Football Mania !

The football fever of the Euro Cup is over. Over almost a month the most competitive teams all over Europe clashed on the football field to establish supremacy on the continent, albeit on the field.

In India of course there is a miniscule population which is swayed by the trance of this magic simple game, favouring for the more complex cricket. It is really odd that the game which enthralls millions all over the world fails to attract the attention of the Indian masses. I often wonder whether it has to do with the pathetic situation of the national football team or is this something more deep-rooted.

This year’s championship had its usual share of fun and upsets. Spain was clearly the favourites from the start; however, many were rooting for a Spain – Germany clash in Kiev. But as we all saw, in the semis a hurricane called Balotelli did them in. Last Sunday Spain finished their campaign in style, with a margin of four, literally hanging the Italy squad out to dry ! One of my Spanish friends have written to me recently that the nation has become so excited with the win that they have momentarily forgotten their economic troubles !

Coming from that miniscule portion of Indians who is also entranced by football, notwithstanding the fact that our national team is nothing to talk about, I tried my best to follow the matches, with whatever next day’s routine would allow, what with the time difference and matches starting at midnight.

And then I wait for World Cup !

Every time I watch international football on television, I cannot wonder why the football coaches, be it the national team or the clubs, are fully attired in Monday office gear on the sidelines. Strategists that they are with all due regards to them, I cannot understand why they have to sit in the dug-out in a suit and a tie and occasionally breaking off into a jig when their team scores one too many. It is indeed a bit funny, however like many things in the universe, it is beyond me to understand.

Horn OK Please !

The roads in Mumbai are divided. It is also true for all major cities in India. The divide is very sharp and contrasted between the haves and have-nots. I am not talking about the hordes of beggars and unfortunate shelter-less people and the ones driving by in their cushy limousines.

I am referring to the two broad categories that are unleashed on the roads of this maximum city almost every day: the ones who honk and the ones who don’t.

When man started the process of invention of the automobile or the earlier horse drawn carriage to be precise, the horn preceded the engine ! So there was this horse drawn carriage in mid seventeenth century with a loud bugle to warn off the pedestrians that the carriage is on its way. Many many years later, and after experimenting with thousand of variations we have today what is called as the electric motor horn.

In countries like India , with the roads ever congested, sometimes it is like you can drive perhaps with a cranky engine but you cannot take the vehicle out if the horn is not in perfect order. You do not know when you need it next !

On the roads we have a category of drivers who think that honking loudly and repeatedly will give them instant way and all the traffic jams will be a thing of the past. So when you have scores of cars lined up in front of you trying to navigate through the roads like a thousand footed centipede and you cannot afford to step on the accelerator, what do you do ? Honk of course !!

Then there is the other variety who thinks that once you have honked the responsibility of saving his or her life rests with the pedestrian and it is immediate right of way for them.

The third variety is those who can see the counter at the signal counting down to zero to turn from red to green but feel that honking a few times may actually speed up the laboriously slow method of down counting to zero.

Some use the horns for everything- whether it is for reversing the car or to signal to the friend or relative vigorously waving goodbye on the sidewalk or to just say hello to your friend who is in the next lane in the traffic snarl- just to give company on a boring day…

It is not for nothing that we have graffiti on trucks – Horn OK Please ! Time as a nation we patented this phrase as it amply sums up what we do on the roads.

Hallelujah !

The ordeal is over ! Finally !

This is the time of the year when I start getting the chills with the impending annual medical checkup, thinking of the reports and the endless numbers of HDL, LDL and all such mumbo-jumbo.

So thankfully after all the pricking, probing , prodding it is finally over. The doctors have thoroughly gone through all the reports and have all agreed in unison that my heart will continue to beat all my life.

So now starts the cycle of temptation, greed, guilt and redemption - for another year. Again the chocolate mousse will beckon, again the fries will tempt. It is an endless cycle like the dog trying to catch its own tail. After some futile tries it also realizes that it is only going round in circles and gives up the effort.

There was a time when medical opinion was disbursed only by those who had the degree under their belt. Today in this age of e-everything, at the click of a button in seconds we have pages and pages of advice, paid and unpaid , of every topic under the sun.

And there is research. Such is this endless research that it throws up new ideas and new theories on an almost daily basis, which threaten to bring to a nought all previous truths that we believed were true.

Some years back I remember having had read in the papers that drinking water is beneficial to health as it flushes out all impurities from the system. Armed with the fountain of this new knowledge I started guzzling down the elixir of life in quantities which would have made a thirsty elephant jealous. Till I choked on another newspaper of another day which warned that too much water to drink would make your kidneys overwork and it can cause damage to the vital organs. So I decided in favour of my kidneys for the time being…..

HDL has been long considered to be the good cholesterol and is enemy number one to LDL, the bad guy. So eat up all things and exercise like a frenzied aerobic robot till your HDL hits the roof. This was the theory known for years but recently there are new findings (lot of internet pages devoted to that too) that it may actually be only a red herring. So we are now wondering which of these fellas we need to watch !

With such conflicting theories floating around and corrupting our innocent minds , the best way to live is “Born Free, Living Free, Forever Free….. Don’t Worry Be Happy…. Hallelujah !”

Nonexistential Existence

My existence is at a threat. No, I am not being pessimistic to suggest anything sinister about my journey on the face of Mother Earth. I am talking about my existence on the records of Government of India.

“Stand up to be counted !” is what I had heard long ago from wise people. Well I did stand and did that several times: I stood under the unrelenting sun beating down on my head on an April afternoon or braved the rains of July or maybe queued up on a cold January morning, wishing that it was far better to stay indoors and savour a cup of hot tea. But every time I did stand to get counted the end result seems to be sinisterly the same.

Many many years ago I remembered having joined the serpentine queues to get the necessary paper work and get photographed to get the coveted Voter Indentity Card, being issued by the government. Having completed all my formalities I triumphantly came home , assured that soon I will have the coveted document which will ensure that only I can exercise my fundamental right against my name.

Well the government folks (I do not think in those days the exercise was franchised – though I may be wrong) did not like my ugly mugshot at all and therefore decided not to make a card with that ugly face. So they put my neighbour’s photo with my name, hoping at least now I will get the hint.

Well after lodging the complaint my only card that I ever received was taken back, never to come back again. Being of the nomadic variety and never much having believed in the permanency of permanent addresses, maybe the rightful claimant of the correct card could not be contacted by the governmental machinery.

After this on two other occasions at two different states did I try the same but could never get the coveted card in my hands.

Some months ago I laboriously filled up the form and queued up for getting my Aadhar Card. Things definitely looked more organized this time and they gave me an appointment with an efficiency and sincerity akin to the office of a top surgeon,  to come and get myself photographed on a preset data and time. Dressed in my best and having had the closest shave ever (pun not intended)  I went to the center only to find myself confronted with a notice scribbled on a sheet of paper that the center had decided to close down and move to happier locales. No one seems to be knowing when and where they will come back. The website is devoted to self praise and nothing much beyond.

Recently I came across an advertisement in the newspapers that there is another scheme ongoing called RDC (or some such mumbo jumbo) which everyone must partake of , Adhar or no Adhar ! Once bitten, twice shy they say- in my case it is many times bitten hence I decided to give it a miss.

I am convinced that the governmental machinery has a bee under its bonnet when it comes to me and it is best that the twain never meet.

The only exception when the governmental super-computers go berserk and literally start a adrenalin crazed tarantula war dance is when my puny little PAN number flashes on any transaction – it is that time when they work very efficiently.

The reason is simple:  it is payback time !

The Great Leveller

Last week I had the rare opportunity of visiting the memorial which once was the abode of Thomas Jefferson, the third president of United States, during the course of a business trip. The quaint little house is atop a small hill and had been named Monticello by him (Little Mountain in Italian), in reference to his love for Italian art, food culture and the influence created on him thus.

Like all other memorials in all countries, there was a nice interesting guided tour to take us years (in this case centuries) back to re-live the old world charm. We could almost see the person living in being , pouring over his books (history tells us he was an erudite and his phenomenal book collection stands testimony to the fact), or writing the Declaration of Independence.

It was a perfect evening with the golden sun lending its rays to add to the old world charm as we visited his family grave.

Like all tourists, during the trip I sauntered into the memoirs shop with the intention of picking up some souvenir to mark the visit to this nice place. The shop was really well stocked with various items, from the mundane coffee mugs with the picture of the site painted on it to miniature versions of the iconic Declaration of Independence. With surprising regularity I picked up each item to keep it down when the dream of carrying back of a piece of American history with me ended with the words “Made in China” inscribed boldly at the bottom or back of each artifact or souvenir. I just could not come to terms with this omnipresent Chinese invasion also perpetrating the heritage sites. Although this is not a unique experience for me and I have found the same in other places be it in India or across the world including Europe, what surprised me that in other places perhaps it was possible to spot something which was made elsewhere. Whereas it was a true taking over of the marketplace so to say…

We have to give it to those to whom it is due. It is not easy to capture the world with these small inconsequential tidbits and flood the market on both sides of the Atlantic with products made in one country and virtually force the others out of the marketplace !

Having never had the occasion to visit China yet, I am not sure what sells as souvenirs at the shops near the Great Wall. It would be really a great nice surprise to find a memento there inscribed Made in India or Vietnam or Costa Rica ! But as of now from the Statue of Liberty to the Machu Pichu to the Eiffel Tower to the Taj Mahal, when it comes to carrying back a small piece of history with you, you will invariably land up carrying back a bit of China with you.

It seems to be the ultimate leveller !

Of Maximals and Minimals

Traffic rules exist and always there are quite a few who would think that they are there to be broken. This is a sad fact of life in countries like India. Recently the authorities are trying to do their best to ensure some sense of discipline and avoid unnecessary accidents on stretches in Mumbai and suburbs and also the expressways- down to the level of parading the accident –damaged vehicles to inculcate some sense in the public.

Having said that and giving the authorities due credit for the effort they are taking to instill discipline in this nation of unruly motorists, I cannot help but point out to what I recently spotted as a signage just before the start point of the -Pune expressway, which also has seen its share of peril in recent times.

Serious as the subject is, I could not but smile at the choice of words. What exactly is this minimum fine upto business ? Is it that one part of the bureaucracy wanted a minimum number while the other part screamed for a finiteness to the whole subject ?

Or is it that that originality of the idea to have a technically infinite fine clashed with the impending elections round the corner and the fear of “fined” electorate threatening to boot the government out to infinite space resulted in this maximalism ?

Or is it that some learned post doctoral fellow in mathematics in this country has decided to help the bureaucracy in providing up-to-date statistical data on fine collections via a complex software which can make ISRO seem like child’s play ? Maybe it is the government’s idea of starting to bring more and more people under the educational umbrella by quizzing the hapless motorist after he commits the mistake on the median, mode and standard deviation of the fine collection the past one month and the reprieve being proportional to the marks secured in this impromptu viva.

Being mathematically challenged, I decided to drive on….

Place a bet !

We all have the habit of taking bets , sometimes on trivial issues or just to have some fun. A playful bet, among friends is normal and is part of pure fun, albeit at the expense of the person who loses and has to pay up. So many of us have in the past placed bets on the outcome of cricket matches etc and have either coughed up and paid or have shared the spoils of the wager, be it a treat or whatever such inconsequential.

One of my lasting friendship with one of my Australian colleagues began as a bet , many many winters ago, on the outcome of India playing Australia in Test series, when both of us were working in cricket-less continental Europe, with only internet feed to give us updates. (With the current form of India, I do not want to delve into the details as to who had won that time, many may not believe it !).Such episodes are common-place and do not worth a mention at all.

However what has always intrigued me is the weakness of some to gamble and wither away all, throwing caution to the winds. Whether we have to go back to the mythological game of dice or newspaper reports about families having their life spoilt due to the reckless gambling or the 24x7 slot machines of Vegas, I have always wondered how anyone can get such a kick when the theory of probability stares at you hard and winks at you more than you think it should or would.

However some years back I did have the chance meeting with such an inveterate fan of the theory of probability and was really amazed. We were having a chat at a club with some of my colleagues and over harmless banter we were introduced to this rather smart looking person, who as he was introduced, lives to gamble. The fact that he was still a member of that famed club, had a good job with a reputed company and was not in rags, was proof enough that he won a few more than he lost.

He mesmerized us with his stories of winning some and losing a few over the next hour. He summed up that without at least one wager a day, he cannot even digest his supper. When we asked whether the pack of cards was his constant companion he surprised us more by stating that he can gamble on anything, with or without tools. On further explanation he gave a short demo which I will never forget. He asked if anyone of us had a five hundred rupee note. This being quite some years ago when the 500 was not so much in circulation , one of our friends confirmed that he had one in his wallet. The man of the moment immediately placed a bet which none of us had any courage to accept. His bet was simple: he placed a 1:1 bet on whether the last digit of the rupee note was even or odd.

Since none of us chicken hearted could match up with him the bet was never placed, but he demonstrated to our extreme amazement what an inveterate gambler can be.