Vital Curriculum

Breaking Adolescence

Manic Algebra

Generic Evisceration

Illuminating English Gardens

Mostly Satisfactory

Persuasive History, Discriminating

the rhetoric of twitter

bhogleharsha Harsha Bhogle

@

@vvkrj because i am looking at it rationally, not with a pre-determined mind.

Harsha Bhogle believes that being rational means being not pre-determined. He should read some McCloskey.

Station Id:47283

By chance, I happen to fall upon a website that allows you to tune in to Cricket Australia.

And now, I discover the joys of listening to radio commentary. Let me tell you kids this is one of those rare little pleasures that one happens to tumble onto. Test match through a radio perspective is a strange mythical beast, I struggle to put into words how vivid everything seems. It is probably the greatest tool I have come upon as background to when I work.

It helps that there isn't an obnoxious ex-Indian captain telling us how he would do it; or an ex-allrounder whose collection of methaphors wouldn't exceed the number of fingers he has on one hand. The quality of commentary is so much better, and it isn't simply that they have to describe everything - that would be boring.

For whatever reason, sacrificing the visual implies you note the rise and fall of the commentators voices more clearly; at the same time the commentator also understands this. The two reinforce each other in a symmetrical merry go round, chasing each other on and on. The commentator also translate the emotion of the players better; partly this is due to the fact that one hears the noise the crowd makes - and let me say, crowds in Australia are superb, they applaud whenever a bowler gets a wicket and once again at the end of the over, for instance. Talk moves over the nature of the players, their movement, you hear the whirring of the air-conditioner as they talk about the heat and your mind makes images that reality could only disappoint.

These tiny flicks of atmosphere are almost totally missing from television coverage, don't ask me why. I feel so much more drawn into a game, even when its boring, you can feel the breeze they talk about or the slope of the ground as the ball rolls away. Your head is clear of most thoughts, and your mind opens up.

And the oddest thing of all - one feels more neutral and tend to empathize in a strange way. This isn't pantomime, no, it's a bunch of (mostly) 20 somethings attempting to snatch a piece of history for themselves under the knowledge that most of their efforts will be wasted. There is a heroism here of an ordinary kind, the best kind.

I feel more grown up, ain't that somefin' as the little girl delightfully yelled to her mother when she saw the rainbow over the car park?

A heavy nostalgia hangs in my head these days, searching for I don't know what, I spent 2 hours staring at the sky today with thoughts of my papers, friends, and family popping around, mirroring the shift of the clouds, duality to the power of too many. I can't see what's going on, but something is changing. Edges are smoothing, puffing away silently from chaos into order. 2 years of thought strained by the constraints imposed by academic discourse into a few pages of talk and numbers (but the numbers also talk only we give them their speech). There are no endings, only new beginnings, proclaimed Sir Bruce Dickinson. So all we are right now disappears in an instant, and then we are reborn again; what we end up is then a collection of beginnings besides the dust and bones, it is this that people remember, no? A delightful view, I urge you to consider it with care.

Hmmm, hmmm, hmmmm.

facebook? more like facepalm

for the last time, quit it,

(a)those pictures fishing for compliments

no it is not something you did that made your friends squeal with "so hottt yarrr"

other than show a little skin, wearing a flirty little nothing expression and that handsome pout

so don't f*ing say "thanks! :) "

its about as original as having cornflakes as breakfast - nice, but nothing new

gah

(b) and i'm happy your professional life has kicked into a higher gear, don't shove it in my face, i don't really care, your writing is pretty ordinary anyway

talk is cheap, but listening isn't, no sir.

Growing into me

Okay, so I'm warning you this is going to be very intense and emo type

Still there? I mean, I'm listening to Atif Aslam.

Hmmm.

Right now, life is close to being a bit scary; for, as they say, "professional" reasons. I suppose one can comfort oneself by claiming it is okay beta chase your dreams and all. And, being the obstinate romantic fool, I be doing the above, right mamu?

Except that there's times of doubt, where you look back at yourself extrapolate forwards in time and worry about your own abilities. Self doubt is a terrible thing, you see, although it is a great motivator. It is probably the single worst thing you have to confront because no one, no one has an answer to it.

The problem is, I'm seeing capable, smart people not quite making it. They're not exactly on the streets, but the desperation is evident even to me. Where am I going to go what am I going to do I'm turning 30 god help me etc. These are good friends, old friends, the sort you don't hesitate to call (although it's been a long time since we had a chat like 4 years ago when we were freed of the need to make something of ourselves). Calling is painful too now, how do you soothe someone with its-okay-something-will-happen when inside you're squirming as well? Honesty requires an honest answer, and scary as it is, I don't have an answer.

Should I say listen perhaps you aren't as good as you thought you were? Should I say the world doesn't know what its missing? What can I say to you when you don't return the email I sent, with a lame attempt at a joke 3 years past its expiry. I get it, you're not in a laughing mood, this is no joke, there's a possibility of a happy accomplished life that looks like it's slowly sinking away. Maybe you could consider the possibility that that's not what you were cut out for.

That is however the only way I can respond, because it isn't too far now for me, this looking for security. So I make fun of it, because thank the lord, at least we have a place to go to in case everything fails. Ex-post, like my brother says, everything works out. Might as well have a laugh about it, because apart from laughter and the warmth of our lately disappearing companionship there really isn't much else worth fighting for.

But I get it, I really do, and it scares me as well. What if, you're asking yourself, what if I have to spend the rest of my life as a disappointment to myself?

Maybe we should have done that MBA what? Yeah right! It's been a great trip so far, so what if it takes an unexpected turn? Come over to our little dumpy flat with its old carpet sometime won't you. We'll get drunk and watch movies and make french toast at 2 am again to go watch the snow outside and strike up an arbitrary conversation with two old ladies who surprise us with their energy at this time of night-morning. It did nothing for our ego, but it got us through in splendid fashion.

Gazing into the Abyss

There is a school of thought, exploited for instance in George Orwell's 1984, which suggests that very often the corruption of ideas takes place without the knowledge of the parties whose ideas are being corrupted. Indeed, the process of corruption itself arises without intentional design but manages to envelop parties that are "close" to it. The only cure for this is prevention, and prevention comes through utmost skepticism.

Reading this:

http://opinionsoncricket-india.blogspot.com/2012/01/dirty-picture-indian-story-2011.html

Excerpt:

Sachin Tendulkar decides that IPL is more important than a tour of the West Indies.

2011 is the year Sachin Tendulkar became just another cricketer.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni leads India to an expected win in the first Test on the West Indies tour. Then he takes the mike in the post match press conference and delivers perhaps some of the the most arrogant and unsportsmanlike responses to questions by any Indian captain.

Why men like Mahendra Singh Dhoni, Sachin Tendulkar, Rahul Dravid, VVS Laxman, Virendra Sehwag, and Zaheer Khan did not do more to come better prepared left me with a sense of betrayal. What value do these seniors bring to the team if they are unwilling to influence priorities and make a stand and instead simply be content to play the 'We are victims of the system' card.

and comparing it with the soft superficialities that Harsha Bhogle, supposedly India's premier writer on cricket, comes up with on cricinfo, it is clear which analysis is cutting closer to the bone; and who is really calling it as they see it. Bhogle blames lack of fitness for the Indian cricket team's record of 6 straight losses.

Let me be clear here. I haven't really been following cricket from about 2002/2003 until the World Cup victory last year. That's a big break, mostly because I grew tired of seeing the same meaningless one day internationals, while all I was looking for was Eden Gardens part II. I would notice off and on if something happened - such as the Sydney test in 2008 - but it wouldn't really register. I did notice however that India were actually winning some test matches, and I remember wishing I could care a bit more.

I suspect I will be returning soon to that looking at how India played in England and the rubbish they're doing in Australia. What angers - angers! - me is the denial shown - Ashwin going to press conference (since when did this start to happen anyway?) and saying no we didn't do anything wrong, the pitch is dead what to do. What is interesting is not what he said, but what he didn't say. He didn't say we were playing like we didn't care. He didn't say we were totally uninspired. He didn't say they were trying different things but it didn't work.

Look, Ashwin is only 24, and we've all done foolish things at 24. I don't understand why Captain Fantastic wasn't handling the press conference. You're captain, you're answerable damn it.

If cricket wants to be taken seriously, it better take itself seriously. Otherwise it'll all go down the T20 way, which god bless its soul, retains nothing of the beauty, drama and the aesthetic of Test cricket. American football, or just plain ol' football is by far the more preferred bang-bang kind of sport; cricket has no hope against this.

So when the richest administrative body in the world, with players who are treated like Gods, with money tumbling out of their pockets, cannot see to it that it ought to run its business professionally; that the big mad media machine refuses to see this as a major problem; that cricketers in India are above all blame, I am afraid cricket will not hold out for another 100 years. And all ye on cricinfo take note: if there's a lot that is *not* reported and there appears to be quite a bit of this, you are burying the sport that much deeper. Not that the guys doing commentary are any better - oy, if you hate t-20 so much, why bother watching and commenting on it?

Cricket is lucky that despite such losses and the ambivalence shown to them, we the paying emotionally invested Indian audience will keep watching. The lack of honesty will ultimately have massive harmful effects.

The real cause of trouble though is that this lack of honesty may be being committed in total innocence.

Saturday Morning Breakfast Metaphor

Many times I have moaned about the loss of the music of rock, however it seems that the rock stars turned into investment bankers:

http://totalfratmove.com/769302

sexism? check.

misogyny? check.

a realization that most of them are just lucky to be there, but being cocky instead of grateful? check.

a tendency to engage with drugs and women of questionable morality? check!

I should re-phrase: there is a lot in this of the sort of rock and roll I actively dislike, which is why I never warmed up much to Led Zeppelin what with their wanting to be back door men and all. Somehow they're okay, but when Poison did the same, ohnomygod that is awful.

Probably this is also why I prefer the very uncool Iron Maiden ("born by quest for fire/ they roamed across the land" ha ha oh relly mr dickinson) as my favorite band; I also tend to have a preference for working class bands - early Metallica, early Maiden, Motorhead, and Tesla. They're a bit cheesy - though some Motorhead is an exception - but its raw and honest, sort of like a god-fearing piece of sushi.

But I digress from my point: as much as we might despise the rock star, he/she is necessary to provide the sexiness, the move and the shake. The rock star is the capitalist ideal in human form, and the extreme example tells the story. Annoying, simple, depraved, but what a great avenue to showcase the creativity and solidarity of man. They're rock bands remember working within a limited range - this isn't jazz.

I like the comparison of good rock music to say, a good burger, or a alu paratha. Thick, rich, not necessarily the most subtle blend of flavors, but a good source of fuel. I'm in good company here, Anthony Bourdain and other celeb chefs of the real sort say over and over their favorite meal would be something simple (Pho for instance is really simple).

So, I guess what I'm saying is: the investment banker is the rock star of our generation; we need them to get off. A basic, simple need. It's time people see this. Let us not lose the sexiness!!!

"You cannot yet imagine,

How you will dance for me;
But you will dance forever
To the tune that I decree." - Motorhead, "Serial Killer"

Of late, horror of horrors, I've been listening to some electronic music. Seems to be a natural progression of sorts.