More than a game

A terrific in swinging Yorker ripped the middle stump off!  A stout fifteen year old with bushy hair danced through the twenty two yards being amazed at his own delivery. He wasn’t a big match player or a professional. It was out of pure love and dedication that he played this game. Every week he made it sure to find gaps between tuitions to play the game he loved. Full hand or short hand didn’t matter to him. With equal ease he could nudge a top spinner to a nearby wall at “one drop” (as direct hit was out) and place an out swinger past the point fielder to the ropes. It wasn’t that he neglected his studies and played all day, he was pretty decent at his studies too!
Everyone in his locality was accustomed to the sight of a boy dashing past main road with a bat in his hand whilst wearing his school uniform (as he didn’t get time to change his clothes). All the recent matches and proceedings were absolutely committed to his memory. He was like any other Indian kid, foolish enough to dream of playing in the Indian cricket team. Every time when any one senior to him jeered at him for being so naive, he used to console himself that his ambition was concrete and he wouldn’t let it go at any cost. The Little innocent guy would practice in front of the TV set and would watch the practice sessions at a nearby ground in awe. If only he could be there!
There was this underlying desire in him to join the coaching classes and perfect his techniques. But this is India, and these kinds of options are deemed as immature choices, so curtains were drawn on his dreams of going to the holy coaching centres and master those slower balls!
Nothing could dampen his spirits; he continued to play with the same love that he had previously and enjoyed what he did. But deep down the lines, he felt that something was missing from somewhere, something wasn’t complete……..
Slowly but steadily he came to know that the kid in him was actually foolish. He was foolish enough to change the world, as he didn’t know so much about the so called “harsh realities of life” But, the Steve Jobs in him died as he grew up to be a sensible person dealing only in academics.
Another terrific in swinging Yorker ripped the middle stump off!  !  A stout twenty five year old with bushy hair danced through the twenty two yards being amazed at his own delivery. He was a big match player and a professional. The whole stadium rose to their feet to acknowledge the bowler’s efforts,
So did our guy, a bespectacled, burly man with his son on his shoulders and wife beside him screamed at the top of his voice!
Sometimes when he sits at his posh office chamber and looks on and green meadows brightened by the sunlight, that stout and enthusiastic teenager comes to his mind, he sees him running about in field, warming up for his next delivery, maybe in that world he had made it to the national team!
Who knows!
That makes him want to play again 

thank you for reading!

INDIyeAh(the second)



Before rolling your eye balls down let me take the opportunity to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year in advance.

You probably have read my earlier take on Diwali…

This is quite the same.. On Christmas!




Bengal has an extremely strange relationship with the British past. It’s something that has gotten ingrained in our society due to its long impact.


Christmas is one of those times when the “Britisssar” in a bong comes to the fore. The subtle images of sitting by the fireplace slurping your tea and feasting on your cake takes a heavy toll of the minds of the people.

Nowhere in India is Christmas celebrated with so much joy and gusto as it’s done in Kolkata, it’s the living and breathing proof that secularism in India is still possible.


Every corner of the roads are lit up with “tuni” bulbs winking at each other, there is really no need to transform Kolkata into London as it almost feels like it!


Wonder Why?

The very city was created by them! The edifices of the aging monuments sans the maintenance provide quite a London like feel.

The festival in Kolkata not purely Christian as the tradition of having cakes in the “bada din” is of long ago. The inventories of the shops are nearly sold out by the day of Christmas. Some people during this time behave as if their breakfast is flown away straight from 10th Downing Street! “I buy cakes from FLURYs only…. that taste and texture…. can’t be matched!!!” I mean seriously? These are the same people who shriek at the very thought of ordering a desert whilst at a restaurant.


Truth be spoken, I feel pity for the shopkeepers who got to remember the complex “Dundee’s” and “Black forests”. Throughout the year they sell “amar cake and tomar cake” and the sudden invasion of a “Swissyum fruit delight” causes much discomfort.


The St.Paul’s Cathedral at the stroke of Christmas is jam-packed for the midnight mass which is broadcasted live on doordarshan bangla. Now, that’s one of the very few days when this channel gets some TRP. I mean really.. Who says…. “Damn! I missed the last episode of Mungerilal ke haseen sapne!”

The Riverside campus at Belur is magnificently decorated during this time! The bushes are trimmed to be shaped as giant Christmas trees while little chrysanthemums act as stars. A quite interesting fact is that the prayer hall of the Ramakrishna Mission remains packed as much as the St.Paul’s Cathedral.christmas_belurmath_2006 (7).jpg

People from the high society indulge in various social gatherings. Homes of people are decorated with Christmas trees often by people who have absolutely no clue what the hell is going on! So, why are they doing it? The answer is pretty simple..because the so called “phor-e-ners “do it! And people so badly want to be like them. Luncheon meetings are organised by the Tollygunge club. The setting here screams P.G Wodehouse. The men and women with their dresses outrageous enough to make the people attending the Wimbledon blush don these events! They are the “BABU’s” of Bankimchandra in all aspects.


Thats pretty much what i had in mind. Its so boring that you might even fall asleep and find its New Year already on waking up!







Everything was very still that day, so still, that even a lark wouldn’t feel  free. Birds  weren’t chirping, wind wasn’t blowing. Even the living was non-living.
A small boy woke from his sleep, a strange figure intrigued him, it was looking straight at him but he couldn’t draw any conclusions about what it might be. No one could blame him actually, the poor fellow had just got his vision back. Just after his birth he had suffered a major accident which had affected his eyesight. He is used to sounds, but sights  isn’t really his strong suit. Even after looking very hard, he was left clueless.
What can that thing be?
It looked so odd, it didn’t have wings, or a third eye! How dull! “Fairies are way cooler he thought!”
“Thoughts” that’s all he had till this day, thoughts and sounds played into his little dark mind.  He was very disappointed as this oblong creature had just bought an entire plot in his Mindsville. It was so boring and lifeless.
Just then he heard his door click and that creature also looked away, strange. It sounded like mommy, and it was.  She hugged him as she saw her seeing him. “What’s that strange thing maa?” he asked pointing  towards that creature.
“Mirror…..”she replied.

thank you for reading!


Richard Bucks, an accountant of some repute stepped into the café. At an instant, he became the subject of meticulous scanning by the passersby. Not paying any heed he walked straight to the counter and ordered a cuppa of cappuccino, the large one.Having adjusted his Armani suit, he placed his Gucci handbag on a table placed nearby and started to fiddle with his i-Phone 6s. When his order arrived, he accepted it with a professional smile.

After such a glamorous display, what would everyone expect? That this bigshot Bucks would  sip on with an authority whilst showing all his bells and whistles off?
You also expected that, didn’t you?

But, what followed, is quite on the contrary which had people again staring at him after they had finished chatting about his “black-money”. Mr.Bucks jotted down the aisle and handed the cuppa over to a destitute who was shivering with cold at the roadside.

So, everyone would expect a typical moral of the story after such a clichéd point of view. So, here it is!

Simplicity can be attained inspite of owning all kinds of gizmos.
Everything depends on the “insides” and the “insights” of a man.

thank you for reading!