Kerala Cricket League

From not knowing the difference between a bat and a ball to the team manager of Idukki Icons, a team participating in the Kerala Cricket League, a part of Hit 967's station activity, was, if nothing else...exciting.

Especially because Idukki Team had no members and not many were anxious to play for Idukki, seeing that, in the last years match, Idukki suffered a 'stunning' defeat! So, in other words, I sort of inherited a "sick" team. Oh, I did have a co-manager to manage the team, meaning selection and stuff, but Jasim, like me, was not cricket-savvy!

But we plodded on, set up online applications, on-air promotions, word of mouth...and finally, managed to shortlist few.

Then came the day when we actually had to finalise the 12 who would go on to play at the KCL.

Early morning

It has been very long since I woke up at 4.30, made a dash for my car without brushing my teeth or hair, sleep not yet out of my eyes, in my sleeping clothes....to welcome the morning in the desert....

Today, after long, I ended my daze! Woke up at 4.30 and grabbed my camera...and ran to my car before I changed my mind. Good chance to experiment with the manual functioning of my new Canon, I thought happily, as I drove, windows down, towards the Hatta Road. No traffic, no cops and no risk of beingf run over, I stopped over the bridge that connects Oud Mehta Road to the Business Bay and fiddled with my camera...well, the long and short is that I am still pretty bad with the manual shoots, so I made up with few auto-shots of cars racing on the Garhoud Road and the dim skyline of Dubai...the joy of being able to stop in the middle fo the road and being hauled up for it is enough adrenaline....so, the coffee I grabbed at the Emarat (along with a cheese croissant0 tasted YUM.

But, but...but then I realised there were others like me and had always been, early risers, rushing to the desert or a long drive, sleep forgotten, intent o grabbing a bit of activity before the sun came up and destroyed all hopes of a long drive...

At once I felt one with all....long ago, I was a part of this morning, every Friday and Saturday, greeted bikers all geared up for their mountain biking, off-roaders getting their act together for their for their dare-devilry on the sands...I was a glad to be of the morning again.....

Life is good.....

A gamble of fate?

How often does it happen that a picture from the tube transforms into a human form and endears itself to you?

Always? Sometimes? Never?

If this were a gamble, the stakes would favour the last: But I am not a gambler, so I can only say that what happened to me was one of nature’s finest strokes!

But I am not averse to asking questions, to myself. So I asked. Why?Two strangers who would never have met…not by any stroke of luck; both being different from each other as chalk and cheese, each one not seemingly related to the other through language, or profession. One an Icon and the other The Wind. Icons are not made of lighter stuff, unlike the wind…Don’t know what drew them together. Did the wind seep through the perforations in the icon or was it the icon that wanted a breath of fresh air? Hard to say, but clearly something happened.

Was it the eyes that held my attention or was it something else? What was it that I first noticed?

Seatbelt

Today, for the first time in years, I felt as though I was falling…even seated at my desk I wish I was wearing a seatbelt….

Sand in my hair

Warm night, warm sands, stars peering through cloudy skies, a strange feeling mingled with a growing sense of excitement, fear…and silence…was this dream or was it real? The voice…the voice? Was it the voice that first held my attention? Or was it something else? No, it couldn’t have been anything else…it had to be the voice…soft, endearing, caressing, cajoling, demanding…it had everything needed to transform my life, forever.

It did.

Now, even darkness is not the same.

If I need a reminder, all I have to do is run my fingers through my hair. The sand tells a different story....

Hero worship

Everyone has a hero they worship. An actor or singer, a player...I had one...now I have two.
The nicest thing about both of them are they belong to a section of the film industry I know nothing about. Malayalam.

My association with Malayalam is deep, but unexplored, so I can say NIL. Especially when it comes to Malayalam films and music. Lately, I can say, about 4 years ago, my association with Malayalam and Malayalees changed. But that's another story.

My first Malayalam hero was Mohanlal. I have tried to watch as many films of his as I can, understanding little, but enjoying seeing him on screen.

Then, one day, few moths ago, I first saw an episode of Idea Star Singer. It is a TV show (for those who dont know) on Asianet, a very popular Malayalam station. Its a bit like American Idol, searching for the perfect voice. The stakes are big, the singers talented and the judges...sharp, critical and FAIR.

There are four judges, three of them on the permanent panel and one, a guest. The permanent judges are singers par excellence, masters in their field, with their own massive fan following.

..................................

When I saw him on screen, sitting in judgement, I thought just what was going on in his mind when called upon to make a decision. I couldnt understand, because I am not an expert in music and Malayalam songs didnt mean too much. Yes, I liked the melody, I liked the rythm and over the days, I did get to like it a lot more, though I couldnt sing along as yet.

But, watching Idea Star Singer over the days, I did develop a special interest in the singers and soon I could put names to faces and recall which film they had sung for. Yes, I was getting there...slowly, steadily.

Then one day, I saw him.

He was a guest at the 4th Gulf Malayalees Music Awards. I was at the event for different reasons. I was doubling up as a photographer in the absense of one...

When I first saw him, what stuck me first was his simplicity. I surely must have sounded rather dumb when I walked up to him and said hello...I also remember making sure that I told him I wasnt familiar with the Malayalam music industry crowd and if made a mistake in identifying people correctly, I wanted to be excused.

His answer came in a smile. Here was a celebrity who was not really concerned that someone could get his name wrong! (I always thought celebrities had a halo)

Over the next few hours, through the show, I met him several times. We spoke. I dont know how, but our talks started off with books. He loved Shashi Tharoor, I hadnt read any of the books he mentioned. He loved traveling and didnt find time, and I was always looking for time to travel. He told me things about Indonesia I hadnt heard or seen when I was last there.

He was a bank of knowledge. He had a unique style, a poise I hadnt seen in many celebrities before. To me suddenly, more than a celebrity singer, he was a comrade. I was happy to ignore my duty just to sit and chat with him, share a thought, a joke, discuss books and places...In fact, for once, I was glad just to have attended the event.

For, there I found something special.

A friend. His name, as you may have guessed is Venugopal.

I dont mind that I had to stay hungry...dont usppose he knows this...and I suppose I would do it again if I had the chance...and am glad I gave him the last and the only remaining burger!!!

Calender

10/04/2007


On my table is a picture of a Toy Train. In the background are the Himalayan Mountains with a brief stretch of snow reflecting the pale sunlight. The engine spews smoke, thick and black right into the cool air and a few trees alongside the narrow guage are just begining to look cheerful...that or it is a damned rotten picture.

But the month of April of 2007 has a picture on the calender that I cherish. The Himalayan Toy Train, with its three blue coaches and a cooing engine have just made their way past the Loop before descending into the valley of Darjeeling below. It brings back cheerful memories.

On the calender are dates and among my favourite pass-times is ticking off days. I cannot say why it is so important for me to tick off dates or when I started this habit, but of late it has begun to show. On one side of the neat rows of dates are the date of every Mondays of the month. That is circled for some reason. Then there are the Saturdays and Thursdays, each having their importance...

Then there is the big circle that encloses all these individual dates. Sometimes I am terribly thrilled when the month passes by and quietly slips into another...I get to change the picture on the calender with much expectations. Sometimes, that very act brings in a fear...time is passing. I guess all of us do feel that way. I feel that seeing into the calender and realising how fst time is flying, one wouldnt be caught by surprise. I would like to be cheerfully aware that am an year older when my brithday comes or that of my nephews or friends...I should hate to be left behind with the times...

Then again, it leaves me with a sense of brooding. Where is time going? Where is it leading to? Or will it lead to anything at all?

I marvel at the days, the dates, the picture, the time...its all part of a grand scheme of things one likes to call "LIFE".

Surely it will bring change? For that is about the only constant factor I have noticed in the passing of each month.