IPL's Calling...Where Are You?

You are lucky. All of you, who are reading this right now are lord-be-darned lucky. You are lucky because you are only getting to read the contents which the author has typed out here - you aren't seeing the author himself. For those who want to know, the author is in a super excited state of being. He has donned an animated avatar. He is pacing back and forth, he is jumping up and down. He is unable to park even half a bum on a chair for a millisecond. He is shouting, he is laughing, he is cursing, he is chanting. He is hyperventilating. His adrenaline is pumped up to dizzying levels, he has generated enough amount of testosterone and estrogen to supply for the whole neighborhood. He is over-the-moon, over-the-sun, over-the-solar-system. The delirious author is doing an excited dance of the jingalala genre around his TV set, wearing nothing but a banana leaf and a matching bikini top. You are lucky you don't get to see the author right now. You only get to see what he has typed out.

Gljsdojfouflmdioaufeqjroiufsdlkjfajfeljraidfoiueriudflajfulwejlhalgjrkjehg. What the... Whoa! I mean, did you just see that? His excitement has reached such a feverish pitch that he doesn't have conscious control of even his keystrokes now. What the heck is wrong with the author? What's got him all happy, excited and delirious?. Nope he has not had cocaine for lunch, he is on a diet you see- so it can't be about dope. Nope he hasn't hired Paris Hilton to do a lap dance for him- so its not about girlfriends. Nope he has not got a multi-million dollar pay hike, his house is still built of bricks and not from money bags- so it can't be about money. Nope, he hasn't replaced Bill Gates at Microsoft or for that matter Hugh Hefner at Playboy- so its not about a new dream job. Nope he hasn't got a shiny new Ferrari for free...his garage still houses a sputtering old Ambassador 1879 model, with the paint peeled off and engine thrown away- so its not about cars. Nope, neither McDonald's nor the Oberoi Intercontinental has offered to supply abundant complimentary food for him daily... he is still eating out of roadside thrash cans- so it can't be about food.


Hmmm...lets pause and recap for a moment here. Dope? Check. Women? Check. Sex? Check. Money? Check. Hi-fi job? Check. Swanky cars? Check. Food? Check. What else can get an average urbane Indian bachelor male so excited? What are we leaving out? What are we forgetting here? Come on, lets think... drum fingers on the desks, doodle invisible thoughts in the brain, think hard... what is missing? Unless, oh dear, but of course, why didn't we remember that earlier? *Boink Boink Boink* - lets slap our foreheads thrice as punishment. There is C.R.I.C.K.E.T, amigos! The game! Ok, so what about cricket now, are they showing a test match between Scotland and Ethiopia on TV ? Hmmm.. not really. Unless, oh dear, but of course... *Patak Patak Patak*- lets slam our foreheads against the nearest wall three times as punishment. Why didn't we remember that earlier? There's the IPL on. What you don't know what the IPL is? You don't? *Thwack Thwack Thwack,* slap yourselves three times- twice on your face and once on your buttocks as punishment. The IPL is the Indian Premier League. The cricket version of the Super-Bowl. A hyper exciting brand of cricket. The 20 over –a- piece extravaganza. The razzmatazz which gets the cricket crazy nomads all nippy and excited. So now we know- that’s what's got the author so excited. We've found out. There...now Sherlock Holmes can rest in peace.

Ladies and Gentlemen, ever since the IPL T20’s kicked off, I’ve been hooked. Of course, Season 2 has got off to a relatively rustic, yawning start, but I am optimistic that it is no indication of what’s in store in the coming weeks. For the uninitiated, this year is the second season of IPL and hence called IPL2. Last year was the first season of IPL and hence was called IPL1. See my math, ain’t I better than Aryabhatta? IPL1 was held in India. It was a roaring success. IPL2 is being held in South Africa. One hopes it will be at least a meowing success. IPL2 had to be exported to South Africa because the Govt. couldn’t ensure the security of the event if it were to be held in India. Fair enough. After all, the IPL2 clashed with another titanic soap opera called the General Elections. The Govt. told the IPL babus that it was more important to use your fingers to press buttons on the voting machine than use them to spin a doosra or count currency notes. “No security, no IPL, nothing doing, go cry to your mama” said the Government. Also, it was rumored that some of the team owners were reluctant to field their precious players in the blazing Indian summer because there wasn’t enough sunscreen lotion around. Well the smart IPL babus, amid desperation and simmering public anger, shifted the event into the first nation that offered to host it – South Africa. That is a shame, because when it comes to passionate following, crowd frenzy and media hype, nothing can match cricket in India. But, with the aforementioned situation on our hands, we cricket lovers were virtually told that we had only two options before us:
1) Watch the cricket out of South Africa.
2) Or spend your time picking lint out of your belly-buttons.

Option 1) was unanimously chosen, and boy was I glad. After all, it is the cricket that matters to us fanatics – the show had to go on and if it had to find a new stage in South Africa, then so be it.


(I'd rather watch Ashish Nehra bat than watch no cricket at all)

The IPL babus should count their lucky stars that South Africa came to their rescue. I’m sure with the amount of money invested in IPL, the organizers would have been desperate to host the tournament even in Antarctica or Somalia for that regard. In fact, rumors have it that they considered these two places to host the game, before South Africa appeared on their radar. Unfortunately, amid much reluctance, they had to rule out Antarctica as a hosting venue because the penguins went on hunger strike and the polar bears took out protest marches against hosting the event on their land. This implied that at least 50% of the potential on-field spectators were ruled out from participation. Then there was the issue of conflict of sponsors’ interests – they wanted iced tea, chilled Coke and vanilla chocobar sundaes to be advertised in Antarctica, which for some strange reason found no takers. And then there was the problem with cheerleaders – I mean who would have liked to see them dancing around in woolen pullovers, stocky trousers, leather overalls, thick sweaters, thicker gloves, mufflers and thermal panties? These issues ensured that Antarctica was out of reckoning as a potential host, even though the conditions for cricket was ‘perfect ‘. (Hey c’mon I’m sure the ice covered pitches would have possibly assisted good seam bowling) .

And then there was the second potential host – Somalia. I’m sure Somalia would have been great, but unfortunately the event couldn’t be staged there because the pirates threatened to kidnap Mandira Bedi! In hindsight, I think it would’ve been a really good thing had the Somali pirates kidnapped Mandira Bedi. I mean, the advantage would have been two-pronged. 1) The TV audience would have been spared of her apathetic cricketing knowledge and abysmal presentation skills. 2) Who knows, the pirates could have as well learnt some cricket from her. Ha ha ha ha… now that is funny… learning cricket from Mandira Bedi, ha ha ha… I’m sure the pirates would have rather preferred to jump into the sea than let such a day dawn upon them. Ha ha ha ha… Ok, so all in all, South Africa was the chosen venue for IPL2. Not bad at all.

(Presenting - The Numero Uno cricketer - Mandira Bedi!!)

You see people often wonder what the fuss is all about. What’s the big deal about T20, they ask. Why go ga -ga over it? Traditional cricket lovers have often sniggered at and chastised the T20 format as prostitution of cricket. “Slam-bang-thank you ma’m cricket” are their precise words. One of my friend’s grandfather, who is 186 years old, and an avid Test match lover, often tells me how watching IPL saddens his soul and rips the pacemaker in his heart apart. “Test cricket is real cricket. What is this IPL-BPL or whatever” he says. I agree when people accord the highest respect to Test matches. The Test format deserves all of it – it is still the purest form of cricket and the ultimate test of your cricketing skills. Make no mistake, I am a passionate Test match lover too – I always apply kilograms of super-glue to my ample posterior and park them firmly on the couch, while watching a Test match for all of its five days on TV. But I certainly take umbrage at the purists for according disrespect to the T20 format. T20 is a different game, it has a different charm. You see the primary, number one attraction about IPL T20 is kinky cheerleaders in skimpy outfits the fast and furious nature of the game itself. Twenty overs a piece, the batsman going hammer and tongs at everything thrown at them, the bowlers bowling their guts out, the power-packed shots, the switch hits, the paddle sweeps, no balls going for free hits, frequent toe-crushing yorkers, the screaming crowds, the dancing girls… it’s all there. And its all over in three and half hours. It goes without saying that the color, the entertainment, and the adrenaline rush offered by the T20 is unparalleled elsewhere. So what is my unsolicited advice here? – don’t try to mix up or compare the two formats of the game. Learn to enjoy both of them, in the way it is meant to be enjoyed. Enjoy Test cricket sipping a glass of wine and enjoy T20 by dousing yourself with beer. That’s exactly what I do – well, I douse myself with water instead, as I am teetotaler, but I nevertheless am charged as a bull while watching IPL T20.

Thank you IPL, thank you T20, for bringing in a splash of vibgyor to my otherwise monochromatic life.

Have a great time folks!

Love,

Parry.

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Note:

1) The IPL has not paid me to write this post. Pay?... ha ha ha.... my own employer is reluctant to pay me, toh IPL kya ghanta pay karega?

2) Coming up in my next post: IPL, Cricket Widows and Workaholic Bosses.

3) Today is the one and only Sachin Tendulkar's birthday. I salute you, master. Wish you a very happy birthday.

4) Talking of IPL, this blog called Fake IPL player is generating tremendous buzz and apparently, has been authored by an insider from an IPL team camp. Authentic or not, this blog is providing some absolute rib-tickling fun.

The Human Behaviour and Relationship Guide

Foreword by Dale Carnegie:

Parikshith Kumar is one of the world's foremost experts in 'human behaviour and relationships' . Such is his expertise in this field, that it rumored that he's well capable of writing books like "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus and Eunuchs are from Pluto" , even while lying in deep coma. Parikshith, or Parry as he is lovingly called (my wife calls him Hotty Pants) has wowed millions around the world with his deep insight on human relationships and gender behaviour. His classic books on human relationships have found their places in the hearts of millions of readers around the world and have smashed publishing records all over. His books have been made into psychologists' course materials, have found their way into MBA classroom case studies, and also been placed inside thousands of public restrooms around the world - so that people can read them when they go potty. From the stables of the great relationship guru and one of the world's most original thinkers comes another post which destined to change your lives and the way you look at people around you.

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At the very outset, I must say that I'm really humbled to have the great Dale Carnegie write a foreword to my post. Its an honor. For those of you who don't know who Dale Carnegie is - err.. never mind, ignorance is bliss.

Contrary to popular judgement, I am not the silver-haired, furry-browed expert on human relationship that I am purported to be. All that I do is to sit around and observe people around me. ( Applause! Applause! Holy Me! What modesty from the great skunk! ) . You see, to be a judge on human relationships and behaviour, you need to have an above average emotional quotient. Well, my emotional quotient is a zero drawn with a huge diameter. My emotional quotient, emotional remainder, emotional dividend, divisor - everything is a zero. I fall into a rare category of humans called 'Emotional Retards' - an oh so lovely bunch of people who are devoid of all emotions (except a few bare basic unmentionable ones), and bereft of all sentiments and sensitivities that are found in normal human beings.

To illustrate, let me tell you a fact about my self. The last time I cried or had moist eyes was 7 years ago. I can almost hear gasps from the other side of the computer screen, particularly coming from the women. "How can you not have moist eyes even once in seven years?!! You bloody robot!" , - I can hear them say. Now of course, women have tear glands that resemble the Ganges, I am not trying to compete with them, but the fact is even men cry. Yes, men do cry. According to a highly scientific survey I recently conducted, I found that an average male cried at least once a year (I have excluded Karan Johar, Roger Federer and my business manager from this survey- these men cry or are made to cry at a far more regular basis). So, once a year is the statistical tear-jerk figure for the men. ( The tear jerk figure for women is slightly higher - they only cry 365 times in a year and 366 times if it is a leap year) . Mind you, even on that one solitary occasion, men don't cry openly. Most of them lock themselves up inside a restroom and bawl their eyes out- often hugging the commode for comfort. I do this once in 7 years- so you can imagine my levels of emotional retardation.

Let me further my case. A couple of years back, a movie called Taare Zameen Par hit the Indian screens. Taare Zameen Par (TZP), a melodrama about a dyslexic little boy, his mentor, his parents, his classmates, his Sony Playstation, his pet alligator... -- is considered, till date, to be one of the most emotional tear-jerkers to hit the Indian screens. Such was the emotional impact of this movie, that the theatres screening this movie often had little puddles of human tears in their lobby-floors. ( Someone had told me that the puddles were genuine human tears- I had initially thought that it was dog urine). It was a common sight to see little boys jumping and splashing around in the puddles of tears and little girls trying to sail boats made of paper in them. Such was the impact. The scene inside the theatre was no better - it resembled a mass funeral- everybody was crying. Everyone, regardless of their gender, were going boo-hoo, sob-sob, waaaa, sniff sniff, mumme mumme etc, watching TZP :'-( Everyone except me that is. Sample the scene inside the theatre :

Protagonist (on screen) : "Boo hoo.. *Sob* Sob* ... * Sniff *" :'-(

The other protagonist (on screen) : "Boo hoo.. *Sob* Sob* ... * Sniff *" :'-(

Obese Aunty in red saree sitting next to me : "Boo hoo.. *Sob* Sob* ... * Sniff * So sad" :'-(

Her equally hideous daughter in the next seat : "Boo hoo.. *Sob* Sob* ... * Sniff *" :'-(

The old man in sweater : "Boo hoo.. *Sob* Sob* ... * Sniff *" :'-(

Everybody else : "Boo hoo.. *Sob* Sob* ... * Sniff *" :'-(

Me : "Hey, why does this fucking popcorn have no salt? "

Get the point? That is my emotional sensitivity for you. So that's why I say that I have no authority to write on this subject per se. But since one of my primary pre-occupation is to sit and look around at people, I have, through the years, grown tiny invisible antennae on either sides of my head that senses and gauges the way men and women behave in general.

Men are logical, decisive and practical. Women are caring, nurturing and emotional. Ta da , Ta da , Ta daaaaaaa!!! That's the breaking news-cum-enlightenment bulletin of the day for you. OK troops let's move on. Well, as I said, that's how men and women are wired up. Like it or not, agree or disagree, and discounting a few exceptions here and there - men and women always fit the aforementioned stereotypes to the T. Now its none of my business to pass judgements as to which stereotype is better - I'd rather spend my time scratching my butt than enter a boring gender superiority debate. But what interests me is the way the sexes stick to their stereotypes in whatever they do. Its only when the Mr. Logical clashes with the Ms. Emotional, does the stadium come alive, spark off fireworks and gives jobless fuckers interested spectators like me something to write about.

Men can be logical and practical to the point of crass even during their rare attempts to touch upon emotive topics. Here is a sample of a one such conversation between a group of male friends:

Guy 1: "Hey dude, do you ever get sad for no reason and cry" ?

Guy 2 ( responding) : "Me, cry? Asshole what do you think? I am some sort of a sissy bed-wetter? "

Guy 3 : " Of course, you can be a sissy bed-wetter. Maybe you should buy Huggies diapers for yourself... "

Guy 4 : "...Or borrow your girlfriend's Whisper napkins"

Guy 1 : Muwahahahaha...

Guy 2 : Muwahahahaha....

Guy 3 : Muwahahahaha....

Guy 4 : Muwahahahaha...

Women on the other hand can be highly emotional even while discussing something as direct and logical as Mathematics.Here is a sample of a one such conversation between a group of female friends:

Girl 1 : OK, everybody 2 plus 2 is 4. I think I am sure... Umm.. yes, I am sure.

Girl 2 : Wow, really?

Girl 3 : Oh so sweet na....

Girl 4 : Yeah really sweet. 4 is such a lucky digit na? It can never be lonely because it always has two and two together.

Girl 1 : Awwwww...

Girl 2 : Awwwww...

Girl 3 : Awwwww...

Girl 4 : Awwwww...

Now, it's not that these behavioural stereotypes have been existing since, like, yesterday. Men and women have been the way that they are, since times immemorial. Why, the behavioral tendencies can be dated way back to the times of Adam and Eve. History tells us that Adam just couldn't stop being the logical being that he was - and Eve couldn't help being the nurturing soul that she used to be. ( I print my own history books and no I'm not gonna show them to you alright?) . Sparks used to fly whenever their personalities clashed. Here is a sample of one such conversation:

Eve: "Adam, sweetheart, here... have an apple"

Adam: "Naaa... I prefer jackfruit"

Eve: "Now where will I go searching for a jackfruit tree? Have the apple na, sweetheart... Its good for you"

Adam: "I'm sorry. I can't have that apple. There may be maggots inside it and its logical that I may fall ill"

Eve: "Do you want me to wash it? Or do you want to make apple-pie instead?"

---10 minutes of silence.... And then again,---

Eve: "Adam, sweetheart, here... have an apple"

Adam: "I told ya lady, I don't want the apple. I don't like apples. Period.D'ya hear that?"

Eve: "Ohh... you don't like apple ?"

Adam: "That is correct. I don't like apple"

Eve(sarcastically) : "Would you prefer an iPod then?"

Adam: "Wow... okay!!!"

Eve: #@$%*^@$

See? Natural behaviour differences between the genders. It's an obvious fact. Along the same lines, it's also a fact that a woman demands undivided attention, perennial love and unadulterated affection from her man all the time - whilst a man can be distracted with other things and may not be able to reciprocate as per her expectations. Even this behavioral tendency of the genders can be traced back to the times of Adam and Eve:

Eve: "Adam..."

Adam: "Yeah..?"

Eve: "You don't pay attention to me?"

Adam: "Of course I do, dear"

Eve: "You don't care for me?"

Adam: "Of course I do, dear"

Eve: "You don't love me?"

Adam: "Of course I do, dear"

Eve: "I don't believe you. Tell me, is there any other girl in your life?"

Adam: "Who else can be there? Muwahahahahaha"

Eve: *Hmmpffffff*

Another behaviour tendency of the sexes is that a man always looks for action with a fixed goal in his mind, while a woman is also goal-oriented, but in a slightly different, roundabout way. Ditto was the case with Adam and Eve:

Adam: "Eve, sweety, come lets go out hunting"

Eve: "But its cold outside..."

Adam: "I know dear, but we have to hunt down something to fill our stomachs. Besides, we are new to the planet and we gotta go out and explore..."

Eve: "So, we have to go out?"

Adam: "Yes"

Eve: "But I have nothing to wear... "

Adam : #$@*#$"

Since 'Nonsense Aplenty' is such a widely revered forum and has a social responsibility(muwahahahahaha... oops sorry, just couldn't contain the laugh here... tee hee) towards its readers, I would like to offer some of my two bit advice to the sexes. The intention of my unsolicited advice that's coming up, is to help the sexes understand each other a little better. Mind you,I am not here to re-write the law of sexes. I am only here to make fun and laugh hysterically provide analysis and offer food for thought. I don't expect gender behaviour to transform overnight. I don't expect an average woman to understand the vagaries of the off-side rule in soccer, or for an average man to know about the primary causes of post-menopausal depression. All I am hoping is that my advice can help the sexes co-exist with more happiness and less friction, and as Jackson said, make the world a better place.

So in that spirit, here is my advice to the men and women folk. ( I know my regulars readers will be having an evil grin on their face by now :-) . They know whats coming up. Of course, some of them also feel that my arguments are totally biased, my logic is completely skewed, and that I should quit blogging, switch over to agriculture and make love to bullocks. Well, maybe they are right - but lets take that debate to a later day. I have an important social responsibility right now) .

Advice for Men:

1) Avoid picking your nose while in the company of your girl, no matter how desperate the urge or how great the twitch. If you really have to, then politely ask her first "Sweetheart, could you please look away while I pick my nose? "

2) Please remember all the important dates and anniversaries. Never forget your girl's birthday. Have the Intel guys install an extra chip in your brain if you have to - but don't forget the dates. And keep assuring your partner that you remember her upcoming birthday. - "Hey sweety, your birthday is on 32nd March right? See I remember" .

3) Work on your romance. Work on your mush-talk. Learn to woo her, sing her romantic songs. If you are confident that your voice doesn't sound like a donkey on its deathbed braying out its last prayers - then congratulations you can consider yourself a singer. Well, the track "Jhoom Barabar Jhoom Sharabi" can be a good start- but its not exactly a very romantic song.

4) Take a bath once in a week, you idiots. A woman likes a man with good personal hygiene. Using a soap while bathing can be advantageous.

5) Never let your girl catch you ogling at other women's breasts. If you really have to ogle, then do it discreetly - but if she catches you, don't tell me that I didn't warn you of the consequences.

Advice for Women:

1) Never interrupt your man during a cricket/football/tennis/kabaddi/ludo match. Don't mouth lines like "Come honey lets go shopping for carpets,curtains,cutlery... " - when India is playing Australia and need 15 runs from 11 balls.

2) Please don't force your man to wear baby pink colored shirts/T-shirts. Even though there may be exceptions, a vast majority of men revolt against wearing pink. You may succeed in forcing your way and have him wear pink, but that will only leave him with a scowl on his face and end up making him feel like a cross between George Micheal and Elton John.

3) Please don't cry at anything and everything. I know, your crying ability is your ultimate weapon. It will bring any rigid man down on his knees and instantly wean him away from his trusted path of logic. But should you cry at everything girl? Cry sparingly, cry intelligently, and cry only when needed. Don't cry for stupid reasons like "Oh my pet grass-hopper died today" or mouth even stupider lines like "Boo hoo I myself don't know why I am crying- will let you know when I find out"

4) While it is your right to take your man out for shopping with you, but please hurry up with your shopping, finish things quickly and show some mercy on your poor man. I mean, please don't take half a millennium to shop for a pair of earrings. I can tell from personal experience. I went out shopping with this female friend of mine last week. I was crew cut and clean-shaved when I entered the shopping mall, and when I came out of it, I had hair that had grown up to my shoulders and a beard that extended till my torso.

Alrighty ladies and gentlemen. I hope the purpose of the post is met ( providing useless enlightenment that is) and I pray that less sparks will fly from now on. *Sigh* I know that I've got to be a really big jackass to hope like that.

Love,

Parry.

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Afterword by Dale Carnegie.

Parikshith Kumar had promised that he would pay me $100 for writing a foreword to his post. He is yet to pay and I have not seen him ever since. Could anyone please tell me where he lives? When I last called him up asking for my promised remuneration, he said "Jaa gaand marao bhutnike" and slammed the phone down. I know that was in Hindi, I couldn't understand it fully, but it certainly wasn't very gracious of him. Could someone please tell me where he stays. I need the money and I...