Greatness. The ultimate prize of invaluable proportions..

When a legend talks, you realise that his legacy was not an outcome of yet another robust yet hard working day; it was a result of blood and sweat that lasted over a lifetime.

When a legend talks, his speech has charisma and the way of his expressions exude panache. Those reverberating words of wisdom, the ability to relate themselves to their roots and how their beginning was a struggle as it is for every pedestrian individual we come across during our mundane tenure in life is an absolute treat to hear and decipher.

When a legend talks, it’s very easy to have him/her dismissed by tagging him to statements such as ‘talent came easily to you’ or ‘you never had to work as hard as we had to’. I believe, those statements are the hallmark of hypocrites who cease to admit their flaws despite occurrences that suggest otherwise. I call them ‘dumb’.

When a legend talks, I don’t see a superstar. I see a human being who had the balls to challenge his abilities in every platform of life and came up trumps. He treated obstacles with disdain and accepted his nemesis as his warrior who led him to those impeccable doors of divine existence.

When a legend talks, I see a person who knows his strengths like the back of his palm and understands blemishes like any other human would. Moreover, acceptance and audacity are their watch words and they continue to do what they are best in doing. Excel. Experiment. Evolve.

When a legend talks, humility is his biggest possession and tears define his persona behind the larger-than-life image that is depicted to this sane world of insane inhabitants.

When a legend talks, I listen. I admire. I get inspired.

Enthiran – A robotic experience minus the class of Rajnikanth

Celluloid for me is separated by two visibly contagious stimuli: individuals who deliver powerhouse performances consistently to rank amongst the most versatile of their era; the second section belongs to those ethereal superstars who inspire generations with their larger than life persona and their charismatic exploits that keep the crowd glued to the screen for eternity.

Rajnikanth for me, belongs to the latter. But to my mounted dismay, Shankar has deprived the legendary star of his own charm by instilling life in to a robot that dismantles every little thing on it’s way to attain the status of being immortal. Alas! The director has lost the entire plot to a gamut of technicians who made Hollywood proud. But two entirely different cultures cannot be intermingled without a context in place. Ah.. That reminds me to state this blockbuster has none of it. For me, it was a three hour ordeal of dealing with plethora of mangled machines that are on the rampage to prove a point. Whose point and which point of it made sense is a question which is best to be left unanswered, strictly for the benefit of those who understand the sole meaning of entertainment.

Face it, ‘Enthiran’ lacks the fervour of a superstar material and has stolen the charm of a man who self inflicting gimmicks and unbelievable yet mind-blowing antics have enthralled the audiences for over 3 decades. The script was intentionally lost, I am still wandering for a semblance of a storyline and.. lets not get even close to what is known as ‘Screenplay’. This flick is a planned and sophisticated sequel from the replication stable of some of the finest technicians in this world who created gems like ‘Terminator’ and ‘Jurassic Park’. Well, am I suppose to draft a comparison chart here? Not worth it. Neither am I taking sides. It’s just that I am wondering what caught Shankar to create this techie junkie when we could have done so much better in terms of offering an intended magnum opus.

The first half was tolerable but what followed post interval was catastrophic. Shankar lost it big time and didn’t know how to end something that he started off with a whimper. The only moments when I felt that I was indeed watching a Rajnikanth film was when the self proclaimed robot turns anti with feelings for his creator’s girl and comes out fuming for vengeance; those were still glimpses of the superstar I came to see on screen but was a pale shadow of his self.

It is a universal notion that you leave your brains behind and not search for logic when you are watching a Rajnikanth film. I sold my brains, locked them off and set out in search of the man whose popularity has always eluded my sane comprehension. Next time, I would leave my eyes behind, for I need not sell my expectations for an offering that has all the makings of a dud written all over it. It will probably have all the stakeholders ecstatic for the returns (by all means, it still makes a lot of money!!), but I am frantically looking for the superstar we all knew.

Inception – When dreams could be so menacing..

“Matt Davis (fictitious yet a possible derivation of the sub conscious mind) steals thoughts from the sub conscious mind of human beings; he portrays relevancy in depicting people as the primary protagonist to manipulate and conquer the variations inside the human brain. His is a fling to portray a world very different from our hemisphere but still remains vindicated within our sub conscious fragility. There are rules; and very prolific. The theory that our sub conscious mind is more diligent than our conscious one is bought to the fore; we only utilize 10% of our thoughtful and sedate human brain; that’s when we are awake. When we are asleep, our sub conscious allows us to peek in to a world that challenges our intellect and devours the very existence of human contingencies.

The protagonist cannot design the dreams himself to accomplish the task as his inherent intentions would intervene; he hires another exponent with similar or better expertise to set the platform and follows the same for his foundation to achieve the impossible. Build your dreams based on perception but owes never to bring in memories that would thrive to demolish the paranormal injunction of his own. Sedatives are used to introduce layers within a dream, wherein the hunter becomes the hunted; and the hunted becomes a host of his own creation. The concept of ‘Limbo’ suggests that we can spend infinite number of hours, weeks and years within the dream, if we defeat our own purpose of being existent within multiple layers. In simple words, the dream then becomes your reality. There are subjugate characters and all of them are in aid and awe of the protagonist’s conviction to extract the desired from the sub conscious of his subjects.”

Well. if this introduction was a bit too much for you, then ‘Christopher Nolan’ would always stun with you with something better. ‘ Inception’ does exactly the recommended. One of the finest exhibitions of the human existence behind the inimitable layers of our versatile human brain has been showcased with elan; the experience sums it up when ‘Adriane’ exclaims: “I am sorry but whose sub conscious mind are we getting in to..??”. That statement is a major jolt for all of those miniature movie goers whose sole intention is to grab those fluffy popcorn packets and settle down for a cozy evening in front of a multiplex screen. Nolan’s ‘Dark Knight’ was a pale shadow of his earlier works (Memento) but still was a notch higher when compared to other ‘Batman’ flicks. With ‘Inception’, Nolan is back with a bang.

Oops! I think my sub conscious mind is scripting this experience of watching a rare gem at our doorsteps; mark my words, mortals would still prefer to live with their conscious inhabitants in peace.

If at all we could think..!!??

I was passing through my routine exploration of this enigmatic planet when I came across a fact forgotten by our vehement statisticians who love to dissipate facts from fiction in a glorious manner ; this one was good enough to have me surprised and stunned at the same frame.

How many of us realize the roots of the most adorable words chanted so passionately by every individual in our country?

sāre jahān se acchā hindostān hamārā
ham bulbulain hai is ki, yeh gulsitān hamārā

Those eternal phrases have been a part of our mundane lives ever since we were born; taught by parents, instilled by teachers and provoked by many as the anthem of a patriotic who lives to die for his proverbial nation.
Sounds very very encouraging; but have we ever sat to discuss about our roots? Are we at all interested to know where we hail from? Raving about our laurels and battles won on a 15th August would never proclaim us on the map of patriotism (Please read positively as: Fanatics).

The legendary words are extracted from Alama Mohammed Iqbal’s (authentically familiar to this world as Alama Iqbal: One of the greatest and ultimate pioneers of the Islamic community in India) poem, which has unofficially become our country’s national anthem. Those words are uttered by our luminaries at celebrated occasions to depict the face of ‘India’; orators, authors and governments utilize it as an aid to establish the country in a turmoil of acute adversity.

Yet, how many of us are aware of this awesome piece of crucial fact? Oblivion is the word I could use in this scenario of atonement. Do we all realize where we come from? And do we also realize that the soup we are in from a cultural and socio-economic perspective is so self cultivated? Our mirrors are shattered, yet we take immense pride in declaring our images as blemish-less.

The mere greed of nepotism and superficial status has led to the current state of affairs; roots and legacy have taken a back seat. Ignorance and cruel value system has taken center-stage.

Any clue where we are heading towards?? Do we have a vision to progress or are we merely taking all the brilliance of our generations towards a world of nullified galaxies?

I am worried; sorry, I am not. I am famished for a reason to fight and conquer battlefields.

The day ‘Ambur’ took us for a ride..

2nd August 2010

Disclaimer:
All characters in this script are inquisitive, alive and notorious. Any
resemblances to real life characters are to be taken in the healthiest of
stride with a sense of realism.

Principal star cast:

Guruprakash Sampathkumar
Santosh Kumar M
Ather Basha

A conspicuously tiny ride to one of the most imperious leather-beds amidst the
surrogate areas of Chennai was nothing short of a delightful endeavor.

Phase I:
If something irks me to the core, that has to be a date with Mr. Sun very early
in the morning. And today was one such day when my luxuries were at stake;
probably the very sane impression of the aftermath got me going and we (Me
& Guru) boarded the train with an excitement of an eight year old. A
cherubic encounter with the ‘Ticketing Inspector’ notwithstanding, ours was a
journey of candid conversational snapshots (we were occasionally considered to
be lost as both us were deprived of some valuable sleep). As the destination
drew nearer, the hunger reached the pinnacle.

Phase II:
After a ride that lasted close to three hours, Ather was sweet enough to pick 2
hungry bellies and lead us to a place of sanity. After a filling breakfast, we
proceeded towards the first place of interest by the means of mere etiquette:
The host’s residence. After an intended pause, we gathered ourselves to embark
on a journey that could invoke ecstasy. The transport was arranged keeping our
schedule and the associated zing attached to it. The gradual process
reverberated in to an ode of exhibiting our delirious purchasing power as we
pounced on those veritable outlets to grab our paid souvenirs. The more we saw,
the more we kindled; this activity became painstakingly impressive until the
face of few merchandise cultivated our frivolous thoughts in to refined
grassroots. Our rapport with the stores were a situation of envy; Guru was in
to his own as monologues became dialogues and I became so self indulgent which
instigated me to remind myself that at the end of the day, we were just
customers who had that uncanny knack of overruling their opponents (Read:
Shopkeepers
). And you can quite imagine the show when protagonists on
either side become family. They sold products and we bought elation home.

Phase III:
Stating that the lunch was incredible could be considered as an understatement
of minuscule capacity; we were placed at the unattainable heights of suave
hospitality. Their graceful gestures blew us apart; and we were derailed from
our usual spate of consuming talks. ‘Thank you Ather & Family!’

Summarizing this experience could be a cheeky task; I had a whale of a time,
thanks to Guru and his plan of making this outing happen in such a fashion; I
truly believe that a journey is special, not due to the destined location but
for the brilliant company that you are able to garner for yourself. Today was
one such occasion when the camaraderie was just perfect. We were subjected to
some of the finest consumer products in the recent past and treasuring those
memories would be in a fraternity of its own.

 

Lamhaa: A film by Rahul Dholakia – A sordid tale of battered souls

‘Kashmir’ isn’t about political turmoils anymore; it is a quicksand – the more your try to resolve and recuperate, the deeper you get sucked in to the bludgeon of fear, conspiracy and nepotism. ‘Welcome to the most dangerous place in India’ is a blatant statement with immense grit and dissipates humanity from religion. ‘Lamhaa’ is a film imbued in the gruesome stories woven around all those who are conspicuously attached to the bizarre series of events.

Rahul Dholakia has captured the streets of Kashmir in a nonchalant bliss; the camera moving around relentlessly to snap the oblivious is all so evident. There are numerous characters indulging in unscrupulous events and not to mention those who have been shamelessly raving about the freedom of Kashmir with the utmost of bravery and content. All the characters look sane; the intent is to make the viewers think otherwise. And I believe that to some extent, all this showcasing business is a ploy to diminish transparency and create an aura of peace and justice. The film is a documentation of the tyranny that has been vehemently imposed on the people of Kashmir since 1989. The two nations involved are credulous enough to admit that this is not a war to be fought; it’s a calamity that ceases to relinquish itself from the bane of ruthless administrators and politicians who claim Kashmir to be a ‘Company’, immersed in vested interests and insurmountable greed.

The director has shot the film with minimum paramedics and that gives a classy look to the entire set up. James Fowld’s cinematography is commendable; Kashmir still looks like a patch upgraded from an earlier version of heaven. For a film which is more of a biopic cum documentary, the editing is exemplary. The music is restrained; background score is effective in patches.

The performances make this film special. The principal characters get in to the skin and the outcome is quite credible. Sanjay Dutt, Bipasha Basu and Anupam Kher deliver with panache; Bipasha’s matured histrionics says a lot about the hard work she has invested in ‘Lamhaa’. Kunal Kapoor lacked the usual zest of a militant turned politician; his voice was a let down and has to work very hard if he has to bag such author backed roles in future. The supporting cast is a huge list; mostly on the impressive side.

The best aspect of ‘Lamhaa’ is that at no given point of time, does it aim at fulfilling the mundane criterion of complete resolution. The last 50 years could not see the face of emancipation; the vicious circle would continue to torment us for eternal years.

"Jannat-e-Kashmir, mujhe maaf kar de".

The soccer pinnacle at it’s invigorating best..

The triumph becomes an alluring aspect of the extraordinaire when the protagonists live up to the expectations of the underdogs.

The recently concluded ‘FIFA World Cup 2010’ had all those elements embedded in plenty. The Spanish juggernaut was irresistible as they impounded damage on the so called ‘indispensable’ to claim the title of world champions for the first time in history since the journey began way back in 1930.

The emotional content attached to a unanimous decision is imperative and the same was pretty much evident in this tourney of great battles; talent is not the only criteria that falls under the scanner of those lucrative eyes. The big stage is an epitome of perseverance, discipline and tenacity; the teams that showcase this quality consistently reach home with plenty to cheer.

A precarious introspection would tell you that legacy can never be taken for granted; a frivolous fanatic will always vouch for his team minus nuances and without analyzing the pros and cons of the odds he is facing. That, for me, is phenomenal patriotism at its stupid best. Take a look at this edition of the world cup that just ended in the African continent; you will comprehend my statements with elan.

South American powerhouses sank without a trace; all they possessed in this tournament was loads of talent, immense potential and staggering hype. But when it boiled down to performance during those impeccable 90 minutes of excruciating pressure, they faltered. I, like most of those lurking behind to cheer their teams of pure quality in terms of legacy and superstars, had to bite the dust for obvious reasons. And, I realize that my dream was bound to be short-lived amidst those dazzling performers with imperious intentions.

The world cup once again raised those inevitable eyebrows towards the famous notion that on the hindsight, the world cup is a mere replication of the far more impressive players who slog it out in their high profile clubs for a huge ransom. And these statistics loom large when the overly stated teams with towering expectations fail to live up to the expectations of the critiques.

All vigorous statements notwithstanding, the universal appeal of the world cup cannot be disputed. What you do in those 30 grueling days of glitz and ecstasy could prove magical or a disaster; can catapult you to the ultimate stardom or get you submerged within the realms of compounding darkness.

The yardstick is there for all of us, to experience, cherish and get enthralled.

Ravanan (Tamil Film) – A strong metaphor with finesse

I tend to exude towering expectations from Mani Ratnam, the maverick filmmaker and a phenomenal producer of acute congestive brains. ‘Ravanan’ lacks the usual punch of the master but still is a class act.

The staggering curiosity slowly waned away and honestly, it is probably the slowest starter of all MR films that I have seen so far. And this time, it’s not the script but the treatment of the entire subject that stood apart. Months before the date of release, the inevitable talks of the adaptation from our epic ‘Ramayana’ were selling like hot cakes and it indeed, is a hypothetical yet subjugate version of the mythological legend. I could sense pick ups from the life of the dangerous and inimitable Veerappan; a messiah out to save his portion of the zenith. I could visualize glimpses of Durga in RGV’s ‘Jungle’ (though technically both films are poles apart). The first half scrapes through like a wounded tortoise and gains momentum in the latter. Surprisingly and probably not to my utter bewilderment, most of the sequences between ‘Veera’ and ‘Ragini’ reminded me of Ghai’s commendable ‘Khalnayak’. The penultimate scene took the twist to a different spectrum and I liked the manner in which ‘Ragini’s’ character unfolded at the end.

Mani has a penchant for working with some of the finest talents our country possesses. And ‘Raavanan’ is no exception. Santosh Sivan’s photography (strongly aided by V Manikandan) is nothing short of a spectacle. Every frame describes patches of divinity and looks like SS is taking a stroll in the streets of paradise. Screenplay has been MR’s everlasting strength and he doesn’t disappoint. Samir Chanda’s art direction is commendable. Dialogues were ordinary and quite inane at times; being Mani Ratnam’s wife alone doesn’t provide Suhasini with the commanding credentials that a MR film actually demands. Editing could have been a touch better; probably it was an intentional periodical lapse by MR to depict a story woven from shreds of half baked characters. Music by ARR is haunting; the background score is tantalizing. The songs are chart busters; none grace the screen completely.

Let’s talk about performances. MR is known to derive the best from his casting crew. But this aspect was bit of a let down for me. Vikram as ‘Veera’ was impressive but not ruthless (as it was supposedly marketed); he is still showcased as human who falls for a beautiful married woman. Prithviraj was decent; his role of a police officer wandering with vengeance in mind was visible. Prabhu has a cameo as ‘Veera’s’ brother and excels convincingly; Karthik sizzles in his ‘Hanuman’ act and Priyamani is acceptable as ‘Veera’s’ sister. ‘Veera’s’ gang could have been punctuated with few accomplished actors; may be it was intended to be that way. Aishwarya Rai Bachhan as ‘Ragini’ was average. She cannot act and even Mani’s exemplary skills were not enough to make her histrionics look exquisite. She screeches through the chapters and ends with a whimper. She looks ravishing alright; I think Santosh Sivan can even make Lalita Pawar look like the most gorgeous woman on this planet earth, so let’s not dwell deep in to it.

I would have to watch the Hindi version to have my viewpoints substantiated.

‘Ravanan’ doesn’t rank amongst Mani’s superlative works till date. Neither does it qualify itself to be a masterpiece. But it is a visual incarnation of enormous magnitude and yet another courageous attempt to defy the nuances of a myth.

Raajneeti – A political saga sucked in to the realm of show business

Have you ever witnessed drama at the pinnacle of silver screen? If your answer is ‘No’, then ‘Raajneeti’ will fulfill your desire with aplomb.

The crux of the story evolves from ‘The Mahabharata’. And why not? ‘The Mahabharata’ is unarguably one of the greatest political potboilers that has ever surfaced in the face of planet earth and is widely acknowledged as the epic of all times. I saw major glimpses of ‘The Godfather’, especially in the second half where we have a la ‘Al Pacino’ in ‘Ranbir Kapoor’ (A comparison here would be debatable but it’s worth it). So, we are talking about a lethal combination with ingredients such as love, hate, lust, deceit, greed, envy, power and above all, money. Now you know, why ‘Raajneeti’ is so special to the viewers of tinsel town.

The biggest strength of ‘Raajneeti’ is it’s plot and treatment of the script. Even though few of those sequences were inevitably seen by all of us in plethora of classics churned in the elite history of cinema, the way ‘Prakash Jha’ has handled the entire base of the story with elan deserves special mention. And to top it all, he has a cast at his disposal which can give the best in the industry, a run for their money. When ‘Naseer’, ‘Nana‘, ‘Manoj Bajpai’ and ‘Ajay Devgan’ come together, the outcome can only be stupendous. ‘Naseer’ has a special appearance and lives up to it. ‘Nana’ is at his usual effortless self and is outstanding. ‘Ajay’s’ role is different and portrays a brooding character with utmost conviction. ‘Manoj Bajpai’ is terrific as the evil and self proclaimed heir of the dynasty. He comes very close of bettering his exploits as ‘Bhiku’ in ‘Satya’. For me, two actors impressed immensely (as others were expected to be sure shot winners), ‘Arjun Rampal’ as ‘Prithvi’ and ‘Ranbir Kapoor’ as the vivacious yet suave distant son. Both have probably given their best performances till date in their respective careers and this will certainly help them to attain greater heights. ‘Katrina’s’ efforts were explicitly visible and she doesn’t disappoint. I still felt that post-interval could have been 15-20 minutes less than what it was, but then ‘Jha’ was able to sustain and held it all together in what could be termed as one of the finest directorial efforts in the recent past.

‘Raajneeti’ deals with one of the most powerful and intriguing syndrome in the entire system of our country. But seldom has a film reached out to the contemporaries and the critics in such a flamboyant yet hard hitting fashion.

I detest politics but highly recommend ‘Raajneeti’!

Kites – Flies high with style and melodrama

A film by Anurag Basu always invokes curiosity clubbed with expectation. And, usually, he delivers top notch. ‘Kites’ doesn’t disappoint.

The film, primarily made to cater international audience, has strong overtones of a hollywood set up and the exquisite looks suggest the inevitable intentions of the producers.

I would not talk about the script here as there isn’t much to dwell and introspect. An ordinary effort in writing is hugely compensated by lavish locations and the subtle direction of Basu, especially in the second half. The film takes a riveting shape in the latter part and leads to a pulsating yet realistic end. It is not a quintessential love story with the mundane ‘lived happily ever after’ tag line. I liked the way it concluded, for such kind of enterprising and vivid love stories can only have an aftermath that lies in tatters.

The lead cast is the biggest strength of the film and the over reliance could be explicitly visible. The same cannot be said about the supporting characters though. They are pedestrian. Hrithik Roshan as the suave and ambitious young man is fantastic. ‘Fire’ does set the screen of fire and is a treat to watch. Barbara Modi with her effervescent smile looks gorgeous and charming. She’s got talent and has the potential to go a long way in the industry (might not necessarily be in the Indian scenario though). It is imperative that the biggest asset of ‘Kites’ is their sizzling chemistry on-screen. Kangana Ranaut has been thoroughly wasted and I am not sure why she has to accept a special appearance role at this juncture of her career. She is immensely talented and deserves a better deal. Nothing extraordinary about Rajesh Roshan’s music, but couple of numbers are foot tapping. Salim Sulaiman’s background score is predictably good and acquires an above average score.

For me, ‘Kites’ is watchable for two reasons: Hrithik’s on screen exploits and Anurag Basu’s slick direction. That would fetch enough to make it worth the money.

‘Women’ – The epitome of imperious sustenance

They are probably the most unique and special class of human species. And every time I come across their exploits, they impress me to the core.

Usually, in our spectrum of narrow minded inhabitants, we have always acknowledged and expected them to play second fiddle to man. And you can argue that in the wake of 21st century, their existence is more than vital to the prospects of our society and nation. But, we do find an exclusive section of male chauvinist lurking around in every corner of our world. That, for me, is the undeniable truth behind all the positive stories of female oppression and women liberation.

But despite all such formidable facts, they have an edge. Above all, they are the sole source of nourishment behind the inevitable existence of human clan. They play varied and demanding roles; Daughter, Wife, Mother, Mentor, Teacher, Guide, Inspiration. The first three are obviously the most established of all; the others are subjective and precariously intangible. Yet, their excellence in every sphere is staggering. The expectations are always mammoth and sometimes, unreasonable. Questions always lead to mundane answers that satisfy none; rebels are considered to be taboo and unconventional. Yes, we do have few who refute and react, but the percentage is bleak and impact is minimal. Evidently, I have good reasons to believe that the rebellions have happened for a noble cause and to attain higher vicinity in the larger section of this male dominated fraternity.

And mind you, all the roles specified above come with a huge price tag: Sacrifice. Every role has it’s own set of challenges and ordeals; we admit that it is almost impossible to please everyone around. But she manages to do all that with phenomenal ease, and juggling her roles amidst multiple protagonists is not a mean task. She slips in to those characters as if she was born with impeccable skill sets (not that I think otherwise) and getting trained as if it was a cakewalk. Ominous!!

Readers, my intention here is not just to applaud that very sane attitude of a woman, but paying rich tributes to those extraordinary individuals who are an indispensable part of our own lives.

‘Women’: I salute you!

Dismal T20 campaign raises inevitable eyebrows..

I have always vouched my opinion on this aspect of the game in a very strong and sedate manner. Today, I reinstate my conviction.

Unanimously, I request our immensely talented and enthusiastic cricketers to stop indulging in the lousy business of T20 and focus on ‘Cricket’. Mind you, I am not trying to be a hypocrite as our ‘Indian Team’ falter in the early stages of the ongoing T20. At some point of time, I have always criticized the overwhelming emergence of T20 format, which threatens to rob the youngsters of the basics of this great game and paves the way for the extinction of authentic test cricket and probably, bring the shutters down for the 50 over game as well.

Yes, I am speculating. But speculations have often been remembered as dangerously intimidating and I would love to be proven wrong. But after watching the team in two explicitly miserable games, I am convinced that the boys need to come back and study basics. Indian batsman are world renowned for failing to read the shorter deliveries (barring my boss and our wall), but my concern here is that Dhoni’s men have forgotten to read the pitches here. Men in Blue: Please understand that you are currently wilting it out at the Caribbean shores, where the pitches are bouncier and they come in to you much faster than they do in the subcontinent. Especially in Barbados, where the pitch used to be a minefield those days (We had a forgettable test outing in 1997 here where our boys fell like nine pins, chasing 120 in the fourth innings. We got bundled for 88 and our batting line up was considered to be top notch). And, today, for the second consecutive time, our batsman struggled. Our IPL champs (Murali Vijay, Suresh Raina, Yusuf Pathan) were disgusting to watch and have a lot of work to do, more so. since the original and only ‘World Cup’ of cricket is knocking the doors.

I would like to convey the fact to my readers that I am equally fond of our young team and confess that some of them are ominously gifted, but I admit that I do miss the class and elegance of our veterans (Usually, 35+ cricketers are summoned that way in this great game of cricket). We talk about pitches that have bounce and nip back to the batsman, have abundant pace and are ferociously quick, and then we talk about those legendary surfaces in Barbados, Sydney, Perth, Adelaide, Wellington, Centurion, Wanderers… Sachin, Dravid, Laxman: I missed you today.

The sooner our cricket team and the players realize that there is more to this game than merely slaughtering the ball to all corners of the park, the better for us. I am afraid that if the current generation of cricketers happen to forget all about technique, footwork, agility and hand-eye coordination, then our future generation would be deprived of witnessing the sole definition of world class players and all time greats, who were also widely acknowledged as the greatest entertainers of their times. You can be technically sound and yet be the phenomenon around.

‘Indian Cricket’, please wake up.