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When the whole nation was busy admiring the exploits of a world cup winning nation and it’s undisputed heroes, one man stood and watched unfazed. We celebrated the genius of ‘God’ but somewhere in the ambush, the greatness of one Rahul Dravid got diluted.

Today, when he nears yet another glorious ton in his glittering career, I could proclaim that Dravid’s contribution to this elevated status of India’s success and euphoria has been monumental.

Yet another innings of sheer character at the face of adversity. And, he has not finished. And I can recall numerous such elite occasions when he has graced the symposium with his class and tenacity. England, South Africa, New Zealand have watched this man with tethering aplomb. His technique is inarguably, the finest and flawless (No wonder, he is nicknamed the ‘Wall’) and remains cricket’s most respected ambassadors in contemporary context. The Chips are down and out walks Dravid at number 3 with an advent of a self accomplished man. I see him as the perfect tutor for the youngsters to grasp the nuances of the authentic version of this legendary battle between bat and ball.

Harsha stole those magical words from me before I could lay my hands on them: an innings of dignity and supreme exemplar as I applaud an outstanding innings from India’s most valuable man.

Rahul Dravid, you might not be the cynosure of world cricket, but the game certainly rejoices, relishes and salutes those gems from your caressing willow.

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Beware, I am not talking about broken hearts here. Neither am I redundant enough to talk about those acquaintances that never cease to exist. Probably, trying to venture out on those moments when you feel that ‘not working out’ is a blessing in disguise.

I believe in relationships that selflessly caress through it’s rugged path to establish trust and bonding. At times, probably, it doesn’t work. Better said, we as human beings, are prone to get insecure every now and then. In a quest to make things work and get everything arranged in a package of unheard perfection, we miss out on those little thing things in life, that predominantly make things work. Alas, no wonder, our relationships get thicker with dormant energy.

Some relationships are better foregone. Cats and dogs, Osama and Bush, India and Pakistan, Mahatma and Jinnah, Australia and England. I realise the ones listed are honest protagonists as well but we cannot ignore the audacity of those characters in terms of a bilingual and monopolistic attention.

Let’s not derive solutions of out of this extract. My works tend to become courageously naive and distinguished at times. But honestly, we all need to work towards building our relationships towards a positive future.

The past few days of my life has been spent in an advent of crucial veracity; and a feeling within that says that you might be the blessed one with all the ingredients of a perfect plateau. There isn’t one, but I might be the closest to it.

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A brilliant Saturday afternoon coupled with eternal memories shared amongst my school inmates did emit more than just the syndrome of nostalgic aberration. The sea beaches in Digha meant that my ride in the mysterious and elated circumstances would come to an end soon. Humans are a bundle of the 3 Es: Ego, Expectation and Ecstasy. Those convulsions are contagious and tend to remain within you lest you try to (rather you do!) segment them in acceptable packages.

And, not to forget, relationships have always bothered me, for good. Few continue to stun me with their sumptuous affection and sometimes wonder to believe that most of our precious adversaries would never be your own unless their ass is below the nutshell and require intervention to break open.

Fine moments get etched as diamonds but significantly, allows you the courageous bandwidth to sustain such magical intercourse.

Similar to those gigantic arms of the picturesque ‘Vidhyasagar Setu’, we are occupied in designed packages of corrigible quantities: the greatest of powers besieged collide, reverberate and retreat to marry successful sojourns.

Not a self confessed gardener, but for the past few days, these plants that grace the upper stilt of our residence have shown some affection towards me.

Mom and sis would be very proud :).

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Not that I have been immersed with this beautiful game over the last few couple of years (or perhaps even more), but Wimbledon has always blown me away with it’s charm.

It’s my pick amongst the 4 grand slams and inarguably, the most popular one amongst the people and critics alike. We need not be democratic here, and few would disagree but probably for me, synthetic surfaces never exuded the charisma of this legendary battlefield and clay courts were too slow for me to catch up with.

There was a time when I used track records and history of this game like a beehive; I have obviously lost touch but still try to keep up with it’s histrionics.

Every game has undergone transformation in the last 2-3 decades, and tennis has been no exception. Rod Laver used to epitomise class and gesture with his technical power play (Roy Emerson heralded this skill very early in the last century). Then came the era of exuberance and tenacity. Bjorn Borg was instrumental in installing his stamp all over the game in the one era; John McEnroe, Ivan Lendl and Boris Becker took the game to a new planet. I was always a self confessed Becker admirer (till Sampras joined my books) and loved few of his extravagant strokes against legends like McEnroe and Edberg; he still remains the youngest unseeded Wimbledon champion in 1985. He went on to win couple of more and was indeed a pleasure to watch. Not to forget, our very own Vijay Amritraj and Ramesh Krishnan have had some memorable moments to cherish in this lawn of eternal grass. It was the age of serve-and-volley players and the game looked elegant at it’s very best.

I am not done yet; as then arrived the era of an iconic Pete Sampras. You ask me and I would rate him as one of the greatest players to have ever graced game of tennis. His composure, awe inspiring game play and disciplined approach were stuff that legends are made of. He indeed, was one. And, he was not alone. Another all time great, the mercurial Andre Agassi would give him a run for his money. Trust me, their duels were worth negotiating for and their rivalry is counted amongst the finest. Jim Courier, Goran Ivanisevic, Patrick Rafter, Tim Henman were a part of the elite bandwagon but got overshadowed in the presence of the two powerhouses. Power and precision were hallmarks of this period of play and the game witnessed shift in gears. I still remember Becker’s statement after he lost his final Wimbledon encounter (I am unable to recollect the year but it must be during the early or mid nineties) at the summit clash to Pete: “I used to own this place, now he owns it”. Words usually describe expressions, this one told us the story of two great champions, one set to rule and the other bidding adieu in grace.

Since then, we have enjoyed the peerless Roger Federer and the ferociously talented Rafa at their best, and enthralling us with their ethereal stroke-play. We have to admit, their rivalry was never adequately challenged and their dominance in the last decade has remained undisputed, to say the least. With Djokovic’s triumph, I could sense a beginning of a new chapter in the annals of tennis history. Perhaps, more to come our way.

The names I talked about were immensely talented and in a league of their own in all surfaces, but most of them sizzled in grass courts and Wimbledon is the queen of all grand slams.

I am still considering myself to be a pale out-of-sync in terms of contemporary statistics, but come June and ‘The All England Club’ thwarts me to revive younger memories, of me and the game.

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One hell of a f*****g freakish roller coaster!!

Seldom do we see such novels depicted in silver screen: an audacious attempt to relinquish the pretentious magnet of youngsters and gives us a feeling of what we are with all the cosmopolitan culture cosmetics thrown in.

The language, the satire, the outlook and the realism of characters deserve applause. The screenplay gets a 10 on 10 from me and Akshat Verma’s storyline deserves more than a mention. Not to forget the Aamir Khan touch smeared all over and he has been instrumental in offering such ‘away from the mundane’ stuff that infuses energy in our lives and scorches contemporary lifelines.

Not for the typical family goers nor would it tickle the commercial pedestrians. This one is for me, and is gorgeous entertainment with oodles of class.