When men cry

I am fielding at long-off. That's weird. I don't play cricket. In fact, I hate the game. This must be a dream. Wait a minute, it's Sachin Tendulkar on strike. Okay! It surely is a dream then. I look around the stadium. Now I get it. It's Sachin's last cricket match in all forms of cricket. And this is his last innings. Wow! I can't imagine this day has come. And I've got front row seats to the grandest finale cricket has ever seen.

The bowler sends in a top spinner. Sachin comes down the track to meet it and whips it straight down the ground. It's a top edge that rocketed high into the sky and starts falling down towards me inside the boundary line. The entire stadium has gone silent.

Sachin Tendulkar is the most famous cricket player in Indian history. He's the most loved and worshipped player by Indians all over the country in any sport, and I don't need statistical evidence to prove that statement. He started his international cricket career for India at the age of 16. That's two years under the legal age to drive a car and vote in elections in the country. That means he started playing for our country even before he became a man. Today he's 40 years old. That's a humungous career. And what a career that has been.

Sachin has played some amazing matches in his day. He has broken almost all the batting records in international cricket, and set a few that will not be broken in a long time to come. But I'm not going to go through any of those numbers here because they don't matter. For me, it's the memories that matter. And my dearest one is the 1998 Sharjah Cup semi-final when India was chasing a huge score set by Australia. We haven't qualified for the final yet and needed to reach a particular score in order to make the required run-rate to overthrow New Zealand as the team to meet Australia in the grand-final. That innings, later dubbed as the "sandstorm innings" where Sachin stood still in the middle of the pitch while a desert sandstorm hit the stadium midway through his innings, waiting for it to subside so that he can continue with his own run-storm was the best innings he has ever played. He helped India qualify for the finals, but kept going in order to win the match with such ferocity that the Australians were literally shivering with fear. He was later dismissed wrongly and we went on to lose the match even after coming so close. But after seeing his batting display, I and everybody else who watched that game that day knew what was going to happen two days later in the finals. I bet even the Australians did.

Sachin has many qualities that make him stand out amongst his peers. He is talented, passionate, hard-working and honest. But what made him stay at the top for such a long time is his biggest quality of all - humility. And that's what keeps him in the hearts and prayers of a billion souls on the planet. Not a lot of public figures have that quality anymore, and with Sachin gone, that's one thing I'm surely going to miss.

I move a few steps to my side trying to get under the ball. The ball drops right into my hands and stays there. I'm gutted. I look across towards the pitch and sees Sachin at the crease, looking at me, realising that I haven't dropped the catch. Then he looks up and raises his bat to the sky, and walks towards the pavilion for one last time. I look at the ball in my hand, fall to the ground and start crying. The entire stadium has erupted with emotion, to say farewell to their God.

I woke up from my dream and realise that it's late in the night. It's the year 2011 and I'm in my Bangalore apartment. I looked over to my side and see T sleeping. I touched my face and felt tears down my cheeks. I turned around and thought about the day Sachin retires from cricket. Maybe next year. Or the year after that. That day is getting closer. I lay there crying for an hour thinking about that dreadful day before I finally fell asleep.

Time Machine

Light travels at almost 300,000 km per second. That's a lot of distance in a second. So in 3 seconds, light would travel almost 900,000 kilometers. And light reflects off objects and make them visible to the human eye. If light doesn't reflect, nobody sees anything.

If I look at you from 900,000 kilometers away, I will see what you did 3 seconds ago. That's looking at what you did in the past. Now if I try to capture the light that got reflected off everything years ago from some far off place, or make a device that can replicate that light using some complex mathematical equation, I can see the past. There's my idea for a device to see the past. Simple.

Is it worth it?

Xavier is a fifty nine year old central government employee who retired from official duty last March. All his life he has been waiting for his retirement, which he planned to spend reading all the classics in English literature he never found time to read. He has two sons who are living in England working in different multinational corporations for the last five years.

Mary and Sara are very similar in many ways. Both of them spend most of their time sleeping. And when they're not, they're a handful. They talk the entire time they're awake, which mostly doesn't make any sense. They ask the same questions again and again, and cry most of the time. It has been very difficult for Xavier to spend his dream retirement with these two around. They fall sick all the time, and lie awake most nights crying and talking rubbish. For an old man like Xavier, who finds it difficult taking care of himself, tending to these two is a nightmare.

Xavier doesn't like Mary's presence in the house. Her repeated questions irritates him, and he ignores her rubbish talks bluntly. He finds it a pain to take care of her when she's sick, and wished she was gone. He gets angry and shouts at her almost everyday. But he loves Sara. He would always spend time with her, talk to her and never get bored, He wakes up every night Sara cries, and would spend time with her till she goes back to sleep, even when he ignores Mary's cries completely. Retirement has been difficult for Xavier than he thought.

Mary is Xavier's eighty one year old mother. She has been in bed ever since she had a stroke two years ago. Sara is his grand daughter. She turned one a couple of months ago. She has been staying with her grandfather ever since she was born. She'll go to her parents in England next month when her documents for travel gets approved by the embassy, and most probably will never come back.

Old people have become a burden to most these days. Fathers and mothers who have spent most of their lives taking care of you, saving money for you, giving you a good education, looking after you, and showing you the right way to lead a good life suddenly become a nuisance in your life. They're a difficulty you want to live without. You send them to an old age home, and visit them once in two months if possible because they become a hindrance to your daily life. And they had sacrificed their whole lives for your happiness. Doesn't it seem obvious that the kid you're preferring over your old mother will put you in the same old age home someday? Do we love and cherish each and every moment together with our kids to finally end up in an old age home, and spend the last years of our lives with other unfortunate people whose kids abandoned them?

Is the life we live abandoning them worth it at the end?

The God I almost met

"Sometimes in life you call out to a god out there you have never met or doesn't believe that exists, out of desperation rather than faith. This was one of those days."

It was our third year college tour to Karnataka. We visited Mysore and Bangalore, and the fourth days plan was to visit Shravanabelagola. It's a rock hill on top of which is a Jain temple, with a giant statue of Gomateswara. To get to the temple, we have to climb around 650 steps cut in the rock.

I was in charge of handling finance for the trip. I had one of those college bags that hung around the shoulder in which I kept the money, the accounts, and some of my personal stuff. It had around Rs. 50,000 when we started the climb. That was the remaining amount to be paid to the bus we hired, and the water theme park we were supposed to go the next day. As soon as we started the climb, me and Jisha started counting the steps. After a while, I gave up, and walked in front. About three quarters of the way up, there is a small temple of some lesser god. We took almost thirty five minutes to reach it. I walked into the complex tired and weary and sweating. The first thing I did was remove the bag off my shoulders and put it under a pillar inside. That was when Sherin and Shabna joined me, and we sat there to rest for a while. Somebody called for a group photo, and being the show-off I was, I jumped off the temple and ran into the frame. What I realized 2 hours later was that I didn't pick up the bag when I went to get my picture taken. We climbed again to the reach the main temple, and then came back all the way down the hill and went shopping.

I liked something in a shop which I thought I'd buy and reached out to my back pocket to take my wallet out when it struck me that the bag that should have been hanging on that side was missing. I cannot explain the feeling that ran through me at the exact moment. I was petrified, already thinking about the consequences. But in an instance, I recollected where I had kept it on top of the hill, and how I jumped off to get my picture clicked, and how I crossed that temple on my way back, and didn't realize that the bag with all our money was missing all this while. I ran out of the store, and told Rajeev about it. I told him I'm going up to find it and started running up the steps. Being the cool head he is, he replied saying he'd send Justin up behind me. Justin was the Arnold Schwarzenegger of my class, and he was the only one capable of climbing that hill twice in a day. Other than me of course. He had the muscles and the energy to do it. My ass was on fire.

I wasn't counting the steps this time. I couldn't think of them. The hot blaring sun right above my head, and my tight jeans were not helping me either. I was running with all my energy, climbing the 650 odd steps that led to the temple on top at an athletes pace. I think I clinched a national record to climb 600 steps when I reached the small temple complex in under 10 minutes. My head was spinning and my heart pounding when I ran into it. I looked under the pillar where I kept the bag, but it wasn't there. I didn't know what to do next. I thought I should run up all the way to the top of the hill, and stay there with Gomateswara all my life. I didn't know what I'll tell my friends if I went down without the money. Exhausted and deprived of my senses, I sat down in the middle of the temple. Justin reached the place by that time. I told him I couldn't find it where I'd kept it. He said he'll go all the way to the top and check out in the main temple as well, and continued his run. I was in deep shit, and I knew it. Sometimes in life you call out to a god out there you have never met or doesn't believe that exists, out of desperation rather than faith. This was one of those days.

That's when I heard somebody call me from inside the temple. I turned around and saw a person. He was sitting behind a table writing something. It was God. I was sure. He had a divine feel to the way he sat on the floor, the way he wrote on the paper and the way he called out to me. He asked me what I wanted. I told him the whole story. Then he asked me to describe the bag and its contents. When I told him everything, stuttering as I did, he took out a bag from a box, and showed it to me. It was my money bag. I was so happy to see it. He asked me to examine the contents, which I did, and confirmed that nothing was missing. The money, my walkman, some clothes and my cap. I was so relieved at that point. I thanked him with all my heart and told him that he saved my life, as I didn't know what to do if I couldn't find the bag. This was one of those moments for me when all the principles I had against the existence of God, all the debates I've had with my friends, all the books and articles I have read and all the fights I had with my mom for not going to the temple suddenly became obsolete and meaningless. It was very difficult to change a belief that has been instilled in my brain for years and accept a simple fact that negates the credibility of everything I accepted as true until then. My mind was still in conflict between God on one side, and my beliefs on the other as I got up to leave, when he asked me, "So you got your bag. Aren't you making any donation to the temple?". And that's when the divinity of that moment came to an end. I suddenly came back to my senses and realized that he was no God but a human after all. Even though I was taken aback from the things happening suddenly around me and inside my head, I was extremely happy that I got my bag back, and I picked a hundred rupee note from my pocket and gave it to him. He asked for more, which I humbly declined, and ran away from there.

On my climb down hill, I thought of how I almost screwed up the tour for my entire class with my carelessness and lack of responsibility. When I reached the bottom, I saw Rajeev and Kavitha, who were the only others apart from me and Justin who knew about this 'averted-tragedy' standing outside a restaurant. Everybody else were inside, having a wonderful lunch, with no idea that I almost lost the money to pay for that lunch, and their way back home. I told them about what happened on top of the hill, except the part where I almost saw and started believing in God.

72 virgins

I met my terrorist friend Ahmed who died in a suicide bomb blast a couple of months ago in Delhi at the park yesterday. He was reborn as a dog. I was surprised to meet him. He seemed really pissed.

Apparently, he was promised paradise after death where he will be given 72 virgins if he did what is right for Jihad and blow up innocent people in some coffee shop in Delhi. That's what his trainer Amir told him in the Pakistani mountains during training. And all his classmates were looking forward to it ever since. So when they asked for volunteers for the coffee shop blast, he was more than happy to oblige. And in turn, he reached heaven, where he met God, and his promised 72 virgins.

He went into the immigration department for Muslims in heaven. It was a huge monument, resembling the Juma Masjid. There he saw 72 fat, ugly looking women waiting for him. He was shocked as this was not what was promised. So he went to God for an explanation.

'God, I sacrificed my life for Jihad. Why are my virgins fat and ugly looking?'

'Ahmed, where do you think the virgins come to heaven from? They come here from earth after they die. And since they were fat and ugly looking, they remained virgins all their life.'

Ahmed got really angry at this, and asked God if he can go back to earth to his wife and kid, which God declined, saying that rebirth was not an option among Muslims. He should join Hinduism for that. So Ahmed went to the Hindu office right across the street and talked to almost 4,897,232 gods there to accept him and send him back to earth which, after a lot of discussion they agreed to. And since they didn't want him to join forces with Muslims again on earth, they sent him as a dog, so that Muslims keep him away from them.

So my message to all the terrorists out there blowing up people all around the world along with themselves in the name of Jihad, which even Muslims denounce, all for the prize of 72 virgins, is that it's not worth it. Spend time with your wife and kids while you are on earth. Live for them instead of dying for 72 fat and ugly looking women.

മല്ലി ഇട്ട മീന്‍ കറി

പെണ്ണ് കാണല്‍ എന്നൊരു ചടങ്ങ് ഇന്നത്തെ കാലത്ത് വലിയ ആടംബാരത്തോട് കൂടി നടത്തുന്ന ഒരു ചടങ്ങല്ല. പെണ്ണും ചെറുക്കനും എവിടെയെങ്കിലും വച്ച് കണ്ടു മുട്ടും. അതിനു ശേഷം മൊബൈല്‍ ഫോണും ഇ-മെയിലും ചാറ്റും ഒക്കെ ഉള്‍പെടുന്ന കുറെ പ്രണയ സമ്പന്നമായ ദിവസങ്ങളും മാസങ്ങളും കഴിഞ്ഞു തമ്മില്‍ കല്യാണം കഴിച്ചു ജീവിക്കാന്‍ തീരുമാനം എടുത്ത ശേഷം വീട്ടുകാരെ-കാണിക്കല്‍ എന്ന ചടങ്ങായി അത് മാറി കഴിഞ്ഞു. അങ്ങനെ ആകുമ്പോള്‍ മകള്‍ കൊണ്ട് വന്നിരിക്കുന്ന സാധനത്തിന്റെ മാറ്റ് അച്ഛനും, അമ്മയ്കും, അമ്മായിക്കും, അമ്മാവനും, അപ്പൂപ്പനും, അമ്മൂമ്മയ്കും, അനിയനും, അനിയത്തിയ്കും, ആലിസ് പൂച്ചയ്കും, കൈസര്‍ പട്ടിയ്കും ഒക്കെ ബോധ്യമാവനം. അത് ഇന്നത്തെ കാലത്തെ ചെരുപ്പകാര്‍ക്ക് ഒരു വലിയ പ്രശ്നമായി മാറിയിരിക്കുകയാണ്.

അങ്ങനെയുള്ള ഒരു ചെറുപ്പക്കാരനും ചെറുപ്പക്കാരിയും മരം ചുറ്റി ഓടിയും കണ്ണ് പൊത്തി കളിച്ചും പ്രണയിച്ചു കല്യാണം കഴിക്കാന്‍ തീരുമാനിച്ചു. പെണ്ണിന്റെ വീട്ടുകാരെ കാണാന്‍ എത്തിയ ചെറുക്കന് വലിയ സ്വീകരണമാണ് പെണ്ണിന്റെ വീട്ടുകാര്‍ ഒരുക്കിയത്. ചെറുക്കന്റെ കയ്യിലിരുപ്പു പെണ്ണിനും പെണ്ണിന്റെ കയ്യിലിരുപ്പു ചെറുക്കനും അറിയാമായിരുന്നതുകൊണ്ട് തമ്മില്‍ ആദ്യമേ ഒരു ധാരനയായിട്ടാണ് ഇങ്ങനെ ഒരു പ്രഹസനത്തിനു അവര്‍ തയ്യാറായത്. എന്നാല്‍ പെണ്ണിന്റെ വീട്ടുകാര്‍ക്ക് ഇതൊരു അഭിമാനത്തിന്റെ കാര്യമായിരുന്നു. ചെറുക്കന്‍ പിന്നെ കുറ്റം പറയാന്‍ ഇടയാക്കരുതല്ലോ. അത് കൊണ്ട് ടിന്നെറിനു ക്ഷണിച്ച ഭാവി മരുമകനെ ആദ്യം കേരളത്തില്‍ എങ്ങുമുള്ള ആചാരമനുസരിച്ച് ടൌണിലെ ബാറില്‍ കൊണ്ട് പോയി ബിയര്‍ വാങ്ങിച്ചു കൊടുക്കാന്‍ അമ്മായി അപ്പന്‍ പുറപ്പെട്ടു. വേണ്ട എന്ന് ആദ്യം പറഞ്ഞെങ്കിലും അമ്മായിയപ്പന്റെ നിര്‍ബന്ധത്തിനു വഴങ്ങി അവന്‍ സമ്മതിച്ചു. ബാറില്‍ സംഭവിച്ചതെന്താണെന്ന് ആര്‍ക്കും അറിയില്ലെങ്കിലും തിരിച്ചു വന്നുകേറിയ പെണ്ണിന്റെ അച്ഛന്റെ മുഖത്ത് ഒരു വലിയ തെളിച്ചമുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. അമ്മായിഅപ്പന് മരുമകനെ വല്ലാണ്ട് ബോധിച്ചു. ഒരു പകുതിയെ കയ്യിലെടുത്ത സന്തോഷത്തോടു കൂടി നമ്മുടെ ചെറുക്കന്‍ വീട്ടിലെത്തിയിട്ടു ബാക്കി പകുതിയേ എങ്ങനെ വലയിലാക്കം എന്ന ചിന്തയില്‍ മുഴുകി. അപ്പോഴേക്കും അത്താഴത്തിനു സമയമായി. അച്ഛനും, അമ്മയും അമ്മായിയുമൊക്കെ ഇരുന്നു ആലോചിച്ചു തീരുമാനിച്ചതാണ് ചോറിന്റെ കൂടെ മീന്‍ കറിയുണ്ടാക്കാമെന്ന്. വടക്കന്‍ രീതിയില്‍ വറ്റിച്ചു വച്ച മീന്‍ കറി വിളമ്പിയിട്ട് കേരളത്തിന്റെ സാധാരണ ഏതു വീട്ടിലെ അമ്മയും ചോദിക്കുന്ന ആ ചോദ്യം പെണ്ണിന്റെ അമ്മ ചെരുക്കനോട് ചോദിച്ചു.

"മീന്‍ കറി എങ്ങനെ ഉണ്ട്?"

"നന്നായിട്ടുണ്ട്. മല്ലിയിട്ടു വച്ചതാണല്ലേ?"

ഇത് കേട്ടതും പെണ്ണിന്റെ അമ്മയും, അടുക്കള വാതിലില്‍ ചാരി നിന്ന അമ്മായിയും ഫ്ലാറ്റ്. അടുക്കളയില്‍ ഒത്തു കൂടിയ അമ്മയും, അമ്മായിയും ഒരേ സ്വരത്തില്‍ പെണ്ണിനോട് പറഞ്ഞു,

"ചെറുക്കന് പാചകത്തില്‍ ഒക്കെ ഭയങ്കര ജ്ഞാനം ആണ്"

കണ്ണ് പൂട്ടിയെറിഞ്ഞ കല്ല്‌ മാങ്ങയും കൊണ്ട് താഴേക്കു വീഴുന്നത് കണ്ടു കൊണ്ട് ചെറുക്കന്‍ ഒരു നിമിഷം ഒന്ന് മനസ്സില്‍ പുഞ്ചിരിച്ചു. ഡൈനിങ്ങ്‌ ടേബിളില്‍ കൂടെ ഇരിന്നു ഡിന്നര്‍ കഴിക്കുന്ന അമ്മായിഅപ്പനെ ഒന്ന് നോക്കി. അദ്ധേഹത്തിന്റെ മുഖത്തൊരു പുഞ്ചിരി. 'പ്ലാന്‍ സക്സെസ്സ്'

കൈ കഴുകി എഴുന്നേറ്റ ചെറുക്കന്‍ അമ്മായിയപ്പന്‍ തന്ന ഒരു പൊതിയും വാങ്ങി എല്ലാവരോടും യാത്ര പറഞ്ഞു ബംഗ്ലൂരിലേക്കുള്ള ബസ്‌ കയറി. എന്നിട്ട് അവന്റെ ആദ്യത്തയും അവസാനത്തയുമായ പെണ്ണ് കാണല്‍ ചടങ്ങ് ഭംഗിയായി അവസാനിച്ചതിന്റെ സന്തോഷത്തില്‍ അവന്‍ അവള്‍ക്കൊരു മെസ്സേജ് അയച്ചു.

ശുഭം.

PS: ഇപ്പോള്‍ കിട്ടിയത്. രണ്ടു വീട്ടുകാരും ചേര്‍ന്ന് ഇവരുടെ നിശ്ചയം ഡിസംബറിലും കല്യാണം അടുത്ത കൊല്ലം നടത്താനും തീരുമാനിച്ചു. ഏതായാലും ശ്രീകാന്തിനും ആശക്കും എന്റെ ഹൃദയം നിറഞ്ഞ ആശംസകള്‍.

The day I became the Director General of Police

Someone stole my mobile phone from my hostel room one evening while I was playing football a few years ago in college. It was my new Nokia 6600, which commanded a lot of respect those days. I knew I would never get it back, but nevertheless, I registered a complaint at the local police station. The police officers were very supportive. They told me that it is lost forever, and there's no way to retrieve it. Now that's encouraging. On top of that, they were sure the culprit is one of my room mates, and they can take them into custody and beat the hell of out them till they agree for the theft. This was the Kerala police way of doing things. But I wasn't amused. I told them if it's one of my room mates that took it, then I'll let them keep it and withdraw my complaint. I went back to my hostel cursing the utter uselessness of the so called 'Police Force'.

One of my friends in college, Nirmala knew the then district Superintendent of Police. Being an IPS officer, he once came to our college for inaugurating some function on her request, and talked for an hour about global issues. I didn't listen then, but I later realized that he was a very educated person. She called him and told him about the stolen phone, and the complaint I registered at Pampady police station. He then called the station, and 'recommended' the case. This is the best thing about Kerala Police. They work on cases only if they are recommended by superiors. They don't bother otherwise. So now, all of a sudden, my stolen phone has become the hottest case for the police in Pampady police station. The same day, four police men came to the hostel where I was staying to talk to me and make the First Information Report. Like every case, they needed suspects. And since they are utterly useless in anything, they made my room mates the prime suspects. After that, I never heard from them again. Maybe because I didn't have my phone. :-)

Another friend of mine told me that mobile phones can be tracked using the IMEI number by the service providers, even if the thief uses another SIM card. That's when I had a glimmer of hope that I'll get it back, and decided to call the SP. I thought maybe if I tell him about how phones can be tracked using the IMEI number, he might be able to 'recommend' the local police into doing some work for a change and find my phone. So on a Thursday morning, I wake up around 9.30 am and calls his mobile number. I was a little nervous knowing that I was going to speak to an IPS officer, so I decide to go with English instead of Malayalam. A great decision, I was reckoning. I'll realize that was a mistake later.

'Hello'

'Hello?'

'Is this Mr. Sreejith?'

Angrily, 'Who is speaking?'

'Hi, My name is Anish, studying in RIT, Kottayam. I'm Nirmala's friend. I believe she called you regarding a stolen mobile phone.'

 By this time, his voice seemed angrier. 'Call me later. I'm in the judicial court in Calicut now.'

Phew. That was tense, for no particular reason. Why are police officers angry all the time, and for no particular reason? Part of their training I guess.

So I go to class, late by an hour. Nothing relevant ever happens there, so fast forward to lunch time. Nirmala comes to me and starts shouting.

'What the hell did you tell him?'

I have no idea what she's talking about. 'What did I tell him?'

'You called him Mr. Sreejith???'

Me, naively, 'Ya. Did I mess up his name?'

'Did you ask for MISTER SREEJITH?'

'Yes. Can you cut the crap and tell me what his name is?'

'He is really pissed off you called him as Mister Sreejith. You should've asked for "Sreejith Sir" instead. He was furious over the phone. He wanted to know if you think you are the Director General of Police to address him as Mister Sreejith.'

I didn't know what to say after hearing this. Actually, I didn't know if I had said something wrong. Maybe he didn't expect a civilian to call him Mr. Sreejith. He was so used to being called Sreejith Sir that he couldn't comprehend the simple fact that Mister is how men are addressed in English, with NO DISRESPECT. I lost the little bit of respect I had for him after that. 

I didn't call him again after that, and didn't bother to check with the local police on the status of my mobile recovery. I never saw my phone again. There's still an open case registered at Pampady police station for a stolen mobile. The prime suspects are my college room mates Nadeem, Pavan and Jayadevan, in that order. I don't think they know that.

When customer care calls

A few months ago, I got a call from Vodafone customer care. They told me that they analyzed my phone bills and figured out that there is a new plan introduced for corporate customers which is much better than the one I'm subscribed to now. I hate it when I get calls from customer care numbers, or credit card companies, so I was trying to avoid being dragged into a conversation. But somehow, the guy on the other end started explaining the plan. The sad part was that he was speaking English in some weird Indian accent which I couldn't understand, and he was talking extremely fast. After listening to about 5 minutes, the guy asks, 'So can I activate this plan Sir?'. Now I didn't say no. Because if I did, I know he will start asking me why, and then explain the plan all over again. So I didn't give it much thought and said yes. And he concluded with the usual 'Thank you for your time, Have a nice day'. I had no idea what I just subscribed for, and I never bothered to check.

A couple of weeks later, I got another call from Vodafone telling me that the majority of my bill amount was contributed by STD calls, and he has the exact remedy for that - a new STD pack. And again, before I could say no he started explaining the plan. I was in the middle of some work, and so I didn't bother to listen to what he was saying. And as usual at the end of the call, I ended up saying YES to the 'Shall I activate the pack sir?' question. I didn't know what plans I was subscribed to at that point of time. Again, I got lazy and didn't bother to check my plan details.

In the next couple of months, my phone bill amounts started climbing for no reason. I used to pay around Rs. 400 - 500 every month on an average. Now I'm paying around Rs. 1000. And I don't even call anybody; at least that's what my mom complains all the time. So finally I decided to check my detailed e-bills in my mail. I saw that the rental for my plan has increased to around 399 per month, and some other charges all add up to around 1000 per month. Now I can't blame the customer care guy, because it was my carelessness that led to the whole mess. So what do I do? - Nothing. My laziness has grown to extreme levels by now, and knowing how much I have to wait talking to the IVRS if I call Vodafone customer care, I put it away for some other time.

So here I am paying around Rs. 1000 every month for my phone bill, and on top of that, my mom calls once in a while and shouts at me for not calling her. Then one day, I get this call from my beloved Vodafone customer care employee and I pick up. It was a girl.

'Hello good afternoon. Am I speaking to Mr. Anish?'

'Yes'

'Hi sir, I'm calling on behalf of Vodafone customer care. Our computers have found out that you are paying around Rs. 1000 every month, and most of this amount is because of STD calls......'

At this point, I’m pissed.

'…….We have introduced a new plan that can help you save a lot of money on your monthly bills'

'Hold on. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that I pay a lot of money to Vodafone every month?'

'Yes sir.'

'And you, who work for Vodafone, call me with a new plan that will help me reduce my phone bills every month?'

'Yes sir.'

'So that's good for me. Now how is it going to help Vodafone?'

'It's like...er...it's like.....we believe in customer satisfaction. That's why....er...'

'Ok. Then reduce my rental amount to 50 per month. That will improve customer satisfaction.'

'Er...Thank you for calling Vodafone customer care. Have a nice day'

'But I didn't call you. You called me'.

CLICK. She hangs up. I felt really good. I call the customer care number, and waits till they transfer me to a representative, and tells him I want to change my monthly plan to the basic one I had a couple of months ago.

I was so happy. I slept like a rock that night.

Bitter Oranje

116 minutes.

I watched my team hang on for 116 minutes, and the score was still 0-0. There were four more minutes to go for a penalty shootout, when the chances come down to 50:50 to win the trophy. And after seeing the 116 minutes already played, I was sure that was the only way we could have won it. Then, in a moment of genius by the Spaniards, all my hopes were shattered when Iniesta blasted a rocket into the bottom far corner of the Dutch goal and finished the contest with four minutes to spare. I know there are millions of Dutch fans around the world who felt the same way when that shot went in.

I was sad. I was sad the whole night. Then, the next day when I woke up and started thinking straight, I realized it was good that my team lost the finals. That is a difficult statement to make from someone who has been supporting the Oranje from the day he started watching international football. But believe me. I’m not drunk when I write this.

About ten years ago, when I started watching international football, I stood apart from everybody else I knew when I said my favourite team in the world was the Netherlands. It was not one of the obvious choices during that time, which were Brazil and Argentina. My childhood football hero was Edgar Davids. He was the master of freestyle when freestyle was not even invented. And to watch him play, I started watching the Dutch team games. That generation had a bunch of extremely talented players who were playing in big clubs in big leagues across Europe. Players like Edgar Davids, Cocu, Overmars, Zenden, Makaay, Bergkamp and Kluivert. These guys were my heroes. That was the best generation I’ve seen who have worn the Oranje jersey and went out on the field. But I was wrong. Looking back into the history books, I discovered greater individuals who have given more to football than anybody else. Players like Marco van Basten who was the best player in the world during his time. And then, the biggest name of them all, Johan Cruyff. The best player the Netherlands has ever produced. And the concept of Total Football which his team of 1974 gave to the world. Actually, the whole team of 1974 holds legendary status in football history for the way they played. Even today, the Dutch are known and respected by the way they play football - The total way.

Which is why I said I’m not sad that they lost the finals. A nation with such a beautiful history in football, who have given world class players like Cruyff and van Basten to the world, and who have defined the way football should be played - the total way, displayed a surprisingly startling strategy when they kicked around opponents and played disruptive football to try win the trophy that has eluded its greatest teams over decades. I cannot apprehend the fact that to win the biggest trophy in football, you can go to such extreme levels, where you consciously lose your integrity, and for a change play rugby in the FIFA world cup final match.

People have been criticizing the referee Howard Webb for officiating the match the way he did by handing out yellow cards to every person he saw wearing an orange shirt. But that is a biased reaction. He made a couple of mistakes in the overall course of the game, but then, he is Howard Webb. He makes stupid decisions all the time in the English Premier League. But that doesn’t hide the fact that the Dutch were playing negative football, with bits and pieces of Karate in it. They knew the only way they can have a chance against a Spanish side that resembled the Dutch team of 1974 was to kick them around, which made their game even more resentful. Accept it. The Spaniards were brilliant, and not just for the one final day. They played marvelously over the entire tournament, and finally scored the prize that has eluded them for so many years.

I’m sure I’ll see the Dutch lift the world cup trophy someday. They actually deserve it, for all the wonderful things they have given to the world of football. And that will be the day people will wash away the bitterness of the Oranje in 2010.

It doesn't work like that

'Ja Simran ja. Raaj ke saath ja. Is se zyada pyar tujhe aur koyi nahin kar sakta'

This is Amrish Puri's dialogue in the ending scene of the most successful movie in Bollywood history 'Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge', when he finally agrees for his daughter to marry a guy he hated all throughout the movie. It's one of the most famous love stories in Indian cinema, and a lot of people find inspiration in it. But there's a problem here. This doesn't work in real life. Life's not a two and a half hour movie, which always ends happily. Don't expect your girlfriend's father to forgive and accept you just like Amrish Puri did to Shah Rukh Khan. That's just a movie. An overhyped movie, with a typical Bollywood ending.

I might sound pessimistic. But listen to me. It doesn't work. If it does, you're a very lucky guy.

Believe in your love. Not in movies.