Sunday 27 August 2017

Outdoor@Indoor.com

That’s a case of liberty taken by a writer when he writes Indore as Indoor just to ensure the title is catchy but still relevant to the story he wishes to share with you today.

It was my first official visit to Indore so I sent a text to Hemant, a longtime friend, who hails from the city, “Going to your city.” “Welcome to the Cleanest City,” was his immediate one line response.  A second message was sent to the office colleague working there, Himanshu, informing him of my travel plans. Pronto came his response as well, “Welcome to the Tasty City.” My plans other than those that were official were mentally chalked out…to screen the streets and taste the food of Indore.

The problem with such plans is time…one day flying visit with the Maharaja Airlines grounding you for over two and half hours at Mumbai before takeoff leaves you gasping especially when there are back to back meetings lined up including in-city travel. Moving from one agent to another, one broker’s place to another however convinced me that we are idiots living in so called metropolis like Delhi, Mumbai, Kolkata and Bangalore…Indore has some of the best infrastructure and the best and broadest roads. Even the old part of the city which usually is crammed and dingy is blessed with good roads. No where will you find any filth or even plastic bags strewn across the road or sidewalks.  So I asked Himanshu, how is this possible?

Sir, the civic administration is very particular about cleanliness. The ‘Halla Gaadi’ or the noise car is seen everywhere and is named because of the loud blaring sounds it makes to announce its entry and picks up kachara round the clock. If they find litter at any place, they will fine the person whose shop or home is closest. People are so fearful of the fines that they constantly clean the place near their residence and work even if they have not dirtied the place themselves. No one wants to be fined and hauled up. This has been going on for some time, now it has become a part of attitudinal change in the inhabitants of this city…cleanliness is next to godliness.”

Himanshu narranted a personal experience of his. He said since both his wife and he go out to work early morning, they had a problem in the halla gaadi coming to their vicinity to pick up daily kachara at ten in the morning. “I called up the helpline and told them of my problem and since then the Halla Gaadi comes at 8am every day at my place.” I was completely choked for words…if one common man’s complaint about timing of the pick-up truck is taken so seriously here, no wonder the city can claim to be the Cleanest City in the country if not the world.

Texted Hemant, who I always knew to be an honest man, that today his city had passed the cleanliness test ….Welcome to Indore. So the first test the city had passed with flying colours. Now it was time to test the Taste.

My first taste with the food left me pretty much confused. Since we did not have enough time to savour the best of the city’s food, we landed ourselves for lunch at Ginger Ganesha…are you confused and bemused…yes I too was with the name. I was told that the place serves vegetarian South Indian and Chinese. How on earth could someone mix up aginomoto with curry leaves and tamarind? No wonder the taste of Smokey Hakka Masala Dosa did not augur well for the second certification that I was to do. More than the food was something which must be said about the way you make payments in the digital world here. I gave my debit card to the waiter who most diligently took it to the payment counter from where the man who had swiped my card shouted, “ Sir number bataiye!” “What!! PIN number who shouts out in a place full of strangers? That’s supposed to be secret.” My colleagues told me that at Indore this style of openly announcing your PIN is in vogue. I politely refused and walked up to the payment counter to key in my PIN much to the amusement of the luncheon friends and hotel manager.

By the time my various meetings and reviews ended it was almost 8pm. Options of going out were two. The first preference is what all tourists and visitors do…go to Chappan Dukan. This is a must visit place for all types of namkeens, sweets and snacks. The day here starts at 6am everyday with Indore’s breakfast Poha being served everywhere and goes on till 10pm, it is forever crowded. Chappan Dukan literally means 56 shops which was the number of shops when it was originally started. Now things have changed from small to big ones, owners have changed but if you count the number of pillars between shops, you will see there are actually 56 shops.

Much against the wishes of my other office colleagues, I chose to go to Sarafa Bazaar that night for the real taste of Indore. Sarafa Bazaar is a jewellery market at day time (till 8pm) and converts itself into a street food court at night which goes on till the wee hours of the morning. After a quick shower, hailed a cab to reach Rajwada with two office colleagues. Rajwada was the official residence of the Holkars who ruled Indore and Malwa in the 18th and 19th centuries. Indore was founded by Malhar Rao Holkar who was commander of Peshwa Bajirao 1 in 1739. His daughter-in-law, Ahilyabai moved the capital to Maheswar in 1767, however with the defeat of Holkars in 1818 in the Battle of Madhipur, the capital again shifted to Indore.


As you enter the small galli, passing by the Masjid, you see a buzz of activity over 500 metres away. You can see the closed shutters of the jewellery shops which have done their business during the day. Beyond a point no vehicles are allowed inside as gastronomy reigns. It is love at first sight with sweets and snacks everywhere…garma garam gulab jamuns kept beautifully in a huge pan full of chashni, lying beside is equally enchanting pan full of malpua…we could have been brim full by the first few shops itself and so we controlled ourselves…controlled our cravings and I can tell you it is sinful here.


Our first stop was Joshi’s shop enjoying Dahi Vade and  Bhutte ka Kees. Seeing the quantity being served the three of us asked for one plate of each of the items. The Dahi Vade was made beautifully with Joshiji chucking the plate up in the air, catching it like a trained juggler and then filling up the same with handful of dahi and vade with topping of sev and multiple spices. Butte ka Kees is grounded corn mixed with masala…don’t ask anyone about what masala they use…they will all tell you it is a family secret preserved over centuries. The taste was better than anything we had tasted before. Getting to know Tasty City better now…


Opposite Joshi’s shop were colourful looking ice creams. A closer look revealed these were ice-paans with names like Butterscotch, Green Apple, Orange, Litchi, Strawberry and, of course the current favourite of children, Chocolate paan.


As we walked past alu tikkis being fried and fruits charts beautifully decorated, we were lured by a small shop selling sweets. We picked on a plate full of rabadi which was not too sweet and tasted so good that we could have had a couple of plates more. My eyes then fell on a pan where ghee floated and beneath it was some brown coloured substance. “Is that moong daal ka halwa?” I asked in amazement and Himanshu said yes and this, too, is a must eat. A plate of this halwa , not just soaked in ghee as you would find in the northern part of the country, but drowned in ghee here was better than anything I have ever had. Felt like packing some for home but then knew the ghee would definitely leak out and the stain and smell would remain forever.

“Now what is that? Looks like jalebi but is huge!” “That is jaleba, the big size jalebi.” Let me tell you that this was not big size but huge. How could anyone have one of these was my question. These looked delicious but I told the shopkeeper,”Chotta milega kya?” And our man quickly made me a chotta jaleba which was 20 times the size of the normal jalebi. No matter how much you tried, the sweet liquid will sprinkle out of the hot jaleba like a shower and soil your clothes. By now what mattered was the food , cleanliness took a backseat for us now. The three of us tried hard but failed to finish one Jaleba. Himanshu has invited me again in January in the peak of winter when he says all you need to drink is one big glass of milk that has been sweetend and condensed over hours on the fire with one jaleba…you will not feel the cold any more. I told him, “Zinda rahe to thand lageygi na,” ( After eating so much will I  hardly feel the chill as I may not live after the gorging).  In all decency we wrapped the remaining jaleba and dropped it in a bin after a while. Surprisingly even in this busy street food court, cleanliness was not forgotten. Every vendor had a bin and not a single plastic bottle, tissue paper or wooden spoon could be seen on the road below.


Having had our quota of mithai, we went on to a side lane when we saw Aadesh Parantha Center. Long time since I had a real good parantha so I asked our man, “Special kya hai?” he suggested Shahi Parantha and I went along with his choice. Saw the man mixing the dough with a handful of mashed potato, a thick layer of paneer and two handful of Sev or mixture…nothing is complete in this city without Sev. The parantha was put on a big pan and once properly cooked was almost covered with a couple of spoons of ghee with grated cheese on top. I am sure the Shahi Holkar’s would have ruled a couple of centuries more if they had not been eating all this stuff and used the time better to improve their martial skills. Here’s the parantha plate as we were to eat.


If you think this was all a man could have on a single night, you are sadly mistaken. Himanshu took us to another small thela wala who made for us sabudana khichadi. For those who think you eat this when fasting will realize how wonderful this is. The man not only gave us the khichadi but put on the side potato chips, lots of dhaniya and pudina and a handful of masalas. Eating this makes you wonder, why shouldn’t we create our own KFCs and McDs with Indore’s famed street food…are any of the venture capital givers listening to this one big Make In India idea?


There was no more place left…honestly we had over eaten and it was well past 11 pm. The crowds were now beginning to come in. The place comes to life post midnight…we were early birds. So on our way we felt really heavy and we saw lemon soda being made in completely desi style. The man would add lemon to the water kept in a bottle, shake it well before putting it inside a metal tube which looked like a small sized bazooka and did something which I couldn’t guess but when the bottle was taken out and the contents poured into a glass, it produced the biggest and best fizz for a drink which led to a number of awkward sounding grunts and belching which was certificate enough that the food was real good.

Indore Stamped…Tasty City.

Next morning we had to leave early for Bhopal and I made sure that my breakfast included the famed Poha with Jalebi…you just can’t visit this city and avoid this staple diet. It is like visiting Rome and not seeing the Colosseum. Someone said that many people make poha but the taste of poha at Indore is different and is the best…it may be because of the water there. Someone at Mumbai opened a shop selling poha using Indore water that they would procure but he still failed miserably. There is something special about the city which just can’t be explained.

Now I am waiting for my winter travel to the city of Holkars, Hemant and Himanshu…of Royalty, Cleanliness and Mouth Watering Taste.


SS

Sunday 20 August 2017

Making Moves

Batu was like another four year old kid, living in a government colony at Munirka, New Delhi. He would go to school, play cricket whenever time permitted and watched the television for the cartoon shows. Being close to JNU, one of his father’s close college friends, Vinayak, who was teaching International Studies there would land up at their home quite often for dinner. On one such visit, Vinayak, who himself was an accomplished chess player presented Batu with a magnetic chess set. The kid at first enjoyed the new toy and would move the pieces like a car, making sounds like vroom and swoosh. Vinayak spent some time with the kid and slowly showed him the different pieces and how they moved. By the tenth sitting, the four year old kid beat Vinayak. It was then that Vinayak asked Batu’s father to work on the talented kid on this game of sixty four squares. Initially the father paid little heed but by now the kid developed interest in the game and the fairy tale continued.
Batu, born on 9th Feb 1993, became Junior India Champion and by 2002 was soon crowned the Asian Youth Chess Champion. He achieved Grand Master title at the age of 13 years and 142 days in 2006, becoming the second youngest chess Grand Master. Batu went on to win many more titles and championships across the globe where his father would take him along and in 2010, was awarded the prestigious Arjuna Award when he was just 17 years old. It was quite an achievement at such a tender age. Batu was destined for greater glory and the man standing behind him was his father who would go from one corporate to another, one PSU to another to seek funds for the boy to travel and get the best possible coaching to succeed in this highly competitive sport. It was an expensive game at the top level but the father never backed down. He was a man possessed to ensure his son got the best and had to never worry about anything other than playing at ease and at peace to deliver the best winning results.
Batu, the child prodigy, or should we for now call him Arjun after the award he won, gradually broke into the elite top 100 of world’s chess players. He was now rubbing shoulders with the best in the business and was also playing in top form at times beating the players in the top 10. The world was his playground and Arjun was the Master who played to win. Suddenly when he was in an ascendant mode, Arjun was at crossroads and had a conversation with his charioteer father or should we for now call him Krishna. Almost a repeat of the Mahabharata scene at Kurukshetra as Arjun faced the best warriors and Batu too faced the best players in front, he literally laid down the Gandiv or his bow. Krishna then spoke of the eternal truth through what we now know as Bhagawad Gita, the story today was quite different. Here’s an excerpt of the modern day Partha Arjun and his Parthasarathi, his Fatherly Krishna. The Sanskrit quotes included are correct but the English translations for the sake of the conversation have been modified to suit the story:
Arjun: “na yotsya iti govindam, na yotsya iti govindamHey Govind, the very thought of war on the chessboard itself gives me grief and I feel dejected, therefore, I will not play anymore.” 
Krishna: “Hey Arjun, you grieve for those for matters that should not be grieved for and yet seemingly speak like a wise man.”
Arjun: “nimittaani ch pashyaami vipritaani Keshav…Hey Keshav! Wherever I look, I see nothing but evil and unpleasant omens in the upcoming hard battles on the board and the life beyond.”
Krishna:  “Karma-yogi does not care for omens. He is unattached to everything because he neither rejoices victories nor does he ever feel dejected in defeat.”
Arjun“In this game, I do not foresee any good resulting from my playing any more but bring grief to my friends and family. Victories will be far and few, defeats at the hands of super champions will happen more often going forward.” 
Krishna: “sarva-dharmamapi chaavekshya na vikampitum-arhasi…there is nothing more welcome to a champion player than to play in the right manner, Arjun. One’s own duty though devoid of merit is preferable to the duty of another well performed, because even defeat in the performance of one’s duty brings happiness.”
Arjun: “na kaankshe vijayam krishna na ch raajayam sukhaani ch…But I do not covet victory, being crowned or even luxuries. And these luxuries and victories will be short lived, at best another 5-10 years. Look, to lead a luxurious life while playing chess is only possible when you can break into top-10 bracket. Vishy (Viswanathan Anand) was in top-10 by the time he was 20. Then he took a risk by shifting his base (Spain). But chess is a cerebral game where people are now leaving the sport by 35. No longer can you be in top rung in your 40s and 50s.”
"Nowadays, chess is all about preparing on different openings. It takes a toll on your mind and body. I know I can reach higher position but I want to now take a fresh leap into the world of academics. I have got my admission to Stanford and will concentrate on doing good in the new world which will hold me in good stead for a long time, much beyond what chess will ever do. ”
Krishna heard Arjun’s plans. He saw a complete turnaround by his son and dreams they both cherished being lost forever. But then he could see that Arjun had taken a thoughtful and calculated decision and so it was his fatherly duty to now back his son’s move enthusiastically.
Krishna: “Happy are the champions who obtain such an unsolicited opportunity of playing at this level and then decide to give up everything and pursue another different life. Stand up Arjun and perform what your heart seeks of you with peace in thy soul. I agree that continuing this game will definitely lead you to a difficult life ahead. It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection.”
Arjun: “nashto moha smritir labdhaa tvat prsaadnmyaa achyut, sthito asmi gat sandeha karishye vachanam tav…After hearing your discourse, my delusion born out of ignorance is destroyed and O the Unchanging One, by Your grace, I have recollected my memory. My doubts are gone and from now on, I shall surely put in my life and soul into the new academic world I step into. Chess will take a backseat and academics will be my priority.”
“Hey Govind, as a friend, charioteer and counsellor, you have performed your duty well. Ready and eager for the upcoming battle, my mother and brother must be anxiously waiting for us. Therefore, Hey Madhusudan, please take my chariot near them so that I may blow my trumpet, the conch-shell Devadatta and begin to worship the All Pervading and the Nameless One by performing my new found duty.”
Arjun or Parimarjan Negi was rated 2650 FIDE and ranked in the top 100 in the world and had talent enough to break into top 20 but the climb would have been extremely tough and uncertainty was there about the time it would take to reach. Parimarjan was always a bright student in school when he decided to give up his life’s passion to seek long term sustainable success in life through the path of education. At Stanford he is now a rising senior, was immediately sold on Computer Science (CS) as his primary field of study when he arrived on campus. According to the Indian-born Grand Master, “CS is a very logical choice for chess players because it’s all about problem-solving.” 
Recently in an interview Batu, as he is fondly called at home, said “When I set foot on campus freshman year, someone told me that you can only choose two out of three things: a) academics, b) socializing, or c) sleep. I chose academics and sleep.”
When Parimarjan first began his studies at Stanford, he was a “complete outsider”—as if a 1600-rated player tried playing in a tournament with masters. “I was at the bottom of my class,” he said. “But I remembered how I used to pour hours and hours into studying the game and eventually got better. When you’ve had the experience of grinding for five hours just to hold a draw, you don’t get frustrated with several hours spent debugging a program.” The task of buckling down, doing the work and patiently waiting for the results was no longer daunting. He had done it before. Three years later, Parimarjan strolls comfortably in and out of the computer science department and is even considering a Ph.D. in the field. 
We will never know if Chess lost a potential World Champion. The Charioteer father, who happens to be a close friend, is so excited that his Arjun is doing what his heart wants. Happy for Batu who we wish all the very best in life, but sad that sports lost a champion to studies…
 
Checkmate…game lost.
SS

Sunday 6 August 2017

Neymar Da


Neymar just moved from FC Barcelona to PSG for a whopping $222m Euros. Messi has stuck to his tiki taka club and so has Christiano Ronaldo. Undoubtedly the three would rank among the best footballers of our times. They play brilliant soccer mixing skill and speed which mesmerises opponents across the globe. No one doubts their talent but then surely in their minds one thing must be troubling them…they’ve never won the greatest trophy in the world…the FIFA World Cup.

It was the summer of 83 when two friends were sitting on the green grass of Hindu College in Delhi watching a friendly football match against St. Stephens College. Nothing between the two colleges across the street could ever be friendly like the Ashes….no no that’s not a good example but maybe comparable to Indo-Pak contests where none wanted to lose and victory catapulted the victors to a higher plane and losers were rubbished into the dustbin of history.

The two had bunked class to watch the match as they were upset with the education system in general and their own performance in the first year of college. They had worked hard throughout the previous year going from one library to another. Sometimes it was the college library at other times it was the Central Secretariat Library and then at times even the Indian Council for Historical Research Library where they compiled notes after notes on subjects in Ancient Indian History and Chinese History. They were determined to do well in academics and sports and other distractions were put in the back burner. These notes they read, the thick books they scanned made them feel well prepared for the exams. When the examiner handed over the question paper, the two were overjoyed….they knew all the answers as as they had done their research extensively. As the time started, the pen was raised but after a couple of lines they realised they did not know where to start and where to end. Soon the easy question paper became difficult as structuring an answer with too much information and time limitation led to them just about passing the exams with the narrowest of margins. At Delhi University only those with standard set tutorials passed over the ages, mugged up well and vomited on the answer sheet verbatim was the route to success. Hard work, research and too much information was a bane.

The match progressed and St. Stephens put up an aggressive and fast paced performance and in the end defeated Hindu in their own college grounds two goals to nil.  Seeing the plight of their own college team the two budding historians decided that they will play rather than waste time on books, try to get selected for the college football team. So the very next day the two idiots landed in their soccer gear where the team was warming up. They went to the coach Mr. O.P. Datta to ask if they could also practice with the team and try for selection. He readily agreed and so the two set about showcasing their skills. While Ranjeev played as a goalkeeper, the other fellow who all called Dada took to left wing position as a forward. Within a couple of days, the coach was convinced of their abilities and gave them a couple of breaks in a few friendlies. The real test came within ten days of becoming regulars in the squad, a re-match with St. Stephens. By the time the match ended the college erupted in celebrations and students were talking of a Dada,as most Bengalis are addressed, who almost won the match single handedly with his one goal and two good passes both of which were converted. Stephens was thrashed 3 nil, the revenge was complete and a hero was born.


From then on began a journey which lasted four years through graduation and post-graduation where Dada’s day would start by packing the football gear into the small bag and taking the 7.20 am U Special, landing on the ground by 8.30 am, practising till noon, going to the cafeteria for the well-earned snacks coupon that entitled you to an omelette with 4 to 6 eggs, bun and cold drinks. Bread pakoras, desi alu burgers and chai were other options. If you are wondering what happened to History classes? Those had become history, for playing in the college eleven meant attendance was never a problem. The two were never seen in class and at times they made their guest appearance, they ensured the lecturer would throw them out on grounds of disrupting and distracting the class. But that did not deter the Two Idiots from pursuing their life’s passion of playing the joga bonito or the beautiful game.

Moving fast forward, it was November of 88. Dada had hung up his boots and joined the financial sector at Kolkata. He had come to Delhi from his work place at Kolkata to give the Civil Services Mains examinations. He had a couple of days to prepare when a post card popped up and rattled him up….the current captain of Hindu College football team, Pankaj, had sent a hand written invitation for the Inter-College Finals to be held at Chahatrasal Stadium between Hindu and PGDAV College. It was a wonderful piece of news but why did Dada get disturbed? Pankaj was a junior in the team when he was at his peak leading the college team to many a victory. They had won championships at BITS Pilani, IIT Delhi, International Cup, Delhi Soccer League and many more. They not only won but Dada had a considerable impact on the results as the main scorer-scored after dribbling many a defender, scored from free kicks, corner kicks and cracking unstoppable headers. He was often a marked man and was chopped down by rival defenders but Dada still managed to score and win. Winning Man of the Match and Best Player awards was a regular feature.

The post card had, however, brought back many a happy memory but also the memory of a day when Dada played the last match in college colours. It was the semi-finals of the Inter College Championship in 1987 and Hindu College was looking like a champion side winning all the league matches and quarter finals easily. Plus they had beaten their semi-final rivals, SRCC, in a few friendlies earlier. The match got its importance from the fact that they had never reached the finals and the man who had built up the team being its main player had one more chance to score in an inter-college match. For four long years he had played magnificently for the college winning accolades and trophies but scoring in an inter college match had eluded him. He came close many times, many a time the ball hit the cross piece and at times the goal keeper made brilliant saves and then there were times when he missed sitters. He felt the team had not won the championship only because he hadn’t scored ever in the three preceding years. This was his chance to redeem himself and give back to the college the only missing trophy in its coffers.

Dada reached the football ground at Civil Lines well before the other team members arrived. He walked around the field from goal post to another, saying a small prayer at each end. He was tense as sleep had eluded him that night for being a failure was not acceptable to him. He was determined to set history right today. If he scored today, his team would be in the finals and that would be a great way to end his soccer career at the college. Slowly the others came and so did the crowds. The coach called Dada aside and told him,” Beta khul ke khel. Goal hoga aur tu karega aaj. Hum jitenge aur jashn manayegey (Son, play freely without any pressure. Today you will score and we will win and celebrate).” Dada nodded and went about getting ready for the match. He slipped into his stockings and laced up the boots and prayed one more time as he wore the college jersey. He always wore number 7 on his back not the usual number 10 which was made famous by Pele and thereafter adorned by the best players in every team since then.

The match began and both teams played a rough game with one player after another coming almost to arms to be separated by the referee. Dada, however, was running hard and passing the ball well. SRCC had put a stout but speedy player to mark Dada and every time he got the ball, the maker would aim a kick at Dada’s legs. Everyone knew Dada never wore a shin guard and was most vulnerable to the studs hitting there and getting injured before being substituted to the relief of the opponents. But Dada lived dangerously and hardly ever got injured in a game. But today was different. The other person was not interested in playing football but was intent on playing more of kabaddi where he would pull the jersey, shorts, push, shove and often aim his step on the shin. The first half ended in a dull draw and at lemon break Mr. Datta told the boys to play their own game and not get into fights on the ground. “Hold the ball and find gaps and then pass the ball to Dada, Chander and Inder in front and they will score.”

The second half began and Hindu suddenly looked a different team playing good passing football with Munish in the midfield at the heart of the game. But Dada was still unable to break the stranglehold of the marker who in one tackle kicked him from behind. The usual cool Dada went wild and ran back to confront the marker while abusing him in the choicest of expletives. The referee was quick to put his hand in the top pocket and showed Dada a yellow card. Dada was now under even greater pressure as time was ticking away and one more card meant his being thrown out of the ground by the referee, a most dishonourable way of ending a glorious career. Just when everything looked lost, a beautiful lob into the box came his way….he was no more than six feet away from the goal and a gentle nod with his head would have put the ball into the net. Dada wouldn’t take a  chance and he bent his back and with the greatest of force his neck could generate headed the ball as hard as anyone could….the ball zoomed past the  last defender and caught the goalkeeper stranded….thud…as it hit the side post and went out for a goal kick. The golden opportunity was lost and SRCC scored the very next minute in a one off move killing the game. Hindu played the game with the other losing semi-finalist and won the third place. Dada did not take to the field that day.

Dada kept Pankaj’s invitation post card with him and saw it many times during the day. He even got ready to go to witness the college finals that he himself never got to play but then stayed back for he thought and was convinced he was the bad omen for the team. Despite being the best team in all the four years he played, the team never reached the finals and today was the big day for Pankaj, Munish and others. He would not let his dark shadow bring ill luck to his team he loved. He stayed home and next morning he ran to pick up the newspaper thrown at the balcony of his house and opened the sports page. In one corner he saw, “Hindu College Wins Inter-College Football”. Dada shed tears of joy as he hid his sobbing face behind the paper. The college had won, the game had won….his boys had won but not him….the pain remained forever.

Today, Pankaj, the victorious Captain of the team, is now a Brigadier in the Indian Army. Munish, the midfielder, is a successful businessman. Brothers Chander and Inder, striking partners of Dada, are doing what they always loved, training youngsters as coaches of their respective colleges. Incidentally Chander is the sports in-charge at Hindu College itself. Ranjeev, the goalie, joined the Indian Army, was at one time deputed for a while to the Indian Navy to fly choppers (Army, Navy & Air Force all at the same time) and is now a pilot with a private airlines. Dada works at Mumbai. He is a happy man most of the times except when he gets reminded of his biggest failure in life especially when it mattered the most, for a game he loved the most. It will be something that he will take to his grave with the epitaph on his tombstone reading:

“Here lies the Man who Played Well But Could Never Score.”


SS