IPL 3 Schedule calendar/Wallpaper

Dear reader,

Being someone who follows the IPL pretty closely, I realized that there wasn't a comprehensive IPL 3 2010 Calendar/Wallpaper anywhere on the net. Hence, put something together for those who might be interested. The walls are in 3 different resolutions - 800x600, 1024x768 and 1280x800. If you need a custom format do leave a comment below and I can put it together.

PREVIEW IMAGE

Enjoy!

Click on links below to download wallpapers

800x600

1024x768

1280x800

A word to the Indian Cricket 'fan'

Alright. So the Indian bid to retain their ‘World Championship’ of the T20 Cricket cup is over. I, for one, actually am not too bothered by it since I had somehow seen it coming. Maybe it was the ridiculously inhumane and robotic schedule that money mongers like Modi Inc. made for our youngsters to slave their bottoms off at the IPL. Or maybe that we, the cricket crazy janta, have somehow managed to replace our cricketers of flesh and bones to be metamorphosed into mere sources for our perverse and rabid entertainment. Something to scream and cuss at with our own beer bellies hanging loose over crowded plates of buttered tandoori chicken while carelessly passing judgments on everyone. Either way my premonition has come true. The Indian cricket team, thanks to either overworked schedules or over-hyped media frenzy, has rightfully gotten out of this rat race.

The one thing which does bother me, though, is this. Now, I have had my share of globe trotting and sure, I have taken in my share of sports around the world. But nowhere have I seen the kind of extremist emotion towards a sport like we do in India. If the team wins, they have the best combination of batsmen and bowlers going to bat and bowl at the right times and heck, we will even applaud the fellow who takes an easy catch as the 12th man. Huzzah! All is well with our lives as we go around patting each other on the back and claiming to be number one. But if, O for the love of all that is Holy and Divine, if…that same team with the same batting and bowling order happens to lose a game – well well well. We just about cuss their entire family tree without a single shred of remorse in those very eyes that cried tears of joy on their victory.

Now with the boon that the Internet has transformed into, we have found a way to let it fly. Back in the days when there was no source for us to vent out our anger, we used to choose our friends, colleagues and other people in our radius to blow off the steam. But no…India is too clever now. Now we go out of our way to hide behind pseudo-names and throw large bricks of filthy lingo towards the same set of humans who we had given the demi-God status not less than a week ago with garlands of flower around their posters. The only difference is the same garland has been strewn with slippers and boot polish.

What does this say about us? Does it mean that we are so hopelessly inconsistent with our definition of ‘team support’ that the words we choose to express ourselves with keeps shifting from ‘Hail thy Holy name blessed one!’ to ‘To hell with thy mother and every other seed born from her unholy nether region!’? Does it not bother us that the levels to which we will ‘express’ our anger goes beyond human decency? If so, then how can we call this ‘team support’? Shouldn’t a real fan be someone who appreciates the game, applauds the spirit of it, accepts the team’s short comings and wishes them the best for the next attempt? Shouldn’t a genuine follower be someone who understands the kind of pressure those 11 odd boys would be under as millions of eyes stare fixedly at their every move – judging them, labeling them, criticizing them, cussing them and worse, disrespecting their every effort? Shouldn’t a real enthusiast of the team and game find the character to shrug off the defeat and say ‘Ah well. There is always tomorrow’ and move on while trying to see what went wrong and how it can be addressed? How can we possibly sit at our computer screens and decide who should have gone at 1 down or 4 down when we haven’t played even a single International game ourselves? Is just spending some time of our otherwise mundane life to watch the game enough to give us the right to spit shamelessly at these boys who are out there representing – well, US! Is that what democracy really means? To be given the freedom to treat our sportsmen like Gods one day and garbage the next? I don’t know what the answer is, but it just seems wrong. It seems radically askew a theory that just doesn’t fit into the scheme of things that India is so jingoistic about all the time.

I was reading somewhere on a blog that the reason why cricket has become such a big deal in India is because of its escapist relief giving mechanism that allows a hungry, frustrated, tired, vain, disgusted and absolutely hopeless individual to find some momentary respite in his/her life. Sometimes I feel that is still the gloomy truth. That there still exists that vein in our country that looks for cricket (and trust me, no other sport has this level of allure in India) as a medicine to heal its many many wounds by subjecting those 11 men to the acid test out of which they either come out unscathed or as charred carcasses.

There was a time when, as a youngster, I always wondered how cool it would be to be a part of the Indian cricket team. Ah! The glory! But after having read the many colorful abuses of ‘fans’ on several message boards and blogs with their own shade of cut throat criticism, I find myself throwing myself at God thanking Him that He didn’t give me the chance to be anywhere near that hell hole. A spot of unabridged monstrosity that is such a rollercoaster ride that I genuinely salute those brave boys who go out there day in day out and sweat off their skin to keep us happy. To keep us proud and smiling. To be one of those few Indians who actually managed to do something more than just hurl abuses at one another while wiping off chicken grease from their wrinkled shirts. In that minute essence of their presence and in that small spot light of courage – I salute their spirit. It is there, that winning and losing loses definition. It is there, that a team supporter goes beyond just shouting at sixes and spitting at run outs and becomes a constant source of energy from where the boys can find rejuvenation the next time they enter the battlefield. It is then, only then, can Indian teams of every sport find a reason to perform better each time.

Until then, let the verse party continue.

Misplaced Arrogance : The SRK-KKR saga

A giggle happy crowd mills around a deep ditch. People from all races, creeds, origins and intellectual levels nudge each other, in an almost perverse sense of guilty pleasure, and coax each other to fling another one. Another well aimed stone that will sail across the grim air and land on the bleeding head of the injured one. The one who does not look up anymore to blow kisses from behind dimpled cheeks or wave generously from behind a curtain of expensive cigarette smoke. No. His still and downcast body only shivers occasionally in the heat of the impact each misshaped stone makes against it. But for a brief capsule in time. And then it is over. The perversity has ended, the injured still lies where he is and the crowd disperses guffawing at one another only to return at another ditch, a day later, and fling a few more.

The reason I chose to portray the situation the much esteemed “King Khan” finds himself in today was because I cannot help but be part of that crowd. Sure, I may choose not to strike his head with a mass of verbose intellect but then there I am. Still standing with the rest and looking down upon a man who, for some reason, actually had my respect for his cocky self-confidence for quite a while. Be it from the eager-to-please-the-masses days of “Deewana” or the eager-to-scratch-his-creative-conscience ensemble of “Swades”. Yes, I was there for most of them. Whenever he would make a witty remark in a press conference or giggle, albeit shallowly, at a movie’s premiere, I always felt he had his head on his shoulders. After all being “someone” in the B-City isn’t easy without a Godfather or two, now is it? That said I have always admired people who have cut through the BS and made it big on their own. And yes, that aspect of it might make me slightly inclined to label him “King” since we have a lot of genuine kingmakers in India and not as many genuine kings anymore. So here was, a king in both the figurative and literal sense. Fair enough.

And then came the Indian Premiere League’s second offering. I had not followed the first one since I wasn’t really sure I wanted to see traditionally famous rivals pat each other’s backs on getting another fellow countryman out. Say, for instance, Shoaib Akhtar getting Sachin out and getting appreciative hugs from Ganguly. Sorry, despite the basic nuances of team spirit and camaraderie on the field this essence of sweetness between two teams whose matches shut down an entire nation just didn’t go down my old school honed system. And so I didn’t want to be witness of such, for the lack of another expression, absurd friendliness. But that somehow changed this year. Maybe it was because our famous rivals were not part of it, I don’t know for sure. But I decided to follow IPL 2. Sure, I didn’t have any “favorites” but given that my personal connections now span across three cities – Bangalore (where I am from), Mumbai (where my fiancé is from) and Chennai (where my future in-laws’ are from) – it became quite pertinent that I keep a tab on these three teams.

Now let us stitch this into context. Given the eye blinding glitz and jaw dropping oomph that IPL provides, it was only a matter of time before cricket started sliding into the backseat. Sure, we do see some insanely wonderful shots all over the park, but more often that not it lacks technique. Wham! And the ball sails into the stands. Wham! And the ball goes between the stumps. Hence the meaningless factor of aforementioned “Wham!” Nevertheless, I still watch it. But what has happened now is I also watch matches that have the Kolkatta Knight Riders (or is it just Knight Riders now?). Reason? Well, just because I think with every defeat they are pounded with (and boy are they being pounded good!) something convinces me that justice is still part of today’s world. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have cared less for KKR hadn’t SRK given his infamous “go get your own team if you want” snip at Sunil Gavaskar. Sure, Sunny is no saint. I have seen him walk out of matches because he didn’t think he was out even if the umpire did. But notwithstanding that outrageous past he has, the last person to tell him what to do when it comes to cricket would be SRK.

I never understood this – how can someone who has never played even one international cricket (and this applies to everyone standing above the ditch awaiting their turn to fling one in) have any idea what it is like to win/lose an international game? How does that even work? Even when I read Herculean blogs about people recommending strategies and writing convincingly about what the captain ought to have done…I can’t help but nod my head in disbelief. How can any of us know what managing an international team (with players stuffed with egos larger than their mansions) can be like? Hence, even if it means one has come up in the B-city on his own and has more money than all of middle class India, he still needs to zip it. It is like a man opining about a woman’s menstruation cycle or childbirth. Sorry dude…just doesn’t count.

So here I am. No stone in hand yet glad that SRK’s much needed reality check is finally happening. I know it is probably inhumane to side someone’s downfall, but sometimes even “Kings” need to get down to our humble levels and feel the same heat as we do day in day out. Only then, maybe then, they can actually remind themselves about how honest and straightforward they used to be some years ago. For that, I can be part of any crowd over any ditch any day.



..ShaKri..

What is worse than India's exit from World Cup?

Alright so it is now official that the ‘Men in Blue’ were in fact ‘Men without a clue’. Fine. Time to deal with it and move on!

But what is worse than India prematurely exiting the World Cup? The aftermath. Now by this I don’t mean the fate of Indian cricket or the future of the players and the coach. I could not care less about it for reasons best known to me. But what has started annoying me is the silly representations that are being made of these guys.

I received this email message sent by a friend of what he called ‘Future of the Indian cricket team’. We had a suave looking Saurav Ganguly cutting someone’s hair. We had Sachin Tendulkar selling paani-puri at a roadside mobile center and of course Rahul ‘The Wall’ Dravid literally painting a wall with signs.

First of all what is so funny about this? Comparing them to the common man who is actually doing an excellent job and going about his life with pride? Shading them in a color of honest hard work and proud labor? Please. Is this not a tad ironic since their real life experience of the players is anything but? Or was the creator of these ‘ideas’ so smart that he/she actually wanted to portray this irony? I doubt that very much based on the final product.

I know everyone who had hoped that illusive cup of the world would return home after more than 20 years is hurting. But sharing that pain using the image of a hard working common man will not achieve much either. If anything it will bring us more shame for having disrespected our own kind.

The honest kind.

..ShaKri..