Random Musings

It was very windy today. Windy enough to blow over a Ducati. And that’s windy.

It’s been an interesting month. I haven’t been able to write much because I’ve been snowed under with work. And we’ve just barely begun.

We had a career services class where we were told that us MBA students should have a blog. Where we talk about our strengths, but oh never our weaknesses. We need to market ourselves, after all. Make sure potential recruiters see a carefully vetted profile of ourselves.

Great plan, yeah.

Small hitch, though. I’ve been writing here for five years now. So I’m just going to keep on doing that. If you’re a potential recruiter, please note that I have everything you’re looking for. Call me.

With that little plug out of the way, let us continue.

Yeah, so the month. It’s been crazy fun. I’ve been walking around places that I’d only read about. I take the subway to school everyday, and I don’t mind admitting that I’m still secretly thrilled that I cross both the Harvard and MIT stations everyday.

I’m actually on an MIT organizing committee for this big entrepreneurship thing called the MIT 100K. MIT 100K Website. Go check it out, it’s pretty cool.

School itself is fun too. I’ve been (much to my surprise) enjoying Accounts and Finance. It’s great to interact with people from so many different countries too, I learn something new everyday. There are many nice people, and some not so nice people. Course, you just avoid the not-so-nice ones.

Let’s forget about school though. I can’t really go into detail, and I don’t want to do that either. I’d rather talk about waking up in the mornings and walking to the T station. I walk east, so I have the sun in my eyes when I walk. The streets are not very full at that hour. The weather is odd: cold one day, warm the next. Plays havoc with the sinuses, I can tell you.

And yes, I bought a Kindle. It’s a sweet little device. I’ve already got 2000 books loaded up on it, so I am never out of reading. Even though I don’t have the time, I MAKE the damn time. Yes, I like to read. Seriously though, it is a very nice thing. I’ve already read four books on it, and it really does fade away into the background. You just feel like you’re reading. A book.

Walking around is when I feel nice. Studying is fine, and I’m doing alright, but it’s just nice to be young and exploring new cities. When my fifty year old self reads this, he’s going to remember and smile.

Does that mean I’m going to keep on writing here for twenty more years?

Inspired by something a friend wrote, I have decided to write about basketball, and how I started playing.

This is back in class XII. So that’s about seven years ago.

I was always pretty good at sports, but I’d never played basketball. I mean, sure, I could dribble the ball a bit, and run about on the court, but I did not know the rules, and had never been formally coached.

My good friend Tubby, on the other hand, was a member of the Xavier team, starting five and all that. And the team was pretty good. Zonal and Cluster champs, that sort of thing.

So anyway, I used to play soccer, and volleyball, and all that, and Tubby started telling me to play basketball. He thought I’d do well at it, since I could apparently jump quite high, and I had good stamina and all that jazz.

I’d smile, and fob him off gently when he told me all this, since I thought he was batty, and nothing else. But he persisted, and got after me, and told me that I should try and all that. Basically, he pissed me off, and I finally decided to try, since he was being a pain.

So I turned up for practice. Tubby gave me a glowing recommendation, but the coach did not look convinced. I didn’t blame him, since I didn’t believe Tubby either. I sorta smiled sheepishly, and looked at the ground, at the sky, into the middle distance, anywhere but at the coach.. I knew that if I looked him in the eye, he’d burst out laughing and tell me to take a hike ( in Hindi, and not so politely.. anyone who has been coached in school knows what I mean)

Well, seeing as his star center was recommending me, the coach sorta nodded, and motioned toward the junior court. “Go forth, and play”, was his message. He obviously did not believe that I was any good. I mean, who starts playing in 12th??

Now this was a little raw. The junior court meant that I’d be playing with kids from class 8. Don’t get me wrong, these kids were good, they’d been playing for three or four years, and were very skilful, but hey, they were about six inches shorter than me. But I knew that the coach thought I was an idiot, so off I went.

The kids knew me well, but they knew me as this guy who kept winning debates, and quizzes, and stuff like that.. Not sports!? So while they were polite ( and since I was a senior prefect and could make life miserable for them if I so chose, they HAD to be polite) I could tell that they were thinking that I was some idiot.

Well, while I could not claim to be a basketball player, I could do three things very well.. I could jump, and I could run real fast, and I could steal the ball before they knew what was going on. And hey, a six-inch height advantage always helps. Within the first ten minutes, I’d stolen the ball a dozen times, blocked a whole bunch of shots, and generally pissed the kids off.. They’d stopped trying to simply blow by me, and were passing the ball away every time I came close to them..

So I had a good time, but I did not think that I’d get very far with the team. The coach was watching though. And the next day, when I started heading toward the junior court, he yelled, “Arre NAG! Kahan jaa raha hai.. Idhar aah”. Literally, Where the heck are you going, get your ass over here.

So I started practicing with the senior team. And these guys were GOOD! Four of the first five had played the nationals, and they were taller than me, and approximately a million times better. I knew that I could not compete with them on sheer skill. So I decided to narrow my focus. There was no point my trying to learn how to shoot, or do all the little tricks that came naturally to these chaps. They’d been playing for five years, and I’d just started.

So I played to my strengths. Stamina, a good jump, and fast hands. Defense was where I decided that I could actually make a difference. I could run up and down the court for forty minutes and not be winded (being on the swim team helped.. when you swim 2000mts a day, you naturally learn how to stay alive!), and I could block the shooter. I didn’t even bother shooting, I’d just steal the ball, or grab a rebound and pass it to one of the cool chappies, who’d do something fancy and swish!

Practice used to be at 6 AM.. So that meant getting up at 5, grabbing a hurried bite, and zipping off in the freezing cold morning. I was pretty cheerful, since I knew that my chances of playing on the first five were about the same as a snowball fight in the Sahara. On the other hand, I knew that ymy teammates liked me, and they appreciated the way I played. So it was nice fun.

A couple of months went by, and then came the first tournament…. I got the official school jersey, and boy o boy, was that a good feeling.. My number was 5. We got on the bus, and went off.

The tournament was the Jagat Singh Memorial Trophy, at S.M.S. This was a pretty decent tourney, for the city. We arrived, and did the usual round of warmups. Then the coach called the starting five out, and I headed to the bench, ready to cheer my lungs out.

But wait! What was this? The coach conferred with the team, and then called me over..

“Nag, the other team has this guy who is very good, and the last time we played them, he kept scoring three pointers.. We need you to stick to him like a leech. Don’t do anything fancy, pass the ball if you get it, but just stick to him”

(Translated from Hindi)

Well, a leech I could be! Resolved to be the stickiest, slimiest leech ever, I shrugged off my windbreaker, and joined the first five.. as part of it! Let me tell you, I was bloody nervous. I was very afraid that I’d mess things up, and be yelled at, and I had a funny feeling in my tummy, and my hands were sweaty and shaking, and I had this lump in my throat….

My team mates noticed my nervousness and told me not to worry.. They said that I would tire the daylights out of the chappie that I was being set to guard, and that they would take care of all the scoring.. just keep out of their way

The match began.. and I stuck to my man. And stuck. And stuck. And STUCK. I followed him around everywhere, like a sweaty shadow. I stuck my hand in his face, stole the ball, and blocked his shots. I had no idea what was going on in the game. I just kept silently telling my opponent one thing:” Dude, you are NOT going to score”

And I did run him ragged.. Halfway through the second half, I could see him flagging. He was moving slowly, his breathing was all uneven, and it was obvious that he was done…The next ten minutes were very pleasant. I smiled a lot, and jogged about with him. All very genteel..

And at the end of the match, Xavier’s won 68-40 or something like that. How many points did I score? None, of course.. But I had 6 steals, 8 blocks, and a huge bunch of rebounds.

And the guy I was guarding? He scored 5 points. The last time he’d played us, he had top scored with 28..

And that was how I became a part of the first five.

I played only a few tournaments, since I passed out shortly afterwards, but we won every one of them, and I played each and every match, and was the only guy who was not substituted out in every one. I was never tired enough, you see.. And I even scored a few points, an average of 2 baskets a game

I was awarded over a hundred certificates in school and college, for many things. But the one with the crest of St.Xavier’s and the words “Excellence in Basketball” is the closest to my heart.

The last month has been crazy. Travelling between Delhi and Jodhpur as if I were travelling between the hostel and the mess. Attending class, playing basketball, trying to get some work done, and watching the days go by.

I’m finally back in my room after a week of travel and craziness, and I’m weary.

I participated in the Google Wordmasters challenge, and that was fun. I have no clue how I did, since I don’t know what they are looking for, but I had fun writing about old science fiction movies. And robbie the robot.

Played Monopoly, and managed to get lots of money without a single card. A few strategic partnerships, and bob’s your uncle.. Spoke about the Lord of the Rings, and fantasy and science fiction, and Asimov. ate and ate and ate and ate… and ate.

Helped a friend in trouble, and watched the devil wears prada. Got to know my sister in law a little better, and saw how my brother is very happy. Missed home a lot, and missed mom more than that.

Actually asked a girl out for a date, and realized that I should not bother. I can’t do the usual things, and I think I come across as rather pathetic for even trying. Well, I might not be that bad, but in any which case, I’m not the usual sort. Which is good, and bad, and miserable, and ecstatic all at once.

Met some Pakistani people, and debated them on a host of issues. Lost some, won some, and made some friends. Came on TV, briefly, and got fifteen milliseconds of fame, as the camera panned across my face. Spent all my money, and watched friends get drunk and goofy, and break through their normal reserved self’s.

Watching the weather change, and winter approach, as the days get shorter, and the air gets keener, even as the sun shines furiously, trying hard to prove that it is still the king! A losing battle, but one that has been fought since time immemorial.

Oh well, that’s that. Write to me someone, and let me know you exist.