Streets lined with puddles of standing rain
Speeding along through the night
Headlights illuminating the gathering vultures
In the middle of monsoon
There sits the Doctor
His feast ready to be devoured
And yet, before the cannibalism
Comes the necrophilia
He kisses the corpse
Becomes a statistic in her book
Number 22, and possibly the last...
He can feel the anguish on her contorted face
He can yet smell the molten gold on her breath
She won't breathe no more...
Dead, Dead, Dead...
The hungry Doctor
Bites into the soft flesh
Devours her at speed...
And then the poison in her veins begins to creep over him...
He clutches at his throat,
Falls back
Dead, Dead, Dead...
The vultures swoop down
The moon is eclipsed...
R.I.P Dr. Hannibal Lecter...
I drive on into the night,
Home, home again...
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Exhaust Tale
Strange nights, these
Spent in wait
Jitters that travel up and down the spine
The phobia of a dark room
Staring up at the ceiling
A vast expanse of movie screen
The smoke from the projector
Flashing images in grayscale
The cool breeze touching the surface
Fever
The enterprises of great pith and moment
Where the silhouette raises the blade
And spurts Rosso Corsa
Onto the sheets
The eternal wait for the war to end
When slings and arrows
Would cease to matter
The silhouette dares to dream
And yet the flowing red snaps him back to reality
Some say he has no mind, no soul
And that the last time he breathed
Was in King Arthur’s time
Waiting to exhale
Waiting for goodness to embrace him
The goodness of carbon monoxide
To engulf him, envelop him
Global warming.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Devils, Outcasts, Old Men...
Those amongst us that have read Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" will probably remember how the author alleges that the Roman Catholic Church went on witch-hunts to keep the secret of the Holy Grail... That women were specifically targeted and demonized so that no one would believe the story that Mary Magdalene ("The Prostitute") was, in fact, the Daughter-in-Law of God.... It did come as a shock to the church, and all its believers who protested against the book, since their beliefs were based on the absolute infallibility of their beloved Vatican and the Pope. But then again, one can't really say for sure, since versions of history are more open to interpretation than modern archived fact... Who knows, for example, if the Knights Templar were actually sinners, rather than the heroes they were made out to be by Mr. Brown...
Speaking of fallen heroes, let us spare a moment's thought for the men who, about 25 years ago, defined a nation with their underdog achievements. Knights, like the Templar, who in the last 25 years, have been forgotten, remembered, ostracized and humiliated by the modern version of that all powerful, "hand of God" organization, the BCCI. Of course I refer to that band of 14 merry men, led by the Robin Hood from Haryana.
"Kapil's Devils" fired the imagination of a generation. For a country that has always struggled in sporting arenas across the world, they brought with them the tag of "World Champions". As every news channel in this country has already pointed out, they "Lorded" over the "Mecca of Cricket". This was the team which made cricket what it has become in India, and consequently, the world today. Think of it this way - had June 25, 1983 been another West Indian triumph, there would be no IPL, no ICL, no Champions League, nothing. There would never be enough money in cricket, compared to the millions and billions in Soccer, Basketball and suchlike. That victory was what made the Indian cricket fan buy into the sport, fill up the seats, watch it at 3 am on TV LIVE from the Caribbean and allow every corporate worth their salt to dip their hands into cricket advertising.
On the Silver Jubilee of the cup, the old men, some of them now Granddads, got together again, and everyone in the Indian media was there to interview them, with the same, pedantic questions... How did Ballu Sandhu manage to bowl the perfect inswinger to dismiss Greenidge? What was Kapil thinking of when he took the famous "running backwards" catch off Viv Richards? How did "Mr. Trivia" Sunil Valson feel about getting a winner's medal, despite never playing a game? Even the BCCI hosted a gala event, awarding everyone 25 lakh rupees each for their achievements. But it was a funny sight to see Mr. Pawar standing next to Kapil, about 2 days after insisting that no one with any links to the ICL would be allowed to play in the Champions League, and threatening English counties towards the same. And the irony, it seems, was totally lost on the Indian public...
Kapil Dev Nikhanj, the World Cup winning captain, the centre of all attention, heads the breakaway league, with colleagues Sandhu, Madan Lal and Sandeep Patil as coaches. Each one of them has been mercilessly targetted by the Board for stepping "out of line"... Their pensions have been stopped, and perhaps it was only after Sunny Gavaskar had twisted a few arms in the organization that the Board actually decided to save face and "honour" the players... What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is another case of "history repeats itself", albeit on a smaller scale... Pope Pawar XIII, along with his cohorts - Bishops Modi, Manohar, Shah and the like, is out to get the old devils...
What the Indian public should understand after this episode, is
that the Board, which was just about bankrupt in 1983 and would've remained were it not for the efforts of these men, has become a conniving, hypocritical organisation, driven by profit motive, which has understood how to milk its cash-cows, the players. And like any Yankee farm-owner, it will shoot the cow that strays onto another's pasture.
But at least for a few days, people like Gavaskar and Shastri, the morally-correct lay preachers, were reunited with the Devils, and thank goodness that after the media glare, the BCCI and everything else thrown at them, they got their old boys' reunion in the long-room at Lord's, far from the madding crowd. And ofcourse, justice was delivered...
The Holy Grail of World Cricket once again found its way into the hands of our own Mary Magdalene/Satan, one Mr. Kapildev Ramlal Nikhanj.
Speaking of fallen heroes, let us spare a moment's thought for the men who, about 25 years ago, defined a nation with their underdog achievements. Knights, like the Templar, who in the last 25 years, have been forgotten, remembered, ostracized and humiliated by the modern version of that all powerful, "hand of God" organization, the BCCI. Of course I refer to that band of 14 merry men, led by the Robin Hood from Haryana.
"Kapil's Devils" fired the imagination of a generation. For a country that has always struggled in sporting arenas across the world, they brought with them the tag of "World Champions". As every news channel in this country has already pointed out, they "Lorded" over the "Mecca of Cricket". This was the team which made cricket what it has become in India, and consequently, the world today. Think of it this way - had June 25, 1983 been another West Indian triumph, there would be no IPL, no ICL, no Champions League, nothing. There would never be enough money in cricket, compared to the millions and billions in Soccer, Basketball and suchlike. That victory was what made the Indian cricket fan buy into the sport, fill up the seats, watch it at 3 am on TV LIVE from the Caribbean and allow every corporate worth their salt to dip their hands into cricket advertising.
On the Silver Jubilee of the cup, the old men, some of them now Granddads, got together again, and everyone in the Indian media was there to interview them, with the same, pedantic questions... How did Ballu Sandhu manage to bowl the perfect inswinger to dismiss Greenidge? What was Kapil thinking of when he took the famous "running backwards" catch off Viv Richards? How did "Mr. Trivia" Sunil Valson feel about getting a winner's medal, despite never playing a game? Even the BCCI hosted a gala event, awarding everyone 25 lakh rupees each for their achievements. But it was a funny sight to see Mr. Pawar standing next to Kapil, about 2 days after insisting that no one with any links to the ICL would be allowed to play in the Champions League, and threatening English counties towards the same. And the irony, it seems, was totally lost on the Indian public...
Kapil Dev Nikhanj, the World Cup winning captain, the centre of all attention, heads the breakaway league, with colleagues Sandhu, Madan Lal and Sandeep Patil as coaches. Each one of them has been mercilessly targetted by the Board for stepping "out of line"... Their pensions have been stopped, and perhaps it was only after Sunny Gavaskar had twisted a few arms in the organization that the Board actually decided to save face and "honour" the players... What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is another case of "history repeats itself", albeit on a smaller scale... Pope Pawar XIII, along with his cohorts - Bishops Modi, Manohar, Shah and the like, is out to get the old devils...
What the Indian public should understand after this episode, is
that the Board, which was just about bankrupt in 1983 and would've remained were it not for the efforts of these men, has become a conniving, hypocritical organisation, driven by profit motive, which has understood how to milk its cash-cows, the players. And like any Yankee farm-owner, it will shoot the cow that strays onto another's pasture. But at least for a few days, people like Gavaskar and Shastri, the morally-correct lay preachers, were reunited with the Devils, and thank goodness that after the media glare, the BCCI and everything else thrown at them, they got their old boys' reunion in the long-room at Lord's, far from the madding crowd. And ofcourse, justice was delivered...
The Holy Grail of World Cricket once again found its way into the hands of our own Mary Magdalene/Satan, one Mr. Kapildev Ramlal Nikhanj.
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Obituary...
It was fun when it all began
Fresh-faced teens on a red-brick background
He spotted her wearing a green pince-nez
And thought to himself 'what a snob!'
A month was all it took for pride and prejudice to deconstruct
As he decided to play Antony; she Cleopatra
Through the initial rough and tumble he survived
But the seeds of his hamartia had already been sown...
She came to him soon enough
And there were two hearts beating as one
She was his first love
And the world was full of Dutch tulips...
Iagos abound in this world, so he found out soon
But who was to blame but himself?
Like the old ram, he had dug his own grave
And, Peripeteia occured...
She left him for another, he wrote
And engulfed himself in love of the Red
She had indeed moved on, hated him
And there was no contact...
It was histriomania that landed them back in a room
He apologised, she forgave him
But reserved judgment on his past
The quest for redemption had begun...
He tried to bide his time
He tried to be her friend
He tried to pry her loose
But knew, it was a losing battle...
A sudden swing in fortunes
And he was back in the running
Maybe the Old Man had something to do with it
But he would never know...
They drifted apart and floated together
Grew up into the twenties
His heart still had a reservation for one
She was destined for bigger things...
One day, the break came
The least he could do was say goodbye
'Be cheerful sir, our revels now are ended'
And that was the end...
Or maybe not, for she still cared for him
Called him up one fine morning
Reestablished the connection that should've been left broken
And up went his hopes again...
But she had moved on again
And that left his journey for redemption unfinished
Till the next break happened
Which took another bit of him away...
He was finally the man she would've wanted him to be
But alas! She wasn't there to see
The knight was riding in shining armour
To hide, perchance, or put up a front...
And yet again, that primitive form of communication popped up
Telepathy, destiny, fate - it has many names
But this time he was firm in resolve
And managed to put it across to her...
" I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',
Tired of sittin' and hatin' and makin' these excuses,
For why you're not around, and feeling so useless,
It seems one thing has been true all along,
You don't really know what you've got 'til it's gone,
I guess I've had it with you and your career,
When you come back I won't be here and you can sing...
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone. "
That was when he breathed his last, that man
It was as if a debt had been paid
He could finally breathe easy
Easy come, easy go...
He had forgotten that he was Faustus
The man who had sold his soul to Lucifer
Mephisto came to him and said
'Its time, my friend...'
Wander the depths, Faustus
Find solace, if not redemption...
For thou hast left and gone to hell
And I wish thee a warmer Farewell...
They say Beelzebub is a benefactor
Not the Fair Lord up above
May the fire not singe thy coat of fur
But even if it does,
'habit is a great deadener...'
Fresh-faced teens on a red-brick background
He spotted her wearing a green pince-nez
And thought to himself 'what a snob!'
A month was all it took for pride and prejudice to deconstruct
As he decided to play Antony; she Cleopatra
Through the initial rough and tumble he survived
But the seeds of his hamartia had already been sown...
She came to him soon enough
And there were two hearts beating as one
She was his first love
And the world was full of Dutch tulips...
Iagos abound in this world, so he found out soon
But who was to blame but himself?
Like the old ram, he had dug his own grave
And, Peripeteia occured...
She left him for another, he wrote
And engulfed himself in love of the Red
She had indeed moved on, hated him
And there was no contact...
It was histriomania that landed them back in a room
He apologised, she forgave him
But reserved judgment on his past
The quest for redemption had begun...
He tried to bide his time
He tried to be her friend
He tried to pry her loose
But knew, it was a losing battle...
A sudden swing in fortunes
And he was back in the running
Maybe the Old Man had something to do with it
But he would never know...
They drifted apart and floated together
Grew up into the twenties
His heart still had a reservation for one
She was destined for bigger things...
One day, the break came
The least he could do was say goodbye
'Be cheerful sir, our revels now are ended'
And that was the end...
Or maybe not, for she still cared for him
Called him up one fine morning
Reestablished the connection that should've been left broken
And up went his hopes again...
But she had moved on again
And that left his journey for redemption unfinished
Till the next break happened
Which took another bit of him away...
He was finally the man she would've wanted him to be
But alas! She wasn't there to see
The knight was riding in shining armour
To hide, perchance, or put up a front...
And yet again, that primitive form of communication popped up
Telepathy, destiny, fate - it has many names
But this time he was firm in resolve
And managed to put it across to her...
" I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',
Tired of sittin' and hatin' and makin' these excuses,
For why you're not around, and feeling so useless,
It seems one thing has been true all along,
You don't really know what you've got 'til it's gone,
I guess I've had it with you and your career,
When you come back I won't be here and you can sing...
Where'd you go?
I miss you so,
Seems like it's been forever,
That you've been gone. "
That was when he breathed his last, that man
It was as if a debt had been paid
He could finally breathe easy
Easy come, easy go...
He had forgotten that he was Faustus
The man who had sold his soul to Lucifer
Mephisto came to him and said
'Its time, my friend...'
Wander the depths, Faustus
Find solace, if not redemption...
For thou hast left and gone to hell
And I wish thee a warmer Farewell...
They say Beelzebub is a benefactor
Not the Fair Lord up above
May the fire not singe thy coat of fur
But even if it does,
'habit is a great deadener...'
Friday, April 04, 2008
Let the Madness Begin!
And so after all the hype, the hoopla, the drama, the gazillion dollars, and everything else that spells P-O-M-P under the sun, the Indian Premier League will finally get underway on April 18. Now, call me a traditionalist, but I tend to think that Test Cricket is being violated, nay, slow-poisoned by all these upstart T20 tournaments. Be it the OFFICIAL one or the REBEL ICL, what with the high-bass music, the dancing babes, or the handsome hits to- and over-the-fence, the traditional straight bat has been chucked out of the window overlooking the ocean... (Read: 'has been left to sink')
Come to think of it, THIS, my dear reader, is the evolution that Darwin talked about... How an old species has to adapt to changing conditions or else, face extinction... It remains to be seen whether Test cricket, the true test of strength and character, turns out to be a Dinosaur...
And what the teams have realized is that sports are for young people... Their marketing strategies are centered around colloquial usages, and packages that would attract the youth. SRK's proclamation of KORBO, LORBO, JEETBO for his Kolkata Knightriders franchise was the seminal moment, when the IPL brigade went under-25. Its all about the Passion, it really is...
Passion is, ofcourse, where DADA is... Mr. Sourav Chandidas Ganguly, the man who wore his heart on his sleeve as captain, the one who defined a generation of Indian cricket... Add to that, the passion of Shah Rukh Khan, the Mark Cuban of IPL, throw in the glut of talent, and what you have is a team worthy of a fan-following, even before a ball has been bowled...
KORBO LORBO JEETBO RE!!! GO KNIGHT-RIDERS!!! :-D
Come to think of it, THIS, my dear reader, is the evolution that Darwin talked about... How an old species has to adapt to changing conditions or else, face extinction... It remains to be seen whether Test cricket, the true test of strength and character, turns out to be a Dinosaur...
* * * * * *
The best part about the ICL/IPL concept is actually borrowed from the Americans - the concept of city-centered franchises and the rivalry between them... This is a concept that actually polarizes the urban audience as per their geographic allegiance, which, if my reading of human history is correct, has been the reason for the 2nd highest number of wars in history (the 1st being ofcourse, religion). This helps generate more interest, brings out the performer in every player, and also makes an outsider playing for the team more selfless - since he plays for the AUDIENCE and their energy... THE FAN IS KING!But then again, the show must go on... And the show, undoubtedly, is Twenty20 cricket... Blessed be the Englishman who invented the game of cricket, and blessed be the other one who thought of this ridiculous idea to shorten the game to 20-overs-a-side. Doesn't seem too ridiculous, does it now, especially with Lalit Modi at the helm? Here's some food for thought for those who call the IPL a waste of time/money/talent... Would Vijay Mallya invest his millions in a doomed project? Uh-huh, sonny boy, I DONT THINK SO!
And what the teams have realized is that sports are for young people... Their marketing strategies are centered around colloquial usages, and packages that would attract the youth. SRK's proclamation of KORBO, LORBO, JEETBO for his Kolkata Knightriders franchise was the seminal moment, when the IPL brigade went under-25. Its all about the Passion, it really is...
Passion is, ofcourse, where DADA is... Mr. Sourav Chandidas Ganguly, the man who wore his heart on his sleeve as captain, the one who defined a generation of Indian cricket... Add to that, the passion of Shah Rukh Khan, the Mark Cuban of IPL, throw in the glut of talent, and what you have is a team worthy of a fan-following, even before a ball has been bowled...
KORBO LORBO JEETBO RE!!! GO KNIGHT-RIDERS!!! :-D
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