The other day, Sharad Pawar invited Punter, Gilly, Brad, Pigeon, and Clarkey to play gully cricket with us in our backyard near the garages in Andheri. After exchange of autographs, we invited them to a game of gully cricket. They agreed.
So we were 6 a side, and we tossed for batting / fielding. They won the toss and decided to bat first. Gilly took first strike and started looking for the stumps. We politely showed him the wall on which 3 lines were drawn by brick. "These are the stumps?? You must be crazy, mate!!". But we assured him these were the stumps. This way we didnt need to worry about french cuts, and wicket keepers, and slips, and backward point and third man, and fine leg, and leg slip and hitting the wicket keepers helmet and conceding 8 runs.... plus there were more fielders to put in catching positions this way. He tried to take guard but the hard concrete refused to give way. So we brought over a piece of red brick and drew his guard for him - Arre boss, humour them na. TP thoda toh chahiye na... He looked for the bowling wicket and we showed him the large stone that doubled as the bowling wicket. The batting crease was shown too to him. Just in case he decided he wanted to counter the spin and stand outside the crease.
Just as he was about to start batting, we decided to make things a little more easier to him. I asked the boss's son to go and explain all the rules to him. So the far wall was 2-D, if the ball bounced and went behind the wall it was 1-D, and if it went into the passage to the building it was 1-D. No running at all! easy, na? Also we drew the box line. When he saw this he asked why were cutting the already small pitch into half. We explained that as per box cricket rules (to avoid him breaking any glasses - with aerial shots yaar!), anything he hit had to bounce within that line before going anywhere. Or else he was out.
And so I bowled the first over. After the trial ball over arm, I bowled the first ball, he played down, and it came back to me. No run. He immediately came and said that Mr Chappel's tactics would not work for every ball. Thats when Punter told him that gully cricket was actually underarm. And only spin, no pace. Ofcourse there was no question of line and length so Pigeon looked quite sad. Hmm, they actually are intelligent! Just 5 mins and he understood everything. The very next ball, he hit into the ground, and it sailed into the air on the first bounce, and into the boss's sons's hands. OUT!!
Gilly didnt move though. We thought it was really bad sport of him, especially since the bat and ball was ours and he was in no position to bargain for an extra life. We were nice though and yanked the bat away from him and told him he was out. One-tuppie out, na!!!
Next in was Punter. He didnt bother taking guard, and started batting. I bowled a finger spin legspinner to him, that he played to the 2D area. Nice. I then bowled a ball at his legs, and spinned it away from him. He asked for it to be declared a wide. We didnt know what he was talking about. So we continued bowling as if we hadnt heard him. The next ball, he got really angry and hit it high into the air and it hit the 3rd floor landing before coming down and bouncing away. Ofcourse he was out too! I mean, dont they know that hitting the building full toss is out???
Then came Clarkey. Now this guy had learnt from his predecessor's idiocy, and he just pushed and prodded the next 3 balls for 1D away.
The boss's son bowled the next over, and He bowls a nice offspinner on the second bounce. And when clarkey came to play the ball, just when his bat was going to connect, the ball bounced again and hit the wicket lines. They protested that the delivery had bounced twice, but we reasoned that they had not clarified the ghasar-gundi rule before batting.. By default, shooters along the ground were allowed.
The tail did not put up too much of a fight and they were out for 23 runs.
Then we batted, and got 6 extra runs for the fast balls they threw at us. Not bowled, threw. We told them this was not softball, it was cricket and fast fulltoss was not allowed. But they wouldnt listen.
So then we hit 3 sixes. Apparently they did not know that chikki-run and box rules did not apply when you hit the ball full toss into the next compound. Then it was 6. The art of placing the ball without hitting the building or the cars earned you a 6.
Post match press conference:
Us: Ofcourse we won because we were the better team and we used the rules and conditions better. All the guys were disappointed because they thought Australia would kick their ass at this competition. I mean if you lose by a hundred runs to Dharavi 6 and to Bhoiwada, then i suppose expecting to win against Australia is too much.
Them: This is a new innovation to cricket and we will take a few years to adapt to this. Im sure we will win the major world championship in about 5-6 years. We will start grooming young gully cricketers immediately. I will speak with our Selection Panel to start a grassroots gully cricket program to help nurture the best talent. We will build awkward buildings, park cars indiscriminately, provide awful training facilities, forget about proper cricket gear, and make sure there are no other places to practice except your own building compound.
ICC: Im sure that they will not get invited for the next All-India night box cricket tournament to be held in our colony. About 10 teams from Andheri are participating but we wont call them. Australia are a young team at gully cricket and we dont want them to compete without gaining in confidence. The teams we will invite are Kenya, Somalia, Central America, Brazil, Thailand, Malaysia, and Malegaon.
utekkare,
pranay
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The Boss's Son
And today I will introduce you to the boss's son.
He lives in an apartment, but can do nothing by himself. This is because he lives with his parents and has been pampered silly. Maids to wait on him hand and foot; Drivers to chauffeur him around; Gardeners to keep the roses in bloom; Computers, and Television Sets, and Cupboards, and a surfeit of laptops, and gadgets, and soft warm beds, and even a lovable adorable golden retriever. With no maintenance whatsoever.
The boss's son can wake up at almost any time he likes. Consequently he can sleep at any time he likes. He has a gym membership he does not use. He stocks Fruit juice in the refrigerator, but he doesnt drink juice. He keeps eggs and cereal and milk, and butter and cheese, and ham, but he will have none of it if it was not cooked for him.
The boss's son does not need to work. All he needs to do is show up to office in a chauffer-driven car, stride lazily into his cabin, and appear engrossed in front of his expensive laptop screen. Coffee runs cold and water warms up while he concentrates on writing inane emails to people across the globe, while trying to look busy.
The boss's son likes to party. He loves to go out to clubs, pubs, discos, restaurants, coffee houses, dinner parties, and he is always planning to meet with these gorgeous and intelligent women. Ofcourse they never show up and he is always going out alone. But he never fails to get drunk.
The boss's son has had an excellent education. The best. But you would never know that from the language he employs. Some of the crappiest.
The boss's son travels abroad, and sometimes when he is in a good mood he will let me tag along. He stays at expensive hotels, and uses the taxi to get everywhere. He is too snooty to rent a car and spends money on the most idiotic merchandise.
And The boss's son will never get fired though. That's my job.
utekkare,
Pranay
He lives in an apartment, but can do nothing by himself. This is because he lives with his parents and has been pampered silly. Maids to wait on him hand and foot; Drivers to chauffeur him around; Gardeners to keep the roses in bloom; Computers, and Television Sets, and Cupboards, and a surfeit of laptops, and gadgets, and soft warm beds, and even a lovable adorable golden retriever. With no maintenance whatsoever.
The boss's son can wake up at almost any time he likes. Consequently he can sleep at any time he likes. He has a gym membership he does not use. He stocks Fruit juice in the refrigerator, but he doesnt drink juice. He keeps eggs and cereal and milk, and butter and cheese, and ham, but he will have none of it if it was not cooked for him.
The boss's son does not need to work. All he needs to do is show up to office in a chauffer-driven car, stride lazily into his cabin, and appear engrossed in front of his expensive laptop screen. Coffee runs cold and water warms up while he concentrates on writing inane emails to people across the globe, while trying to look busy.
The boss's son likes to party. He loves to go out to clubs, pubs, discos, restaurants, coffee houses, dinner parties, and he is always planning to meet with these gorgeous and intelligent women. Ofcourse they never show up and he is always going out alone. But he never fails to get drunk.
The boss's son has had an excellent education. The best. But you would never know that from the language he employs. Some of the crappiest.
The boss's son travels abroad, and sometimes when he is in a good mood he will let me tag along. He stays at expensive hotels, and uses the taxi to get everywhere. He is too snooty to rent a car and spends money on the most idiotic merchandise.
And The boss's son will never get fired though. That's my job.
utekkare,
Pranay
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The first date
And today I received THE phone call. She decided she would go out to dinner with me.
And since it was my first date in months, I thought I would give it my best shot. So I went out and bought an expensive shirt. And trousers to go with it. And since you never know where these evenings end up, I decided to buy new underwear. And that new Bvlgari parfum.
And I asked the driver to stay back late. For the first time in months, I decided I would go home from office at 7.30 - The boss's son wasn't too happy about it (I dont remember when he last had a date), but I didnt care. For once.
And since I did not want my ubiquitous BO to rear it's ugly head, I scrubbed myself extra hard, with the scrubber. For once.
And I shampoo-ed and conditioned my hair with the special Special Fragile Hair Formula, so I wouldnt lose more hair that day. And I air-dryed my hair and smoothed over the patches that recede, and I brushed my hair softly, and set it so I would look cooler than I was. So I could make a good impression. For once.
And I used the specially purchased Scope Mouthwash (TM), and I packed my pocket full of Chlor mints, and hoped that she would not notice me popping a chlormint at regular intervals. And more optimistically, that my halitosis would stay away for 5 hours. For once.
And I wore my special shirt, and I sucked in my tummy, and hoped that it wouldnt sag that night. And I wore my trousers, and wore my lucky belt. And buckled it a little loosely. In case the dinner was good. And if I overate. Just in case.
And then, I borrowed 2000 bucks from my mother, so I would not have to think twice about going to a club if dinner went well, or to offer her an expensive drink, or if she wanted to have a sumptious dinner followed by a sinful dessert. And I checked on my Emergency funds to ensure I had enough.
And then I left. I reached the place we were supposed to meet, and she suggested we go to a Seafood Restaurant that just happened to be in a 5 star hotel.
And just as the conversation was warming up, and I felt we were getting somewhere, and maybe this might just be the first of many more dates, it ended.
It happened just after we ordered the drinks. I ordered a beer, and she ordered a Mojito. And then, as we were making general conversation, the maitre d' came up and enquired if we might want to order. And innocently enough my date asked about the specials.
And the maitre d' said," There's a decent sized lobster you might want to order tonight, ma'am."
And as my date nodded her head vigorously, I sadly looked into my empty plate and smiled.
If only they didnt order the lobster. For once.
utekkare,
pranay
And since it was my first date in months, I thought I would give it my best shot. So I went out and bought an expensive shirt. And trousers to go with it. And since you never know where these evenings end up, I decided to buy new underwear. And that new Bvlgari parfum.
And I asked the driver to stay back late. For the first time in months, I decided I would go home from office at 7.30 - The boss's son wasn't too happy about it (I dont remember when he last had a date), but I didnt care. For once.
And since I did not want my ubiquitous BO to rear it's ugly head, I scrubbed myself extra hard, with the scrubber. For once.
And I shampoo-ed and conditioned my hair with the special Special Fragile Hair Formula, so I wouldnt lose more hair that day. And I air-dryed my hair and smoothed over the patches that recede, and I brushed my hair softly, and set it so I would look cooler than I was. So I could make a good impression. For once.
And I used the specially purchased Scope Mouthwash (TM), and I packed my pocket full of Chlor mints, and hoped that she would not notice me popping a chlormint at regular intervals. And more optimistically, that my halitosis would stay away for 5 hours. For once.
And I wore my special shirt, and I sucked in my tummy, and hoped that it wouldnt sag that night. And I wore my trousers, and wore my lucky belt. And buckled it a little loosely. In case the dinner was good. And if I overate. Just in case.
And then, I borrowed 2000 bucks from my mother, so I would not have to think twice about going to a club if dinner went well, or to offer her an expensive drink, or if she wanted to have a sumptious dinner followed by a sinful dessert. And I checked on my Emergency funds to ensure I had enough.
And then I left. I reached the place we were supposed to meet, and she suggested we go to a Seafood Restaurant that just happened to be in a 5 star hotel.
And just as the conversation was warming up, and I felt we were getting somewhere, and maybe this might just be the first of many more dates, it ended.
It happened just after we ordered the drinks. I ordered a beer, and she ordered a Mojito. And then, as we were making general conversation, the maitre d' came up and enquired if we might want to order. And innocently enough my date asked about the specials.
And the maitre d' said," There's a decent sized lobster you might want to order tonight, ma'am."
And as my date nodded her head vigorously, I sadly looked into my empty plate and smiled.
If only they didnt order the lobster. For once.
utekkare,
pranay
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