Of Greek alphabets and Covid-19 mutations

Raju Korti
Greek alphabets can be fun or irritation depending on whether you like or hate Mathematics and/or Physics. My personal experience with them has been partly-exciting-partly exasperating at various levels of engagement with Science. But the World Health Organization has queered the pitch by naming the Covid-19 variants after them. It makes life that much more difficult for someone like me whose education has roots in Maths and Physics.

The virus in India's second wave

The B.1.617.1 and B.1.617.2 variants of the Covid-19 that were first identified in India have been named as "Kappa" and "Delta" by the WHO in its compassionate wisdom. This compassion is not without its undercurrents. I would love to believe that the WHO, often accused as a "stooge of China", has hit upon this mode of nomenclature as the Covid-19 was, and is, believed to have originated from that country. The WHO's specious thinking lends credence by making a concession for Chinese culpability and diverting international attention with consideration for other countries. It is like being magnanimous in sharing the loot when you are caught.

The WHO has another rationale according to which this will make it easier for people across the globe to understand which variant they are grappling with. The earlier variants sounded more like an arithmetic progression that one could not make head or tail of. The Greek alphabets have come in handy but the rate at which the parent virus is mutating, I wonder what the world health body will do in the course of time when all the alphebets would have been exhausted.

It is pertinent that the WHO's brainstorm comes weeks after India voiced displeasure at the B.1.617 mutant of the novel coronavirus being termed an Indian variant. In any case giving a nationality to the virus sounded puerile and insensitive. Showing alacrity, an expert group of the UN health agency recommended use of Alpha, Beta, Gamma which would be easier and more practical to discuss by non-scientific audiences. At the moment we are looking at the Lambda variant.

On a lighter note, I see at least eight Greek alphabets that sound like Chinese names. Mu, Nu, Xi, Pi, Rho, Tau, Phi and Chi are the ones that could be discomforting to the Chinese. The third and the last are particularly embarrassing for reasons that do not need elaboration. The Covid-19 has brought the Greek alphabets from the empyrean heights to the pedestrian terra firma. From once being names of the stars in order of their brightness, they have mutated into an infinitesimal but ominous existence. The ancient Greeks known for their contributions to modern society and widely believed to be founders of philosophy have every reason to marvel at the distance their alphabets have traveled and the wide applications they have found.

How the mighty fall!

John McAfee, Julian Assange and the Snowden Effect

Raju Korti
Former National Security Agency and data privacy votary Edward Snowden surely realizes what it means to be a whistle-blower in a country that makes regulation virtue of free speech and individual liberties.

The man at the wrong end of the thirties has been America's most consequential whistle-blowers, responsible for the most significant leaks in US political history. His exiled life is an outcome of the historically unprecedented rate at which the then Obama administration prosecuted whistle-blowers. He marches on regardless, seized very well that the US administration will attempt to use all its weight to punish him. In a tweet he had lamented that "societies that demand whistle-blowers be martyrs often find themselves without either, and always, when it matters most." 

Snowden's latest pointed tweet that WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange "could be the next" after the alleged suicide of anti-virus software mogul John McAfee in a Spain jail should be understood in this context. Known for his larger-than-life personality, McAfee of the pioneer McAfee Associates, was charged with tax evasion between 2014 and 2018 having made millions from consultancy work, cryptocurrencies and selling the rights to his life story that Hollywood seemed sold out on.

Snowden should know. Whistle-blowers are sometimes seen as selfless martyrs who stand up for public interest and organizational accountability while at the other end of the spectrum some view them as traitors or defectors accusing them of pursuing personal glory and being politically motivated. Seen as civil disobedience or protection from wrongdoing, it is fraught with risks either way.

McAfee was no whistle-blower. He called himself a libertarian and was known for his anti-government stance on guns, drugs and liberty. His tweets, often cryptic and ominous suggested that he was the target of wealthy elites, including the top ranking officials in the CIA. Paranoiac probably got to him when the Spanish court decided to extradite him to the US.

The Snowden Effect" is palpable when he says that "Europe should not extradite those accused of non-violent crimes to a court system so unfair -- and prison system so cruel --that native-born defendants would rather die than become subject to it. Julian Assange could be next. Until the system is reformed, a moratorium should remain." 

Snowden's tweet is a scathing indictment of the American administration of justice. Although his apprehensions make for a valid argument, the American Constitution with its Judiciary-is-supreme tenet makes any expectation of reform a tall order -- even if it makes some sense to provide for concessions for non-criminal cases. The American Constitution is not generously flexible like the Indian Constitution and leaves next to zero scope for amendments.

McAfee was 75 but Assange is 49 and although this is no comparison, the similarities between the two cases cannot be wished away. The highest common factor among Snowden, McAfee and Assange is the US government is out to get them. Unlike McAfee, Assange won his extradition battle but he has not been bailed because he is considered a flight risk. It sounds almost prophetic that the UK court which blocked his extradition cited that Assange's was at the risk of suicide given his mental health problems. 

His prosecution in US follows WikiLeaks publication of hundreds of thousands of leaked documents relating to his country's role in Afghanistan and Iraq wars as well as diplomatic cables, a decade back. With McAfee no more on the scene, Snowden and Assange face the prospect of spending decades behind bars in their country. That eventuality, however, is anybody's guess.

As if on premonition, McAfee had tweeted a few days before his death that "All power corrupts. Take care which powers you allow a democracy to wield." Behind that tweet is the inherent lament that in a democracy you just choose the lesser evil. The supreme irony is Snowden had to find a lesser evil in Russia in his political expediency -- other ramifications aside.

Edward Snowden is an example of his own Snowden Effect.

We did not want to win, so we lost!

Raju Korti

Pic courtesy ICC/Twitter

There is a thing called intent in Sport. It is primarily and predominantly about winning a game. Since winning or losing is a part of the game, the least teams can do is to try and make a match of it. But the way India capitulated yesterday before a resurgent Kiwis, it appeared that there was neither any intention to win nor any resolve to put up even a semblance of fight.

To all those who sat through the truncated game that saw more than half the duration of match lost to inclement weather, the Indians looked so meek and forbearing that they seemed more keen on losing than the Kiwis wanting to win. The only player who looked fierce on the field was Ravichandran Ashwin who justified his selection on a patently seaming wicket that was exploited to the hilt by the New Zealanders. The other ten just seemed to be going through motions with no sense of purpose.

To me, the single most dominant factor that divided the performance of the two teams was the quality of bowling. The Kiwi bowlers swung the ball prodigiously in perfectly seaming conditions but the Indians, for all their much crowed batting line up, seemed to have relapsed into the pre-70s era when they would invariably get out flirting with outgoing deliveries. I refuse to believe that a Test playing nation that prides on being Number One in ICC ranking can be so spunkless.

I recall what the late Ajit Wadekar, elevated as India's captain in 1971 through a casting vote, had said when the Indians were touring the mighty West Indies. Asked how his batsmen would cope with the Windies' fast bowling battery, he replied, "good batsmen are not afraid of good bowlers." His side justified that confidence. Any rationale for preparing pitches that suit the home side is a lame excuse since every hosting team does it. It is all about how well you adapt to the different conditions and pitches overseas.

Jamieson, Boult, Southee and Wagner bowled to a plan and just did not allow the Indians to free their arms. From the first day (which was actually the second) the Indians looked like they had given up. After that pathetic display in the first innings, they just didn't have the guts to fight. Indian captain Virat Kohli should take a cue or two from rival skipper Kane Williamson who looked calm, poised and self-assured. The Indian captain looks grumpy and angry most of the times when the chips are down and sports wicked smiles and gesticulations when winning. It has lost on him that a leader can be assertive and level-headed in desperate situations.

Full credit to the Kiwis who missed the last World Cup by a whisker. Having endured the understated agony of losing the World Cup, they had a point to prove and they did just that. The Indians just made it easier for them. How the Kiwis rid their ghosts of the World Cup semis and finals; shrugging off the disappointment that permeated their side in destiny's sweepstakes! Remember how the same Kane Williamson glided through the blues of that dramatic superover with the customary elan that he is come to be known for. Our man just huffs and puffs in crises.

That brings me to the post-match comments that Kohli made where he indicated "he might bring in right people with right mindset to perform" in the Test side just like their white ball set-up where they have multiple players ready to shoulder responsibility at the highest level. That's a rash comment because he obviously doesn't realize its implications. Does he mean that the present team with him as the presiding deity doesn't have that right mindset? Or is he casting aspersions on the judgement of the selectors who are "supposed to select the best playing eleven"? For that matter, does he think his team members are not right? By referring to "multiple players ready to shoulder responsibility at the highest level" he is also making a mockery of India's much tom tommed bench strength of batsmen and bowlers. In his complacency and assured place in the side, he has trashed his own team members without realising that this shit will hit the fan sooner than later. The message from Kohli is loud and clear: If at all any heads have to roll in the aftermath of this wretched defeat, it won't be his. 

As an aside, in the interests of positivity, this blog deserves the picture of New Zealanders in celebration not the beaten Indians. Sporting spirit should make us applaud the Blackcaps who finally got there and deservingly so. They were led by Kane who is also Able. 

A figure of speech called "father figure"

Raju Korti
As someone who has been a "father figure" to many youngsters, I have always believed that it takes a strong man to accept somebody else's children and step up to the plate another man left on the table. The conviction probably also stems from the fact that I am not a biological parent. Being a teacher to grown up students and youngsters in my chosen profession, I know the trappings well.

It is Father's Day today and as it happens year after year, there seems to be a knock-out being played on whose dad is the best (in the world). In the tie-breaker all fathers are winners hands down. The concept that fathers are born and not made puts "father figures" like me at a permanent disadvantage. The father figure is rolled gold to a father's pure gold.

In my three decades of teaching and four decades of being a professional, I have been addressed as a father figure by many. Some of them said it formally while with some it appeared in their demeanor. But I took a backseat as they they latched on to their biological fathers whenever it came to be vocal. The "father figure" was always the unsung hero. Blood is thicker than water and tokenism has a higher brand equity. There is just an academic quotient to being a father figure.

Go to an Archie's Gallery! You won't find cards thanking father figures. Why sell duplicates when there is an original? This may sound like a harangue but the fact is "father figures" are one time passwords that become invalid upon use. Consumerism looks at sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers, not their in-law or surrogate versions. As "father figure" my only proud possessions are two scrappy "Thank You" cards. The spoken "Thank Yous" have had even shorter life. Speaks volumes about the influence of varnished fathers of whom I am a glowing example.

I have been caring, supportive, kind, helpful, generous but as a "father figure" I am just a figure of speech. As I wrote a little while ago: Fathers take away all the credits and accolades as they should. Father figures are laid by the wayside.  

The vicarious pleasure of being a one-man selection committee

Raju Korti
Selecting the best playing eleven is the most thankless job. Ask the cricket selection committee members, they will tell you they have more brickbats coming their way than bouquets. In a country where cricket is a logo for nationalism, the game becomes a strange mix of binding as well as divisive force. Just about everyone who believes he knows the game is an expert commentator and has his two cents to offer on the teams selected.

I suspect even players in the reckoning are disgruntled when they are left out of the playing eleven or for an overseas tour. Expediency keeps their mouth shut but occasionally, some do let their angst out like Mohinder Amarnath did when he called the selection committee as "bunch of jokers" after he was sidelined in 1989. Amarnath probably drew his guts following his reputation as the best player of fast bowling at his peak. That didn't change matters. Neither the selectors budged nor Amarnath had any regrets.

Since then on, selector bashing has become a norm. Farookh Engineer poked fun at the selectors calling them "Mickey Mouse Committee." In his righteous indignation, Yuvraj also called "their thinking  in terms of modern day cricket not up to the mark." The story in other playing nations is not much different. Remember Shoaib Akhtar who took a dig at the selectors saying "players in Pakistan are chosen on the basis of their connections." The relations between the players and the selection committee are forever on the tenterhooks, the prime example being the never-any-love-lost between West Indies cricket board and its players.  

If the role of the respective cricketing boards have come under constant scrutiny, a new fad has emerged in recent times where players and cricket lovers give their fantasy a fight to come out with their own All Time Eleven. It has, of course, academic interest but it nevertheless generates a fierce debate on the choices. Every now and then past greats come out with their best playing eleven of the world. Since they are subjective and based on their individual perceptions, they become contentious. The controversy makes a great cud to chew on.

Apparently made on "merit", the pitch is queered when the selections are neither subjective nor perceptive but made with patriotism in mind. Some time ago, Australia's Michael Clark's All Time Best Playing Eleven had as many as six Aussie players. Yesterday, the mercurial Shahid Afridi named five Pakistani players in his All Time Best. These have Gavaskar or a Tendulkar or a Viv Richards as apologies thrown in because it would be too much to have only one nation representing the world. If it has to be an Indian, you might find at least six to seven Indian players -- no prizes for guessing who and why. That goes for individual players as well. You just have to say that Virat is the best, and there will be people pouncing on you with the names of Babar Azam, Steve Smith, Joe Root or even Kane Williamson.  

I recall Khalid Ansari, the Editor of Sportsweek while taking a jibe at the national selectors told me "the selection committee is not happy until ten players are from (then) Bombay and the eleventh is Venkataraghavan. Regionalism, nationalism make short work of merit when you known state associations pitch for their own players in the side on the pretext of quota. Dissensions and bickering are to be expected when the team becomes a collection of assorted players who are in the team more because of the state they belong to than to the country.

One must give it to those who opt to become selectors for all the flak they get all the time. People engaged with the game studiously keep away from the hot seat to avoid criticism that is anyhow inevitable. Who wants to be at the receiving end of public criticism? Besides, keeping away from the hot seat gives them the licence to criticize at will. It is easy to make selections without being an official selector. So pick your players and announce them. They will question your judgement but you will be spared of the joker tag not discounting the vicarious pleasure of ruffling feathers for fun. 

By the way, I have been exercising my brains since yesterday over my World's Best All Time Eleven. It is likely that at the end of the names, I may have to write Jai Hind!      

Memories of an encounter with Javed Miandad

Raju Korti
Yesterday was Javed Miandad's birthday. There is, of course, little to write about the man as his exploits on and off the field are well documented to bear any repetition but the temptation to revisit this man, barely two months older than me, stirred some memories that stem from my meeting with him in 1983-84 when the Pakistanis had come to India. At the peak of his cricketing career, just a year earlier, he had made life miserable for the Indians in that epic 451 run partnership with Mudassar Nazar in Hyderabad (Sindh).

Into my fifth year as a professional journalist, I remember nursing an intense desire to become a sports writer then. Javed Miandad had been on my radar for reasons more than the one I just mentioned. Among them was the way he stood, chin drawn forward, to confront Denniss Lillee in what appeared to be a certain physical fight since both were abrasive cricketers. That did not happen as saner counsel prevailed, but it would have been interesting to see how Javed would have stood up to the stronger Lillee.

From the very day he stepped on to the crease first he had made it clear with his demeanor and body language that he was self-styled and would not be dictated by anybody including the captains he played under; with the possible exception of Imran. But I suspect, Imran, self-styled himself, was wary of Javed's ways. Javed was never the one to take anybody's instructions and if you look at the cold war between them post their retirement, the maverick cricketer must have really restrained himself from over-riding his World Cup winning captain.

My two meetings with him during the 1983-84 series vindicated my view that Javed made for an interesting case study as a person that so seamlessly merged in the cricketer within him. Vedam Jaishankar, who covered cricket for Indian Express during my time wrote a scathing piece in "firstpost" that "Imran the captain was a megalomaniac who ran Pakistan team as his fiefdom. He believed he could rewrite the rules to suit the moment. He had scant regard for tournament rules, opponents, television channels, or even his own cricketing Board. He was a law unto himself, at least where Pakistan cricket was concerned. While he cultivated an apparently aloof image for himself, he strategically let loose the perky and extremely obnoxious Javed (Miandad) to get under the opponents' skin and unsettle them." 

The only difference was Imran carried the charisma of his Oxford background -- for whatever its worth -- while Javed was crude. You could call him the tenth xerox of Imran Khan. In the face, annoying and ever ready to rub people the wrong way! However, like Imran, he reveled in holding Indians in disdain despite all the adulation both got in India. While the media and spectators viewed them as ace sportsmen, the two derived sadistic pleasure in running down Indians. Imran never made a secret of his  rabid hatred of the Indians but Javed, I believed, did it just to needle the opponents and spectators.  The Pakistani team had many heavyweights and almost every player acted like a parallel captain. Little wonder, many players revolted against Javed's aristocratic functioning that consequently catapulted Imran to the captaincy. Materially, it did not matter as the only difference between them was one appeared sophisticated and the other couldn't care less if he was being crass.    

Javed loved the attention he got in India because of his theatrics and he got away with most of them. I was not sure how he would respond to my questions given the dubious reputation he had made for himself, but the man, off field, was another revelation. As soon as he saw me, he had that customary smirk on his face which, if you thought otherwise, also looked partly like a genuine smile. I had been tipped off by a senior cricket writer that the Pakistanis loved to be addressed as "mia" or "bhai." He was thrilled to bits being called as Javedmia or Javedbhai.

To ease the stiffness of the first meeting, I began the conversation by saying I was born in the same year (1957) as he was with him being just two months older. That worked. He immediately put a friendly arm around me and replied with his characteristic bluster that "1957 had a history attached to it. I was born that year. You will become famous too." I laughed at that cosmetic observation because as of today, he still corners attention and controversies and me nowhere close to courting history of any kind.

Javed didn't have much to speak about Indian cricketers but he was certainly in the awe of Sunil Gavaskar whom he kept calling as Govaskar. His broken English and carelessly cobbled words did not in the least make him conscious. He made no bones that he loved rattling and unsettling rivals, the pick of whom were Indians. He recalled how "this guy Dilip Doshi was quiet and concentrated on his line and length but I upset him by my banter. It even tickled Govaskar."

"What is with you that you appeal for a leg before decision from extra covers or deep fine leg?" He burst out laughing. "You can never under-estimate the potential of a chorus appeal in high-tension matches, especially against India. Forget being on the ground, I wouldn't have hesitated to appeal for LBWs even I am in the players' dug out. The idea is to pull out all the stops. Everything is fair in cricket against India because it is no less a war. For most people, cricket is a sport but for me, its a bigger deal. I am on the field for a mission. As far as I am concerned, cricket is a war and I am at war when playing." He later put this in black and white in his autobiography "Cutting Edge My Autobiography" where he describes his encounters against India in a chapter 'Wars Against India.'

Discretion never on his mind, Javed wasn't bothered if he did not make sense. Obviously, he lacked -- and still lacks --the polish that comes from education. His comments on Kashmir, on a different trajectory, vis a vis PM Imran shows he continues to be prone to needless bluster. My interaction revealed the street fighter that he was and his chirpy behaviour showed he not only fought with the bat, he wouldn't blink before throwing his verbal volleys.

I am least surprised he has married his son off to India's most wanted fugitive Dawood Ibrahim's daughter. Knowing him you can perfectly believe that the one thought in his head in forging this alliance was to cock a snook at the Indians. It is so patently Javedian. And to think of it, Dawood was very much in Mumbai moving into the bigger netherworld of crime when Javed played against India at the Wankhede stadium. Dawood fled to Dubai in 1986, the same year Javed broke Indian hearts with that last ball six off Chetan Sharma. May be their alliance was destined.