The TED talk that introduced me to myself

 

This is based on the TED talk:

http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

This really rang a bell some where. It made some thing in my life clear to me. It rarely happens at my age and at my stage. that's why I am thankful that it has happened and I would like other people to know about this.

750words.com, the site I use for writing my diary, rates this writing as self important. I am sure, it feels like that so take the things below with a pinch of salt. But I think these thoughts are important for some people I want to reach. Especially some of the dear friends who have been with me and really know me. I want to get them thinking in the same direction. I am just hoping they will find this at some point in time in some dusty unvisited corners of the web and then they will understand and learn. So I am daring to publish this .

Expressing myself has always been a passion to me. This was from a young age. I found myself to be an excellent performer when I found that the subject mattered to me. At this point, I would be so involved with the subject, that it will be one for me to think about myself OR think about the subject.
One such thing happened today which took me back in to the early days of stand up mimicry in my school. I just built on day to day stories I was exposed to. I used material which I found on my way to school or day to day materials in use in school or at home. I took the Belan, I took car lining and built wonderful stories out of these. Most of the stories were impromptu. In fact I failed when I tried to practice before. Those were the days I was blessed by the stage goddess. The audience danced at my fingertips. If I remember it correctly, I continued doing this for around three years. It could have been a speech competition, it could have been an one act play or any thing else to do with standing in front of people and doing my stuff.
One thing I know now that I was always considering the forth wall to be opaque. That means that I would never consider and work for the forth wall, which in performing arts jargon is the spectators. I would be in the bubble of my own in front of a crowd of multitudes. And that was my key to success.
Several important things happened in life. These included matriculation, cut throat competition in college, movement from a small town atmosphere to a fully cosmopolitan environment like my engineering college.
The fun of performing and the ability to succeed has been visiting me on and off. On my best day, I would be the best programmer, I would be the best thinker, I would be the best designer and the best student. Thankfully for me some times it happened at the right times. I was at my puzzle solving and thinking best when these two opportunities arose, in terms of my first job and in terms of my most important jobs till now, that is MS. I did so well in the projects I liked. I sucked royally in the project which did not please me. Apart from far basic, physical limitations: for example, my pronunciation in case of English theater and enunciation and lack of thoroughness in understanding the interplay of emotions and convey them properly in my body language in case of Marathi theater; it was always my intentions and involvement that decided the extent of success or failure.
So I notice that my pleasure and my expectations have a great part to play in my success. Any thing, however easy it may be, can fail if it is not pleasing to me OR I am not interested in doing these.
But the most important thing I notice is that  I always failed when I did things to impress or please some one. Even theater gave me less pleasure when it was done to impress some one. Only when I did it for myself I liked it a lot. It is something like the TED talk I am referring to. Some higher entity would stay in the abode of my body and soul for these moments.In all these cases, I now notice that I never played to the gallery. The best / the ideal came to inhabit me for some fleeting seconds when I was the most dissolved in satisfying myself with the pursuit.
Now that this thought is complete, I am relieved. I am not a software engineer who draws a huge salary. I am not even the best coder and designer. I am not the best actor that ever was there. I am not the best stand up comic.
This is what I am. I am just a conduit to all these higher forms. My day to day life is blessed with comfort because I allow all these entity to reside in me from time to time. I keep my body and my thoughts clean for these higher life forms, which may be mine, but are short lived. I should do every thing in my capabilities to ensure that my body,mind and thoughts are clean to receive these. I should always ensure that my body is flexible,supple and strong enough to achieve greatness when the greatness comes to it.
Otherwise I am just a middle class small town boy. That is the reality and I should live this reality as profoundly and clearly as possible. Any deviation from this reality will not achieve anything else but just drive the djinns away who perform through me.

Watching alone isn't always fun (and some wistful thinking)

Read this article in cricinfo and it invoked many a sentiments:

http://blogs.cricinfo.com/diffstrokes/archives/2009/08/solitary_watching_isnt_always.php#more

There have been multiple phases I have been following cricket in.

Apart from the recent past, I observed that I had never watched cricket alone. Along with the advent of 20-20, this has been one of the major reasons cricket viewing has changed drastically for me.The advantage is definitely any match that happens in England. I immensely enjoy the deep discussions as well as bantering. Cricket as well as commentary definitely takes a very different form in the place where cricket was born.

But otherwise watching cricket alone is a dredge. Here are different phases in my cricket watching career:

Early childhood, I remember my Dad regularly stuck to the radio. I still remember that cold winter Divali morning when he woke me from my slumber and told me that India had won the world cup. I had started liking the game before I actually saw it being played. The whole Divali days my dad just talked about cricket and nothing else. He was always a very big and secrete fan of Viv Richards. There is a small anecdote about his cricketing abilities. Actually I never saw him play except once.This was years after the world cup win. There was a match between students and teachers in his school. The teachers were about to lose. Just like almost everybody, my dad also had made several silly mistakes. He did not run fast enough, fielded miserably and definitely a stark different between the quality of the two. He went in to bat 6 down.He started biffing the ball all around the park. When he eventually got out (and most prob lost the match), somebody compared him to Viv Richards. I have rarely seen him happier. He kept on the cricket hat till we reached home and carried around that Richards swagger for many days :)I do not recall much about 85 champions trophy-87 world cup. I sometimes sneaked in some television when I visited my rich friends. I faintly remember watching some moments of West Indian trip to India. But both, (the moments and rich friends)were few and far between. Though I remember Gavaskar scoring his only century in one dayers in his last one day match, and we losing it to England in the semis (most probably).

This era changed to very serious and dedicated cricket viewing when my uncle, who stayed just next doors, got a color television. We all, nephews and uncles got big kick out of watching channel 9 coverage of Aussie cricket. My uncle loved cricket but loved his sleep almost equally. We used to wake him up early morning(sometimes even 2.30-3.00 A.M.). He usually used to be torn between cricket and his sleep. We used try to tilt him toward cricket. I do remember watching Sachin's debut. This was India's tour to Pakistan. Srikanth was the captain and definitely at his nadir. Akram just killed him. Most probably this was the first time I saw a human being completely dismantled on the cricket field. It was a shame that a free spirited cricketer of Chika's caliber should face such a fate.And of course everybody remembers

The quality of cricket peaked at 92 world cup and maintained through till the 96 world cup. Most probably start of the golden era of cricket viewing (my as well as for the public in general, in my opinion). 92 world cup was played during my S.S.C. examinations. I couldn't view a lot of matches completely. But South African athleticism along with breathtaking telecast took this experience to a different plain. New Zealand tactics(Martin Crow-Mark Greatbatch's attacking cricket, Srikanth and almost every team failing to play Patel's spin in first 15 overs)and it going horribly wrong, Pakistan flair helped by generous dollops of luck.Jonty Rhode's athleticism(Inzy's run out especially)are some of the things I will never forget. This left a number of unforgettable images etched on my mind. But the most I remember are not happy ones. This can be called the theme of cricket. Its tragedies are lovelier than its triumphs. Somethings I do remember most vividly. Srinath's last ball heroics which triggered a comedy of errors where Venkatpathy Raju foolishly lost us a place in the semis is one of them. The South African tragedy of 1 run of 22 balls is the biggest. But the most interesting tragedy is the personal one. I had my last exam on the same day as the finals. It was geography, I think a smaller paper. I ran out half an hour earlier, as soon as finished writing the paper.I had calculated that I will still be able to catch half and hour of cricket where England will defeat Pakistan. But it was never to be. Half way to-wards home, I saw one of the regular cricket viewers walking slowly away dejectedly. I tried to stop him, but he just motioned me away. Pakistan was winning !! I stepped inside my uncle's house just to see final few moments where Neil Feirbrother was scratching around, delaying the inevitable. England had collapsed under the pressures of last innings dramatically. A recurrent tragedy in world cups was played again.Where England reaches finals just to lose it to somebody.

The next two years were pretty quiet, spent studying for HSC, make of break exam for the life. Cricket was even a lesser footnote during those times.

96 world cup came at the right time, just after I had settled down in PICT,first time in a hostel,first time away from home. We had only one television in the canteen. We used to gatecrash into the canteen every night. Everybody used to watch the matches very quietly in the beginning. But Once Sachin (and India) started to do exceedingly better, we lost control. Our strict administrator somehow overlooked the noise we made. It was as near as it can reach to viewing the match in the stadium. We used the tin covers of utensils as musical instruments, banging them together as loudly as possible. Quarterfinals with Pakistan was the match to remember. First half belonged to the final burst from Jadeja's blade. Second half was the Sohail-Prasad incidence. From the beginning something was amiss for the semifinals. We were restless and fought with each other. Despite the first over wickets, India allowed the Lankans to build back the innings. The disintegrating Eden Garden's track destroyed India's dreams in the second innings. Most notable picture for this edition? Indulger on song, Kambli in tears, Disilva masterfully guiding the run chase. This was the first time a team won the world cup chasing.

Then I moved to Bangalore and hit the golden age of cricket viewing. Abhya-Amya-nikhya-Ravi-mugz(reluctant)-Pad-Dina-gortyaa gang were the best companions anybody could have while watching a match. Many-a-times we watched it live at Chinnaswami. I saw Sehwag's debut, Kumble's 400 th wicket and a lot many events live.On the eve of 1999 world cup we went out and bought a television. (and a refrigerator). The cricket was sometimes exhilarating but the company was always !! Lara-Tendulkar discussions were as serious as Gandhi-Nathuram discussions. Match fixing was as big a black mark as was coffin corruption.

Slowly guys moved out, getting married one by one, jumping companies, making sense of their lives and those moments kept slipping though the fingers.

Now-a-days, cricket watching life has come a full circle. We, me and my Dad are the only ones following it together. We just have switched places, he do not *get* the 20-20 and I vainly try to explain it to him. He knows very little English, but sometimes delightfully understands the strategies discussed by the commentators as if by magic. Cricket has grown more aggressive and my viewing passion has actually mellowed a lot.

The cherry on the top will be if this full circle completes. My son will be almost of the same age in 2011 as I was in 1983.I will be almost of the same age as my Dad was then. If I could just say the same words that my dad said to me that morning "Bharataane worldcup jinkalaay", and initiate him in the family tradition of cricket watching, that will be a deservedly remarkable peculiar thing for this remarkable peculiar game.

Volare ... Kandhare

When Bauji-Bauji first suggested this song as my family song, my investigative juices boiled over.

What can be common between Gypsy's of Italian origin and a true blue Udgir based family?

Other than the high rates of procreation, there is very little to find.

If if bauji-bauji has been reusing sodawater bottle bottoms for glasses from ages, he has definitely not gone complete blind, so he will never suggest that I am as handsome as an Italian gypsy. I would strongly refute the similar claim about the fairer halves of our family, if I am doing it from the confines of a nuclear bunker. But you get the picture.

And then what would drive bauji-bauji to filter through archives of some alien language songs sung in last centuries to find a moniker for my family?
Though anybody who has lived with Bhaau for some time will vouch for a quaint underground stream of kindness under his rough TamBram exterior, I never expected it to erupt out so forcefully at this juncture.

Then I listened to the song and then it all was clear like an autumn night!! This was just old MPalya habit exibiting itself. Most of the Jyokes were just plays with words and yours truely was blamed for many of them, so this song was pretty apt.

Thank u Bhau :)