Monthly Archive for March, 2010

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May I Hebb Your Attention Pliss Kolkata Event

The “May I Hebb Your Attention Pliss” launch event in Kolkata is on March 19th at 6:30 at Crossword Elgin Road near to the place (Bhowanipore College) where Bipasa Basu studied. I will be in conversation with Rimi Chatterjee . Please feel free to attend and bring along a friend or two. And no need to RSVP as per above poster.

On March 21st, at Cafe Coffee Day (CCD), Park Street at 4 pm, I want to do a blogmeet/tweetup/ where as promised before, the interactions will be of a more “personal” nature (interpret that as you wish). Originally my plan was to do it at T3 but it seems T3 has closed down. To coordinate, my cell number is 8981122343. [Map here]

Chennai Uncle Massage

Rohan Rohan,
Yes Papa?
Bowling over?
No Papa.
Scoring runs?
No Papa.
Open your mouth and have some mishti doi.

Kolkata Knight Riders had been on a winning spree. That is a state of being as unstable as a supersaturated solution and it was only inevitable that just like IPL 1.0, the KKR would have its juggernaut brought to a screaming halt.

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A Visit To Eden Gardens

There were three huge notices on the top of Gate No 9. One was the ICC’s anti-racism statement. One was a picture of Ajit Agarkar having an expression of pure terror on his face, as if he had just came face to face with his doppleganger. And the third was a statement as to how seriously the IPL took ambush advertising and what horrible things would happen to people who bought in an ad for a competing product.  Considering the different rights the IPL authorities wished to impose on the paying public, as codified on the back of the ticket (They own the images of people in the stadium, audience members are not allowed to take pictures, the IPL is not liable for any damages etc) I think from next year they should put up another notice saying that they own the organs of people entering the stadium and have the right to remove a kidney anytime they wish.

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The Show Gets On The Road

Watching Extraa Innings without Mandira Bedi’s comforting presence and sharp cricketing knowledge is akin to experiencing spring without the koel bird, or more accurately a nuclear holocaust without radiation burns. Which is why when I saw Sameer Kochchar, the star of new-age movies like Bold and the international sleeper hit Ek Se Mera Kya Hoga (reportedly Shane Warne’s favorite flick), I felt a tightening of my neck muscles. Perceiving Navjyot Sidhu, the Adolf Eichmann of the English language, sitting next to him did nothing to lessen my sense of dread till presently my eyes alighted on the third person in the room, Arun Lal. He was looking serene and peaceful, almost like I imagined Lord Buddha, verily a teardrop on the cheek of time, dispensing zen-like knowledge as is his wont. It was then, especially when Sidhu and Arun Lal started getting into banter about pulling down trousers, that I could relax on my sofa. All waz well.

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Shuru Ho Gaya Mamu

Driving in from Netaji Subhash airport to South Calcutta, in between posters of Konkona advertising real-estate, my eyes were assailed by gigantic cut-outs of the great King Khan, wearing KKR’s new purple jersey (tough luck to all the suckers who spent moolah buying their black jerseys), cut out of the same lingerie cloth as their old uniform but with a kinkier color, having the suitably pithy slogan “Luck De” (which I initially read as “Lick De”). Suitably seduced, I leaned back, closed my eyes and thought to myself—-Oh to be in India now that IPL is here. Front page of newspapers replaced by a gigantic advertisement for the tournament. IPL countdown clocks on every channel.The stench of money, greed and cheap thrills.

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