What, do we need a four this over?
Yesterday was a rare match. All that needs to be said about Sachin's effort was said here. I was however, most impressed by Young Sharma as Sunil Gavaskar kept calling him. He somehow reminded me of the young Inzamam. Not by delivery and shot selection, don't get me wrong there. I feel he still needs to learn there are vast tracts of land in a cricket field called square of the wicket. But his complete lack of expression, his definitive poker face brought back memories of the 1992 world cup semifinals, when Inzy would dispatch a delivery, walk towards his skipper, listen and nod with a completely blank expression and then take guard to send another through the covers.
This lad needs attention, tell you I !
Tomorrow's another day. The Punter and his pack are getting back on their horses.

Only this evening, I came upon this bit of knowledge. That my nom de guerre was actually more popularly known as this. At first I'd chosen the word as it was close enough to my real name and conveyed, to my mind, a sense of alacrity and deftness. No wonder, many people to whom I'd casually dropped my page address and who understandably forgot most of it, googled and landed on the homepage of a prophylactic brand. Once there, they must've watched the mesmerizing demo and forgot where they were going in the first place.
I, therefore, ( I would have continued like.. submit before your kind authority and so on..out of sheer force of habit ) take the liberty to kick around the header a mite, and since I'm wallowing in self-pity and in a Coen brothers frame of mind, I liberally borrow the byline. The photo was taken a furlong off my home early last Sunday morning. No I don't live in open country. But such is India.

Your pajamas... were stolen?
Yep. I wonder what this city is coming to if a bloke's pajamas are no longer safe.
( Lt. Kellaway & Stanley Ipkiss, The Mask)

My sentiments somewhat. I wondered the same wonderment last evening (with a different if) when I asked three friends, one after another, to come over and let's drink some fine whiskey and spend a great evening watching the DVD of No Country. (Ok, quite mediocre whiskey actually, but that's beside the point.) Each one of them declined, citing lame reasons. So here was I, and there was Anton Chigurh and all that gore. And my wife somewhere in the background constantly jabbering at me for exposing the kiddo to such mad violence.
.... Caught in that sensual music all neglect/Monuments of unageing intellect.
I won't try to review the movie. It's been reviewed enough. Apparently there's a raging debate on about who killed Llewelyn Moss, the Mexicans or Chigur. I really couldn't figure out, though I might just go with the former. And then again, if Chigur really was inside that motel room when the Sheriff entered, or, the Sheriff was just trying to picture him inside. I figured the later.
The point everybody seems to have converged on is that The Brothers Coen have come out of their creative rut back into the noir zone and dark humor. Well I dunno. The movie felt more dark than humorous. Although there were some brilliant flashes like this..
-Don't put it in your pocket.
It's your lucky quarter.
-Where you want me to put it then?
- Anywhere. Not in your pocket.
Or it'll be mixed in with the others
and become just a coin.
Which it is.
Priceless. But mostly it got so dark you could use a flashlight to catch that humor. I'll take their bright humor any day. Think O Brother. Or even Big Lebowski.
Having said that, it's a nicely crafted film all the way. Sort of grows on you. But it's not overwhelming. It certainly stays longer with you than Departed. But nowhere near as long as A Beautiful Mind, or Forrest Gump.
I'm drinking more of that mediocre stuff tonight and trying to watch George Clooney. It's my oscar week.

Self-explanatory. Though I know a few people who wouldn't be, let's not say famous, but " widely known" pretty much cuts it, if they were not writing such interesting blogs. And what can one say about this woman? I read about her before I took my first step into blogosphere.

No Spring Chicken
It's spring. I had to throw the blankets away last night. and this photo was taken this morn near my backyard off the garage. Is that a meadowsweat in the center? I was never good at these things. Googling doesn't help much either. Now that spring is officially here and India is playing a loserly match at Sydney today, I feel compelled to down a He-man 9000.
And I'm eating chicken for Sunday lunch, after eons. This part of the world is famous for h5n1. It's become an yearly phenomenon now, the wrath of the flu gods.Among the contradictory messages over media over the past month, nobody knew if one could die of eating chickens. Now the government has come clean on the issue. Funny thing, what they're telling us now were being said by The Poultry Lobby all along. They took out quarter page ads in national dailies. In the same issue of the same papers, State Government agencies would publish notices, in public interest, to stay away from poultry and eggs and not to go near where they are bred and sold. It created all sorts of confusion in educated people who read the news.
I went to the poultry market today to witness a sad scenario. Many of the chicken-sellers have gone home to till their lands or whatever. Respectable intelligentsia are still not seen buying poultry. Actually I've talked to many and found all that they need is moral support. Well, somebody had to be the pioneer. I guess I'd heard the call.
Just don't call on me if I get body ache and fever in a coupla days, will ya?

Easily this morning's most interesting news. Pity for the Khan. BTW, I think Salman is getting completely favorable media coverage these days. Everybody says he's fine. Including Madame Tussauds. Me, I always thought he was fine. I love the way he never emotes. He's developed a really cool method of thumbing his nose at high drama on screen. Most women always loved him anyways. It's lately that the menfolk have been converted. Guess it's got to do with his holding down a relationship with a bomb of a GF long enough. He should, however go a little easy on promoting his films on TV music shows. Doesn't seem to suit his style. That's so SRK.

I love Fergie. She'll forever be on my list of the sexiest women on earth. She had herself opined in an interview that her greatest asset is her really flat abs. Well, one tends to disagree. But with this number she's added her singing and songwriting abilities to her long list of assets.
And while we're dwelling on it, there's something I'd always wanted to know but was too afraid to ask. Namely, what the heck does black eyed peas mean?

An exchange

Lost and found friend : I went to Kolkata recently. Got a few great European films. One of Godard. When are you coming to Kol next?

Me : Can't resist those arty film festival type movies now can we? Send me the dvds.

Friend: i will olive to share the files. but not by post or courier. it is too risky. we need to meet in kolkata. someday.

my collections are not too bad. i have
kurosawa, bunuel, tarkovski, felini, godard, a bulk of bethoven, mozart, rashid khan, the whole set of seinfeld and the special ones.

what about urs?

Me: You will olive? What? Pardon me, am I technically challenged here?
Actually I was being jocund when I talked about the irresistibility of
film fest type movies in first person plural. I was never too arty, if
you can still remember. My choices, till date, are pretty much
mainstream. A li'l bit of Tarantino here, and a li'l bit of Bertolucci
there.And a dash of Coen Brothers and Farelli brothers thrown in
between. Not to forget Scorsese. For European, I've four of Monica
Bellucci's very best ( ah yes, the lady has done some great work, I
kid you not. Watch Irreversible.) And now for the classics. As in
films. These days I got something innate that hampers my ability to
concentrate while watching anything created before 1975. Not to put
too fine a point on it, One Flew ....seems to be the borderline.
anything beyond, like Seven Samurai, or, To kill a ...zzz is bound to
put me to sleep.Don't get me wrong, I love those films. It's just that
age maybe is catching up with me. I just can't keep awake that long.

Muzzak. If I will be allowed to brag, I have nearly all that the late
Nusrat Fatty Ali Khan Sahab ever lent voice to.I also have a sizeable
chunk of Abeeda, Billy Joel, Dylan, Kenny Rogers, Belafonte, Simon &
G, Norah Jones, Los Lobos, Shania Twain, Santana, Gypsy Kings,
Credence, Marc Cohn and anything you can think of on those lines.
A smattering of Pt. Bhimsen Joshi and a dollop of Ustad Amir Khan.
Symphonies I have none, save a cd or two.

I really envy your collection of Seinfeld. I'm hunting for the whole
set of Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister myself.

Love