries, no restrictions , no questions asked, no answers given! There's one word which kills all that though, we know it as censorship. You got what I mean dont you!

Its like telling Bryan Adams to stop singing Summer of 69 midway, its like stifling the screams of exhilaration of an olympic winner, its killing freedom, its chaining expressions, limiting you, showing a part of the ocean thats yours and obscuring the part that isnt.I strongly believe that we dont need censorship in any form : image, motion picture,print or internet.

What is needed though, is to express yourself to the point, that it does not provoke, hurt, cause distress to the masses, fly unchartered territory, but no cruel intentions anywhere! Have a concern for the race you represent, act responsibly and keep the ''Freedom of Expression" flag flying high. And lets pledge for the 'We dont need Censorship' movement all across.

There is a very sweet neighbour of mine - And this post is about him. He is Deshpande kaka, a sweet oldie uncle who is in his 70s. He is one man with a zest for life. I love his character, as cheerful as the morning flower and so positive. There is also an intelligence about this septuagenarian which is reflected in his conversations.He reads a lot, I believe, which is why his range is wide.And the best part about him is his concern for all around him.He will want to know about everybody, irrespective of how he feels that particular day. Isnt that amazing? How many of us will want to know about the other's well-being when we are besieged with innumerable issues of our own.
He proves to us, that zest and happiness do not fade with age.

I wish him the best of health always.

Some years back I had written an article for the college dashboard, and that was on " After Death". Its something which has fascinated me over the period of time. Mysterious and enchanting, the unfortunate part is that no one alive can tell this tale. All we have are theories, And I love to theorize on what can be, speculate on the unreal.

I dont quite recollect the article exactly now, but it was kind of a fictitious account/ or rather my theory of my journey. I m just trying to put down, approximately what my article said.

I passed away yesterday, I could see my near and dear ones crying. Felt a little satisfied that I had made atleast an impact.And after a while, I realised that I could not hear them, and felt very very light.I did not know what was happening, it was kind of a zero gravity feeling, the kind that you would experience just before a flight takes off / just before the giant wheel zooms down. I guess, I was just experiencing the out of body experience - saw some movies on it - but here it was- the reality.

I could feel that I have started moving, and move I certainly did with ferocious pace. Was I just shot out of a cannon? I dont know, but this went on for a while, it must have been long enough after which there was a sudden explosion of light, so bright than even a supernova would have felt pale.

It was then that something truly astonishing happened. I saw 'him'. As they say in the Matrix movies - He was "the one". I guess I was truly very very blessed to be able to look at him.
His face - aah! No words in the English Dictionary yet to describe that, yeah No words! The face had an unmistakable aura around it.There was no halo (our movies represented God differently). But yes,the robe was all white, as bright as the face itself.

To say that I was excited was a rank understatement. I could just not stand still.In all the shivering, I posed him a barrage of questions, Where was I, What am I, Why, and many others. He stood calm, the face was absolutely still. He just spoke a sentence - an everlasting truth -
"Body is what is dead and gone, the soul never dies".

This was my article then... But I have more interpretations of this 'after death' thought, some a little different from this article then, its too vast for a post or two. Maybe sometime later...

I read this interesting article in the newspapers today, about how the soccer world cup had gripped the nation for the entire month, where soccer lovers bunked work, came into office with foggy eyes, with cough lozenges in hand and also had parched throats after screaming hoarse after every game. This did get me laughing, since this article was also describing yours truly here! I was also in this crazy enthusiasts club, where my office times were pushed back, my TV would automatically get switched on just to the 2 football channels, where sleep was a relaxation mechanism only after 3 am everyday.

And i must say, the hangover stays. Sleeping earlier makes me feel a little empty now - as if I was one of those footballers myself. I managed to watch almost all of the matches and there were some heart rending moments with my team being ousted early! But Soccer won in the end and big time! Have always believed that movies have not moved me as emotionally as sport. There are fewer moments where movies have overwhelmed me, than sports which is such a huge beautifully painted canvas, where each shade is as mesmeric as the other.
The agony of disaster and the ecstasy of triumph moves me to tears many a times.

One of those moments was D Becham sitting on the sidelines, hurt physically and heart bleeding, for his Cup was over and so was his country's and all he could do was watch.Be a spectator - Sad! A moment on the other end of the spectrum was Fabio Grosso's goal in the semifinals and his celebration. It was an undefinable emotion
One of pure unadulterated joy, of sheer disbelief and unbelievable energy. One of the games' great scenes, something that proves that if 'u think u can, u will'

I have learnt a lot of life's lessons watching sport, of how David can tame Goliath, how its always mind over matter and how expressing your emotions is good for the system :) which is why I m close to it!

To one of my teachers - Sports!

This was going to be a post on the Azurris winning the cup, but instead its the terror story - Mumbai 7/11

The terror story is a sad face of terrorism, of cowardice, of idiosyncrasies of a bent mind, of courage of the people, of the protectors-the cops who have been silent spectators in this hour of need.And again Mumbai rises in unison for its people, where people fought against the police to go, help its bloodied brethren -(Yes, this is not a grammatical mistake, the police were actually preventing the crowd from helping the victims, wanting to follow some rules-) bah! when so much of life is at stake? If ever there was a time to bend the rules, it is now!
And the people behind this! Where sily ideas rule their heart and kill innocent unsuspecting citizens. And what do they want to prove by encouraging terror, what will make them stop, whether they will ever be terrorized themselves - to know the pain- ?

Your guess is as good as mine--

This one is about an Algerian great.No this is not about Mother Teresa, this is about another Algerian, this one who played football, He moved to france, and we also know this man as Zizou - Zinedine Zidane.

There is one reason I love his style - and nothing, even the head butt will not lower his esteem in my hearts- and that is FLAIR. There are few people across sports who are so stylish, so skilled and who play as though they compose music, as though they are on a paragliding course across the pacific ocean, where breaking a sweat would be as rare as Rain in Sahara.Magicians in the game - i pronounce them as.

Mark Waugh, Roger federer,nick faldo - people of the same class. I love to see them in action. Like a mark Knofler song that i'd want to go on and on.

Zizou! Thou shall live on in the hearts of soccer lovers and symphony lovers for ever.

A great quizzing link. Which I have browsed often.
http://www.kcircle.com
Some intelligent quizzes.

Some days back, I happened to see the movie Superman Returns, and it set me thinking a bit! No, not the actress who played Lois Lane, no she didnt catch my attention much. Its the superhero concept, of someone who rises above the masses,someone with extraordinary powers.In this contemporary world, you would think,you needed that Clark Kent, that Bruce Wayne, that Peter parker to change the wrong, to call in our needs, a more approachable version of God perhaps.We keep grumbling and complaining with our problems and hope that someone could just wave that magic wand and bring light.I guess that is unfair, like Lois Lane says 'Why the world does not need a Superman'. Its Us who have to make the change, if something has to move, we have to move as well. I shall let you know in some of my next posts whether I changed or I am still waiting for Superman!

Another soccer post from me today.
Its been fascinating to watch the soccer world cup unfold. Big teams unfurling their skill on smaller hapless teams.
Some smaller teams fighting it out till their last breath not giving up at all.And some biggies showing some carelessness, some arrogance and being thrown out of the ultimate prize in soccer history.
It must certainly be a super feeling to be a part of the crowd at Germany, a feeling no less than stepping on the moon for me! , But i must say its only a slightly lesser feeling in being a part of the tournament as a TV viewer, one of 3 billion enthusiasts
The national anthem is one proud moment for any player. Any patriot will rise to the ocassion that the stage demands - living up to the expectation of the entire country may be a huge task - but just being a part of the chosen few to represent the country and to make them proud is an incredible feeling.
If you ask me, the team of my choice - I have this to say
"Heart says england and Head says Brazil"
Brazil so far have played some delightful Sambatronics in patches and have looked just good enough to win their matches. - (At the time of writing this post Brazil have reached the quarter finals).But then this is the scary part isnt it? Without breaking a sweat , they have defeated the opposition and its the fact that they can play better - much better is what worries me! Will a semifinal showdown between Brazil and England (its possible, the way the draw is shaping up) Will it be a teary day again for me? After all, I cannot forget that fateful quarter-final where Ronaldinho killed David Seaman and England with a blistering kick and of course - killed my hopes too -
But I hope this edition is different. after all a team has to have an off day isnt it? an off-tournament and i shall pray and hope that this tournament is not Brazil's but ENGLAND'S.

Just a thought on a great debate that is brewing."Who is a better guitarist- Mark Knofler or Eric Clapton"
I read about this somewhere and could not help but add my views. It is a difficult choice surely.Its like asking me if u d like a sapphire or an emerald - or whether you like your father or your mother.:)Very bad analogies - but anyways Here s what i feel-
If Mark Knofler and Eric Clapton run a 100 metre dash, it will be a photo finish with Mark edging out Eric by 1 millionth of a second. Well there you have it! Knofler is better than Clapton but only just. - for me that is -
But both of them have enchanted me with some captivating strumming. Their guitaring i guess cannot be compared. They have different styles. Clapton plucks more and Marky uses his thumb more - i may be wrong - but thats how I see them at work.Clapton sings better, but Knofler was never a singer who strums, he s a guitarist who also sings - or for that matter - speaks his songs. but I love his songs too. 'Romeo and Juliet' is my all time Knofler favourite.And Clapton who by the way is also known as Slowhand since he normally breaks the guitar strings as he performs.and then replaces the strings as the crowd clap their hands slowly...
I d like to clap for him too, for all of his songs, especially for my favourite clapton song - 'Tears in Heaven'
They both rock for me!

England lifting the World cup of football - Year 1966
http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com/06/en/w/photos/index.html?aid=263439&d=1


Will it happen again??

With the soccer season in full swing now, i dedicate all my sleepless soccer nights to the skill, technique, pace, stamina, guile and the will to win of the socceroos.
My wishes to the underachievers - england.
Wish that D. Becham lifts the Jules Rimet trophy