Application for Transfer

Dear Mr. Raviteja,
All is not exactly well here. I do not get sleep in the nights anymore. I am afraid I am becoming an insomniac. The weather, the silence, the isolation, the nights do not agree with me at all.For the amount that I am getting from you to go through this hell I can stand all this. But, what I cant stand is the animals.
I have been afraid of animals since I was 4 years old. A kitten I was petting affectionately scratched me. I still have a scar on my left hand. When I was 11, I had a liking for doing cycle-riding. This liking(which now I think is madness) once made me to get up in the morning at 6 A.M and go around the town. There was not much light anywhere. While riding I saw two dogs lying and doing something that I cannot write about. I was getting scared but I bravely rode past them. And then they started to bark and chase me. I rode as fast as I could, but one dog came near my front tire while the other went near my back tire. I began shouting 'Help, Help' and then thinking that english speaking people might not be awake at this time, "Kapadi, Kapadi". My chappal fell of as I cycled for some distance. And then at the end of the road, a man saw me and threw stones at the dogs and made them scared. I didnt even stop to say 'thank you, sir'.I went home with only one chappal.
Here, it is very cold in the nights. I have asked for bedsheet from my servant, Ramu. But he is not knowing Kannada and I have learnt only third-language Hindi. I told him to get some blankets and he brought bangles. Sir, what will I do with bangles? But he is a fool and not understanding. He sometimes goes to jungle and catches mongooses or snakes. I say " Yeh govt. ka(or sometimes ki, ke etc) jungle hai. Yaha bete(hunting) nahi karnau(karnee, karna) hai" and he says "howdo, howdo"(yes, yes) shaking his head like he has some spring in it. I tell him it is not 'howdo' but 'houdhu', but as I said, he is a fool saying only 'howdo' like an Englishman.
In the nights I hear strange noises. Sometimes, I think it is only Ramu snoring. But can someone snore like a wolf howling? I have asked him from where the sounds are coming. But, he always repeats the sounds that he hears and says some strange things that I dont understand. Actually, if he speaks his Hindi a little slow, I can understand something at least. One day we heard a loud noise and he screamed and said 'Ye thi .....'. I am telling him that here is nothing called 'Yeti' and he is nodding his spring-head and saying 'howdo, howdo'. Sir, I am scared now. I dont know what will happen if the Yeti comes to my house one day.
It is 12o'clock now. Ramu is snoring loudly. The Yeti is also making noises. I am still not getting any sleep. I want to resign or get some transfer. I cannot stay here.Hope you can understand my handwriting.

Yours,
Chandrappa.ps-Here it is not raining, but I have a raincoat. The crows here are very bad and they like passing motion on me. So, I wear my raincoat and go to the river to do my sandhyavandana.My black raincoat is almost white now.

An Artist & His Art

The fast bowler began his sprint of a little over 25 metres; twice the length the ball would have to travel once it would be released. On the striker’s end, crouched with his piece of willow, stood a batsman, or rather an artist, for he was so gifted. The ball, a good delivery outside the off stump, wasn’t defended with a dead bat, or forcefully whacked through the covers, but was caressed with infinite tenderness--a flick of the wrists through mid-wicket. The sound of the bat hitting the ball wasn’t the usual ‘thump’, but a pleasing ‘chink’ (as Ravi Shastri puts it). The very next ball by the frustrated bowler was an average delivery on off stump that kept a little low. This ball, which even a number 11 would negotiate with ease, had this man playing all around it. The ball eventually found its way to the lower half of the off stick. The stunned batsman stood rooted to his ground. His face showed utter disbelief, but his eyes show fear—for the selectors’ axe isn’t too far away.

VVS Laxman isn’t just any other batsman. He is one who has the potential of being a phenomenon, one of the greatest the game has ever seen. He is one of the few who takes the skill of batsmanship to new highs. In fact, when he wields his willow, batting is not a skill, but an art. An art so pleasing that one becomes oblivious to all around oneself—the only desire of the heart is to see him bat.

He is definitely not an orthodox batsman. His shots are not technically perfect, his footwork unquestionably not among the best in the world. But, who cares? The Don’s shots weren’t really appropriate for a coaching manual either. He is as unpredictable as the rains in India, getting out to rank long hops that Geoff Boycott’s mum would dispatch with a hockey stick. Sometimes even his defence leaves a lot to be desired.

In the summer of 2001, when Indian cricket, still recovering from the match fixing scandal, touched new lows, a messiah of hope arrived. On the third day of the momentous Kolkata test match, the Laxman orchestra got cracking. An orchestra that played a wonderful symphony never heard before; an orchestra that lasted, indefatigably, an entire day; an orchestra that single-handedly lifted a team that was down in the dumps; an orchestra of grace, elegance and class.

However, Laxman’s career has never really taken off. The great innings of master-class and substance have been overshadowed by scratchy failures. His career graph, with so many ups and downs, would look more like a series of road-humps. In spite of being an extremely aggressive test batsman (when in full flow), his omission from the national side in the shorter version of the game has become a common sight.

Why does this happen? How can a man so very gifted unable to live up to even the most modest of expectations? How long can one say that he is unable to take the pressure or, probably, is short of confidence? A man who has played nearly a decade of international cricket will know how to handle pressure and work his way out of lean patches.

And this is where the technique factor comes into play. Laxman is blessed with tremendous amounts of hand-eye coordination which, many a time, makes up for his extremely shoddy footwork, his penchant for prodding way outside the off stump. His unrivalled wrists keep in check other aspects of his faulty technique. But, cricket is a game that is fast changing. With the increased use of technology in all the aspects of the game, it is of utmost importance for a batsman to keep changing his style of play. Teams all around the world have a computer-literate coach and at least one computer analyst. Every player’s strong points and weaknesses are scrutinized and a well thought strategy is chalked out for him.

This is where Laxman falls short. He is one among a breed of batsmen for whom batting came as naturally as composing music did for A.R.Rahman. All the various coaches he had helped him develop his game without really tampering much with his style. Laxman’s greatest strength is also his weakest link. His unique and artistic style of play kept many a bowler lost for options. But now, well into his 8th year as an international cricketer, Laxman’s batting has been analysed; cracks in his batting have been figured out. The bowlers bowl according to a plan—they bait him. Laxman, sadly, is yet to find a counter attack—a master plan that will cover up for the chinks in his armoury. The fact is that Laxman hasn’t gone down as a batsman, but he has failed to adapt. He has failed to make those slight variations in his game that would keep his place a certainty in the side.

Ian Chapel was, once, asked to change his grip by the great Sir Don himself and this tremendously improved his all round abilities as a batsman. With some luck, Laxman too might pick up a tip or two from some great Indian batsmen and might be back among the runs again. With a few months to go before the next season begins, Laxman has some time to reassess his game. Hopefully, the coming season will see a fully rejuvenated Laxman, rearing to go. For as the proverb goes, “Form is temporary, Class is permanent”.

Naxals

"Be silent. There might be thieves around here"
"Or possibly even Naxals and..... AAAAAAH"
"What happened?"
"You would nearly have had my shirt burning. Hold that fire-stick a little higher"
"But, you didn’t have to shout--"
"Papa, what are nacsals"
"Ask Amma"
"Amma, what are nacsals"
"Shhh"
"Snake!"
"Where?"
"No, that was only your amma shhhing"
"Amma shhhed, not ssssssed"
"SHH, keep quite and walk on."
"Ahu, I want to see the snake"
"There is no snake, nana"
"But, amma, you shouted 'snake' just now"
"Don’t shout."
"I said snail, not snake"
"Oh, okay. Papa what are nacsals"
"Naxals, not nacsals"
"Whatever. What are they?"
"They are forest ghosts"
"Really? I want to see them"
"You cant see ghosts"
"My teacher says you can. She saw one when she was 5 years old and I am five years old now"
"Okay"
"Forest ghost. Ey, Forest ghost. Where are you? Naskul, come out"
"Keep quite, little rascal"
"I want to see forest ghost"
"Shh"
"How far is it from here"
"About 5 minutes"

*******

WHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOO
"What was that?"
"That was the sound of the forest ghost"
"Are owls forest ghosts?"
"That was not an owl. It was the naxal"
"Only Owls can make sounds like that. Not rascals--- sorry nascals. My teacher says.."

*******

"Do nusmskulls live on trees?"
"Ask amma"
"Amma, Do numbskulls live on trees?"
"No, only in palaces"
"Why are they called forest ghosts if they live in palaces?"
"They live in palaces in the forest"
"The 'Phantom' lives in a forest palace"
"Very good, Now keep quite. I think your father doesn’t know the way home"
"Doesn’t know the way, hah"
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
"Keep quiet, will you?"
"I am calling the nascel"
"Naxals will come whether you call them or not'

*******

"Do you know where we are going?"
"Yes I do"
"Is this the right way home?"
"This is a short-cut"
"I think we are lost"
"No, we are not"

*******

"AAAAAAAAAAH, drop the stick. drop it now"
"Papa, the grass is burning"
"MY shirt is too"
"Run, Babu, Run"
"Amma, why is papa rolling on the ground? I want to do it too"
"He is on fire, damnit"
"He is on fire. The grass is on fire. Amma, don’t hit him like that"
"Run babu, the fire is spreading"
"I want to do rolling like papa. ROLL, Roll..."

********

"There is the house"
"Lovely shortcut you found"
"I guess it cost us one shirt"
"How sad papa, we still didn’t find a single muscle--sorry nascle"