Selection woes loom large over Indian cricket

This piece of writing (on the squad selection for the upcoming home series against New Zealand and T20 World Cup) may be a little late in its arrival, but its better late than never. A lot has already been said and written about the last assignment of the outgoing selection committee. But I believe everyone has their own way of looking at things and that is the fuel on which the entire business of sports critics runs.

Before I begin, let me pay due tribute to the career of arguably the most stylish Indian batsman of his generation, VVS Laxman. Another important pillar – that held together probably the most glorious period of Indian cricket – has finally called it a day. Speculations on his selection in the squad for the NZ series and he placing his individual aspirations before team’s interests have finally been put to rest. That he could have easily chosen to retire after playing the farewell test in his hometown Hyderabad and might have given himself a chance to reach the 9,000 runs milestone, has made him a greater person in my eyes than ever before.

It takes a man of great values to turn his back on such a tailor-made opportunity for a farewell match. VVS has always set examples for the coming generations to follow. Though numbers might not speak all about his talent and contributions, he will certainly be placed among the best to have played the game. His innings in the very famous Eden Test would always come up in discussions about the most stellar performances in the history of the game. The person replacing him in the squad would have big shoes to fill.

Coming back to the original agenda of selection of the squad for the NZ series and T20 World Cup, it disappointed more than it surprised me. Not that I was expecting radical changes in the squad; BCCI selection committees have never been known for that. But I sure was not expecting to see a couple of names that I can see and was expecting to see some that I cannot.

The biggest element of surprise was Piyush Chawla’s inclusion in both the squads. That would have been a surprise even if he would have possessed talent in the bowling department comparable to what Rohit Sharma has in batting, given his performance of late. His return to the team after such dismal shows in recent future in all forms of cricket did not go down well with anyone (I won’t trouble myself with the statistics; those could be found at various other sources). What was the basis of that move is beyond the grasp of a mere mortal.

Piyush Chawla has been included at the cost of a more promising young leg spinner Rahul Sharma. He did not get enough opportunities to prove himself before being dropped. I fail to understand the rationale behind this move. If at all Rahul Sharma paid the price for the alleged doping charges, this is truly a sorry state of affairs.

Moving on to another selection – that of Harbhajan Singh in the T20 World Cup squad. None would doubt his talent. He has good numbers against his name to back that up. But his recent performance both is domestic and county circuit won’t testify for his inclusion. Given the fact that he is in the squad, he is almost certain to make it to the playing eleven – you don’t generally leave out such experienced players to warm your bench, at least not in India. Let us hope that he comes back to his lethal self that made him claim the top spot in Indian bowling in past.

Yuvraj Singh has been reinstated to the Indian team for T20 World Cup. Before I go on and say anything about his selection, let me congratulate him; for he is a real fighter. I think the selectors have hurried on to their decision in this case. He must have played a couple of games before being selected. But this could still be passed as a calculated risk because he might play in the T20 matches against NZ and be aware of his standing. If he is fit and does play in the World Cup, that would be a big boon for India; for we all know how devastating and impactful he can be.

Another decision that surprised me was of Ishant Sharma being picked for the test series. A lot has been said about the effort that he puts in and his commitment unlike Rohit Sharma’s. But the numbers don’t reflect likewise. Besides, he has not featured in a single game after his recovery from injury. Opportunities to play in the national team cannot be handed out like this – that too coming on back of not so impressive performances.

Similarly, Suresh Raina has been rewarded for his good showing in the limited overs game by giving him a test berth. He is a class act in any limited overs game, but has failed to prove himself one in the longer format. These are certainly not good indications to the youngsters waiting on the fringe for their chances.
Gambhir’s reinstatement as the vice-captain in place of Kohli could be termed nothing but a vague decision. If Gambhir has done reasonably well in this period, what did Kohli do wrong? Though I believe this might come as a blessing in disguise to Kohli who should just be left alone with his batting given the sublime touch he is in currently.

There are a few more names that I could go on and talk about. But before that lets wait for the new selection panel to join the office and see how they fare with all the responsibilities or maybe liabilities that the outgoing committee has left for them.

P.S. I write columns on Cricket for TheCouchExpert
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Freedom cannot be bestowed; it must be achieved

A couple of hours away from the 65^th Independence Day (in fact it’d already be August 15^th in India), numerous thoughts cloud my mind; thoughts that could find no manifestation in words. After several unsuccessful attempts I could finally put together all the courage to give shape to those sporadic but worthwhile thoughts. Suddenly I started experiencing lack of proper media – a Facebook status update would restrict me in terms of space.

A post on Blogspot seemed to be a good idea; but then I thought – “Do I really need to post this?”
I could not figure out an answer.
So keeping all those doubts aside, I began writing; my laptop, I thought, would be the best place to keep it.

I had never before found myself so engrossed with such thoughts. There could be various reasons behind that – Maybe because I have been living abroad for some time now; or maybe I have started to grow up and think about things other than me and my immediate surroundings; or maybe I am at a vantage point from where I could easily look at what should be and should not be.

Are we really independent?
I know what a typical answer would be - “Hell yeah! Are you out of your minds?”
But spare a thought to this. Aren’t we enslaved by our own thoughts? Aren’t we engulfed by so much of self-interest that we don’t even bother to think beyond that?
A good half an hour and you might yourself start pondering over many more such questions?

I’m not here to question anyone; or to change anyone’s thoughts or opinions. I’d be much happier if that feeling comes on its own. Believe me; I’m not going to preach patriotism or nationalism over the next couple of paragraphs. All I’m trying to do is vent out my emotions – yes, emotions!

The dire situation of women in our society is what hurts me the most. I’m not trying to be a feminist. But imagine the plight of a woman. She might not feel safe the moment she steps outside the doors of her house; sometimes not even when inside them. A civilization can certainly survive with poverty, with not so prospering economy and high fuel prices, but with such disgustful attitude toward a section of the humanity that should be dealt with utmost respect is doubtful.

An extremely sarcastic person would say – “We are a democracy in the real sense! Everyone is free to do what they please to”.
He won’t be wrong in saying so. Terms like freedom and democracy have been so badly misconstrued that I doubt today are we even ready to accept the real meanings of those terms. A face-to-face with reality might scare us to hell.

Even a hardcore philanthropist would turn into an opposite upon very deep scrutiny of our newspapers daily - newspapers that are nowadays leading to nothing but cynicism. But they are not the only ones to be blamed. May be that is the ugly truth! Our TV News Channels have gone a step ahead, or should I say a whole stairwell ahead. In this case I won’t mind blaming them completely. If this continues for a long time, people of our country might lose faith in the system and might never expect good things coming their way. That would be doomsday.

The part of this whole chapter that bothers me the most is our attitude toward all that. We are either very critically vocal about them or we are just too cool to care. Some would very proudly write the whole issue off saying – “Things are beyond repair now”
But it’s never too late to mend. It is indeed not too late.
As someone rightly said – “The first step to solving any problem is recognizing that there is one”.
That certainly doesn’t mean declaring the problem as unassailable.
Only when you dream, would you achieve. Tell me one Indian that doesn’t dream of a nation where things were in the best possible shape. So we are already one step down that path. All we need to do is take further steps –just for some time keeping all our individual interests aside and looking at a rather bigger picture than just our own selves.

There certainly are many more thoughts still floating in the lake of my mind; but it seems now is not the right time to put them all together.
By now I have also figured out the answer to the question that I asked myself in the beginning. That is precisely why you are reading this.

With this, I bid all the readers a very happy Independence Day. Jai Hind!

P.S. I’ve borrowed the title of this article from the former US President Franklin D. Roosevelt

The worst experience at a restaurant ever

Things happen to you almost every day - some good, some not so good. But there are some that you can never forget, some that you think over and over about. The very mention of that brings you to laughter. A similar incident happened with me while I was on vacation in Florida last year.

No sooner did we step out of it than, I promised to my friends that I’ll take the pain to write a review of that place. The place in question is Shalimar Indian Restaurant, a self proclaimed top notch restaurant in Orlando, Florida. But later on it came to me more as an afterthought that it won’t be a justice to ordeals that we went through in those two hours if I’d just write a review. Hence the blog!

It was Christmas and we were completely drained out after a long day in the Universal Studios. So a unanimous decision was made to have some Desi food for dinner. The other day we had come across the name of Shalimar Restaurant in the guide book of the hotel we were staying in. That was reason enough to believe that it’ll be a good place to eat. Anyway, I’d not waste any time on not-so-important things and get to the point real quick.

There was something very weird about the place right from the outset. There was this guy who was sitting at the entrance as if he was there to get the guests seated; but that was not to happen. Rather we ran into a waiter who got us some place to sit. This waiter – let me call him the Arabic guy; for he was not an Indian nor a Pakistani because he did not understood a word of what we spoke to him in Hindi and he himself spoke English in Arabic accent. I asked him how big will be a plate of Biryani. To my surprise he said it will be good for three of us. One of us being a non-vegetarian asked about Nihari Curry if it was a chicken-dish. He answered in affirmative. The mention of Rumali Roti in the menu excited one of us. We were ready with our order. A minute later this Arabic guy comes up saying that the Nihari Curry contains beef, so we had to order something else.

Fifteen minutes later. He keeps a basket containing some chapattis on the table. While wondering over the fact that those chapattis by no means resembled Rumali Rotis, we started having couple bites of them. Suddenly the Arabic guy shows up again. He says, ‘Sorry!’ and without even giving us a chance to react takes the basket away. A few minutes later on, he is up with the complete order. The basket again had similar chapattis not Rumali Rotis, by the way

Before we begun, one of us counted the number of chapattis in the basket and was amused to find five of them. For the record, we had ordered for three Rumali Rotis; and five by no means fits into the scheme. They should have been either three or six for that matter. To add to that the chapattis were not even hot. We called for the Arabic guy once again and send the chapattis back with him so that he could get them corrected both in quantity and quality; though I somehow felt that the drama is not going to end so soon. He returned but with the same number of chapattis again. This infuriated us.

We asked the Arabic guy to call some supervisor. For a long time no one showed up. Out came another guy –lets call him the American guy; there is precisely no reason for this except that he spoke English in American accent ad more so because I don’t want to mix up the characters. At first it looked like he will be able to address our concerns, but unfortunately he could not do much. All he could manage was to call the head cook (as he termed it). The head cook was an elderly man who spoke to us very politely. He clarified that the chapattis that were served were all he had to offer in the name of Rumali Rotis and he would certainly get the number of chapattis amended.

In the meantime we had called for some water. A guy with a couple of glasses of water showed up. Lets call him the Indian guy – for he was the only Indian waiter in an otherwise Indian restaurant. We had earlier called for him but he did not even bother to pay us attention. One of us was prompt in asking him ‘Why did you not even bother to reply when we were calling you?’

His reply took us by a shock. He said, ‘I was busy and anyway I’m not supposed to serve you.’

That was reason enough for one of my friends to get irate. He gave him a good taste of his own medicine.

Let us return to the main track. We had received some chapattis in a basket once again. But to our extreme surprise, they were again five in number. We started laughing at this. The American guy suddenly appeared from nowhere with reply to a question we had never asked him. We somehow got rid of him. There could be seen a Chinese waiter.  I don’t think he had got anything to do over there. All he would do was walk back and forth from one corner of the restaurant to the other. When I called him he simply pointed towards the American guy and moved ahead. 

The scene was getting annoying but funny at the same time. We now decided to be a little mischievous. We called the phone number of the restaurant and asked them to send someone to our table – all this while we were sitting in the restaurant. This did not go down too well with the head cook who showed up.

His first question was, ‘Sir, what is your problem?’

I said, ‘Excuse me! Give me a break. I’m the one who should be saying that.’

At this he got hold of himself and said, ‘Alright sorry for all this. It is festival time. You are busy as well as I’m busy. Lets not make a scene.’
I replied, ‘That is what we’re trying to do since more than last one hour. And if you are so busy then why run the restaurant!’

Without taking the drama any further we decided its time we shall leave the place without eating a single more bite. We asked him to get the check. He tried to persuade us not to leave but without any success. We insisted on check without the 15% tip that they said will be added to the check directly – Though it is the practice here to give out a 15% tip but that is rarely a part of your bill. Moreover, since we were not at all pleased with the service, there was no question of tip. 

Just when we started to believe that the action was finally over, he turned up with the check. The total amount appeared to be relatively high. Upon checking I found out that we were charged for items we had never ordered. He promptly identified that it was not the correct check. The three of us burst into a huge laughter. He went inside to get the correct check. He returned with the corrected check after a while.

While the head cook was away, I took the opportunity to ask the Chinese guy about the note that was put up at the entrance saying the restaurant was rated Excellent by Zagat (Zagat is a website that rates restaurant based on reviews provided by diners). I questioned the genuineness of that claim.  He was very abject in saying that he did not have any idea about that. 

We paid the amount due and left with some bitter (or maybe sweet or maybe hilarious?) memories of the place. We could not stop laughing and talking about the place before we went into our beds. As I had rightly termed back then – That was indeed the worst experience at a restaurant ever.

The Longest Week of My Life (A Tour Full of Adventures)

After a couple of pals advised me to jot down this memorable journey of mine, I finally thought of giving a go at it. It was indeed a memorable journey, probably an experience of a lifetime. But before I begin, let me put this straight. Surely the latter half of the story is something one would read this piece of writing for. But before that you might have to put up with what all things I did before the drama actually unfolded.

I was very excited before it all even began. I had been planning about this trip for some time, around a week before the big day when I was to begin my travel finally arrived. The day was 17^th March, 2011. My flight was scheduled to depart at 7 in the morning from Pune airport. With the new rule effective– that demands you to be at the airport for check in at least 45 minutes before the scheduled departure – I was almost sure to miss my flight. But fortunately I somehow made it. That one day in Delhi was a good one. Delhi or rather Gurgaon on its first sight was mesmerizing. The city in terms of its infrastructure is undoubtedly world-class. And my immediate reaction was “Goodness, I already like this city”. But this opinion was surely not to last for the whole day; maybe because I did not come across some very friendly people in the Metros of Delhi. Anyway, I got an opportunity to visit the Qutub Minar and the Red Fort (or the Lal Quila) in Delhi. Having read a lot about these historic monuments in history during the school days had instigated in me a real excitement about these places and actually seeing them was an experience that could not just be put into words. One more place in Delhi does deserve a mention here – the famous Paranthe-wali-Gulli. There I got to eat some really good paranthe made up of Chilly, Lemon, Mint, etc and believe me they were delicious.

Finally, it was the end of the day and I had to head towards Jammu, the city of temples. I had 2 tickets to Jammu. The reason was fairly simple. The first ticket, the one that was confirmed, was of a train by which I’d reach there by 11 a.m. The other train would take me there by 8 in the morning and that was precisely what I wanted (I’ll mention the reason ahead) but the ticket was Wait-listed. Fortunately or unfortunately, this Wait-listed ticket got converted into an RAC (Reservation Against Cancellation) where you get a shared berth. I dared to cancel the confirmed ticket a couple of hours before the train   and go ahead with the RAC as I and a friend of mine strongly believed that it would be confirmed by the time the train actually departs. But we were wrong. So I had to travel those 9 hours on an RAC ticket and there I was in Jammu.

It was 8 in the morning on 18^th March. I had 3 hours before I would be joined by my Bhaiya, Bhabhi and a couple of cousins. I learned that there was the famous Raghunath temple not too far from the Railway station. Mind you, I was carrying a pre-paid cell phone that would become inactive once I entered Jammu. So it was necessary to be at the station when my brother arrived in order to avoid any difficulties. Nonetheless I utilized that time nicely to pay a visit to the Raghunath temple and see around the local market. They arrived almost at time and we headed towards Katra from where we began our uphill journey, at around 8 in the night, towards the holy Vaishno Devi temple, around 14 kms uphill from Katra. By 11.30 p.m. we had reached Ardhakumari (around mid-way between Katra and the temple).

There is a famous temple at Ardhakumari; we had planned to visit that temple. You generally need to wait for 3-4 hours before your turn to visit the temple. So we decided to take the tickets and proceed toward the Vaishno Devi temple and visit the Ardhakumari temple while returning. After having walked for an hour or so from there, for the first time we encountered something we were not prepared for. It started raining heavily; fortunately the place we were caught up in was shaded preventing us from getting drenched. It was absolutely freezing – the coolest I’ve ever lived in. And as I already said we were not prepared for this, which means that we were carrying neither winter clothes nor anything that could shield us from rain. Though the rain was not to continue forever, it did last for two long hours. We moved ahead after that rain-break. And it took another hour to reach the Bhavan, where we had to give up all the bags, footwear and anything made of leather, before the Darshan. To walk bare-feet on the freezing ground was not easy. Before we could go for the Darshan, it started pouring again; this time with even more intensity, and this time it continued for almost four hours. I was literally shivering during that time. Anyway, the rain finally stopped and we finished our Darshan. By this time the clock ticked 11 in the morning on 19^th March and we were already late by almost seven hours as per our plans. From there we headed towards the Bhaironath temple, around 4 kms uphill from the Bhavan. These 4 kms were the toughest part of the journey but we were really pumped up and determined to make up somewhat for the lost time. We travelled those 4 kms in no time and finally reached Bhaironath. No sooner did we arrive there, than it started pouring once again. The rain was accompanied by hail storm and was followed by some snowfall as well. It was truly a scintillating experience. We had to wait for almost three hours before we could get Darshan at the Bhaironath temple. Having waited there for an hour after the Darshan, we finally began our downward journey. Needless to say, we had banished any plans for Ardhakumari by now. By the time we reached Katra, it was almost the end of the day. The only thing we did after reaching Katra was eat and sleep.

Come 20^th March and there were a number of things waiting for me in different cities. I had a train to board from Jammu railway station for Jalandhar at 9 a.m. I was under a wrong impression that Katra to Jammu was a matter of just one to one and a half hours. So I began from Jammu exactly at 7 a.m. by a public bus. It was not a long time when I came across reality and my wrong impression was corrected. I learned from my fellow passengers in the bus that it would indeed take me two hours to reach Jammu. I was exasperated as to how would I make it to the train on time even if the bus took me there timely. But that thought could not bother me for long as my bus was soon caught in traffic at around quarter to 9. I almost immediately decided to get down from the bus and pursue some other means. I hardly took any time to find another road heading towards Jammu. I waived to the first car that I could see going in that direction. It was an old Maruti 800. The car stopped immediately. There was a Punjabi uncle inside the car with his wife and his two children – a son and a daughter. He promptly agreed to take me to Jammu railway station though he was actually not going there. By the time we reached Jammu city, it was almost 9 and the railway station still seemed some distance and to add to it, we did not know the way. But the Punjabi uncle and his wife were too keen to get me to station in time. They enquired about the way to railway station at every traffic signal until eventually we reached there. I thanked the uncle and aunty from the bottom of my heart before I got down from the car and rushed towards the platform. The security personnel let me go without even having to pass my bag through the X-ray machine when I mentioned that I was getting late for the train. But all this was destined to go in vain as I was late and the train was not. It was time to have some breakfast – delicious Chana-Puri outside Jammu station. That I had just missed a train (to Jalandhar) didn’t at all bother me. My original plan to reach Amritsar from Jalandhar was by road. But that won’t hold any long. So I headed towards the Jammu & Kashmir Road Transport Corporation (J&KRTC) bus stop and I got the next bus to Amritsar at 10 in the morning. I learned that the bus will take five and a half hours i.e. effectively 3.30 p.m.

At around 12 noon, something happened, something that was completely filmy. The bus had reached Lakhanpur – a place in J&K, at the border of J&K and Punjab. It stopped and I got down to get a bottle of water. I returned to where the bus stood to find no signs of the same. The bus had gone with my bag but without me. I spoke to a couple of people at a nearby tea-shop. There was a guy who promised that he would take me to my bus but his bike promised not to start. The next step was simple – look for other options. I again waived at the first car I could see coming my way. This time it was an Alto. Again a couple of Punjabis came to my rescue. Both of them must have been in their mid-thirties. One of them said, “Get inside, mate! We’ll help you to your bus”.  We estimated that the bus would halt at Sujanpur (around 15 kms from Lakhanpur) for some time. But we were wrong. Sujanpur is a place in Punjab, at the border of Punjab and J&K.  I got to know that the place where those Punjabis had to go was hardly a couple of kms from the place where we met. Their hospitality greatly obliged me. I asked them to drop me somewhere because I had already troubled them a lot and didn’t want to trouble them anymore. They offered to take me till Pathankot (30 kms from Sujanpur), as they predicted the bus would have advanced in the same direction. Somewhere near Pathankot, I saw a J&KRTC bus coming in our direction. I thanked them and got down from their car. I boarded that bus and very soon realized that Pathankot was not in the way to Amritsar. Anyway that was no more relevant.

Now was the time to find out some way to get back my bag. I spoke to the conductor of this newly boarded bus and to my relief he told me that he had the contact number of the conductor of the bus I missed. Very soon I knew that I’ll have my bag with me once again. The conductor of the missed bus told that he’ll give my bag to their agent at Amritsar bus depot. The only loss that occurred was of an hour. Time to move on. That bus to Amritsar took me through the villages of Punjab – I don’t exactly know the reason why it didn’t follow the normal route i.e. the highways, but one thing that I assume might have been the reason was some procession because I could see the policemen signaling to take diversions. Anyways, the journey continued and when I must have been an hour away from Amritsar, I got a piece of news – it was from the conductor. The conductor of the missed bus had called him up to say that the agent was not there and now I should collect my bag when my bus would cross the missed bus on its way back to Jammu. That happened pretty soon and while returning my bag the conductor of the missed bus was angry at me for the simple reason that I’d got down from the bus without telling him. I didn’t even get a chance to thank him for returning my bag. By the time I reached Amritsar, it was almost 5 in the evening. Before I tell you anything about Amritsar, let me first tell you that I had a train from Faridkot (120 kms from Amritsar) to Jalgaon (in Maharashtra) at 9.10 p.m. which meant that I did not have much time in Amritsar. So I dropped the idea of visiting the Wagah Border, I was so excited about. I rushed to the Golden Temple. By the time I was done with the Darshan there, it was almost 6.30 p.m. Because of shortage of time I couldn’t even visit the famous Jallianwala Bagh, which must not have been more than a matter of couple of minutes from the Golden Temple. I returned to the bus depot to find out that the next bus to Faridkot was at 7.20 p.m. Yet again I was faced with the risk of missing a train. It was twice in the same day. Sadly I had no other option left but to go by that bus and so did I. By the time I was nearing Faridkot, I realized that I was already late for the train. Precisely then, a thought crept into my mind. I was aware of the route of the train. Based on that I estimated that I could catch up with this train at Bhatinda (60 kms from Faridkot). The scheduled departure time from Bhatinda was 10.30 p.m. I decided to continue by the same bus which will take me till Kotkapura (around 20 kms from Faridkot i.e. effectively 40 kms from Bhatinda). In the meantime, I found out something really startling. There was a guy sitting alongside me in the bus. He told me that the train I was hoping to board was cancelled. At first, I didn’t believe him. I called up a friend of mine in Pune and he confirmed the same. The reason behind this was the famous Jaat Andolan (don’t have a very clear idea about it but it was something related to a community of people called the Jaat’s protesting for reservation for their caste). So this guy sitting beside me was indeed correct. In conversation with him, I got to know a couple of things about him. He was an army-man posted in Ladakh. Ladakh is at the extreme north of the Indian geography, ahead of Kargil. He shared a couple of stories about how difficult life was out there. Though we didn’t know each other’s names, we somewhat made friends with each other in that small journey of ours.

We got down at Kotkapura, then waited for some time for the bus to Bhatinda and finally got it, though I was not sure what I was going to do upon reaching Bhatinda as the train was already cancelled. By the time I reached there it was around 11 p.m. This guy told me that there were a couple of trains early in the morning going to Delhi or rather there was a train immediately to Patiala from where I could get trains to Delhi. He was going by that train but I decided not to take that train. So it was time to big good bye to the newly found friend of mine. I thought of spending the night at some nearby hotel or lodge. It must have been around midnight. Mind you, it was the day of Holi, the festival of colors. I went to a couple of hotels to find them shut. I could finally locate a hotel which from the first look no doubt resembled the Descent Hotel of the Hindi movie Jab We Met. But I had no Kareena Kapoor accompanying me. I enquired the person at the reception (or counter) and he told me the rent for a room was Rs. 200. I demanded to see the room and the room was horrible. But only thing that gave me relief was that it just resembled the Descent Hotel but was actually a decent hotel. I declined to pay even Rs. 200. He immediately came down to Rs. 150. I had no other option but to settle down at that place. It was around already around an hour past midnight; and believe me I had no intention of getting up early in the morning. So after such a long day out, I finally went in to bed.

I got up at around 10 a.m. on the morning of 21^st March. I had absolutely no idea how was this day going to turn out for me. I had a quick breakfast and left for the Bhatinda bus stop, where I got to know that there was no direct bus to Delhi. All I could do was get a bus to a nearby town called Dabwali (pronounced as Daab-wadi) in Haryana. Dabwali is around 40 kms from Bhatinda. And so I entered Haryana. From Dabwali, I had to take a bus to Sirsa or Hisaar. Actually Sirsa comes in the way to Hisaar. I boarded a Haryana Roadways bus to Hisaar. Upon reaching Sirsa bus stop, I saw a bus to Delhi ready for departure. I gave a thought to boarding this bus but the conductor, of the bus I was sitting in, persuaded me not to get down and to continue till Hisaar by the same bus. I agreed. And later that proved to the biggest folly I committed that day and it was not until I reached Hisaar that I realized it. At Hisaar bus stop what I saw took me by surprise. All I could see were human heads. Because of the already talked about Jaat Andolan, all the trains on this route were cancelled. So the entire population was forced to take the roadways. I could see only one bus to Delhi and it was packed to capacity. People were sitting on top of roof of the bus. The queue for ticket was a mile long. It was the most pathetic situation I’ve come across in the whole journey. I saw a private bus lined up at some distance. I immediately went up to the conductor of that bus, negotiated and was successful in getting a seat in that bus. Thank God. By the time I reached Delhi, it was almost 9.30 and I was badly exhausted. It took me another hour and half to reach my Maasi’s place in Delhi. Mausaji assured me that he’ll arrange for a ticket to Pune the next day. That relieved me to a great extent. After having dinner and some small chit-chat session with Maasi and my cousins, I fell asleep very quickly.

The next day, i.e. 22^nd March was a pretty simple one. I got up and rushed to get my online ticket for some train the same day. There was some relative of my Mausaji in Indian Railway Board, who could get a Wait-listed ticket confirmed under some quota in no time. But there were some constraints. For the train on same day, the scheduled departure had to be earliest at 4 in the evening and to add to my problems, there were no trains to Pune after 4 p.m. What now? I took a ticket by a train to Mumbai, its scheduled departure being around 9 p.m. As promised, my ticket got confirmed and I got the news by 5 in the evening. The day went on very smoothly unlike the last two days. I got enough time to rest, played cricket with my cousins in the evening and lots of chit-chat with Maasi. Finally I left for the New Delhi railway station well in advance this time and boarded the train comfortably and the train departed. I thought the adventure might have just come to an end when the train stopped at the Hazrat Nizammudin station. This time it was a bomb hoax. A crew of policemen accompanied by Sniffer dogs and the bomb squad boarded the train. The drama was exaggerated when an unclaimed bag was located in the bogie in which I was seated, rather in the coupe beside mine. But later on it was found out to belong to a person who was sitting in some other bogie. It took all this around an hour to be resolved. But services eventually resumed and there was no more drama after this. It was time for me to go to sleep.

I woke up quite early on 23^rd March. I discovered that were a couple of interesting people alongside me in the train. There was a Sardarji, who was actually a railway employee but was also employed by Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). He was appointed as the official scorer for a few matches in the World Cup, 2011. He was heading towards Ahmedabad for covering the Quarter final match between India and Australia. So he had to get down at Surat. I and other fellow passengers wished him luck for his assignment in Ahmedabad. Even for him, travelling by this train was a makeshift plan because his direct train to Ahmedabad had been cancelled (again because of the Jaat Andolan).

It must have been around 7 when I reached Mumbai. I took a Volvo bus to Pune soon. When I reached Pune, it was already 24^th March. The time must have been around 1 a.m. I went to bed without wasting any time. Before falling asleep a couple of thoughts struck my mind. I realized that with this came to an end a journey that I could have never planned. It all happened accidently. But surely, it was an experience worth a lifetime, something you can really term a tour full of adventures.

People on Facebook can follow the following location to see the pics of this journey

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?id=1110087825&aid=2105424