Of heady feelings and hangovers...

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

It was not too long ago when they were the toast of the nation. But the party’s over and all that remains is a hangover. L Suresh peers through the fog…

By March 2003, they gave nine reasons why they should be called the number two team, behind Australia. By April 2004, they had rival captains despairing with nothing but footwear on their minds. While Steve Waugh was coming to terms with the fact that he was going to hang up his boots with neither the Final Frontier nor a home series win adding a feather to his tattered baggy green, Inzy was actually wishing that he were in Dada’s shoes. Words like think-tank, huddle and victory crept into the vocabulary of the Indian cricket fan as he finally figured out, with a huge sigh of relief, that he didn’t have to pull the curtains, bolt the door and get under the bed every time the Men in Blue clashed with Pakistan in a one dayer or played a test match abroad. And then the alarm rang.

A billion people woke up to reality and rubbed their eyes, more out of sheer disbelief than out of habit. The happenings in the next twelve months weren’t just Wes Craven’s nightmare, it was a nation’s. It took a bunch of individuals to come together and create a world-class team. And it took a team to come apart and leave these individuals stranded. Six men, who started as the Band of Brothers and ended up like a boy band – defunct and disjointed.

Sourav Ganguly – cometh the man, cometh the crisis
48 runs in five test innings and 31 in four one-dayers against Pakistan. 59 in three test innings against Australia.

He thinks he is just a match away from a big score. He thinks he doesn't deserve a place in the World XI. He thinks his future is up to the selectors. Despite his hundred for Glamorgan last week and his delayed entry into the MCC XI for the tsunami relief match, Sourav is doing a lot of thinking. The last time he was on a binary scoring format, India was on the threshold of a miracle – a win against the mighty Aussies. Hardly four years later, the captain finds himself pin coding the scorecard with a string of single digits. Add to this the controversy of a ban, the responsibility of a team going downhill and frequent injuries – when you’re captain, trouble doesn’t hunt in pairs, it stalks as foursomes.

Support, admiration, criticism, anger and now pity - Sourav's cosmic connection with the Indian cricket fan has seen it all. The God of the offside today stares at the word as if it were a football foul.

The road ahead for Dada might just be paved with problems. Ranbir Singh Mahendra is Dalmiya's man. So is Sourav. But there’s no love lost between the two. This could well be the sequel to Kuch Kuch Hota Hai - and as with the original, the hero who has it all might just be ‘Rahul’.

Irfan Pathan – a career on a reverse swing
0- 91 in 13.4 overs in the Videocon Cup. 6-410 in three tests and 0-67 in 8.2 overs in a one-dayer against Pakistan. 2-168 in two tests against Australia.

Long before the Indian Idol began, Kapil’s retirement launched a massive manhunt, with every trespasser being auditioned for the role of an all-rounder. In just 13 tests, Irfan has been dubbed India's next Kapil, found himself a bunny in Yousuf Youhana, been voted the Emerging Player of the Year by the ICC, has taken his first 10 wicket haul - and until recently, found himself torn between a side strain and poor form. (While the poor form remains, the side strain has been sidelined by a shoulder injury.)

It was a career that started like his lethal outswinger, with batsmen finding their chances of scoring going farther and farther away from them, with every passing series. And then began the reverse swing. If only that glorious moment in time when a swinging yorker crashed into Gilchrist's stumps in the 4th test at Sydney had stood still… Today, Pathan has learnt his most important lesson - in Indian cricket it's never lonely at the top, but you’re all alone when you're down and out.

Laxman – you miss some and no one misses you
54 in 6 test innings against Australia. 47 runs in 2 innings against South Africa. Dropped for recent one-dayers.

Cricketer of the year in 2002. A miss in the World Cup. Three tons in the VB Series in 2004. A miss in the one-dayers against Bangladesh and Pakistan. This has been a way of life with a man whose initials have always expanded to express a form that fluctuated from very, very special to very, very suspect.

In the middle of a deluge of runs by Sehwag, Dravid and by half the Pakistani team, a couple of 50s by Laxman seemed more like a puddle that lazily formed besides the pebble that never rolled. And though he would certainly like to be known by his 69 that helped us win the 4th test against Australia in Mumbai, he'll have to live with the ignominy of failure that saw him average nine in the remaining innings – a number that once used to remind him how close he was to a score of 290. Add to this his ‘poor fielding’ and it’s not surprising that of late, the closest Laxman has got to a one dayer has been by pulling his couch closer to the TV.

Parthiv Patel – when every dropped catch becomes a scoop
Last count - 19 Tests? 23 goofed chances? 176 byes? Lost count…

To begin your career at 17 and to have effectively played your last test at 19 – surely life can't be this cruel. Surely the Indian team can't be that talented.

With Dravid taking away his chances of keeping in the one dayers, Parthiv Babyface Patel found himself alternating between being victimised by marriage rackets and appearing in ads on Cartoon Network. As for tests, the Final Frontier series resulted with fate being hand in glove with his fumbles. Australia came in looking for a way to overcome The Wall, but found a gaping hole - right behind the stumps. So while Parthiv’s batting abilities got the media waxing eloquent, his keeping abilities waned. Equally ill at ease with both spin and pace, his cricketing career was kept alive as long as Sourav played the innings of his life – batting for his favourite wicket keeper.

Out of form wicket-keepers behave like goal keepers – they blame their defenders for slip-ups and are no longer seeing the ball like a football. Small wonder then that Parthiv got what he deserved - the golden boot.

Yuvraj – a story without an opening or a middle
47 runs in four test innings against Australia. 25 in two innings against New Zealand.
A highest score of 35 in six innings in the one-dayers against Pakistan.

His first one day innings - the ICC Champion’s Trophy in Kenya – saw him hammer the Aussies for 84 runs. His third test saw him score a glorious 112 of just 129 balls against Pakistan. After that, Yuvi got into the Madonna mode of "I wanna sing, I wanna dance, I wanna entertain" and ended up doing none of the above. A shuffle from middle order to opening has resulted in him watching matches from vantage positions in the ground – sitting on the other side of the ropes.

Nine runs in two matches in the ICC Champions trophy at an average of 4.5. Just 37 runs from three matches in the NatWest Series against England. The 2002 NatWest victory is now a thing of the past. Sadly enough, so seems to be Yuvraj's dominance in one dayers. The joke doing the rounds is that all one needs to do to take his wicket is to wear a t-shirt that says 'spinner'.

Aakash Chopra – when everything that can go wrong, does
186 off 8 innings in Australia. 51 runs in 3 innings in Pakistan. 15 runs in 4 innings at home against Australia

Chopra must be one of those players who, as kids, never believed in reading a book from cover to cover. That should explain his selective reading of everything under D in the coaching manual - defence, defiance and dedication. In the bargain, A for attack, B for boundaries and C for centuries got missed out. The away series at Australia and Pakistan had brought him accolades for his patient stay at the crease and gutsy display of facing aggressive fast bowling. But the Final Frontier series where he drew straws with Yuvraj to figure out who would open, proved to be his last straw.

In Australia, Chopra had a swash-buckling partner in Sehwag who would score 40 for every 10 runs he scored. The pair was then followed by class, form, grit and style – in the form of Dravid, Sachin, Sourav and Laxman. This was a jigaw with the pieces firmly interlocked and holding each other in place - until it came apart. And Chopra, until recently part of a pretty picture, now resembled a used postage stamp - too recent to be of value, too stamped upon to be in circulation again and too slow to compete with the neighbourhood FedEx.

With Greg Chappell voicing his support for the League of Beleaguered Players, it looks as if each of these stories is going to have a happy ending. A new coach, a new captain and possibly a new-look team – let’s hope someone out there rediscovers the joy of winning consistently. They say the best way to avoid a hangover is to stay drunk. And the Indian fan is just waiting to pop a bottle and celebrate. Wonder what the Indian team is waiting for?

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 19 June, 2005)

Who? Me, win?

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

If the winner takes it all, what do the rest of the guys do? L Suresh covers an exclusive awards nite where everyone walks away into the sunset – with an award.

Match-fixing, underworld, endorsements, zonal selection, Page 3… It’s sure isn’t easy being a cricketer. And with so much happening, where’s the time to win? Keeping this in mind, the ICC instituted prestigious awards that were given to countries according to their ICC Test Rankings (after our Patron Saint’s threat that Indian sponsors would pull out if the awards were given out as per the One Day Rankings).

The ‘Yellow, yellow, dirty fellow’ award sponsored by Rin
Nominee: Australia. Winner: Australia

Winning day after day. Being number one all the time. Pounding the opposition to pulp in every match. From Wini, vidi, vici (I play, I win, I beat them viciously) to Fido Dido’s a Dodo (Winning is normal and normal is never boring), every phrase in the dictionary has been used to describe the Ivan Lendls of cricket.

The ‘Lagey Raho’ award sponsored by Alpenliebe
Nominees: India, England, West Indies. Winner: England

India’s sustained campaign for its out-of-form superstars and the Windies’ ‘we’re still rebuilding’ campaigns put them amongst the nominations, but the final award went to a team with heads full of grey matter (What else do you expect when you’ve got nothing but the ashes on your mind?) and the famous chant – from ashes to ashes, from dust to bust.

‘We’re No. 2, so why try harder’ award sponsored by Avis
Nominee: India. Winner: India

Sachin outwitting Shoaib Akthar, Brett Lee and Gillespie on his bike. Yuvraj playing cricket in casuals. Ganguly doing a wooden take on Breathless. Irfan Pathan driving over the hill. And the biggest of them all, (that brought a lump to everyone’s throat when it was beamed on the big screen at the venue) the entire team dancing around the big B, in celebration of an occasion that still remains a mystery to most Indians. This was a winner all the way.

‘Har ghar kuch kehta hai ki usme kaun ladtha hai’ award by Asian Paints
Nominees: Pakistan, Sri Lanka. Winner: Pakistan

Aamir Sohail vs Rameez Raja. Miandad vs Imran. Miandad vs Woolmer. Inzamam vs Shoaib Akthar. Rashid Latif vs PCB. With so much of action going on, who has the time to win? The Paki action men are having a ball – and this one is not doctored.

‘Undress code for men’ award by VIP
Nominees: Sri Lanka. Winner: Sri Lanka

It started as a power game, with a selector, KM Nelson, claiming that ‘he would pull down his trousers in public if Mahanama scored’, in 1997. And it ended with men being stripped of their power. De Mel removed from the selection panel. Mendis resigning and later reversing his decision to quit. The entire Sri Lankan Board dissolved. Army officers taking over the Board HQ. As they say, it was rivolta in the ranks.

‘Connecting People’ award by Nokia
Nominees: South Africa, Zimbabwe. Winner: South Africa

Race rows. Kevin Pietersen and Martin van Jaarsveld heading towards England. At least 7 black players in the 2007 World Cup squad. The famous "Who is Jacques Kallis?" question by the Sports Minister Ngconde Balfour. The Proteas would have done well to appoint an Indian coach – who else can explain the quota system better?

‘Heals fast’ award by Johnson’s Band-Aid
Nominees: India, Pakistan, New Zealand, England. Winner: New Zealand

Shane Bond down with stress fractures to his feet and back. Nathan Astle with a damaged shoulder. Michael Papps hurt on the head. Jacob Oram out with a stress reaction to a back injury. Scott Styris recuperating from arthroscopic surgery on his left knee. Andre Adams, Ian Butler and Michael Mason at the sick bay. New has it that someone sent them a card that said ‘Break a leg’ before they stepped out onto the field.

‘The King of Good Times’ award by Kingfisher
Nominee: West Indies. Winner: West Indies

It doesn’t matter if you win or lose. It doesn’t matter if the West Indies Players Association scraps with the West Indies Cricket Board. It doesn’t matter if Digicel is not on the same wavelength as Cable & Wireless. Doors may bang, female voices may be heard in the corridors well past midnight, but what matters is having a good time, all the time. Because ‘life’s a party, if you can dance, maan!’

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 15 May, 2005)

Can't touch this!

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Murphy’s Law of Parental Agony states that just before a kid’s exams, there will be a cricket match. The B&H WCC in ’85 was more than that – it was a series that changed the way a country saw cricket on TV. L Suresh relives the ‘good old days’…

“Team Ek, Channel Nine’ was the chant of the year in ‘85, to which a cricket-crazy country came to a grinding halt and watched wide-eyed as incredible camera angles, innumerable replays and unbelievably professional commentary transformed a tournament into a tale of fantasy. Like extended foreplay culminating in an erotic climax, the series started small in the sports pages of newspapers, worked its way through live commentary on radio and ultimately exploded into a splash of colour and technical wizardry on television as India stormed its way into the finals. And the road to victory was paved with a series of firsts, not just for the Indian team, but for the Indian fan as well.

A new dawn: The euphoria of getting up at five in the morning, dashing off to beat a million milkmen at the queue and running back in record time to switch on the TV, to hear the ‘thunk’ of ball hitting the stump and sending it cartwheeling – that was music to the ears… The result was Robbie Kerr bowled by Kapil Dev. The feeling was that of a heady cocktail that tasted better than… milk.

Discovering colour: After bugging Dad for a colour television (and ‘fixing’ its arrival just in time for the WCC), imagine seeing a close-up of the ball and realizing that it’s no longer a shiny red, but a pale white! Of course the irony of the situation was dwarfed by the larger-than-life sights – from the united colours of seven cricket-playing countries to the meticulous colour coordination of batsmen, down to their pads and gloves!

Thinking big, before IMAX: While Krish Srikkanth went about manufacturing shots that the world didn’t know existed, Channel Nine captured his aggression with cameras placed in angles that one didn’t know existed. Slo mos from a zillion angles, a giant screen on the field, shots from an overhead chopper… every moment was straight out of a Hollywood thriller.

Australian for commentator: As knowledge lent itself to insights, wit translated into free-flowing expressions and as far as cricket was concerned, it had found the Voice of God in Richie Benaud. Today, listening to the current stock on DD, there’s no doubt that we’ve gone back in time. If only we’d gone back sufficiently enough - to the times before TV was invented.

What d’ya say, mate? Swearing, sledging, cheering, celebrating, sounds of the batsman tapping the pitch down, the ‘whoosh’ of the ball beating the bat… the viewer, for the first time, was privy to all that was happening on the pitch. ‘Where the heck have they put the microphone?’ debates raged in classrooms. Today, twenty years later, we know.

Babewatch: Who cared if Pamela Anderson wasn’t there? Beer, babes and cheeky banners ruled – surely anything that was so much fun had to be classified as sin.

The duck who walks: Walt Disney would have been proud of this. The sight of an animated duck who burst into tears when the batsman ‘went for nought’ and walked with him as the batsman trudged back to the pavilion was a sight to see…and remember.

Images of another day: If Simon O Donnell’s broken bat and Lance Cairns’ baseball bat made spectacular viewing, three unforgettable images remain etched in the mind from the finals. Frame 1: Qasim Omar ‘shooting the duck’ on the giant screen when he gets out for nothing. Frame 2: Sadanand Vishwanath executing a lightning stumping, appealing to the leg umpire and charging down the pitch to congratulate Sivaramakrishnan – all before Miandad could figure out what had happened. Frame 3: Shastri driving his Audi around the ground, with the whole Indian team, in and on it.

“Tram Conductors vs Bus Drivers” read a banner at one of the stands during the final. They couldn’t have said it better, for it was the ultimate joyride any Indian cricket fan could’ve ever had.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 08 May, 2005)

18 (in 1) till I die!

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One man. Fourteen Clubs. Eighteen holes. It turned out to be a day when records didn’t break, but as L Suresh made his way to each hole, a myth exploded …

Hole 1
Big boys play at night
The day the grass stops being greener on the other side, you know you’re standing bang in the middle of a sprawling golf course. That’s the day you realise that you’ve arrived in life – and most importantly, you got there in a golf cart. The path to glory has been paved with sacrifices – you’ve sacrificed cricket for golf and have started making (up) fashionable excuses for not watching a cricket match - “Anyways, we are going to lose” or “What’s the point, all these matches are fixed”. You’ve realised that while big boys play at night, the smart ones play by noon. So, when you’re moving up the corporate ladder, you really don’t mind forsaking the D stand for a glass cabin, do you?

Hole 2
Golf is easy to understand
Yeah? A chilli dip means hitting behind the ball so that it doesn't go very far. Honors refers to the person with the lowest score on the previous hole who gets to tee off first. There are others – jail, lie, casual water, blade, juice, airmail, cabbage, backdoor, dance floor, fried egg…So before you play the game, be prepared to learn a new language.

Hole 3
What you say is what you mean
When you ‘address the ball’, don’t try to talk to it. Just take your stance and get ready to hit the ball. And when you hear the word ‘hazard’, rest easy – it wasn’t meant to be a description of you on the golf course, someone was just referring to a sand pit or a pond – that golfers have to be careful about. Lastly, when you see someone get uppity on the green, don’t ask him to take a chill pill. What you’re asking him to do is swallow a cold golf ball. So take care – what you say may not be what you ‘actually want to say’.

Hole 4
You know all - about the birds and the bees
Well, you could keep the bees away, but as for the birdies – well, when a man’s gotta know, a man’s gotta know. Albatross, eagle, duckhook, clawgrip… In fact, a few centuries back, the golf ball was stuffed with feathers and called the feathery. So, while trying to come to terms with the gator grip, frog hair, skin, skull and other subtle references to the animal kingdom, we insist that you brush up on terminology relating to the feathered kind.

Hole 5
There’s nothing technical about golf
Before you tee off, tell us what the following mean and you’re sure to get a hole-in-one - COR (Coefficient of Restitution), MOI (Moment of Inertia), Molten Metal Weighting Technology, S2H2 (Short, Straight, Hollow, Hosel), Stronomic Insert, X factor and Cast Thermoset Urethane. Golf comes in with a load of technology and if you try to understand it all, chances are, you’ll never have the time to set foot on a golf course.

Hole 6
Golf stands for Gentlemen Only, Ladies Forbidden
Oops, don’t say that aloud. Women stormed the supposed male bastion more than a hundred years ago and have been there and done that ever since. The Brits dominated the game for almost three decades, after which the Americans took over. (Did someone say something about history repeating itself?) Joyce Wethered, Patty Berg, Babe Didrikson Zaharias, Betty Jameson, Nancy Lopez, Michelle McGann, Betsy King, Laura Davies, Annika Sorenstam and Karrie Webb have all added a new meaning to the phrase ‘Ladies Clubs’.

Hole 7
If it’s the Queen’s rule, then women never had it so good
The British Open organized by the Royal and Ancient Club still disallows women from participating (so they have the Weetabix Women's British Open) – someday the Queen, Her Majesty, will reconcile to the fact that the Prince can remarry and that women can play golf.

Hole 8
Golf's the name of the game
Kolf, kolve, golve, gowl, gouf, paganica, het kolven, chole, jeu de mail, cambuca… When a game has so many names the world over and over the years, you can’t blame people for not cottoning on to it – like cricket!

Hole 9
Golf is for grownups
Why wait for our ‘seniors’ to break into the top ten when we can get our kids to do it for us? Finally, we have a No. 2 star in the horizon - Viraat Badhwar, a seven-year-old, and the second best golfer in the world under the age of eight. Tanya Wadhwa - a nine-year-old became the first to complete a Grand Slam of title wins in junior world golf history. And last year, thirteen-year-old Vaishnavi Sinha became the youngest golfer in the country’s top ten as she reached Number 7.

Hole 10
Cricket’s the game that brings in celebrities
Madhavan, Kapil Dev, Shekhar Suman, Aditi Gowatrikar, Tony Greig, G.R. Vishwanath, Syed Kirmani, E.A.S. Prasanna, Geet Sethi, Suresh Oberoi, Rakesh Sharma (India’s first spaceman), Milkha Singh, Charu Sharma, Ashish Ballal – that’s a long list, but not the complete one, of celebrities who have taken to golf in a big way – enough to play in celebrity tournaments. And one thought film stars and politicans playing cricket matches made the biggest news.

Hole 11
A game of golf is great exercise
There are only two reasons why people (like you and me) play golf – for business or for pleasure. Golf courses have been the second most important place in the corporate world where crucial decisions, key mergers and major acquisitions happen. (The top honour for this goes to the men’s room.) And as far as the second reason goes, the real pleasure of playing golf comes much later – at office parties and college reunions when name-dropping attracts a wide-eyed audience. That’s when Randy (Jyoti Randhawa), Raf (Rafick Ali) and Shiv (Shiv Shankar Prasad Chowrasia) become one’s bum chums.

Hole 12
India – there’s life beyond cricket
That’s like saying there’s life on Mars. As far as golf goes, we’ve mastered the art of marketing, advertising, conducting, sponsoring and telecasting the game – the only thing we need to do is catch up on playing it as well. The good news is that the top four Indians in the big league are Vijay Singh (2), Jyoti Randhawa (84), Daniel Chopra (181) and Dinesh Chand (213). The bad news is that except for Randhawa, the rest are just ‘global’ Indians – Singh(Fiji), Chopra (Sweden) and Chand (Fiji). If you can’t create success, adopt it. Haven’t we done that before?

Hole 13
If it’s golf, it must be Tiger Woods
Tiger Woods may be the most popular golfer today, but there are other stars in the firmament. Bobby Jones, the first player ever to win the United States Open, the British Open, the United States Amateur and the British Amateur tournaments in one year. Walter Hagen, the first to earn over a million dollars by playing. Ben Hogan, who won the 1950 U.S. Open, despite having fractured his left collarbone, left ankle, pelvis, and a rib. The Golden Bear, Jack Nicklaus, the first player to win the Grand Slam twice. Arnold Palmer, the first player to win the Masters tournament four times. The hall of fame is larger than you think it is…

Hole 14
You can never be in Sachin’s league
Playing golf may not make you as famous as Sachin, but you can suffer from equally famous ailments like the tennis elbow. However, there are several helpful instructions that can keep a tennis elbow at bay. But it’s up to you to choose between being fit and becoming famous.

Hole 15
Choose a ball by its number
Try doing that and you’ll go mad keeping count. Golf balls have one, two or three-digit numbers printed on them. A single digit is there for you to identify the ball. The two-digit numbers indicate the level of compression of the ball. And the three-digit numbers tell you how many dimples there are on the ball.

Hole 16
There’s a reason why every golf course has 18 holes
If there’s one, it’s yet to be found. There was a time when golf courses had any number of holes – from 12 to twice that number. The year was 1764. The place, St. Andrews (where the British Open takes place). To make it easier for players, 22 holes were reduced to 18. And it became a standard. Hundred years later, almost every golf course conformed to this rule. (Would it have taken them that long to dig extra holes or fill the redundant ones?)

Hole 17
India didn’t know about golf for a long time
We may still not ‘know much about golf’, but the fact is that we were the first country outside Great Britain to take up the game of golf. The royal Calcutta Golf Club, the oldest golf club in India, was established in 1829 – even before the Royal & Ancient Golf Club at St. Andrews! We may not be the best, but we were certainly the first.

Hole 18
There are just 18 holes in any golf course
That was a whammy, because it doesn’t cover the most important place in the golf course – the 19th hole or the clubhouse bar. This is one place where you can beat everyone to it – Tiger Woods included. And the shot of the day could well be one with Tequila and sliced lime.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 01 May, 2005)

When boho meets hobo...

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

Making a fashion statement doesn’t need design skills. It just needs a good vocabulary. L Suresh demystifies an exotic world that is held upright by the four Ps of fashion – Pret, Pout, Party and Page 3.

The genesis of fashion
It all started with Adam and Eve racing against time for their autumn collection "The Forbidden Line". (They had to finish before the last leaf fell.) They launched it before the High Priest of Fashion who unfortunately preferred ensembles to separates. (“Even Noah’s Ark contained a pair of everything.”) "Whatever it is, let it be brief," he thundered. That was how minimalism came to be. And ever since, fashion shows the world over have featured tiny clothes.

Fashion for dummies
If it's haute couture, it's so exclusive that you're out. If it's pret-a-porter, it's so expensive that you can't touch it. If it's ‘a fearless accessorization of a haphazard mix of colours’, you can't understand it. Moral of the story: Don’t try to understand fashion. Just be ‘in’ with it.

Something’s gotta meet
East meets west. Purity and tradition meet depth and modernity. Bohemian meets city chic. The essence of fashion is that something’s got to meet something – even if it’s the neckline meeting the waistline.

A career in fashion
There are three things you could do in fashion – be a designer, a model or better still, get sozzled and write on fashion. Take your pick:

1. Fashion Designer
The first golden rule of fashion - what you are called makes a difference to how often you get quoted. Couturier, Prêt Designer, Corporate Stylist…everything sells, until the day someone labels you a veteran. That’s when you know it's time to acquire an alternate career - forget the ‘pret’ part of fashion and focus on the ‘porter’ bit.

Make sure that even if your clothes aren't eco-friendly, your designs are - so they can be recycled for the next season. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to give fashion tips every season. Be global, use phrases like ‘keep it light’, ‘go for colour’, ‘experiment with shapes’... Don't wonder about why they needed you to say it. Some people never take crucial wardrobe decisions without haute tips.

2. A Fashion Columnist
Sorry dear, but these are sad times for you. (Legend: Anyone you meet for the first time is a ‘dear’. Anyone you know on a first-name basis is a ‘dah-ling’.)
Designers and models can get away (and in fact make a fortune) with minimalism, but not you. You gotta write all you can. Of course, you need to have the inherent capacity to craft sentences that string together ‘georgette kurtis, floral jaal work, peach crepe silk pants, uppers with shimmering threadwork’ and stuff like that.

Dream (up the) Theme
Fashion is like modern art. The theme makes all the difference. And there’s constantly a demand for coming up with beauties like ‘the white-walled splendors of the Taj on a moonless winter night’, or ‘a Russian worker in the St. Petersburg Baltika Beer Factory’.

Pardon my French
Fashion is one field where you don’t have to. From a cloche to an ombréd, let it rip…all the way to gay Paris.

Mix’n’match
Since it will be difficult to constantly come up with newer ways of expressing the latest collection, here’s a helpful tip. Draw a table with two columns. In column 1, fill in words like hippie, boho, vintage, depeche, etc. In column 2, add words like chic, mode, look, expression, inspired, etc. Now, mix and match freely to come up with the most delightful expressions - hippie nouveau, boho chic, vintage chic, depeche mode… Of course, the day you come up with gems like ‘mismatched mixed mosaic look’ or ‘style based on a harmonious balance of perfected intentional messiness’, you’ve arrived.

3. Model
Being waif-like could involve a prolonged battle with the waistline. However, all is not lost, for there are easier ways. Cricketers and out-of-work actors are the most sought after – on the ramp and in various fashion shows.

Lastly, remember to distinguish between boho skirts and hobo handbags. Or your next pret line could well turn out to be the Boohoo Collection.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement as 'Of necklines and waistlines' on 01 May, 2005)

Coach me if you can

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The Indian cricket team has seen it all – from things going right to Wright going. So who’s next? L Suresh reveals the most secretive sting operation ever launched…

No video. No audio tapes. Just the few pages from a diary smuggled out of the BCCI, but enough to launch a Malayalam blockbuster – Oru BCCI Diary Kurippu. Reading the diary threw up damning evidence that made one thing clear. They had used a ghostwriter. Here are a few entries from the diary…

March 28, 2005: Wright has written a ‘Dear John’ to us. (With a cc to the selectors, Patron Saint, captain, vice captain, manager, physio and trainer. Sigh, it’s so difficult to deal with politically correct people!) Like Ganguly’s form, Sehwag’s silence and Pathan’s reverse swing, all good things are coming to an end. And the search begins again.

March 30, 2005: I suddenly remembered having (vaguely) heard of the Wright brothers. John’s here. So where was the other one?

April 1, 2005: I launched Operation ‘Fight for our Wrights’. And allotted an interim ‘Coach ki Khoj’ budget of Rs. 500 crores. (If we need more, we can always arm-twist one of the sponsors.) Will we find the right guy? (P.S: Some idiot spread a rumour that I was baying for Sourav’s blood. Apparently, it was meant to be an ‘April Fool joke’, but how will I face the Patron Saint now?)

April 2, 2005: What a waste of money. (What fun! I’ve never blown up 500 crores in a day ever before!) This John Wright seems to have half a dozen brothers. We found Christopher Wright, but apparently he was caught in some gunpowder conspiracy plot with Guy Fawkes. There was Peter Wright, who became a preacher in Indiana, James Wright, who ended up with the Methodist Church, Robert Wright, who became the Sheriff of Yorkshire, Samuel Wright who went to Cambridge… We knew we had hit rock bottom when the guys came up with Wilbur and Orville Wright. What a pity, none of them were cricketers. (P.S: Since Ganguly is not batting anyways, can he be both captain and coach? But I don’t dare ask the Patron Saint this.)

April 9, 2005: Not a moment to be wasted. We’ve lost today’s match and soon, we’ll have no one to blame it on. Wright or wrong, we’ll need a white skin to control this team. Reason? The Brits did it well for 350 years.

So here’s my shortlist of possible coaches and my assessment of them:

Greg Chappell: Reverse swing and flippers are not enough to win a match. Greg’s the only one who can teach our bowlers underarm bowling. Imagine, had he been our coach in 1986, Miandad wouldn’t have hit that last ball for a six.

Rod Marsh: If Wright’s last name worked for him, it’s the first name for Marsh. With the Indian team teeming with youngsters, it’s going to take Marsh to help them get out of the swampy mess they’re in. As they say, if you spare the Rod, you’ll spoil the child.

Dave Whatmore: Another Australian. And he’s coached two Asian teams. What more do you want?

Tom Moody: I’m not for him. We have enough moody guys in the team already. We won’t get just any Tom, Dick or Harry as coach!

The dark horse: With the Indian team is full of stars, the man of the hour is someone who can handle big egos and get the best out of them. Who better than Subhash Ghai? Okay, he’s not an Australian, but anyone who has handled so many stars as he has will be the ideal choice for the team. India needs a Hero. And who better than Subhash Ghai to deliver?

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 17 April, 2005)

Mad Max II

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

There’s one thing common to Viru and his bat. Neither manages to remain silent. L Suresh takes a look at the man who zags when the world around him zigs…

He was considered a one-day specialist and yet began with a score of one and bowling figures of none for 35. He was tried out in tests against South Africa at Bloemfontein, sending critics into a gleeful search for the proverbial last nail that could be slammed into India’s coffin. By the end of Day One, they were seen using the other side of the hammer, as the nails came out quickly and silently, one after another – he had just scored a hundred on debut.

Either desperation or inspiration forced the team’s think-tank to send him opening in the first test against England at the Lords in 2002. He scored 84 in the first innings and followed it with a 106 in the first innings of the second test. (His Highness, the Nawab of Najafgarh goes ballistic in the first innings and annihilates the opposition. In the second innings, he rests.)

If he defies convention when he bats, he defies political correctness when he speaks. After blasting the hapless Pakistani bowlers for a double ton, he then went on to blast the pitch in public when over nine hundred runs were scored in the first three days. By the end of the test, his crosshairs shifted focus yet again, from the pitch to his teammates – the batsmen in particular. Not only did he consider himself ‘the only batsman capable of leading India to a win’, he also came down heavily on other Indian batsmen for ‘playing for a draw’. At the end of the first one-dayer at Kochi, he could not hide his disappointment at the likes of Yuvraj and Kaif not being able to take India to the 300-run mark, a target that they were cruising towards, even at the end of 40 overs. (Perhaps Sehwag would do well to remember two things. One, if there ever comes a day when your bat stops talking, the world will bay for your blood. Ask Dada! Two, when you talk, the world listens to you. Be hauled up by the ‘powers that be’ and you hang alone. Ask Cheeka!)

Try applying a pattern to his performances and you are stumped – it is never the same. There are times when he starts like a Rolls Royce, smooth and silent and launches into overdrive so fast, you don’t realise that the man has reached his 50. There are times when he kick-starts like a bullet, noisy and powerful, and makes heads turn with every pull and every loft. And of lately, there have been several times when he starts with a life, spluttering, spooning a catch, nearly-being run out…Like a ‘katara’ scooter - tilt, shake, kick, hold clutch and a minute later, taking on the streets, sending pedestrians for cover.

There is always a tendency to compare a player with the greats of the past. While Sehwag had reportedly modeled his batting style on Tendulkar’s, today the two are radically different – one has a glorious record behind him and the other, a glittering present. (But as a nation, we shall continue being a team that depends on one man – in the 80s, it was Gavaskar, in the 90s, it was Tendulkar and now, it is Sehwag. Funny how people in other countries consider cricket to be a team game!)

If there’s another player before Sehwag who, with his records, his bludgeoning strokes, his brutal assault of bowlers and his staggering strike-rate, excelled in both versions of the game, it has to be Aravinda ‘Mad Max’ de Silva. Just compare the two – both right-handed batsmen, both crafty off-break bowlers, both capable of winning a match single-handed. And both with a passion for fast cars – nothing like a roaring drive down the fast track, complete with the smell of burning rubber. While Aravinda has had 93 tests and 309 one-dayers to prove himself as a bowler, Sehwag has surged ahead as a batsman, with a higher average and a better strike-rate. (That’s what happens when Sehwag is compared to any player. Even a strike rate of 81.13 can look second-rate!)

From 1984 to 2003, Mad Max spun a tornado across every cricket ground in the world, leaving behind a devastated opposition. And now, it’s the turn of the sequel.

There again lies a difference. This could turn out to be a sequel that could just be better than the original.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 10 April, 2005)

One day in the life of...

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

There are days when skill, technique, finesse and temperament get blown away by sheer speed and raw adrenalin. L Suresh looks at six such days that are already here…

It is said that there are only three things in life that swing both ways – a Manoj Prabhakar delivery, the sexual orientation of a few and an Indo-Pak one-dayer. If at all science can be applied to identify a pattern to the 95 matches played between the two teams, it has to be the Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle – the more precisely a team’s position is determined, the less accurately is the outcome of the match known at any given instant. (Of course, that could exclude bookies – but one is equally uncertain about this as well.) If only the BCCI or the PCB had the foresight, they would have registered the PGA’s tagline of ‘Anything’s possible’ a long time back. (Between a General at one end and a Patron Saint at the other, anything’s still possible, but we’ll leave it at that.)

When differences are settled
Two teams that are both unpredictable, swashbuckling, mercurial and loaded with talent that never quite translates into winning performances. But the similarities don’t stop there. It’s incredible how even the highs and lows of the two nations go hand in hand. They scored a whopping 371 against Sri Lanka. We battered the same opposition for 373 and then bettered that score with a 376 against the Kiwis. They folded to a paltry 43 against the Windies. We gave chase, but were left out of breath at 54 all out against the Lankans.

Even when the ICC began twisting the bowling arms of all cricket-playing nations, both of us had casualties - Shoaib Malik and Harbhajan Singh. And while spinners were being reported for suspect action, the pace bowlers from both teams were reporting at their respective sick bays for pulled muscles, torn ligaments and sore backs.

Where differences set in
Today, they’re ranked 4th in the ICC ODI ratings. We’re 11 points and 4 places behind. The results of matches played between the two teams are no different – while we’ve won 33, they’ve won almost twice that, having scalped us 58 times. Ever since we beat them 3-2 in their backyard, we’ve played them 4 times and have been outplayed the same number of times.

We like our tests better…
Normally India finds it convenient when one dayers are held before the test series… not that it helps them adapt to different versions of the game, but it provides Ganguly with a convenient excuse after a customary loss in the ODI series – ‘we’re a better test side, so we’re looking forward to the test series.’ There’s no such luck this time, with the test series over…

United we stand, collectively we fail
As for India, the series was completely predictable, Ganguly failed, Sehwag shone, Dravid did The Wall – Part 23 and Kumble sent scribes scurrying to the dictionary of cliches to dig out phrases like ‘wine that matures with age’. As for the rest, they simply rode a sinusoidal wave of alternating performances – ranging from the awesome to the awful. What is it about the Indian team that it succeeds in patches, but fails collectively?

Yet again, we didn’t fail to make heroes out of players who were, until recently, auditioning for key roles in their test side. Thanks to this tour, Kamran Akmal will never again have to fight for his place in the team. And Asim Kamal has grabbed the opportunity with both hands (though Inzy would’ve wished he’d done the same with all his catches). Afridi’s place in the test team will never again be questioned (in spite of the fact that he bats ‘like a four-year old’.)

The teams for the one dayers
A non-playing captain. A vice-captain who also keeps. A star batsman who happens to be the highest run-getter in the world. Two young turks who are still riding high on their NatWest conquest. And the Nawab of Najafgarh who truly deserves his place in the team in any form of the game. Obviously that leaves the player who ranges from Very Very Special to Very Very Suspect – and he had to go. One doesn’t dispute the decision. One only wishes a few more accompanied him. And unless Dinesh Mongia bowls like Afridi and Ganguly like Razzaq, one cannot see the superior wisdom of the selectors in leaving India’s spearhead Kumble out.

As for them, well, they have little to complain about. Shoaib Akhtar is not in, so their chances of winning are high. Their batsmen have all been nursed to form by our team and the part-time bowlers have been converted into spearheads. Perhaps the only thing that they are likely to miss is the bowling of Shoaib Malik, but then, one has got to give the Indian team a fighting chance.

A reshuffled batting line-up: Long after Afridi turns 35 (guess that would be after the 2019 World Cup, right?) and retires, speculations would still be on about his 'demotion' down the order. But it seems to be working – it worked wonders in Australia and against us, when he played a crucial role in slamming the door on our faces in the ICC tournament with his 25 off just 12 balls. Another masterstroke was sending Shoaib Malik at No. 3. It has always worked – at least against India. Power, technique and class be damned, the man is simple, downright effective.

Spinning a success story: A year back, they were dismissed as part-time bowlers. Under Woolmer, Afridi and Shoaib Malik launched an offensive that has been extremely effective against India – surprising considering the fact that Indians are supposed to be the world’s best players of spin. Together they managed 7 for 38 off 10 overs against us in the Videocon Cup in Netherlands. The league match face-off in the ICC tournament and the Asia Cup, and the BCCI Platinum Jubilee Match saw equally spirited performances from the two. Of course, Malik will be playing purely as a batsman in this series, but then it could well be Kaneria and Afridi against Team India.

To scamper or to chase? : While we have, over the decades, alternated between being solid ‘defenders’ and good ‘chasers’, the Pakistani team seems to at ease with both – in the 6 of the 9 matches they’ve won against us in the last year, they’ve won 3 matches batting first and 3 matches batting second.

While we’re still busy trying to shrug off the tag of chokers and poor chasers, they seem to be focused on a different aspect of the game – winning.

A boundary off the bad ball and a single off the good one: In the beginning, there were frontline batsmen (classic stroke-makers like Gower) and there were pinch-hitters (basically, tailenders like Lance Cairns who could heave wildly and have more hits than misses). Then came along a youngster named Dean Mervyn Jones, who transformed one-day cricket in the 80s with his simple philosophy of wearing the opposition down through singles. Javed Miandad imbibed this philosophy and brought it to Pakistan. Today he has a whole team of batsmen - from Salman Butt to Inzy, Youhana, Younis Khan, Razzaq, Malik and Afridi, who are all stroke-makers capable of scoring at a fast clip.

Now to our side of the story…

For over a year now, when it comes to one-dayers, we seem to be on an octane-powered jet lift in the Petronas Towers, hurtling 452 metres down to street level. With just Zimbabwe, Kenya and Bangladesh behind us and with Kenya on the verge of losing their ODI status, it’s rather lonely at the bottom. There was a time when we were No. 2 (had we been Avis, we would’ve tried harder, but then…) and that was ages ago. What followed was a steady slide down to No. 8 – probably the only signs of consistency shown by us in the world of cricket.

So what does it take for one to start at the top and work one’s way down?

A middle (dis) order: When Dravid, Kaif and Yuvraj are in form, it’s hard to lose. And with Sachin and Sehwag firing at the top, on a good day, we can even take on Australia. But our problem is that on a good day, there’s just one good performance (sometimes two) and on a bad day, well, it’s a collective day off for all. If, for a change, we are not searching for openers, then there is a big fight just one place below at No. 3, with Ganguly, Mongia and a recently promoted Kaif vying for the spot.

No spot, no shot: When one reads reports of cricketers sulking because they were moved down the order, one can’t help feeling exasperated. How does it make a difference coming at No. 3 or at No. 4 (or even No. 5 for that matter)? Playing at No. 3, you could come out in the 38th over when the score reads a healthy 190 for 1. And playing at No. 4 you could find yourself in the centre in the 6th over when the score reads 8 for 2. So how does this thing work? What makes it worse is when players attribute their non-scoring performances to this shuffle. As the cliché goes, ‘It happens only in India’.

Spinning out of orbit: None for 57 off 6.2 overs. Two for 14 off 10 overs. Howzzat for extremes? These stats, belonging to Kumble and Harbhajan in two consecutive matches (we lost both) in the NatWest series against England reveal the larger picture – lack of consistency. Unlike the Pakistani team, ours is a team full of part-time spinners – Sachin, Sehwag, Yuvraj and Mongia. If only we can take a leaf out of the Sri Lankan Team that won the ’96 World Cup…History has shown that fortune favours the team in which bowlers can bat and batsmen can bowl.

Batting to a field: A phrase found only in our coaching manual. So, while the world over, the bowlers bowl to a field that they set, we do it differently. Our batsmen can be seen playing straight to the fielders. Great shots, flowing drives, exquisite cuts, mighty pulls… all straight to a fielder. So no runs, no rotating strike and no winning total. That takes us to the next issue…

All strike, no rate: The last couple of years have seen Sachin, Sourav and Dravid slowing down perceptibly, in their attempt to play through the innings. This desperate jostling at the top to play sheet anchor not just defies imagination, it also makes mediocre bowlers look world-class, with figures of 3-32 off 10 overs. With Yuvraj found wanting against spinners in recent times and with Kaif having to prop the batting when everyone else fail, it’s only up to Sehwag to step up the score. And if he fails, what follows is a test match in coloured clothing.

Well, this one day series will be neutralising a few things – there are no day-nighters. So there’s no issues of chasing under lights, sighting the ball, the ball getting soggy or the outfield becoming slow. The toss may not make much of a difference either. Not much can happen to a pitch in one day (unless one defied medical science by doctoring the pitch). Nor will there be much dew in the morning, considering the heat wave in most parts of the country.

Tall scores, lusty blows and hapless bowlers are likely to be the order of the day, as the bat dominates the ball and sends the Manhattan and the mercury soaring. By virtue of their faster run-scoring abilities, Pakistani definitely has an edge over India in this one-day series.

From India’s perspective, what we need to remember is that batting first or second will not make a difference.

But winning will.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement as Final Analysis on 03 April, 2005)

Winning is everything

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 13 March, 2005)

Make sure that everytime you put pen to paper, you win an award. L Suresh tells you how…

I think, therefore I write.
I write, therefore I win awards.

What’s the point in writing 800-odd pages of a book if it doesn’t fetch you a Booker or a Critics Award? Let’s face it, your chances of winning an award are bright if :

You are a global Indian: Is your Mom half-Portuguese and half-Italian? Is your Dad a Tam Bram? You’re on! The more exotic the cocktail, the brighter are your chances of making it big. Latinos, Spaniards, Bangladeshis… Get the (inter-continental) drift? Of course, if your folks are the good ol’ ‘down South’ kinds, remember that Salem, Paris, Broadway and many other places can be conveniently substituted with their namesakes abroad.

It’s all in the name: The next time your Dad tells you that you should ‘earn a good name’, tell him that he should have given you one. Because, names like Kate Kuppuswamy and Tony Iyengar are clearly winners. It’s all a matter of getting Hinglish or Tanglish with your names. So the next time you hear someone mention name-dropping, you can gather that it’s about dropping your name - and taking on a more colourful one.

Occupational hazards: A college dropout? Experimented with a lot of unmentionables? Worked as a stevedore, a guide, a foreman, a social worker, a lifeguard and a lift operator? Great, your career is already on its way up. The lesser you did, the more it works in your favour. So as far as professions go, anything conventional is a no-no (sorry to break 3 million hearts, but that includes BPOs too).

We’ve seen who wins. But what wins?

A bestseller: You have a simple storyline with two men (revenge) or a man and a woman (romance). So the next logical thing is to write a simple book right? Wrong! When it comes to writing paperbacks, you’ve got to KICK (Keep It Complicated and Kind-of -longwinding). Start with deepest Africa. Cut to Libya/Israel/Iraq. (Depending on whether you want to bring in Gadhafi/ Mossad/ Saddam.) Cut to the White House. (Bring in the US President and the FBI.) A couple of failed assassination attempts, a chase across three continents and now for the grand finale in the last 100 pages – forget everything that you’ve written about thus far and begin your actual story.

Historical fiction: Make sure your work is preceded by at least three years of research (aka downloading pdfs of other books on the same subject from the net. Key pages from these books can be part of yours as well. If anyone accuses you of plagiarism, tell them that it’s just history repeating itself). Always remember to throw in a couple of conspiracy theories. (Like King Arthur was actually black, the Round Table wasn’t actually round, Alexander in India was known as Alex Pandian…) It works – history will tell you so.

Indian contemporary writing: Start with an autobiographical description of yourself. Bring in the backwaters of Kerala. Ruminate about the world. Delve into history. Add a bit of fiction. Layer it with philosophy. It might leave your head spinning, but be happy that you’ve spun the best yarn of your life.

One last thing. You could have written 80,000 words. But it is the forewords (from Page 3 personalities) that make all the difference. Famous painters, columnists, filmmakers, retired cricketers… Take your pick. Sometime in the future, it will be time for you to take a bow.

Happy writing!

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 13 March, 2005)

Challenge Who?

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

A rapid-fire 96 hour one day tournament. A four-day affair that is seeing teams struggle to notch up 200 runs on the board. An out-of-form middle order that is trying to get back into the thick of action. Injured stars who are desperately trying not to miss the bus. Are we really ready for THEM?
L Suresh wonders…

As you wind up yet another lazy weekend over the next 24 hours and get set to face the inevitable – Monday morning – a handful of men from across the border will be doing the same. Only they’ll be packing their clothes, kissing their families goodbye, boarding a flight and travelling a few hundred miles for another day at the office, one that will keep them at their jobs for the next seven weeks, till April 18.

The great Indian journey
Ahmedabad or no Ahmedabad, Akhtar or no Akhtar, Woolmer’s boys will be entering the jaws of a series, with a desperate need to fight as if their life depended on it. Chances are, at the end of this biggie, the team may never be the same again. If the team finds itself in troubled waters, a new captain could steer the team to the Caribbean Islands for its Calypso caper in May. On the positive side, a let-it-rip fast bowler could finally emerge from the shadow of Shoaib Akhtar and claim a bagful of wickets, besides his rightful place as a pace spearhead. A few batsmen could finally do away with their crown of thorns – called inexperience – that they’re forced to wear as newcomers, and add a few feathers to their cap (like Michael Clarke), besides avoiding being mistaken for practice bowlers (like Yasir Hameed) by Indian players. A spinner coming in from the ice age could end the careers of the likes of Saqlain (who has probably by now played more matches for Surrey than for Pakistan). But most importantly, the team could continue with its winning ways against India, (so what if it were the one dayers) with four consecutive wins behind them.

The Challenger Charade
Back at the ranch, the Indian team is fresh from a series that challenges the intelligence of any cricket buff – the Challenger Series. A limited overs tournament as a run-up to a test series – how drole. After four days, 2040 runs, 33 worn-out players and a ravaged pitch, one would assume that this series could open the doors to those whose knuckles are completely bruised, with the amount of knocking they have done over the years. (The flip side to this story – are a couple of match-winning performances good enough for a player to get into the big league? But that’s for a different day and a different series.)

Venugopal Rao, Dinesh Mongia, D S Jadhav, NK Patel, RP Singh, S Dhawan, Dhoni, Robin Uthappa, Murali Kartik, Nehra…Just a few names that drew attention in the tournament alongside the likes of Dravid, Yuvraj and Kaif. But just how many of them are going to make it to the team (read playing eleven), with almost 10 slots already taken up? (The story’s the same for both tests and one dayers.) So that brings us to the key question – What’s the point?

That also brings us to the next tournament – the Duleep Trophy. The two matches played so far got over in three days instead of four, with over ten wickets falling per day and teams averaging around 183 per innings. Substandard pitch, substandard conditions, substandard teams…whatever be the case, the result is a tournament below par. SS Paul, JP Yadav, Ashish Nehra and Amit Mishra were easily the pick of the bowlers. But how many of them are actually going to be picked for the team?

Being outclassed by class
Erring on the side of caution by selecting the same team over and over again has led to the abuse of a well-known cricketing theory – class is permanent, form is temporary. India is probably the only nation in the world where a cricketer is ‘allowed match-practice’ to ‘get into form’. This typically happens at the expense of a match. Of course, a few thousand miles away and approximately four and a half hours ahead, Mathew Hayden can be dropped after four years of scintillating form, Bichel and Bevan can be given the cold shoulder after years of carrying the team’s responsibilities on theirs’, Stuart MacGill can be known as the poor man’s Warne despite redeeming himself through every given opportunity (160 wickets with 10 five-wicket hauls and two perfect tens in 33 tests) and Lehmann can be left looking to brother-in-law Craig White for help for a season in the English county. All of these lead to a corollary to the theory on class, now being made famous by the Aussies - winning is permanent, records are temporary.

The Aussie Avalanche - in three acts
We went into the ‘Last Frontier battle’ after three disastrous series (okay, they were all one dayers). Our batting clearly wasn’t clicking and yet we fooled ourselves into believing that in test matches, things would be different. The dirty facts that emerged from our team’s batting statistics after it was sent to the cleaners by the Aussies prove that it wasn’t to be. This was a show all of us would have loved to miss.

Act I: A gloomy opening:
Two of the lowest averages in the team were 3.75 and 2.00. They belonged to our openers, Messrs. Akash Chopra and Gautam Gambhir.

Act II: A drab middle
Dravid, Laxman, Ganguly and Sachin put on 80 runs between them each time they came out to bat, with averages of 27.83, 17.57, 19.66 and 17.50 respectively. The famed middle order couldn’t do one thing right – middle the ball. (And there was a completely exposed Yuvraj with 15.66, who neither belonged to the ranks of the middle order nor fitted into the opener’s slot.)

Act III: An exciting end
The top five batting averages belonged to Ajit Agarkar (59.00), Sehwag (42.71), Irfan Pathan (33.33), Parthiv Patel (of course, it’s a different matter that he kept as if he still had his batting gloves on) (31.20) and Kaif (30.60). (In the race for averages, we regret to announce that the middle order came towards the end.)

The way ahead
So that was the past. And as we look into the future, there are three issues that we need to address with a sense of urgency before Ganguly loses the 298th toss of his life. (Well, that’s one thing he certainly can’t be blamed for. And two, the number stated is fictitious – in case someone is seriously counting.)

1. We need overperformers
What do you think would be the claim to fame of the following – Andrew Symonds, Shoaib Malik and Scott Styris? Class? They belong to a unique breed of cricketers, classified as overperformers – those who are always in the background, undervalued and underestimated, but are always ready for battle. There would be stars in the team, but it would be men like these who, with consistent, effective performances, repeatedly pulled the chestnuts out of the fire. (One has to admit that after what seems like a million years, all of them have finally begun to behave like mortals, with injury and bad form dealing double blows.) Ours is a team full of stars. But where are our overperformers? Where are the men who would quietly switch on the light at the end of the tunnel when the stars failed to shine?

2. We don’t need wounded tigers
Newcomers waiting to be called. Old timers waiting to regain their silken touch. And then there are the big guns who can take the team places and are desperately staking a claim to their place in the team. Sachin, Irfan Pathan, Balaji, Nehra… Of course, for Bhajji, it is the mind that needs to be healed as he has to look at bowling from a completely different angle (preferably less than 15). So, are we really ready to take on a team – specially one that’s just on its way from Down Under, licking its wounds and seems to see red at the very sight of anything in blue?

3. We need to (successfully) face the unknown
We’ve always managed to vanquish known enemies. But then it’s the fear of the unknown that haunts us. Katich, Clarke, Andrew Hall, De Bruyn… We’ve created stars out of little-known players in every series we’ve played. And that’s why this Pakistani team could be dangerous. It’s a team full of little-known entities. We could be spun away by Shoaib Malik and Afridi before we say Danish Kaneria. We could be whacked right out of the game by Taufeeq Umar, Salman Butt, Yasir Hameed or Asim Kamal while we lay traps for Inzy, Youhana and Younis Khan. Sami or Naved-ul-Hasan could rip through us while we breathe easy with the thought of Shoaib Akhtar cooling his heels back in Rawalpindi.

The last time around, playing Pakistan after playing Australia was like playing Sania Mirza after playing Serena Williams. This time around, we’re playing them at home – after a few days of domestic cricket, which at best could be described as being marginally better than net practice.

So before we discuss the possibilities of throwing a challenge at our opponents, we need to ask ourselves one very pertinent question.

Are WE ready for a challenge?

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 27 Feb, 2005)

Carry on Doctor!

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

How many doctors does it take to put the Rawalpindi Express back on track? Last heard, L Suresh was still counting…

The man compares himself to a jet aircraft (How can a plane take off without a runway?), the world calls him the Rawalpindi Express and he’s known to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. (Thus resulting in the origin of the famous expression, ‘It’s a plane! It’s a train! No, it’s Superman!’)

Shoaib Akhtar. 144 Test wickets. 186 one-day wickets. 94 scraps with his captain and board. 52 temper tantrums. 79 physical breakdowns. 63 injuries. How can one doctor ever be enough?

The story so far: Life’s all about options. And no one demonstrates this better than the PCB which appoints the three musketeers: (a) Greg Compton (Trainer), (b) Murray Stevenson (Biokineticist) and (c) Darryn Lifsun (Physiotherapist). In comes Shoaib nursing (i) a major hangover, (ii) a minor jet lag and (iii) a suspected injury. The question is – whom does he choose to consult? The answer is (d) Dr Tauseef Razzak, a private trainer. (Shoaib explains – ‘Look, I just called enquiry and asked for Razzaq’s number. It was only on meeting him that I realised that my call was wrongly connected to emergency instead of enquiry and they gave me Dr. Razzak, while I was trying to meet Abdur Razzaq.’) The PCB is miffed and sets up an inquiry committee comprising (yes, you got it right) three members who look into four violations of the contract.

So Shoaib goes back to Compton. But Compton goes back to South Africa. (“I thought they wanted him to heal. But then I figured that they just wanted him to heel. It’s a job for a vet, so that left me high and dry. I told myself that handling Klusener would be easier and packed my bags.”)

Meanwhile, Stevenson and Lifsun hear the announcement of Prince Charles’ marriage to Camilla Parker Bowles on PTV and decide to cheer themselves up with a celebration (imagine being paid to do nothing – how miserable can life be?). So they leave on a holiday to London. And Shoaib is left in the lurch.
The PCB decides that the panacea for the situation has to be – another doctor.

In comes Dr. Meesaq Rizwi, a sports physician. He is given four patients - Mohammed Sami, Shabbir Ahmed, Mohammad Khalil and obviously Shoaib. In keeping with his character, Shoaib doesn’t report for a fitness test. (Shoaib explains – ‘Shucks, I thought that I was the pick of the lot, until it dawned on me that I was being picked at by the whole lot.’). The back up reinforcement for this drama comes in the form of another medico – Dr. Sohail Saleem (Coordinator, Medical Commission).

Since the appointed doctors were all away visiting their homelands, the PCB comes up with a masterplan – to institute a visiting faculty. A few more docs join the party, with Dr. Abdul Wajid, Dr. Waqar Farooqui and Dr. Azhar Turab showing the way.

Does Shoaib prove his fitness? Does he tour India? Do the doctors stop crawling out of the woodwork at the PCB? This forms the rest of the story in this comic caper. So if you’re keen on a flick that has more quacks than a Walt Disney animation film, this one’s for you.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 20 Feb, 2005)

Over and Out

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

There are 10 ways in which a batsman can get out in cricket. The 11th obviously is being bowled over by an actress. L Suresh attempts to offer some quasi-Freudian explanations to a simple question – ‘Why?’

The names of cricketers who have been (choose one) allegedly/ unfortunately/disastrously (take your pick) linked/married/stuck to actresses has provided enough grist to the rumour mill that has powered their journey all the way from Page 16 to Page 3. The list reads like a world-beating Dream Team, complete with openers, a middle-order, bowlers and allrounders - Gavaskar, Mohsin Khan, Richards, Pataudi, Yuvraj, Rohan Kanhai, Alvin Kalicharan, Sourav, Azhar, Sandeep Patil, Zaheer Khan, Shoaib Akthar, Gary Sobers, Ravi Shastri, Kapil Dev and Imran Khan. (137 other lesser-known names have been omitted to restrict the team to just 16 members.)

It’s rather difficult to explain the ‘who, what, why and how’ of this phenomenon. But as Freud once said, “Man who goes to movies sees stars.” It is by delving deep into the human mind and its fascination for the silver screen and the pretty young things that are added on for an item number, that one gets to understand the subtler implications of cricket meeting cinema. The easier way out, however, is to watch some of the biggest hits in recent times and understand how they have all been duly inspired by some of the stories that we already know about.

#1: Autograph – three’s company
Efforts are on to make the Hindi version of the highly successful Autograph. Zaheer Khan’s playing the lead, romancing Gauhar Khan, Rakshanda Khan and Isha Sharvani. The highlight of the film is Zaheer on a Suzuki Hayabusa 1300 CC riding through the roads of Switzerland singing the Hindi version of ‘Nyaabagam varudhey’. (This is a Hindi film, remember?)

#2: slegnA s‘eilrahC – three’s a crowd
Sorry, that’s the Urdu version of Charlie’s Angels, with Imran ‘Charlie’ Khan and his angels Zeenat Aman, Goldie Hawn and Jemima. After a nerve-wracking climax, Zeenat and Goldie fade in the sunset, Imran holds aloft a World Cup and the film dissolves into a montage of shimmering images that feature a large hospital – a scene that brings a lump to everyone’s throat.

#3: ‘Jo Jeetu wohi Sikandar – the Jumping Jack Complex
It’s surely not the fault of an actress if she has to run after/run with/run away from a hero dressed in all white down to his shoes, all day. That’s the reason why she continues to chase men in white. This forms the plot for the film ‘Jo Jeetu wohi Sikandar’. Ravi Shastri and Shoaib Akthar are vying to play hero. Last heard, Shoaib even missed a match Down Under and was seen boogeying in a disco, to ensure that he played the role of Jumping Jack to perfection. Meanwhile Ravi is banking on the fact that he could keep his clothes spotless white even at the end of a match, to help him grab the role of the ‘man in white’.

#4: Dil ke Carib – a calypso summer
Even as Amitabh was battling his confusion over ‘Robert’ and ‘Andy Roberts’ in Amar Akbar Anthony, the likes of Gary Sobers and Richards had already created enough chaos amongst the whole lot of us with a heady mix of affairs, actresses and other key ‘issues’. So while our batsmen organized the processions from the pavilion to the pitch and back, the West Indians took charge of the Carribean Carnival – on and off the field.

#5: Shabd – when words fail
Any comparison made between jargon used in the film industry and in cricket would reveal how much the two have in common - shot, hit, draw, lights, (making a) silly point, (shaking a) fine leg, reaching a hundred, contract, brand ambassador, ad film, Bhai, Du-bhai… In spite of all this, there are times when words fail to cement relationships. That’s the plot of Shabd, the story of people who lose the plot as they run out of words. Mohsin Khan, Yuvi and Dada are in the reckoning for the plum role of the strong, silent type.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement as The Game of Love on 13 Feb, 2005)

Cricketers say the darndest things...

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

‘Can a plane take-off without a run-up?’’ and other such unbelievable questions posed by the intelligentsia of the cricketing fraternity, answered with equally amazing insights by the nation’s cricket expert Mandira. L Suresh listens with rapt attention…

Dear M,
This is just not fair! The whole team has just been mothered down under by the Aussies and I’m the one accused of rape. Though several statements have been issued that the Pakistani cricketer involved happens to be a ‘fast-bowling all-rounder’, the media is still keen on tarnishing my name. My question is this – do I feel happy about being labelled as an all-rounder or do I get object to being accused of rape?

Shoaib “I am the fastest” Akthar

Mandira says:

Dear Shoaib,
What you must remember at all times is that you aren’t called the Rawalpindi Express because you come on to women pretty fast. What you need to do is be the fastest on the field, and I don’t mean the fastest to get injured. And just because your figures aren’t too impressive, you shouldn’t go after babes whose figures are. If you’re being mistaken for a “fast-bowling all-rounder”, don’t bother. Since you’re never fit to both bat and bowl in the same match, the misconception will soon fade away. Just make sure you don’t. Remember, “Life’s a pitch, and then you get hit for a six over backward point.”

Dear M,
Right through the 80s, the Windies were regularly whipping the Queen’s boys. And no one had any problems then. Now, when I take them to task, all hell breaks loose. All I did was fine Vaughan 5,500 pounds and I’m now accused of throwing my weight around. Listen, for all these years, I’ve been waiting for a West Indian to make headlines. Since that didn’t happen, I thought it’s time I did the rescue act, like in the good ol’ times. Besides, I’m sick and tired of hearing that every second team is taking the ‘wind’ out of the Windies. What do I do?

Clive ‘Brit Basher’ Lloyd

Mandira says:

Hey Supercat,
You know how it is with England. When it rains, it pours. But the root of the problem lies in India. Remember the time when you fined Sourav for poor run-rate? He appealed and you were overruled. Guess you forgot that a man who can take his shirt off to celebrate can take your pants off if you cross his way. Now everybody wants to do the same. And you aren’t the only West Indian to return to form. Just watch Steve Bucknor – he’s been consistently turning the tables on every match, without lifting a finger. So don’t worry about the team. Just remember, “There’s a difference between a (super)cat that got the cream and a (super)cat that got creamed.”

Dear M,
My batters are getting battered and my bowlers are getting bowled over by the women they meet. And those who actually come on and bowl during matches are being suspected for their bowling action on the field and for their misconduct off the field. In fact, the only place where my boys seem to be scoring is in hotel rooms. In the middle of all this, I’ve got everyone from Musharraf to Imran bhai baying for my blood. Needless to say, my form has gone for a toss. What do I do?

Inzamam“no dum in this aloo” ul-Haq

Mandira says:

Dear Inzy,
So much drama in so short a time! Hey, why don’t you write a book titled ‘Auspitalised and Austracized – Drama in Real Life’? At least, it’ll help you get rid of the tag of ‘an unimaginative captain’. Don’t take Imran too seriously. In his search for grants for the cancer hospital, the last thing he expected was Hugh Grant. Obviously, he’s peeved. As for Musharraf, just send him a DVD of Mission Kashmir. That should keep him occupied. Moreover, the problem with your team is that they are receiving instructions in English from an Englishman who was born in India, played in England and coached in South Africa. Obviously they are a confused lot. So organize a meeting between Woolmer and Miandad – that should keep both of them fighting as to who is pulling wool over whose eyes. Meanwhile, have a talk with your boys – in Urdu or Hindi if you please. And instruct them, sternly at that, to end all pillow talk and for a change, let their willow talk. As for your form, you need to lose weight to gain form. Remember, “Man who is out of shape is out of form.”

Dear M,
When they called me ‘Slow Death’, how was I to know that it wasn’t a nickname they were giving me, but a threat? Though I was unsettled, I decided against returning home, much to the disappointment of both England and South Africa. (Aleem Dar, true to his name chickened out.) I want everyone to know that I’ve refereed football matches as well in Jamaica and have received several threats. But I never thought that anyone would want to do an ‘Escobar’ on me. (Legend: Andres Escobar, a Colombian defender who shot a self-goal in the ’94 World Cup and was shot for it). The million dollar question is - Do I stick to cricket or go back to football?

Steve ‘Fearless’ Bucknor

Mandira says:

Dear Steve,
You brave man! You’ve not only dismissed the death threat, but have also decided to stay on. Of course, the cops in South Africa think there’s ‘no substance’ to the threat, but then, they might have been under the impression that they were investigating a doping scandal. My advice is, stick with cricket. Football is all about sudden death and I guess you wouldn’t fancy that either. Perhaps you could try being faster with your decisions – a West Indian quick has always been feared and the threats might just vanish! (Just as an aside, I heard that you can now swear fluently in nine languages, thanks to your vantage position from which you can hear every bowler curse. Why don’t you write to me about that?)

Dear M,
After being politically correct for over 15 years, I’ve finally committed a blunder. (And no, I’m not talking about playing the incoming delivery on to my stumps regularly.) Fact is, with the Indo-Pak series coming up, I’ve got Shoaib on my mind – so much so that I ended up shooting my mouth off like him. I’ve said that I won’t return to cricket until fully fit. Since I’ve no clue as to when I’m going to be fully fit, what do I do? More importantly, what do the 120 brands that I endorse do, if I can’t play?

Sachin “tennis elbow” Tendulkar

Mandira says:
Dear Sachin,
I started off as a successful model and have ended up with a highly successful career in cricket as an expert commentator. So all is not lost for you. You could do the converse. Anyways, in the last year, your appearances on TV have always been between overs and not during. You’ve always been the inspiration for millions of kids in the country. Except that these days, kids are saying that they want to grow up and be a model like Sachin. Of course, you can play all the cricket you want in your ads. Look at other cricketers. Their biggest boundaries in recent times, have all come in TV commercials. So forget about being fit and remember, “The only thing that has to be healthy at all times is one’s bank balance.”

Note: Since Mandira is actively researching the technology behind ‘Vertical Take-off And Landing’ aircraft, she will answer the initial question - ‘Can a plane take-off without a run-up? in future issues.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 06 Feb, 2005)

Pronounced Gill-ty

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

What would you call an Olympian who is not an Olympian? L Suresh finds out…

It’s out. And it’s official. Gerhard Rach, ex-coach of the Indian hockey team thinks the Indian Hockey Federation is a big madhouse. Gill thinks those who played in the Olympics are not Olympians. Zafar Iqbal thinks Gill’s knowledge of hockey is very poor. Gill thinks Rach’s knowledge of English is very poor. Deft passes, mighty pushes, sensational scoops… when it comes to playing the (blame) game, the Indian team needs to learn a thing or two from the super-cop and his ‘Police Academy – Part D-uh’ bunch of administrators.

Of course, after having played 36 matches against the world’s top five countries in 2004 and having won just four of them, anybody can teach the team to play. (Incidentally, speculations are abound that the Indian team’s coming-apart-at-the-seams look and their habit of winning just one out of every nine matches they play gave rise to the adage, ‘a stitch in time saves nine’, but since the authenticity of this source can never be proved, we shall let this one pass.) Things ultimately reached a point where French captain Antoine Moreau remarked that they faced stiffer resistance from Indian Airlines. (Sigh, millions of Indians will agree to that.)

But the question on everybody’s mind is – If Gill thinks those who played in the Olympics are not Olympians, then what would you call an Olympian who is not an Olympian? In true Rashomon style, there were four versions of the answer.

Solutions you don’t have to Rach your brains for (Rach’s version)
Simple, drop all the Olympians from the team. So the team participating in the Olympics will not have any Olympians! I did just that – and they dropped me as coach.

Verdict: Stop answering stupid questions and watch out for your backside. With Gill’s support, I was breathing freely. Now, halfway across the world to Egypt, I feel like a fish out of water.

The Extraordinary League of Ordinary Gentlemen (IHF’s version)
If Gill has announced that those who played in the Olympics are not Olympians, we (Indian Hockey Federation) obviously cannot do a reverse flick on the issue. So we arrived at a simple solution – if you cannot convince, confuse. Thus came about the Premier Hockey League (PHL), which divides the stick-wielding fraternity of the country into two tiers, creatively labeled Tier I and Tier II. In all there would be 10 teams, with 13 foreign players (a number arrived at after some mind-numbing calculations) spread across five teams in Tier I - Hyderabad Sultans, Bangalore Hi-Fliers, Sher-e-Jallandhar, Maratha Warriors and Chennai Veerans.

Verdict: If Gill says they are not Olympians, they are NOT Olympians. They could be (take-your-pick) Chennai Veerans, Hyderabad Sultans or Maratha Warriors, but not Olympians.

Lights, camera, ach-tung! (A senior official’s version)
This one is straight out of a movie set. And a German one at that! The story starts in 1936 and stars the Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler surrounded by his yes-yes men, Messrs. Hermann Goering, Joseph Goebbels and Joachim Ribbentrop. They try to get the hockey wizard Dhyan Chand to defect and join them in their bunkers. Obviously he thought they were bonkers and decided to give it a miss. (Being trapped between the Brits in his motherland and the Germans in their fatherland was no laughing matter, though it did remind the great man of Tom and Jerry. The whole world watched in suspended animation as he led India to an 8-1 victory.) Years rolled by. The world saw the third Reich fall. They saw the Berlin Wall fall. With Gerhard Rach, they saw a German shepherd the Indian team into various tournaments and they saw the standards of Indian hockey fall.

Verdict: Olympian or not, anyone who refuses the German hand goes straight to the squad – the firing squad, that is.

Sentenced by the Gill-otine (Gill’s version)
Be specific. And don’t twist my quotes conveniently so that you can write pieces on them. Anyways, it depends on which Olympics you are talking about. If it is before 1966, they are not Olympians – they are winners. If it’s after 1966, they’re a bunch of losers. If it’s 1980, they are just people with vested interests. And since our performance has been so pathetic after ’80, they don’t deserve to be called Olympians - just call them ‘Limpians’.

Verdict: Hockey players should possess superb reflexes. As soon as an official blows the whistle on the team, they should be the first off the chopping block. And if they can’t, sigh, it doesn’t matter what you call them.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 23 Jan, 2005)

Serials - Going Mega on Management

(Image courtesy: Corbis)

Question time. Will Ravi ever turn over a new leaf? Will Abhi’s husband come back to her? Will Shanthi’s husband pardon her and take her back? Will Maria take revenge on all those who wronged her? And for those who have not been rudely CAS-treated, here are some more from the north of the Vindhyas. Will Tulsi’s son rise like a phoenix and come back from the ashes to push TRPs, just as her husband did? Will Kusum’s lifestory fast-forward by another twenty years? Will Malini Iyer ever start getting serious about being funny? Will Karisma live up to its name and perform the miracle that will change the viewer’s destiny?

What! Don’t know the answers? Clueless? You can’t be serious! Are you really trying to imply that you don’t (fashionably) watch mega serials (pronounced mehaa serials)? And does that mean that you don’t take in the maha gyaan (pronounced magaa gyaan) that they have to offer?
Okay, brace yourself for some bad news. You are missing out on some of management’s most valuable lessons that would otherwise require you slog your backside off for a year, appear for CAT, hope to God that the paper/result/your pen doesn’t leak, get aggro and chew everybody else up in the Group Discussion, fib your way through the personal interview, get your Dad to shell out a few lakhs and finally hear the Prof say the same thing – if you go to class, that is. Why take the stairs when you can take the elevator, as Vinod Kambli would rue on hindsight (said at a different time, place and context).

Every 30 minutes, pearls of management wisdom are being beamed into your living room and if you aren’t savvy enough to take advantage of them, well, even Arindham Choudhary and his ‘Rok Sake To Rok Lo’ (Hindi for ‘Stop your chicken before they hatch’) cannot save you.

So for those of you who are willing to come clean about not watching soap, here’s a refreshing thought. A crash course on all that they don’t teach you at b-school (and never will). Alternately, think of it as ‘everything you are going to learn about management, but didn’t know what-the-heck for.’

To start with, stop referring to mega serials as that ‘dumb soap’. That’s an oxymoron. (which makes it worse). Today, soaps have defined a new standard of time that has gained more prominence than IST (at least they’re taken more seriously). “Ennanga, will you be back before Metti Oli?” “Illa ma, MD is coming tomaarow. But I’ll be back before Annamalai gets over. Anyway, tell me what happens, vokay?”

Secondly, stop referring to the TV as the idiot box. Think of it as a Knowledge Leveraging Programming Device (KLPD). (Usage: “My girlfriend and I decided to watch a Saturday night programme on DD, and machaan, it was complete KLPD.”)

No more will the hapless housewife (Management Terminology: Key Target Audience) be denigrated for watching mindless stuff all day. Saas-bahu scraps will be a vivid demonstration of Conflict Resolution (or the lack of it). Crying into one’s pallu or dupatta when watching an episode will be considered part of Stress Management Sessions (SMS). (Note: Not to be confused with the SMS found in ticker tapes during these soaps that say “What is the name of the character who told her neighbour that her friend’s cousin had eloped with the milkman? SMS your answers to 2737 and win…”)

Right then, let’s start with minding our Ps…

The 4Ps of serials

Pareto Principle
If not for the golden 80:20 rule, there would be no serials. In any serial, 80% of the time is spent in telling 20% of the story. So what happens in the time left? Long shots, music, bus journeys… which takes us to Parkinson’s Law.

Parkinson’s Law
Every storyline, every scene and every shot can expand to fill time. Observe a desperate husband rush his wife to the hospital and this law becomes self-explanatory. Of course, the wife looks like she’s going to deliver the next minute, the hospital is the one farthest from where they live and they r-u-s-h to the other end of the world across three tension-filled episodes.

Peter’s Principle
Every serial rises to its level of incompetency after which the TRP ratings plummet down, a few characters are bumped off and the director brings the curtains down rather hastily, making you wonder what the 789-episode build-up was all about.

Paradigm Shift
If the general perception is that a serial is bad, then make it worse. That way, you are ‘creating a shift in the general accepted opinion’ – otherwise known as the ‘Paradigm Shift’. Bringing back a character who died 50 episodes ago, introducing a new character who is in no way related to the serial and shifting focus to a new family in another part of the world for no reason at all are all tried and tested ways of inducing a Paradigm Shift.

Contingency Theory
After 350 episodes, the chicken-hearted husband suddenly gets into overdrive, decides to cross the road and get aggro with his bossy wife. Suddenly fate provides a twist in the tale as the actor playing the role gets snapped up in some plum ‘character’ roles in feature films. What happens next? Depending on the nature and condition of the situation, he is either made to have a heart-attack, is sent abroad or is replaced with another actor who would play his role. And that, in moments of desperation (for the director), is Contingency Theory.

Critical Path Method (CPM)
If there are only ‘n’ number of ways in which a story can evolve, then the Critical Path that the story can take is the one that is the longest and touches the maximum number of transition points, involving the maximum number of characters that can be incorporated into the storyline on a weekly basis.

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs
People’s needs generally have a hierachy by which they get satisfied and serials help them achieve it. Examples: Psychological need: When you need a shrink desperately because of watching too many serials. Safety need: When you need to be straitjacketed before every episode. Social need: Love thy neighbours. They could fill you in on all the episodes you miss out.

Aggregate Scheduling
This typically happens when they shoot it faster than we can see it. So there are many episodes left over at the end of each week. So most channels resort to what is popularly known as Aggregate Scheduling – in other words, whopping one-hour telecasts of the aggregate on special occasions - Diwali, New Year, Pongal, your birthday and my anniversary.

Resistance to Change
A converse of the Paradigm Shift theory, this is all about beating the audience down when they show any resistance to change – at least the kind the channel wants. Resistance to change is overcome by the ‘carrot-and-stick’ principle. Carrot – telecast the serial twice a day and numb them into submission. Stick – push the serial well past 11 in the night. “C’mon baby, you ain’t getting it until you’re beggin’ for it.” Alternating between these two normally works. Check your telecast timings for more details.

Forward Integration
The characters have reached a standoff. The serial has hit a plateau (after the second episode). 173 characters have all been juggled, have wreaked havoc in one another’s lives, alternately played the hunter and the hunted, died and come back again. So what next? This is easily solved through forward integration - typically the serial races ahead into the future, to the third generation of grandsons and granddaughters played by the same actors who are playing the current generation. And then just as you are coming to terms with what’s going on, the characters have flashbacks, typically in black and white, as dictated by the grammar of serial-making. And that forms the corollary for a concept that’s equally popular – Backward Integration.

Zone of Indifference
The ultimate zone that the Key Target Audience (housewife) falls into. You could call it nirvana – or the passage of the mind through 38 channels, 159 soaps, 1196 characters - and not a hint of a storyline to go with these. Also commonly observed amongst Senior Citizens who have suffered prolonged exposure to serials. There are various LEVELS within the ‘zone’ and it all depends, predictably, on the amount of TV watched. At 7.30, you could swap one Tamil channel for another and if people at home don’t realize what you have done, that’s Level 1. Level 2 occurs at around 9.30 pm, when you can switch a Tamil channel with BBC and they don’t realize the difference. Level 3 happens at around 11 in the night when you can switch off the TV and they’re still watching it.

Critical Incident Technique
Just as a picture is worth a thousand words, a situation is worth a thousand episodes. This situation generally stems from one incident most critical to the serial – such as the one where the sister-in-law hides the fact that the husband had called a few minutes back to say that he was running away with another woman. The poor wife who had no knowledge of this waits for thirty-five years before she finds out the truth – that he has actually run away with another man. (Note: There are two critical incidents in this storyline – the sister-in-law not passing on a critical message and the final moment of truth.) Once the Critical Incident is worked out, the Technique is all about flogging it to death ever after.

Operations Research
The path to successful serials is paved with numerous heart attacks, kidney failures, cancer, accidents, transplants, implants and an occasional childbirth. With the same actor playing the same role in different serials, directors are trying hard to make a difference. And that’s how Operations Research was born. A lot of work goes into how each medical condition can be made to sound different from others. (Of course, the benchmark will always be lymphocircoma of the intestine.) At the end of all this Research comes an impending, all-important Operation. Will the character survive it? Sorry, you’ve got to wait a while, like 85 episodes, to find out.

One more thing – all those contests that come along with serials? They not only help you win prizes, but also test your understanding of management. Winning 25 of those could put you in line for the Bumper Prize – a convocation where you could be presented with an M.S. (Master of Serials) in Management.

Happy learning!

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement in a shorter version as Serial Strategies on 09 Jan, 2005)