What a year it has been for Sourav Ganguly. The man, who made the greatest comeback in cricket a year ago, scored 1,000 runs in a calendar year in both formats of the game, hit the first double century of his career, scored his maiden hundred at the Eden Gardens in front of his home crowd, and now, scored a century of Test matches when he stepped into the MCG on Wednesday.
From carrying drinks (or his refusal do so) in 1992, to his shirt-waving act at the Lords balcony, from making Steve Waugh wait at the Eden Gardens for the toss during the epic 2001 series, to the entire fiasco involving Greg Chappel, Dada has always been in the midst of many controversies, more non-cricketing than cricketing.
Now with his 100th Test at Melbourne, Dada has crossed a new landmark. And, I am sure it would be more satisfying to him than any of his other centuries. Going by his current form and body language, it seems retirement is still a far way off.
The man, who changed the tag of “tigers at home, rabbits abroad” that India carried earlier, has never looked hungrier for runs. Like him or hate him, but it is difficult to ignore the man who is “after God on the side”. Souravmania is here to stay.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Please invent a Time Machine, Mr Wells!
Three years of staying away from Kolkata has made me realise how important the city is to my life. There hasn’t been a single day that I have spent without reminiscing about Kolkata. Nostalgia strikes me, especially, when I am in the company of my Bengali buddies or when the drinking gets a bit heavy. At the same time, my eyes get moist and I feel a lump in my throat in the full knowledge that those days that I spent in Kolkata will never return.
I wish, along with the novel, Mr H G Wells had actually invented the Time Machine, so that I could relive those days… so that I would never miss...
...the sight of locals staring at westerners, or the ‘whites’, making them really conscious and uncomfortable. Few years ago, on a winter afternoon, I saw a bunch of ‘whites’ playing frisbee at the Maidan. It was surprising to notice that the real action was not inside the playing arena, but outside it, where a sizable crowd had gathered just to watch the ‘whites’ playing
...a bus ride for Rs 3
...a cup of cha at the roadside for Rs 2
...the chicken, mutton or egg rolls, or combinations, at roadside stalls starting from Rs 8
...a plate of chicken or egg chow mien at the same stall starting from Rs 10
...the juiciest mutton steaks at Olypub
...watching movies at Lighthouse, New Empire, Globe, Roxy, Metro, Chaplin, Elite, or one of the other English movie theatres. I felt very sad when, on my last trip, I saw Lighthouse had been turned into a shopping arcade
...the smoke and alcohol-filled evenings at Starlit Garden, the only-men’s bar at Park Street
...grabbing a quick beer on certain hot afternoons at Starlit Garden before proceeding to Kusum’s for their mouth-watering hot kathi rolls
...the Christmas week where the whole Park Street would be lit up from one end to the other with a huge Santa greeting people at the head of Park Street
...the Flury’s all day breakfast —a simple affair comprising eggs, toast, ham, bacon, sausages and brown bread
...michael’s roadside momo stall in Camac Street. The momos cost fifteen bucks for a plate of five on all weekdays from 11 am to 2 pm
...the great music at Someplace Else, a narrow dark room by the lobby of Park Hotel. I love the bar counter, the stage set up for a live band, the cocktails, good music and good finger food
...the makeshift book stalls constructed with wood, bamboo, sheets of corrugated tin and canvas on College Street, or ‘boi para’ as it is referred to by Bengalis
...the visits to one of the most ‘intellectual rendezvous’ in Kolkata, the Indian Coffe House. Every time I think about Coffee House and my college days, I listen to the evergreen song by Manna De – “Coffee house-er shei adda ta, aaj aar nei”
...the evenings that I spent watching the sunset at Outram Ghat having ‘cha’ in a ‘bhaar’
…bunking my classes to play cricket in the winter afternoons
… getting into the tin-plated buses, sharing an auto rickshaw with 5 (sometimes 6) other people, taking a ride in the tram and the metro rail, shopping my heart our in Esplanade, getting on the hand-pulled rickshaw and much much more.
Kolkata is not just a city for me. It’s an experience, an experience of a lifetime filled with so many fond memories... memories that would forever be a part of me. It is a city that would always be my home, no matter in which part of the world I live in.
I wish, along with the novel, Mr H G Wells had actually invented the Time Machine, so that I could relive those days… so that I would never miss...
...the sight of locals staring at westerners, or the ‘whites’, making them really conscious and uncomfortable. Few years ago, on a winter afternoon, I saw a bunch of ‘whites’ playing frisbee at the Maidan. It was surprising to notice that the real action was not inside the playing arena, but outside it, where a sizable crowd had gathered just to watch the ‘whites’ playing
...a bus ride for Rs 3
...a cup of cha at the roadside for Rs 2
...the chicken, mutton or egg rolls, or combinations, at roadside stalls starting from Rs 8
...a plate of chicken or egg chow mien at the same stall starting from Rs 10
...the juiciest mutton steaks at Olypub
...watching movies at Lighthouse, New Empire, Globe, Roxy, Metro, Chaplin, Elite, or one of the other English movie theatres. I felt very sad when, on my last trip, I saw Lighthouse had been turned into a shopping arcade
...the smoke and alcohol-filled evenings at Starlit Garden, the only-men’s bar at Park Street
...grabbing a quick beer on certain hot afternoons at Starlit Garden before proceeding to Kusum’s for their mouth-watering hot kathi rolls
...the Christmas week where the whole Park Street would be lit up from one end to the other with a huge Santa greeting people at the head of Park Street
...the Flury’s all day breakfast —a simple affair comprising eggs, toast, ham, bacon, sausages and brown bread
...michael’s roadside momo stall in Camac Street. The momos cost fifteen bucks for a plate of five on all weekdays from 11 am to 2 pm
...the great music at Someplace Else, a narrow dark room by the lobby of Park Hotel. I love the bar counter, the stage set up for a live band, the cocktails, good music and good finger food
...the makeshift book stalls constructed with wood, bamboo, sheets of corrugated tin and canvas on College Street, or ‘boi para’ as it is referred to by Bengalis
...the visits to one of the most ‘intellectual rendezvous’ in Kolkata, the Indian Coffe House. Every time I think about Coffee House and my college days, I listen to the evergreen song by Manna De – “Coffee house-er shei adda ta, aaj aar nei”
...the evenings that I spent watching the sunset at Outram Ghat having ‘cha’ in a ‘bhaar’
…bunking my classes to play cricket in the winter afternoons
… getting into the tin-plated buses, sharing an auto rickshaw with 5 (sometimes 6) other people, taking a ride in the tram and the metro rail, shopping my heart our in Esplanade, getting on the hand-pulled rickshaw and much much more.
Kolkata is not just a city for me. It’s an experience, an experience of a lifetime filled with so many fond memories... memories that would forever be a part of me. It is a city that would always be my home, no matter in which part of the world I live in.
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