TPL Diary (IV)

Teams Meeting, 23 January


Jigme and I go for the team meeting since our captain D is not much of a speaker. As we joke, he is the captain only in terms of collecting money and going for the toss. The meeting throws up a curious mixture of people and I gather only cricket could dare summon such a motley crowd with scant regard to an age group criterion. Jigme’s premonition that we would witness some comedy comes true as an akhula, old enough to be our father, stands up and makes up with his garrulousness for what he may lack on the field in the coming days. We learn that he has not picked up a ball in two years (so he’s a bowler), only the love of cricket and participating in the first ever Tibetan Premier League has induced him to come out of (self imposed) retirement. He goes on and his talk is interspersed with digressions and devious bends and marked by that overall emptiness of substance which is unique to our elders, especially MPs and Kungolas. But I am more occupied with observing people around me. The members from the Dharamsala team (with whom we have our first match) are two 30 somethings who I suspect must be school teachers from Tcvs. One of them comes up with suggestion that we should make effort to organise cricket clubs in our respective places since we are all “cricket la nyogyoe” (mad about cricket). With that comment alone he earns my respect for the next saat janam. Apparently they have a club in Dhasa called the Gangseng Club, well how much of a gangseng they are on the field tomorrow we'll know but as far as I know, our spot in semis is as good as made. In fact, when we were first told that our match was actually with Dhasa and not with Tsopema, Jigme’s first words were, ‘ oh Dhasa yina da drey drey zho choki rey’ (if it's Dhasa we can thrash them good). Never the one to jump the gun, Jigme aptly summed up the prematch feeling of our team with those words.

Then there are the ubiquitous monks. Two of them are young and look like good cricketers but there's also a senior monk who’s rather silent. There are few more uncle types and I am starting to feel glad about attending this meeting. It feels wonderfully good to hear akhulas discuss the rules of t20 cricket for a change.
They bring out the Cup which is not that bad looking as most sports trophies tend to be. It is passed around and Karma, the Bir captain remarks,'' No, not me. I will lift it only after the finals."


Day 1, vs Dharamsala, 24 January

We do march-past and then stand in the sun. The opening ceremony programs take quite a while to take off and I am starting to feel like a schoolboy on Sports day. They have brought Tsering Gyurmey and the usual suspects to add some festive air to the event but we are hardly bothered.
Our match is in the afternoon. I watch some part of the opening match and think it better to get some rest before the match. Jigme and I go and sleep on the lawns.

We win the toss and choose to bat first. Rinchen and I are opening and I notice my legs are shaking slightly. The ball is swinging as well. It’s misery as I mistime a drive and am out to a good catch in the 4th over. but Jigme and Rinchen put on a good partnership and thanks to an abundance of extras we manage a respectable 107.

Gyurmey gives us the perfect start with a first ball wicket in the opening over. This is some feeling. And in the corner of my mind I feel sorry for the opener who’s the same decent guy who was there in the meeting. Dhasa plunge further into disarray as Gyurmey strikes again in the same over and I too do the same in my opening over. They are 4 down in the 6th over.

Then we nearly lose it with some poor back up bowling but Jigme is the star as he breaks the 6th wkt partnership and takes 2 wkts in 2 balls. We win by 7 runs.

We are sharing the ground floor of this community center with two other teams. I see two of the akhulas doing the prayers before sleeping – I told you, they could be our daddies. But then one of them gets a call and the ring tone goes ‘ oh baby baby, wooh, thought you’d always be mine!’ Well, our daddies? Not quite.

I suggest to Jigme that we should also do prayers and even prostations in unison just to horse around with those akhulas. We get a kick out of suggesting how they’d go ‘ now look at those Delhi students, they are just as good off the field as they were on it.’

Day 2, vs Tsopema, 25 January

The Bir match is at 8 am but Jigme and I have planned to go to watch Dobhi Ghat. The Bir team cheered good for us yesterday, I hope some of our guys do return the favour.
It turns out that the two morning matches are rather one sided and over in jiffy and we think we might be late. But when we get to the stadium, they have another performance going on. This time I quite enjoy hearing Chodak sing ‘Rinzin Wangmo’. This ex-army guy sings a Nepali song which rather baffles me, I mean if he didn’t know a good Tibetan song, he couldn’t have gone wrong with a nice Hindi song. Anyways we lose the toss and are bowling.

Since i bowled rather well in the first match, I am opening with Gyurmey. He bowls a decent first over. I bowl 2 wides. Then in my second over I bowl the opener with one that keeps low. Next comes this big monk who I recognize is the same silent one who was there at the meeting. By the noise they are making in their camp I gather he’s some kind of a hitter. He sure looks like one. I bowl a straight one that pitches perfectly and wraps on the pads. We all go up in this massive appeal - for us who are so used to playing without LBW rules, there is an added joy in seeing the umpire’s index finger go up as you appeal. It’s as if as your vocal chords start in excitement with a shout and then strain and go hoarse in appeal, the deliverance comes in slow steps from the other end and meets you halfway to put you in bliss. It's 2 in 2 for me and a hat-trick really seems on. I hardly remember seeing the batsman walk up and take his guard. In a daze I run up and bowl another straight one, just short of a decent yorker and it sneaks in like a thief, just kissing the pads and crashing on to the stumps! Oh boy, and before the tournament I was thinking perhaps I should just concentrate on my batting and give up bowling...

But our bowling is poor after that, and fielding poorer. There are over-throws, misfields and we are looking like a bunch of fools. Near the end, we do accomplish a breakthrough but still they manage to set us a challenging target of 109.
We had heard all along from others how they have good bowlers. When I go in to bat after the loss of two early wickets, I am determined to try my luck and bat freely. But I can hardly find any boundaries though I like the sound of my shots. I am scoring mainly in singles and doubles. With Rinchen and then with Kunleg, I have good partnerships but soon panic sets in. Gyurmey comes in and takes his guard on the off stump! I could have burst out laughing right there if it wasn’t for the sorry situation we were finding ourselves in. Well, it only gets worse after that and I find myself in the unenviable situation of being not out and running out of overs. We lose by some 12 runs.

After the match, back in our room we are sort of trying to sleep when this monk from Tsopema team comes in. He’s the same one who put the brakes on us with his quick leg breaks and turned the match. He is polite and compliments us for how we gave them a hard time. I try my best to ignore him but Jigme is more than happy to indulge in useless post-match analysis. All I can think of now is going back to Delhi. I think of Martin Sheen, '' When I was here, I wanted to be there; when I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle. ''

TPL Diary (III)

On the bus to Chandigarh, 22 January 2011

There is something about the jat dialect that is pleasing to my ears, maybe its boisterousness, its unmistakeable hubris. So I am listening attentively to the exchanges between the driver and the conductor and a pappoo who’s obviously taking a free ride and trying his best to blend in. I like the driver. He’s a big, handsome man with a bigger humour that at first looks out of place to me. But soon I realise it cannot be any other way. I like how he calls the conductor ‘parichalak’. They keep getting into loud arguments since the conductor apparently has wound-up nerves. Each time it ends with the driver breaking out into large guffaws and asking his mate ‘not to take tension’. The pappoo is astute enough not to take sides. He joins in the driver’s laughters and also helps in the conductor’s shouts at the slow moving passengers.

I am also listening to a few selected songs that make for good listening on the road. After many trials I have settled on a few favourites. On top is ‘Airbag’ which is ideal when you are on the expressway between Delhi and Chandigarh. The menacing traffic, imposing flyovers and the overall miserableness of landscape that passes by make perfect backdrop for the track. Few other Radiohead tracks that work well are ‘Idioteque’, ‘ National Anthem’ and ‘Let Down’. Joy Division’s ‘Isolation’, ‘Digital’ or even ‘Love will tear us apart’ are along the same lines. On a more cheerful note, you have Stereophonics’ ‘Dakota’ which sort of works in any situation. (Personally, whenever I start from Delhi (or Baijnath) on bus, cheerfulness is not the most dominant of feelings. I find it easier to be morose and just stare out of the window. Hence, the above choice of songs)
Being on the road also gives you a chance to try out tracks that you may not have the patience for otherwise. That’s why I always include some jazz and classical music in my playlist. That’s how I came to like Miles Davis’ 30-minute plus fusion epic ‘Prelude’ (to what? I have asked often).

We pass Ambala Cantt. and I see this great line of army tanks along the railway track. Then there is another pool of them near a lake where some children are playing ‘gilli danda’. Then another and I almost jump out of my window! I can’t imagine what must be keeping those kids from climbing onto those tanks!

Near Chandigarh, a couple of youngsters get in and immediately I sense a showdown between them and the conductor. The poor man’s nearly at the end of his tether and the last thing he wants now is nonsense from a bunch of wiseass cool dudes. As always it’s hard to remember what sparked it, but yeah we do have a row. My sympathies naturally lie with the conductor who from nowhere booms, ‘Talk in Hindi, I am also para likha! Don’t argument with me in front of sawaari’.

With that memorable quote in my head, I get down at Sector 17 ISBT.

TPL Diary (II)

Sunday 16 Jan 2011

We are late again today and this time we are not so lucky. The ground is already taken, occupied by not two but at least six teams engaged in at least three different games. It’s hard to imagine how this is humanly possible but the games are going on, sure as the sun is shining, like cogs in a big awkward machine seemingly on the verge of collapse. The bowler of game A is running right across the pitch being played on by game B. After each ball, he goes back and waits for the other bowler to bowl and then starts. The fielders are so all over the place that the poor batsmen must think he has no chance of finding a gap anywhere! The way I see it, this is nothing but another manifestation of a uniquely (north) Indian way of going about things. They call it ‘jugaad’, as in ‘Kuch nahin ho raha hai yaar, kuch jugaad karo’ (Nothing’s happening, do some jugaad). In any other culture I suppose we could replace the word jugaad by jadoo (magic/miracle). But jugaad is more down to earth, in fact there is definitely something crooked and street smart about it. It is the way of getting your job done by compromise, adjustment and improvisation or help from here and there when all your traditional avenues are closed. I guess in India where the machinery of governance is very often ill functioning, it’s only natural that such a philosophy of work should come up. In Delhi, you see it everywhere, in classes and offices, in bus or on the road. Once I was lucky enough to witness this huge traffic jam at a chowk. As the traffic constable was naturally absent, those stuck had taken upon themselves to manage the traffic and prevent further chaos. Make no mistake, this was not due to some heightened sense of civic duty from the public, just that each one wanted to get out of that mess as quickly as possible. So from tractor drivers to car owners, each one got down and virtually donned the traffic constable’s cap, did his share of hand waving and whistling and then drove off.

‘Well gap!’ shouted someone in praise of a shot played through the gap and I nearly fell down laughing. This was better than ‘ Well shot!’.

Finally, near 11 am we get our turn but before noon most of us are tired. Maybe it was because of the too much waiting in the sun that did it but we are through. We are sort of lingering on the field, each one waiting for somebody else to call off the practice. I don’t want to do it but then I see Jigme suddenly sneak away without a word. He’s going off for a date with his gal, so I am told. I can't believe that guy! How did that song go? –

And so and now I'm sorry I missed you
I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain
It went the dull and wicked ordinary way
It went the dull and wicked ordinary way..

TPL Diary (I)

11 January 2011- So it’s really on now and we’re in it for good. When I first saw the posters in MT and Kunchok came up with the suggestion of participating nearly a month ago I had mildly laughed at it. A cricket tournament calling itself the Tibetan Premier League? Ha! Looking back I see it was nothing but my own aversion to quick decision-making and new ventures. It doesn’t look like such a crazy idea now. Within 5 minutes of discussion we had forged a skeleton team and when he called me the next day about the entry fee I knew it was time to get serious.

During my two weeks break at home, I played in a match against Bir. We won a nailbiter but my own contribution was meager. I wasn’t surprised since I hadn’t played a proper match in almost 2 years. Facing the opening bowler, I was only too aware of the uncertainty and the discomfort that seemed to permeate my body. It was nothing but fear. I was thinking about the ways the leather ball would hit my body when I should have been thinking about the ways it would hit my bat.
Well, I have almost a week and a half to clear up my head now.

15 January 2011, Rohini District Park-They don’t have a team at the Youth Hostel so we are playing among ourselves. It takes a while for the whole team to show up but time is not a bother- it’s Saturday and we have the whole ground to ourselves. We pair up into five teams with each team getting a maximum of 4 overs to bat and with everyone else fielding. At the end of two rounds I reckon we were out on the field for almost 20-25 overs which is not bad for a practice. I bowl 5 overs and nearly switch to bowling harmless off spinners near the end out of exhaustion. But I am happier with my batting. Mentally I was much more relaxed maybe because it was practice. I need to make up my mind about my selection of shots though. I made a mess of a few juicy full tosses, stuck in confusion about whether to drive them or heave them and ended up playing an ugly nothing shot. So I decide I’d be better off driving them which is more suited to my approach and cut out completely the good old heave from the equation.

I wonder why I am so weak on the leg side since most people tend to be stronger on their leg side. I can think of a possible combination of reasons – my left handedness and a peculiar rule during my school. We used to play on this basket court along the one side of which ran our school boundary. Since it was tough job fetching the ball whenever it was hit over the boundary, we made such shots illegal. So you were out if you hit the ball over the boudary. To most (right handers), the boundary was on their off side which meant they couldn’t play any cuts or attempt at any expansive off drives. For me (and Rinchen who’s also playing), we had to play mostly on our off side or straight. Leg side shots were a big no-no and i guess i continue to carry this mental block about the leg side. So anything outside the off stump, my eyes they kind of light up and anything on the leg side, i get myself tied in a knot.