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Showing posts from November, 2014

Not worth losing a life over

(This post has been published in Here: ) 

This piece has also since been published in The New Indian Express
Losing a wicket is a far far better thing to strive for. No batsman would say that under normal circumstances, but given Phil Hughes' death, he would certainly say that. 

The sight of a fast bowler tearing into a batsman has been one of cricket's most romanticized images, especially in the pre-helmet era. It was a test to the batsman's technique and mental make-up to duck a bouncer or take one on and dispatch it to the fence. Some of the most celebrated tales in cricket come from anecdotes where batsmen have withstood or batted on in spite of a broken nose or a jaw, samurai-like. It is also very macho, I guess, for both players and spectators to witness such episodes involving sweat, and blood, in some cases. Almost all modern-day sports are civilized and evolved versions of some ancien…

Going nuts, are you?

Several years ago, my brother and I took out our handy cam and went around the city capturing the essence of Bangalore on our recorder. It was on one such occasion that we went to the kadlekai parishe or the groundnut fair in Gandhi Bazaar. This was over a decade ago. That was my first brush with the parishe, but I have been there many times later. So, when this year's parishe came along, I decided to make a small trip. Much like most of our festivals, this fair is also rooted in an agrarian past. Typically, our festivals are about changing seasons, harvests, fertility. All rooted in the land we till. And yet, we have lost our roots with that lifestyle. Our festivals today are gaudy affairs, display of gold, silver and riches. And excessive gift-giving with no respect whatsoever for our bond with the soil and forces of nature. I'm digressing, so, back to the kadlekai parishe. There's a fascinating legend that describes how this festival came about.

A raging bull ravaged fi…