Sunday, October 19, 2008

Definite proof of aging

I just realized that over the years my favourite poem has changed, here are the two of them.
And apart from the greying temples and bulging waistline, that is a more concrete proof of aging.

Here are the two:
My current fav:

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,


And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

And my old favourite:

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

:(

Sunday, October 05, 2008

10% Loose Canon

Mr Zardari had caused the clock to turn full circle.

In the eighties, his wife threw her full weight behind the then nascent terrorism in Kashmir. In what could be termed as a total turn-around Zardari has named them as terrorists and not as freedom-fighters as they are called in Pakistan.

This is the most controversial action/statement in the short time he has spent as the president of Pak. And believe the list is already impressive and pretty huge.

What does it mean to India? Not much. An honest and true to is word enemy is preferable to an indecent and conniving ally. Zardari till now has only been true to his reputation. His manoeuvres to get to the president's seat have been none other than diabolical. But while doing these, he has been tactically very strong but very weak on strategy.

He is not going to last long and even if he does, is not going to cause big changes in Pakistan's policies. So just sit down with a bowl of pop corns and enjoy the show till it lasts.

Friday, October 03, 2008

Five monks of Indian Cricket


We met the Great One in 1989, when he introduced himself to us with high notes hit by bat and vocal chord. Tendulkar may have two children, but for my generation he is always favourite son. Then the rest came. In 1990, The Precise One, a scholarly warrior who unveiled his spinning craft with devotion; in 1992, The Defiant One, a steely, stylish man of amusing, aristocratic belligerence; in 1996, The Intense One, cricket's student who batted like a monk upholding a vow of discipline; and finally The Elegant One, who was a Japanese haiku master in a previous life.


And the article continues:
They were, and are, our champions, our companions, our obsessions, our sporting best days and our very worst, a part of the calendar of our lives. Remembering the last time I went home to Kolkata requires no thought: it's when VVS Laxman wrote his finest concerto. Whenever life seemed to get away from us, when the water dried in the tap on a hot day, and bosses stank, there was always them. When Tendulkar stood on tiptoe to drive, as if God had him by the collar, or Sourav Ganguly hit an off-side drive with such style he might well have been wearing a tuxedo, life somehow got better.


Some of the best lines I have read for quiet a while. Do enjoy the full article here:
http://content-ind.cricinfo.com/magazine/content/current/story/372146.html