May 10, 2008 at 2:05 am · Filed under personal, photoblog
1940 HRS. The 37 degrees that the pilot promised prompted me to lose the jacketlike Provogue I wore over a thin, white cotton t-shirt. A hint of perspiration as I step out, for the first time in sixteen years, to meet the sultry capital. A huge airport, with lovely conveyor belts, excellent displays, and announcements going off in Hindi and English as opposed to the Kannada I am accustomed to. The baggage arrives on time, the support staff smiles, and even before you leave the airport, the city’s already invited you.
We drive out of the airport right into the road to Gurgaon and then to the central part of town. The roads are well lit, and I’m surprised at the lane-discipline being observed. Even more surprised to note that each and every driver out there has strapped his seat-belt. The traffic crawls like it does in the city I belong to, but it’s organized. Civilized. Back home in Bangalore, a four-wheeler will manufacture space meant for a two-wheeler in the midst of the winding snake of vehicles, and even as that happens, a rickshaw quietly sneaks in that one moment of driving genius or bastardisation, depending on which vehicle you’re sitting in. None of it here.
We’re now driving to the center, or should I say, The Center. Soon, buildings that otherwise seduced me in Bollywood reruns start to appear. Rashtrapathi Bhavan. The Parliament. Buildings I can’t put a name to. And then, finally, there it stands. India Gate, lit at night, rekindling memories of a certain Rakeysh Mehra movie that changed the way I think forever. And as the national strength of the nation carved into the structure looks at me, the goose bumps arrive. But the lights go out before I can click a snap, and though the gate now lurks in the dark concealing the pride in the night, the goose bumps refuse to leave.
Where the patriot met his nation. And when she smiled back at him, flaunting her grace, her might, and her beauty. And when he fell in love with her. Again.
Delhi, tonight.
September 29, 2007 at 10:32 am · Filed under bangalore, personal, photoblog
05.00 am - I arrive at the Chinnaswamy Stadium - Gate 11 - to purchase tickets (they were being sold at Gate 1, the distance between them, about a kilometer).
There are around 600 people in front of me. Some were sleeping against the same wall others urinate on. Most of them didn’t look like they would come for the match anyway, probably spending the night to make a quick buck on the ticket. Some die-hard fans had come in the tricolor as if it were the match itself.
06.00 am - There’s a bit of a buzz now, and there’s a guy who’s arrived there to sell coffee and some snacks. He doesn’t change his price. People are grateful for a cup of warm, blessed coffee on a chilly Bangalore morning. The cops have finished their drills and are now lining people up.
07.00 am - The first signs of trouble break out. People who tried to sneak into the queues were first talked at, then shoved away. Not a single soul kept mum on the incident. This was more than just a queue. A passer-by would think that our lives depended on it.
Speaking of morning joggers, a rather awkward looking firang who can’t keep his head straight runs about. He gives a quizzical look, almost as if he hasn’t seen many brown people together before. He asks the cops about it. The cop replies and Mr. French still has one clarification. ‘What is cricket?’
The queue is stunned.
08.00 am - They are already selling tickets at the other counters. And they merged my queue with the 200 buck one. Guess what? Did I mention 600? There are about 1500 ahead of me now, easily, after the merger. Crap. A TV9 reporter and a cameraman arrive at the scene. The media is capable of anything. The reporter is dramatizing it as if we were the crowd outside Shaheed Bhagat Singh’s execution, although in numbers, we did give that crowd a run for their money.
09.00 am - Our ticket-counter opens, mercifully, and the queue starts crawling. Based on initial calculations, by the time we get our tickets, it would be about 12 noon. I can’t wait that long. I started looking around for people.
10.00 am - A ‘friend’ walks by, suggesting that he had an extra ticket. I made the purchase, he made his profit, and I drove to work with a ticket in the pocket and a sense of satisfaction all inside of me.
Later, I found out, 30000 tickets in 3 hours.
Why all the trouble? Simple - there are a few things in life that I would go through all this for, even daily, if needed. The crisp smell of the turf. The spirit of cricket all around me. The warmth of our country’s people all around me. And an environment where people forget their race, religion and culture, and simply pour into the stands like rivers of passion to cheer for their home team.
All roads in this part of the world lead to only one place today. India take on the might of the Oz at Bangalore, in a few hours from now.
The Chinnaswamy wicket always had a bit of grass on it. Wickets will be there for the taking. Expect a good battle between bat and ball.
I shall make the move right away as the KSCA have oversold. Ciao. Match on.
July 30, 2007 at 2:49 pm · Filed under bangalore, photoblog
IIM is quite some distance away from home sweet home.
And yours truly pushed the auto to the max it can go. That’s a fare-and-a-half and a very happy rickwaala.
Imagine what the fare would be on the endurance.
