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The Blue Boys Triumph!

A New World Record has been set by Team India at the ICC World Cup.

Highest score in the WC history!

413/5

A wonderful partnership shared between Ganguly and Sehwag saw the run rate rise fiercely to over 7.89. Sehwag played brilliantly, contributing more than fourteen boundaries and seven sixes. While Ganguly kept up the pressure with his steady play. Team India did see some serious damage when Dhoni was dismissed for 29 off 25 balls. But a partnership between Yuvraj and Tendulkar ensued and set the rate back to a good 7.80 while we crossed the 384 mark on the score card. A brilliant catch by Tucker helped Bermuda draw more blood as Yuvraj was disposed for 89. Dravid and Tendulkar pushed the envelope and a new world record score was established. The previous record was 398.

On the Way.

Say hello to Rani. She's my liaison at a soda stall over in Renigunta. She greets travelers (on their way to Tirumala) with a beaming megawatt smile and proceeds to disappear into the towers of soda bottles faster than she appeared. She decided to stick around and smile at my N80, so I bought her some candy. Of course, she was reluctant to accept it, but we talked her into it. Following this she waved me goodbye and trotted back in to her little world of online banking and covert spy operations.

Ek Cutting Pee Liya. Mumbai Ko Jee Liye.

Maa Kasam!! Aaj apunka icch day tha!! I spent the day jumping rickshaws and walking the streets of Powai, Vile Parle, Santa Cruz, Khar and Chakala, Andheri. Mumbai is such an amazing city. Apart from the foot tapping Bollywood music I heard on my walks at the Paan Beedi Shacks, the talks of the World Cup echo in my ears. I even indulged a dude named Lokesh at a chai stall in a heart warming talk about 'Black Friday' while we sipped 'cuttings'. Lokesh is an apprentice at a Stationery Mart and his specialty spans from making photocopies to using Adobe Photoshop to scan and color correct images. Lokesh had some theories about the long and painful process of the investigation. Nadeem on the other hand claimed that it has to do with politicians playing who's a money maker and who's not. Nadeem owns the chai stall and his associate Gullu had just returned from the Hanuman Mandir. Gullu simply summarized the aftermaths as a political game. "Sab saala milelay, ek hi jaath waala, paise ka jaath!"

As for Black Friday, I hold the movie and book close to my heart since I have experienced the pain, anger and frustration of losing my cousin at the Stock Exchange blasts. The scars still simmer but we have had to move on. Girish's only fault was that he decided to get an early sandwich and return to watch the numbers. They found his remains with a glass shrapnel stuck in his throat. Harsh reality. Mumbai has moved on. The spirit of this city beats in my heart and I love being called a Mumbaikar.

I decided to weave some lines together this evening since I've had a great day and I can't stop describing how much I love this city and it's people. Even though I had three rickshaw wallahs almost run me over (one guy actually drove his wheel over my foot, but it didn't hurt cause I'm a big guy :|) and some two wheeler riding Hrithik Roshans' cuss at me, I loved every moment of it. It's not an everyday spectacle in Los Angeles when someone screams "Dekh Ke Chal Re, Aye Hero!" Most of all, not many So-Californians know that I'm a hero. So I walked around the streets trying to take some pictures which I will post momentarily and had a lot of good company from bystanders. Not to mention all the little boys and girls eager to pose screaming "saab hamara bhi photo lo na!" Gladly!

I'm still looking for the perfect Fiat taxi with intricate sticker work and tastefully carved bezels on the hood describing where it's from and the friendly, horn ok please sign. I get a kick out of such detail. On my last trip I spent a whole afternoon at the Vile Parle East market clicking pictures and it was amazing! I'm not a professional shutterbug but I feel there are so many compositions out there and all we have to do is find the right light and frame. Lunch was a simple meal at Aashra Lunch Home with some 'pecial' pav bhaji and hot bhajias interspersed with spiced gutli slices and lasoon chutney. Topped off with a Dukes lemonade. Perfect!

The highlight of the day was joining me mama and the both of us jumping into a Cool Cab and going to Ramkrishna Mission in Khar. Khar West has changed a lot since I saw it in 2002. The roads have widened, there are a few more boutiques selling branded clothing to the slightly upper middle class bourgeois and most of all a heck-a-lotta gold merchants. I was saddened to see that Akbarallys had shut down. This mini-mall of sorts was my favorite haunt as a kid since it boasted of the best electronic stuff and a grand toy shop. Hey, I bought my first Leo Mattel assault rifle from there, yeah.

So, there you have it; another day in Mumbai. As I sit and sip my Nayak's coffee, I am looking forward to another day of revelry soon as I will widen my horizons and haunt the Powai fish market in search of the biggest mackerels.... More in some more days.

Yeh Ekdum Kaan Mein Ghuselaay

Dekha jo tujhe yaar
dil mein baji guitar
chhalka aankhon se pyar
dil mein baji guitar
chaa raha kaisa yeh nasha re...
aa raha jeene kaa mazaa re..
arerere main toh gaya re...dil bhi gaya re

Dil ke varak pe hai likha
Jaaane wafa tera naam
Chalte Chalte ruk jao to phir
hove mohabbat ki shaam
jhoomu jhoomu teri bahoon mein jhoomu
Chumu chumu tere hooton ko chumu
hey Chahat ki sun pukar dil mein bagi sitaar
Saansein hai bekarar maan mein bagi sitaar
Jhoom utha sara yeh jahaan re
chu liya mein aaasman re
arerere mein to gaya re dil bhi gaya re

Pepaal kiya chaiyaan tale
Ek duje mein hum kho jayeen
tinka tinka chun chun ke hum tum
chota sa ek ghar banaye
chahoon chahoon din raaat mein chaahoon
lamha lamha tere saath betaoon

Sawaan mein mere yaar Dhadkan gaye malhaar
Saason mein tere pyaar Dhadkan gaye malhaar
Rog mujhse kaise yeh laga re,Raat bhaar khwaabo mein jaga re
arerere mein to gaya re dil bhi gaya re

dekha jo tujhe yaar
dil mein baji guitar
chhalka aankhon se pyar
dil mein baji guitar
chaa raha kaisa yeh nasha re...
aa raha jeene kaa mazaa re..
arerere main toh gaya re...dil bhi gaya re

A Tag Heuer for the SLR

Let the Games Begin.

He who overthrows every unforgiving obstacle vanquishes fear and curry withdrawals. An ancient South Indian (specifically, a Mangalorean) wise man said as he stood at the banks of the Shambhavi (Mulki, Karnataka) while feeling the gentle breeze in his Chevy Chase. I am a living example of this paradoxical yet deep rooted phrase. After fighting (or let me rephrase it as warding off) a sixteen hour flight out of JFK and finally landing in BOM, I live again. The last two days have been a little busy convincing myself that I am superior than ever crustacean that has ever walked the bed of Powai Lake and bears witness to the never completing fly over constructions, this side of the water body.

The muddy roads blossom out of the horizon with a battleground like penchant thanks to the municipal heroes who have treaded this very crust with asphalt boring jets and left the surfaces to bewail their defeats. The echoes of rickshaws and gentle cussing from the charioteers ring in my ears as I hum a dirge composed in the localized Marathi poetry. Of course, the composer was an unknown rickshaw driver who upon a hot afternoon while resting his feet high up on the console of his three wheeled leviathan had concocted this bevy of words and ostentatious colorful language to ward off evil spirits and taxi drivers. Trails of dust rise and settle tracing the movements of a dance baptized in melancholy and misery akin to the matrimonial parables spread apart by ten years of unhappiness.

I love Mumbai. I was born here. I will die here. I will also get into a street fight here. What I won’t do is play ball with the local mass transit overlords who flaunt their hairy chests beaded with Miss World wannabe Reshammiya’s tunes that harmonize with nasal overtures and cacophonies erupting from the acid laden bellies of ruminating four legged dung producing cattle. I am here to stay for the next month or so and I will draw a line in the sand and carve my name in the dirt with a bloodied finger that is stained with the liquid erupting from the mortal’s chasm where the heart would reside once upon a sunny time.

Yes, I have arrived. Here my drums echo the arias of victory as the earth shakes under my thrusting steps and skies tear apart with the quickening from my bloodshot eyes as I declare war on every silly serial maker that has dared to lift his pen and have it taste the crustiness of a parchment bearing the seal of Star Plus. Follow the tremble of my fists with thy defeated gaze as I shake them upon the eye of the storm unsheathing my broadsword and letting out my bellow declaring a blood curdling offensive. Think of all the possible countermeasures that will be met with excessive force and a wall of strength so gigantic, even Gods will sip their Pepsis’ slowly as they watch the onslaught of this warrior covered in war paint and dressed in Puma sweats.

Anyways, enough of the Viking-like testimony of the events etched into my mind. Now, let’s have a good time, shall we?