If there was ever a need for match fixing, it is now.

Bangladesh should beat Bermuda, by hook or by crook.  That's the only hope for salvation for Indian Cricket.

Imagine what will happen if the India somehow manage to go thru….

We will reach the Super Eights. The World Cup Organisers, ICC, Sony, BCCI, the companies who have products endorsed by our "Men in Blue" will all be very happy.

We will beat Ireland. Sachin will score his 42nd century and cross 15000 runs on One Day Internationals.

We will also pick up one more point against England due to rain.

Our "Stars" will bag more lucrative endorsement deals and it will be business as usual for cricket in India.

Our "Vision 2007" will become "Vision 2011" and we will definitely improve.

We will try out new path breaking things like having Rahul Dravid open the bowling, Harbhajan Singh as a wicket-keeper and Mahendra Dhoni as a spinner. We will invest heavily in youth by trying out 25 new players over the course of the next 25 matches.

Our coach will again hold up his injured middle finger in some city after the team would have been beaten.

Sachin will continue playing, and will cross 16000 runs and 45 centuries. You see, "form is temporary, class is permanent".

We will come to World Cup 2011 as hot favourites. We will score 500 runs and beat Italy.

Then over to Vision 2015, at the end of it we will beat Argentina in the World Cup.

Sachin will score his 50th century.

And we will be 1.5 Blue Billions in this land by then.

All shouting "Ooooh Aaaaah India"….

30^th Sept: 1745 hours

I am still on the ground. Not even inside the aircraft.

I am so impatient that I cannot wait to start this post. I want to get into the aircraft and take off.

Desperately want to get out of Chennai and head towards Kolkata, towards home.

I make no secret of my dislike for Chennai. I know it is strange in light if the fact that my mother is Tamil. However I can never relate to this city. Alas! This is where I am based and will be so for the immediate future. So I have learnt the survival strategies.

For me the way to survive life in a place abhorred is to look forward to times when I can get out of it!

Today I am going out of Chennai! Back to my beloved Calcutta for the Durga Puja.

I am not alone. Over here in the waiting area of the domestic terminal of Chennai airport I can see several people who will be my co-passengers. Some of them are alone. Like me they are the professionals seeking out a career away from home. Some are with their families, no doubt going back to visit parents and relatives.

You will all laugh at me. I am going home for only 2 days! Come Tuesday and I will be back to Chennai. Then I shall look forward to my next trip - a grand 2 week vacation!

I wanted to write about the people waiting in this part of the terminal building. However that will have to wait. I need a cup of strong coffee and a cookie.

1819 Hours:

The androgynous voice on the public address system informs us that Spice Jet flight SG 520 will be delayed by 20 minutes. Awful.

18:25 Hours:

At last the boarding announcement is made! I am already at the gate, the first passenger to cross the boarding gate and into the waiting bus. Five minutes later I am on board.

And a familiar face. it’s the same flight attendant, a girl from Sikkim. Have had he on 3 previous flights. Very sweet and very efficient. I exchange a smile of recognition before proceeding to take my window seat.

18:44 Hours:

There were not many people boarding the flight. It was anyway full of nerdy looking software engineers and pretty damsels working in call centres. All returning home to Calcutta.

As is always the case with me I did not have any pretty young thing sitting next to me. But I had the window seat and that’s all that mattered.

18:46 Hours:

The perfunctory safety drill over, the plane began taxiing towards the runway, past the maintenance hangar, the fire station and the cargo terminal, where the lights were off and the planes sinister in the shadows. A U turn and we were in the runway.

A sudden acceleration and we were on course for takeoff. As we crossed the cargo terminal I realized that we had crossed V1 Speed. Now whatever happens the plane has to take off, no turning back.

Nothing happened and we took off smoothly. The city lights fast receeding as we rose higher and higher until they looked as if a constellation had come to rest on planet earth. Then the plane banked to the right and I knew we were flying over the Bay of Bengal.

Then something inexplicable happened. I fell asleep.

20:43 hours:

After drifting into and out of sleep for almost two hours I heard the welcome announcement that we were starting our descent into Calcutta. I kept my nose firmly pressed against the window pane, eager to catch the first glimmer of light that would tell me that we have arrived.

I was greeted by compete darkness and a few scattered points of light. Where were we?

Then we banked to the left.

Chennai at night looked like a constellation. This looked like an entire galaxy.

Stretched out below in all its festive brilliance, was Calcutta. Someone had gathered all the twinkling stars and gathered them in a long slender heap.

We were flying slowly and low. So I could see quite clearly.

Wait a minute, what is the dark serpentine thing that seems to bisect the illuminated mass? The river! And we were flying along it a little to the left.

There I could see the Kidderpore Docks, the Second Hoogly Bridge and looking a little beyond, could spy the Victoria Memorial, its light more white than the rest. And amidst all this was the light from the Durga Puja festivities, in colours green and red making for a spectacular sound and light show, if you could consider the drone of the jet engines.

We flew along the entire length of the city, stretching like a sliver of light for about 80 kilometres on either side of the river Hooghly. Calcutta is a very deceptive place. Only from the air did I realize how big the city was. it’s the third largest urban agglomeration in India and the 9^th largest in the world.

A sharp turn to the right and we were flying over the Estern wetlands, silvery in the moonlight. A wide descending arc and we were touching down even before we could realize it.

21:13 Hours

A slight bump, a sudden deceleration, the howling of the breeze and I was home.

Right in the epicentre of festive joy and cheer!

Postcards from Singapore will have to wait. I am not in the mood.

The reason: Durga Puja is approaching.

The magic has not reduced at all! Its just like the way it used to be when I was a schoolboy with an unruly mop of hair (astonishing but absolutely true).

In those days, we used to have our 2^nd Term examinations in September.

I always used to do badly. I don’t remember a single occasion when I came in the top 5 of my class in the 2^nd Term. I used to always leave it late and make up my ranks and grades in the final term.

Anyway let me now digress. As I was saying, we used to have our 2^nd term examinations in September. And right after that came the Puja. A month long holiday, no studies at all, a time to go out with friends, a time to enjoy…

We would go to Labony and sit on the waist high boundary wall and have animated conversations about football and cricket with frequent breaks every time a beautiful woman passed by. When this happened, there would be a pause, as we .nascent teens would appraise her! We would then discuss about her for the next 10 minutes. Then we would get back to the conversation thread that had been interrupted by a whiff of beauty.

Then we felt hungry we would go to one of the stalls and eat a egg-chicken roll, or a Mughlai Paratha. It helped that these stalls were set up by the residents. They would always give us boys a generous serving.

Usually around 7 PM we would have the “Aarati”. All of us would troop into the sanctum sanctorum. It would be a long affair amidst wisps of incense and the sound of drums. The frail old priest would, as if energised by the divine, sway with the incense holders in his hands and sonorously chant verses.

We usually did not linger for the entire duration, but would slip out and come back in time to receive those drops of holy water.

At some point during the evening the drummers would begin their dance and everyone in the vicinity would congregate to watch them, nimbly dancing with drums that look so heavy.

And then people would join in, the youngest children first, then the uncles a few years shy of superannuation, then the teens and the ones in their 20’s and 30’s. And then slowly as if transformed by the rhythm of the drums the whole crowd would dissolve into one joyous mass of dance!

On the Ashtami and Nabami (8^th and 9^th Day of the festival) afternoon, we would have a community feast.

The food was not always something to write about, but it always felt good to go to that big playground where a large tent would be put up and eat together.

The on Dusshera day came the time to bid the Goddess Adieu.

We would all go to Labony again. Right from the time they start to dismantle the pandal and bring out the Idols. Then we would watch as the idols would be placed on open trucks and illuminated.

Then the band would start playing and the trucks would start their slow journey through the streets of Salt Lake, followed by hundreds of people, some just walking and some dancing and singing. As we would make our way along the main roads of Salt Lake, people would come to their balconies to watch the Goddess go past and make one final prayer for the year.

This would continue all the way till my house. There the procession would end.

And I would run ahead and go home to help my parents get the water ready. Every year all the people would come to our housing complex to quench their thirst after a tiring march.

Its become a tradition now and all the people in the ground floors stay ready with bottles and jugs of water.

To me that is the essence of the Puja, of people reaching out to others.

It was for these moments that we would all eagerly wait from September, forgetting our studies and paying more attention to the new clothes we would get, the things we would do, which block would have the best puja and all that.

That was over 12 years ago.

Nothing has changed.

I am still waiting eagerly for the Puja’s, despite the fact that I am in Chennai, (it seems such a dreary place now) miles away from home. And just as I found it hard to concentrate on studies, I find that my mind is not on my work. My mind is 1600 kilometres away eagerly waiting for me to join him on 30^th September.

Ya Devi Sarva Bhuteshu
Shaktirupena Samsthita
Namastasyei Namastasyei
Namastasyei Namo Namaha

(Salutations to the Goddess who manifests as power in all beings)

Ya Devi Sarva Bhuteshu
Shantirupena Samsthita
Namastasyei Namastasyei
Namastasyei Namo Namaha

(Salutations to the Goddess who manifests in all beings in the form of peace.)Salutations)

At first glance it seemed to be too good to be true. The sparkling Changi Airport, the clean, wide and tree lines roads, the waterfront, everything. It seemed that Singapore was like a girl out on her first date, all dressed up to impress. But then beauty can be skin deep, so I reserved my judgement.

The Hotel was a massive 30 Storey edifice, not the best in town, but suitably starred for me. Most importantly my room, on the 25^th floor, had a bathtub. Now I have a special fascination for bathtubs. Love to lie in them for hours. Was’nt there a Greek Philosopher who lived in a barrel? Well, I do not know if Philosophy is an alternate profession for a Citibanker, but given a chance would love to live in a nice marble bathtub and ponder about the wonder of it all. Only problem, the world is full of material things. I can feed my heart and soul with thoughts, but the body needs things more substantial.

And more importantly, as a philosopher, your ideas and thoughts become well known once ther are over 100 years old; when the next generation of brain dead workaholics discover deep insights into essentially simple thoughts. Problem is, you don’t live that long.

So the bath tub was for the relaxing moments, after the day was done, with the “Straits Times” for company.

So began what Citibank calls as the “Management Associate Development Program”.

And we were a diverse lot.

India, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Philippines, Indonesia and Australia at the macro level.

It used to be an early, but delicious start to the day.

A three course breakfast. First course - bacon, sausages, eggs and hash brown potatoes.

Second course - Waffles/pancakes with dollops of maple syrup

Third course - Yogurt in flavours of the berries black, rasp and straw.

The effect: 2.5 Kilogrammes. Tangible volume addition to Nitid!

Some days were sleepy.

Blame it on the time zones. Singapore is an hour ahead of its time. So sleep would strike back with a vengeance post breakfast, as if confusing it with dinner! And as my body yearned to forget it all and drowsily curl up into the arms of Hypnos, the break, like an angel sent from Heaven would come.

Time for some tea! Earl Grey. Absolutely superb. A cup that truly cheers; light years away from the concoction I prepare in office, which tastes 50 parts damp paper and 50 parts saw dust!

The round II of Nitid vs. Hypnos. Nitid again snatching victory from the jaws of sleep!

Then came lunch! On the days when we remained on terra firma as far as the food went, things were hunky dory. Problem arose when we ventured out to the sea. Now I may not have the mustachios( Once upon a time I did), but like Hercule Poirot, I like not the sea, it agrees not with my stomach! And it was with a fair degree of horror that I used to venture out into the turgid soup containing some indeterminate marine life, now hopefully lifeless. Or nibble on some thing that I would like to think was nothing more harmless than a marine fish! And when the going got too choppy, I became a vegetarian…sad but true!

But that was not all.

Some days were really good. And the evenings were fun. But all that for another day!

14^th August 2006

When I was a kid, I had that great big World Atlas which I used to read like a book. It was old and politically incorrect in its boundaries. It had some pages missing, but it was otherwise just fine.

Reading it every night after dinner, I came to know of many places, places which I saw only in my mind.

I found out the Northernmost settlement in the world was called Alert. I guess you have to be alert to live a few hundred metres away from the North Pole.

I travelled around the Americas on my map, from Alaska to Patagonia. Travelled by the Danube, visited the Russian (Then Soviet) Far East, went from Cape to Cairo and many more interesting places.

There was only one area left out, South-East Asia. You see the relevant pages were missing.

Not that it mattered to me much, I had many places to explore in my mind.

So I grew up without too much fascination for what is termed as Asia-Pacific.

Almost two decades have past since I lost that great atlas during a house renovation.

Today I find that I am on another journey. A journey with people and not with maps.

I am seeing the places through my friends. And that is really great. So much so, that now I want to visit all the countries in South East Asia. Australia, I anyway wanted to go.

We are 57 of us from 8 different countries. All gathered in Singapore for a couple of weeks of training. The Management Associate Development Programme as Citibank likes to call it.

It is a welcome break from the monotony of work back in Chennai. It is a great time to let my life catch up with me. And I think that I am going to have a great time out here.

I hated Dubai, but looks like I am going to love Singapore….