Money talks... so does bullshit

Heroes- The Wallflowers

I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, for ever and ever.

We can be Heroes, just for one day.

I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing, nothing will drive them away
We can be Heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day

I, I remember standing, by the wall
And the guns, shot above our heads
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever

Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
Just for one day

Bring out the pom-poms, wave the jhandas and yell at the top of your voice: victory is sweet. Savor it, for it may be another false dawn, much like what several sporting memories have been for this harrowed nation. For all the double-digit growth this country has had economically (and demographics-wise), India as a sporting nation is starved of success. As a nation, we perhaps stand for the exact opposite of success breeds success. All it breeds is a burden of history, a burden weighing down many a mighty career. But, that’s not the issue here.

It was nice to hear the Pakistanis, each to a man, acknowledge the opposition in defeat. It’s the true hallmark of close sporting challenges that the vanquished opponent stands up and says, “Well fought. You were the better man today.” To that, I doff my cap, but put it firmly in place for the ensuing events. Money has for long been the name of the game, and just how big a name was shown today. In a show that can be described as farcical at best, and a PR fiasco at worst, the BCCI announced a $2 million bonus for the Indian cricket team, this on top of the $1 million that the organizers were handing out as prize money. That’s $3 million split 22 ways, unless you are named Yuvraj Singh, because if you are, add another 10 million rupees on top of that. Not a bad effort for 2 weeks worth of bashing the ball around. Alarm bells are ringing. While it is undoubtedly a stirring riposte to all those who wrote off the Men in Blue (yes, remember those ad campaigns for the world cup?), $2 million?? 10 million rupees for bashing six sixes in an over?

Granted, they played out of their skins. It’s not like they did it for free. Granted it was a backs-to-the-wall job, but then again, if you play shit, where do you expect to be? The bookies aren’t going to place you as odds-on favorite unless you are odds-on favorites. Wonder what would the extra prize money would be if India lost? Now, I may seem like the-cup-is-half-empty but all I ask is for realism. It’s a victory and let it be a spring board for more. Compensating them with twice the prize money of the tournament is just plain stupid. It’s like your boss walking up to you and saying: I hired you as a troubleshooter, you shot out all the troubles, here’s thrice your salary for doing the job that I promised to pay you a fair salary for in the first place. And it could’ve been announced at any other point, not at the presentation ceremony in front of a gallant team that played its guts out and lost by a whisker. I bet there are a fair few in the green and yellow of Pakistan wondering what it would take to get that sort of money in their lives.

Money talks, bullshit walks. I remember Danny DeVito telling this line to Arnold Schwarzenegger (damn name is so hard to spell) in a movie. I never understood it then (I was a kid) but it has to be modified today: the bullshit talks as well. The BCCI is well known for knee-jerk reactions, and this could very well be another one in what is already a very long list. The nonsense that has come out of that office in the last 2 decades leaves people wondering where the next fiasco will come from. Yet, when they talk, everyone else listens. It’s a pity they don’t listen to themselves.

But for now, the streets of Delhi, Bombay and Bangalore will still be awash with people and color singing to ‘Chak De India’, dancing in gullies and streets, sharing the joy. And they should mirror that sentiment in Peshawar, Islamabad, and Karachi, because there is no shame in Pakistan’s performance. It takes two to make a match, and if the coin flipped the other way, no one would begrudge the winners then, as no one does now.

Snow White’s Seven Stooges... my version

Late for the Sky- Jackson Browne

The words had all been spoken
And somehow the feeling still wasn’t right
And still we continued on through the night
Tracing our steps from the beginning
Until they vanished into the air
Trying to understand how our lives has led us there

Looking hard into your eyes
There was nobody I’d ever known
Such an empty surprise to feel so alone

Now for me some words come easy
But I know that they don’t mean that much
Compared with the things that are said when lovers touch
You never knew what I loved in you
I don’t know what you loved in me
Maybe the picture of somebody you were hoping I might be

Awake again I can’t pretend and I know I’m alone
And close to the end of the feeling we’ve known

How long have I been sleeping
How long have I been drifting alone through the night
How long have I been dreaming I could make it right
If I closed my eyes and tried with all my might
To be the one you need

Awake again I cant pretend and I know I’m alone
And close to the end of the feeling we’ve known

How long have I been sleeping
How long have I been drifting alone through the night
How long have I been running for that morning flight
Through the whispered promises and the changing light
Of the bed where we both lie
Late for the sky

We all know of the seven stooges Snow White had in her very own movie. Imagine that… the movie is named after you when you’re a relative unknown… why doesn’t Ridley Scott direct “Robert De Niro” starring… you guessed it Bobby ‘you lookin’ at me’ Junior (his dad’s name was also Robert… go figure). It would be more than amusing, however, if Scott signed up Al Pacino to play the role of Bobby. That would sell tickets. But, I digress…

So, we’re all familiar with Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Bashful, Happy, Dopey (she gets to have illegal drugs on her own movie, and this is for kids, yeah?) and Sneezy. Now, I must confess, I had to look up to find these names, coz, well, I don’t remember them so well. But they greatly aid me in this game of tag, where I have to point out seven kooks of mine. My only problem is…just seven? Well… here goes.. My modified version of who should have accompanied Snow White on her quest for stardom:

1) Grumpy: no surprises there. I am as grumpy as they come. Sarcasm is my forte, and dispensing it judiciously (read wantonly) is perhaps what I live for. He, him, and her can all testify to it. In fact, I don’t think I give a straight response to any question that is put toward me. Just ask Bastard… He’ll tell you. E.g.

“Where did you lose it?”

“I don’t know. I placed it there, and now it’s gone.” That's what normally would happen. But if it was me:

“Where did you lose it?”

“Well, if I knew where I lost it, it wouldn’t be lost, would it?”

Yes ladies and gentlemen… if I were indeed in a movie, expect more of the same. It would be a one man show… literally. I don’t think anyone would care for such spontaneity on the set, regardless of how much they are paid.

2) Smiley: shocking? No, no… I’m not smiley… in fact, I’m the exact opposite. I have this seemingly bizarre handicap of being unable to smile for a picture. It has been called the South Indian smile (because it goes downward. Don’t look at me… I didn’t coin it. A British born part Sardar with an affinity for the corny things in life is the one you want to trample all over). Poke fun, make faces, have two ladies feel each other up right behind the camera, you’ll get nothing. Nada! Zilch! I am as expressionless as Abe Lincoln is, sitting wherever he’s sitting in Washington. You’d find more cheer in a graveyard when you look at pictures of me. Flashing grins to one side, weird looks and kooky faces to the other are all centered on the look from hell: touch me and I’ll kill you is what it conveys. It’s mainly why we don’t have a family portrait after I crossed the 5^th grade. Apparently I’m scary… *shrugs*… Big deal! It’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Well, we know what’s on the inside… just look at point 1, and you’ll instantly want to be my ‘best-bud’

3) Geeky: Yes, I’m a geek in some respects. It takes me 15 steps to come from the landing to my room on a good day (when I’m bright and peppy) and 20 when I’m in a foul mood. How do I know this? I counted. That’s what I do. I count the number of steps it takes to get around places I’m familiar. This all stemmed from the fact that I had a poor sense of direction as a kid, so I decided to take matters in my own hand, and count the number of steps and the time taken to get to known places. It helped in telling if I was going the right way, or was getting sidetracked. It has now become a subconscious thing, and I do it for fun sometimes (the sense of direction has improved, so I no longer rely on this technique). I read for fun, and read a lot. I once went through exam month (we never had weeks, just months for midterms) reading 14 books in 28 days instead of spending most of that time studying. Why? Just for kicks, I think. I like assembling things, mainly Lego pieces or puzzles, fixing PCs and generally doing geek like stuff. Sue me.

4) Fiddly: I fiddle with things. Whether they need to be fiddled with or not, that’s a separate issue. I have taken apart phones, just to see what a speaker looks like. You might think that’s being geeky, but it isn’t. I have a destructive streak in me, since the age of being able to lift things that could be destroyed. I have tripped the power board to my house, gotten electrocuted, caused sparks and a small fire and banged my head while doing so all in the last 3 months. Yes, I come with a hazard warning. I have been known to open up electronic devices, not know how to close them back, like the thermostat for the central AC controller at home in Bahrain. The temperature kept dropping, and it was not taken too kindly. *Shrugs again* I’m curious… it killed cats, not humans… nothing wrong in that. I have also fiddled with the faucet for the gas cylinder while it was connected because I forgot to tell the guy to open it. I used a hammer and steel contraption, causing sparks to fly off… the gas cylinder was full, and I’m still here to talk about it. All’s well that ends well. Maybe I should call this destructy. However, it helped that I had a fiddly roommate as well, who took it to levels beyond my wildest imagination. Yes… those were the good days…

5) Fidgety: I cannot sit still, almost never have been able to. This is partly why I don’t like going to movies. You have no choice but to sit in one chair for 2 hours (or, God forbid, 3 if it’s Hindi) and watch some other idiot run around shooting off a gun, screaming profanities, breaking down into tears, or humping the hot chick he spent that last 1 hour 55 minutes wooing. I mean… that’s 2 hours of paying someone else money to straightjacket you to a seat and throw insane shit at you. You cannot move, coz other people ask you, politely, to sit the fuck down. You cannot talk, coz either the machine gun is going off, or other moviegoers politely ask you to shut the fuck up. In my opinion, movies are wasted. In fact, when I watch a movie on my PC, I’m chatting, playing Freecell, browsing the net, and watching all at the same time. Kooky, but yeah… works for me. Even for foreign films with subtitles. I twiddle with pencils when I’m in class, scratch my head, look around, stare at the clock and make a nuisance of myself. I pace in the room when I’m bored, chew my lip when reading and stick my tongue out when focusing. *Yet another shrug*I have issues… sue me.

6) Angry: I have a temper, and I will use it on you. I don’t care if you cry, scream, moan or sit there and pout. If you are stupid enough to raise it, you will bear the brunt of it. Deal with it. Life’s all about getting what you asked for, and you sure as hell ask for it.

7) Singy: Not stingy, singy. Yes, I sing. When I’m driving, I always sing. I don’t know why. As soon as my hands touch the steering wheel, it’s like Pavarotti (may his soul rest in peace) infuses his spirit in me. And I don’t sing good… not by a long shot. And not many people have witnessed it, although Bastard has seen me dance when driving… much to his amusement. Which reminds me: I’m a magnet for bad driving. Whenever I get on the road, it seems like the spirit of Idiot God takes over some drivers on the road, and they proceed to show me how bad they really are at driving. I have one word to describe them: assholes.

Well…there you have it. If I were the stooges of Snow White, I would be those. It would thereby assure that I am the main protagonist because she’d have fled long before the first shot was done, and never returned. Suits me… I never was a big fan of Disney anyway.

And since we’re on the theme of movies, here’s a line that came up to me recently and still cracks me over. The movie: Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The scene: 4 guys with no experience of crime want to rob their neighbors who are peddling drugs, thereby having experience of the shady underworld. Two of the four guys are name Soap and Eddie, and they are discussing the schematics of conducting the robbery.

Eddie: Oh, one more thing, they’re going to be armed.

Soap: Armed? You mentioned nothing about them being armed! What are they going be armed with?

Eddie: Oh, I don’t know. Bad breath, colorful language… a feather duster… GUNS, you tit!

I love that movie… and to take another line from that… it’s time to bid adieu with the words *Jamaican Accent* chill Winstaan!