Correspondent at large

After a little more than 100 posts over three and a half years, cosmicdebris has moved here. Only the blog's now called correspondent at large. See you there!

Roger & Rafael: a burgeoning rivalry

Just when I was thinking it would be better to watch Aisam Qureshi (because he volleys on grass) than all those baseline bashers with titles, Nadal and Federer served up a treat at the final. The first five-setter at a Wimbledon final since 2001 when Goran Ivanisevic beat Patrick Rafter was everything a Grand Slam final should be - fast, furious and unbelievably close.

In the end, like tradition demands it at the home of tennis, the usurper had to be content with second place. Federer bawled like a baby after putting away Championship Point and promptly added on a white blazer and white pants. (The wrong way round, according to a few reports)! Who said Wimbledon doesn't make you do quirky things"! And when Federer congratulated Nadal for having made it to a 2nd final in a row, he managed not to sound condescending.

Though Federer reminded us that he had the touch even at the net, it was Nadal who was the revelation. He showed that he could out-volley the champion and unfurl incredible passing shots on grass. The intensity of play did not drop even in the final set. Five-setters tend to be tiring for the viewer as well, especially when the two players are sluggish after giving it their all. But this wasn't so because the points were short. Thankfully, we were spared tedious rallies with both players unafraid to rush towards the net. A brief summary for those who missed the match:

First set 7-6 to Federer. Nadal saves 4 set points in the tie-break, but Federer smashes a back hand volley to end the matter. Absolutely loved the angles Nadal was getting in, he must have rubber wrists!

Second set 6-4 to Nadal. Federer snuffs out two break points with three aces cool as you plesae to make it three games all. But at 4-5, serving to stay in the set, Nadal rushes forward to break him. A wrinkle of two appears on Federer's forehead.

Third set 7-6 to Federer. Unbelievable intensity. Am checking The Guardian's website commentary on the match, while watching the battle on TV. They quote Jimmy Connors on BBC, "if either player drops their level by as much as two percent, they will be totally overrun". Federer quickly ratchets up a lead in the tie-breaker and duly closes the third set out.

Fourth set 6-2 to Nadal. Hold on! Quick as a flash, Nadal snatches a break in the first game of the fourth set and before you realize it, breaks Federer again to go up 3-love. Federer intensely irritated, says 'shit' within range of the umpire's microphone. The marginal calls continue to go Nadal's way, is Hawkeye conspiring against the Champion" Alan Wilkins says something like this on commentary, "Nadal is like Joe Frasier was against Mohammed Ali, he keeps coming at Federer."

Fifth set 6-2 to Federer and with it the match! Both players are moving very well. Federer continues to rely on his serve to bail him out and Nadal is still whipping out passing shots that are hard to comprehend; Nadal also continues to come to the net. Vijay Amritraj in mock-discovery mode, "he likes to volley!" But Federer has begun to lift his levels. He breaks Nadal, his game getting tougher and tougher to match as he rides the momentum. Championship Point is upon us before we know it, and Federer ends it with a smash. Whatta match!

This piece was originally posted here.

MBA degrees for Page 3 gals?

Time magazine's cover story on media mogul Rupert Murdoch's bid for the Wall Street Journal reveals his own viewpoint on what a journalist should be like. Murdoch, in the report,

"...has always said that craving respectability is the beginning of the end for a journalist. 'Journalists should think of themselves as outside the Establishment, and owners can't be too worried about what they're told at their country clubs,' says the man who influences Prime Ministers and Presidents and still poses as a scrappy outsider."

Here's an admission - respectability is what I'm after. I chase after it, turning a blind eye to the need to break stories or what I believe will be half-baked stories. I'm not prolific enough, for fear of filing a report that 'compromises' me. Murdoch's words jolted me, because I realise now that I've often confused respectability for credibility. Credibility is what you get when you're constantly on the field - respectability has nothing to do with it. Just like a journalist needs to have a healthy disregard for all that's fed to him, so must he be wary of being too timid in going after those who've stepped over the line. Do those words resonate in you?

Not that I'm endorsing Murdoch - his reputation for editorial interference precedes him. But perhaps we've been guilty of demonizing him too. Read the entire cover. Before I sign-off, another mischievous quote from him,

'..Murdoch wouldn't be Murdoch if he didn't love sticking it to sanctimonious J-school toffs. "When the Journal gets its Page 3 girls," he jokes late one night, "we'll make sure they have M.B.A.s"...'

How to create comic strips

I've always wondered how comic strips are created. It turns out now that all you need to do is get yourself a banana, diet coke, cat and the right kind of computer. Hard time believing me?! It's all in the Dilbertblog.

On average, you're mean

I suppose all those fusty, badly-dressed statisticians get to revel in their profession and throw up puns like the one on the title of this post, for at least one day. Mark your calendars, for its day after tomorrow - National Statistical Day. How many professions even have their own day?

Number crunchers can thank a shadowy figure from history, one whose name was virtually unpronouncable, at least until I found he was Bengali. Prof. Prasanta Chandra Mahalanobis was born on this day, June 29th, 1893. He founded the Indian Statistical Institute and is even named after a statistical principle - Mahalanobis distance (click at your own peril!).

The reason I'm referring to him, is that he was the architect of India's 2nd five-year plan (1956-61) which took India towards industrialization. The period we're talking about resulted in the building of massive dams, steel plants and power plants - all the building blocks of modern India. The country took turns that were to influence society, economy, politics and foriegn relations for a better part of 40 years. Of course, many of the above 'achievements' had unintended consequences and there is much debate today about the effectiveness of following such a policy.

Yes, I continue to be influenced by Ramachandra Guha's India after Gandhi.

'If he is a bastard, at least he is our bastard'

Q. Who said this? And how does it explain why India tilted towards Russia, despite Nehru's original non alignment stance?

A. Ramachandra Guha, in his comprehensive history of India after independence, attributes this statement to John Foster Dulles, the secretary of state when Nehru visited America in 1949. During the Cold War, the US was suspicious of any nation that said it was neutral ("if he's not with us, then he's against us"). Guha writes,

"Generally speaking, dictators who toed the American line were to be preferred to democrats who didn't"

Nehru is quoted as well in one the letters he wrote to K P S Menon in 1947,

"We must be friendly to both and yet not join either. Both America and Russia are extraordinarily suspicious of each other as well as of other countries. This makes our path difficult and we may well be suspected by each of leaning towards the other. This cannot be helped. "

As Nehru feared, the US grew increasingly suspicious of India. Dulles offended India by suggesting that Portugal could continue to keep its colony in Goa as long as it chose to. And he was instrumental in signing a pact with Pakistan in 1954, further alienating India. Guha also suggests that,

"Nehru's vigorous canvassing of the recognition of the People's Republic of China, and his insistence that it be given the permanent seat in the UN Security Council...was also not taken to kindly by Washington".

So now I know a little more about what had been a mystery to me. Of course, Guha explains that Nehru's false reading of Russia's intentions (perhaps fired by his idealism) led to India gravitating towards the Reds. No doubt there are a cocktail of reasons that dictated India's choices just after independence, but Guha's book is a good starting point.

Anatomy of an apology

Tim Harford's column on apologies (link via India Uncut) reminded me of what I'd learnt soon after landing up in Delhi for a new job in news. I'm sorry, I said to my boss one day, after committing a pronunciation mistake of the sort one tends to see a lot on TV (I said kaun-stituency instead of constituency).

The incident itself wasn't of much importance, but my ready apology surprised him, and I could almost see his mental gears shifting. His new opinion of me seemed to be that I was a pushover. Bad mistake. Days later, I was told someone else would be in charge of our team, although I had the relevant experience.

Alright, it's an apocryphal example, that story. The actual facts are far more complicated. But the point is that an apology has its costs as well as benefits. To quote from Harford's column,

"... apologies make us more likable but also make us seem incompetent - an intuitive response backed up by psychological research. For example, the psychologists Fiona Lee and Lara Tiedens showed subjects some edited footage of Bill Clinton talking about the Lewinsky affair.
After viewing the clips in which Clinton seemed apologetic, the subjects said they liked him more but respected him less. This suggests that an apology is not cheap talk at all: it represents a choice to appear loveable but bumbling. The alternative is to admit nothing and look like a competent hard-man..."

My own view of an apology is simply: if I'm wrong, I should apologise. The trouble arises when I'm only partly wrong. My habit is to acknowledge my mistake even if my part in the 'error' committed is so minuscule so as to warrant no apology. Consequently, I apologise when I shouldn't be doing so. And to let off the set of frustrations that go with behaving in that fashion, I don't apologise when I should be. I'm trying to be a little more sparing in my manner now, but I wonder what all this has done to my image.

The final word in this topic should belong to my wife of 6 months, to whom I've probably apologised to a thousand times. I ask her what she thinks of my habit. She says, "you don't ever apologise, you only offer justifications".

Ah well, whatever.

Dear reader...

It's not like I've stopped writing out my thoughts. The reason I'd stopped publishing them was because I wanted the writing to be less self-indulgent. Having tried out blogs related to specific topics in the hunt for more focus, I think I've arrived at a compromise. I'll still write about anything that's fit to print (with apologies to the New York Times), but hopefully with greater purpose.

Aussies champs, viewers champs

A bizarre moment during the World Cup final pretty much summed up all the coverage by SET Max through the tournament. Cutting back to action from a commercial break, we were treated to a celebrating Australia in the 33rd over of the Sri Lankan run chase. Apparently, the Lankan batsmen had accepted an offer to walk off because of bad light with three overs to go (in a 38-overs-a-side-final), sparking off premature celebrations in the Aussie camp. Of course, we didn't know that, because we were watching the ads.
Many moments later, the channel did it again; just when Australia were about to take off with the World Cup trophy, they cut into Charu Sharma, Mandira Bedi and co.
Cricket nuts would agree I'm sure; that the coverage this world cup has been appalling, and we're not just talking about the final.
To further embellish the point, there are two specific areas where TV audiences have been ripped off; all in all adding up to 200 causes for irritation each night in a match of 100 overs. I'm talking about the beginning and the end of each over.
At the end of each over, the folks at SET Max would switch to the ads the moment the batsman in question hit the last ball. So diligent in their task were they, that many times they cut into the ads before a run was completed. And if the last ball were a boundary - there would be no replay before or after the ad break. An example: when Australian captain Ricky Ponting unfurled two gorgeous drives in the 2nd and 4th over during the semifinal match against South Africa.
Some may say I'm nitpicking here, but take a look at what would invariably happen when the channel cut back to action. Captain setting the field? Cut to a model peddling a liquour brand, (asking you what your 'score' is). Change of bowler? Time to remind us that some newspaper is now No 1 in Punjab. So in the space of seconds, it would be back and forth between the cricket and advertisements - the viewer be dammed.
That isn't all - action replays would have advertising 'bands' obscuring a catch. These bands would even come in the way of a player close-up.
Were we watching cricket, or advertisements with cricket 'breaks'? Forgive me for not knowing the answer.
Of course, this isn't how it should be. Among other things, cricket is a game of anticipation & pauses, and much of the story plays itself out between deliveries. Killing a tense captain-wicketkeeper conference at the beginning of an over, or a change-of-ball, or a bowler change with advertisements takes away half the fun of the game. I'm sure there are many of you who agree.
I'm registering this protest in the hope that something will be done about the way cricket is presented in the next series. Sports channels cannot easily be made accountable in the present system. The BCCI which has sold the rights, may not want to dictate terms to broadcasters, and perhaps better coverage is not even legally enforceable. But you have an option - the remote.

This article was originally posted here.

An open letter to Ten Sports

I'm livid. You deprived me of the pleasure of watching a gripping match, by cutting into ads at crucial points. Yes, I said DURING the match, the US Open semifinal between Andy Roddick and Michail Youzhny.
I'm especially angry because you chose to dip into those ads, when the third set tie-breaker was on - during what could be termed the turning point of the match. The two players are tied a set apiece, and what happens - you cut into those miserable ads. And this wasn't the first time during the match mind you. And this wasn't the first match you've done this during this year's US Open too.

I'm tempted to say I will never use those products you advertised during that match. Yes, yes those disgusting catchlines are still repeating with annoying consistency in my head still. But of course, you know that I may not be able to stick to my promise. Better still, would be to boycott your channel. But then of course, I'm just one sports buff, among the millions in this country. My only hope is that, others who (didn't) saw this match would feel that same.

Cheers to your staggeringly insensitive policy. I hope you rot in hell.

Just wondering...

...what I should do with the blog. Am loathe to let it go. Yes, I'm writing little snippets here and there, but the reason I haven't really updated this blog is because I've been thinking lately that my writing should be more focussed. But I weeeel be back!

Kannada vs Tamil, English vs Hindi

Ever spoken in Kannada when asking for a film ticket in one of the theatres in Bangalore's M G Road area? If you have, you might have experienced what I did; a slight sense of embarrassment resulting in an immediate switch to English.
I think this is part of the Tamil vs Kannada, English vs Hindi syndrome in Bangalore, and it affects just about everyone.

You probably have felt something like this too; if you've lived in Bangalore for a while. You've probably either been the initiator, or have been at the receiving end of a sort of parochialism, like in the Oscar-winning film Crash.

Let me put down something before I proceed further - I'm a Bangalorean in the sense that I am a Kannadiga and grew up in the city until I left at the age of 21. That was about 6 years ago. I was your typical 'mannina maga', somewhat scared of asserting my roots when I was younger and have in the last 5 years or so, begun embracing Kannada.


Being Kannadiga

There is a simmering discontent among Kannadigas here; after all they are a marginalized lot in Bangalore. Some surveys peg the Kannadiga population at 31 percent in Bangalore. Add to this the fact that Bangalore is the capital of Karnataka or 'Kannada Nadu', and you see where the anger is coming from. Forum in Koramangala, Garuda Mall in Margrath Road or Bangalore Central near Mayo Hall are the preferred hang-out zones for many in the city these days. Walk down the aisles or up the escalators in these gleaming steel monsters and you will not hear much Kannada spoken.
I believe there are two major reasons for this: native Bangaloreans (Kannada, Tamil, Telugu, etc.) still prefer to shop in a Jayanagar 4th block or a Malleswaram 8th cross, so most people in malls are usually 'fresh of the boat' and almost always from the North of the Vindhyas. Two, Kannadigas still tend to speak in English in public. There is some sense of shame, embarrassment or some other emotion at work here.

Tamil vs Kannada

For most Bangaloreans this issue is, as they say, as old as the hills. Kannadigas and Tamilians have been fighting in public and have been friends in private for many a decade in 'nammooru'. I've had many friends, but for some quirky reasons, all my close friends in Bangalore have been Tamilians.
During the Cauvery riots in the early 90s we didn't have any issues. Yet, this is one struggle that I expect will go on for a while, because there appears to be historical reasons behind the divide. Janaki Nair's excellent piece Battles for Bangalore: Reterritorialising the City sums it up rather neatly:

"More striking were the linguistic and cultural distinctions between the zones, since the Cantonment had attracted a large number of camp followers from Tamil speaking areas of the neighbouring Madras Presidency. Consequently, the Kannada language's restricted presence in the city was only altered in two decades of somewhat spectacular demographic growth, the decade of 1941-1951 when the population grew by 100 per cent, and the decade of 1971-81 when the city grew by 76 per cent. The city drew more migrants from districts within the state after the 1950s, significantly altering the linguistic map of the city"

So Tamilians can claim to have as much a right on Bangalore as Kannadigas. It is true though, that many Tamilians prefer to speak in their native tongue, even while talking to Kannadigas.
Try asking for directions in Frazer town. But equally, Kannadigas lose no opportunity in clamouring for the city to 'swept clean of Tamils'.
I actually think the whole Tamil vs Kannada issue is not such a big deal. Some people (not all of them politicians) tend to manipulate the residents of Bangalore to suit their own purposes.

English vs Hindi

If there is one issue that unites all Bangaloreans, it is the sight of someone from the cow belt, clamouring for directions in Hindi, and expecting to be answered back in their tongue. I was once tempted into asking a couple of slightly rude teenagers on a bike to speak in English. These days, Hindi is spoken pretty much everywhere in Bangalore. The prevailing feeling here has been more elegantly paraphrased before, but let me interpret it rather plainly: 'just because Hindi is the national language, it doesn't give anyone the right to expect a South Indian or Bengali to speak Hindi in Bangalore.'

Make no mistake, I don't think anyone wants a polarized world. As for me, I certainly don't dislike Hindi; after all I work in Delhi and have picked up Hindi. And like many Bangaloreans I like good Tamil songs, would love to be able to speak Telugu and Malayalam. In an ideal world, I'd like us Bangaloreans to be as we once were as kids. My mum would watch Mukta or Moodala Mane on ETV Kannada with as much enthusiasm as Kasauti Zindagi Ki on Star Plus. And I would proudly tell my cousins from America that only in Bangalore would you find people speaking at least three tongues!

Cross-posted (originally) on ibnlive.com
P.S And yes, I'm back!

Fade out

Companies do this regularly, they chop off side businesses and focus on core competencies. Even I'd done it once before, but I suppose I didn't learn from the experience. It was back in college when I was a in a band, heavily involved in cultural activities and had a hectic social life too. I had to cut something out - and after a lot of thought, I quit the band, as I did not have the drive to become a really good guitarist.
Now, 6 years on, it's happened again. Straddling too many worlds, I find I cannot devote a 100 percent to everything I've taken on. Cannot be good at work, read books, watch movies, work out, and devote time to the three blogs that I currently run. So I've decided to stay off blogging for a while. I will continue to discuss issues in the Indian tv news industry in jumpcutindia, because that's close to what I do for a living and is linked to my future plans. And the third blog? Well, I'm an anonymous voice there.

See you again in the future though! Those wishing to contact me, can simply leave a comment.

Banker

A couple of months back, I bought Ashok Banker's Prince of Ayodhya - and not because I especially love the Ramayana (yes, Banker's writing it all over again!). It's because I remember his Bombay novel Vertigo, as a particularly enjoyable read. Shortly after buying it though, a friend told me Banker's not a highly-rated writer. And that thought must have clouded my mind (being of the impressionable kind), because I still haven't started Prince...

Not anymore! Thanks to Amit Verma of Indian Uncut I got to read Banker's interview. It's on Sonia Faleiro's blog (these links, I say!). Even if you don't want to read Banker, read the interview. Here's an excerpt to get you going (again thanks to Verma):

"I don't think I'm a very talented writer, but I have passion. What I lack in stylistic or linguistic dexterity, and sheer artistry, I make up for with fecundity, fire and feel."

If you have the time after that, try Banker's blog.

From sport to playin’ the game

It’s been 2 ½ years and great fun. But I’ve decided to move away from sports journalism, for a while atleast. I now get to do politics and ‘general’ news, and that could mean getting down and getting my nose dirty. For, political journalism means that I will have to really hunt for stories, or soundbites whatever the case may be.

Obviously sports is really something else – as a sports journo you easily get to see people stretching their limits beyond belief. You see athletes pick themselves up after defeat and moving on. You see what goes behind their preparation. It has, and can be an unbelievably uplifting experience. And it is pure. That is what I will miss most.

So even you’re not really interested, I leave you with my top 5 moments:

Agassi beats Roddick at the Cincinnati Masters (2004)
Tennis has now got to be my favourite game. And there was nothing better than seeing an old and rusty master handing out a beating to the young turk. Andy Roddick swore and served raspingly, but Agassi pulled off searing returns and made the young ‘un run till he lost steam.

Portugal beat England (Euro 2004)
It was the height of football fever at work. And we slaved by day, and cheered ourselves hoarse during the nights. It all sort of coalesced into this one match, where England took on Portugal in the quarterfinals of the tournament. There were goals, and more goals and finally a penalty shootout. And there were about 20 of us, packed in one small room. A few of us were staunch supporters, and a few like me, shifted sides. Rip-roaring fun.

Athens 2004 Olympics
If Euro 2004 was hard work Athens 2004 was insanely gruelling. It was really my first time as Anchor (though I’d been doing our daily sports bulletin by then). What I remember most – apart from the Olympics that is, is the camaraderie our team shared. We were without two key members but gawd, did we turn on the heat.

ICC Champions trophy, England 2004
Well this was special, because it was my first time OUT of the country and the first ODI tournament I covered. What I felt during those 18-odd days is contained in an older post.

Australia beat the crap out of India at home (2004)
This series was an education. I learnt how to really read the game just by watching, while traveling with the team. We trawled through Bangalore, Chennai, Nagpur and Mumbai looking for interviews and watching sessions of play. And interviewing Shane Warne repeatedly (and when he broke the world record) was special.

These taggers I tell you...

They’re swarming all over the place, and Sayoni has now inflicted it upon me. So here goes -

Number of books I own: Anywhere between 150 - 600. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t get more specific, as they are spread between Bangalore, Bombay and Delhi.

Last book I bought/read: The Golden Compass (more famously known as Northern Lights). This novel by Philip Pullman is Part 1 of the “His dark materials” trilogy. Am currently reading the second part (borrowed) called The Subtle Knife. It’s fantasy, and exciting stuff.

5 books that mean a lot to me:

Education of a wandering man by Louis L’amour – the great granddaddy of western novels. In the course of his life he was a prizefighter, elephant handler, lumberjack, miner, soldier, seaman and of course, a writer.

Lord of the Rings trilogy – my cousin gifted it to me in 9th standard (age 13) but it took me two attempts to proceed beyond a 100 pages. I managed it in 11th standard and from then on, was hooked. It still remains a powerful influence.

Dirk Gently series – they said the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series was ultimate, but for me the real magic of Douglas Adams’ writing is in the two-part misadventures of Dirk Gently.

The adventures of Tom Sawyer & Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain – Tom Sawyer was a role model, need I say more?

Psmith series by P G Wodehouse – I love all Wodehouses, but the ultimate favourite is neither Bertie nor Uncle Fred – it’s our gentle comrade!

And the relay goes on…now I nominate these two:

Criminalenglish
Black Muddy River

Back in Bangalore

 

The flight attendant speaks in Kannada as well, and I begin to enjoy my flight to Bangalore in this low-cost airline. Even some of the people in the airplane seem to be speaking in my language. That's nice, because Kannada is a fast-fading tongue in my city. Okay, it isn't exactly fading, but people from other states are fast overwhelming the original 'local' population. But that's a different story...for now I've already reached Bangalore airport and I see for the first time, ads on the conveyer belt. Looks like every inch of this city is sold.

This time I resolve not to take a taxi home, but I let the friendly auto driver con me. I agree to pay 170 rupees, although I know the going rate is more like 85 bucks. I'm a fool, but he is - you guessed it - speaking Kannada, and my heart melts. Typically, he's Tamilian, but speaks Telugu as well.

The words come slowly at first: after all my Kannada has atrophied from disuse, but soon they begin to tumble out. In a day or two, the same old inflections will be back, I know. On the way home, I see people working on half-completed bridges raising clouds of dust and vehicles belching out smoke. And yet, through all this a pleasant wind is blowing.
Those bastards! How long can the city take this?

I call my mom, and tell her I'll be home in 20 minutes. I also lay down my bet: the new colour of our house is gray and white, I wager. But upon reaching, I find out it is more a tone of yellow. Ah well, it looks nicer than before.

I'm home I suppose.

And now, for A-Rod

So Rafael Nadal did win the French Open, and by doing so, won me a bet as well. And now my money's on Andy Roddick for Wimbledon. Just a hunch - not many give him a chance anyway. Read this.

Love for Tokyo

Isn't it a bit eerie that three of my favourite films have Tokyo in it? Lost in Translation and Kill Bill Vol 1, I'd already seen. But what really blew my mind was Tokyo Story.

Bipolar

It's been two extremes for me in the world of sport recently. Liverpool did the impossible by snatching victory from certain defeat in last night's thriller - the stage being the Champions League final (Europe's top club football tournament) against A C Milan in Istanbul. It was quite easily the best football match I've even seen. Liverpool three goals down in the first half, quickly found their feet to equalise with three stunning goals. That led to the penalty shootout, which the English club won.
Simon Barnes, Chief Sports Writer of The Times writes about it evocatively here.

And the other extreme was watching Andre Agassi sink further into inevitable retirement. His painful exit from the French Open thanks to an inflammed sciatic nerve reminded me of World Class, which is a must-read for any tennis fan. Agassi has been a favourite and it's getting difficult for me to face the fact that he doesn't have the speed, stamina, and now the body to compete professionally. I suppose Agassi is beginning to swallow the pill himself.