Something about Nothing

If I had a bookshelf, this book would surely go to the top shelf where I would keep the best books I have read. I have been bored of reading books where the dominant mood is somber (or deathly) as the protagonist is going through many problems in his/her life. In this book too, the protagonist - Liesel - has her share of problems too, but the way her and her family’s life is depicted is anything but somber.

This book tells the story of an orphaned girl who goes to live with foster parents. She steals her first book en-route to their home, even though she does not know how to read. She learns reading, and steals many more books to satiate her hunger for the words. And all this happens is in the backdrop of World War-II, Liesel and her family are living in the Nazi Germany. Her family is one of the few who are compassionate to Jews, and they hide Max - a Jew - in their basement to do their bit for saving the Jews.

The writer has a strong hold over the reader very soon. I, for one, was completely lost in the book. Markus Zusak was making me laugh and cry at his will. Humour is hidden everywhere in this book, I was thoroughly captivated. The book is over 500 pages and never once was it a tedious read. And you always knew what is going to happen, the narrator - ‘Death’ - always started a new part with telling what happens in the end, and still I could read it without being bored or getting restless. If you have not read this book, I would strongly recommend it.

Technorati: Review, Book Review, The Book Thief, Markus Zusak

The wife was on his case. He had been ignoring his daily rituals for quite a long time now. He was found glued to the television for hours at a time, the morning-walk had literally gone for a walk, the eating hours be damned - this was the time for grab food - junk or healthy did not matter - and rush back to the screen before the commercial break ended. To the consternation of his wife, he increased the volume once again:

Two hours back, I was preparing for an early dinner and sleep. Who would have thought that India could take the fight back to Pakistan after being 6 wickets down in 13 overs. 300 is not a small target, and Rohit Sharma and Irfan Pathan have scripted an amazing comeback for India, but the work is yet not finished.

Ya, especially after that fortuitous run-out in the last over. Pathan would have been very tired after running for more than 2 hours and that tiredness showed when he was going for the third run. It all boils down to this - 10 runs needed in the last over with three wickets in hand to lift the 2011 Cricket World Cup.

Listen to the crowd; I believe that entire Mumbai would be able to listen to the Wankhede right now. I am surprised that the batsmen are able to hear each other’s calls for runs. And now it looks like that Shoaib Malik has decided on the bowler, it is going to be Umar Gul who has been entrusted with the ball.

“Ohh, I wish Sharma had taken that risky single on the last ball. Now Piyush Chawla will have to face Gul”, he said to no one. The wife had just gone out to get away from the incessant Cricket that had been residing in their house for the past month.

That’s a good yorker on the toes by Gul, Chawla does well to survive. So the equation stands at 10 from 5.

“I should not have bet so heavily on India lifting the World Cup”, he rues - maybe a tad too late.

Gul initial burst of the four wickets was the impetus that Pakistan needed, otherwise 300 from 50 overs on this featherbed of a pitch was easily attainable. Gul runs in, this time it is a quick single to mid-off. Sharma on strike, that is what India needs. 9 runs needed from 4 balls.

India desperately need a boundary. Knowing India and Pakistan’s fickle tendencies, I am sure these 4 balls would make or break many careers. Can Rohit Sharma save his career? Oh yes, he seems intent on doing so. That was a glorious hit, an inside out lofted shot over extra cover. It was pre-meditated, it was risky, but it paid off. Now 5 needed from 3.

“Maybe I’ll win after all. With the odds I am sure to get at least 4 times my wager”, he exhorts India, and there are more than some selfish motives.

Malik just had a long talk with Gul, if I were Sharma I would love to know what conspired between them. As the field settles, Gul starts his run-up and it’s a very well disguised slower ball. Sharma reads it at the last moment, and is just able to push it to mid-wicket, another single and the equation reads 4 runs needed from 2 balls.

“Come on Chawla, now you are the one who can save me from bankruptcy”, the restlessness was showing on his face. Panic had him in its grasp.

Till date none of the World Cup Finals have reached the stage where the decision is clinging on to the last over. This is reminiscent of the 2007 T-20 World Cup Final, where Misbah had found Sreesanth with clinical precision to hand India the first T-20 World Cup.

Gul goes round the wicket to the left-hander. Gul trying to change the angle, and that is very intelligent from Chawla - he shuffles outside off, and glances it towards the fine-leg boundary. A tumbling stop there, and Sharma wants a third. Chawla rightly sends him back, Sharma just makes his ground.

Two runs from the last ball. Either Gul, or Chawla would be a hero tonight.

His eyes are clenched shut, he is shaking, and he is quickly muttering the Hanuman Chalisa under his breath. A tensed mind is most prone to remembering the God.

Malik has a long chat with Gul, and so do Sharma and Chawla. Sharma points out all the gaps, but to Chawla I am sure, they would seem miniscule. The umpires intervene saying that it’s a long time; let us get on with the game. What would it be? An Indian victory, Pakistan victory, or a tie? Let me pull up the rules and check what happens in case of a tie.

Search for the rules later, the fielders are set, Chawla is on strike. Listen to the crowd, I can hardly hear anything. Gul is steaming in; it is a short ball - hurrying onto Chawla. He swivels and somehow gets his bat on it, the ball has gone high in the air, Malik is trying to settle under it, but the swirls are making it difficult for him. Sharma and Chawla are running hard, praying that Malik drops the catch; they are going back for the second. Everything depends on Malik now, he settles under the ball and he pouches it neatly. The Pakistanis have clinched…

He did not hear anything else, he was just feeling very tired. He felt he just had a mile long swim and was now drowning. He was unable to breathe; it felt as if someone had put a big weight on his chest. He was gasping for air, he could hear anything, but the eyes were still glued on the television. The last thought that flitted through his consciousness was, “Why is Chawla jumping?”

Can you believe the drama here? Gul has over-stepped. It is a no-ball. No body heard the call, not the batsmen, or the bowler. But the umpire’s arm had gone up instantly. It is not Pakistan, it is India who have clinched the 2011 Cricket World Cup. Chawla is jumping up and down, everybody is trying to catch Sharma but he has gone on a victory lap at his home ground all alone. The crowd is still in a daze, wondering what just happened…

He thought he died a pauper, instead he died a millionaire.

–

P.s: Post # 300

Whenever I go somewhere, I enjoy the journey as much as the final destination. This time the destination was Melghat but the journey till there had pointers to a bad trip. Well the pointers were misleading and it was an amazing trip. Melghat Reserve Forest is located in the Amaravati district in Maharashtra. The AP State Transport bus took us to Amaravati from Hyderabad. In Amaravati we booked the Forest Guest House at Kolkas and we were on our way to the reserve forest. Being ignorant of the place, we took State Transport buses to Semadoh (the entry point to the forest, all the necessary permissions are to be taken from here). On reaching the guesthouse we (Arun [as usual the planner ], Alosh [the pro photographer] and me) came to know that without our own vehicle it is impossible to do anything. And the guest house at which we were staying had no phone connection (forget about cell phone connectivity, that would be an alien concept in the jungle); and being at a distance of 2 kms from the main road - where the ST buses ply - it was not easy to go the 12 kms to Semadoh to find some transportation. It was already 5 in the evening and darkness was descending fast. As I was ruing our bad luck, the watchman of the Rest House helped us find a bike, and Alosh went with him to find some wheels. Two hours later we had a Jeep for the journey, albeit a bit expensive, but at least the trip was not heading towards the trash-can.

Next day morning we were up at 5 in the morning as the jeep was to come at 5:30. The jeep did not arrive till 7:30, but the two hours were spent fruitfully with the photography extravaganza. All three of us were avid photographers with the other two being proper pros, and me having a simple point-and-shoot I made as optimal use of it as I could. Anyways the jeep was almost two hours late, and we immediately set out to find the elusive tiger. The tiger remained elusive, but we were able to spot a bison. That was the only success story of the morning, although I could attribute hearing the tiger’s call as a semi-success too. We waited for a long time for the tiger to make an appearance, but it disappointed us. Back to Semadoh we had a breakfast, visited a small waterfall, did proper mountaineering and set out to visit Chikhlam Point - a watering hole. The jeep-top ride was sure fun, but that was the extent of it. Our guide found an acquaintance of his, and their talk at the top of their voices would have driven away any animal. Next we visited Bichchu Kheda Fata. Without a doubt it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. Next on agenda was the evening jungle safari. The start was great with two bison saying “Hi” and immediately saying “Bye” by running full gallop across the road on the behest of false monkey calls. To see two 900 kg animals accelerating to over 40 kmph within seconds was scary. The bison is anyways much more scarier than a tiger, as it would attack without provocation. A tiger needs a reason to attack a bison does not. The evening drive through the jungle was hugely successful with multiple sightings of the bison and a stag sighting. Trying to shoot good shots with one hand while trying to steady yourself with the other hand clinging to the carrier on jeep top was impossible, and I had no good shots of the evening safari. Though the highlight of the day was spending better part of the day on top of the jeep driving through the forest.

Next day we planned a trek through the jungle. The guide asked us how long would we be willing to walk, we decided on 15 kms. The only animal we saw through the 15 kms of jungle was Man. the villagers from the adjoining villages were inside the jungle cutting the grass. That being the core area, it was illegal, and our guide warned everybody. But because of the villagers the plains that would be filled with deer, was empty. The trek took us through beautiful scenic places with us being at places that could be only termed as wallpaper-material. During the trek we heard the calls of the stag and our guide saw the Barking-Deer (all three of us missed it). We met people who were repairing the road and they told us they had seen a bison few hundred meters from where they were working few minutes back. We made our way quickly to the place of the sighting, but no bison was to be seen. Through the trek we could see the paw-prints of many chital, stag, bison, and a leopard family. But that was the extent of the sighting, only the trails left behind. We completed the 15 km trek in about 5 hrs. Our jeep awaited us at the end of the trail. The lunch did prove to us that Cricket is indeed a religion in India. In places where there were no telephones, every house in the village of around 200 people had Dish TV installed. We were having lunch in one of the houses in the village, and the small room apart from being a host to us, was seating 5-6 more people all glued to the idiot box where the Pakistani bowlers were bowling to the Indian openers. Every shot, every ball was analyzed comprehensively. The lunch done, we went for our last safari through the jungle. The bison were now normal to us; we wanted to see a tiger. The bison we did see, but what we heard was the call of the hunting tiger. I have never heard anything as scary and as strange as that. It sounded like someone is in extreme pain, and trying to scream but unable to do so. The guide was scared on hearing the call and asked us to leave the place as soon as possible. Coming between the tiger and its prey could be nothing short of being extremely foolish. Even though we wanted to wait, the guide insisted on leaving the place. We listened to him and left the place immediately.

That was the end of the trip. I would term Melghat as a combination of a forest and a hill station. The hilly terrain makes it really difficult to spot the animals. But I would love to go back there in April during Buddha Purnima. That time the census takes place and you are left in the middle of the jungle with a guide and forest official for the night. Our guide told us that in this year’s census he had counted nearly 80 animals in one night. I’d surely love to go back that time

Technorati: Melghat, Melghat Reserve Forest, Travelogue