Sport - Skill, Excellence, Entertainment...! Safe?

Sport, as a popular internet encyclopedia defines, includes all forms of competitive physical activity or games which, through casual or organised participation, aim to use, maintain or improve physical ability and skills while providing enjoyment to participants, and in some cases, entertainment for spectators.

While the World over, sports enthrals billions in various forms, some are quite barbaric causing physical injury and some are totally dependent on technical strengths like Motor racing. Skill plays a major part in sports - both mental and physical, however, there is always room for improvement. Sportspersons thrive hard to achieve success through relentless practice in pursuit of glory at the highest stage. 

The thrill and excitement created by the sport to its followers is the stimulant that draws spectators and money in Billions. 

Every sport has an element of risk in it, an element that rushes the adrenaline of both the sportsperson and its unabashed followers. One of the aspects that are governing the world of sports is the issue of safety. How life-threatening is a sport? An F1 car crash, a broken jaw of a boxer or a 5 and a half-ounce of leather hit by a marauding cricketer hitting a cheering kid in the stands... Every one of them has its perils, but ones that have been kept in check, most times. What baffles me is why do some sports exist?

That brings me to the incident in Kerala during a sports meet recently. Abheel Johnson was serving as a volunteer for the javelin throw event at the State Junior Athletic Meet. Since the hammer and javelin throw events were held simultaneously and the venues were near each other, Abheel couldn’t escape when the hammer, which was thrown by a participant, came directly to him. The hammer, weighing around 3kg, fell on his head from a distance of nearly 42 metres. Though he was rushed to the Government hospital and doctors performed emergency surgery, his health condition never showed any significant improvement. He eventually breathed his last. An accident caused by a 'sport' that can never be classified as a sport!

Hammer throwing, one of the throwing events in track and field, was developed into a sport centuries ago in Ireland, Scotland, and England. Legends trace it back in various forms to the Tailteann Games held in Tara, Ireland, around in 1829 BC. Centuries later Celtic mythological hero Cuchulainn was said to have gripped a chariot wheel by its axle, whirled it around his head, and threw it farther than any other mortal. Wheel hurling was later replaced by throwing a boulder attached to the end of a wooden handle. Among the ancient Teutonic tribes, forms of hammer throwing were practised at religious festivals honouring the God Thor.

Unlike international sports circuits, the safety aspect of hammer throwing is much debatable. The mandatory safety net around the thrower is minimally visible in training centres, The trajectory or the angle of the throw on the field too is quite unpredictable. 

The shot put and Javelin throwing events have acceptability of the landing area and I find it reasonable to be continued as a 'sport' showcasing one's physical strength in hurling objects. However the same cannot be said of the hammer throw. So, what is achieved through this throwing sport but for replicating the whirling of a chariot wheel with its axle of a bygone primitive era?

When tragedy strikes sportspersons, as has been the case from Raymond Chapman to Ayrton Senna to Sarah Burke to Philip Hughes and many more, we're often reminded that the athletes are not just a statistic in the game's annals, they are human beings. Then there are incidents that have effected the spectators, the bystanders, the involuntary participants in sport.

It's time to revisit the definition of sport - Hammer throwing for one is not!

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Pics: Internet

Surprise at the Airport!

Monday early morning flight home

She had completed her second semester of Masters in Health Psychology and Cognition. It was a long break before she came back for the final stint in the university. Nikitha decided to spend the 8 weeks holiday with her mother back home in India. Bidding goodbye to the North Carolina University campus was tough, for now. She had some wonderful time there and over the past few months, learnt a lot of new things, grew to love the university and the life in the campus. She had a new friend who really made her feel at home.

Sarayu stayed 50 km from the University in a little suburb. She was from Bangalore and was studying with Nikitha, they both were travelling back together up to Mumbai on Monday. Over the weekend both went shopping for gifts for their family, Sarayu bought a gift for her aunt who stayed in Hyderabad and Nikitha volunteered to hand it over to her. After shopping, they had dinner together at a Chinese restaurant and stayed overnight at Nikitha's room, where they saw a spooky mystery movie that scared them to wits.

Sunday morning, Sarayu left for her home, the plan was for Nikitha to pick her up at 11.00pm on her way to the airport for the 3.30 am flight.

The day went by with packing her suitcases, cleaning up the room, putting away her books and study material in the racks. Nikitha was tired and it was 5 pm when she finished, she had coffee and slept for a while. A couple of hours later, she woke up startled, images from the previous night's movie haunted her, seemed more like a nightmare. There was eerie silence in the room, which was dark. She switched on the lights and looked outside the window; the streets were deserted. Suddenly she felt scared, a chill ran down her spine. The loneliness was uncomfortable and she desperately wanted to have company.

Nikitha showered and hurriedly had sandwiches for dinner and decided to leave early to meet her friend, and from there to the airport.

At 9 pm she booked a taxi and left for Sarayu's home. Her mind was racing, she did a quick checklist of all the things she had packed and the double checked her handbag for the flight tickets, passport and other documents. they were all in place. A half hour later as she paid the taxi and reached Sarayu's apartment on the 3rd floor, she was shocked to see the door locked. She quickly dialled her mobile. It was switched off. There was a note on the door which said, "Away for 8 weeks"!

Why did she leave two hours before she was to be picked up? Why didn't she inform her? Hope everything was alright? Nikitha couldn't control her thoughts. As she alighted the elevator and walked on to the porch, she tripped on a flower pot and fell. She got up, grabbed her bags and suitcases and ran towards the gate to a waiting taxi. "Airport"! she screamed and hopped in with her luggage. It was over an hour's drive. Midway, as the taxi pulled into a gas station for refuelling, she hopped out and entered the convenience store. She bought a can of orange juice and as she rummaged through her handbag to pay, she went pale. The passport was missing.

The shock didn't last long as the clerk at the payment counter handed her passport and said "here, is this what you are searching?" Nikitha stood dumbfounded. "How did it land with you”? she asked. The lady said, "never mind, you have a good flight". She was perplexed and a strange feeling encompassed her. She got back into the taxi and felt the driver was smiling. Why was he smiling, did he know anything about the passport? She didn't dare to ask and looked out of the window. The stars in the dark sky were shining bright. Thoughts of going back home and meeting mom, friends, coffee at her favourite joint momentarily brought a smile on her face. She had hardly closed her eyes with the thoughts when the bright lights of the airport ahead made her sit up.

She reached the airport around 10.45pm it was bustling with passengers travelling to various parts of the world. At the entrance, the security handed her a can of orange juice and said: "You forgot this"? Nikitha stood in her tracks! What was happening? How did she leave the can in the store? how did it get here? Was the taxi driver following her? No, he left from quite a distance. This was no coincidence, she started sweating and was lost in thought. "Hello! have a nice flight Ma'am," said the security guy with a beaming smile. She looked at him and vaguely smiled back. What else was in store?

Walking down to the Baggage check-in, she felt she was being followed, she constantly looked around for Sarayu, she was nowhere in sight. It seemed surreal. The passport and the juice can be handed to her by strangers who she didn't know. After she checked in her suitcases, she took her boarding pass and proceeded to the immigration desk, a long line of international travellers was ahead of her. She craned her head to see if her friend was anywhere around. She couldn't spot one familiar face.

After the stamping of her passport and immigration, she went through the security check and walked across the lounge towards her gate - the flight was still almost 3 and a half hours away. She decided to walk into the shopping arena and look for some mementoes. She bought some magnets and key chains and moved to a book shop.

The long flight would need a nice book she thought and browsed the stacks. She found a romantic thriller and picked it up, at the payment counter she was handed a gift-wrapped box with a note ‘For You’. "What's this?" she exclaimed. The salesgirl said, “it's for you”. “Who gave it? Are you sure, it’s for me? I don’t know why I would want to take it”?

"You will know when you get into the second room on the left in the privilege lounge", the sales girl replied.

She was aghast. ‘Was this a trick? Is someone stalking me?’, her thoughts meandered.

Nikitha started walking fast towards the lounge, less scared and more inquisitive to find out the source of her gift and solve the puzzle trailing her.

The privilege flyers' room was shut, she opened the door and it was dark inside. She was about to leave the room when a tiny light flickered in the middle of the room. She garnered courage and entered in. Just as she approached the light, there was a loud roar and the room was washed in bright light.

Holding a cake was Sarayu, as the airline staff, around her, sang in chorus “Happy Birthday to you”! Nikitha had tears in her eyes and checked her watch, which flashed 00:00!

She hugged Sarayu and punched her on the cheek. As tears ran down her cheeks, she heaved a sigh of relief, for once it had nothing to with disappearing people, haunting noises, knocking doors or staring billboards!

Nikitha dropped to her knees, blew the candle on the cake and felt like a celebrity!

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Ps: Nikitha later learnt that Sarayu was hiding behind the bushes as she tripped and dropped her passport, her friend picked it up and followed her closely in another taxi.

Pic courtesy: Internet

An all new experience!

Facing the camera - discussing cricket and analysing pros and cons for a web tv channel has been quite an exhilarating experience!

Cricket has been a passion for over four decades and I have judiciously followed the game from the early 1980s - on ABC, BBC & AIR via radio commentary and then Live on TV, and yes, some great matches on the ground too. I have played the game at a much amateur level having started as a wicket-keeper batsman to turning into a spinner in the later years. I also had the opportunity to officiate as an umpire in over a hundred local T20 league matches - mostly organised by my erstwhile cricket club Frisco.

With a fair understanding of the nuances of the game and the players in international cricket, it was obvious I took to social media to post my own armchair critical versions through micro and macro blogging.

The big break

The 2015 Cricket World Cup got me an opportunity to ghost-write for a retired South African international cricketer. The daily columns were featured in a popular international website. It was one of the most defining moments for me as a writer and it surely opened up many other avenues. 40 days and 40 match reports got me critical acclaim for thinking like an accomplished world-class cricketer, a perspective totally new for my style of writing. While I wanted to continue writing ghost columns, I didn't get another chance of the same standard and had to wait four years and another World cup to do something different.

Facing the camera – a first

As part of a totally crazy cricket following closed user social media group called Pure Cricket, I have been analysing much cricket for the past few months with the ‘gang’. It was during IPL, we hit upon the thought of creating an innovative buzz with our knowledge. Initially, the plan was to launch a dedicated cricket website with daily pre and post-match analysis starting with the World cup 2019.

Then came the brilliant idea mooted by my friend Sairam Chavali, who initiated a discussion with the popular web tv portal HyBiz.tv, about a daily short 3-5-minute sponsored analysis on the forthcoming World Cup matches. The channel owner, old friend Rajgopal, jumped on the idea and had Sairam and me summoned to his studio for a brief. In no time we were shooting short capsules without much preparation or cuts, takes and re-takes.

The first set of videos started bringing in much feedback. While most were congratulatory messages, there were also quite a few tips on body language, posture, content, attire and even personal grooming. "You seem stiff and not relaxed". "Could you not look at the camera a little more"? "Why those blazers"? "Can you speak a little more naturally"? “Can you not colour your hair and shave off your moustache”? "You are too conscious of the camera". "Where is the innovation"? - Well there were countless messages of advice and all were accepted in right earnest – some were put into practice too.

Then there were messages from professionals who gave tips not just on content but also on technical aspects. Like an ardent cricket fan said, "Why don't you both talk about the advantage of left-arm seamers"? And a movie maker friend said "Change the seating position to an arc facing each other and crop the screen space to focus the speakers in the centre" - Well, I was overwhelmed. There was an air of acceptance in what we were doing and sincerely as amateur presenters facing the camera for the first time Sairam and Me have learnt a few good things and look forward to inculcating our learning for better output.

It’s always nice to be involved with something one is passionate about – in a small way I have been pursuing my unbridled passion for cricket through these initiatives.

Let’s see where this takes me!

Until the dawn of another new match day, it’s Stumps!

The Summer nights

Friday night: The air conditioner in her bedroom was set to 22° C, but the clock approaching midnight was giving Nikitha an eerie sensation. She wiped the drop of sweat off her brow and was waiting for a repeat of the last two nights.

Wednesday 11th:

Her bedroom on the first floor was in the corner of the huge house, and she was alone. Her parents slept on the ground floor. There was a big hall - a living room outside her bedroom that opened to a balcony on the rear. A huge mango tree outside covered most of the balcony. She spent most of the monsoon season under the tree with the living room door left open. Summer, however, was different. The summer holidays were scorching and the nights were no less tormenting, but the AC had its effect and she felt comfortable.
After a sumptuous dinner and chatting with her friends online for over an hour, Nikitha slipped into her bed to watch her favourite thriller series 'Sherlock' on Netflix. It was almost midnight and she felt she heard someone knocking on the rear door. She got out of bed, walked to the end of the living room and opened the back door to see the source of the knocking. She switched on the lights around the house and peeped out, there was no one.
The first floor had no way up from the ground except the internal stairs. The walls were high and it was impossible for someone to scale them and reach the rear door and knock. She went back to her bedroom and opened the front door to the small balcony facing the road and saw the gates were locked. The street was washed in lights from the pole across the house and not a soul was outside.
She looked below - her red car was gleaming in the street light, the stray dogs which usually barked at the slightest of intrusion from strangers were sleeping too.
She closed the door and went back to her laptop. The episode was thrilling and soon she forgot the knocking on the door. An hour later she shut the laptop, put her mobile phone on silent and dozed off.

Thursday 12th: 

Nikitha woke up early and opened the eastern balcony door to view the sunrise, the mango tree swaying in the breeze. She looked up at the high unreachable mangoes and noticed they were still a few weeks away from ripening. As the day progressed, she decided to stay home all day and finish a few of her college summer assignments and catch a nap in the afternoon.
As she showered late and got into comfortable cotton clothes for the day, her mother called out for lunch in the afternoon. Nikitha remembered the previous night's knock on the door but did not want to tell her mother about it. After lunch, she slept for a couple of hours and later called up her friend to meet up in the evening.
Nikitha returned home past 8 pm and decided to finish two episodes of Sherlock. After completing the first episode of season two, she took a break and had dinner with her parents. It was 10.30 pm as she returned to her bedroom. Over the next half hour, she was giggling over funny text messages with her friends on chat. And soon, The Hounds of Baskerville beckoned her, and she got involved in the thriller. Halfway through the episode, she was startled by the knock on the door. There were three continuous knocks and then it stopped. She paused the viewing and sat up straining her ears. It started again, the knocking on the door. This time it was louder, and distinctly human.
Already affected by the goings on in the web series, she felt a chill run down her spine. Nikitha garnered all her courage and walked to the end of the living room and stood near the door. There was silence as she slowly opened the latch of the door and peeped out into the dark. She switched on the balcony light and stepped out. There was no one and nothing that could have caused the knock on the door. Perplexed she stood near the door for a few minutes as the mild breeze dried the sweat on her face.
She smiled, wondering if it was the effect of the thriller she was watching that made her conjure the noises in her mind. She shut the door and walked back to her room. Just as she was about to sit on her bed, the knocking began again. And this time, they did not seem to be human. It was louder and relentless, almost like a pounding on the door. Terrified now, she closed her eyes and ears tight and prayed for it to go away. The noise subsided. She switched off her laptop and jumped into bed. It took her a few minutes to realise the knocking had stopped completely. Wearily, she slipped into a deep sleep.

Friday the 13th:

Nikitha woke up late and the first thoughts were to get to the door. The sun had risen high into the sky, and it was bright and hot outside. There was no breeze and the temperature was quite high for the morning. She looked up at the clear sky and knew that the day was surely going to be a scorcher. She had already made plans to go for a movie and lunch at the Coffee Shop with her friends.
At the breakfast table, Nikitha told her mom about the sounds of the previous night. Her mom was calm and concealing her anguish- she patted on her daughter's back and said "stop watching late night shows on the laptop and sleep early, you will be alright". She smiled, but wondered- was her mother thinking she was hallucinating? In their 4 decades at that house, her parents had never heard of any burglary or even a thief intruding, it was one of the safest localities in the city. Could there be some supernatural beings at work? Ghost?! Hmmmmm… She stopped thinking of that.
The cute animation detective movie cooled her senses, as did the company of her chirpy friends. After a lunch of pasta and mojitos, she drove back home late afternoon in her car. She headed straight to her laptop and completed the unfinished Hounds of Baskerville mystery.
It was 5 in the evening as dark clouds formed in the sky, dust storms gathered and the summer evening became unusually pleasant with a drizzle. Two hours later, it turned into a thunderstorm. The rain started pounding and the street was filled with gushing water. After dinner, as Nikitha strolled into her bedroom balcony, the lightning persisted and with a loud bang the power went off, and after was finally restored after what seemed to be the entire night but was just an hour.

The air conditioner in her bedroom was set to 22° C, but the clock approaching midnight was giving Nikitha an eerie sensation. She wiped the drop of sweat off her brow and was waiting for a repeat of the last two nights.

A loud bang on the back door startled her. She screamed and ran down the stairs to her mom, and that night she slept in her parents’ bedroom.

Saturday 14th: 

The sun was back in the sky, shining and bright and the devastation of the previous night was seen all around the house. Tens of fallen mangoes, mostly broken, were picked up in buckets.

Nikitha and her mother went to the first-floor rear balcony and opened the door. There was a huge branch felled by the stormy winds of the night sprawled on the balcony.

The branch that swayed in the winds and knocked on the door, was lying on the floor, silent!

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When communication wasn’t instant but effective!

In the age of instant communication – the lack of response, acknowledgement and failure to reach out to people is quite simply distressing!

In the mid-1980s, when I was just out of school, summer holidays meant whiling time with friends playing cricket all day. One of the good things about those days was how everyone knew where anyone was, almost at all times. We could contact the entire team to inform the next day's match venue and opponent with ease. Well, I am speaking of days when there was no telephone - not even the good old land line.

The network was simple- inform one of the mates who connects to three-four others and the communication is done. Then as we got into college - there were the various 'Adda'. Typically the Irani cafe hangouts. Good Luck Cafe Safilguda or Akbar at Paradise or Sun Cafe in Tarnaka or many such addas across the twin cities- you knew exactly where to find the gang or one or two of the representatives. While these were there, there was no beating the simple staright go visit friend's home - scream out names from outside the gate rather than knock on the door, what better way to communicate than in person! I remember when a friend once called me to his home and I found a locked door, I just left a message scribbled on piece of paper that had lasting effect - the apologetic dost rushed home on seeing the note that read "I came, I saw, I vent!". Messages were innovative, crisp and clear, they were not instant but they were effective.

Among other modes of communication was the fixed messenger - the owner/manager of the Adda - the one who sits in the Cafe counter all day - passes on the message.

Then as we got into jobs in the early 1990s - there was the office phone - and the friendly telephone operator who always took a message from mates. Soon there were residential landline phones and messages, match schedules, movie plans, meeting spots were conveyed to whoever manned the phones at homes.

During the mid-1990s was launched a small device with a screen that carried scrolling text - it was called a Pager. Just like the mobile phone which came later, it would display text messages to a maximum of 150 characters. A revolution of sorts for most of us sales guys who could be reached with messages on the move. Messages ranged from come home early, contact boss, meet client, cricket match time, date, venue to lunch dinner, party plans.

I still remember one of messages to a friend who borrowed my bike helmet and didn't return it for a week. It read "I'm worried about my head and it's time I had it covered, you could help" - That evening my helmet reached home with a note – ‘You scared me’!

While mobiles phones made their presence in our lives in late-1990, they were expensive and calls were mostly incoming and then there was the 'Missed call' - an effective tool too!

While the Millennium brought much changes in the communication technology, the advent of social media across platforms and the internet data going economical - things turned on their head.

We are in the age of instant communication - where you reach any corner of the earth in matter of seconds, broadcast happenings, share opinion, contact multiple people at the push of a button - all instantaneously!

But then… wait…!

I started this piece of writing to rant about the abject lack of acknowledgement of the Millennial to messages – In the age of the ‘twin blue ticks’ we have the procrastinators with the abject disregard for accepted norms of communication - two-way communication.

Digressing a bit, I have seen unread emails pile up in thousands. I actually saw a colleague with 33,000 unread mails in his Yahoo Inbox. He said most of them were unsolicited marketing mails. Simply because he subscribed to mail lists and left the inbox untouched for many days. Well, one can never catch up on that, and you got there with bad habits. The easiest solution is to unsubscribe from lots of lists, disable email alerts from social media, set up filters, decide what email you care about and only read that. The remaining just delete them all! For the record – I never ever leave an unread email in my Inbox. I have an OCD for Zero Inbox.

Coming back to my rant! The instant communication through platforms like SMS or Messenger or the craze of the nation – Whatsapp is not really as instant as we think they are, these days.

Why do people not respond to messages, not all times it’s about money (not just soliciting, but failing to return too) - sometimes simple requests for help go unheeded.  Have you heard of Whatsapp with 5000 unread messages from about 40 odd contacts lying for months? I am appalled to hear of people with thousands (yes, tens of thousands in some cases) unattended notifications on their mobile screens. Why can’t we be frugal in maintaining zero unread notifications? Most of these are from Apps that have been installed for the heck of it, on the move. These apps are fighting for your time.

It appears these Apps are taking advantage of neurological weak spots. A lot of people don't seem to be able to even figure out how to slow down or stop the notifications to a more manageable level. Procrastination is not the solution.  

Just go to that message from the well-wisher  – Someone who took time to wish you on your special day, ignore it or acknowledge it, but don’t leave it unread. You never would want to be in a similar situation, some day!

Going Mobile while mobile with disdain

Mobile phone mania on the roads goes unchecked and there is no end in sight!

Today morning while waiting at the Habsiguda x roads signal, I heard a gentleman speaking loudly beside me, I assumed he was talking to his pillion, and turned to the side to see he was on his phone, giving instructions to a plumber about some leaking pipeline in his house. 

Guess, it’s summer and every drop of water saved helps! But was it necessary to engage in a conversation in the middle of the road while riding a two-wheeler? Even as the signals turned green, he continued to chatter with scant respect for the traffic rules or the morning rush of vehicles all around.

Talking or texting on a mobile phone while driving a vehicle is dangerous, but that doesn't stop most Hyderabadis from doing so. Every day I see dozens of two-wheeler and four wheeler drivers talking on phone while driving. While the car drivers use innovative ways to talk on speaker phone or Bluetooth enabled car loud speakers, it’s the two-wheeler drivers who are blatant in their abuse of the law.

Most riders drive with their head tilted precariously balancing the phones between their ear and the shoulder even as they manoeuvre their bike oblivious to the zig zag path they take, putting both themselves and the others on the road to danger. There are those who slide the mobile phone in their helmets, enough to block the ear from hearing anything other than their callers’ voices and the incessant honking on the roads falls on deaf ears. Then there are those who use handsfree earphones or Bluetooth devices to speak on phone or hear to loud music on the go.

What does the law say?

Section 177 of the Motor Vehicle Act, 1988, prescribes a fine of between Rs 100 and Rs 300 for using mobile phone while driving. If such an action causes inconvenience or pose a hazard to road users, the fine is Rs. 1,000 and the compounding fee is Rs 500. In fact, the police have even started imposing a fine of Rs 2,000 for causing inconvenience or driving rashly while on phone, but the malady is unending.

The use of cell phones while driving is rampant and the accidents that are caused due to the distracted driving is also on the rise. But who cares? Looks like the world would end if the call is not taken or the drive is not completed in time without halting for two minutes to finish the conversation.

Though the penal provision for talking on the phone while driving is harsh, it has so far failed to work as a deterrent. This is perhaps due to the traffic police's poor prosecution record. Only a handful of motorists are challaned for the offence, while thousands go scot free every day.

A complaint on Twitter tagging the Hyderabad Traffic Police and the City police elicited no response from the law enforcement. Guess, they are feeling the summer heat and cooling themselves turning a blind eye to the happenings on the roads.

The obsession of mobile phones has increased in the past decade and the smart phones have only made the humans dumb. Senseless usage is perilous and strict measures taken up on a war footing by the police is the only way to end this ever growing mania!

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Pics Courtesy

Biker with white helmet - Clicked by me today (01.05.2019) at Habsiguda, Hyderabad.

Rest: Internet

When media cries 'Wolf'!

"My prejudices are fine, but your prejudice is just plain prejudice!" - Well, that's the new pot calling the kettle black!

Over the past few weeks I have been reading a lot about the negative effects of social media, the spread of fake news, cyber bullying and the heightening narcissism that the medium is inducing. Much of what is being said and written about the social media and how bad it is, is not totally out of place, just that it has been blown out of proportion.

There is a lot for the human race to take the blame for all the negativity that has been spread across the world, in all spheres and why single out Social Media alone?

I have been a strong advocate for professionalism and have felt that the 'Cult of the Amateur' in today's internet world is killing our culture (line borrowed from Andrew Keen's book of the same name). Read more here: Unbridled growth of social media – the vengeance of the amateur. It is no secret that the social media breeds amateurs masquerading as news providers peddling unverified happenings and in no time the same spreads like wildfire and what they call 'viral' is just that. An unabashed spreading of a deadly virus.

But who is to blame?

What are the professionals doing?

Why are they feeling threatened?

Why is this new advertisement screaming?

"If we don't have the facts,

we don't print the news."

Well, is it GUILT?

"India's Leading Newspapers" recently came together to proclaim (through full page advertisements) that 'if a story doesn't check out for social media it can always be deleted". While they (the print media) take time, verify all information before they call it news. Well, they call it "News that's backed by fact" - Is it still a fact when it is "cropped" to suit their narrative?

What about 'favourable news' peddled by political parties through the print media, when called out - what do they do? Just publish an apology of an apology in a nondescript gutter space corner of the newspaper and get away with it? And what about all those 'actual news' that the mainstream media (read the leading newspapers of India) conveniently ignore to publish, as it does not fit their agenda?

I reiterate News is sacrosanct! The people at the helm of affairs need to bring back the credibility to the profession. Objective journalism is dying in this country, and crying hoarse that "print is proof" is doing no good. For it is the media that created the Frankenstein called social media, and now crying victim is futile!

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Pic courtesy: Advt in India's leading newspapers

The Ear-Witness

Monday 11:00 am

The drumming sound started to get louder. Then she heard the horse hoof beats rising from a dull throb to a sharp, piercing sound, and soon it synchronized with the drum beats… Nikitha started to look around in fear, she wasn’t alone on the escalator.

Her heartbeat grew faster, she wasn’t prepared to hear about another tragedy… was this real? Was another strange coincidence about to unravel? She was perspiring, as another train pulled into the V Metro station and she watched in horror for something to unfold… few passengers got out and quite a few got in, and the train chugged off… she felt relieved… She then walked out of the station and there… it happened!

The screeching sound of a bus braking suddenly. She closed her eyes, and in a fraction of a second- it had happened. A girl was lying in a pool of blood, as a speeding car just drove past the girl. People rushed to the scene of the accident, trying to help the victim. But she was dead. Nikitha knew, or rather expected it!

This was the third incident since morning. Exactly 3 hours after the first one.

Earlier in the day: 8:00 am

Nikitha was a fitness freak and usually jogged two kms to the gym and back. An hour of workout at the gym was her daily routine. It was almost a week since she had skipped her routine of six months. She was recovering from a concussion she had after being hit on the head during a basketball game. She woke up early that Monday morning and looked forward to her day at college.

The workout had her tired and she sat by the roadside bench, to catch a breath, half a kilometre from her house. Suddenly, she started hearing loud noises. There was no one around on the street. But the sound of drumbeats coupled with horse hoof beats got louder and she closed her ears and tried to look in the direction of the sound. It seemed to be coming from the road parallel to the one she was in. She got up and ran to the next lane. Slowly, the sounds started receding and then there was commotion near the park. As she reached the source of the sounds, she saw a big group crowding around something. The noise had now stopped. She reached into the crowd and saw a girl in her teens, lying in a pool of blood. It seemed like murder. Not something new in the crime-infested downtown of the metropolis city.

But the sounds were unusual, she had never heard anything of the kind. Sounds that were totally unusual to be heard in a city, well was it really what she heard? As the police cars pulled in and the ambulance arrived, she went her way.

A half hour later, reaching home, Nikitha showered and had her breakfast and got ready to leave for college. The unusual sounds were still fresh in her memory. Trying to forget the episode, she got into the morning rush and reached the nearby W Metro station to board the train to her College.

Monday 9:00 am

The morning traffic on the road under the elevated metro station was quite heavy. The buses, cars, cabs, two and three-wheelers were all jostling for space. It was sheer cacophony. The high decibel sounds were broken by the familiar rhythmic drumbeats and hoof beats. Nikitha became conscious of the sound. She looked around and tried to find the source. There were all kinds of vehicles around, but none that matched the ones she heard. Just as she reached the foot of the escalator to board it taking her to the concourse, she heard vehicles screeching to a halt on the road. There were loud screams and Nikitha’s curiosity got the better of her as she rushed to the scene of commotion. A chill ran down her spine. Another young girl was found killed. It seemed to be a gunshot, one that no one heard. No one saw how it happened or who was behind it. Nikitha began to suspect that the sounds she heard were related to the killings.

Shocked with the developments since morning she waited for the police to arrive and see if she could get some connection. The place was cordoned off by the cops and she had little or no chance to interact with them. The police were questioning for possible witnesses. Nikitha didn’t know if she could help. She had not seen anything, and her only hunch was not going to help.

Assumptions were not what the investigators wanted, for there were many who speculated.

Left with no option Nikitha decided to take the next available train to her college. She was dumbstruck, numbed by the two killings. Was there any connection? Could she approach the police and tell them about the sounds? Why didn’t anyone else talk about the strange sounds? She had a lot of questions. Ones that she had no answers to, and neither did she think she could find any for them.

Already late to college, she picked up coffee at the station and sat sipping it. One train passed by, and then two. She finally got up and boarded the third one. Looking out of the window, as the train chugged along, the young girls lying in a pool of blood started flashing in front of her eyes. She tried hard to deflect her thoughts. 45 minutes later she reached her destination. Slowly, lost in thought, she got off the train and walked towards the escalator going down. It was almost 11 am.

Back, outside the V Metro Station

The loud sirens of the approaching ambulance and police cars drowned the already fading strange noises in her head. Nikitha decided to talk to the cops and see if there could be a connection. The Investigators checked out all possible eyewitnesses and questioned the people about what they saw. None seemed to have noticed anything unusual. Nikitha introduced herself to Sam, who looked like a man with authority. He was the chief of the police and Nikitha told him she wanted to speak to them.

He took her to the stationed police vehicle where she narrated her experiences of the day. The first killing near the park, the W Metro Station and now outside the V Metro station.

Sam called in a dozen other possible witnesses, passers-by at the scene of the murder. No one had heard any unusual sounds as described by Nikitha. While the body of the third murder victim was shifted for post-mortem, Sam took Nikitha to the Police headquarters for further questioning. More witnesses from the earlier incidents of the day were brought in and were all questioned about the sounds described by her. None had heard it. The Police did a check on the two earlier incidents and Nikitha’s presence at the places. The joggers at the park had seen her and the CCTV footage at the W metro station confirmed her presence.

She was then sent for a medical examination, and the doctors ratified that she was perfectly in her senses and was not hallucinating. Nikitha promised to cooperate in the investigation as she was eager to get to the bottom of the strange noises in her head.

She finally reached her college at 1:00 pm and after a disinterested lunch, went to the library to study up the phenomenon of her unusual hearing. Her research threw up many possibilities explained by science. She could have a hearing impairment of sorts, something she could read about but needed expert advice to understand better.

Monday 3:00 pm

Nikitha decided to speak to Sam about her research and called the senior cop on his mobile. Sam was empathetic to her and assured to join her at the super specialty hospital in half hour. Meanwhile, unknown to her, two cops were assigned to follow her at a distance.

Just as she stepped out of the cab in front of the beach facing hospital, the sounds in her head started to ring. The hoof beats were familiar now, so were the accompanying drum beats. They slowly grew louder… she looked around and saw a few two-wheelers and a bus on the road. There was not much traffic, and she started sweating, waiting for another incident. The sounds receded and then she closed her ears and eyes and sat on the pavement.

The two tailing cops came to her to check if she was alright.

Nikitha told them about the recurrence of the sounds and how it peaked and receded fast.

The area was cordoned off soon and all CCTV camera footage of the movement of vehicles and people was secured.

Over the next hour, the investigators were clueless about the happenings at the hospital gate junction. After consulting the audiologists at the hospital, she took her reports and joined Sam and his team in search of the elusive sound source. None of the vehicles seemed to leave any trail, well not until Nikitha pointed to a huge HD 48 - 1200 cc motorcycle, which she seemed to have seen earlier in the day near the W Metro.

Soon the footage of the morning traffic under the Metro was being scanned. The bike was unmissable – The rider wearing a black jacket and black helmet with dark glass visor. But that could just be a coincidence and the motorbike was known for its heavy-duty thump, heard to all and sundry half a km away too. Big deal if it had been spotted at two scenes of crime?

The investigators were leaving no stone unturned, they soon got the details of the bike and tracked it down to the northern highway. The rider was a calm character and without much ado followed the instructions of the cops and submitted himself and the bike for scrutiny.

Later at the police headquarters: Ron, the biker and his bike were put to test. Nikitha could hardly make out any special noises as the thumping of the bike reverberated in the compound. The biker was let go after severe interrogation on the murders lead to no evidence of his involvement whatsoever.

Monday 8:00 pm

It was a long and tiring day, both physically and mentally. An apologetic Nikitha wanted to go home and rest, Sam offered to drop her home in the police vehicle. The well-mannered Ron too offered to drop her home, and the cops felt it was safe to let him take her home.

Ron dropped her off at the gate and she thanked and waved him goodbye. The biker waited for her to get into her house and close the door behind her. Then he engaged the gear of the bike, revved it a bit, and slowly held the clutch to kill the thumping noise from the silencer. 

The bike stayed in motion even though it had gone totally silent... but for the...

Meanwhile, Nikitha pulled out the medical reports from her bag and it perplexed her. It read: Infrasonic sounds exemplified to high decibels due to injury in the ear.

The next moment she slumped to the floor, cupping her ears tight – the horse beats and the drum beats were back and just growing louder and louder.

A single gunshot and...  ...Silence!

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Epilogue: Sam and his team waited as the ambulance arrived to take the body of Ron to the mortuary!

Pic Courtesy: Internet

Attention Seeking – The Social Media conundrum

Humans basically crave for attention, and they are intelligent to express themselves better which differentiates them from other animals. But in the journey of one-upmanship and trying to be seen as bigger and better than others, we as a race have lost track of the consequences.

Over the past few months the social media has been rife with plethora of intrusive posts. But nothing hit an all-time low as last week’s incidents. The first one that hit me hard was the sharing of the pictures and videos of the Pollachi sexual assault victims. The abject lack of sensitivity among the citizens in their enthusiasm to highlight the issue have caused much harm to privacy of the victims, and is abominable.

Then the New Zealand terrorist attacks. It’s some kind of deranged mind that wanted to live stream the assault through social media, but what is even more distressing is the way the common citizens across the world shared the videos of the assault to all and sundry. It is appalling to note the insensitivity in the posting of grotesque images. Privacy is now a gone thing. People are moving into the next level of attention seeking through their lack of concern for the victims’ privacy.

Social media is fanning the attention seekers, who in the garb of sharing their opinion or their skewed Freedom of Expression have stooped to the level of belittling humane norms.

Political ideologies have created a chasm in the thinking and thus in the social media narrative of the commoners. One case in point is the insensitive post by a serial hater of the current political disposition in India. The said person had the audacity to put up a post on the demise of former Union minister with a “Good day for SwacchBharat”. The death of a human is expressed as a cleansing? Really? Are we as humans so deranged to feel happy in celebrating a death? This is just one of the millions of hate posts that have become a norm in the virtual world.

Humans need attention to a certain extent because we are social beings, but some people seem to be doing everything in order to get more attention? Is morality dying a slow death?

Agreed, attention is other people thinking about you, and if there were ever humans who didn’t need it, they are now extinct. But seeking attention at what cost? Is gaining attention to oneself to be done only by belittling the other humans that matters today? While attention is one of the most valuable resources in existence for social animals, is the current trend fanned by the Social Media obsession causing more harm than good to the individuals, both seekers of attention and the targeted individuals?

In an earlier post on the Unbridled growth of social media – the vengeance of the amateur (https://myvoice.opindia.com/2016/11/unbridled-growth-of-social-media-the-vengeance-of-the-amateur/)  I had written about the malady nurtured by the mainstream media losing track of their ethics and getting opinionated. There seems to be no end in sight to the hate that is being spewed.

Narcissism seems to be the sole cause for the obsession to claim the “15 minutes of fame” and more!

Where does one start the cleansing?

Let’s look inside first, for charity begins at home!

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Motorcycle diary - down memory lane!

Sunday, February 03, 2002

Just a few weeks old, my Royal Enfield was still as brand as new. I was working then working in the newspaper advertisement department.

That Sunday morning, I got a call from Arunangsu Roy Chowdhary, our Business newspaper photographer who wanted a picture of a corporate employee for a feature. They wanted a representative picture of an executive attending an interview. I was to be modelling for the HR feature, and I was excited. Dressed in formals, Tie and all, I drove done on my 'Bullet'. 

After quite a few pictures clicked in various postures, I asked the photographer to click one with me on my new bike. The picture, the first of the many clicked over the years continues to be one of my favourites.

(Year 1 - 2002)

The next week’s LIFE column in BL featured my picture in the bright yellow shirt, I wish they had published my pic with the bike rather. 

Link to the 2002 article: https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/life/2002/02/11/stories/2002021100130100.htm

Later that afternoon I went on a long drive on the bike to Sangareddy, the first of the many long drives across Telangana region.

(At 10 years)

In its 18th year now, it still stays Royal as a King!

(17 years and counting - 2018) 

There is only one thing bigger than the bullet, The pride of owning one!