The Invincibles

                Rains, farce, soaring tempers, heartbreak- we have had everything in this edition of the Champions Trophy. The Indians, emerging from the IPL spot-fixing quagmire, were out there to prove a point. A whitewash in England, another rout at the hands of Australia, losses at home- the shambolic displays had cast a shadow of doubt over the younger brigade. The retired veterans called for the senior players’ heads, the management received a lot of flak; 2012 was annus horribilis for Indian cricket. For me, this victory is as sweet as the World Cup if not more.

                

                  The road to the finals was not one of roses but boggy with hostile conditions, ferocious fast bowling attacks and the somewhat-farcical Duckworth-Lewis system. Having negotiated these encumbrances with fluid ease, India went into the finals with the odds stacked in their favour. But then, cricket is not a game of dice. The rain gods were not merciful this time and the inclement weather threatened to reduce the much-awaited final to a damp no-show. But to the ever-optimistic cricket fan who stayed glued to his seat for 6 hours in the icy cold weather, the crackerjack of a ODI-meets-T20 game that followed was worth his money.

                 The revered Indian batting line-up managed a seemingly paltry 129 runs on the board in a stop-start innings. By ordinary ODI, oh sorry, T20 standards, this was a mediocre total. But this was different. India could easily have screwed up and been 80-all out against the swinging ball. The batsmen did well to keep the Shahid Afridi and Umar Akmal impulses at bay and provided the bowlers something to bowl at. It was going to be a tricky chase.

                

                Things were pretty normal initially with the expected early wickets and the low run rate of England. But what ensued after the 17^th over was surreal.

                Dhoni had kept his best bowlers for the end, which was again nothing short of a gamble. Suresh Raina or Ishant Sharma could have easily gone for 20 runs in some over . And then came the 18^th over. Seeing the visuals of the lanky Ishant Sharma handing his cap to the umpire, I was like “Dhoni, are you nuts?!” My mind went back to Johannesburg, 6 years ago, where Dhoni had pulled off a similar coup using Joginder Sharma in the same format. Back to the present. The ball flying all over the park, a couple of wides; I bet the Indian fans ensconced in front of their TV screens would have been muttering a flurry of profanities under their breath. And then, the feather suddenly turned too heavy for the scale. Morgan and Bopara fell in quick succession to slump to a choke which would have made even South Africa go green with envy. And then we got to see some of the most enthusiastic and grotesque running-between-the-wickets cricket has shown us till date. The bowler appealing for a leg before, the batsman scampering for a single, the close-in fielder scurrying after the ball to effect a run out- chaos broke out at Edgbaston. David Lloyd was shouting from the commentary box, “Can’t believe this is an international team!” The English were buckling under pressure. India had turned the choke on England.

       Jadeja didn't give any room to whack the ball and Ashwin continued to flummox the tail-enders, with the pitch turning square and the ball Shane Warne-esque , and when the inevitable moment finally arrived, Dhoni vented out his emotions and quickly uprooted another stump for his souvenir collection.

      To me, Dhoni’s words at the post-match presentation were inspiring and summed it all. “I just told the boys, don’t look up at the skies. The Gods are not coming to save us. We are the no. 1 team and let’s play like one.” It was not only the voice of the young Indian team but also embodied the spirit of the Indian youth. The era of Tendulkars, Dravids and Laxmans is gone. This team is faceless. There are no stars; the batsmen play fearlessly, the bowlers hunt in a pack and all the players stand firmly behind their skipper. If you are going to bowl short, we are going to pull you out of the park. If you are going to play foul and indulge in some sledging, you are going to get most of it back.

     The glory was, in itself, immaculate and complete, but somewhere I was missing the sight of Sachin Tendulkar pumping his fist and celebrating like a child. Never mind. Nothing lasts forever. He must be proud. And Ravi Shastri too. For at the end of the day, ‘cricket was the winner.’

                

A Fever of Ice and Fire

I write an account of an obsession that has completely taken me over and is not likely to subside very soon.

Game of Thrones is a TV series, based on A Song of Ice and Fire, a series of books written by George R R Martin, the first book of which is called A Game of Thrones.

How I came across it

Half a year ago, in a Quiz held at the institute, I stumbled upon what was allegedly a huge cultural phenomenon, called Game of Thrones. The quiz question had something to do with the TV show, and contestants answered correctly, as if it too obvious. Except that it didn't seem quite so obvious to me. It must be something enormous in significance, I thought, if it was part of a Quiz, and several people seemed to have heard of it. I decided to look into it. And I haven't looked back since.

About the show

Game of Thrones is based in the Medieval Era, in a civilization in which certain crude phenomena like death, torture and violence are almost a routine. A man would sooner have your head than a piece of your mind. The show is about survival in such a society. The said civilization is also not entirely factual, but laced with mysteries, magical creatures, prophecies and superhuman beings. There are krakens, dragons, elks, giants, mammoths and the like.  There exists a great struggle for power over the seven great kingdoms of the continent of Westeros, while a worse, more vicious power hangs over the continent threatening to wipe it out entirely. The plot of the series touches highly volatile issues like child abuse, incest, infidelity and brutality.

What I like about Game of Thrones

Getting the obvious out of the way, I have always had a fascination for English TV shows, especially British media (BBC's Sherlock, the Harry Potter series, etc.).

The most poignant reason for my liking, are the characters. None of them is entirely good, and none entirely evil. They have a well-defined past, and equally ambiguous ambitions. They’re not like the everyday hero who has his teeth sunk deep in a single goal. Some struggle to maintain their honor  and yet have questionable pasts, while others are vicious, ruthless, but every once in a while you see a human side to them which surprises so pleasantly that you can’t not watch more of it. A character is written so meticulously, that one would completely understand why they did something, and are not left puzzled. 

I see various beloved characters put to the knife, only to realize that an honorable path does not always ensure glory. I hoot at witty one-liners, and whistle at sharp comebacks. I pray to keep the admirable characters out of harm’s way, and curse vile ones, wishing for them to be given a ruthless death. And so do countless other viewers, when they watch Game of Thrones.

I’m not kidding when I say I can’t get enough of it. When I’m not watching it, I’m reading it. When I’m not reading it, I’m tweeting about it while its OST plays in the background. And when I’m doing neither, I write a blogpost about it.

Follow @AngryNerrd

Winds of Change

                The Indian summer is almost through. I stand by the window gazing sheepishly at the sun-burnt yellow sky, a cup of coffee in one hand and Dan Brown’s ‘Inferno’ in the other. Twilight threatens to obliterate the last of the sun’s specks of light and somewhere on the horizon stars illuminate the tranquil skyline like miniscule shards of light. Progressive rock blares from the speakers, a new find of mine to keep me company during the lonely summer days. Responsibilities have been taken care of; there are no assignments to be completed or quizzes to be prepared for, there is neither a modicum of fatigue nor a trace of worrisome thoughts. My mind is a void. I feel unusually empty; normally there’s a train of thoughts running in my mind- fiction novels, movies, theoretical physics- it encompasses a wide variety of topics ranging from the most mundane to serious career-influencing decisions. Today begs to differ. For winds of change have blown away the morning mist of childhood and the dust cloud of adolescence; teenage is in extremis, waiting to be enveloped by a blanket of dreams and the shining beacon of adulthood.

                Homecoming has been bittersweet. Though my family dotes on me and even as I enjoy the warmth of my home, I miss my life at the not-so-distant Powai- dolce vita in the truest sense of the word. Bidding adieu to home was not too arduous a task. Joie de vivre of hostel life more than compensated for the distance from my family. Like-minded friends, opulence of learning opportunities and the mixed bag of freedom and assiduousness maintain a firm vice-like grip on me. It has been a whirlwind year- gargantuan changes, new people and most importantly a fresh start.

                So, where do we go now? An important thing I have noticed so far is that old bonds are slackening. Mind you, this does not even slightly mean that I am forgetting the debts of gratitude I owe to scores of people, mainly my family who have chiselled me from a greenhorn to a near-mature adult. It’s just that the cocoon of comfort and convention is slowly starting to give away. Until recently, parents have played a formidable role in shaping our lives. Now, we are more or less on our own. Somewhere, the family thread is being pulled taut. Carte blanche rests with us; our efforts henceforth will determine if we build castles on this foundation stone or dig graves for ourselves in its place. So, shrug off the cobwebs of pessimism and wake up to a new life of liberty and ambitions. Seize the day, for the deeds of the present are the architect of your future. Stand by your choices and glean the fruits of perseverance and conviction. Let’s raise a toast to the future that beckons!

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The Game- The hour I lived!

I wanted a headline a bit more crazy because a game with a world champion of chess does not happen everyday. It unequivocally deserved a better headline but then there are some things in life when least emphasized has more effect. I exert my mind to find words that could denote the game I played with WORLD CHAMPION V.Anand. While writing this piece it still sends shivers to my spines, nerves and gives pain to my arteries. I think it does even more than that. Freezes the brain itself.

Lead up to the article- Let me rewind a little bit how the actual idea of writing an article on the game came up.

25th Jan 2013- Our new blog has started and with the two IITians Niranjan and Sapan (let's make it IIT-B; "more effect") and one BITsian in the team. ( Now Pranav has joined our team too and its a privilege to work and interact with them) It's always difficult to keep up with them, their ideas and I was scratching my head to find something lucrative for me to write. I knew somewhere that this article would definitely be on chess because that just define's me!

26th Jan 2013- After having an exhaustive Republic day where I went to my old school, revived some memories, met some of my friends and Mumbai's hectic train commute I was exhausted and didn't have part of my body which could keep me awake beyond 1130 pm. As usual with the teenagers these days I woke up at 3am just to check Whatsapp messages, BBMs and Twitter updates.

And then in a group discussion involving my co-authors Sapan, Aditya and Niranjan, Sapan suggested me the idea of writing an article on my game with Vishy Anand. BLIMEY! IITians to the rescue again!

I was like okay, kept the phone away and started trying to sleep "as usual" .. WTF. I was trying to recollect the game, the moments leading to the game and then the actual meeting with one of the genius that has ever graced the country. ( I hope Sapan's sleep will still be haunted for a like a day or two) and then I couldn't stop myself from getting up and writing this article!

So at 3am I start writing this article. Crazy as the game chess, crazy as me.

Even though I have a awful memory ( Irony of my life) .I still have vague but bright memories of match I played with Mr. Vishy in 2000 just after he became World Champion in 2000 in Tehran , Iran. Anand won his first world title beating Spaniard Alexei Shirov in the final. It was a knockout tournament held in two cities. New Delhi hosted the knockout and the final was held in Iran.

Lead up to the game-

I remember I won a school tourney (My colleague Aditya was part of it too) in Dombivli (My hometown), a tense sixth round game which I won and got the tittle. So after winning the tournament my mom comes walk's up to me and says, “Son, since you have won the tournament your gift is you are going to meet Mr. Vishy Anand. I looked up to my mom and said, "Are you like kidding me"? (Definitely I would have not said it this way but something more equivalent to it I presume)

Then with some train travels, going to Bhandup ( I eventually found out later that it was Anand's brother's place) I was sitting on a sofa waiting for the world champion to arrive and surprise, stump and shock me. Even up to this point I was not genuinely believing that I was going to meet Mr. Vishy Anand. THE VISHY ANAND?

And then Mr. Vishy Anand comes from that corridor walks upto me and gives me a handshake. My eyes lits up like a 3 year old kid after seeing an ice-cream.

I could not believe he was Anand. COULD JUST NOT BELIEVE. I had to pinch myself hard, pretty hard just to make sure it was a dream? NO. I have met Vishy Anand! THE VISHY ANAND :)

Even though I had no idea what life meant at the moment I thought I have lived it all! The bespectacled man looked at me, I was shy (eyes straight down) and trying to sink that moment in. And yes I was fisting my hands that "I did it".(And Anand noticed that) It was some sort of achievement, perhaps maybe better than being a World Champion!

The Game- With all the numbness, dumbness, awesomeness surrounding me my mom popped out the idea of me playing a game with the World Champion. My hands went cold, heart stopped pumping and I looked up to him and gave a wry smile thinking "You cant beat me! I just won a tournament!"

I arranged the pieces slowly, precisely, keeping the pieces at the center of the square (at that moment everything mattered) and took the white pieces without asking him and giving him the look " I am the kid! Let me atleast have that color. ( I did that, certainly)

What was I doing at that point of time? Half of my queenside is already cleaned up.

Anand's Birthday party. We were invited after the Indian Youth Team won the World Championship
Me, Adhiban(The red shirt), Sethuraman (Behind Aruna Anand), Shyam Sundar and Priyadarshan were part of the team 

 Moment to savor for the rest of my life.

I played 1.e4, he played c5 (Normally when you play c5 from black these gentleman is going to play for double-edged positions. I had this vague theory when I was young and later realized how vast chess is ) and he played the scheveingen defence. I blitzed my theory knowledge to almost 17 moves ( I was proud about that when I was young but today it all looks elementary where the computers have taken the preparation a notch higher) He was playing fast, I tried to match him by playing at his speed but you cant keep it up with the speed king for a long time. After a while, I simply missed a tactic lost a pawn and gradually the game. The game duration was for more than an hour. THE hour I lived ;)

After obviously losing the game, Anand gave me a pep talk. The one advice which sets apart from the rest is "You should practice chess as you brush your teeth everyday". Simple but effective. These words were going to be etched in my mind forever.

After that I have had many encounters with Anand and the feeling maybe has sunk in. But that day it was distinctive. The day which could change the course of my life.

If you are chess player and an Indian then Mr. Vishy Anand is a GOD to you. You meet Gods in your dreams and as people say in heaven. But it was a bit different for me. IT WAS A REALITY ;)

People have asked me billions of times what inspired me to play chess and here is my answer to all.So here I am completing the article at 5am and signing off!

P.S - Due to technical glitches, my French rendezvous and Semester exams I had to publish my article now.

Prasanna Rao
International Master, India

The Demon's Laugh

I've been away. From writing, from reading anything useful, from being productive at all. I've spent the last month slacking, watching Game of Thrones, reading novels, and most of all, sleeping. And as the first month of my two-and-a-half-months' long holidays comes to an end, the alarm clock sounds. "Do something," it says, over and over again. Here I am, 'doing something.' 

Like me, this blog has been hibernating, and I need to write. To fulfill this twofold purpose, I begin my next blog post. I'm not being productive at all, though. This is something I wrote a long time ago. Something I wanted to share. I fancied myself as someone who loved to write. As it turns out, I have barely scratched the surface of the world of writing. I tried to write fiction and fell flat on my face. This is my second attempt, please do bear with me.

A little background on this short story. The institute had a creative writing session, which I attended. They asked us to write the base for a play. There were four themes, and while I do not remember them all, the one I chose was 'Yeh Padosi Bhi Na!' So, here goes:

The Demon's Laugh

She looked beautiful, dressed in a light blue Salwar Suit. She was nervous, and couldn't look into my eyes. Small pleasures, I thought; I couldn't have said what I wanted to, had she been staring at me. What the heck, I figured, closed my eyes, clenched my fist and blurted out, 'Will you marry me?'

A hint of a smile flickered on her face, or was it? Definitely a smile, I thought, as it grew. In seconds that felt like years, the smile widened into a grin and then to a laugh. The laugh grew too, louder and louder as my jaw dropped. She was mocking me. Her voice then turned manlier, like one of those judges on the stand-up comedy show. Kill me, kill me now, I said to myself. I blacked out in an instant, thankful for having escaped from that nightmare. And it was just that.

I lay on my bed, I had woken up with a start. Unluckily for me, the laughter hadn't stopped. It still went strong, loud and clear. As the last threads of sleep faded, recognition kicked in.

'Damn you, Shakti!' I swore, as loud as I could. Nothing changed.

Shakti Dhillon, as a punishment for the sins of my last life, was my neighbor. Ofttimes, he invited half a dozen friends over, God knows how late in the night, got drunk, and made a racket.

I had thought of countless ways to silence this fellow. Some as kind as requesting him gently, and some as harsh as calling the cops on him. In my head I had figured out more, ahem, permanent solutions. Slitting the throat neat, strangling him with a chain till his screams died out, right up to torching him alive. How I wish I could see him running up and down the street, while aflame, hands flailing like they could drop any moment. Now that I think of it, I might have watched a lot of violent movies.

'Never anger a drunk Sardar,' warned my colleague whenever I complained about Shakti and expressed my desire of giving him a piece of my mind. But this had been the last straw. Waking me up when I'm dreaming of her?! Not even a drunk Sardar could get away with that. I kicked away my blanket, raced to the kitchen and picked up the largest knife I could find. Thank God for big knives, I thought, as I felt full of guts with the 6 inch steel in my hand.

I barged in, through Shakti's open door, right up to where he lay lazily on his couch. He was startled, and so was his entourage. I summoned my badass voice, after wondering for a split second if I had one. 'You will zip this bigass mouth of yours when I'm sleeping, Dhillon, or else!' I bellowed, pointing the edge of the knife right beneath his chin, 'or else I will make sure it stays shut forever!'

He shivered; or it seemed to me as if he did. For my satisfaction, I'd even say, a tear escaped from his eye. I turned on my heel, left immediately, without so much as a glance towards his company. I couldn't stop and see if my words had made an impact. On my way out, I thought I heard a low pitched 'sorry.'

The next morning, I saw Shakti. In a small voice, he asked how I had slept.

'Like a log!' I replied, 'but the doctor says I might have started sleepwalking.'