stories
Raghava Reddy’s Turtle
An exaggerated version of a true story, as told to me by a friend who chose to remain anonymous. Yeah. You’ll know why he did so after you have read this story.
He threw our clothes, splashed some kerosene on them, and set them on fire. We stood there, standing by the edge of the irrigation well, and watched. Once he was satisfied that our clothes were burnt to his satisfaction, Raghava Reddy, turned to us. The only thought that was running in my head was ‘if he hits me, I can’t raise my hands to defend myself: my hands were busy defending something far more important.
Raghava Reddy was an ancient man. Some said he was 60. Some said 80. But from when I knew him, I was 14, he had been the same: lanky, dark man with More...
The Legend of Elikunji
Mothers spoke about him in hushed whispers. When they fed their babies. “If you don’t finish your lunch, Elikunji will take you away.” We debated “Does he exist? Or is it just a maternal conspiracy to make the babies eat?” But, somewhere in the dark corners of our minds, a nagging question kept us on tenterhooks: what if he is for real?
There were too many small stories, snippets, trivia that contributed to the larger-than-life outlaw called Elikunji. First, the name: Elikunji in Tamil meant ‘baby rat or rat’s penis’ depending on how you look at it. Conversations with old men on Pagadamanu street confirmed my doubts. Elikunji was vertically challenged. He is only 3 ft tall, said some old men. The deaf Iyer next door had a different take. “He is as elusive as a rat,” he said More...
Dabur Partha and the Tusker (part 2 of 2)
My feet refused to move. It was as if my legs had a mind of their own, and they hated me. A wave of dust blew right through me. I rubbed my eyes and opened them to the captain of the Srinagar colony team alighting from his car like a Telugu movie hero: he gave a nonchalant kick to the door to close it, adjusted his Royban shades, surveyed the surroundings, and finally stood in front of me and cleared his throat. As if I was blind and didn’t notice this colossal personality. My legs were shaking and I wanted him to not see my fear. It was important to let the opponent know that I wasn’t scared. I wanted to tell him “I had nothing to do with it. You may want to talk More...
Dabur Partha and the Tusker (part 1 of 2)
Someone stole Niall O’ Brien’s kit and that inspired me to recount this story
The match was, how do I put it… ah!, tantalisingly poised. It was a ‘bet’ match. We were playing for money. Not for a ball or bat. The money at stake was 110 INR. Each player contributed 10 bucks. 10 bucks was a lot of money then. I am talking 1986/87 here. The Greamspet team, our team, was chasing and the Srinagar colony boys were all over us. Two wickets to go, ten overs remaining, and some 90 odd to get. Parthasarathy, my first friend, neighbour, and captain of the team was a worried man. I was curious. ‘Machan only ten bucks da, relax.’ I said. ‘Yeah but my dad had only 15 Rupees, for the entire month. And we have two weeks to go. More...
Did you do it?
Somewhere from across the hills abutting the Chittoor Arts college grounds, the Lapwing’s shrill call pierced the peace of our cricket match. “’Did-yoo-doo-it! Did-yoo-doo-it!” It questioned. I ambled to the bowling end. Scratched my calf with my toes and took my position as the umpire. L. Ramesh, self-proclaimed ‘pace’ bowler adjusted his spectacles and waited as Farooq took guard. He took his own time. He took a bail out and rammed it into the ground, to mark his leg stump. And then, took about half an hour to place the bail back on the stumps, thumped his hands on his sides, dusting them. He studied the field, multiple times. I was almost dozing off when Farooq’s “LEG STUMP EMPIRE!” woke me up. I never quite understood why some people called an umpire an ‘empire’. I shook off the grogginess More...
How I won the World Cup for India
Ramaswami Mudaliar was a kind man but he wasn’t too kind when it came to his Dyanora black-and-white television. In 1983, owing a television was the current day equivalent of driving a BMW with Katrina Kaif as your dinner date. Mudaliar probably hugged and slept on the TV, which was encased in a wooden cabinet. Such was his love for the idiot box. As a ten year old it really didn’t interest me: watching Chennai Doordarshan’s ‘Vayalum Vazhvum’ (a show for farmers that also educated us how to create a Gobar gas plant every now and then.) The only other frequently aired program was ‘Suveet, Kaaram, kaapi’ which carried a family planning message: the number of courses in your meal is inversely proportional to the number of children you have. Or some such shit.
But that day was different. More...
The end of Suren as we know him?
For all you guys that know Suren, here’s some breaking news. The rum-loving, party animal who terrorized unsuspecting victims with his ruthless one-liners has been branded. Yeah, that’s what samarshanam means. They brand you with red-hot Sanku and Chakra emblems. What this entails is that Suren is not supposed to drink, smoke, and eat (even veg food) from outside. How long can he hold on? Is this the end of the monster Suren? Time will tell.
I’d like end this with Suren’s popular quote: “Sappunaa Saaklaitu. Nakkuna Nakslaitu.”
The Garhwal Diaries – 1
26 October 2010, Delhi, Dehradun
We got rooms in the Doon club! Thanks to Dominic. The ‘Jehar’ (fresh lime juice) from the Doon club kitchen is supposed to be world renowned but I think it’s overrated. The boys made fun of my humungous suitcase. It can carry a whole town inside it.
Sandeep, seems to love animals. We were drinking in the balcony and Sandeep was all concentration, watching a bunch of dogs down in the lawns. He even had his eureka moment and he screamed, interjecting an intense conversation, with ‘Hey they are having sex! They are having sex!!’
Sandeep says he sees our faces covered in undies. Because we kept saying ‘cocky’.
Raghuram Kalletla reiterates what a big fan he is of T. Rajender, by crackling every now and then with “Action cum direction. Added More...
The Duck’s Gonna Go
I was sitting in the D stand on the fourth day, watching the match when Pujara walked by. I normally don’t scream at players to grab their attention, I mean fuck. No. But when I saw Pujara, I felt like I had to tell him. I screamed “Pujara! Hard luck man!” He was mildly shocked I guess. He smiled at me and gave a thumbs-up. I told myself ‘hope this boy makes it in the second innings.’ I had doubts though. I was sure Pujara would walk in only if the top order collapsed. It didn’t and Dhoni & co made that brilliant move: sending Pujara one down. Watching Pujara and the first innings hero M. Vijay play, I couldn’t help but think ‘Our cricket is in good hands.’ Agreed, their litmus test will happen when More...