There is a Great Wand in the Sky !

....and THAT is how we won the match .

Ouch Potatoes.

I’m still reeling from the after effects of the( India vs Aus) match . And have completely given up attempts to rationalize why I sat chewing my nails ( or whats left of them ) to tinier bits into the wee hours of the night, jumping angrily every time sandy tried to change the channel .

Lets just say its hereditary.

Basically , now we need to buy a new television. So far , I have been content with skulking around the house doing anything but watching TV, while Sandy gets his exercise of the day surfing like a champ between channels .

With my new affection for the game , watching matches is turning into one of our ‘moments of stress' . ( Though not as bad as ‘who has delayed whom this morning’ – that one can get REALLY bad ) . Every commercial break , hubby dear switches to watch Amitabh strut his stuff or the totally non funny Great Indian Laughter Challenge . Ignoring me writhing on the floor pleading with him to not make me giddy with this flitting through worlds .

Sandy claims , though , that my love for cricket is likely to last as long as my love for glass painting / cooking in the oven ( for which we bought an oven ) and probably not as long as my interest in working out with personal trainer/wanting to learn salsa.

Lets see. Meanwhile maybe on Monday I should finish watching the finals in office !

Oh ..and I am suddenly feeling very enthusiastic about my blog and have posted PICTURES .

Death of a Phone ..

Mama tells me I started talking at the age of nine months . And by the age of one I was Baby Bilingual . ( I did not deem it necessary to walk till I was two and a half – mother claims my preferences haven’t changed since )

At two I called a pregnant houseguest (who was complaining to mama about her ailments) a hypochondriac , and at three told some pretty girls in a market ( who were admiring a very happy papa’s cute daughter ) that ‘I’m not a doll I’m a Rupika’

Not surprising that every afternoon my bleary eyed grandmother , weary of my unending desire to communicate would tell me ‘pranana vangriye rajati ‘ and a lot of other things I don’t remember which basically meant " Princess ( if calling you that gets you to shut up You Brat!) Spare my life and Let me sleep …."
Things haven’t changed since . Yesterday my Newest Victim ( NV ) told me I had murdered their Phone…..
NV claimed that in its entire life , poor Phone had not received as many sms’s as it did in an hour of messaging me ( let it be known here that NV loves hyperbole ) .
I felt very guilty for a while –considered getting myself a pseudonym – Rupika the Phone Slayer /The Communicator ( sequel to the exterminator) …. and I was wondering how to make amends with poor Phone.
Till the Voice of Reason in my head finally spoke – NV was equally guilty !!
a. They could have charged Phone and THEN it would have lived!
b. They know that sensitive soul that I am if they had NOT replied I would have stopped messaging

Any one of my 22 readers would see a pattern here and know that it is hypotheses time now . Why did NV become a co - conspirator in killing Phone ( or why do I end up turning normal human beings into SMS Rock Stars )
1. Initially out of politeness ( Now that I have got a message it’s good manners to reply , right ? )
2. Followed by a strong competitive instinct( SHE cannot sms faster than ME )
3. Entertainment on the go ( Hmmm…this is marginally better than radio !) and Intellectual exercise ( How shall I reply to THAT now ? )
4. A closet belief in magic ( What if those damn Cartwheels actually work ?!)
5. Curiosity . ( Whatever next ? ) ….

…..( there was a gap of a full working day between the beginning of this post and what follows now so if you notice a dramatic drop in quality please attribute it to mental exhaustion )

Come to think of it , this IS the end of this post . Need to do more research on this subject . There must be more than my 5 Top of Mind Ideas ! Maybe will write myself a brief . Maybe will post the brief....

PP( Post Post ) : Henceforth , Phone above will be referred to as RV or Real Victim.
PPPPP: ( Post Post Post on Photograph in Post ) That's my parents in the photo , still smiling ( because I hadn't spoken yet )

How to Cartwheel without Breaking Your neck .

My brother hates eating curd even today and we all blame it on my grandmother. A true tam brahm lady , she believed that dahi is the source of all that is pure and good – she used to threaten him /coax him and finally bribe him with chocolates till he ate his daily bowl of dairy goodness.
Why, you may ask, am I writing about curd, of all things .Valid question.

I think what Amma did to Tarun with curd is what Papa did to me and cricket. For him, cricket was a joy meant to be shared with all who were willing (and also unwilling!). For him there were two ways to ruin a match – rain stopped play and family not sitting with him and hanging on to every word/ball on TV . Come exam or birthday party – god help he ( or in most cases she ( she being me )) who did not settle quietly to watch the match and laugh about Henry Blowfields commentary on earrings or grow teary eyed over Gavaskar's 10000th test cricket runs ( in almost the 10000th viewing ) .Studying , talking to friends and other such things when there was a match on was , well , to quote, just not cricket !

Net Net as soon as I was old enough to think of good enough excuses, I stopped watching cricket and nothing since then succeeded in drawing me back.

Nothing, that is till the day I discovered Cartwheeling! (And also a minor  variation in the game, called 20 – 20 cricket)

It also started with my dear husband’s obsession with the game. Watching cricket turns him into a totally deaf ( except to commentary ) and speechless (atleast to me ) person , to whom I suddenly become invisible. Experience has taught me that he STILL retains the power to detect movement – so for example , if I jump around the room and spin wildly in semi cart wheels , he wrinkles his nose and frowns.

About last week someone asked me what the score was (and what I was up to) sometime during a match. And that’s when it happened …! Almost as soon as I said cart wheeling, India ACTUALLY took a wicket …Hmmmm … I would have forgotten about it , but in the next match I figured that doing mock cartwheels and alternating them with spells of sitting still seemed to be working ( India won the match versus Pakistan )
A firm believer in the power of expelliarmus charms and invisible cloaks, I was less surprised by this and more by the fact that I had watched a full cricket match!!
Not only that – I actually watched India’s next match as well (which we lost despite cart wheeling, flying and a minor space expedition) (yes I love Calvin and Hobbes) and then (wonder of wonders!) I watched a non India cricket match without any one asking me to!!!

Curiosity about human behaviour (mine and every one else’s) almost begs for an analysis here …or hypotheses at the very least
• Was it just that this new fast paced format made the gentlemen’s game a little less elegant and much more thrilling ( action from the word go !)
• Or was it that for the first time I started watching a match of my own accord , starting with a query on a score, moving on to a casino like thrill of wondering whether my next move will be ‘lucky’
• Could it be that that entire cart wheeling with no broken neck made me feel like the Nadia I could have been (I KNEW I should have kept up the ballet and gymnastics?)

Have a strange feeling that the REAL reason is still missing . Will watch the next match and report. Watch this space!

PP ( Post post ) . This post isn't really about cartwheeling without breaking your neck , is it ? Apologies if that was why you read it !

Confessions of a serial SMSer

I have been accused , recently , of being a serial sms- er .
( Please note that the accusing party , also , couldn’t help complimenting me on the speed with which I can sms , and my ability to be witty while sending an sms every 10 seconds )

In defence of why I like to sms….

Its non intrusive
- With a phone call , the person at the other end HAS to talk to you - You’re on the other end of the phone hanging on and booming in their ear!An sms is like a gentle nudge ….the recipient can easily ignore it if the choose , or can reply at their own pace …

It lets you stay in touch
- With all those people who you want to just say Hi to , but really don’t have enough to say for a full phone conversation

Its a neat way to make new friends
- A lot because of 1 and 2 above. And also because silly small questions seem less silly and less small on a tiny mobile screen than if you were to ask them in person !
It teaches you to be clear about what you want to say
- Try sending a long rambling sms with a reliance phone. After 20 words it will tell you ‘no more space’ and then you just have to cut out the fringes and say what you really want to

Its mental gymnastics
- This is really last but not least .If you have ever had a battle of texts with someone , you’ll know what I mean . With a worthy ‘opponent’ sustaining a volley of sms’s is hugely entertaining and makes you feel happy that you haven’t lost your college debating skills yet

On a somewhat unconnected note – haven’t written anything for ages .Largely because I have also discovered Facebook ( yes the very same social networking site that various employers across UK were thinking of putting a ban on )

The speed with which face book catches on irrespective of age group ( I have facebook friends who are 15 years older and 15 years younger , each with their own networks of friends their own age ) shows how much people want to be in touch , stay connected , and will grab any solution that helps them do so within the madness and speed of everyday living ….With facebook I am now in touch with all my various cousins tossed across the globe - with whom the average frequency of conversation was at Christmas/Diwali depending on which side of the family . Now I get messages saying ‘why does your facebook status say irritated ? what happened’ Also met friends who I haven’t spoken to in YEARS .

Still …all excuses …I am determined to write more regularly now.