A Bachelor’s Best Friend - II

Let us now direct our attention to the carbs and proteins of the TV world that keep the bachelor in the pink of health. For the English speaking population, there is the eternal source of entertainment aka Star World & Zee Cafe. There are two major benefits of channels such as these:

• You stay in touch with ‘the dude’ in yourself, in spite of crumbling circumstances all around
• You can catch up with the sitcoms that entertained the Western world, a decade later! As they say, better late than never...

Whether it is the evergreen F.R.I.E.N.D.S or the ever-‘blue’ Two and a Half Men, there is something in it for the average male/female. Whether it is the 10-season repeat or re-repeat of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, the singletons make it a point to religiously watch the entire show. It is another thing that secretly they connect with one or more of the characters and wish their lives would have some semblance to the events on the show. Of course, when it comes to Two and a Half Men, the guys stand to benefit from the show, more than the gals. Every guy thinks that he has it in him to live his life like the character Charlie Harper. What reaffirms his faith on himself is that Charlie, in his real life, does live life on that ‘blue’ edge. However, much like the fox and the sour grapes story, the bachelor ends up blaming his ‘definitely-not-happening’ life by stating that Indian girls are more traditional than modern, in their thinking and otherwise!

Then comes the dose of How I Met Your Mother. Definitely innovative in its concept packaging, it makes every guy want to create a similar story of his own life, of how he meets the to-be-mother of their to-be-children. What serves as the major dampener is that most of these unattached folks have insufficient characters in their real life to make the story, especially the female ones! Then there is the LEGENDARY Barney Stinson – the very embodiment of ‘AWESOME’-ness, who does manage to convince every single guy that one can flick between chicks the way his character manages to. And then, like in a cruel movie twist, they get to know that in real life the Barney Stinson actor is happily gay, and the beautiful glass castle that they had envisioned comes crashing down!

Then there is The Big Bang Theory, which with a partial angle of science in it, clearly marks out its audience. As you may have already guessed, it definitely does not include people who fanatically keep at least a distance of 10 feet from science. From the remaining population, one third of the viewers watch the show because they are nerds, the next third watch because they love to make fun of the nerds and the final third watch simply for the girls that flock the nerds! In fact, this last group firmly believes that the ‘Langoor ke haath mein Angoor’ theory of matchmaking gets proven beyond doubt in shows such as these.

Then comes a page out of every Bachelor’s secret fantasy – the show, The Bachelor/The Bachelorette. Though way more infinitely distinguished from its ripped-off (read as inspired) Indian version of ****** ka Swayamvar (She-who-must-not-be-named), it does provide a window to the unhitched people to paint any picture they wish. Although at a philosophical level one could debate the rationale behind the decisions made, one cannot take away the fact that they do contribute substantially to the intellectual fodder of a guy/girl, at least as far as the dating ritual goes.

Of course, Star World’s desi representative does try to keep pace with the exacting standards of the videshi content through Koffee with Karan. It must be noted that even his movies put together have not kept Karan Johar in the Page 3 news as much as the chat show has managed. Just to clarify, Karan is originally a movie Director and contrary to what you would like to believe – definitely NOT Deepika’s uncle! Whether it is the Deepika-Sonam bitching or the Ranbir bashing or the Kareena-Priyanka tic-tac-toe, every Sunday evening telecast has managed to keep the Bombay times and headlines of Mumbai Mirror in print, for weeks thereafter. Not to mention that gals these days have another great gift to give to their exes – a pack of condoms!

Since we are on the topic let me add that it is better to be safe than sorry. A rubber in time lets you shine. So for now let me say “Do Svidaniya!” Till we meet again... Play safe!

A Bachelor’s Best Friend - Part I

Gone are the days when people could, in reflecting mood, say that “A dog is a man’s best friend.” A dog, bitches included (no pun intended), may still be a lady’s best friend, but it definitely does not any longer top a man’s charts, except for men who are already married may be! So what exactly has replaced the centuries of blind faith and loyalty displayed by the canine species towards their human masters? A lot, or should I say very little? After all, sayings such as the one mentioned above seemed to have emerged from the wisdom of generations. But taking into account the way mankind has been making strides in various fields, I would not be surprised if we begin to prove a lot of the ancient wisdom obsolete – a crisis situation for the next generation. Who in God’s name would they believe? Sorry for the digression!

I firmly believe that a 21^st century bachelor’s best friend would have to be the good old idiot box. There it is, accept it or not, television has provided more entertainment to a single bachelor than anything else imaginable, dogs and bitches included (keeping it sex-discrimination free, that’s all – as clarified earlier, no pun intended)! A bachelor’s life, in spite of the perceived appeal outside of the group members, is not all that ‘cool’! Yes, the grass is always greener from the other side of the fence. Though, if you have had the opportunity to actually check out some ‘grass’, you would know that it is definitely not lush green! So let’s go ahead and take a sneak peek into the life and times of a bachelor in the 21^st century...

At the very outset, a bachelor’s life is so full of nothingness, a series of somethings that may almost add up to nothing – if one were to be brutally honest of course! Those of you who have attempted watching television on most days would find a striking similarity with the previous statement. So viewed in totality, it looks intrinsically natural that a bachelor would find meaning in a TV set. Let me take you through some of the contents from the TV set that gives bachelors the much needed entertainment in their otherwise ‘singular’ existence. Things that add ‘meaning’ to their lives!

Let’s begin with the New Year. Do you really think that going down to join the crowds at the Gateway of India/One Times Square/London Eye/Sydney Harbour Bridge or similar locations and watching displayed fireworks as mute spectators “happening”? Add to that the effort of inflicting jealousy on the poor bachelors by stating that kissing your “the loved one” at the stroke of midnight was “the way” to begin the New Year. No way in hell would that work! Just because you do something at the stroke of midnight does not in any way determine what you will continue to do throughout the year. Come on, let’s grow up! So then what should a 21^st century bachelor’s New Year eve plan be? Simple – could you think of anything that could be more stimulating than a drink on the left hand, a smoke joint on the right hand, with an occasional attempt to grab a piece of tandoori chicken, staring unabashedly at Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, drooling occasionally if the situation demanded? Forget the drink or the smoke or the unfortunate chicken! Victoria’s Secret Show by itself would be enough to take you the distance, no pun intended again:J

Another thing that features high on the ‘must-watch’ list of every aspiring ‘dude’ – Reality Shows. It doesn’t matter if it is Roadies, Splitsvilla, Dadagiri, Emotional Atyaachar, programs titled with a permutation of “Love”/“Date” or the zillion other apparently ‘unscripted reality shows’ that MTV and Channel V have been trying to recycle for decades and recent Indian channels have been desperately trying to ‘create’. Packaging, they say in Marketing circles, is the key in showbiz. For the aspiring masses it doesn’t really matter if the bottle contains genuine wine, as long as it reads wine on the covers – it works! So essentially it’s all about a bunch of boys and gals screaming (in varying degrees of intensity) profanities that range from home grown expletives such as B******** and M******** (pertaining to relatives) to imported honours such as S**, F*****and M*****F***** (Fresher, Junior and Senior respectively)! Young, aspiring starlets (both male and female) would go to any extent, literally any extent, to grab their share of TV bytes and attention. Middle aged, aspiring starlets (both male and female) would break personal records of stupidity while anchoring the shows, in an effort to land themselves a more respectable program or show. Anyway, all of this only works in tandem to serve up a spicy platter for the hip viewer – the aspiring dude! Zero risk taken but full benefits enjoyed, minimum pain and maximum gain – what a life!

Then there is the case of our Indian channels providing star dust on the small screen. Just like the rest of the world, the first quarter after the new year is dedicated to Awards and more awards. Even as Hollywood gathers up momentum for the Golden Globe awards, Bollywood in its own inimitable masala style prepares for a bevy of awards and celeb gatherings. Unlike the Hollywood awards which come once in a blue moon, rise up to a crescendo and disappear, Bollywood award shows seem to be eternally on an orgasmic climax, multiple times! In fact, right from the beginning of the year channels make it a point to provide new year shows with superstars, stars and starlets (unemployed folks to be precise) for weeks following the new year! For any person uninitiated about the Indian television way of celebrating new year would definitely be in a cultural shock viewing the new year celebrations in the month of February as well.

Then there are the award ceremonies where each channel presents its own set of awards for the cine world where the only logic stands as – “To win an award the star just needs to be present at the venue.” The only change required for the acceptance speech through the year would be to start the same by thanking the respective channel for honouring them. The rest of the speech would be a repeat rendition of the acceptance speech that every single actor prepares at the beginning of their careers, when they take their Actors Oath – “There are no limits to which I would be willing to stoop down.” And of course, there are other award ceremonies where, of late, the East is desperately trying to meet the West – The Oscars! Confused Indian actors frantically seek their share of media attention by providing their versions of things from the red carpet, imaginary or otherwise. The Oscar judges, with their own selfish objectives of getting themselves recognized as the leading global awards jury, throw open the red carpet to the wannabe world outside of Hollywood. And our desi actors will kill to fall for the bait. All in the name of showbiz!

Although I wish to continue, I refrain, because without any forewarning whatsoever, my cable operator unceremoniously had the cable connection cut because of intermittent power failure. The result – From doing almost nothing yet another bachelor has decided to completely do nothing! Chaio.

A Stub: It’s all that remains in the end!

Caution: You can continue to read provided you fulfill any of the following conditions:
1. You are sloshed/smoked/wasted (chances of you remembering reading this - very rare!)
2. Your sense of humour is still intact (not in any way connected to your ability to use smiley’s in your text, no way!)
3. You are a good judge (you keenly listen to both sides of the argument yet do not let ‘any’ of them affect your preordained decision)

Statutory Warning: The following content has been classified as Adult Material. Do not continue to read if you are below the age of 18!

Now, for just a moment, let’s assume that you were in fact on the wrong side of 18, would you actually have stopped reading? Nine out of ten cases would agree that they would have continued reading and the one case that professed self-restraint is bloody well lying! Period. That, my dear friends, is the new face of abstinence!
Coming to my main agenda, I truly find these warnings ironical to the very core. I am particularly talking about the most enigmatic of such existing riders... And no! It’s got nothing to do with Dan Brown’s disclaimer in the “Da Vinci Code” or the terms and conditions of your ‘new guaranteed insurance plan’. I am talking about one of the greatest cover-ups in human history, a masterstroke for the human vanity, the redeemer of the ‘politically-correct’, the statement that fashionably clothes every ‘ten/twenty pack’ – “Cigarette smoking is injurious to health!” And as if this much hypocrisy was not enough, there is an attached stamp size photograph of a set of ‘photo-shopped’ lungs, apparently to scare the hell out of a person! Phew, what a magnum-opus wastage of the human brain. For those of you still wondering about my identity, let me be very brief. I am the butt of a cigarette, yes, just the ‘butt’!
Some intellectual once defined a cigarette as “a pinch of tobacco rolled in paper with fire at one end and a fool at the other”. A quick check with your dear friend Google will overload you with the points of view from the fool’s end (voiced by supposed intellectuals). Unable to take this insult any longer, I have decided to fight this case from the other end. And as you know, from my vantage point, I see both the fire and the fool from close, real close.
First things first, why is it that people who actually smoke do not create the ruckus, rather it is the non-smokers who are more intent on making a fire out of the smoke? Doesn’t this sound eerily familiar to the “fox and the sour grapes” story from Aesop’s Fables? Next, you are well aware of banks and petrol pumps proudly advertising their presence in certain God forsaken places (usually peaks/valleys). Have you ever heard of cigarettes advertising their availability? Yet they are present everywhere, especially in places where God would be apprehensive about treading! Hope you get the drift, anyway...
Going by the numbers, if smoking were to be a religion, it would undoubtedly have the highest number of followers in the world! Numbers can lie but definitely not in this case. Some unscientific genius once declared in my presence that apparently most of the great thinkers of the world smoked. And I haven’t really wanted to disagree to that. For me though, the conflict really is whether people become smokers first or great thinkers first, much like our eternal ‘hen or egg’ dilemma.
In fact, I have personally witnessed some very ordinary people (bordering unremarkable) utter extremely profound and far reaching insights after communion with the mighty cigarette (its royal cousin ‘grass’ to be more specific). For the skeptics, here is an appetizer for you, an exchange between an Elevated Thinker (ET) and a Paralyzed Thinker (PT):
ET: Is it possible to enjoy a painful death?
PT: (acts as if she is thinking hard and raises her eyebrows in an arc)
ET: What I mean is that is it possible to enjoy the process of one’s death?
PT: (still acting focused)... I mean, could you be clearer?
ET: Can you think of any situation where a person would enjoy the process of death?
PT: (caught in a mixture of trying to act focused when she is sure that she is lost)... (starts to smile but withdraws it halfway, an act validating her state of mind)
ET: When a person starts enjoying pain, with mounting pain there is an increase in their joy. So a person would be happiest when the highest degree of pain was inflicted, at which point in time his/her physical body’s pain threshold would have been crossed. So the person would be the happiest during the rendezvous with death. Simple, right?
(Those of you who can gauge the depth in this, you can pat yourselves on the back as you seem to be an ET already. And to the rest I would say – just get wasted and then go figure!)
Well, coming back. If you haven’t heard this before, let me bring to your notice that you can party hard, binge, drink, smoke like crazy, go nuts – you will die someday… Else you can eat healthy, stay fit, study hard – you will still die someday! So what the heck!
Ask any smoker and they will be able to tell you that some of the most outstanding, noble, deep and for-the-benefit-of-entire-human-race thoughts would have occurred to them even as they were puffing out clouds of smoke in to the eternity in front of them. Do you even understand how self-gratifying this would be? In fact, I am such a ‘piece-of-ass’ that once you have laid your hands on, it’s just impossible to let go.... What say people?
Anyway, in the end, the smoke just dissolves into thin air. The breeze gently carries away the ash. The smoker walks forward in life. It’s just me that is left behind, the butt, just the butt of the cigarette. Everything else vanishes but me. And the memory of the smoker, the finger print on the stub! It’s all that remains in the end…
PS: The views expressed above are completely views of only the author – the ‘Cigarette Butt’ and no one else. Nobody else, either from this world or the other, has anything to do with these views. If you feel positively or negatively affected by all this, please return and re-read the opening lines:-)
Most Important Note: For a reality check, you might want to continue trusting the opinion of Google on this subject, till you find something better...

VIP Frenchie

At the very outset, this is not yet another Rupa Frontline “Sabse Aage” competition. No sound human being could ever come up with an equally, if not more, abysmally pathetic advertisement for chaddi-banian! Of course, the slew of banian ads that have hit the television channels these days are increasingly making me question the sanity of the human race. Now that the intention is clear, let’s move on. The ATP (Association of Tennis Professionals) had been in the limelight for a couple of weeks now. Yes, it is that part of the year when the Very Important Persons in the tennis world wage gladiatorial games on the blood-drenched courts of clay. Welcome to the French Open 2010! A battlefield where each of the soldiers is made to kiss the clay, irrespective of whether it is by victory or defeat – how French(ie)! So you would ask what’s the big deal about it, right? To which I say, there are 2 very important reasons for my affinity with the French Open. One, it is the only tennis Grand Slam played on a clay court. Being relatively slow (with special stress on the word ‘relatively’), watching matches on the clay court somehow irrationally gives me a feeling that one fine day I could be rubbing shoulders with those tennis greats. Two, I just love everything French... It’s such a ‘no-holds-barred’ attitude towards everything. I just love..., hey wait, LOVE – that’s the word I was looking for!
For the benefit of those of you who fall into the BPL (Below Poverty Line) in terms of tennis knowledge, let me share a couple of nuggets. Needless to say, the sum total of my insights about this game would be just about enough to land me as the captain of the BPL team, at the best! Well, like they say, forewarned is forearmed. Anyway, ATP is comprised of three major groups. First, there is men’s tennis. Then there is women’s tennis. And then there are the William sisters! Now don’t you dare laugh it off because one hit from either of their WWE-worthy arms and the kid seven generations after you, would be born with a crooked nose!(who says that only Fevicol can transcend death?) The future of women’s wrestling is on the tennis court! Sorry, I lost track as I was picturizing them. At the open end of the hemline on the micro-mini skirt, to be precise. My sincere apologies! Of course, of late, there is a fourth group that is threatening to create a cult status in the tennis world – a group that blurs the line(s) between the first and second groups. For once, I would like to partly blame the French for their contribution to this emerging group. So much for gender equality!
Coming to men’s tennis, simply put there are two groups of players. First, there are those who have lost at least once to Roger Federer and never felt bad about it! Second, those who haven’t! One direct conclusion would be that the latter haven’t played Federer ever! Otherwise, I believe even one specimen from the second group hasn’t been conceived yet! Let’s shift our focus to women’s tennis now. This is a phrase that spells doom, simply because it contains that exalted creation of God – Women! If God were to give me one chance to forgive him for anything, without a second thought, in Michael Jackson style, I would say “This is it!” Now don’t get me wrong here. I am not trying to rub charcoal and blacken their species. The question is “of what use is rubbing charcoal on tar?”

@All the lovely women reading this – “Please do not get the drift!” and

@ All the not-so-lovely women reading this – “Who gives a damn anyway!”:)
OK, lost again! Women, God! Coming back, women tennis players, much like their male counterparts, fall into two clean categories. First, those whose worst nightmares distinctly involve at least one of the William sisters! Second, those of them who do not sleep at all! I know some of you, in spite of not being professional women tennis players, still fall into that first category. Worry not, you could totally blame visual media for it... Of course, there are a few other interesting insights about the women players. For some unfathomable reason, much like the “did egg come first or the hen come first?” puzzle, I haven’t been able to solve the “did she become model first or was she a tennis player first?” syndrome. In fact, I have this Cold War with Russia because I hold them accountable for this dilemma of mine. Ever since USSR broke up, they have been shamelessly converting naturally-athletic bodies like mine into popcorn-chewing couch potatoes, gaping at women’s’ tennis matches on the TV sets, at the prime time in their lives! Not to take away the fact that for millions of lonely individuals, matches such as these, for whatever reason, added the only noteworthy purpose to their lives. Oh boy, how I envy those cameramen! Now, let’s talk about the third category of ATP players. In fact, just like the rest, there are two kinds of Williams. First, it is Serena Williams! Second, it is Venus Williams! No questions asked. It’s been this way since... World War II did you say?
Finally, coming to the emerging fourth group, the lesser I speak about them, the safer I would be. In this world of GLBT, freedom of speech has lost the race to the freedom of choice. So before things get murky, let’s move on. Guess this brief monologue about tennis should do. Coming back to French Open 2010! What finally transpired during the tournament was the kind of thing that has become the norm in men’s tennis these days. Federer leaves prematurely; Federer fans vehemently declare the French Open worthless; Anti-Federer fans fanatically celebrate his loss and start making Nostradamus-like-predictions that his descent has finally begun and doomsday is near; Nadal reaches the final and wins it; Nadal fans (read Anti-Federer) zealously declare the arrival of the present/future of tennis! Continue in loop. Of course, there was a time when if it was a grand slam, it was FedEx who picked the trophy (I know both Federer fans and anti-fans would be glaring, for different reasons though!)
Next, women’s tennis (only after the exit of William sisters it qualifies to be called thus) has its own favourites through the tournament who finally fail to win, every single time! Then there are those much talked about matches where past success (currently active models sporting Nike/Adidas accessories) meets budding talent (sponsored by Lotto or some such company). Eventually, exactly contrary to the predictions of the ‘trade pundits’, some till-then-not-popular girl goes on to win the tournament! On these rare occasions when two relatively unknown faces make it to the finals of a Grand Slam, I feel inspired by the cricketing cliché that could be repackaged as “It was a day when the game of tennis won!” And now those of you wondering as to how the William sisters failed to make it to the centre stage, here’s your consolation! Because they failed to qualify in the singles they had to remind us of their presence through doubles. And remind they did by winning the doubles championship! As simple as that. Sabse aage, always!
PS: Why don’t Rupa Frontline folks get the William sisters to do a jingle for them? Could turn out to be a much-needed moral boost to their grossly despicable ideas! Finger crossed though.

P.S. I Hate You...

Ever since I had noticed the advertisements aired about the supposedly ‘sabse bada ticket’, I had made up my mind about not watching any of the IPL matches live! Firstly, I have never displayed outstanding attributes of religious fanaticism (the sole reason for my rejection during the campus interviews conducted by LeT and a few other like-minded multi-anti-nationals). And with Cricket having the globally undisputed ‘highest religious following’, I did not really fit into this extremist population. Of course, I do not have anything against live viewership or cricket as such. My disinterest was to be my silent protest against the unduly increasing popularity of Lalit Modi, the ‘Primo Supremo’ (PS), whose actions these days are bordering pure evil! I even skipped an entire meal to drive the nail home completely (had to make-do with snacks)! @Lalit: Dude, I hope you do not take this personally! I would have felt the same way if anybody else had been in your place as well...
Anyway, as a part of my ‘dharna’ I watched every single match on the ‘TV set’! I listened to every single commentary (especially Anjum Chopra – even cricket transforms), including the Sherry Paaji one-liners (for later use to create ‘intellectual fog’ in my office). Though, I must admit that occasionally I did miss the ‘visuals’ of Mandira Bedi (no ulterior objectives btw). I did everything possible to make clear my non-acceptance of the devilish deeds by PS. I even muted the TV every time he appeared in a stadium with different celebrities to “fpeak about what he planff for the next verfion of IPL” or about “the two new fizzling teamf that have joined the IPL rafe”. Now I hate every person who says ‘fa’ as ‘fa’! Sucks! (Pardon the spelling mistake:)). Come to think of it, I actually took upon myself agonizing loads of torture just to thwack him on his posterior, mentally! Can you imagine listening to that brain-numbing cancer-inducing asylum-characteristic laughter of Akshay Kumar, an imitation, that too of Rahul Mahajan! Does even plagiarism have no moral sense of despondency? Micromax – I curse you that your sales will be lesser than even Dimpy Ganguly’s clothing (if there is any such possibility)!
Then there were those fifteen seconds of ‘undiluted buffoonery’ of Oongli Cricket with Baby AB assisted by his dim-witted portly prick and the totally-not-happening chick (hen)! It will really take an earth shattering idea ‘sirjee’ to create something more stupendously fantabulously pathetic than that. Absolute ‘loose motion of words and constipation of thoughts’, as my friend says! Rare though in frequency of telecast, there were indeed some moments of respite, advertisements that do not desperately call for my entry into the ad world ASAP. There is still some talent left in this industry. Sigh! On a side note though: I particularly miss that advertisement by JK Cement. To me that Gandhian babe (clothed to the basic necessity) was the ‘Holy Grail’ of the advertising world, an enigma that even ‘Da Vinci’ or ‘Dan Brown’ would not be in a position to solve! (no offense meant to the personalities named, including that ‘nameless babe’)
So when the option about watching a match live was actually put before me, I was not all that enthused (don’t you dare start doubting my ‘Indian-ness’ because of this!). Well, who would arrange for the tickets? This excuse died in the conception stage itself when I was kindly informed by my caring flat mate that with Reliance serving as exclusive outlets for Mumbai Indians’ IPL tickets, she would ‘home-deliver’ the tickets to me, that too enviable seats! Damn! Another defense wasted! But it is not really possible to watch the match live. Even before you start tracking the ball, the event is completed! A gentleman’s game that it is, the due credence deserving of every cricketing masterstroke is aptly highlighted only through a TV visual (better still a nearby PVR Cinema – you save on your A/C bill, at least that is what Irrfan Khan claims!). However, one of the bright researchers in one of India’s premier institutions brought to my notice two important points. First, that there was a Mumbai Indians vs. Deccan Chargers match in Brabourne Stadium @ Mumbai on a Saturday evening. So what? Second, if there were to be any rankings for Maximum Disclosure of 'Assets' (much like the Kingfisher Fair Play Awards), the Deccan Chargers’ cheerleaders would top the table for the next three years with the same set of clothes (possibly with appropriate adjustments for the rising inflation)! OK, this was an input I couldn’t just ignore! However; do not start making eyebrow-raised weird expressions at me. Miss Opportunity was desperately knocking on my door and I didn’t really want to upset this elusive lady... or whatever!
So finally, no excuse was big enough to miss this mega cricketing event, made all the more subtle because cricket remained a distant and inconsequential objective here. Only a fence stood between us and the charming (for want of a better politically-correct word) cheerleaders. The cricket ground extended beyond them but then for the rest of the crowds in our stand it wouldn’t have made any difference if we were in a mad cricket stadium or a life threatening Mumbai local! So near yet so far! I tell you even this cheerleading was a ‘hotly’ contested battle by itself. I was thoroughly overwhelmed by the antics of this small yet cult group. Allow me to, in typical MBA style with bullet points; highlight/exhort some of the salient features of this exquisite group.
· It was a thoroughly professional group displaying nothing short of the highest standards of ethical/moral behavior (you see ethics and morality are very ‘subjective’ words). Their dressing wasn’t scantily vulgar, it was adequately classy (after all ‘beauty’ lies in the eyes of the beholder!)
· Although only three girls did the dance routine, there was a fourth one present for substitution! Perhaps the only thing I couldn’t really figure out was how they would manage to injure themselves.
· The fielder at deep never missed fielding a ball. In fact, historically some of the most memorable ‘Karbonn Kamaal Catches’ have emerged out of these exotic locations. ‘Youngsters’ on the wrong side of 30 have displayed ‘Ripley’s Believe It Or Not’ moments during their fielding! Take a guess why?
· A good number of ‘bench players’ were invariably found hovering around these regions. Of course, they were only offering drinks/refreshments to players on the field:) Why? What were you thinking?
· A dedicated camera man (preferably imported) brought to our attention heterogeneously innovative ways of looking at the same issue:) Needless to say, he was left with very little time to cover the not-so-over-the-top-antics of the crazy public or say the cricket match itself!
· There was a healthy internal competition rampant between the different cheering groups. If one of the groups was able to create a frenzy in their stands because of their frolics, the other group taking cue, would come up with a mind blowing out-of-the-box routine to get their crowds even crazier. At the end of the day, this open economy system ensured that the consumer got the very best deal and it was ‘paisa-vasool’ all the way!
· Of course, not to forget, there were those other noteworthy ‘eye-turning’ actions of the cheer leaders that were lost within the first 3-4 rows. Well, lesser the revelation, the better it is:)

Now just because I have been going gaga over this particular group, don’t you dare start making judgments on my character and all that associated crap. It’s just that being a scrupulous professional myself, I couldn’t help but appreciate such astounding display of professionalism, slightly paradigm though. By the way, did I tell you that MI (Mumbai Indians) eventually won that match. No matter how much my loyalty to the MI team may be, deep down I wanted Deccan Chargers to bring the match to the line, if not for anything else but letting us watch the wild ‘cheering’! Finally, much as the cricketing cliché goes, “it was a day when the game of cricket won”. Damn it! I don’t actually recollect anything ‘crickety’ about that evening. May be, “It was a day when cricket also won” sounds better:) Primo Supremo – your ‘conspiracy theory’ actually worked! You fooled us gullible folks into believing that in fact DLF IPL was the biggest ticket, knowing very well our fickle fantasies on and off the field. Can I say that I hate you because ‘I just want to hate you’? Hell!

P.S. I hate you....