Thanks Master

Hi Guys,

This blog comes shortly after India's disastrous performance in the T20 world cup in England. The Indian "Team" showed no team spirit whatsoever. But hey, I'm not writing this blog to criticise our Boys, or rather The men in blue. This text is dedicated solely to one man. His name will reveal itself later on.

The year - 1992. The battleground - Australia. The time - 0500 hrs, IST. The setting - A cold morning, parents asleep, a six year old sitting in front of the TV praying for 2 things. well... 3 things - 1> Let Him score runs and win the match for india 2> Let Mom n Dad not wake up, or else i'll get belted ... and 3> Let something happen and school declare a holiday today :) [ Come on guys, all 6 year olds think like that ]

Fifteen minutes later, the 6 year old sat there heart broken, crying silently in front of the TV. God had been unreasonably cruel on him - His curly haired idol was Out for just one run.

Well, that was 1992. We have moved on 17 years, but still the passion remains. Its something we cant put our fingers upon, but we are all glued to it. A billion of us. And the single biggest factor for this MegaMadness is one Mr Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

I know a lot has been said and written about the Master, but here is my version. A very personal one at that. They say he burst onto the international cricket scene at a young age of 16 and made his debut against pakistan. Got hit by Waqar on the head, the went on to smack Abdul ' Wily ' Qadir for 3 sixes in an over. But i was just 3 when the Master made his debut. I didnt relate to cricket then. But everything changed in 92.

I got my first cricket bat in 92. It was a Power V1200 bat, English willow. It was a miniature model of His bat. That was my proudest possesions for years to come. That sparked off something inside. It made me wake up at any hour of the day just to watch him. I would be so excited the night before a big match, i didnt even need an alarm. Things just got bigger, better and wilder. I still wake up at match time, but i dont keep it a secret anymore.

There are some moments of magic which the Master displays, and it leaves you in a state of awe. The only thing you can after His straight drive is Wow!! How does he do that? The answer to that question is very simple my friends. His name is SRT, and he does what he pleases.

I watched a few videos today of His innings - The explosion against Pak in the 2003 world cup ( yes, that innings where he tore apart what was arguably the best bowling attack of WC2003) Wasim, Waqar and Shoaib were dispatched with disdain. The six He hooked off Andrew Caddick, The straight drive bullet off Brett Lee, The flick, the Square cut, the Punch Down the Ground, the On Drive. All these have have one thing in common - The touch of a Genius, and the answer to a billion prayers.

For a patriot and a fan like me, there are very few things in the world that take me That High as watching Him pull off an unbelievable stroke. This afternoon, i was watching His videos with vande Mataram playing in the background. Man!! That gave me goosbumps!! And i had absolutely no clue that i was so excited. These were the shots i had already seen a few hundred times, and yet they dont stop to amaze me. I was six all over again, and my curly haired idol was on screen, doing what he does best - Answer a billion prayers in his own inimitable style.

His cricketing days are an absolute gift from up above. Savour them. I definitely will.

Thanks Master.

It's a Peeling Feeling

Hi fellas... I'm back after a reeeeeeaaallllly loooong time....

I was trying to access my blog account with the wrong e-mail ID. [ stupid me, as always :) ]

You may find this a bit dragging, but i have to let it out somewhere.

I also promised myself that i would use correct english while writing this blog, and give my mobile phone lingo a much needed break.

Well, onto a more serious note.

This blog represents one of those wierd feelings we have trapped within our souls, but cant be let out. The subject of my blog today is " My beloved Wardrobe Door" a.k.a " The Schumi Shrine.

The wardrobe "housed" over 100 photographs of my Idol, Schumi over the past decade. And i stress on "housed" as the door is history now.

It all began in 1998-99 when as a 12 year old, i cut out my first Black and White Schumi picture from a newspaper and pasted it on my wardrobe door. And that picture was the first of a 114 pictures. I remember so well the look on my parents' face when i used to cut up the sunday and monday editions of the Times Of India on the race weekend. I am not the cleanest guy in the universe, and that led to a massive collage on the wardrobe door. It was one big, red, passionate collage. My friends used to pull my leg so much on that one issue. I have had so many fights with people who have threatened to rip off a few photos. That wardrobe door was so much a part of me that i have around 20 pictures of that door alone. My day would always begin with a glance at the door, a silent prayer to Schumi, and the everything else would follow.

I still remember my best friend's reaction when he first saw my wardrobe door. He was a Mclaren supporter. He was taken aback by the Red passion. He told me - " dude, this makes me almost want to be Schumi's fan". And that reaction, my dear friends, coming from a staunch Schumi opposer was a sweet sweet feeling.

The door was large enough for me to also stick photographs of my football heroes Beckham and Maldini as well. But, it was always known as the entrance to the Schumi Shrine.

Ten years after i started my collection ( my Mom still calls it madness), the door started having a few problems. It started bending, creaking and what not. My parents approached me with the idea of getting the wrdrobe re-done, and this meant the Schumi Shrine would go! I vehemently opposed it, but i knew that i was waging a lonely battle.

I was outnumbered and outdone emotionally as well as logically. So, on one sunday evening ( it was a race-weekend, and it did not surprise me one tiny bit), i sat down peeling down the photos one by one, and also trying to salvage as many photos as i could. ( Old newspaper when pasted with glue is alsomst impossible to remove cleanly) I lost 26 photos, recovered 55, and the rest, i left the on the wardrobe door. 2 days later, the old entrance to the Schumi Shrine was uprooted from it hinges, and mercilessly thrown out.

Thank God for small mercies - I was not home when the wardrobe door was ripped apart.

The new wardrobe is in place, but it is plain, blank and boring.

There is no more Scarlet!!! But there will always be Scarlet!!!

See ya soon.

Till then, Adios amigos.

Miss u champ!!