Vodka Shot Cuatro

Broken dreams are like shattered glass, weren't meant to last. 


But I say, thank you broken dreams, for you showed me what I am really meant to be. 


And so I'll go on, stronger and prettier and better.

Photo: http://www.istockphoto.com/stock-photo-6042424-summer.php?st=b9cca96 

A Cricketer Less Ordinary

Being a girl, my cricket frenzy was limited to the looks of the cricketers. At a young age, I collected pictures of cute cricketers from all teams and stuck them in a diary. And that is why, maybe, I could be nobody else’s die hard fan (no offense). It was always Rahul Dravid.

I had no elder brother seeing whom I could see cricket frenzy. My dad wasn’t much of cricket crazy person. There was family friend, much like a sister to me. She was THE fan. She had posters, interviews, pictures, everything you could possibly imagine. Even their birth day dates were the same. I was awed. I read them all and realized that there is something about him. The next SportsStar (Fortnightly Sport Magazine of The Hindu) had a pull out poster of him. I stuck it in my clothes almirah and saw it almost all day daily.

I grew up and continued to admire him albeit with lesser fervor. My fascination for him was well-known among friends and family. During his match in Australia in 2003, where he made the fabulous double century, I was travelling. My younger brother, now slightly aware of the cricket tamasha, teased me throughout the way saying that Dravid will be back to the pavilion at 199. I kept fighting him. That was the kind of trust Dravid placed in us. In 2003, the first time I followed the World Cup was because of him. I was not saddened by the final loss but I was amazed by the way he led the team to the finals. Just brilliant.

In 2007, India suffered a crushing defeat at the World Cup. Our media has forever had the habit of taking a cricketer to Mount Everest and then pulling him completely zameen ke neeche. But Dravid maintained his dignity. He never embarrassed you.

His address at the Bradman Oration in Canberra made us all proud yet again. I read each word of the speech only to be filled with more respect for him.

I can’t comment on the way he played. No analyst there. Though I have seen innumerable jokes on how slow he was. But he took it second by second, it seems – every second speaking for itself. He was used to pressure but the dressing room stories say otherwise. He was The Wall for them too. Indeed, the Mr. Dependable. Never exaggerated his presence, always maintained a subtle appearance. Every time I looked at his picture, I was filled with a sort of calm – this guy is still there.

Now that he’s gone, cricket doesn’t seem so important any more. However much I may dislike IPL, I get to see Dravid in action again. I side with the team he is in – even if that needs me to change loyalties from one team to the other like some fickle minded person. But it’s only Dravid who matters. I watched cricket because of him. And now I won’t watch cricket, because of him being not there.

I sincerely hope to see him in the positive limelight just so that he can continue to remind this generation of Indian cricket’s glorious past. Adios, Jammy. You’ll always be my favoritist. 

photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rahul_Dravid_-_moving_the_field.jpg