HISTORY RE-WRITTEN BY A GENIUS ‘Such-In’ form~ Sachin Tendulkar!

24th February 2010, a day, when cricket history was re written. A Golden Day for cricket, not only for Indian fans, but for cricket fans all across the world.

Such was the impact of the occasion that offices had turned into playgrounds as even Bosses were no more Bosses as they came out of their cabins, joining the mob of employees, to have a look at the LCD with fingers crossed, awaiting that magical moment. It has been rightly said, he is the man who can stop time in India!

And there it was. Playing his heart out once again for his country, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar reached the magical landmark of 200 runs in ODI matches and one could hear people cheering even from their graveyards! It’s an achievement which was truly deserved by the Genius master! The crowd at the Captain Roop Singh Stadium went gaga, as they witnessed the historic moment!

The Face book walls were coloured with unlimited words of praise for the master blaster! The love and inspiring status messages were replaced with self-written quotes for Tendulkar. Not to forget the News Channels had come up with some ‘Great Tendulkar Stories’ which were much better than the self made sensational ones’.

May 21, 1997, (Chennai, India), playing against India, Saeed Anwar of Pakistan scored 194 runs off 146 balls, which had 22 boundaries and 5 sixes, breaking the record of 189 by Vivian Richards.

This remained a world record for 12 years.

16 Aug 2009, (Bulawayo, Zimbabwe), playing against Bangladesh, Charles Coventry of Zimbabwe equaled Anwar’s record when he scored 194* off 156 balls with 16 boundaries and 7 sixes.

24th Feb, 2010, (Gwalior, India), was a day when Tendulkar not only surpassed the highest score, but also became the first batsman ever to score a double century in ODI matches.

Scoring 200* runs off just 147 delivers which had 25 boundaries and 3 sixes, the master blaster entertained the crowd, and the spectators at the Captain Roop Singh Stadium were truly blessed , as they witnessed his innings LIVE. Tendulkar also became the world’s first batsman to have scored 25 boundaries in an innings in ODI matches.

He batted throughout the Indian innings, had a bit of cramp after he reached 150, yet he didn’t call for a runner. When India came to bowl, the master was up for fielding from the very first ball. What else should we say about his commitment towards the game?

Just a day before on 23rd February 1988, Tendulkar along with his mate Vinod Kambli had scored a famous school partnership record of 664 runs for their school Sharadashra. It has to be a special day for him. It is amazing to feel the way he handles the enormous pressure of millions of fans.

Ravi Shastri very rightly described him as “The Superman of India.” He is Sachin, who is ‘Such-in’ incredible form that the 100 century milestone seems to be even closer, with every match he is playing. We all bow to you master blaster! We all should consider ourselves to be truly blessed as we are born in the era of Sachin 'Almighty' Tendulkar!

वो शख्स

जो होना था वो एक एक कर होता चला गया
वो गुजरे हुए कल पर रोता चला गया...

कुछ अजनबी आते रहे, उसकी ज़िन्दगी में
वो सबको इक धागे में पिरोता चला गया...

हर इन्सान में दरिंदगी के कुछ धब्बे मौजूद थे
वो उन धब्बों को इत्तेफाक समझ धोता चला गया...

दोस्तों की एक पूरी फ़ौज खड़ी की थी उसने
वो एक एक करके उन सबको खोता चला गया...

दूसरों से उम्मीद रखना ही उसका सबसे बड़ा गुनाह था
वो इस उम्मीद के बोझ को ढोता चला गया

सब अपने में मगन थे, उसकी हालत से बेपरवाह
वो जाने कब ख़ामोशी में सोता चला गया...

जो होना था वो एक एक कर होता चला गया
वो गुजरे हुए कल पर रोता चला गया...

It’s not just a Book…

September 5, 2009 (2:17pm) - I received a message on Facebook from Aroosa Masroor 

“Hello Mr. Srivastava, this is Aroosa from Dawn.com Karachi (Pakistan). One of our colleagues and a Senior Journalist Asif Noorani wants your permission to use a comment on your blog - Instablogs - about Shahid Afridi. He is working on a book that is due to be published soon. Can you kindly contact him at (email id) at your earliest? Will appreciate your help in this regard. Thanks.” I read the mail again as my Facebook inbox wasn’t used to such meaningful mails. 

This one seemed to have too much info and I read it just after having lunch in my office. The drowsiness instantly disappeared as I read the mail again. Mr Srivastava, Aroosa, Dawn, Pakistan, Asif Noorani, Instablogs were the keywords I noticed. And I read the mail again! Senior Journalist Mr. Asif Noorani wants my PERMISSION to publish one of my articles in his book? Was someone kidding with me on Teachers Day? I immediately searched for Asif Noorani on Google and got a link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asif_Noorani which made me realise about Mr. Noorani’s personality. 

Without wasting a minute, I mailed him asking for further details. He mailed me back saying he liked my article which was published on Instablogs (which I wrote for free) and was willing to use it in his soon-to-be-published book. Some of the other major contributors in the book would be legendary Pakistani cricketers Zaheer Abbas, Wasim Akram and some senior cricket writers. After seeking the permission of Instablogs' editor, Mr. Noorani was free to use my article in his book. 

Way back in 2010, it was nothing less than a dream for me. I was supposed to be published in a book - whose author was a renowned writer from Pakistan - who, out of the millions of articles available on the Internet, chose mine for his book. I told this to my parents, sister and they thought I was kidding (nobody takes me seriously as you all know). I then had to show them the emails I exchanged with Mr. Noorani. Mr Noorani had promised me that he would courier me a copy of the book from Pakistan (with his signature) and since then, each and every day, I would call my masi in Faridabad (her address was the one I had mentioned to Mr. Noorani). 

One day, when I was asleep in a cab on my way to the office, my cell phone rang as I saw those 3 golden words “Shanno Mausi Calling!” My body language changed within a second and the driver stared at me as if I jumped out on the DND flyover! “Hello Suyash,” she said. “Namaste Shanno Mausi,” was my reply. Now, I didn’t ask her this time if the book had arrived and I waited for her response. “How are you?” she asked. “I am good,” I responded. Short questions were followed by short answers and while I thought it was one of those regular calls, she said, “Ek courier aaya hai Pakistan sey..." Yesssssssssssssssss! Yessssssssssssss!! I knew it was THE gift from Pakistan! The way I screamed, woke up the passengers snoring on the back seats. They were soon asleep thinking I was a maniac. The poor driver could not decipher what was wrong with me. “It’s the book Shanno Mausi, the book from Mr. Noorani I told you?”, “Achha??? Wahi book hai kya?? Ruko dekhte hain,” she said as she unpacked it. “Arey beta 3rd page par he tumhara naam chhapa hai! Wasim Akram, Zaheer Abbas ka bhi naam hai. It’s a big achievement Suyash beta! Naam roshan kar diya tumne!” 

I rarely get speechless, but it had to be one of those rare beautiful moments. My hands were shivering when I held the book. It was no less than a Man of the Match award for me. I imagined how a batsman feels after receiving his first trophy. Due to the busy schedule in Delhi, I wasn’t able to play cricket, so I decided to write cricket-related articles, as, by doing so, I felt connected with the game. Even though those articles were published for free, the satisfaction I derived by reading them, can’t be achieved through money or described in words. 

I had never thought that a writer from Pakistan would someday award my love for the game in a memorable manner. That's the magic of blogging I think.

'Boom Boom Afridi' reminds me of all those days when I used to play gully cricket with my friends. It reminds me of all those days when I cried after India lost a match or got upset after Tendulkar got out in the nervous nineties. This achievement is dedicated to my parents, my sister - who have always encouraged my passion for the gentleman's game. I would thank all my buddies who have made cricket so special to me. Thanks to all those, who understand what cricket means to me. Last and not least, I will always be indebted to Mr. Nooraani, for giving an aspiring sports journalist's article, a memorable space in his wonderful book. ‘Boom- Boom Afridi’ is indeed very special for me. It doesn’t include just one of my articles, it has a journey, has my love for the game since my childhood days. It’s not just a book…

SELF-'MAID' DESTRUCTION

A long way back when I was in 5th standard, my computer teacher had introduced me to the word Intranet. When workstations are connected within a particular building (school, office) for sharing certain information, the network is called intranet. Now with the better technology there have been certain substitutes for Intranet which are cheap as well. But then nothing is cheap enough for women who have the habit of purchasing a product below its actual cost (as they can’t get it for free) until and unless the shopkeeper is down with tears! For them I guess it was very easy to generate an Intranet for their apartments, colonies which are very easily accessible as well ~ MAIDS! Now stop imagining Kantaben from Kal Ho Na Ho…as there are thousands of them. These maids are smart enough to earn in form of cash, delicious food, clothes just by gossiping with various housewives about various housewives in the best innovative way possible.


“Mrs. Khanna wore that pink sari thrice this month!! Mrs. Dixit had a long fight with her husband today!! Mrs. Sinha is planning to buy a new car. I saw Mrs. Mehta’s daughter roaming around with the boy who lives in flat number 68. One day I also saw her with Mrs. Desai’s son, the one who has a good height I had told u ?” These are statements which might be true but generally they are ‘Maid Made’. A maid without gossips in her kitty would remain jobless no matter how good a cook or a baby sitter she is and a maid who is better in cooking gossips as compared to food will keep earning even if the recession lasts for the next 100 years!

The point to observe is the adjustment and the tone between the housewives and these maids. The maids are well aware of their Market Value and that’s the reason why they never arrive on time and depart before time. During their working hours it’s difficult to differentiate as to who is working for whom. In the absence of these maids, the housewives vomit words full with venom (obviously to their husbands) “Enough is enough! She is late again! Have you noticed her body language? Am I her servant! She takes leaves on her own! She knew that there was more to do today that’s why @$%#$%# is late! Who the hell does she think she is? She so rude all the time! And you…you never even utter a word? Aren’t you supposed to take my side? Are you listening? Ohk! Let her come today! I’ll show you who I am and I will kill that Maharani today!” Husbands have lately understood the proper use of both the ears (entry and exit of words). This art has made them happier for sure.

And there she comes. Silence rules all over the house. The only question that is put to the maid is “Why are you late?” That’s the only time the owner of the house speaks. As then the Intranet is activated and she activates gossips which she has in plenty, beginning from how she abused the other maid who used to work with Mrs. Khanna earlier and then how Mrs. Khanna and Mrs. Singh had a huge fight for ABC-MNO-XYZ reasons and how ill mannered is Mrs. Mehta’s daughter along with all of her affairs (non existing they might be). By the time this conversation gets over housewives and maids would have become best of friends and there is no complain whatsoever. The husbands are used to this everyday so they keep themselves busy in their newspapers (now a days they get them in plenty just to show themselves more involved in some other stuff) or watching highlight of a match for the hundredth time!

These maids are responsible for care taking, cooking food, cleaning the house and the utensils. But with their superb Intranet abilities they are a disaster for any family. I mean at times the housewives blast out at their husbands just because of some problem that is caused by her maid. Let us see what happens on a ‘No-Maid’ day. No maid means more of work in kitchen for the housewives moreover no ‘Apartment Updates’ for her(this hurts a lot!). More work in the kitchen means she has to do it all alone. Doing it all alone means she has to curse someone for the maid being absent. “I am fed up of her. I will have some other maid as she thinks I can’t get a better one. She considers herself as the queen of all maids! Let her come tomorrow, I’ll show her who she is!” Nobody is listening (as the hubby is a spectator and the children are wise enough to get homeless in such hopeless situations) so now it’s the time for the hubby to listen. “Can you lower down the volume of the television!!!? Am I a dog barking here all the time!? Did you pay the electricity bills? The bulb in the next room isn’t working! Even that is my responsibility na? You allllll (the number of L’s combines her complete family) take me for granted! ”. Huff! It is deadly to imagine what kind of violence will take place if a family has such 7-8 No Maid days in a month!

The housewives need to understand that these maids will get them nothing more that Self MAID Destruction. Now in this article I have described the relation ship between a house wife and her maid. Men rarely come in the picture (where ever they have they are mere spectators). Shiney Ahuja might be an exception. We all knew him as a Self-Maid…errr Self-Made actor. I haven’t seen his maid but this incident ‘maid’ me think for which reasons could a star like him go crazy after his Maid?? The destruction which the housewives face are temporary ones but the Indian Actor will be remembered now for more of his Self-Maid destruction than his natural acting talent throughout his life! Beware of such……Kantaben’s!

MISS YOU MONTY…

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29^th July 2007. It was the worst day of my life. I was attending the funeral of my best friend with whom I had celebrated his birthday a few days ago (July 19). I still remembered his level of excitement while he talked about his preparations for Parul’s marriage. Parul, who sat next to me like a statue with tearful eyes, having lost her elder brother Monty. Both of us sat there like helpless creatures as the pyre kept burning. I kept looking at the pyre hoping he would get up all of a sudden, laugh at me and say that it was another prank he played with me. But life was no more fun.

I wiped my tears and looked at my hands. These were the same hands I was holding him with, sitting next to him in the hospital a day before. I could still feel the warmth of our relationship by holding his frozen hands. Our friendship was full of true emotions, pranks and humiliating endless arguments. He couldn’t speak a word as his mouth was covered by an oxygen mask. But we never needed words to communicate. I read numerous unspoken words in his eyes. Eyes, that had tears, pain and fear at the same time. Eyes, which were eager to capture everything, before they slept forever. An image distracted my thoughts, I saw my father standing before me who told me it was the time to leave. I thought if he had ever cried like I did in the last few days. I left the place after having a last look at the pyre; our 18-year-old friendship had turned into ashes.

Once I reached home, my mom asked me to wash my face after which she could offer me something to eat. I walked towards the wash basin as everybody looked at me like they had never before, especially the kids, whom I had always suggested not to cry. I looked at the mirror and found it to be very dirty, as if it had not been cleaned for ages. People often found it difficult to face the reality I thought. I wiped it with my hands and was amazed to see my own image. My eyes were red, as if blood had replaced my tear glands and my face resembled one of the patients I saw in the hospital a day before.

I came back to the dining table where my mom was ready with a plate of food. I tried to recall when was the last time she fed me with her hands, may be a decade ago. She remained silent as if she exactly knew I was lost in my thoughts. I often thought if there was an award for ‘timing’, all mothers would be very strong contenders for it. The best part of them is that they exactly know when to speak and when not to, as they can easily mould themselves into any situation. Mom knew that Monty wasn’t just a friend, but he meant the world to me. She was ready with a handkerchief even before tears left my eyes. She had also not eaten anything since morning. I thought of hugging her but that would have certainly made the situation worse for the kids who surrounded us.

Four-year-old Sakshu had been looking at me for quite some time now. He was known to be a chatterbox. Thus, it was a miracle to see him so quiet. The moment he saw me looking at him, he said “Bhai, I have finished my milk, now will you talk to me?” I tried smiling at him, at the same time, trying to control the tears welling up in my eyes. I looked at my mom who by now had wet eyes. She put a bite in my mouth which my throat refused to swallow. I couldn’t resist it anymore, I had burst into tears. I couldn’t find a better place than my mom’s lap to weep. My crying did spoil the atmosphere, as everybody around - mom, all kids, my grandfather, my grandmother, maternal uncle, maternal aunt couldn’t control their tears any more and the atmosphere went horrid as everybody moaned. 

I realized men do cry, and that too very badly at times. I cried like I had never before till I fell asleep.

There are times in life when one has to question if at all there is an Almighty. It was a similar phase for me. Monty was one of the purest human beings one could ever come across. I had never seen him complain about anything. He was always content with what he had and was a gem of a friend.

People kept consoling me saying “This is a part of life,” and it hardly made a difference to my state of mind.

Several individuals, who are a threat to mankind, live a happy life and a blessing to mankind like Monty had to leave the world for which reason? Can somebody explain me the logic? Nobody can, as nobody knows what he meant to me.

There are some wounds which cannot be healed by even the best doctors in the world. Monty’s departure was one of them.

‘Thousand prayers couldn’t bring him back

I know...as I have tried

Nor could a million tears

I know...as I have cried’

तन्हा सफर

बहुत दिन हो गए शायद ख़ुद को भूल चुका हूँ मैं
एक बार आइना तो लाकर दिखाता कोई

वीरान पड़ी ज़िन्दगी इक खँडहर सी गूजती है
दो चार पल खुशी के कहीं से ले आता कोई

भावनाएं तो सबके मन में बसा करती हैं
मुझे भी कभी हंसाता या रुलाता कोई

जानता हूँ ज़िन्दगी भर का साथी शायद ही मिले
पर दो पल बिना छल के साथ मेरे बिताता कोई

मैने कब कहा की मैं हमेशा सही हूँ
पर कहाँ हूँ ग़लत ये भी तो बतलाता कोई

बारिश में खेलते बच्चों को देख अक्सर दिल ये करता है
मेरे साथ भी कागज़ की कश्ती तो बनाता कोई।

करवट बदलते रिश्ते

ना यकीन मानोगे मेरी बात का इक बार में,
रिश्ते भी बिकने लगे हैं आज के बाज़ार में।

खोखले होते रिश्तों का तब मुझे पता चला,
“Make Friends” मैने पढ़ा जब एक इश्तहार में।

मेरी तन्हाई मुझे दोस्त सी लगने लगी,
अपनों से मिलने को जब लगना पड़ा कतार में।

अपनों ने ही छलनी किया है मेरे गुरूर को,
ना दिया ऐसा ज़ख्म जो आज तक तलवार ने।

अब खुदा का खौफ तक न रहा उन मुल्क को,
ढूढते हैं लाभ हित जो दोस्ती और प्यार में।

ये खबर भी जल्द छपेगी रोज़ के अखबार में,
रिश्ते रह गए हैं पीछे वक़्त की रफ़्तार में।