Something about Nothing

Yesterday while returning from office, on the back glass of the car in front of me I read - “My Team - Chelsy”. I sincerely hope that the guy is not talking about football…

Saturday found me at Lal Bahadur Stadium (the now defunct “Official” Cricket Stadium of Hyderabad that played host to the recently concluded ICL, the IPL predecessor). I had planned to watch the ICL “Live in the stadium”, but the plan never realized… Now I was at the venue of the tournament, the stadium seemed to be recuperating after the tournament. Every place I turned my eyes to, there were debris - the stands where every four and six was cheered by dancing girls were being dismantled. The commentary box, third umpire’s box, and the studio from where pre and post match analysis is done were intact, and it was quite an experience seeing them. The commentary box had two long tables with many white paper strips proclaiming the type of feed (sky-cam et al) that the TV that would have been there would be displaying. The view from the commentary box of the ground was fantastic and on a match night it would have been spectacular, day-by-day I am growing more envious of the commentators’ brigade. What surprised me though was the size of the three rooms, only the commentary box was what could be termed as large, rest two were just average sized. Off the commentary box, I pried of a piece of paper that had the timing slots for the commentators, earlier I used to think that the commentators divide the job based on number of overs (generally every 7th over the commentator is changed in ODIs) - now I know the distribution is time based.

Well these things had their charm, but for me the clincher was wandering around the ground and checking out the pitch. Utkarsh had earlier mentioned that a ground does not seem as big as it is seen on the TV, even I had had the same experience when I had visited Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore - the grounds seem much smaller in real life. And I was drooling at the prospect of playing on the lush green grass, in college we used to dive around while fielding even when the only trace of grass on the cricket ground was below the trees which was the pavilion for all our matches As for the pitch, I was actually very surprised. During cricket telecast, you can see the pitch as a stretch of brown surrounded by green. Here the pitch was a speck of brown and green inter-mingled. It had been just 3 days that the ICL final was played here, and already the pitch was being taken over by the grass. I am no expert on pitches; I had no idea whether that pitch would turn, whether it would aid swing, or whether it was a belter. I know just that it was much softer then what I had expected, it had a sort of spongy feeling to it - bowling a bouncer whizzing by the nose would have been very tough on this pitch. This is why the Indian pitches are conducive to batting, without bothering about getting your rib cage shattered; you can play your shots. I’d love to play on that pitch, although not facing the bowlers who would generally bowl there On the whole I felt the picture presented by the television is afar from truth. A cricket stadium is much more different from what is seen on the idiot box.

For the religious minded - this is where The-God hit his highest score

As a long weekend arrived, an improptu plan was thrown together. A quick-fire visit to Gulbarga with friends saw us stopping at a small dam. In the fast fading light, a herd of cows was returning from the Jugaali session. An apt photography opportunity saw me ruing for the nth time that I should, nay “must”, get a new camera. Fondly remember the camera that Bro brought for Dad, spend some time mulling over the features of that camera, suddenly realize that the cows would not pose for you, and would soon be out of the frame. Get down on one leg to reduce the shake, focus, click, post-process, publish.

Before I encounter this question once again let me answer it, “Married life is great…” Thank you very much for not asking this question again… Now that I have this weight of my heart, it is time to recount a bit on the life as it was over the past two months.

Left for home on 15th Feb, met Bhai after a long long time, felt amazing. The guests had already started congregating, so that did deter me from spending time with the family, but that helped me steal some time with the soon-to-be better half (I was not supposed to meet her before marriage, but when did I do what I was supposed to do?). Anyway, spent a hectic week doing absolutely nothing, and on 22nd we moved the base to the Wedding Place. That day the function list read - Chunri and Garba. Chunri - Sagai in Gujarati tradition - was still ok, I just had to sit and smile at all people greeting me. What followed was straight out of a horror movie for me, and comedy movie for all others - I had to dance during the Garba function; that too for straight 3-4 hours. I tried to spend the evening as gracefully as I could, and you do not have to be a wizard to conclude that I failed abysmally. On the other hand, the better-half can teach Madhuri Dixit a few moves, so you can understand my plight.

The last night that I was to spend as a bachelor was devoted to Poker and Sweep. Adi, Abhinav, PJ, Parry, Vidit - thanks a lot guys for making it to my marriage, and Parry thanks for teaching me Poker and Sweep, again!

An early morning was needed for the first ceremony of the day - Mandap Muhurt. Haldi ceremony followed it, a hurried bath later I was all ready for the Baraat. Now this is the bad thing about Baraat - I had no idea what was going on there - only later on when I was seeing all photographs and videos did I realize what was happening, all the time I was sitting comfortably in the car.  Towards the end of the Baraat, I was allowed a glimpse of the dancing from the worst possible spot - the center-stage. Once we reached the venue the better-half was ready to welcome me with garlands in hand. I was ready for a 3-4 hour long marriage (generally that is how long the Gujarati marriages last - at least the ones that I have attended), but the Punditji who was conducting the marriage was awesome! He finished all the functions in almost one and a half hours. During the Pheras there is a custom - whoever sits first on the chair more number of times after Punditji completes his Shlokas would rule the roost. Shockingly it was I who won! I was scoffed at for thinking and claiming that this would hold true for the rest of my life, and unsurprisingly in a subsequent similar “competition” the better-half won hands-down - which laid down the guidelines for the married life I am spending these days (since the better-half is reading this over my shoulder, I have to write that she treats me nicely )

The marriage was short, but unluckily I could not say the same about the Wedding Reception. We were standing on stage for more then 3 hours, and throughout we were greeting guests, smiling, posing for the cameras, saying bye to the guests, and immediately turning to greet the next set of guests. And hats off to my Dad, almost 1500 people came on stage and Dad knew the name of each and every one. He introduced me to everybody, and I can claim to not remembering even a single name One of the guests came on stage and said, “You must remember me by now”, as usual shamelessly I reply “Oh yes”, the uncle asks again, “Who am I?”, quick thinking (or thinking on my feet would be more apt, as I was on my feet the whole time) saved the day - I glanced at the envelope he gave me, read the name, and carried on the conversation A tiring 3 hours later, we stepped down and for the first time we were able to enjoy food that was served at our own Wedding Reception.

… to be blogging from my personal laptop with a internet connection at home Many posts flitting in and out of my mind but other obligations take priority right now …

Right now hoping that the Reds (Man-U and Ferrari) come up trumps tomorrow.