Bokuju's Revenge

Bokuju- my cat, or so I'm told,

Makes a play ever so bold,

Stretches and observes the rain outside swirl,

and sticks his tongue to the dogs of the world.

He looks around a bit, circles himself twice

Admires his tail and shuts his eyes.

Dogs and Men looking at him

Wonder what they did wrong

to toil and spin

When they can curl up better than he

with tea and a book or three.

Bokuju opens one eye in repose

and mocks the one life that we fast close.

"I've got nine, all mine

to live this divine."

Hello, Goodbye

Damn. Swagat's shutting down, and it makes a BBC (Bevda Brahmin Club) member weep. They are taking the building down, and of course a new apartment block coming up wouldn't want a rabble rousing establishment down below (Ek taraf mera ghar aur neeche Maikada anyone!)

Anyhoo. So us roisterers decided to say goodbye to swagat, and it continued to live up to its billing. Not the impeccable service or delectable food; or the regulars; or the slightly swaying gentleman in the corner going out to take a call.... it was the sheer unpredictable nature of the joint that made one sit up and take notice.

This time, a local goon type had got a rottweiler in. A dog! Huge beast, reminded me of the Baskerville Hound if anything... he sat quietly while goono finished his tipple.

Swagat welcomes everyone, I guess. But not for long.

The Other Side of the Fence

This weekend, I happened to be on the other side of the fence- a spectator- for a local 20-20 cricket match my friends were playing in. Deccan Gymkhana gleamed in the winter sunlight. In the pavilion, the atmosphere was cool, pleasant, almost sleepy at times. Not all times, though. Players shouted encouragement, a few whistles were heard here and there, and the action on the ground was engaging. Twenty-twenty; so a lot of sixers and fours.

I realised that I used to do this fool thing a few years back. I could see the underlying tension then, the knot in the stomach when a wicket fell in the dressing room; the confabulations between the captain and some senior players;the silly superstitions coming out in full force and the hip hip hurrays when the game was won. The crazy thirst that happens to only a cricketer when water is a luxury which people outside just don't get. (why should they ask for drinks all the time? :))

I also realised that cricket was so enjoyable as a spectator sport, on the ground. There is something strangely calming about the game; something you don't see on TV.

From the other side of the fence, cricket is chess played on a green.