the weight and the crumble

Pakistan crumbled again.

It seems to me that they carry some sort of burden on their shoulders when they play against India, especially in the crutial matches. The more crutial the match is, the heavier the burden becomes. With every defeat this burden gets heavier; and finally, laden with religious nonsense, it becomes unbearable. And they crumble under its weight.

- Obviously. Pakistan and India are old rivals and it is natural for them to feel stressed up in key contests.

- Rivalry has reduced with time. It is far less than it used to be. But weight has shown an opposite trend. It has only become heavier.

The way and the extent to which they mix up faith, honor and cricket is typically Pakistani and it embarasses decent people. Cricketers keeping long beards chanting strange mantras on mike look out of place and ridiculous. And statements like "insha-Allah we will not lose in the holy month of Ramadan" creates a bad taste in everyone's mouth. The idea of owning, mistressing, God is pathetic. If God exists, their God is our God too.

Before the T20 finals, parallels from 1992 were drawn by their side to take psychological edge. But as Dostoevsky rightly says, psychology is a double-edged sword and often it kills the one who holds it. And getting killed by your own sword makes the death more tragic for you and more amusing for the killer. Perhaps Pietersen can explain this in more detail.

But they would not understand, and keep piling things. On their bad days, a Tendulkar walks in and clobbers them to ignominy. On luckier occasions, they find their own way. Such is that burden that no Anwar or no Inzamam could carry, when it really mattered. Not even in 1992! The burden to do things, said in relaxed moments, makes itself heavy in the field. The burden to win and win with disdain doesn't work anymore, not even with so-called minnows. Aamir Sohail tried this with Venkatesh Prasad and we saw how he crumbled under the weight of his own hubris. The inevitable happened, again. Bitter memories have their own weight, and they lie heavily on Pakistani heads.

Misbah-ul-Haq had to score just a single off two deliveries. And the bowler was Sreesanth. What else can someone who calls himself a batsman (and indeed is!) can ask for! But suddenly he found his bat too heavy to be lifted. Pakistan escaped victory again in world cup. What followed the draw was a spectacle Pakistani fans will never like to remember but at the same time will never be able to forget. We had seen wild celebration of absurdity all around, from cheer-leaders to nonsense like bowl-out. But every travesty of modern cricket was overshadowed by the display of unbelievable incompetence on the part of Pakistani bowlers. More than the event, it was their response to that event which ridiculed the standard of the game. Harbhajan's hand-pumping after hitting the unguarded stumps was degrading enough; but their acclaimed bowlers' (man of the tournament included) failing to do that, not once or twice, and not by one or two, certainly topped the charts. And of course, not just defeated, they left dishonored out of the arena. Everything looked surrealistically stupid. But wait a minute. Was that incompetence? I don't believe that. Pakistan does have a quality attack. It was something worse. Perhaps weight.

Pakistan were not new and inexperienced in T20 like the Indians. They have been playing this form of game from long back (Read Rashid Latif's article on cricinfo) and they had all the skills to make it to the finals by beating those who were relatively new and inexperienced, except, of course, India. But in the final they had to face India and they started feeling that again. In the end, unsurprisingly, they were seen down on their knees, crumbled and defeated. They can consider themselves lucky for good reasons, and that luck helped them reaching pretty close to the cup. Sehwag was declared unfit and senior Pathan was not a fitting substitute for him. Chawla was already injured and Dhoni had hardly anything to choose from. Good omen and the meaning of having a good omen must have fanned their feiry minds. That fire was apparent in their attack and kudos to Umer Gul to wrap up the Indian middle order rather cheaply.

But the second half repeated the old story. Misbah, the poor guy, is not to be blamed. He just wanted to get rid of some weight by doing a Miyadad. Unfortunately his shot to glory backfired. In retrospect, doing something like that when you have to score 6 off comfortable 4 deliveries, without losing wicket, seems dull and insane. But this dullness and this insanity was not personally his, but was very much collective. In post-match ceremony, their skipper demonstrated the same dullness and insanity by thanking all the Muslims of the world for supporting his side.

It is high time Pakistan do some introspection. The fact is that they have lost in the holy month of Ramadan and more importantly, they have lost rather unfortunately. The only consolation for them is that they lost to a better, if not stronger, team that could hold its nerve in taut moments and could hit the stumps from 22 yards. Under an influence of stupidity, or something worse, Sohaib Malik might have thanked all the Muslims in the world for supporting his side, but he forgot that the man who sent him back to pavilion is called Irfan Pathan, who was also the man of the match. The very match that they had lost.

Mr Malik, grow up. Come out of your medieval mentality. Cricket is a game, and game is to be enjoyed and played with sports spirit. Winning and losing is important, but result comes after the game. And result is meaningless if it corrupts the very spirit of the game. Cricket has never had anything to do with religion. Stop humiliating yourself, your fans, and your religion by issuing irresponsible statements and instead play the game well. Entertain Pakistanis and entertain Indians. Don't embarass them. You have your supporters here in India as well, and all of them are not Muslims. May you get some peace of mind. Better luck next time.

कट्टरता - नरेन्द्र कोहली

"नववर्ष की बहुत बहुत बधाई।"
उन्होंने चकित हो कर मुझे देखा, "कौन सा नववर्ष? नया साल तो पहली जनवरी को आरंभ होता है।"

"वह ईसा का नववर्ष होता है।"
वे भौंचक से मेरा चेहरा देखते रह गए जैसे मैंने कोई बहुत अशिष्ट बात कह दी हो। फिर बोले, "हम लोग इतने कट्टर नहीं हैं।"

मैं मानता आया हूँ कि यदि ईमानदारी से कोई काम करना हो तो उसके नियम विधान का कट्टरता से पालन करना चाहिए। ढुलमुल रह कर संसार में कोई काम ढंग से नहीं होता। यदि हम कट्टर न हुए होते और उनके समान उदार बने रहते तो न कभी मुगलों का राज्य समाप्त होता न अंग्रेज़ों का। किंतु मैं यह भी समझ रहा था कि उन्होंने अपने विषय में कुछ नहीं कहा था, जो कुछ कहा था, वह मेरे विषय में था। शब्द कुछ भी रहे हों, कहा उन्होंने यही था कि मैं कट्टरपंथी हूँ और कहीं कोष्ठकों में यह भी ध्वनित हो रहा था कि कट्टरपंथी होना अच्छी बात नहीं है।

"ईसवी संवत को ईसा का संवत कहना क्या कट्टरता है?"
"और क्या? नववर्ष नववर्ष होता है, ईसा का क्या और किसी और का क्या?" वे पूर्णत: निश्चित, निश्चिंत और आश्वस्त थे।
"विक्रम संवत को विक्रम संवत कहना, हिजरी संवत को हिजरी संवत कहना, पारसी नौरोज़ को पारसी नौरोज़ कहना कट्टरता है?"
"वह सब हम नहीं जानते। हम तो केवल इतना जानते हैं कि यह नववर्ष है। सारी दुनिया मनाती है।"
"ठीक कह रहे हैं आप।" मैंने कहा, "शायद आपको मालूम भी नहीं होगा कि यह पंचांग केवल पंचांग नहीं है, 'ईसवी पंचांग है।"
"पंचांग क्या?" वे बोले, "वह जो पंडितों के पास होता है।"
"पंचांग हम कैलेंडर को कहते हैं।" मैंने कहा, "पंडितों के पास भी होता है और साधारण जन के पास भी होता है।"
"मैं वह सब नहीं जानता।" वे बोले।
"आपके न जानने से न तथ्य बदलते हैं न सत्य।" मैं बोला, "कबूतर आँखें बंद कर ले तो बिल्ली का अस्तित्व समाप्त नहीं हो जाता।"
"क्या बुराई है ईसा के नववर्ष में?" वे कुछ आक्रामक हो उठे।
"मैंने बुराई की बात कही ही नहीं है।" मैंने कहा, "मैंने तो इतना ही कहा है कि यह नववर्ष, ईसाइयों के पंचांग के अनुसार है।"
"पर काम तो हम इसी के अनुसार करते हैं।"
"मुगलों के राज्यकाल में हमें हिजरी संवत के अनुसार काम करना पड़ता था।" मैंने कहा, "वह हमारी मजबूरी थी।
हमने कभी उसे अपना उत्सव तो नहीं बनाया। वही बात ईसवी संवत के लिए भी सत्य है। अंग्रेज़ी साम्राज्य ने उसे हम पर थोपा। आज भी किन्हीं ग़ल़त नीतियों के अनुसार काम करने के कारण ईसा का वर्ष हमारी मजबूरी हो सकती है, हमारा उत्सव तो नहीं हो सकता। किसी की दासता, उसको बधाई देने का कारण नहीं हो सकती।"
"किसी को याद भी है, अपना देसी कैलेंडर?" वे चहक कर बोले।
"जिन्हें अपनी अस्मिता से प्रेम है, उन्हें याद है।" मैंने कहा, "सरकार से कहिए भारतीय पंचांग से वेतन देना आरंभ करे, हम सबको अपने आप भारतीय पंचांग याद आ जाएगा।"
"इस देश पर हिंदू कैलेंडर थोपना चाहते हो।" उन्होंने गर्जना की, "इस देश में मुसलमान और ईसाई भी रहते हैं।"
"मैं क्या करना चाहता हूँ उसे जाने दीजिए।" मैं बोला, "आप इस देश पर ईसाई पंचांग थोपते हुए भूल गए कि इस देश में हिंदू भी रहते हैं। ईसाई कितने प्रतिशत है इस देश में? और आपने उनका कैलेंडर सारे देश पर थोपा रखा है।

और उसपर आप न केवल यह चाहते हैं कि हम उसे उत्सव के समान मनाएँ यह भी भूल जाएँ कि हमारा अपना एक पंचांग है, जो इससे कहीं पुराना है। जो हमारी ऋतुओं, पर्व त्यौहारों तथा हमारे इतिहास से जुड़ा है।"
"वह हिंदू कैलेंडर है।" वे चिल्लाए।
"यदि संसार में आपका मान्य पंचांग, एक धर्म से जुड़ा है तो दूसरा पंचांग भी धार्मिक हो सकता है।"
मैंने कहा, "उसमें क्या बुराई है? किंतु हम जिस पंचांग की बात कर रहे हैं, वह भारतीय है। राष्ट्रीय है। आप बातों को धर्म से जोड़ते हैं, हम तो राष्ट्र की दृष्टि से सोचते हैं। ईसवीं और हिजरी संवत धार्मिक है क्योंकि वे एक धर्म- एक पंथ- के प्रणेता के जीवन पर आधारित हैं। विक्रम संवत अथवा युगब्ध का किसी पंथ अथवा पंथप्रणेता से कोई संबंध नहीं हैं। वह शुद्ध कालगणना है। इसलिए वह उस अर्थ में एकदम धार्मिक नहीं है, जिस अर्थ में आप उसे धार्मिक कह कर उसकी भर्त्सना करना चाह रहे हैं।"
"मुझे धार्मिक बातों में सांप्रदायिकता की बू आती हैं।"
"तो आपको अपने ही तर्क के आधार पर ईसवीं संवत को एकदम भूल जाना चाहिए। वह तो चलता ही एक पंथ विशेष के आधार पर है।"
"दुखी कर दिया यार तुमने।" वे बोले, "तुमसे तो बात करना ही पाप है। अब विक्रमी, ईसवीं, हिजरी और जाने कितने संवत होंगे। मैं किसको मनाऊँ?"
"इतना संभ्रम अच्छा नहीं है।" मैंने कहा, "संसार में इतने पुरुष देखकर उनमें से अपने पिता को ही न पहचान सको, तो कोई तुम्हें समझदार नहीं मानेगा।"

Freezing The Footloose

It was beginning to get on my nerves now. Helpless since I was, I was feeling badly tired. The discussion came back to the same point again.

- Why don't you try to understand? I don't want this.

- No, you do. But you don't realize that now. Now be a good boy. Take this, it will do you good.

- Look, I think I can decide what is good for me. I am not a kid.

- That's why. Don't get scared, it is not bitter. It tastes rather good.

- I know that. How many times you'll say the same thing? I know it is not bitter. It's not about that. The question is - why should I take this?

- Because everyone does so. Are they all idiots?

- I don't know about them. But I know myself. I am happy and I don't need anything.

- We know you and your needs better than you do. It was not you who asked us to vaccinate you when you were small. You needed that though. You were crying then and you are crying today too. But we know what is good for you. Now don't be difficult.

- Let me think. May be sometime later. But not now.

- You had said the same words last year too. There is a proper time for everything. Late done is not done. And who do you think will wait for you?

- I don't ask anyone to wait for me. But why can't we allow a man to decide for himself, unless he begins to harm others?

- Because this is not America. You people read few books and you think that you know life. No book will teach you experience.

- Let me earn my experience. I have only one life, let me live it.

- I, me, mine... as if nothing else matters for you. Do you have any respect left for our sentiments?

- Oh!

- Come on. Take this.

- I can't.

And so on... It is getting heavier day by day.

Wake up, Neo...

It is sad that most of us are blind, sometimes knowingly, to our literary achievements, which lends life to our cultural identity, though many of us follow, in obsequious detail, what happens on the other side of the globe. We have produced some of the best writers of the world. At the same time we are, I am beginning to believe, the worst readers anyone can find. Why? Because we don't read at all, and those few who do, choose not to read the best writers.

And why? Perhaps because they are our writers and they write in our language. And we are still to get rid of our mental blocks, so firmly placed in our collective psyche by (post-independence) colonial rule. We have simply failed to forget that 200 years long nightmare, haven't we? Even after 60 years of independence, we can not honestly claim that we are completely free from inferiority complex, thanks to the Nehruvian policies. Result - using little or no judgement, we embrace anything that has anything to do with west. And worse - in the maddening frenzy, we disregard whatever is in our house, and we end up throwing the baby with bath water.

I have had a chance to visit foreign lands, but quite surprisingly it is India, my homeland that surprises me the most. What surprises me, among other things, is our collective apathy for our own language, our own culture, and I have painfully observed that this behaviour is most acute among the Hindi speaking people. Enough of that. After 60 years, it is hightime we stopped being possessive about that humiliation and move ahead. Here we can learn from the Chinese, who believe that they have always been a great civilization, and the bygone century was just a rough patch in their otherwise glorious history. And they work hard to match their conviction.

We, on the other hand, are running away from our own shadows. And this is not only futile, but downright pathetic. The defeat was collective, and the redemption will have to be collective. But people are in great hurry and they don't have time to understand this.

The privileged ones throw coins and get their skin white-washed in their convent schools. A good number of these idiots, if they are not pathetically ignorant or indifferent, which most of them are, assume a condescending attitude towards likes of Premchand and others, and smile like corrupt politicians do when they talk about Mahatma Gandhi. The shrewd ones mummify them by wrapping them in words - as if they are approving of something, which also existed in same world, and then they rush back to their business. Oh thank you very much. With the phallic confidence they buy in those English-medium shops, they can easily afford that audacity without hurting themselves. Anyways, I don't expect anything else from this god-forsaken breed.

For others, I am writing this post. I am not here to sell nationalism here. I am writing not only because I love Hindi Literature, but also because I find it worthy of highest respect. And that's why this post deserves to be written.

Like most of us, I had little awareness of the developments in Hindi Literature. I hardly knew any other good writer except Premchand. And I had read most of his works, novels and short stories, by the time I joined IITD. The other writer I had been exposed to was Yashpal - in relation to my mother's thesis topic. Other than them, I hardly knew anyone. Had I known more, I would have read more.

In IIT, I wasted my initial semesters asking others to suggest me something good to read and they recommended me likes of Ludlum, Sheldon etc. If you don't know about them, let me tell you - they write shit. And only pigs can consume that. Why? Because it comes from west. Anyways, I had to wait, and my reading in Hindi was kept on hold till I made friends with Debu in a chat room. He suggested me Gunahon Ka Devta by Dharmveer Bharti and "Sanskriti ke char adhyay" by Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar'. The latter is a Sahitya Akademy award winner masterpiece, and reading this was an illuminating experience for me, though I had read Nehru's "Discovery of India". If you want to see India in better perspective, do read this one. I am telling you all this because you might not be knowing someone like Debu.

In Ranchi Pustak Mela, I found "Rag Darbari" by Shrilal Shukla. I didnt know about it then, but I had huge respect for Sahitya Akademy. So I picked it up. But the book was left dumped on my shelf for years. And in autumn of 2005, when I finally started to read it, I chided myself - "why so late?" Reading this was an experience to cherish. No novel has ever tickled me like this one did. And it is not a book of jokes, but a consummate work of satire. After every fit of laughter, you feel a faint ache in your heart. By the end, the reader is left awestruck by the depth in which the author has understood the rural character of UP. And what a precision this man possesses in his expression! Without being sub-standard in quality, his language is credibly rustic, with a distinct flavor of its own. He has erected a Malgudi, with greater details, in UP - named Shivpalganj. Still, after two years when I had been there, I vividly remember Shivpalganj and its people, and the petty games they play with one another. Reading this book was somewhat like watching Sholay, in which every character breathes real air, and continues to breathe even after the movie ends. Don't miss this, and trust me you'll feel like coming to Hyderabad to thank me. Sometimes back, I saw an english translation of this book in Crossword. India surprised me again. Nowhere else in world, they translate their books in others' language. Anyways, let me assure you, the smell of Shivpalganj can not be translated.

Two months back, after I had finished Anna Karenina by Tolstoy, I picked up a couple of books, and they all bored me immensely. Why the hell Hemingway writes at all? Is he the same guy who wrote Old man and sea? Doesn't Russell try too hard to look smart? Can't he relax for a while and forget the self-imposed burden of being a philosopher? Well, the time was ripe to come back home, and I visited Sahitya Akademi website and ordered some books on Hindi Book Center. Now this is a big problem. First, we don't know what to read. And then we don't know where to get what we want. Our friends don't read them and our book shops don't keep them. But now you know something, don't you. At least this could be a good point to start.

When I have said so much, let me also mention a few books that I have read and really liked.

Anything by Premchand.
All poems by Dinkar.
All Sahitya Akademi award winners.
Gunahon Ka Devta - Dharmveer Bharti
Andhere Band Kamre - Mohan Rakesh
Pratinidhi Vyangya - Harishankar Parsai
Madhushala - Harivanshrai Bachchan
Anything by Saratchandra, and Tagore. Mrityunjaya by Shivaji Sawant.

I am yet to read Maila Aanchal by Phaneeshwar Nath 'Renu'. This book is considered to be a milestone in Hindi Literature.

I could have written this post in a better manner. But that doesn't take anything away from the matter I was writing about. The main things is - a whole new world awaits you. And you have a choice. If you listen to me, go inside.