The trillion odd hairs raised in a moment of disbelief and asked " What did you say?"

I took out a brown cover and unfolded my most precious treasure at that time - my Passport. I pulled it out like a magician pulls out a rabbit out of his hat. My boss stood up. Grabbed the passport and said " You are going to be a superstar in this World cup." He actually said that. Who wouldn't be thrilled. I was on cloud nine to the power of 9. After a few moments, he asked " Would you like to be a part of our company?" The trillion odd hairs raised in a moment of disbelief and asked " What did you say?" in harmony. Simply putting it, it gave me goosebumps. 

The brief started then, with all the teams assembled. It was an 'over-the-head' transmission. The last time I felt the same way was in my cost accounting classes. But I managed to get some notes onto my laptop. I was still dazed. Awestruck. Dumb.Infact running out of adjectives. It was February 6th. 

Towards the end of the discussion, I was informed that I would be leaving on the 8th of February. I was yet to believe that I would be living my dream in a couple of days. My boss said, even if i had the slightest of doubts whether I would be able to do this job, I shouldn't take it. One of the most affirmative answer of my life came then, I said " I will." With a lot of wishes, guidance and inputs, I walked out of the office premises. 

The earth was spinning like Muralitharan's 'doosra.' I dint understand what hit me. I stared at a traffic filled road. I just saw but dint pay attention. After that I looked up to the sky, with eyes filled with happiness in the form of tears. I thanked my parents & god endlessly, like an incessant chant. It was a moment of bliss. A moment of fluctuating heart beat and pulse. A fight between belief and relief. Even though I might not have scaled the peak, I atleast started the climb towards it.

The past is the legacy for the future !

After getting a passport, I'd got wings. Literally. I decided to fly back to Mumbai. It was time for retrospection. Though my words might not be as powerful as my thought, that was a time that I'd taken for me to reflect on my past. One of my demi-gods, actually God, Rajinikanth has often mentioned that " Never forget the past and the road in which you traveled to your destination." That is so true. Often people work so hard for their goals. But they tend to get carried away due to their faint momentary success and end up losing their way and all their hard work goes for a waste. A typical example of the Indian team's performance in the death overs at the World cup. A single word is " Collapse." Mr. Trevor Chesterfield once said that " The past is the legacy for the future." Striking statement.

I dint want a collapse at such an early stage of my life. Without thinking too much of it, I just wanted to enjoy the moment and the seize the happiness that it provides. The song which ruled my life then was " Puthiya Manidha" from the movie "Endhiran."   

I arrived in Mumbai at early hours and dropped my luggage at my house and took the train straight to my office. Even at that time I dint know whether I would be getting an opportunity to work in the world cup. It was pretty hazy and unsure. It was a sort of risk. But I backed my instinct and walked into the office. My prospective boss looks at me with anxiety written all over his face. The first thing he asks, even before greeting me is " Where is your passport?." Without a reply, I took time for me catch my breath back and dug into my "All in All" bag. He waited in anticipation with a few more colleagues' pupil fixed on the bag I was digging into. 

I felt I had just scribbled an autograph

After a bit of confidence, I slowly started to let out the information that there was a possibility for me to work in the world cup. Eyebrows raised, lips pouted and the thumbs were up. It was a very positive sign. I held my breath and payed to god every moment. The day arrived and I arrived at the passport office. Headed straight towards the registrar. I was asked to sign and collect my passport at counter number 4. After receiving the passport in my hands, there was a fuse in the daylight. I felt I had just scribbled an autograph to one of my fans. I'm glad I had the audacity to think that way. Who wouldn't if they get a passport at their will for a pursuit of your dream. It was an inexplicable feeling.

I met my dad on the way to my house, showed him the passport. He was thrilled and allotted me a budget for my shopping. With full blast thumping music, and a bike. I was zooming past the streets like a hero, already imagining how it would be to be part of the 3rd biggest sporting event in the world. I was excited I was going to travel. My first foreign trip to our neighboring country, Sri Lanka.  The world could see the happiness on my face. With a 1000 watt bulb , attached in front of my face always, the brightness in my face was inevitable.

I believed that passports could make or break dreams.

It was 31st of January. With almost a mission impossible on hand, getting a postport from Chennai Passport office within a week, decided to travel to Chennai. With no trains giving me seats and unaffordable flight rates, I decided to brave my most dreaded form of transport - Bus. I had to go to Bangalore and take another bus from there to Chennai. It was a non stop travel of 24 hours before I landed in my hometown.

With quick work done at my home, with all the forms filled up and certificates ready, I just had to get there and scribble my signature on the papers. Getting the notary's sign on a stamp paper, Printing out an almost possible form to fill, attesting all my certificates was a humungous task, which was made atrociously easy by my folks back home. They wanted me to get this, as much as I wanted to. 

February 2nd, I was accompanied by my parents to the passport office on an excursion.  I walked into the office with a lot of backing and influence from higher authorities., without which i was due to get my 'tatkal' passport in a month. Living upto its name, there was enough drama before I submitted my passport form and other relevant documents. After some unbelievable confrontations, I made sure that my form was accepted and a seal which said 2 days. That means I would get my passport on the 4th of february. 

People to whom I recited this story were in a state of shock. Never was it possible for a person to get his newly applied passport within a span of 48 hours. But everything has a first time. Those 48 hours were filled with anxiety, prayers, wishes, expectations. Then I believed that passports could make or break dreams. I still had not told anyone about the reason for me applying for the passport and needing it such short and urgent notice. I din't want to jump the gun. What in case I wouldn't get it?

Anyone from India who would have heard this, would have either laughed, or spat.

A couple of heavy days went by. I was fueling myself with self belief and prayers. The day arrived. I went to the office and waited for my boss. While I was waiting I was chatting with the other people who were already on board for the World cup. I was hoping to call themselves my colleagues. It was rather a long wait, for about 6 hours. Finally I attended the bell at the door. I was welcoming my prospective boss, with a sigh of relief. 

He invited me to his room, with a couple of his colleagues. The discussion headed straight into, when I could get myself a passport. With his knacky humor he exclaimed " Only if you get the passport, you will find yourself a job." He had asked me how quickly I could get myself a passport. Without thinking I said " 1 week". Anyone from India who would have heard this, would have either laughed, or spat. Getting a passport was, is and never going to be an easy task in India. 

My boss quickly pounced and told me that, I had to get back to Mumbai in 1 week with the passport, in order for me to proceed further. He also added that If I had a passport there was a possibility for me to travel to Sri Lanka to cover the world cup. But if things did not work out with the interview, he exclaimed that I would atleast have a passport, if not for the job. Thus I was not sure whether I would get myself a job or not, still. Such a terrible situation to be in. This was on the 31st January. 

Just like the Proteas, I choked under pressure.

The first question was, "Do you have a passport?", I said "No." Happiness of a possible travelling  opportunity, and sadness of not having a passport. With mixed emotions, I continued my interview. I got stalled to a question in the process. Another question followed, " What will be your 2 questions to Sachin Tendulkar, when he arrives at the airport, and You've just got a minute with him?." The very fact that there was a possibility to meet my GOD, blanked my senses. What will you ask GOD, when he makes a sudden unexpected appearance? Just like any Sachin fan, the second his name was uttered, it got me joy, happiness and speechlessness. That moment reminded me of the final question, that Jamal Mallick had to answer in the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I still haven't found the answers to that question. Rather I'm yet to find questions to that question.

After a few discussions, I was asked to get back a couple of days later. With unexplainable disappointment, I was kicking myself through my way back to my house. I called my mom and told her that the interview for my dream Job dint go well. She replied, just like any caring mother would reply, "You have done your bit, God will take care of the rest. Whatever happens, happens for the good." Those words still ring in my ears and gives me goose pimples. 

My nights dream was marred with the words from Steve Waugh to Gibbs, "He dropped the World Cup." The interview was a sitter, compared my standards.  That too after bragging about my passion towards cricket and working in the World cup. I felt let down by my speechlessness. I had to deliver at the right moment, but I choked under pressure, just like the proteas. 

The words "work & Job" were replaced by " Passion and Career", in what was a moment of disbelief.

After the previous call, the world just toppled for me, like an axis change of 180 degrees. The world was spinning faster than usual, with me at the centre. My friend asked " What happened?", and I was stuck for words. I was just smiling, finding the right words to put my expressions across. Later after a lot of effort, I was able get my language sense back and put it in words. 

I looked at my tainted phone. It did deliver the best news after all. I called my family and explained what just happened. They tried to underplay their emotions, but in vain. I was asked to write an article about the Indian team that was selected for the world cup. I smirked, smiled & laughed, at the ironic situation. That is what I had been doing even before the team list was announced. I had my take on every single player that was selected. It is from that moment that I felt, how it would be to build a career on your passion. The words "work & Job" seemed have disappeared from my dictionary, which were replaced by " Passion and Career",  in what was a moment of disbelief.

That article was later reviewed as a " Careless but daring" piece of writing, though it earned me an Interview call.  With loads of information, passion & wishes, I walked into the interview. It was pretty intimidating I must agree. The train travel from Goregaon to Grant Road (Both in Mumbai) which generally takes a couple of hours whizzed past. Though I wanted it to be a bit longer. I finally figured out the location and walked into the office. It was a nervous debut, I confess.

That was the most 'hair-raising' phone call I've ever got in my life.

Ok, fine. God was not fair to me. In a varied mind whether to get back to my home town, Chennai or not, I was giving it a shot for one final weekend. I was shopping with a friend of mine in a shopping mall, that too on a Sunday. Accompanying her, with a mind of a see-saw and nodding my head with a disinterested acknowledgement for the things she purchased, I was in a different world altogether. 

The most battered, broken, abused, shabby, useful and a favorite piece of object I have is my phone. I use it more as a music device than a conversational device. I used to say that, I would wait for my first salary and buy a new phone and until that I would not even change the disfigured panel of my phone. Thus I make it a habit to check my phone often whether I had got any calls or messages. That is because, my phone takes me for granted and refuses to notify me if I either get a text or a call. It is so selfish that it sends a thunderous vibration only when the battery is low. It's got some attitude I must say.

I got one such tremor from my pocket when I was walking near the games section. But that did not seem like a 'low battery' signal. I picked my phone with a peculiar interest. As usual slipping away from the grasp of my hand, which irritates me to the hilt. With fury, I dug in again and strangled the broken screen of my phone, it had to oblige.

I cupped my hands around the dust-filled screen of my phone, in order to see the display. It was just a number. With million names and guesses in my mind, including that of god, within a fraction of a second, I picked up the phone with a bit of hesitation. Was it god ? 

"Hi, so sorry to disturb you on a Sunday afternoon", I was just wishing it was not a random corporate call. Even before I could complete that thought, "I had gone through your CV", said a well cultured feminine voice. The wrinkles on my forehead disappeared. With immense attention I just said "Oh."

I am still not able to recollect what our conversation was. She excitedly said " We are looking out for a Producer/ Reporter for the upcoming World Cup on an immediate basis." I don't remember a word after that. But all I can remember now, and will continue to the rest of my life, is the feeling I got during that conversation. My heartbeat was rising, my ears were ringing, my mind was blacking out, my eyes were watering and I don't know what else happened. That was the most 'hair-raising' phone call I've ever got in my life.  

My friend came back from her shopping spree and asked where I had disappeared. I said I was on a call. "Who was it?", she questioned. "God" I replied.

A devil's mind is an idle workshop, which seldom works

I believe in god which gives belief in myself. The conversations with him grew longer in search of empathy. It reached a secretly maddening level to an extent where I wanted to be Jim Carrey from the movie "Bruce Almighty." By February first week, without any leads, working for the world cup was a foregone conclusion. My first dream was in shambles, and I told myself that I was actually expecting too much. My next possible goal was the IPL in April. Not knowing how to be convinced with the inability to reach my B-HAG, I was nibbling away time. Probably that is why it's called the B-HAG. I was baffling my already scrambled mind with a lot of inert questions on how to land myself a job. I understand that an idle mind is a devil's workshop. But I also understood that a devil's mind is an idle workshop, which seldom works. This is the period when you feel that god is unfair only to you. Rather this is 'also' one of those periods when you feel that way.   

A.R.Rahman was a true companion

In December, my final final exams got over, hopefully the last for my life, academically. I was praying that the new year would bring in new life, just like every other year. A much needed vacation break was on the offing with my loved ones. It was a break of sorts. A break from cricket, college and reality. It was like a calm before the tsunami. Once the holiday was over, the task to find a job seemed uphill, leave alone starting a career. "Wait" was the watch word. That word weighed the most then. It kind of brings in that sinking feeling within you. You feel the earth is revolving at a faster pace than normal and you are standstill. 

A.R.Rahman was a true companion then. Listening to his oscar nominated album was an inspirational solace. A few weeks went by without notice. I was fearing that I would be dependent on the so called 'job fair', which I myself accused with disdain, in the hope that I would land myself a career in my passion, my dream, my life - Cricket. 

Desperation was not the word, but anticipation was

My semester exams were going to start. I went and met a very influential person before that. That meeting was very promising. There seemed like there was still a possibility of me realizing my dream so early. But did I think a tad too early. Yes I did. Working in a world cup as your first assignment, without any prior experience ? I must have been joking. The peer pressure was buliding up. Though my family did not say much, I knew they were as anticipatory as I was. But there was no pressure from them. Not a word did they utter, thinking it would pile up on me. Doesn't that make things worse ? It did. A couple of other leads came through, but not fruitful. Whenever anyone mentioned the word 'sports', people used to turn towards me. I too turned at people who mentioned the word 'sports.' Desperation was not the right word, but anticipation was. The word spread in all directions, that I was looking at a future in sports production. The hunt was frantic, like the Indian team in search of a fast bowler. 

Big Hairy Audacious Goal

At that moment I thought working in the World cup was a far dream. Really far. I considered it as a Big Hairy Audacious Goal (B-HAG), as said by marketing professor. I had told one of my friends, that my dream was to be part of the upcoming world cup. That comment was just treated like how anyone would react when a kid says that he wants to be a cricketer in the future, with a smirk. Disappointment did not creep into me, but satisfaction did. That smirk was a small match stick on a petrol tanker. Cinematic ? But that's exactly how I felt. But what could i do about it then ? Nothing.

I was awestruck with the elite company

The 2010 IPL was as crazy as the previous 2 editions. Thanks to a very dear friend of mine, I managed to get VIP pass for the opening ceremony. I still owe her a big one. Even my professor who game me lift till the stadium was jealous of the seats I had. I was awestruck with the elite company I was amongst. That was a high I can never forget. I got a sneak peek of how it would be sitting at the VIP lounge, having a beer and watching a cracker of T20 competition.  

That was a case of passion eclipsing ignorance

During a period, working in films was a false passion I had (I'm lying). The spark of the so called 'glamourous' world flashed by me, and I must admit that it caught on fire. But not for long, before another ball of fire struck me, called "Cricket." That was a forest fire I must say. 

Not knowing where to go, whom to meet and how to get into it, for a year I was almost blindly bragging that sports production was my future. That was a case of passion eclipsing ignorance. I couldn't believe that I was so convincing to others, that they actually thought I could make it. But that kind of impression on others mind, actually scared me. The fear of not standing upto what you have always bragged about. It's a silly cheap fear, but I had it. 

Final semester came, that fear was turning out to be a nightmare. This time it was not for anyone's expectation, but for myself and my family, who had enormous faith in me. Its the same feeling any lower order batsmen gets, when he walks into the middle with 6 overs to go and 90 runs to get with a couple of wickets in hand.

With a few high level contacts i had, I was using them as my trump cards rather blindly. Not knowing the true depth of sports production and the contacts, was a big risk I was taking. But after doing a steady research, it gave me the confidence in knowing what exactly I wanted to do.

We called ourselves '7 deadly sins'

While I was seeking answers for many questions I was searching for a word to explain my state of mind. Aahh got it, "Self imposed pressure." It used to get even worse when we 7 classmates/house mates used to sit and talk about placements and future job prospects. 6 dravidians and a strong gujju (gujurati). That one year of madness in Mumbai, was a good enough lesson, to understand human behavior from various parts of India. Atleast the south and the west. We might have not yielded much academically that year, but living together with 6 different personalities was a lesson that life taught me. We called ourselves 7 deadly sins, fancy that !

Every rupee was treated with utmost diligence. To frankly say, we were running a proper domestic unit, with a couple of my closest friends doing the duty as the Mother and father of the house. In the sense, that they were taking care of accounts, cooking, cleaning preaching, teaching & what not. The joint committee meetings were insanely funny, thanks to our juke box, Sean Rolden, who provided music, jokes, stand up and a mimicry of EA Sports' Cricket '97. Every moment of living in that house, was invaluable and beyond words to express. Experiences that I take away from that house is innumerable. It played a key part in moulding me to what I am today, with respect to my career . I miss that family very much. 

Sounds like a Super heroes' inspiration doesn't it ?

MBA started, broadcast was my elective with my small class well represented by pupil from various states, covering almost the length and breadth of India. On the first day of my second year at Mumbai, there was this usual introduction of various students happening. And every time a new professor walks in and asks what we wanted to do after MBA, I often heard fancy answers and I had one too. I said Sports production. The uniform reaction to that was "Hmmm... interesting." 

Later that night, being an addict of the channel Discovery Travel & Living (Now TLC), I watched back to back shows and felt that I wanted travel around the world, get to meet new people, get to eat the yummiest of foods from various cuisines. I don't know how and why Confucious came to my mind. All I knew with my torrid history knowledge was, that he was a traveler. So that idea hooked onto me in a weirdly fancy way and I kept telling myself that I wanted to travel and explore a lot of new things. Sounds like a Super heroes' inspiration doesn't it ? However incorrigible that may sound, I felt that.

Probably those repeated chants was a trigger for me to make a living out of watching cricket !

Cricket was always my passion. Though I wanted to make it big in front of the camera, just like my million other colleagues in India, I could not. But there was still a possibility to make my cut behind the camera. 

Cricket, often considered as a religion in India was ofcourse not part of my blood like my dear friend Aniruddha Srikkanth. But I got it transfused. Be it a ranji trophy game or a Kenya Vs Bangladesh test match, eben the camera persons at the stadium would not have watched it the way I used to watch. That  habit of mine has irritated many. I can never compromise on a cricket match. one of the usual casualties, ofcourse was my mother. How often has she scolded me " Watching cricket is not going feed you. Now go and study." Probably those repeated chants was a trigger for me to make a living out of watching cricket ! Little did I know then, that my first project would be to cover the world cup.

My family has been my strength

Not a single day have I not thought, about how important my career was to me and more importantly to my family. Everybody has difficulties in life, my family was no different. But not a moment I could feel that my family was living at the edge of a sword. My family has undoubtedly been my strength. I still remember those words that were dangling in my mind, " This education is a luxury for me." The hunger for achieving was something intolerable. After the 'dropped catch' of CA, MBA was my next opportunity to redeem myself. That was a sitter that I couldn't afford to drop like Kamran Akmal, which could have costed me dearly.

A scary thought that runs through every cricket fan

Atleast better late than never. With just over 2 weeks for the world cup to end, this might be the right time to kick start my second innings again. If you are wondering where was the first innings, it was a forgettable "Golden duck", that explains it all. It was 2 months back, when I decided to purchase an official merchandize of the world cup. I thought I could wear it for one the games at Chennai and cheer with the true spirit of a 'chennai-ite.' 

Though I started to ponder how to get tickets atleast for a single world cup game. A scary thought that runs in the mind of any cricket fan from the sub continent, especially an Indian, more specifically a 'Chennai-ite.' That thought later slipped away with a nights sleep and did not have it for long. The reason being it was the fag-end of my MBA life and I was about to hit the crossroads of life. Such a cliched line for anyone embarking into their next stage of life   

Re-incarnation of a cob-webbed hobby

It was past twilight , I was the last man walking out of the Pallekele International cricket stadium. I could see my shadow leading me out of the ground. People at a distance could see my silhouette, which would have looked like a man carrying his rifle and a sack of ammunition. With no one around, walking across the covers was though a peaceful, but not a safe walk. The song "Acid Darbari" from the album 127 hours, playing through my headphones, at the centre of my cerebrum is one of the triggers to get back to my cob-webbed hobby - Writing. 


"Often people think a lot to themselves when they are alone." I was never a believer of that concept, until 'that' walk I had from the media box to the gate of the stadium. Not often you feel this way when you are part of a media fraternity covering the world cup. The inertia was huge to start writing again, especially during a maddening schedule. I've got no one to blame apart from myself.