#63NotOut

image

The un-hateable Man.
The prodigy who had a fault in his stars.
The man who will forever remain 63 not out.
Cricket’s own son.
Philip Joel Hughes.

He started his life with a passion for cricket.
Life left him, standing tall, having faced all odds and still playing the game he loved; Living his dream.
His whole life spanned the 22 yards and his legacy will carry on, Forever.

The youngest man to hit 2 centuries in both innings of a test match.
The person Australians had hope on to carry on the mantle of Australian captains.
A loyal friend.
A loving son.
A gentleman.

He lost his life to a freak delivery. And tears were shed by cricketers and cricket lovers all around. The tears shed are testimony to the great man that Phil Hughes was. It is testimony to how much Cricket’s prodigal son will be missed.

Amidst this outpouring of grief, one must not forget Sean Abbott. As Sean took his delivery stride to bowl that fateful ball, little must he have known as to what will follow later.
An innocuous ball.
Everything changes.
We can only imagine the pain Sean Abbott must be going through. It was absolutely no fault of his and this fact must be reiterated always.

Do not pity the dead, Harry.
Pity the loving and above all, those who live without love.
~Albus Dumbledore 

Sean Abbott requires all the love he needs right now. He must know that it wasn’t his fault and his guilt in his mind, must be reduced as much as possible.

Phil Hughes will always be remembered.
The man who will forever remain 63 not out.
Cricket’s own son.
R.I.P Philip Joel Hughes.

Advertisements

Time.

image

Time.
A simple word,
Encompassing a grandiose scale.
Forever it runs, never ceasing,
Catch up with it you may,
Keep up? Nay, never.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Time.
An existential question,
Always and forever,
A fabric of the Universe?
Or with beginning and end,
Doomed forever?

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Time.
A world of meaning,
In a single Word.
Dynamic, pulsating, unfettered?
Negative,
Calm. Composed. Linear.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Time.
Outside the Boundaries?
Or, The Boundaries?
May not know,
^Reason why it appears,
Complex.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Time.
Affects people.
The fabric around which,
Lives revolve.
A Constant. All – encompassing.
Unchanging.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Time.
A definition by itself.
Question it you may,
Answers you get? None.
It simply,
Exists.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Analisque#1

People.
Complex creatures with feelings and emotions.
The World around us comprises of people.
Excluding the average lunatic living in the forest, we all live in a Society; a society made up of people, and no matter how hard we try we cannot avoid interacting with people.
We are Social Animals.

Therefore, in this scenario, it becomes imperative for us to learn to interact with Humans. To learn to influence Humans. To learn to deal with Humans.
In this process of learning, one will learn about themselves, because ultimately we too, are Humans.
Necessary much?

This series of blog posts will be my studies on People and the results.
Studying People, I call it. The results may be the most obvious ones, the most blatant, everybody-knows-it ones. However, bear with me, because I am starting anew.

Humans are typically two-fold.
The Physical and the Mental.
I will be focussing on the Mental part here. The part where Minds come into play.
Minds. ^_^
Complex, swirly whirly, amazing creations of God.
Unique, fantastic and tremendously interesting.
Minds. ^_^

The Epitome of Gentlemanliness

image

Rahul Dravid.
Rahul Sharad Dravid.
The Wall.

In today’s world, the word ‘Great’ is bandied about without much thought. One swashbuckling innings or one amazing performance; and a person is characterised as ‘Great’.
Therefore, it becomes a necessity to search for better adjectives to describe a person. ‘Legend’ can be safely discarded. There are many legends floating around.
Dravid is more than that.

God?
Can one consider bestowing the title ‘God’ on Rahul Dravid? Consider him on equal footing with Sachin Tendulkar?
I don’t think so.

Sachin was bestowed the title ‘God’ purely based on cricketing talent. His straight drive might be Beautiful. His cuts might be exquisite. His cover driver might be a treat to watch.
However, the fact remains that Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar was bestowed with the title ‘God’ purely based on cricketing talent.

Well, Rahul Dravid is more than that. :’)
He doesn’t limit himself to Cricket. He exists outside that.
He inspires us with his personality.
He steals our hearts with his charisma.
He epitomes all the qualities the game of Cricket seeks to bring out.
Determination.
Selflessness.
Humility.

He was a man who existed Outside the Boundaries.
It isn’t fitting that we limit him with the title ‘God’
He is more. He is Great. He is Legendary. He is God.
He is Rahul. Sharad. Dravid. _/|\_

One might ask, what’s it with him that makes him stand out? Well, I could talk for days and days about the qualities that make him unique and it still wouldn’t be enough.

However, I will say one thing though.
Some people might call Rahul Dravid a genius.
I vehemently disagree. Calling Dravid a genius is insulting.
Genii are people who have a natural talent within them and don’t need much practice to flourish.
Sachin Tendulkar was a genius.
Brian Lara was a genius.
Ricky Ponting was a genius.

Rahul Dravid was a common man. He was a man who put in the hard yards to succeed. He would get up in the middle of the night and shadow practice trying to achieve perfection. He would be the first one to come to the practice session and the last one to leave. He never missed the optional practice sessions.
He took his game seriously.
He kept on learning. From the age of 9 to the age of 40.
He strived. To achieve perfection.
He was one of Us. Ordinaries.
He is now one of Them. Genii.

He serves as a reminder that all of Us can reach great heights if only we put in dedicated hard work.
Pure, unadulterated hard work.

An Ordinary to a Genius.
Rahul Dravid.

Constitutional TRap

This is hilarious! x’D

Doing Jalsa & Showing Jilpa

Two years ago, Harish and yours truly were inspired by someone whose every utterance enriches the creative commons of Indian culture. We decided to call ourselves Parodesy Noise, which to Tamil ears sounds like an American way of saying “Canines from across the ocean” and also suggests, at the same time, a focus on parody while musically remixing things many people consider must not be remixed.

Now, for the first time, I am going to take you through the creative process behind our latest single. For me, Parodesy Noise is what comes out of a heartfelt joy I experience when losing myself in the creative process. It’s not the relevance, popularity or artistic class of the output that matters as much as how much fun I had while combining humour and music.

The band is a three-man duo, with Harish, yours truly and T Rajendar (a.k.a TR) in spirit.

View original post 876 more words

My Deepest Fear

*Disclaimer* NOT A POEM. I initially set out to write my first poem but it waved, said Tata bye bye, and turned off course so I think it’s a quasi-poem now. No rhyme scheme, no meter, no order, no structure; Nothing. Just what I felt at that moment :p

I visit websites, I ask friends
I draw endless doodles with my pen
Thinking…

What exactly to write in a poem?
Your first achievement? Your many regrets?
Happiness? Sadness?
What the hell should you write in a poem?

Suddenly shining through the hazy mist,
I get it. Suffice it will I think, my way,
Penning yourself is the way to go about it.

So as I sit down and delve into myself,
The universe comes to a standstill around me,
As I contemplate about me.

No doing. It has to ask that doesn’t it?
I can’t stop it. My brain comes up with that question,
That integral question which I just can’t answer…

Who am I?
Siddharth? Easy enough. But No,
That’s not the answer.
I know for certain, I’m not the Siddharth of old.

As I sift through the memories
Turning the pages of my life,
I find many Siddharths
Some grinning, some laughing,
Some crying, some regretting…
Happy. Depressed. Normal. Maniacal.

Is this who I am?

No…
As I try to search for me; the real Me,
I grow confused.
All I can see,
All I can discern through the growing chasm,
Is a shadow… A many personalitied hybrid of me.
Getting fainter by the minute…

I catch hold of myself; to no avail,
He is slowly disappearing.

I now read through what I’ve written.
A poem? God, definitely not a poem.
What I’ve written is my deepest fear…
My primal unwavering fear
Of who I’ll turn out to be…

I set out in the beginning to pen who I am.
I know now that I’ve failed.
I don’t know. I just can’t explain myself…

Now, as I set down my pen, my eyes moist,
All I can do is hope.
Hope that I don’t wander too far away from my path.
Hope that I improve and never degrade.
Hope that I remain Siddharth…

20131117-221643.jpg