God’s invitation, hot and sweaty summer afternoon, swaying landscapes under the breathing sun, mobile lunch and lots of memories packed. Blazing bliss.
Independence Day
Independence in real sense – devoid of ego, conditional acceptance, broader visibility of thoughts, attitude out of vehemence, abolish imminent taboos, respect for individual sans caste creed and religion. Indeed, happy independence.
nostalgic gulp
Long time, old times.
brightness dug deep
Behind every coronary architecture, lights and brightness will manage to creep through despite standing barriers. Intangible bliss.
petal joy
They are jewellery to God and goddesses, women adore them and men like to smell them. Seldom will you see such fragrance together in a sea of colours. Festive platter.
passing blue
Sometimes and at most times, the best of scenic bonjour is confined outside our urban vendetta. Flying high, with poise and painted with blue.
Demise of a Legacy
Yes, It died long back. But, every time I see a West Indies collapse and the repercussions of ‘The Fall of Giants’ does the round in a vehement bout of passion and cricketing folklore.
As India trounced the Windies in their backyard in the ongoing series, I withstood a gamut of emotions and cricketing history that’s embedded in a sorry state of affairs. Yes, I am particularly impressed with the way India has scored a thumping victory under the KK leadership – Kohli and Kumble. But at the same time, I see how devastated Cricket stands in the islands of the Caribbean.
Yes, I keep reinstating that I believe in legacy. Legacy is an opportunity to keep your glory days alive and withstand the sheer passion – as an individual and as a country to relive the memories of astounding feats and exploits of a superpower. Sadly, West Indies have lost both. I am not ready to believe that the current crop of players and administration don’t know their history – 2 big men were part of the mighty West Indies, way back then and I can see their heads sever in shame. Joel Garner and Courtney Walsh. Apparently, the last test match was played on Viv Richards turf – his expression of agony and reparation was inconveniently visible in his statement to Telegraph after the Indian victory.
Let’s have a massive throwback. In the 60s and 70s, England and Australia were pepping up with some serious fast bowling. Fast bowling with real pace. I vividly remember couple of videos from the fast bowling machines of the era and it will gives you a riveting display of what the batsman had to encounter those days. West Indies stuck venom with their ‘Fearsome Foursome’ and fast bowling was never the same gain. Spells from Jeff Thomson and Michael Holding will make the fast bowlers of our generation look like kindergarten – with all due respect, we must admit that quality fast bowling has seen dispersing decline over the years.
A mere look at the West Indies line up in the 70s and 80s will tell us why they were masters of the game. The bandwagon opens up with Haynes and Greenidge, you luckily dismiss them and you will see Llyod and Viv Richards follow through. Jeff Dujon could keep and bat as well, that makes him an allrounder. The bowling department is handled by Andy Roberts, Joel Garner, Michael Holding and Malcolm Marshall. A god send team with phenomenal abilities. A team that could post imposing totals, chase herculean scores and take 20 wickets in a test match consistently. Individual brilliance, yes. But, it was a menacing team that ran havoc for more than 15 years in world cricket. Remember, I am not even talking about the Sobers era, phew!
Even in the days of Lara led Windies, they still possessed a valuable team but never had the steel to win matches or even come close to what their predecessors achieved in 2 decades.
The decline of West Indies is largely attributed to multiple factors. Legacy needs to be nourished and bought up by able hands. West Indies came a cropper as they decided to bask in their undisputed glory but failed to build an empire on their imperious past. Plus, their problems with the administration and governance have only multiplied. Despite former greats like Clive Llyod, Richie Richardson and Joel Garner at the helm, motivation levels have been a pale shadow of what the West Indies were known for.
‘Fire in Babylon’, the docu-drama on the mighty West Indies story is a revelation. When the world was battling issues on racism and dominance in a paranoia of diverse communities, West Indies and Cricket were a lethal combination. Their dominance over the game came from 2 factors – discrimination and passion. It tells a poignant story of perhaps the greatest fall from glory in any team sport in the world. It’s a pity that West Indies now only have their T20 victories and IPL exploits to rave about.
I am not sure if West Indies will ever redeem even a semblance of their glory days. But their story and subsequent fall from grace is a lesson for other teams. Times change, teams change, game changes but passion can never die. Passion is human and sports is all about human resilience. Yes, we like our teams to win but we equally admire a team that goes down fighting like a wounded lion hungry for glory.
for the weekend lovers
The 2 tall ones are Saturday and Sunday, the tower is Monday. See, I told you guys. Monday always has a ‘towering’ presence.
seeing through I
sometimes, am just benevolent but retrospective about what would have gone through if I didn’t do what I did to be in the place where I am today. This is how it would look – a far cry with a twisted turn and lush landscapes.
the imperfect shot, almost.
Yes, was caught up in indigenous patents – significant and sometimes, not so much. But couldn’t resist this view – the packet loss sky, fluttering leaves out of the scattered haven, a hungry highway with bustling moves, the fading lights of a promising evening under the blue carpet. All yours, for today.
inner verses
Beneath waters, under it. Holy shrine and its ubiquitous errand of godly flavours. Look around, you don’t see nobody. Yes, you see yourself in a splatter of thoughts and grievances. Think, you aren’t here for the missed substance. You are here to attain the soul of immortals.
Sanity, here I come and bestow upon you. Embrace me, as if I was inside you and I see you as my nemesis of floral darkness.
filming and feeling real
Notting Hill is one of the most sublime and exuberant love stories of our times. Truly, isn’t it? Well, I watched it years back but watching it again and again isn’t a crime.
Think about this, you falling in love with an actress who comes to purchase a book from the most boring book shop in London and ends up in your bed as you spill cappuccino over her slickly dressed attire in your jolly good neighbourhood street. Yes, you can fantasize about such encounters and we often dismiss such aberrations as creative foolishness of a novice head. But Notting Hill is a reminder to say that such impossible stories can happen. It doesn’t say it will happen but such is the paradox of life that magic could just be around the corner without you blinking an eye for its oblivious and cheeky presence. Doesn’t matter if you don’t manage an actress as your lover or wife, but you would have borrowed a love story of a lifetime. For your life.
My enchantment of ‘Notting Hill – The Movie’ extended many years later when I visited ‘Notting Hill – The Neighborhood’ in London last year. It gave me this vivacious feeling that my stay in London was incomplete without paying a drop in the streets of Notting Hill. Nothing came close to the film but the inspiration of a cajoling and middle class neighborhood in London was the dazzling leaflet of the day.
@Lifeoholic 