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..