Supporter's plea

I came to cricketing consciousness with 1992 world cup. Without reading any records I just remember the color of the Indian jersey, some shade of navy blue and how I used to dislike it. But still since it was cricket there was nothing in it to dislike. I remember being told that we would not win the world cup since we were knocked out and later on I found out that “the format of 1992 world cup” was not good.
When 1996 came I knew Manoj Prabhakar, Sachin Tendulkar, Anil Kumble, Srinath, Jadeja, Azhar as if they were my next door neighbors and really felt, with all the innocence of that age that this time we will win. But that time “the pitch” was not good and later on I learnt that the decision making was not good.

Then came the 1999 world cup and this time I was filled with all the cricketing knowledge and with some know how of all the teams in the world cup. But then again the format and the introduction of super six went against my team and we were ousted.

Well then came 2003, and after a wake- up loss to Australia we finally lost to Australia once again. I remember buying loads of cracker for every four that India hits and I also remember that most of them were left as they were that day. Next four years would tell that this was the best chance in 20 years.

And then came 2007 world in which I saw, on a big screen put on in Open Air Theatre of my college, my team lose to Sri Lanka in a make or break league match and being dumped out in the first round courtesy of a loss against Bangladesh in the previous league match. Till then my cricketing sense had matured and I knew that ruing the result has never done any good.

That's a simple recap. No detailing.

I read somewhere that in India your heart always guides you better than your head. And this thought personifies itself in the passion this country has for cricket. We, as a billion plus cricket lovers have seen it all and yet the passion remains the same. We have seen the game in the quagmire of match fixing, we have seen the phase where it was always 20-4 and then robin singh would bat us through only to lose in the end. We have seen and taken all that lack of temperament, all those spineless displays and all that time when we were drooling on lowly 7th on ICC rankings above some non-test playing nations. Yet we have endured. I think and I think without a sense of exaggeration that only Sachin Tendulkar must be the representative of what we have seen. He is the only one who represents the fact that inspite of all the love, dedication and passion for the game you would return disappointed at the end of the day. Off course there were few highs between all these lows but then that wait for ultimate high for the post 1983 generation still eludes.

But every truth sees the light of the day and I think this phase (past 8 years) of Indian cricket represents the truth of the faith we all have put in our heroes for years. The phase where we could see our lads putting up fight not just with bat or ball but equally with words, where they would not budge with some sledging but go on to show that there also exists a long tradition of gully cricket in India and the sledging there would never even come close.

So I think, in earnest, that the time has come. The time to show that, what a blend of youth and experience capped off by an ever cool captain can go on to achieve. The time to emphasize that all the displays of recent past were just a run up to the finale where triumph would just indicate the execution of prediction. I write all this without an intention to put any pressure on the team. I write this simply as a fan and as one of the billion followers of this religion called cricket.

A win would certainly give immense hope to this nation marred by scandals and inflation. A hope that not all hard work goes into vein, a hope that truth sees the day light some day. I bear my allegiance, as always, to Indian cricket team and a loss would not matter. I just hope for a decent fight.

McDonaldisation

There is a term I learnt during my sociology elective. It was McDonaldisation. In simple words it means the replication of the USP across the chain. Basically the term originated from McDonalds itself which ensures that our taste buds would never be able to differentiate the burgers, from 2 different outlets, from each other. Every customer should feel at home inside a McD outlet, that is the main aim.

I belong to Indore, a city in Madhya Pradesh and right now I am in Tatanagar and some days back I was in Delhi. The taste of one thing has remained same though. We have Mcdonaldised ourselves in disorganization. Instead of going on to a discourse on how we can improve by getting organized I would rather tell that one thing which I learnt from being unorganized. I found out that it is fun. I mean it is good that everyone must be organized and it becomes very imperative as a professional but still it is fun to be unorganized, at least for some time.

As I was travelling in train, I realized that each person who has lived in India for sufficient amount of time (*By sufficient I mean that he has travelled in trains and on someday his plans were ruined by a train delay or some day he missed the train because he assumed that like every day the train would be late. On the contrary the train was right on time) will have at least a good incident to tell that how he got duped by Indian Railways. Imagine if Indian Railways were the most organized rail network in the world. The people of india would have been robbed off all those stories. Life, by the way is all about the stories you have.

I would always maintain that considering the volume of passengers and goods handled by Indian Railways it is doing a commendable job. There is certainly no doubt about it. But anyone who has travelled in Delhi Metro will realize that the experience of missing train do not itch much because there is next train in few minutes. More so DMRC has ensured that in most cases even a layman can easily reach his destination. The less organized the system is the more the users need to ask and the more they ask the more they talk. It is certainly not surprising that most of the conversation between the co-travelers start with a question on a next station, seat number, compartment, pantry and so many more things.

While coming back from my office one day, I was on a road, made narrow by encroachments on both the sides. Just ahead of me was one confused uncleji on his Royal Enfield. I think he knew the house number but didn’t know the left or right and so he was exhibiting Brownian motion on the road. As he went to right side, I thought to overtake from left but soon he changed his mind and came to left and we nearly missed a collision. Angrily I turned to look at him. What a saw was a wide Happydent smile which tried to say that may be you are new in the system, it is like this only. My anger vanished in an instant. I felt at home. Mcdonaldisation, certainly.