Cricket: The death knell for other games

 

 

Claiming English to be the death knell for other languages is almost as atrocious. While agreeing that other games are tending to be sidelined, cricket definitely isn’t the cause. Cricket has many merits, and the chief ones being its ability to be played anywhere and its relatively low cost. Because of this and a plethora of other virtues, cricket is the most popular game in the country. And therefore, it is not cricket, the game itself, but the public at large that is to be blamed for the ruination of other games. As a personal experience, in my school, whenever I have played any game in PT class, it has been either cricket or football. Never have I been exposed to atiya patiya, gilli danda or kabaddi. And frankly speaking, even if they did, I wouldn’t have been interested. Yet, I do not hold cricket to blame, for the simple reason that if cricket would not have existed, then everybody would have liked some other game, say kabaddi in its place and people would be writing on kabaddi being the death knell for other sports. Some or the other game would hold the position that cricket is now holding. Moreover, we have to face the truth, bitter or otherwise that cricket is the only sport where India currently has the capability to turn out international standard players in large numbers.

Agreed that cricketers in India are a bit glamorised, but Bhupati, Kartikeyan, Pillai and Anand have a celebrity quotient too, and it isn’t that the cricketers have any less talent, and hence are as deserving of the status as their fellow sportsmen. An odd cricketer may belittle the game occasionally, but the damage has been sufficiently remedied by showing the door to every one of them.

Cricket is the game most commonly shown on TV, because it is an interesting game to watch. The television itself prevents people from going out and playing, and not cricket. There are many who like to watch cricket, and keep tabs on the records of the cricketers, and follow the various tournaments keenly, but would hate to go out in the sun and actually play it. Again, cricket takes the blame, this time for the television.

If anyone desires to keep any game alive, then the only possible solution is for the people at large to take interest and work towards it. The government is playing a key role in keeping these games alive, no matter what anyone might say. It treats all games equally, and the incentives and facilities provided to the cricketers are no more than any other player of any other game receives. For those who care, the national events of the games that are supposedly dying out are broadcast regularly on doordarshan, and the public isn’t interested. We cannot hold cricket to blame for having way more viewer potential. The sponsors of the cricket team are partly to blame for going with the flow and encouraging cricket teams only. The advertisements intending to promote the products are promoting the game. Lately, the trend has been changing and companies are looking at various different sportsmen for wearing them on their shirts.

This, and the very fact that such a topic is being called into discussion signifies the change in trend of the people’s thinking. It begins to show that the people actually care about the various sports that are a part of our culture, and those that some of us have mastered better than people from the regions where they developed in the first place. Who knows what this fresh train of thought will lead us, if it loses steam before other sports get a prominent place, then the blame should not come on cricket; if, however, almost extinct sports are rejuvenated, then they will owe one to cricket for bringing their plight into the light.

A lot yet needs to be done, and other sports will most definitely die out if we do not take more sensible steps towards resurrecting them than pointlessly blaming cricket. The devil down below may be ringing the triangular piece of metal for most other games, but the sound coming out most definitely isn’t cricket.

-Aditya MJ

D, FYJC Science

Dos games

 

Computer gaming goes where no other form of entertainment has ever gone before, mostly because it is interactive and you get to be the hero. You get to do things you can never do in real life and that's  the fun part. However, games today are pretty costly and take up a lot of system resources. For someone who uses his computer mostly for work, it is impractical to have around six MB of space for a game that will get pretty boring after some time. And then the high requirements of the games force you to constantly upgrade your system if you want to play them. Classic, old fashioned, dos games come to the rescue. They provide the same intriguing gameplay, and essentially pick the same chords as any other game available in the market. Around fifteen games will fit within a megabyte, and best of all its available on the net for free! Even the serious gamer would enjoy the old fashioned charm. However, if you do not know exactly where to find free dos games, you'll end up wasting a lot of net time going around in meaningless circles and reaching dead ends.

dosgames.com

This site has almost all the games that were created from the dawn of computer games (around 1984!) till the Prince of Persia 2 demo. It has a convenient navigation, with the games divided into 3d shooting, action, adventure, ball and paddle, sidescrolling, miscellaneous, puzzle, educational/kids, RPG, sim, strategy, space shooting and Tetris. The picks of the lot are doom (everyone will remember this), keen (addictive), hocus pocus (really funny) and skyroads (the best). If you are looking for anything specific, you can search or look in the all games index. There is also a page of newest additions which is a very convenient feature if you have downloaded half the site already. Then there are a lost of small games <50 k, and the game makers have excelled themselves here. The Mario brothers is one of the games here, taking only 47 k of your system, but providing hours of overwhelming gameplay. Classics here make you go totally nostalgic, pong, digger, pcman, and the best, volfied. Check out alleycat (1984) also, a little known but a total timepass game. Some of these games will run very very fast on your PC, so you'll need to download a free software called mo'slo from the utilities section, to enable some games to run. Be sure to stop it after playing or your system will continue to go slow and eventually crash.

dosgamesarchive.com

Second choice to dosgames.com, because the games are sorted in alphabetical order, and each page takes a long time to load… Yet a practical site, it has many dos games that dosgames.com does not have. These games include the lion king (I still remember using the dwarf cheat code) Aladdin (as stunning as ever), Abuse, Biomenace and Prince! If you go to this site, it is a must to download the duke nukem series, hexen, dave (yessss!) and the commander keen series. However, you must know the name of the game here unless you want to waste a lot of time wading through pages of needless games. If you are in a mood to experiment, this is where to do it. I tried our catacomb abyss, and was not disappointed. There exists an equally remarkable doom modification here called rouge spear.

Other resources

I wanted a game called comix zone, and could not find it in the two sites above. I went to google search and after some time, found it. However, this is one of the few rare games that are neither in dosgames.com nor dosgamesarchive.com. Usually, if you know a game that is not available in either of the two sites, then the games are not shareware, or not yet freeware or abbandonware (public domain). It’s a good idea to ask friend to e-mail you the old games that still hang around in little visited corners of their systems. I did that with a game called earthworm Jim. If all else fails, google is the best place…

 

At the end of the day, dos games are still thriving and still have as much charm as they had when they were first released. The best way to spend some time when it rains relentlessly outside…

-Aditya MJ

Almost an hour at the bus stop

The last time I had to write something about an hour in a bus stop was in seventh standard, where I was supposed to make up some excuse like ‘the bus I wanted just left two minutes ago and then weave an imaginative story of interesting things that unfolded there while I waited for the next bus which would have come fifty five minutes behind schedule, otherwise it would prove dreadfully unfavourable to my essay. I never imagined at that time, that I would actually ever have the totally unwanted experience of actually spending well, not an hour, but some forty minutes at a bus stop. I wasn’t waiting for any bus at the bus stop, but imagining many ways to trouble my (I flinch to call him that) friend, who had, in his extreme foolishness told me that a library where we were both members of, opened at 9:30. He was wrong by an entire half an hour. I, on a rare occasion of punctuality, reached the place fifteen minutes before 9:30. And found out the correct timings. After I finished cursing my (flinch) friend, I was left with two choices, going out of the building and finding something to occupy myself for three fourths of an hour, or sitting on the posh Mittal towers staircase and looking like a fish in the display counter of a jewellery store (out of the water is a phrase too common for my liking). I, being totally unlike my (flinch) friend, took the wiser option of going out. Once out, I looked left, then looked right. Don’t think I wanted to cross the road; coming to this college everyday has given me the knack of avoiding traffic without going through my kindergarten lessons of looking at both sides before acting like a chicken whose actions people unnecessarily question. I had no intention of crossing the road and In fact, I had no intention at all. I was in a state of total lack of direction. I don’t know why I looked left and then right, but I spotted the bus stop in the process. The bus stop suddenly fell into place. That’s just an expression, it was built, not dropped there, but the thing is, it was an ideal place to sit. I wouldn’t look out of place, and it was a perfect place to wile away time, pretending to wait for some bus. The funny thing is, there was a fish in the window of a jewellery store near the bus stop. Well, it was actually, a gold shark with a ruby-like eye, but that’s the closest you can ever get to get a fish in the jewellery store, that is unless your uncle owns a jewellery store, and you set the fish up just because you are hell bent on proving me wrong. Anyway, the bus stop being more or less on Nariman point, with tall executive buildings, renowned (not yet open) libraries and the world’s largest collection of Chinese snack corners outside China, the bus stop I was sitting was a pretty busy one. But being busy did not imply that it was interesting, because watching people get out every single time the bus stops gets very boring after seeing it about one time. I wondered where all the sheep and cows under the boughs were, now that I had all the time to stand and stare. That’s when actually I felt for the first time that life was indeed so full of care. It was so very boring. (I would have liked to use a stronger word like ‘damn’ instead of the ‘very’ in the previous sentence, but decided that it wouldn’t have been aligned with the cultured sentiments of this publication). Two men were chatting away about their bosses in one corner of the bus stop, and I lost out the more juicier statements as I have limited understanding capability of Gujrati. A young man sitting beside me was reading a textbook of some higher educational level to which I have not been introduced, and it had complicated pictures of some valve used in a chemical plant. It had the top view, the side view and a detailed view, and was labelled with words like “regulating pedal clutch”. But that was about all my dwindled interest would allow me to see. I reduced to the regular pastime of people patiently waiting for something to happen, and began looking at my watch every 3.64 microseconds. Ever heard of the saying a watched pressure cooker never whistles? Obviously you haven’t, but the never-boiling pot is another one of those many things in my hate list. Well, if there was just one thing that I learnt after spending almost an hour at the bus stop, I realised how long it takes for the second needle to journey across the six degrees of a clock-face. I learnt the value of a second, and the good thing was that I did not have to find an Olympic silver-medallist to reveal the value to me. And there was still a good healthy twenty minutes left. The people continued to pour out off whichever bus happened to stop at the bus stop, which was every single that went past it. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it does; don’t think I am Oscar Wilde, at least I don’t believe that a true friend stabs you in the front… With the lack of anything better to do, I bought some groundnuts and started eating them. My eyes were by now following the regular routine of looking left, my watch, right, my watch, and were only disturbed every few minutes when a bus stopped, which was no surprise because I was at a bus stop. Having totally concentrated on the second needle, I now actually looked at the time and noticed that I had only ten minutes of eyeball exercising left, and a wave of hope washed over me, and I resolved never to be so bored again ever in my life, and whenever any free time presented itself, I would do something more useful than finding out the value of a second and cooking up totally revolting expressions involving pressure cookers and fish. Surprisingly enough (though not as much as finding a fish in a jewellery store), the I’m-bored-and-have-nothing-interesting-to-do-time, (or in other words, leisure) came soon enough, and that evening, I did not have to force out any creative juices from wherever they were stored, and had a lot of at least remotely presentable material at my disposal, so I decided to write an article, and this is it.

 -Aditya MJ

First time in a Mumbai local

 

 

The first time I sat in the local train alone was when I was going to my cousin’s place in Santa Cruz. I stood in line for the usual what felt like eighteen hours, and got the ticket from Thane to Santa Cruz. They told me that there would be a lot of rush and that I couldn’t even get in, leave alone get a seat et cetera, the usual stories that are associated with train travelling experience of Mumbai. I caught a ‘dheemi’ local to CST, and to my surprise, got in easily, and got a place to sit too. The train started and I was a bit confused, because people had warned me to wait for the next train if there was too much of a rush. There were a few people around, but one couldn’t exactly call it a rush. Fortunately for me, a person noticed my yellow ticket and asked whether I was travelling using that ticket. As things turned out, I was a ticket less traveller in the first class compartment. I am now a criminal.

Fortunately, I was able to get off in Mulund, against the flow of the people, and then I saw why all their warnings made perfect sense. All the things that I had heard were not half able to describe what it actually was like. I had to catch the next train, and when I was in, I found that someone’s elbow was in my gut, someone’s face pushed hard against my back, and I even wondered if I was standing the right way up. There was this big weight on my chest. That was when the most interesting phase of the journey began. Strictly speaking, it was an experience that justifies every single bit of everything that you have heard about it in about eighteen degrees higher than the highest hyperbolic manner of speaking that you hear it in. I stood just behind the door, and could count no less than twelve heads in front of me, all leaning outside the door, and one person’s hand was obstructing the sign saying that it was dangerous to do what he was doing. Then there was the nose-picking, ear-clearing, eye-goop cleaning, sneezing and other even more undesirable public displays of personal grooming constantly going on in the background, and if you stared at them, they glared right back at you and looked as if they dared you to say anything about it. Then they would put in double the efforts at doing whatever they were doing. Someone sneezed, and the phlegm flew off his nose and landed on the elbow of a person leaning outside the door, and he didn’t notice anything, as he was busy entertaining himself by studying aerodynamics in great detail by cupping his hand and holding it outside the train, perpendicular to his body. I was squeamish after I looked at the gleaming bit of white liquid on his hands that reflected the bright sun outside.

It was a sight that I couldn’t get rid off till Kurla, when a huge chunk of the population got down, and another huge chunk got on. I was vaguely excited about it all, but I don’t know why. I asked someone which side of the train Matunga came, and had to push my way across, hearing a lot of swear words in the process. The train had not even stopped before I found myself on the platform. I had just stood there, suddenly all these people had just got down, and they took me with them.

At Matunga, I went across what they call the Z bridge, which, as I found out, is actually shaped like the letter M, and descended to the Matunga road station, and saw as much of a crowd, if not more, over there. Somehow, I squeezed myself in, thoroughly thrilled and asked someone which side Santa Cruz was going to come. All the people instantly started shouting and urged me to get down. I had climbed into the train going towards Churchgate, and geared myself up to shove my way across again. But it was unnecessary, as soon as I began, people stopped me and told me they wanted to get down at the next station too. It’s a common enough thing now, but I was frankly amazed to see half the train empty itself at Dadar.

From there, I caught another train to Santa Cruz, and this was less crowded, and I got in. I looked around, and there was just this one place to sit, and I wondered why, as there were many people standing, and waiting for a seat. I should have known something was wrong, but I asked my inner voice to shut up, and went and sat there. As soon as I sat down, a slight ripple of laughter went through the people around me. A Gujrati woman in a yellow sari with gaudy and revolting green peacocks on its border said “aa to beisee gayo!” in a jolly, amused inflection, that you see in friends who are bursting with mirth just before they tell a punch line of a joke. I cannot effectively translate that into English, but what it meant was that for some reason, I wasn’t supposed to sit there. I came to know this reason when I got up at Khar road, and noticed that someone had vomited below the seat on which I was sitting…

I know that you won’t care for the following bit of information, but I have to conclude in a tone that is positive at the least to me. I reached Santa Cruz, safely, with no nasty injuries or loss, except for the cap of my water bottle, which happened at Dadar.

-Aditya MJ

Motorbike Lessons

I have somewhat learnt not to die or kill others when I am on the motorbike and not as a pillion rider.  I have also learnt to steer clear of the pillars and sometimes manage even to miss the shrubs. Yeah, I have began to learn to ride the motorbike, and so far it has been a success since no insurance companies have been involved… 

It all started when I went to the library with a very stupid friend (yes, I am selfishly using this resource to insult him) and I had finished selecting the books that I needed. I wanted to go back home, but he was adamant about reading a book from the children's section of the library. The library doesn't allow normal members to borrow from the children's section, so I was forced to stay and, well, read something. I started on a book and stopped after two minutes wondering what Schrodinger had against cats. I picked up another one, but due to the hurry I was in, I got bored of that one also. Then there was this book on motorbikes. Superbikes actually, and I started reading it. 

It kept me captivated while my (I am enjoying this) dull and tiresome friend was going through his second childhood without fully getting out of the first one. The book had pictures and information of many superbikes, There was this big flashy picture of a (I noted the name down) 1992 Suzuki RGV500, which was very inspirational. This was because the bike had a radiator, and (hold your breath) 4 exhaust pipes. As soon as I got home, I asked my father if he could teach me to ride the motorbike. His answer surprised me. (Hey, stop holding your breath, or the ambulance guys will be over). 

I thought I'd do the thing properly. This is a very bad notion if you are setting out to do something. So I dug up a book to get all the technical information on bikes and became well acquainted with brake calipers and telescopic forks. So before we started, I knew it all in theory, so I thought it would be totally easy to try it out.

As things turned out, it totally wasn't. For one thing, it is totally useless to know what a push rod is and for another, a Kawasaki Bajaj has an anatomy that is totally different from a 1994 Husqvarna Motocross TC610. I was so very useless that I dashed into another vehicle as soon as I got it off the stand. I had not even started the machine. I got it out of the stand, felt the weight of the bike on me and totally lost control. Then I got myself onto it. I can handle this, I told myself. And strictly speaking, somehow, I managed to. OK, first time for me, but kick-starting the machine and revving it up was totally awesome. It was pure excitement, it was like you have so much power in you hands. And it wasn't even in gear yet. 

But I never got to put it in gear. End of lesson I. I started it up a few more times and put it on stand etc… the boring stuff.

I'll be on the road soon.

Better get yourselves insured.

Ok, one last time….

My friend is a footrest.

AND I AM LEARNING TO RIDE A BIKE!!!!!

The life of a monster

 

 

With due thanks to a friend for suggesting this topic, and by which I am not sarcastically implying that he has had experience in such matters.

A 'monster' is any creature that refuses to die unless helicopters and missiles are brought in, in a Hollywood movie or a Bollywood b-grade flick. Such monsters can be classified into giant scary seemingly indestructible spiders, giant scary seemingly indestructible snakes, giant scary seemingly indestructible lizards, giant scary seemingly indestructible aliens, giant scary seemingly indestructible somewhat cute monkeys and giant scary seemingly indestructible moving live jelly. Dracula doesn't count (pun intended). Live puppets and werewolves don’t count either. It would have been really nice if I could have come up with and intended pun for those too…

Let us consider the life of another typically average boring monster. Here are its life stories if it was to live in Hollywood and then in one of the movies that Mithun dada releases every two months.

Hollywood thriller: An asteroid from (obviously) outer space creates a small unnoticeable crater in the middle of the remotest smallest most insignificant US owned island in the Pacific. Some exotic local fauna (ELF) comes to investigate and is suddenly possessed by microorganisms that survived in the asteroid. If that were not enough, the remnant radiation from an atomic test nearby also reaches the ELF (please read exotic local fauna, not elf) and some mutations take place transforming it into super ELF, a giant scary seemingly indestructible ELF. Now, super ELF cannot stay quietly in the remotest smallest most insignificant US owned island in the Pacific.

Something draws super ELF to a fairly populated town to which the movie director is closest in location to (the budget is really hampered by all the special effects you know, so its better to travel to the closest big town). So super ELF will go around the Pacific into New York even if Los Angeles is closer. The fishermen in Panama will create chaos when the super ELF passes through their humble waters. It will create ripples of fear in the local towns, but no big thing. Panaman locals are illiterate fools. They're making the whole thing up to draw tourists. So super ELF goes mostly unnoticed into the Atlantic, goes into Manhattan and then the boring stuff begins.

To put the thing in one (OK, somewhat long) sentence, super ELF creates havoc in the city, goes climbs some buildings destroys more, makes the hero meet the heroine, kills the sidekick, goes into hiding, destroys a few more buildings when discovered, the army comes in and finally, it gets killed due to the heroics of well, the hero.

Oh, on the way, super ELF kills a few more sidekicks, to show its power. Actually, one cannot put it in one sentence, a lot of things happen on the way. Super ELF has to tread on some cars, and go one on one with the late twin towers. It also has to sustain some bullets and shells and rockets and missiles and what not till the hero discovers its weak spot. And then super ELF simply has to make the woosies not already bored with the whole thing cry by killing their favorite character, which would be the heroine's dog. And then the heroine begs the hero to kill the super ELF. She does not do it after the hole in the empire state, she does not do it after half the famous Manhattan skyline is rubble. She does not do it after thousands evacuate the city. She does it after it eats her dog. Now it’s the hero Vs super ELF. He turns out to be an expert on ELFs and he knows the way to kill it, which can range from zapping electricity in its mouth to feeding it chicken lollipops. And finally, it dies. But wait! No end of story, super ELF has left behind an egg in the remotest sewer of the city, and it cracks after the credits, making way for super ELF II.

Mithun's pet: This is far more interesting than its Hollywood counterpart. For once, the creature is not affected by microorganisms from outer space or nuclear tests. It is created by a Rakshas, not to be confused with giant. It is created to plague the honest citizens of the local kingdom. The setting is old Indian time when Kings still ruled whatever bit of land they managed to cling on to. Now, the king has a big worry. Not the monster, that’s not his biggest worry, it confines itself to the forest and gobbles up every passerby who dares to venture in not heeding to his mother's sound advice, but it does not go rampaging in his town.

His real worry is marrying off his daughter, and there seems to be no one worthy for her beauty. His minister gives him an idea by which he can kill two birds with one stone and that is to proclaim that any prince who can kill the monster in the jungle can have the princess's hand in marriage. Now the mantri who advises this, has secret plans as he is the Rakshas in disguise and has total control over the creature, he wants to eliminate any competition before he can go take over the kingdom.  The king however finds this idea ideal and he proclaims the proclamation. A lot of veer jawan go and never come back.

Then comes the hero, a local, a son of an ironsmith suddenly discovers his past as being carried away from a castle by an eagle who gives him to the ironsmith and the ironsmith has no aulad, so he takes care of him et cetera.

He is the prince, without the pride and is humble. Oh, by the way, the princess loves him but he's just a lohe ka son till now atleast. So he has to kill the monster for the happy ending, and he does that with the hammer. Sheer bravery and brawn. But Surprise! Mantri ka pravesh, with all jadooi powers and thermocol sets. Sword fighting, horse riding, swimming with crocs ensue, but it’s the aashirwaaad of the hero's maa that does the trick and well, do I even need to say this? - They live happily ever after.

 

 

-Aditya MJ

02 / 05 / 2003

 

April fool's day

I woke up a few days ago on April fool's day with total determination not to get fooled by anything or anyone. The first thing I did that morning was to resolve to scrutinize everything down to the minutest detail before taking any further steps. As it turned out, It was a very successful April fools day because my carefulness paid off, and I was not fooled at all. 

Now if there is one good habit that I have, then it is that I take the trouble to read the newspapers every morning. 

Yeah I even take the trouble to read 'stocks shot down three month low' and all that business rot. That's mostly because of the vacation cheer. Anyway, the thing is that I read the papers and I definitely didn't buy 'US to focus on Kashmir after Iraq war'. First of all, Pakistan does not have much oil to boast of, and well, it was April the first. I was really pleased at myself for not getting fooled. Then there was the ad that the State Bank of India was now passing on the new interest rates to all existing floating rate housing loan customers. I was definitely NOT fooled by that, even though I didn't understand it fully. Or even partly. Actually I didn't understand anything beyond the first three words. My mother took the trouble to explain what the ad meant, and that it was definitely not an April fool's gag, although it had a trick in it because it was a rule that the new interest rates would be passed on to the floating interest rate anyway, and they were making a big show of it. Yeah, I've understood the whole concept now. I won't be fooled by any guy who claims that the interest rates are going down. If and when I get myself a housing loan, you can bet everything you have that I'll opt for the fixed interest rates. And ofcourse, I didn't buy the 'rueful sahib says jet not at fault. 

Till about for o clock I lazed around watching TV. Then I got a call from a friend…

Me: hello

Friend: okay, you can say hi! Man I don't object, I am not into the preserve english stuff…

Me: Yo man, wha'dya wanna do dude? - is that good enough for you?

Friend: that'll dew just fine, anyway come down to the shopping center, we'll play

Me: OK, OK I get the joke already, pick someone else to fool!

Friend: Joke? What joke?

Me: You won't succeed in wooing me into an empty meeting place, the game is up.

Friend: Am I missing out on something here?

Me: Okay, you are a good actor, I know that… I am not your April fool. Go get someone else…

Friend: So today is the first of April? Don't worry, I had totally forgot…

Me: Yeah right ( is my personal punctuation to denote sarcasm, just like ! denotes exclamation, and ? denotes questioning. I wonder why no one had thought of such a thing before…) 

Friend: Okay man BOO. Happy April fool's day, now stop being a dork and come over and play. 

Me: If this turns out to be an April fool's joke, I'm going to kill you..

Friend: Fine! Mutilate me, slash me, cut me into pieces, roast me and eat me. 

So I went. And there he was standing with a football. All alone. Him in a polo sport shirt and a woosy football. Two people cannot play football, if you do not know. So I told him that we couldn't play football with two people. He asked me to relax and that two more friends were coming in a minute, and eight more in five. What actually happened was that three came in fifteen minutes, two more in sixteen, and five in half an hour, but one amongst the ones that came in fifteen went with two of the ones that came in sixteen and came back again in forty five minutes after checking out the new transformer guy in a shop. But by that time two more went, and I cant remember which, to fill air in the ball. We were all together after fifty minutes. With a nicely inflated football. Now the matter remained on who would pay the three rupees to the shopkeeper for inflating the football. We liked to do things properly so it worked out to 30 paise per person…

From then on, I escaped many April fools gags on me. There was the simple, 'pass the ball to me', the totally stupid, 'try to block him'. 'him' was a hefty fellow thrice my weight. Then there was the innovative, 'hey, I am in your team'. And then the 'I really am in your team' etc. Then after the goal was scored, everyone broke into an argument on whose team that particular friend was and well, et cetera and more et cetera. But they couldn't fool me, I know we won. HEY FRIENDS ON THE OTHER (LOSING) SIDE, YOU SHOULD HAVE CONTINUED TO PLAY, GOOFS, IF YOU THINK YOU WOULD HAVE WON… YOU GAVE UP, SO YOU LOSE.

First of April 2003, was a really cool day. For one thing, I escaped so many tries at making myself an April fool, and for another, India has another shot at the world cup because of all those Aussies testing positive for performance enhancing drugs! I would like to take this opportunity for thanking Bombay times for being the first to report the renewed hope, and I would also like to wish our men in blue all the very  very best of luck.