Was I imagining things or did all South Asian cricket teams gel at the same time today? In exactly the same manner?
First the Sri Lankans demolished the West Indians for 130 all out, with some ferocious pace bowling from Lasith Malinga and the practised guile of Murali, then proceeded to pile on a hefty lead of 350+ (a huge score considering the low scoring nature of the match). Later in the day, India proceeded to slog their way to 250, then with a calculated and sublime seam bowling effort reduced South Africa to nothing for six. Further down the day, back home in the sub-continent, the Pakistani pace attack struck late to keep the West Indies down to 230-ish, despite a century from Shivnarine Chanderpaul (the immigration officer who let his family leave India should be found and shot).
I think the South Asian teams have finally learned the value of technique, application and patience on bouncy tracks. Sub-conti teams have also learnt to dish out the same out/in-swingers, yorkers and bouncers that have been making them miserable just a few wees ago. Malinga, Murali, Sreesanth, Zaheer, Gul and Naved have shown that Sub-conti bowling attacks are far from tooth-less and can actually be match winners, especially when the much vaunted brown batting line-ups arent exactly in the best of form. That being said, select batting stars have also gotten the measure of the bouncy wickets on offer in New Zealand and the West Indies. Most notable among these these are Kumar Sangakara and Sachin Tendulkar who are in blistering form, though both slightly unlikely in their most recent innings.
In summary, South Asian teams seem to be on the upswing and we can only hope that they maintain this momentum and peak during the World Cup. A repeat of the dismal Champions Trophy performances would really be an insult to Cricket's largest fan-base.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
India Rocks...but...Part 1
I've just returned from the mothership, the mainland, the land of the Blue Billion. India is truly a vast and amazing place. It is diverse to a head-splitting extreme from the Leela Palace Hotel resplendent between two shady buildings in Banglore to the Sikh businessmen in a Hugo Boss suit calmly stepping over a weepy, deformed beggar. But these are all cliches you've heard before, from countless writers: novelists, traveller, businessmen and journalists. Most of these distinguished folk are far more gifted pensmen than I am, so I will spare you my Indian metaphors. But I do want to share with you my far more easily expressed observations on the failings of modern India.
Delhi for starters. This City of Djins is probably one of the driest, dustiest cities known to man. The fact that all public transport has been converted to LNG does not hide the fact that the single-minded pursuit of power, money and position has trumped environmental concerns since the city's inceptions. The city looks brown from the air and the expected dustbowl materialises as soon as one steps out of the international joke that is Indira Gandhi International Airport (it is puny, dirty, inefficient and the security would give the most lax Sri Lankan official the runs). The air hangs thick with an exotic cocktail of fine dust, exhaust fumes and all manner of organic smells. I contracted a cough the day I landed and it has not left me yet. Late at night, the environment of Delhi decides that strangulation is not vile enough revenge on its pesky human inhabitants, and the air congeals into the oft-quoted "fog". These three letters scarely begins to describe the solid wall of dangerous looking gas that engulfs pedestrians, slows traffic and grounds planes.
The fog, dust and general atmospheric malaise of Delhi can all be attributed to the city's love affair with automobiles. The roads of Delhi resemble a giant Maruti factory. Even teenagers zip around in these pint-sized miracles of subsidized Indian manufacturing. These "kids" are speed demons in their own mad-cap manner. They change lanes the way normal people change socks and the sound of horns deafens even the blaring Punjabi rap emnating from most of the vehicles. The city's elder citizens crawl through the city's hour-long, sprawling, snaking traffic jams in stately, spotless luxury vehicles, earnest Ambassadors or smoke spewing second-hand-imported-sedans. An irony of Delhi (and India's) destructive car culture is that the names of the children of any family are gaily embalzoned on bumper sticks (Rahul and Rani are apparently very common names in India), while the fuel-stained spewings of the family vehicle destroy those very children's present and future health. Private citizens of Delhi may take offence at my critique of Delhi's car culture and respond that the city's public transport infrastructure is inadequate, unsafe and unhealthy. This is true, but in the words of a journalist I recently met, I am simply describing, not proscribing.
Apparently the water in Delhi is also undrinkable, resulting in the famed "Delhi Belly". The description of this dreaded affliction caused me to live with dry lips over my four day stay in the city. Despite these precautions though, I still contracted The Belly from street food eaten the day before I left to Goa. An entire day in paradise was wasted vomiting and purging, then sleeping off the resulting dehydration and exhaustion. The one useful tidbit of advice I can offer an traveller to Delhi is: Dont be Cheap. The city has excellent restaurants serving every cuisine available, please shell out and save yourself hours of agony. Ofcoure the more adventurous of you will ignore my advice and try street food come what may, for its smell, colour and taste entice you like the most buxom of Bollywood starlets. Then again, there are also idiots who base-jump for the same sort of cheap thrill. To each his own.
For the by-now-engraged Delhi-ite reading my blog, I have come to the end of my discussion of the failings of India's capital city, literally its gateway to the wider world. I really did love the city, for the beauty of its buildings and people, for the exquisiteness of its food, for the vibrancy of its colours, for the vitality of its roads and markets, the value and range of its shopping and the warmth and hospitality of my Delhi-ite friends. But, as in India in general, the greatness of Delhi is simply the iron will of Indians trying to make do with a badly planned, poorly policed and broadly incorrigible city who's form and growth is far, far beyond their control. The citizens of Delhi have to take control over a city they so clearly-dearly love, to ensure that businessmen, tourists and Indians themselves can be welcomed by a truly global Capital.
Delhi for starters. This City of Djins is probably one of the driest, dustiest cities known to man. The fact that all public transport has been converted to LNG does not hide the fact that the single-minded pursuit of power, money and position has trumped environmental concerns since the city's inceptions. The city looks brown from the air and the expected dustbowl materialises as soon as one steps out of the international joke that is Indira Gandhi International Airport (it is puny, dirty, inefficient and the security would give the most lax Sri Lankan official the runs). The air hangs thick with an exotic cocktail of fine dust, exhaust fumes and all manner of organic smells. I contracted a cough the day I landed and it has not left me yet. Late at night, the environment of Delhi decides that strangulation is not vile enough revenge on its pesky human inhabitants, and the air congeals into the oft-quoted "fog". These three letters scarely begins to describe the solid wall of dangerous looking gas that engulfs pedestrians, slows traffic and grounds planes.
The fog, dust and general atmospheric malaise of Delhi can all be attributed to the city's love affair with automobiles. The roads of Delhi resemble a giant Maruti factory. Even teenagers zip around in these pint-sized miracles of subsidized Indian manufacturing. These "kids" are speed demons in their own mad-cap manner. They change lanes the way normal people change socks and the sound of horns deafens even the blaring Punjabi rap emnating from most of the vehicles. The city's elder citizens crawl through the city's hour-long, sprawling, snaking traffic jams in stately, spotless luxury vehicles, earnest Ambassadors or smoke spewing second-hand-imported-sedans. An irony of Delhi (and India's) destructive car culture is that the names of the children of any family are gaily embalzoned on bumper sticks (Rahul and Rani are apparently very common names in India), while the fuel-stained spewings of the family vehicle destroy those very children's present and future health. Private citizens of Delhi may take offence at my critique of Delhi's car culture and respond that the city's public transport infrastructure is inadequate, unsafe and unhealthy. This is true, but in the words of a journalist I recently met, I am simply describing, not proscribing.
Apparently the water in Delhi is also undrinkable, resulting in the famed "Delhi Belly". The description of this dreaded affliction caused me to live with dry lips over my four day stay in the city. Despite these precautions though, I still contracted The Belly from street food eaten the day before I left to Goa. An entire day in paradise was wasted vomiting and purging, then sleeping off the resulting dehydration and exhaustion. The one useful tidbit of advice I can offer an traveller to Delhi is: Dont be Cheap. The city has excellent restaurants serving every cuisine available, please shell out and save yourself hours of agony. Ofcoure the more adventurous of you will ignore my advice and try street food come what may, for its smell, colour and taste entice you like the most buxom of Bollywood starlets. Then again, there are also idiots who base-jump for the same sort of cheap thrill. To each his own.
For the by-now-engraged Delhi-ite reading my blog, I have come to the end of my discussion of the failings of India's capital city, literally its gateway to the wider world. I really did love the city, for the beauty of its buildings and people, for the exquisiteness of its food, for the vibrancy of its colours, for the vitality of its roads and markets, the value and range of its shopping and the warmth and hospitality of my Delhi-ite friends. But, as in India in general, the greatness of Delhi is simply the iron will of Indians trying to make do with a badly planned, poorly policed and broadly incorrigible city who's form and growth is far, far beyond their control. The citizens of Delhi have to take control over a city they so clearly-dearly love, to ensure that businessmen, tourists and Indians themselves can be welcomed by a truly global Capital.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Peace and its Perils - More lessons from Nepal?
Though peace seems a distance prospect in Sri Lanka, a recent BBC article on Nepal really got me thinking. Apparently the Moaists rebels, especially "empowered teens", refuse to give up their weapons, even when expressly ordered to do so. They say that they have grown to like the gun culture and see weapons as the source of their respect and legitimacy and thus, giving up their weapons is the same as surrendering. They have thus far resisted the rehabilititation process to the point of "threatening rehabilitation workers" and "hiding knives in their beds".
I see disturbing parrallels with the Sri Lankan scenario in that both sides employ vast legions of very young soliders, who's dreary, poverty-wracked lives have been uplifted and given meaning and respectability by fighting the good fight. The LTTE cadres will be worst hit by peace, as they will have lay down their arms and try to integrate themselves in a country that, at best, think they are all a bit mad. Further, carrying a gun and being part of the world's best terrorist organisation and one of the largest drug smugglers is South Asia is much easier than growing rice or chilli in Trinco, or studying Computer Science in Jaffna. There is atleast a reward for the risk.
It is clear that former terrorists will have to be rehabilitated into an economic, social and political system that they abandoned in the first place. It will be not enough to simply devolve power to the big-wigs and political apparatus of Terrorist groups, the demands on the grassroots cadre will have to be addressed and actually provided for. If not, hopes for peace could disintegrate into a thousand personal wars.
For some of my readers, all this TLC for former terrorists might sound shocking coming from me. Let me assure I am not their side. How any terrorist organsiation comes to the negotiating table (except in surrender), is a perversion of civilised human conduct and undermines the legitimacy of a country's entire political and legal system. But we live in times where great prosperity greets times of peace and great hardship results from war. We therefore have to embrace peace. At any cost.
I see disturbing parrallels with the Sri Lankan scenario in that both sides employ vast legions of very young soliders, who's dreary, poverty-wracked lives have been uplifted and given meaning and respectability by fighting the good fight. The LTTE cadres will be worst hit by peace, as they will have lay down their arms and try to integrate themselves in a country that, at best, think they are all a bit mad. Further, carrying a gun and being part of the world's best terrorist organisation and one of the largest drug smugglers is South Asia is much easier than growing rice or chilli in Trinco, or studying Computer Science in Jaffna. There is atleast a reward for the risk.
It is clear that former terrorists will have to be rehabilitated into an economic, social and political system that they abandoned in the first place. It will be not enough to simply devolve power to the big-wigs and political apparatus of Terrorist groups, the demands on the grassroots cadre will have to be addressed and actually provided for. If not, hopes for peace could disintegrate into a thousand personal wars.
For some of my readers, all this TLC for former terrorists might sound shocking coming from me. Let me assure I am not their side. How any terrorist organsiation comes to the negotiating table (except in surrender), is a perversion of civilised human conduct and undermines the legitimacy of a country's entire political and legal system. But we live in times where great prosperity greets times of peace and great hardship results from war. We therefore have to embrace peace. At any cost.
Emergency Law imposed - Repressive or Required?
The next few months will be a testing time for ordinary Sri Lankans as the security forces have been given sweeping powers to stop, question, arrest and interrogate anyone they deem a threat to national security. In summary, its a hardcore version of the U.S anti-terror bill. The results on Colombo life will be grave.
Tamil people in Colombo are already edgy from the one-every-three-km security stops, and the imposition of the Emergency Law will do nothing to relieve the tension. I think we'll see a huge decrease in the night-time festivities and other outdoor socialising. Further, my pet peeve of airport security and customs will be be exacerbated as the security forces take every effort to root out terrorism in the commercial and tourist nerve centre of the country.
I am really torn on this law. On the personal level, as Tamil on holiday in Sri Lanka and who will be holidaying in India, I am extremely concerned. I expect to be harassed or question at every turn. As a Sri Lankan though, I feel sad to say that there is really no other choice for the Sri Lankan government. Fighting an enemy that uses suicide bombers and sleeper cells, really involves treating every citizen as a potential combatant.
I pray that the Sri Lankan security forces show restraint and do their job in an efficient and civilized manner. I also hope that nothing untoward happens to any citizen of Sri Lanka, Tamil or Sinhala. The one thing our country doesn't need is more people bearing grudges.
Tamil people in Colombo are already edgy from the one-every-three-km security stops, and the imposition of the Emergency Law will do nothing to relieve the tension. I think we'll see a huge decrease in the night-time festivities and other outdoor socialising. Further, my pet peeve of airport security and customs will be be exacerbated as the security forces take every effort to root out terrorism in the commercial and tourist nerve centre of the country.
I am really torn on this law. On the personal level, as Tamil on holiday in Sri Lanka and who will be holidaying in India, I am extremely concerned. I expect to be harassed or question at every turn. As a Sri Lankan though, I feel sad to say that there is really no other choice for the Sri Lankan government. Fighting an enemy that uses suicide bombers and sleeper cells, really involves treating every citizen as a potential combatant.
I pray that the Sri Lankan security forces show restraint and do their job in an efficient and civilized manner. I also hope that nothing untoward happens to any citizen of Sri Lanka, Tamil or Sinhala. The one thing our country doesn't need is more people bearing grudges.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Off to see Big Brother...aja aja aja aaaaaah
In the middle of Colombo, there is a huge poster of Mahinda Rajapakse shaking hands with Manmohan Singh, with a caption that reads "New strong relationship with Big Brother". This poster is a symbol of the new spirit of Indo-Lanka ties. Sri Lanka no longer gets to deride India as its struggling, rustic, poverty-ridden neighbour, but rather has/is forced to recognise/use its superpower neighbour. Big Brother really does watch over us all in South Asia these days.
I'm off to see the newer, richer Goonda on the block come Thursday. The ticket has finally been purchased. I will be landing in Delhi on the 7th afternoon. By the 7th night I should be eating Punajabi-by-Nature food and head-bobbing to Jalaakthikaaajaaaaaaaaa. The 8th should bring a hangover and new experiences as I travel to Agra, to see the Taj Mahal, the most magnificent monument to love and most convincing argument for birth control (Mumtaz Mahal died giving birth to her 14th child). Sunrise on the 9th will see my jetting to the most sun-kissed of Indian Shores, Goa. After venerating the never-decaying body of St. Francis Xavier, its off to the beaches, pubs and raves for a not entirely spiritual 3 evenings. I will be returning to Delhi on the 12th and catching the next flight to see the loved one and other friends in Bangalore. Or Bengaluru. In the city of boiled beans, I will most probably be catching up on Tamil and Telugu television, my friends in that city not being the most happening people in town. Or they might surprise me. I could very well be sipping Black Russians in the FTV bar for all I know. Mystery and pleasures of the flesh await and abound. On the 15th, its back to Delhi and a race to the airport to catch my flight back to Colombo.
Like any true expatriate, I am as home sick in Colomob as I am in Singapore (well maybe a BIT less). In light of my recent Desi-isation, I hope that India will make feel at home for a while. I will be sure to keep you guys informed, so watch this space.
I'm off to see the newer, richer Goonda on the block come Thursday. The ticket has finally been purchased. I will be landing in Delhi on the 7th afternoon. By the 7th night I should be eating Punajabi-by-Nature food and head-bobbing to Jalaakthikaaajaaaaaaaaa. The 8th should bring a hangover and new experiences as I travel to Agra, to see the Taj Mahal, the most magnificent monument to love and most convincing argument for birth control (Mumtaz Mahal died giving birth to her 14th child). Sunrise on the 9th will see my jetting to the most sun-kissed of Indian Shores, Goa. After venerating the never-decaying body of St. Francis Xavier, its off to the beaches, pubs and raves for a not entirely spiritual 3 evenings. I will be returning to Delhi on the 12th and catching the next flight to see the loved one and other friends in Bangalore. Or Bengaluru. In the city of boiled beans, I will most probably be catching up on Tamil and Telugu television, my friends in that city not being the most happening people in town. Or they might surprise me. I could very well be sipping Black Russians in the FTV bar for all I know. Mystery and pleasures of the flesh await and abound. On the 15th, its back to Delhi and a race to the airport to catch my flight back to Colombo.
Like any true expatriate, I am as home sick in Colomob as I am in Singapore (well maybe a BIT less). In light of my recent Desi-isation, I hope that India will make feel at home for a while. I will be sure to keep you guys informed, so watch this space.
Akhtar and Asif back - but is it fair?
A three man Pakistan Cricket Board tribunal has decided, 2 to 1, that Akhtar and Asif had unknowingly consumed steroids as part of their supplement dosage. While I am overjoyed at the prospect of Pakistani pacemen force-feeding Aussie and South African batsmen some of their own medicine, I have serious reservations about the effects the PCB's unilateral decision will have on doping in cricket:
1. The PCB has unilaterally declared Akhtar and Asif not-guilty of doping. The ICC has yet to even comment on the matter and the World Anti-Doping Agency is toothless in this jurisdiction. Does this mean that any cricket board can exonerate their players of doping charges? That too without unanimity, but rather 2-1 in 3 man tribunal. What if Tendulkar is caught cheating, or Jayasuriya. Surely the respective boards would love to save their careers and the team's chances. Shouldn't the ICC be the body with the final say on this matter.
2. Asian teams risk losing the goodwill of other teams in the sport. We got our way with Darrell Hair. If we want cricket to remain non-politicised, South Asian teams should be more responsible when playing by the rules. Akhtar and Asif were found with banned substances in their body. The fact that they may have not knowingly ingested them, is a failure of the Pakistani Cricket establishment and not really the concern of the ICC, or the other teams.
3. I can see Akhtar and Asif being sledged and abused if they play again. While this would still be untoward and unseemly, it would be very hard to fault the other teams. This creates deadlock and an atomosphere that is completely against the spirit of cricket.
4. It sets a ridiculous precedent. If Asif and Akhtar have their bans lifted, it will be plain for all to see that stars, South Asian stars, do not get punished for doping. Given the current miserable state of Indian and Sri Lankan cricket, could a doped-out Suresh Raina or Attapatu (two players in dire need of help) be next?
Asif and Akhtar may be indispensable to Pakistani cricket, but are they really worth ruining the whole game for?
1. The PCB has unilaterally declared Akhtar and Asif not-guilty of doping. The ICC has yet to even comment on the matter and the World Anti-Doping Agency is toothless in this jurisdiction. Does this mean that any cricket board can exonerate their players of doping charges? That too without unanimity, but rather 2-1 in 3 man tribunal. What if Tendulkar is caught cheating, or Jayasuriya. Surely the respective boards would love to save their careers and the team's chances. Shouldn't the ICC be the body with the final say on this matter.
2. Asian teams risk losing the goodwill of other teams in the sport. We got our way with Darrell Hair. If we want cricket to remain non-politicised, South Asian teams should be more responsible when playing by the rules. Akhtar and Asif were found with banned substances in their body. The fact that they may have not knowingly ingested them, is a failure of the Pakistani Cricket establishment and not really the concern of the ICC, or the other teams.
3. I can see Akhtar and Asif being sledged and abused if they play again. While this would still be untoward and unseemly, it would be very hard to fault the other teams. This creates deadlock and an atomosphere that is completely against the spirit of cricket.
4. It sets a ridiculous precedent. If Asif and Akhtar have their bans lifted, it will be plain for all to see that stars, South Asian stars, do not get punished for doping. Given the current miserable state of Indian and Sri Lankan cricket, could a doped-out Suresh Raina or Attapatu (two players in dire need of help) be next?
Asif and Akhtar may be indispensable to Pakistani cricket, but are they really worth ruining the whole game for?
Australian Cricket - a great kick up the arse for the rest
Anyone who watched Australia turn the 2nd Ashes test against England, in the last day no less, has to be getting closer to Aussie fan-hood, mate. What a game. What a team. Nine wickets and 169 runs in one day. I sat in shock throughout the entire spectacle.
The day opened with Warne spinning rings around the English batsmen. When Pieterson got bowled around his legs attempting a sweep, it was plain to see that Warne was back. He lifted the entire side, his enthusiasm having a visible effect on the more sedate McGrath and Clarke. The English were bundled out like a beggar out of a five start hotel.
The Aussie reply was nothing short of clinical. Langer signalled the Aussie plan of action by hoiking the first ball for four. What followed was pure channelled agression as the Aussies made England the butt of yet another dismal record. England's first innings score was the highest scored by a losing side in a Test match. Flintoff must be scratching his head raw and crying himself to sleep has he reflects on this most resounding displays of Aussie power.
I normally cannot stand Aussie cricket. It is loud, boorish and overly efficient. Aussie batsmen are ugly, all singles ticking over and hubris and its bowlers overly talkative and irritating. Even master craftsmen like Warne and McGrath sully the beauty of their work by excessive appealing and jawing at the batsmen. They dont have a Tendulkar, a de Silva, a Miandad. But they have a team, a unit, a veritable cricketing army. And can they play, oh hell can they play. Australia has delivered a telling warning to all other teams in the build-up for the World Cup. The Superpower can only be beaten with Nuclear Weapons.
Speaking of the World Cup, I feel that Aussie cricket needs another vote of thanks for its fans. While Aussie cricketers force everyone else to lift their game, their rabid fans bring in money by the million. Aussie stadiums are packed to the rafters by fans clamouring to see Australia beat another team black and blue. Their sledging and abusing aside, their money keeps the game's treasuries ticking over with the second most valuable and most commonly spent currency in world cricket (the Aussie dollar is a singularly ugly currency though, a shame). The passion for cricket is alive and well in the Land Down Under, and its a postive sign for the future of the game.
Australia and its fans have set a standard for committment to the game. Lets just hope that our Brown Boys can even compete against the fighting Kangaroos come West Indies 2007.
The day opened with Warne spinning rings around the English batsmen. When Pieterson got bowled around his legs attempting a sweep, it was plain to see that Warne was back. He lifted the entire side, his enthusiasm having a visible effect on the more sedate McGrath and Clarke. The English were bundled out like a beggar out of a five start hotel.
The Aussie reply was nothing short of clinical. Langer signalled the Aussie plan of action by hoiking the first ball for four. What followed was pure channelled agression as the Aussies made England the butt of yet another dismal record. England's first innings score was the highest scored by a losing side in a Test match. Flintoff must be scratching his head raw and crying himself to sleep has he reflects on this most resounding displays of Aussie power.
I normally cannot stand Aussie cricket. It is loud, boorish and overly efficient. Aussie batsmen are ugly, all singles ticking over and hubris and its bowlers overly talkative and irritating. Even master craftsmen like Warne and McGrath sully the beauty of their work by excessive appealing and jawing at the batsmen. They dont have a Tendulkar, a de Silva, a Miandad. But they have a team, a unit, a veritable cricketing army. And can they play, oh hell can they play. Australia has delivered a telling warning to all other teams in the build-up for the World Cup. The Superpower can only be beaten with Nuclear Weapons.
Speaking of the World Cup, I feel that Aussie cricket needs another vote of thanks for its fans. While Aussie cricketers force everyone else to lift their game, their rabid fans bring in money by the million. Aussie stadiums are packed to the rafters by fans clamouring to see Australia beat another team black and blue. Their sledging and abusing aside, their money keeps the game's treasuries ticking over with the second most valuable and most commonly spent currency in world cricket (the Aussie dollar is a singularly ugly currency though, a shame). The passion for cricket is alive and well in the Land Down Under, and its a postive sign for the future of the game.
Australia and its fans have set a standard for committment to the game. Lets just hope that our Brown Boys can even compete against the fighting Kangaroos come West Indies 2007.
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