Shaken and Stirred

Well, the Cricket fanatic that I am, I read this Cricinfo article on famous quotes in the world of cricket this year and here are some excerpts: "There are generally no reporters at our matches, either to see our team's performances, or my dimples." Mithali Raj , captain of the Indian women's team, bemoans the lack of media coverage of women's cricket "I've always subscribed to the theory that you shouldn't make a fast bowler angrier than he already is." A deadpan James Sutherland , Australia's chief exec, when asked for his thoughts about Tait's action "Who made them boring?" Looking straight at the camera, a deadpan Richie Benaud responds to Geoff Boycott's call for four-day Tests because five days are, apparently, boring "I realised the ball was bigger than one person, bigger than Gilchrist. It was the public's ball." In a speech worthy of a film, John , the man who found the ball Adam Gilchrist hit for

Gandhigiri is a sobriquet popularized by the movie Lage Raho Munna Bhai for the application of some of Gandhi’s principles. Although Gandhism is a much broader ideology, Gandhigiri touches the core of Gandhism: adherence to the path of Truth and non-violence with unwavering faith and utmost devotion while fighting for a cause. But, real life as we often realize, is not as rosy as Bollywood would like us to believe. So the question boils down to if Gandhigiri is relevant to people like you and I. Can we follow it? Relevance means ‘related to the matter at hand’. So, is Gandhigiri related to GenNext (the matter at hand), by what it means now , and not by what it should mean? And what does it mean? This term, coined by a cola advertisement and picked up by the mass media thereafter, is not another word for the youth. No. That would be a crass generalization. It is actually an epithet for those among the youth who have an urban lifestyle, like you and I, the ‘cool and modern’ us

Somename * was very pleased with himself. He was returning to IMSc after attending to some work in Adyar. It was almost quarter to eight. He had promised his friend he will be back in IMSc in time for dinner. Somename was feeling very smug about keeping his promise. He had traversed heavy traffic on mud-sloshed roads, weaving through honking buses and stuck cars. He particularly recalled, with a satisfied smile, how he had overtaken a Toyota Camry on his rather rickety MTB Hercules, borrowed from a PhD student. As he neared the bicycle road, (which lies to one side of the very wide Old Mahabalipuram Road) he remembered that the bicycle road was submerged from the thundershower earlier that evening. Weighing his options between riding on the wrong side of the main road and taking the footpath, he chose the latter. His boisterous mood helping that decision. But there was a glitch. He would have to get off the bike to lift it on to the slightly elevated footpath. That did not feel right

Debasish* was in a pensive mood (girl problems as usual). He was riding a bike he borrowed from a PhD student, returning from a refreshing bout of cycling. The bike, being a stylish MTB (Mountain Terrain Bike, for the uninitiated), had two sets of handlebars. Debasish was enjoying the fresh air with his hands on the upper ones. As he neared the IMSc gate, he noticed that the narrow entrance was partly blocked by a group of fellow summer interns. But in his very deeply pensive mood, he neglected his noticing this very noticable obstruction. So he carried on, unruffled. Meanwhile, the guy blocking the gate noticed the onrushing Debasish (with a very pensive expression on his face). He tried to move out of his way only to realize that Debasish, in trying to avoid him, moved in the same direction. Now Debasish swerved away and reached for the brakes. To his immediate wonder and anguish, the upper handlebars did not have a set of brakes with them. Brakes were there only for the lower ones

Chennai has turned out to be most difficult to travel in, especially for a non- Tamilian like me. The public transport system is not really bad. There are loads of buses, and quite frequent too. But sometimes the destinations are written only in the local language. And if you ask for bus routes, using as much sign language as you can manage, one gets a queer 'all buses go there' answer. The auto-rikshaw guys here have made quite a name for themselves for their knavish tendencies. As I was forewarned, I avoid taking an auto as far as possible. So, invariably I end up walking most of the time. But walking has its limits. So me and my friends from Delhi (we are all here for the summer) try to borrow a bicycle whenever possible. Our bicycle rides have been quite eventful. Kanishk* was riding his bike late at night. It was past 1 am. He and his friends had just been to the Besant Nagar Beach. He had been dreading the ride back through the dark and desolate road from IMSc (where his

"Hey !! How's College??" Oh! The complete sense of ease that follows this remark is remarkable. You know perfectly the routes the conversation is going to take and are familiar with the by-lanes as well. The reason that this very pick-up line is so widely in use among young undergraduates is that complete strangers can become near soul mates within just a few minutes of dialogue after using it. What usually follows is a series of innovative adjectives - that get better with each successive retelling - describing the college, its campus, the crowd, its grandeur and resplendent glory. Hostlers can brag about their night-life while day-scholars rant about the enjoyable trips back and forth. For one practiced in this art, appropriate metaphors also flow with ease, captivating the listener. Of course, well-timed "really!?", "hmmm..", "is that so?", "What about…", etc are all vital and show the level of enthusiasm of the listen

I like to call myself an intellectual. Modesty forces me to explain the context I use the word in. It sometimes happens that I go into deep reverie when thinking about something very simple and I will end up with a very strange idea. It’s a regular pastime for me. One such sequence of thoughts went like the following: Everything in the natural world wants to survive. There are plenty of examples- leaves of the huge Amazon forests fight with each other for sunlight; the cacti in the Sahara protect themselves from thirsty animals through thorns; the bacteria deep in the ocean beds have mechanisms to withstand the high pressures and low temperatures; etc. All species seem to have an unwritten law that tells them survival is all-important. All of them have a 'survival instinct'. Now I asked myself, for what? There must be a purpose. Or is the very necessity of existence of purpose a purely human notion? Anyway, assuming there was such a purpose, I set about looking for one. The