CRICKET... for Cricket Lovers Only

The Sun’s heat was beginning to torment me. But more painful was the situation, the match was placed in at that moment. I have been a lover of cricket ever since I knew what was happening was around me… ever since the first words came out of my mouth… ever since I made the first attempt to walk. Today is a match of my lifetime… I have waited for years to watch such a match… India playing against Pakistan after twenty years on Indian Soil. The truth is “what you call patriotism” sometimes addles you. It is that which changes you from a “cricket lover” to an “Indian Cricket Lover”. This transition tends to change a few things at the bottom of the heart. That is why the heart becomes heavy when Pakistan sets a massive target of three hundred and twenty runs for the hosts on such a historical match. If alone the Indian Batsmen had not started as they had done three hours ago, I am pretty sure that the Eden Gardens would have shown its own way of appreciating the guests. The typical Indian downfall started only after the second ball of the twentieth over. Surprisingly, the task of resurrection was taken up by the captain himself. It looked as if he had to lead the team to victory (if it was really possible) single handedly. Now the match has come to its end. One over to go and ten runs needed, with only one wicket in hand. Can the skipper finish it off? Just as it was the case in my mind, tension was building all over the crowd. There was absolute silence. The first ball was a single to give the strike to the skipper. The audience gave a roar the next ball when the ball was despatched to the fence. One more boundary for a tie. Can he do it?? He knew that it was he who must do it. The captain could feel the pressure under his belt as the speedster started his run-up. “Howwzzaaat?” At first it felt as if the Captain had reached the height of confidence and hence he just could not get out. But, a second thought said that the call was a close one… a very close call… very very close. What if India loses this historic match? The captain would be blamed as if he were the sole reason for the loss. What would we, the people of this country feel on losing such a match? Wont we feel ashamed to lose one of our arch rivals on our own soil?? And remember we are at the Eden Gardens… can you just imagine what would happen at the stadium… the immediate reaction from the crowd?? Yet, I felt something more was important. I raised my right hand index finger above my head.

Once Upon a Time In India

The sun had set in the village. The bellman sounded and announced something in the native language of the villagers. As he passed by the bushes he could hear a few men talking. Yet he went silently. A voice was heard, “Siva!!” “I too heard” “What are our next plans?” “Let us wait for the rest to come. I think they will be soon here.” They waited for another ten minutes and there came more persons. They quickly went into a hut. Jeevan shouted, “We must put an end to these atrocities. At least if not completely but for a while.” Saleem said, “The Mughal Emperor has been exiled and his two sons have been -- damn it.” Immediately, they murmured something and finally Saleem spoke, “Siva, we bomb the carriage tomorrow.” They dispersed.
The next morning in the British Bungalow the clock sounded 7.00 AM. There came a person in his long, blue nightgown. He had whitish hair and a shiny, rosy skin. He shouted, “Hey!” Immediately three servants stood before him. “Sir…” He spoke in a half-awaken tone, “Did you announce the fate of Bahadur Shah last night?” “Yesss Sir...” He then shouted, “Vincent.” His son did not turn up. He slowly walked to take his bath. He came out and asked, “What’s today’s meal – Indian or --?” “Sir, Today I have cooked your favourite non vegetarian dishes.” He started to have his meals. He tasted it heartily and congratulated the cook, “Extra ordinary.” He left the place and said to his driver and spoke, “I feel I would like to drive the cart myself...” “But Sir...” “What buts…?” “No nothing. Nothing Sir.” He then walked towards his cart. At the door, he could see his board, “General Clammedore” hanging upside down. He set it right at once and again called his driver, “Ram You better drive the cart.” He went inside his bungalow, drank a cup of water and came out. Then both set out on the chariot.
About fifteen minutes they should have travelled when Ram spoke, “Sir, I feel ...I feel there is some danger for you.” “I knew it. So long as you Indians play a double game, this country is at our disposal.” Ram kept quiet. “Well, What’s that?” But Ram had no time to speak. Almost immediately a knife from nowhere pierced into the heartless chest of Ram and he fell on the ground. Clammedore having understood that something strange was going to happen jumped out of the carriage. Immediately, his carriage was bombed, yet he survived. His carriage flew into the air to a height of about 10 metres and Clammedore’s eyes were anchored to it. Immediately he called his soldiers and asked them to round up the village. But both Saleem and Siva had escaped.
Clammedore quickly went back to his palace and came out with his huge rifle. He spoke at the top of his voice, “You bloody Idiots!! I give your men ten minutes time. The plotters are to be here now or else you know what I would do.” He then started counting on his watch – one, two, three and so on till ten. Nobody turned up. Clammedore again shouted, “Well, nobody’s come. I said I would do that. Guards!! Bring the youngest man out of every house and arrange them here. The whole village is going to watch me shoot them. When the first door was opened by one of his guards, a knife thrown had cut his thumb. Soon they could see the origin of the knife. There stood Saleem in the bravest fashion.
He immediately drew another knife and this time he targeted it at Clammedore. But Clammedore could notice him and he dodged the knife. A rope was thrown over Saleem’s neck and he fell to the ground.



Soon the rope was cut by the shot of a rifle and a voice was heard, “Saleem run…” It was Siva. But Saleem could not. He was on all sides surrounded by the British. Clammedore shouted, “Shit, It’s Shiva again. Catch him!!” Saleem hoped that Siva would manage to escape but soon both stood as captives in front of Clammedore.
He spoke, “How dare you do this non sense? For the past three months I have been noticing your actions. Do you really want to exhibit your bravery? Let us see now. Display your skills now. You are tied and surrounded by your enemies. Try to escape. I know – It is not possible for you to do that.” Both Saleem and Siva stood erect facing the sun. “What the hell you do? Can’t you open your ugly mouths? If you don’t speak now you will not have a chance to do it after. My sword will have to peep into your eyes then.” When he was about to draw his sword he heard Siva, “Saleem, Do you think we must talk to these cowards?” Saleem replied, “I don’t think we really need to. Lets rather lose our eyes—is it not?”
Clammedore continued, “Cowards --- You call the British cowards?!? Don’t think too much of yourselves. Today is the last day of your life and you will return back to the soils. Why do you waste your time in speaking of cowardice and bravery?” His voice softened, “I give a final chance. Serve us. Join the British army.” Both remained silent. Their legs did not move. Their hands were still. They stood like statues.
It was then Clammedore realised that there was no use in talking to these people. “Get ready to hang these two.” He then turned towards Siva, “Okay!! The last chance. State your last wish. Normally we don’t ask these things but remember you are special to me.”
Even then both stood still. Clammedore spoke, “And once again no talks…And I think your father is going to face the same situation that your Mughal Emperor faced three days ago. You know what happened?” As he spoke his face started to smile which slowly turned into a wild laughter. “When he wanted to see his sons before exile – you know what we did – we gave him the heads of his sons. You must have seen him cry…That bloody…” His wild laughter echoed throughout the village that stood watching the scene in silence. “The Mughal Emperor ….his two sons…heads...ha ha!!”
But slowly, there were two other voices laughing along with that if Clammedore’s. He was shocked. His eyes slowly changed and he asked in a really serious tone, “Why … Why do you both laugh…?”
Siva spoke, “Well, instead do you want us cry for what has happened…?” Clammedore could not understand what he spoke. “What … What happened?”
Siva continued to laugh, “Ha…Ha…Saleem I am really unable to control my laughter. You better recite him.”
It was Saleem’s turn. “Our Emperor, at least he took his son’s heads with great grief!! But you…” Siva continued, “None in this world… Nobody other than you can really enjoy his own son’s heart for a good meal.”
As both of them stood laughing, a scream was heard “Vincent”. Bullets pierced through their hearts and they fell on the ground.

This Is What I Call Love

Four years abroad were just like being at hell without seeing her. When I last met her, she was as beautiful as ever with a little sorrow at her heart. Even at that time, I knew that she had been engaged. I could not prevent it. I could read her mind then, she had not given her consent deliberately. She was forced to do so -- I am really unable to think of those things - that past. I knew in another hour, I would see her. Hope she has not changed her home. She had mailed me her marriage invitation which contained her address – in fact her husband's. I can not imagine how exactly I felt when I received that mail. Thought I had a strong heart..!! But...!!
Might be she has a child or two now. As I had expected, in about 45 minutes I reached the city. I called for an auto. The auto man had no trouble in taking me to that place. It was a very big house. I walked along the lawn and I knocked the door. Soon it was opened by a small girl – probably three years old. She was wearing a jacket and a skirt sort of a thing. She looked at me from top to bottom. “Whom do you want?” I suddenly had a doubt. I looked on my sides to find a name board. I confirmed that I was in the right place. I replied, “Can I see Nivedha?” “Excuse me – Mr. – She is my mom and I can not stand anybody disrespect her.!”
These words struck my heart like an arrow. “Excuse me – Mr. - Prof. Menon is our Professor and I can not stand anybody disrespect him.” “I am terribly sorry Nivedha”
“E…Excuse Mmmr!!” “Sorry again – Ms.Nivedha” “That’s better Mr. Siva” How can I ever forge those first words with her!
“I am terribly sorry Ms….” “Sivaranjani” “Can I see Mrs. Nivedha?” “That’s better. Please come in.” She ran off into the house. Yet I could hear her, “Mom! Some guy’s come looking for you…” It was then I heard her voice. “How does he look like? Did you ask his name?” “Oh…I forgot” Again the girl reappeared. But this time her mother followed her. It seemed to me as if she was busy at her work. Before looking at me she wiped her face with her hands and checked her face in the mirror, set her kumkum right and then raised her eyes at me.
“What’s your name?” But Nivedha replied her question looking at me, “Ranjani, get in. I know him.” Our eyes were fixed. Then Ranjani again starred at me from top to bottom and ran into a room. It was me to speak first, “H…How are you?” “Fine...” She asked me to sit on a chair. I took that seat. She asked me the same question. I gave her the same answer. “Where’s your husband?” “H... He’s gone to work. You have not seen him right? He’s right behind you – I mean his photograph.” I turned back. There was a single wallpaper – a photograph of Nivedha and her husband. Even the hall was full of small photos of the family. “Neatly maintained”, I remarked. “That’s my job – it can’t be otherwise just because I have been with you for a very long time. I should have mastered atleast some of your special arts.
I thought of telling her, “I still love you and nobody can really stop me from doing that.” But I could not do that. I knew her very well. She would not … Yet she would not have, indeed could not have thrown me out of her heart.
“Just a minute, let me bring you your favourite drink – dry coffee. You should not have been able to get that in America.” She was right. She disappeared into the kitchen and Ranjani reappeared with a photograph in her hand. She was silent first and then she whispered something into my ears, “Are you Mr.Siva?” “Yes!” “Please come with me” She led me into the inner most sanctum of that home and then gave to me a paper- a letter.
“My papa had told me that you would definitely come here one day and he had asked me to give this to you. Mom does not know about this. So please keep this a secret.”
I got that letter from her and started reading it in my mind.

“Hi Siva,
Think you know me. And I know very well about you. Nivedha has told me everything. I still have guilty feeling that I have taken something of yours away from you. I really don’t know if I will be able to meet you in person and apologise for that. That’s why I am writing this for you. My daughter is quite matured and clever you know – just like Nivedha! Think she should do this perfectly – I have given her your photograph. Nivedha has become a part of my family and it’s my duty to look after her. But I pretty well know that I won’t live long enough to do that to perfection . You see I need your help. I think you understand what I mean. She is yours. She needs someone after me and it would be the best if that someone is you –the one who has carved a temple in her heart. So please…
Sorrily
Shravan.”

Should all this happen to my Nivedha? She must have belonged to me. Tears flowed down my eyes. I turned back and there she was standing looking at the paper in my hand. There was no need of any explanation. She understood that I had become aware of the fact that her husband had died. She knew what I had in my mind. We walked together to the hall. She was the first to speak, “Siva…You see …don’t ask me to do that alone. I am prepared to do anything for you. But not that…” I really understood what she really meant by “that”. “But is it not my responsibility to…” “Who said no – I pretty well know that you still love me …Come and see me and my child often – help us however you can – nobody’s going to stop you.” “But…?” “What But…? Have you ever thought of your marriage??” It was true. I had decided to marry never again. Again?? She continued, “Why don’t you try leading a normal life?” “But without…” “Without me…OK! Suggest something… except “that”” Something struck my head. I would be the most pleased one if I had her near me always. So I said, “I’ll do what you say…but you must live next to my door always…under my..” “Yes I understand…Do you mean you shall marry some one if I agree to this” With some disagreement, I said, “Yes” “OK! I am ready” That was it. She had achieved what she wanted- which really looked impossible a few moments ago…!!
Should all this happen to my Nivedha? Tears flowed down my eyes. I turned back to check if she was not watching me. I just remembered our conversation…- her reply to my question about her husband – how she said me to look behind. How she looked into the mirror as soon as she came out of the kitchen! How great her husband must have been to replace my position in her heart. Really great – the letter – a solid evidence for that. I pocketed it and walked to the hall. I started looking at those pictures carefully. By that time she had brought me my favourite drink. Several thoughts ran through my mind as I drank that coffee. She spoke, “Shravan used to say that he wanted to see you. He will be very much pleased when I tell him that you had come here to see me. Can you really wait till…?” I listened to her carefully looking at those photographs. They could really explain me something that even Nivedha could not have – “How much she loved her husband!” I had carved a temple in her heart but how can I describe what he had done… Indeed he had not died. He was living right there in that place along with his beloved wife and cute daughter. And I could notice that she saw her husband everywhere in that home. She was leading a peaceful life with her husband there. I did not want to disturb that life of hers. I did not want to disturb her happiness in such a life. I kissed Ranjani on her forehead and bade good bye to them forever.

From My Album

I remember very well, that day we were returning from Delhi. It was around eight years ago and our school had taken five of us to take a part in a Television Programme and we were returning to Madurai. It was 10.00 PM and the Tamilnadu Express was to leave from the New Delhi Railway station. There were two teachers with us and we were all sitting inside the compartment. They had allotted us seven seats and the window next to me was vacant. The train had whistled and that concerned person had not come. I went out and looked at he passenger’s list. Mr.David, it read a Christian. Before I could read the other details the train started moving and do I came back and took my seat.

Before the train could leave the platform, there rushed in a man, climbing the stairs of the running train. He had a single bag, which we saw first. We thought he would be a young man of thirty-five. He came in and directly occupied his seat. To our surprise, he was quite old on a closer look and we expected him to be in the nineties. Yet he was quite brisk. He had silvery hair that had bit of shine, pus and downs on his skins. Still his eyes were sharp. He spoke not a word. Probably, his age did not allow him to speak properly. As it was already 10.30, our teacher switched off the lights and we were forced to sleep.

The next morning I woke up. The sun was faster – I thought. It was shining. I looked on to my watch – it read 10.00. Then I realised that it was I who was slow. All my friends were already awake and surprisingly that “thatta” was sitting over the top and meditating. Immediately Priya came and told me that he had been sitting like that for about 3 hours. I told her to watch him and I went to brush my teeth. When I came back he was sitting on his seat munching something. Priya and Raghu told me he had just come down, ordered coffee and started munching chips. We had great doubts in our mind about that silent man. We were actually so young at that time that these doubts of us went beyond imagination. Who was he? Why was he silent? Was he spying on someone? Then Raghu suggested that David might not even be his real name. It was at that time that Priya gave an excellent idea to divert his concentration. She murmured something in our ears and we acted accordingly. She started speaking about our friend David, in a higher tone. He had not accompanied us in that tour. We expected him to glance at us if he was really David. But he did not. Priya then gave an I-told- you- know-sort of expression. One hour passed.

Our teacher called all of us and she announced that she was going to conduct a quiz. We liked quizzes and we quickly got ready. That “thatta” took a huge book and started reading. The quiz commenced and the teachers were the quizmasters.

Questioning started and we were answering them well. Priya was extremely good at quiz. She answered almost all questions. I kept listening to her amazing answers. A new round started and each of us were asked to select a personality on whom our teacher would pose us questions. I chose Mahatma Gandhi and answered three out of five questions. Raghu chose Abraham Lincoln and answered four questions. While Priya was answering that “thatta” closed his book and started starring at her.

After the questions were over, he spoke in a highly dignified language, “How, even at his small age, you know about Hitler and his deeds?” Immediately I answered, “She is actually very good at General Knowledge. I too know a bit about Hitler and the help he had rendered to the INA” Raghu murmured in my ears, “How can this old fellow know about wars and other things. I don’t think that he knows what INA could mean. If at all he knows something that can be about using a plough.” I told him to keep quiet. And slowly our talks went deeper. Definitely Priya knew more than what I knew. At one stage what all I could do was keep listening to what they spoke. What all I could understand was some stuff about India and its freedom struggle. Then suddenly he talked about the present India and how bad the situation was. Priya started suggesting what somebody could do to help the country improve. He then advised us on how we must act as future citizens of India. From our talks I started wondering how he could be so brisk and energetic at that age. I could really understand that he was enjoying her speech. I looked at the watch. It was just 12.00. I asked him, “Sir, are you travelling till Chennai?” He replied, “No. I must get down at Bhopal.”

He continued and we listened to him carefully. Our teachers were asleep while this man gave us a good company. I then asked Priya, “After Hitler was defeated, what happened to the INA?” She replied, “Well, Netaji tried to get help from Japan, but it is said that he died there in an air crash. But his body was not found.” He then said, “You know something!! If anybody is not found for seven years, then he is declared to be dead.” I suddenly noticed a change in Priya’s eyes.

The train slowed down. He said, “Bhopal has arrived. I must leave. Thanks for the company.” Priya asked to my ears, “Hey! Do you have film rolls left?” Before I could reply “No” to her, he said, “Why photographs when he have talked a great deal!!” He starred at her. He remained silent for a moment. The station arrived and the train stopped. He got down with his two bags and we too got down. He turned and looked at us. Then he started moving away from us. It was at that time I realised that we had forgotten to ask what his name was. I cried out of curiosity to know who he was – “Sir…Sir…” Priya remained silent just starring at him. We could feel that he heard us, yet he walked.

The train whistled and we got into our compartment. Priya shouted, “Hey! Shank!! You can see a paper on his seat. We three rushed and opened it. It was a letter addressed to us.

Dear kids,
Please burn this paper once you read it. I can see in you the future citizens of this country. This country should not be ruined by petty things. The freedom that we had obtained from the British by shedding our blood is so valuable that…we cannot afford to lose it. I know very well. There are lots of people still in this country who are ready to give me blood for freedom if I ask. But what we need is a proper guide whom I can see in you. Take care. Best of luck.

Beneath was a signature that was scribbled so fast that I could not read. But Priya could. “My God!!” she exclaimed. It took a little time for me to realise what had just happened. We immediately looked out of the window, but he was out of sight.

Priya still has that golden bit signed by him as a memorable gift.