200

200

The most important number in India on 24th February, 2010 in India.

->Its the number of runs Sachin Tendulkar scored against South Africa yesterday in a ODI.
->It was probably the sound decibal level at the Gwalior Stadium where Sachin scored the runs.
->It was....awesome

I know no one wants to read yet another blog about why Sachin Tendulkar is the next best thing to God in my country but its the sheer awesomeness of the guy which makes me write this, and nothing else. Just nothing else.

When I was watching the highlights last night I was almost in tears when I saw Sachin sending almost every other ball to the boundry. Yes, the fact that I had two beers down my throat helped but a cricket match never brought me on the verge of tears ever...even when intoxicated (except the one time when Kumble had the Pakistani team for dinner/10 wickets in an innings...i had a lump in my throat)...but last night was different...

The South African dressing room must have been silent last night. Except for the din coming from outside...not because they underperformed or could have done better. But for the fact that they could do nothing, absolutely nothing against one man who stands just five feet, five inches tall and never even hurls an abuse on the field. One man decimated the best bowling attack in the world. Just one guy.

200 runs in one innings of an ODI. TWO HUNDRED RUNS....GODDAMMIT CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT.....

I don't worship Sachin Tendulkar like many in this nation. I believe he is human and is capable of folly. I believe he also gets angry and sad and frustuated sometimes. I believe he can mess things up just like most of us do sometimes. But all that changed last night.

For bringing a smile to my face countless number of times (and for the tears last night) and for being an inspiration to me and constantly reminding me of the fact that actions are louder, more potent than words, Mr. Sachin Tendulkar, take a bow. God bless you sir.

And in the words of Po (Kung Fu Panda): Legend tells of a legendary cricketer whose cricket skills were the stuff of legend....

I am not winking at you! My eye is fluttering!

Its hasn't been a very happy day for me. I was woken up by scores of mosquitoes feeding on my blood, very early in the morning. By the time I managed to get a handful of them (squished in my palms...an act done without the aid of any light), and was almost dlipping into deep sleep, my alarm clock woke me up. It was time to get ready for office. And then my left eye started fluttering. Which is a bad omen in these parts of the world.

By the time I reached office, I concluded that my left eyelid has a multiple personality disorder. Sometimes it thinks its a bird. Madly fluttering, it had already invited some scornful stares from a couple of girls in the bus who took no time to jump to the conclusion that I was winking at them.

The bus chugged into the office gates and I made my quick exit to save myself from being slapped. Then came the a rather dull day at work. Which, is nothing usual but for the past few days I made sure that my day was'nt dull. But today was different. My fingers, as well as my mind seemed filled with lead. The only thing that kept my grey cells active was the Test Match between India and South Africa. India came back strongly today but it was Amla who kept threatning to steal away the win from India. He just stood there playing everything which was thrown at him as if he had vowed to not get out...and he kept his vow. The rest of his team mates fell. Harbhajan gave India the win, much deserved and hard fought.

And India's win is just about the only good thing that has happened to me today. Rest of it has been cursed by my fluttering MPD-inflicted eye.

Its seven in the evening and the freaking thing is still fluttering.

Beginning of the end or end of the beginning?

I some times wonder when it all began.

By now you must already be thinking that this is going to be another depressing blog about someone trying to understand the purpose of his existence/why he doesn't have his dream job yet/why he is the way he is/why does he suck so much/......another depressing blog....then you are right.....

And wrong at the same time. Because in the process of writing the past few sentences I have just realised that a tale of some one's undoing is not something to be written on a blog. Its probably something to be written in a personal diary/letter to girlfriend(if she is immensely patient) or told to a shrink.

So I am going to spare you the torture...and torture myself...sometime later.

Disillusionment

I enter the gates of my test center-NMIMS, Mumbai*-and I see six breathtaking beauties running towards me. And before you think that I may have invited Ranbeer Kapoor or Salman Khan as a guest writer (and to think of such a thing, you need to be retarded beyond scope of recovery), let me complete the last sentence; they run past me.

They were girls right out of a college-themed soap opera. Beautiful and brimming with energy, wearing outfits which only our screen-goddesses are seen wearing in movies (now please don't start thinking about bikinis; all I mean to say is that they were outfitted pretty modernly). The familiar feeling of being invisible comes back to me. To them I was just an object standing in the middle of the path. An object to avoid colliding with. To me, they were a dream, a dream which now seems more and more difficult to achieve.

The dream to get into a good b-school in India.

I know that every year around 250000 set out to achieve this dream and 249000 of them fail. I belong to this category. And for three years, i have held on to my title (of a wannabe B-School graduate). I am the undisputed champion of messing up entrance examinations and screwing up interviews. But I am losing steam now.

No longer do I wish to spend (or rather waste) one more year preparing for CAT/SNAP/NMAT/XAT. For my constant failures have only made me re-think my methods; not of studies but how I have seen my life so far.

As I write these words, I stand disillusioned. I realise that the oasis I was seeking, was just another mirage. I realise that I stepped out to cross the ocean on a boat with no compass, no map, no food and the worst folly of them all, no rum. Aaarghhhh!!! NO RUM!!!

*NMIMS-Mumbai: One of the top B-Schools of India. Present dead in the center of the city in between the financial hub of Mumbai famous for pretty girls running around the college playing some crazy management game. I wish I was studying here.

The 25th year crisis

'So, whats new in your life?' asked my friend with a fake enthusiasm usualy displayed by doctors inquiring about terminally ill, living-on-a-prayer, brain tumor patients. I gave him a look usually given to doctors faking enthusiasm, by terminally ill brain tumor patients. Something like this:-

I had an answer though. I said, 'A new blog'. And you are reading it.

As the title suggests, I am currently going through a quater life crisis (25th year, hoping I live for 100 years!!HAHA) and here all of you can have a glimpse of what is going on in my mind. This not a forum to discuss solutions to my problems or provide me with the much needed emotional support (but the even more needed financial support is always welcome) but just a place where I can vent out my feelings.

I already have a blog 'Observations' which contains similar content. A dear friend of mine would have put the same thing as,' Same shit, different blog'. (All those who have seen Shawshank Redemption will know what I mean). But as change(which is supposed to be the only constant thing in life) is the only thing inconsistant in my life, i decided to take things in my own hands. Ans so a new blog is born.

I am quiet sure that by the time this blog is an year old, the title would look something like, 'The 26th year Crisis'. I dont mind it but I just hope the nature of the crisis will be different then. And with that heartning and uplifting thought (sarcasim truly adds spice to life), let us begin this journey.