Cricket: the de facto Uniform Civil Code

The role of religion, power, caste and community in our lives - especially in sharp contrast to its insignificance in the western world - causes me much angst. Hindu, Muslim, Brahmin, Kshatriya, MLA, Cabinet Minister and other considerations take precedence over merit, order, society, public good, nation, India.

And then there's cricket.

The betting scandals had long killed my fervour for cricket. That we were ranked second in the ODI ratings and first in Test ratings, I cared little for. Heck, I wasn't even sure if Dravid still played for India.

As the buzz of the upcoming World Cup got louder though, some spark ignited my fire again. The D/N matches - and most of the good ones and all the knockout matches were D/N matches - began at 1AM local time for us (and 2AM when we moved to DST). But I was up for it. I subscribed for the streaming service and adjusted my schedule accordingly. Grabbing 2-3 hours of sleep before the match and 1 hour in between innings became a routine. Midnight snacks became a regular meal, and Facebook was the medium to discuss the match real-time with friends and family. I had forgotten the agony of the 2007 World Cup, so I was sure we were going to make it to the quarter finals. But QF was all I was expecting - and the expectation dropped I guess, given that we were up against Australia for the QF.

In a solemn show of patriotism, 12 of us colleagues gathered in the office at 2AM to cheer for Team India - hoping we would win, but assuming this was going to be the last match. The victory that unfolded was of course, a precursor to a monumental and larger victory. Outstanding fielding and bowling followed by gritty batting saw us through. A billion hearts stopped for a few overs as we stumbled at 187/5 with 70+ runs to score against an Australian onslaught, but we did it.

The first wave of patriotic euphoria was evinced right after the quarter-final on Facebook and Twitter. As my good friend, Prasad Govenkar put it, "FB and Twitter would have had their fair deal of performance testing today. The real test would be on 30th March..". Indeed, the victory "polarized a unified wave" of support and euphoria.

Needless to say, that we were up against Pakistan in another epic battle gave the whole game a different hue. Ignoring the right/wrong, rational/irrational, hyped/well-deserved aspects of our attitude, the plain truth is, an India-Pakistan match does embody more than just the game of cricket. The undercurrents are too deep and strong to allow even the most rational of us to focus on just the cricket.

The already high-voltage atmosphere became super-high-voltage thanks to the media, Facebook, Twitter, blogs, Dr. Manmohan Singh's invitation to his Pakistani counterpart and in general, the intensity of collective sentiment. When Pakistan lost Afridi, I could already smell the firecrackers back in India. The law of averages had to postpone their act for another day.


Along with Team India, the fervour also climbed to the next level. April 2 was declared a state holiday in Maharashtra because police troops from all over Maharashtra were moved to Mumbai. Wankhede became a no-fly zone. 3,000 VIPs, diplomats, celebrities and mega-stars - including the Presidents of India and Sri Lanka - lined up to attend the mega show. Police barricades went up at 5PM the previous evening in a 1.5 kilometer periphery beyond the stadium. Facebook profiles took on the "Bleed Blue" badge. Meetings were cancelled and deadlines were pushed out. Families assembled and snacks were lined up. Cell and internet service providers geared up for the onslaught. Alarm clocks were set for 1:40AM - 20 minutes ahead of the match - some of us wanted to catch the national anthem before the match.

For an entire week before the event - and God knows for how long after the victory - little else mattered. All over the physical and virtual (read: Facebook, Twitter) worlds, we had only one identity: Indian. We were rooting for just one team: India. We all wanted the World Cup to be won by one country: India. Our clocks were tuned to just one timezone: India. I am not embarrased to say I had goose pimples when "Vande Mataram" started playing in Wankhede as the contest drew closer, tighter and more intense (though one may question the lack of neutrality of a World Cup host in that action). Nor that I felt a lump in my throat as I voluntarily sprang to my feet with a gut-racking yell when Dhoni hoisted Kulasekara for the winning six.

The celebrations outside India were equally overwhelming. El Camino Real was dotted with cars flying the Indian flag. My friend posted this video of the celebrations in his apartment complex in Sunnyvale, California:





And another colleague posted this video of celebrations in Artesia (near Los Angeles).

The Hindu, Muslim, Brahmin, Kshatriya, NRI, MLA, Cabinet Minister, Prime Minister, Bollywood Celebrity, Industrialist, Italian King Maker, Heir Apparent, Advertiser, Manufacturer, Banker, Broadcaster, Service Provider and common man had come together for a single-point agenda: cheer Team India. Bleed Blue. Jai Ho!

And while we're at it, one more round of applause for our 1983 hereos who did it without a third umpire, DRS, powerplays, streaming telecasts and a 1-crore reward:

Last but not the least, let's not forget the sacrifices and efforts of countless law & order personnel who stayed away from the match and their families to ensure order and everyone's safety.

Congratulations, India!

The Child is Father of the Man

I once read that timelessness and a wide range of perspectives & interpretations are key traits of profoundness. And that is the very profoundness I am experiencing of William Wordsworth's words "The Child is father of the Man". In his poem, "The Rainbow", William Wordsworth teaches us that one's formative years are in fact sooner than later in life, and thus highlights the importance of good upbringing and inculcating positive traits early in a child's life.

The last 26+ months - and especially the last 6 months - of parenting have given me a whole new perspective. To life and to how a Child is indeed the Father of man.

Here are some invaluable lessons I've learnt from my 2-year old, that I know will stay with me for the rest of my life and which I have hopefully learnt well:


Negotiation: Handling my-way-or-the-highway situations are part of every parent's life and before you know it, becomes all in a day's work. Distracting him from the pastry he got a glimpse of just before dinner. Convincing him that returning my "boring" cell phone in exchange for his "exciting" matchbox car is a fair trade. Getting him to finish his glass of milk. The list goes on. It takes little to get frazzled under these circumstances though in fact - and that's the lesson I've learnt - it takes even less to steer these situations to a happy ending.

Losing gracefully: True, I've learnt the ropes of negotiating, but that's about all I've learnt. I am not an expert by any standards. For every deal I win, I lose two. If not more. And I've learnt to concede gracefully. Yes, he managed to blow bubbles into the milk so it spilt out anyway. Yes, he proved that the cell phone can travel to the ground at a much higher speed than I had imagined. Yes, he kicked off his shoes sitting in the shopping cart. Again. No, he cares little for the vile threats I just made and the fact that it irritates me actually prods him on further. So there! Send your ego packing. Concede defeat. Dust yourself, get up and move on. Life goes on. (Of course, as far as [not] drinking his milk goes, life is teaching me a sweet lesson by coming full circle - and that's another lesson I've learnt)

Tact: Knife in hand. Tantrum at 3AM. Standing on a wet, glass-top dining table. More than 6 feet away from me and walking around with my iPad. No amount of enticement or intimidation will work in these situations. Neither the carrot nor the stick has any value. Any sign of excitement or agitation will only be counter-productive - or even harmful. The only recipe for happy endings in these scenarios is tact. Don't ask me to describe it here. I cannot. But I've learnt. At least I've learnt what tact is and its importance. Can't say I've learnt to be tactful, though. That'll probably take a few more years of training.

Perseverance: By far, the two most trying feats have been teaching him to eat by himself and his potty training. While the credit for both accomplishments goes 100% to my wife, the journey was filled with carpet-cleaning sessions (for which I will rightfully reclaim some credit), mutual frustrations (triangulated frustration to be precise - no pun intended; I am not a telecom engineer) and regularly laced with hope and despair. But nothing succeeds like success. Even if you have to try and try till you succeed.

Detachment: This one is a paradox. "Detachment" is the last thing I feel when I think of my 2-year old. Yet, he has taught me detachment like few other people and experiences have taught me. Detachment is a far more effective and far less corrosive solution to overcoming your anger. When I found him serenely gargling all over my laptop or when he jumped off the back of the sofa onto my neck as I was sitting there inobtrusively having dinner, I thought I was going to pop a nerve in my head (okay, yes, the second time he jumped on me causing me to drop my cold dessert on my legs, I did lose it, but let's not dwell on the inconsequential). What stopped me from in fact losing it on both these occasions was the look on his face. I was beside myself with rage, but in that split second before I really lost it, I saw the innocent flush on his face. He was excited at what he had done, because he had done something that he had never done before. There was no malice. No awareness of the consequences of what he had done. Just joy. Because he did what he had to. Because he felt like doing it. No, I did not spare the rod and risk spoiling the child, but that moment of detachment helped me cope with the mess at hand. And taught me an important lesson that comes in handy in my work life too.

Focus and Prioritization: I never knew kids could be so manipulative. I have time and again been hoodwinked. He will come grab my laptop when I am working and I will shoo him away. The third time I shoo him away, I succeed. Only to spot him 10 seconds later climbing into the 12-inch shelf that holds the DVD player and pulling at some wires. Obviously, I rush there to fix things. Only to turn and find him seated at my laptop grinning triumphantly at me. While this taught me to lose gracefully, it also taught me to deal differently with a bull in a china shop: don't try to protect the china - it is futile. Focus instead, on luring the bull out of the shop.

Patience: I hardly need to explain this one. Now I know why they say patience is the mother of all virtues. Alas, my quest to be a virtuous man remains incomplete.

And from this list, I have excluded the tangible skills of parenting itself, that I have learnt. Not to mention, growing awe and bewilderment at how our parents raised us. Without high-chairs, sippy cups, Barney and Caillou.

Indeed, the Child is the Father of man.

For those of you who are interested, here is the original poem:

The Rainbow


My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.


- William Wordsworth, 1802

Country rustic in Yankee Land

It was the year 2003. My first ever visit to USA. On an assignment with my company to meet with some important prospects to help close some deals.

We had this all important meeting with a potential client. A client whose reference would go a long way in helping forge strategic accounts in future. The client was at that time, one of "America's Top 10 Advanced Computerized Healthcare Organizations" and very high on the list of "America's 100 Hot Wired Companies". The participants in the meeting included the drivers of information technology systems for the organization at the national-level. You can well imagine therefore, how carefully groomed and meticulously prepared our team was (which included the entire US office other than the CEO and our receptionist). With the time we had spent preparing the demo, I thought we were well-prepared. Well, we were well-prepared; no doubt, but only for the demo.

I was a little nonplussed therefore, when, following the smartly-suited executives, an elegant lady walked in, dressed in a startling purple outfit. Oh well, nothing like a little colour in a medical outfit, I thought. (No pun intended). Her outfit also looked like a robe I normally thought people wore at bed-time, but I hardly knew a thing about women's clothing (back then), so I dismissed it at that. But something drew my eyes towards her again. Er... um... well, to her outfit. I thought even by cheery standards, the purple was still a little too purple. It was then that I saw - for the first time - her hat. Yes, people do wear hats. Maybe not in a corporate meeting, but I am willing to make allowances for that. What I could not digest was that she was wearing a witch hat. Given that there had been no alcohol in my bloodstream for more than two metabolic cycles, I knew I could trust my eyes. (For those of you who were distracted by those metrics, rest assured there has NEVER been any alcohol in my bloodstream). But even so, to be sure, I blinked, hoping against hope that the darn hat would disappear when I opened my eyes. The confounded thing hadn't moved. And I realized this time that it had the same purple hue as her robe. With a lacy rim. (Gulp!). I blinked again. I had not only lost hope about that hat disappearing, but also, I was sure I would see something more this time. I was right. I noticed her earrings this time. Her earrings were a spider's web. Complete with a spider.

She was in a witch's outfit!

My stomach turned. If initially I was concerned that I was not concentrating on the meeting underway, by this time, I couldn't care less about the meeting. A gut-wrenching yell to "Mommy" was ready to leave my lips.

For the first time in the last 2 hours my stomach was turning for reasons other than the demo at hand. I glanced at my colleagues, but they didn't seem to have noticed. "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" had been keeping this lonely soul company in the corporate apartment for the past several nights. I had on several occasions - including the previous night - allowed myself to be engrossed in the book into the wee hours of the night. I sighed, wishing that I had slept well the previous night.

And then - with a surge of relief - the "mystery" was solved. It was 31-October; Halloween. I wasn't seeing things after all. People dress up in Halloween costumes on 31-Oct and - you have my word for it - even go to work in those costumes. While I silently cursed my colleagues for not having warned me earlier, the experience helped. Or else I would have surely screamed on seeing the "skeleton" later in the day, in the rest-room washing his hands. But I was a man by then. I actually beamed at him. He beamed back at me. We didn't see the need to make any bones about his costume. (Pun intended, of course).

Happy Halloween!