Napoleon

“The iPhone is a piece of shit. I never got sucked into that hype. Never. It would never work for me. I would go crazy if my fingertips couldn’t feel the keyboard. No brother, I have always been a Blackberry man. A loyalist you could even call me. Three Blackberry Pearls is what I used [...]

Sightlines blurred

The cricket helmet will never be a purveyor of epic imagery that its siblings the floppy hat and the traditional cap specialize in. Not for it the heart-stopping freeze frame of Richards cork-screwed, nostrils flared as he hooked at Thommo; his maroon cap blown off and suspended in mid-air. Nor the laconic cool of the [...]

You came, I saw, you conquered

Published on ESPN-Cricinfo, March 7, 2012 Sixty. That would be around the time the opposition shook themselves out of their discombobulated stupor and contemplated the reality of their situation. Or the hopelessness. You blazed up to and past that number nonchalantly oh so often. You were never one for the numbers, were you? Sixty today. [...]

Terminator

The taxi had driven past a sprawling hospital en route to the bistro. Was that the one, he wondered. With the framed painting in the waiting room. Of Bradman pulling to midwicket; crinkled visage of authoritative satisfaction in oil paint. The doctor had been efficient and effusive. Proceeded to embarrass him by asking for an [...]

Cement Head

Featured on Bored Cricket Crazy Indians (BCC!) on January 16, 2012 Now you’ve done it, you’ve done it haven’t ya? Yes, you’ve opened up your addled mind Squelched out a priceless and noxious beauty A tracer bullet off your copious behind A mind and behind of opulent plenty – aye we know Buckling under its [...]

Dear Mr. Arlott

Original draft of article published on ESPN-Cricinfo, November 27, 2011 He himself must resolve them as well as he knows, Or else take them with him wherever he goes. – J. A The sun shone weakly. It was April and the milieu was cold and bleak in Tilbury. Dark smoke billowing out of her funnels, [...]

The Botox has gone Toxic

If you go around in circles faster and faster, eventually you will disappear up your own arse. That would be a Being John Malkovitch moment, albeit at the other end. Right now, the game of cricket has done exactly that and has virtually disappeared up its own behind.

London (and Nottingham) calling

Landed in London and was faced with the sad news of Amy Winehouse’s death. Then discovered that my camera’s motor had passed away too. Oh well…there was still the cricket to look forward to. At least that’s what I thought then…until…oh, you know what happened. I do tend to forget to take photographs when I [...]

My city, my festival

I can recall September 12, 2001 very vividly. Sitting out on the patio at Hemingway’s, a cozy restaurant-pub in the upscale Yorkville hood of Toronto, I was having lunch. Right across the table in front of me sat Dustin Hoffman, flipping through a newspaper, nursing a drink. I had my eye on the NY Times [...]

The Beacon

In retrospect, it was on the second day at Edgbaston when it unraveled in surreal fashion. It would only get worse after that. Ground out by the dour Cook and pummeled into dazed oblivion by Pietersen, India disintegrated. Disintegrated into a catatonic state – a condition that afflicted them for the bulk of the remainder [...]