monday mayhem: Even I Worry About Harry

Okay, looks like India is ACTUALLY winning a Test match under Rahul Dravid. Not that it would subtract any bit from my irritation for men who are christened rahul, or surnamed dravid, or dubbed The Wall by fanatic fans, or all of them put together.
And now that I have made my link with Team India (that phrase calls for a toast from the galleria of cricket reporters) clear, I would better push towards newer territories. For, his 70-odd at Nottingham notwithstanding, I still feel Sourav Ganguly has lost the jigar and jasba for a fighting knock. Mistah, pls refer to earlier blog).
Newer territory of course means Harry Potter. No, I haven't become an overnight expert on Harry, or Potter, or JK, or Rowling. So here's a forward from a blog that landed on mailbox sometime late Sunday night; a time Subject was acutely busy getting peekay tight: “I read an article about this couple that will be leaving their wedding reception and going straight to the bookstore to get their copy of Harry Potter. Now, I'm no expert or anything, but I'm pretty sure that this is not what you're supposed to be doing on your wedding night."
Confession time: Saw this woman the other day. Could have fallen in love. Almost did. Right away. Then I saw a thick fat copy of Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows in (under?) her arm. And suddenly, her armpits began smelling, and she seemed a bit too loony to be walking around free for the safety of loonier creatures, and completely dys-political Me began colour-coding: Was she an underground, below-the-belt, illicit communist, tom-tomming a manifesto for the masses?
And just as suddenly I lost interest. So, miss in pink salwar suit carrying Potter copy tight under arms, if you happen to ever travel through and across this station on blogosphere, you know how Harry helps: It (He?) saved you, honey.

In praise of the Lord in a lost ring

It's sad. But it looks truer with every passing inning: Sourav Ganguly's days as a top-flight cricketer are over. From a man who loves the big occasion and the spotlight on every move he makes, Sourav is playing more like a belly dancer attempting jazz or kathak. Result: little foot movement. And even little jazz in the way he wields the willow. Bowled for 36 in first outing. Caught doing nothing with his front leg in the second, on 40.
The big-natch, big-occasion, big-century player fighting for fifties.
And don't give me the claptrap about pressure or tension. Sourav is one man born to fight it. You only have to recall Lord's 1996. Or the recent South Africa series, his third comeback (sorry, no inclination to remember inane statistics). He was sure-footed, even cocky then. He is pussy-footing, even rocky now.
Strange how the likes of Gavaskar and co-commentators think he's playing well, even in a gritty sorta way. Really? Roobish, as Boycott would have said about any player other than his 'prince'. Chancy, streaky shots punctuated with some gems on the off-side. That's Ganguly for you. Circa 2007.
It's been a decade and a year more, Dada. And Lord's of those innings is looking more like the sepia-tinted image from the album of bell-bottomed youth that granddads look at. For the first time in a decade, I feel it is time...

Break-in news: Tai is Prez. Break-out news: Amma, Didi, Auntie follow

They are going to count it today, eight or nine-odd lakh votes, and give us our next president. The question not bothering the TV channel panels is: Does the president represent only elected MPs and MLAs? Or is she (if projections about Pratibha-tai is to be taken on face value) President of the Republic of India?
Then why the people (note: I checked with Barkha Dutt about copyright for the phrase) have no role to play in electing her? Just because a coterie of Left/Congress/other netas thought tai is the best face for the Republic?
Without getting into positives, negatives and split infinitives of presidential elections, Subject here has a better suggestion: Make the office a yearly musical chair. Tai can stay for a year, and then make way for Sheila Dikshit, Mamata Banerjee, Jayalalithaa, and Jaya Bachchan.
Here's why:
1.We would be too bored with tai's inane/stupid/irritating/slanderous/libelous nonsenses in a year flat.
2. If we have a vice-president from the “minority community” there would be little need for tai, who got the nod, to believe Prakash Karat and comrades, primarily for her “secular credentials”.

3.There would be little novelty value attached to, or with, her pallu after a while.

SHEILA DIKSHIT
There's no possible way – either this-wordly or that-worldly – she can draw an ace and be the Delhi CM again. If not BJP, Congress's own Ram Babu Guptas, Jagdish Tytlers, Sajjan Kumars and Ajay Makens would trump her anyway.
* Delhiites, too, would get relief from Sheila brand of politics. As for the media, no need to write headlines on successive days: “Bluelines would be phased out”; “Bluelines are definitely going to be phased out”; “Bluelines have to go”. C'mon auntie, rephrasing till only a certain point can be labelled political chicanery. beyond that, there's a word for its: 24-carat nonsense. So shut up, and bore us with better ones: presidential speeches.

MAMATA BANERJEE
Ratan Tata apart, the comrades would give their vote for her. And given the complexity of UPA politics she would be, as The Telegraph ad slogan goes in Calcutta, “unputdownable”.
The Rashtrapati Bhavan would liven up after Pratibha tai and Sheila auntie. Antics, after all, have their own value in the boredom of politics (for the uninitiated: check with Kalam's hair stylist).

JAYALALITHAA
Everything will come closer home. Any debates over, say, Indo-US nuclear deals, Mission Mars, friendly ties with Papua New Guinea and Peru, and you can be sure who to blame: Karunanidhi. Ab Chennai dur nehin (now say that in Tamil.)
On second thoughts, she may re-christen Rashtrapati Bhavan the MGR Estate, which may not augur well for successors. In that case, I withdraw her from my list. Anyone else interested?

JAYA BACHCHAN
“Amit-ji” will be seen accompanying Mrs on foreign trips. What this means is simple: less Amitabh films (now say ya-hoo in a baritone).

And, I rest my case. Hello tai!

good journalism = bad business = worse discussion (IS EXPRESS LISTENING?)

okay, indian express has just released its list of award winners for "excellence" in journalism. I have no comments on the entries, winners or the award as such// Of course, we all wonder how come so many of them winners are express or loksatta staffers, but that's for another rainy day. (It's sultry nights, and sultrier morns, in Dilli at present, so we rest those questions for some other time).
But here's the joke of the 'ceremony' (all awards are ceremonies, right?): a panel discussion on “Is good journalism bad business”. Hello, haven't I heard that one before (and I am not talking about Express having run it, or something along similar lines, after last year's awards). The idea (if it can still be called one) is so cliched that I wish they had arranged cocktail alongside (hey, if they could organise the damn thing at the Taj they might as well have spent some money on things other than coffee). All for the poor patients (sorry journalists) who were unlucky enough to be present.
I mean, how can u listen to the likes of rajdeep sardesai, shekhar gupta, barkha dutt, n ram, and so forth hold forth on such inanities in life? Arent there better things to do in life? Aren't there better ways to kill time?
I suggest a special award be given to all those who survived the whole discussion.
Is good journalism bad business. Jeez, aren't good journalists supposed to say “shit” when they see human excreta coming out of anyplace other than the posterior any more?