Ravi Ashwin: The unjust denial of an exemplary career!

Raju Korti
Unlike some of his contemporaries who appear to believe that cricket is played more with brawns, Ravichandran Ashwin is a cerebral cricketer. His cricketing journey will go down in the cricketing annals as an extraordinary tale of talent, resilience, and unfulfilled potential. With 537 Test wickets, an astonishing economy rate, and a batting average that consistently outshines some top-order batsmen, Ashwin’s contributions to Indian cricket cannot be overstated. Yet, despite his stellar performances, he has been persistently sidelined, overlooked, and denied the respect and recognition he deserves -- both in terms of selection and leadership opportunities. His sudden and somewhat baffling decision to retire in the midst of the ongoing Border-Gavaskar Trophy, raises questions about the treatment of one of India’s most prolific cricketers. 

Ashwin’s career is a testament to consistency. Not only has he been a match-winner with the ball, but his performances as a batsman, particularly as a lower-order enforcer, are also remarkable. He averages 25.8 with the bat and 23.9 with the ball over 106 Tests - numbers that place him in the rarefied company of all-time greats like Jacques Kallis and Shane Warne. Yet, Ashwin has found himself regularly dropped from the playing XI on overseas tours, with notable exclusions in countries like England, despite his proven track record in subcontinental conditions.

One glaring example is his exclusion during India's 2021 tour of England. While Ashwin boasts a solid bowling average of 28 in England, he was omitted from the playing XI in the Test series. Meanwhile, Ravi Jadeja, who averages 43.5 with the ball in England, continued to feature in the lineup without question. Ashwin’s exclusion had nothing to do with form - his performances in India and abroad had been consistently impressive -- but rather a matter of bias, mismanagement, and, perhaps, a lack of faith in his ability. If the team's management trusted Ashwin in all conditions, the question arises: Why wasn’t he given the chance when India was most in need of him?

For those who question Ashwin’s place in the pantheon of cricketing greats, one only needs to look at his ability to influence Test series outcomes. By January 2017, Ashwin was already recognised as the highest impact Test cricketer of all time, having won 7 Man of the Series awards in just 14 series. This statistic alone -- which dwarfs the achievements of other greats like Wasim Akram, Shane Warne, and Muttiah Muralitharan -- cements his status as one of the most impactful cricketers to have played the game. 

But impact in cricket is not just about numbers. It’s about altering the course of a series. Ashwin’s performances in crucial moments, both with the ball and the bat, have often turned matches in India’s favour. In fact, during the memorable 2020-21 Border-Gavaskar Trophy, it was Ashwin’s 5-wicket haul in Melbourne that kept India’s hopes alive when the team was reeling. It is this ability to make a difference when it matters most that defines Ashwin as one of the greatest match-winners in cricket history. 

While Ashwin’s on-field contributions are undeniable, his treatment off the field raises further questions about the culture within Indian cricket. Ashwin, a seasoned campaigner, has often been denied leadership opportunities. Despite his vast experience, he was never even considered for the vice-captaincy, a position that many felt would have been ideal for someone with his tactical acumen, composure, and understanding of the game. 

Former cricketer Sunil Gavaskar has rightly expressed his disappointment over Ashwin not being recognised for his leadership skills. “Ashwin would have made a fine captain for India,” Gavaskar remarked, adding that the BCCI and the selection committee failed to acknowledge his leadership potential. In a team that has seen frequent leadership changes and the elevation of players with far fewer credentials, Ashwin’s leadership credentials have been unjustly overlooked. 

The announcement of Ashwin’s retirement during the ongoing Border-Gavaskar Trophy is more than just a personal decision; it is a reflection of the discontent that has brewed over years of unfair treatment. The timing of his retirement is telling. He would have been a key figure in the ongoing series, in Sydney particularly, given the conditions which have historically been conducive to his style of bowling. 

Ashwin’s sudden exit is not just about the personal frustration of a player; it is an indictment of the broader system. How can a cricketer of his calibre be left out of crucial matches, treated with disdain, and never given the respect he deserves? When you contrast his exclusion with the continuous selection of players like Virat Kohli, whose performances in recent years have been inconsistent at best, it becomes clear that something is amiss. Kohli, despite a batting average of 32 in the last five years, continued to receive selections without scrutiny, while Ashwin — with a bowling average of 20.89 and batting average of 21.09 — found himself relegated to the bench. 

It is tragic that Ashwin’s departure from international cricket has not been marked by the celebrations it rightfully deserves. A player of his stature, who has had such an indelible impact on Indian cricket, deserved a farewell match, a tribute befitting his status, and an acknowledgment of his contribution to Indian cricket’s success over the years. Yet, what he received instead was indifference and neglect.

Ravichandran Ashwin’s career, though still ongoing, has been marred by consistent underappreciation. He has been denied the platform to lead, the space to express his full potential, and the recognition that other cricketers, regardless of form, have enjoyed. In a country that reveres its cricketing heroes, Ashwin’s journey stands as a tragic reminder of how a legend can be overlooked, even as his records and performances continue to speak volumes. 

As Ashwin walks away from the game -- perhaps earlier than he should have -- Indian cricket has lost not only a match-winner but a leader, a thinker, and one of its greatest servants. This is a loss that should haunt Indian cricket for years to come. It’s high time that Ashwin’s contributions were recognised not just as a cricketer, but as a leader, a tactician, and a national treasure. And if there is one thing his retirement has done, it’s to highlight the glaring failures of the system that failed him. 

All work and no recreation make for dud employees

Raju Korti
In today's fast-paced world, where cut-throatism is the order of the day, the concept of work-life balance has become more critical than ever. A healthy work-life balance ensures not only the physical and mental well-being of employees but also enhances productivity and job satisfaction. The idea is to create a harmonious blend where work does not overshadow personal life, allowing individuals to recharge and bring their best selves to both their professional and personal endeavours.  

The ongoing debate about India's work culture, particularly the suggested 70-hour work-week, has been reignited by two prominent figures from Shark Tank India. Their heated exchange on the subject with diametrically opposite perceptions has caught the attention of many, further fuelling the conversation about work-life balance and productivity in India.

One perspective suggests that focusing on the number of hours worked is misleading and emphasizes the importance of dedication and effort rather than merely tracking time. This viewpoint highlights that extraordinary achievements come from a strong work ethic and the willingness to put in the necessary effort, rather than simply counting hours. The success of hybrid work models, which have reportedly increased productivity by 30%, is cited as evidence that work-life "harmony" is more effective than rigidly sticking to fixed hours.

On the other hand, another perspective strongly disagrees, arguing that the situation for founders and regular employees is vastly different. Founders, who have significant financial stakes in their businesses, might be more willing to put in long hours, but this is not feasible for regular employees. It is pointed out that while founders and high stakeholders may afford to work around the clock due to their financial gains, regular employees do not share the same financial benefits. The idea of long work hours being a norm for employees is criticized, particularly due to the severe physical and mental health consequences that can result from such pressure. I am inclined towards this view.

Concrete examples support this viewpoint, emphasizing the different realities for founders and employees. For instance, a company's valuation and the stakes owned by founders may justify their long working hours, but this rationale does not apply to regular employees such as accountants, who do not share the same financial upside. This perspective argues for a balanced work schedule to ensure overall well-being, warning that excessive work hours can lead to serious physical and mental health issues.

The debate traces back to controversial comments about India's work productivity by Infosys founder Narayan Murthy, where he suggested that to improve productivity and compete globally, India’s youth should commit to working extra hours, reminiscent of post-war efforts in countries like Japan and Germany. This suggestion to return to a 6-day workweek and extend work hours sparked nationwide discussions.

Both perspectives agree that the work culture in India needs to evolve, but their approaches differ significantly. One side advocates for reasonable work limits for employees, emphasizing their overall well-being, while the other believes that extraordinary achievements come from dedication and extra effort, not just clocking in long hours.

While the drive and dedication to achieve extraordinary goals are commendable, the importance of a balanced work schedule cannot be overstated. Employees' well-being is paramount, and a balanced approach is necessary to maintain physical and mental health, ensuring sustained productivity and job satisfaction. The argument for reasonable work hours, particularly for regular employees, resonates with the broader need for a healthier work culture that prioritizes overall well-being.

I can say with conviction that my view will remain unchanged even if I become a founder-owner of some outfit, the chances of which are next to nil. 

Uddhav: At political crossroad and the risk of irrelevance

Raju Korti
Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena (UBT) finds itself at a precarious crossroads, teetering between ideological confusion and political isolation ahead of the crucial Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) polls, expected in mid-2025. Guided by confidante Sanjay Raut, Uddhav’s departure from Bal Thackeray’s core Hindutva ideology to align with the Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA) was seen as both a strategic and ideological gamble. While this alliance propped him up as Maharashtra’s Chief Minister in 2019, the subsequent electoral drubbing and the party’s internal rebellion have pushed Uddhav into an existential battle to retain relevance. 

A symbolic visual generated through AI

The recent setbacks – most notably in the 2024 Maharashtra assembly polls, where Eknath Shinde’s faction reaffirmed its dominance – have forced the Uddhav-led Sena to perform an ideological U-turn. After distancing itself from Hindutva for the sake of its MVA alliance, the party is now attempting to reclaim its lost voter base by invoking its old, aggressive Hindutva stance. Symbolic moves, such as Aditya Thackeray’s ‘maha aarti’ at the Hanuman Temple in Dadar and public criticism of atrocities on Hindus in Bangladesh, underscore this tactical pivot. 

Milind Narvekar’s provocative post referencing the 1992 Babri Masjid demolition and Bal Thackeray’s infamous quote (“I am proud of those who did it”) further signals a shift back to the Sena’s foundational ideology. However, this abrupt reversion to Hindutva has alienated key allies. The Samajwadi Party’s withdrawal from the MVA, citing discomfort with the Sena’s stance, reflects the deep fault lines within the alliance. 

Uddhav Thackeray’s political maneuvering now risks leaving him isolated on all fronts. The BJP, which once considered the undivided Shiv Sena its “natural ally,” remains unforgiving of Uddhav’s betrayal in 2019. His relentless attacks on the BJP since breaking away have ensured that any reconciliation remains improbable. BJP leaders continue to lampoon him as a “non-performing CM” who rarely stepped out during COVID-19, communicating instead through Facebook. This enduring image, combined with his policy somersaults, makes Uddhav politically toxic for the BJP. 

Within the MVA, the cracks are deepening. Sharad Pawar’s NCP faction is likely wary of Uddhav’s renewed Hindutva rhetoric, which risks alienating the Muslim vote bank crucial for the alliance. The Congress, too, may find it difficult to justify its alignment with a party seemingly resurrecting its old communal agenda. Uddhav’s pivot back to Hindutva, therefore, puts the entire alliance in jeopardy. 

The ideological confusion within Uddhav’s camp is not new. Discontent among Shiv Sena leaders has simmered since 2019, when Uddhav allied with the Congress and NCP. Many senior leaders and cadres remained uneasy with the shift, given the Shiv Sena’s long-standing Hindutva ethos. The subsequent rebellion led by Eknath Shinde in 2022, where 41 of 63 MLAs defected, reflected the deep ideological divide within the party. 

The November 2024 assembly election results further exposed the erosion of Uddhav’s core voter base. In Mumbai, his stronghold, the party won only 10 of the 24 seats it contested. Even in traditional bastions like Worli, held by Aditya Thackeray, the leads were marginal. The BJP’s accusation that the Uddhav faction relied on minority votes has struck a chord with disillusioned Sena loyalists. Recognizing this vulnerability, Uddhav’s shift back to Hindutva appears to be an attempt to consolidate his base ahead of the BMC elections. 

The BMC elections are critical for Uddhav Thackeray’s political survival. The undivided Shiv Sena controlled Mumbai’s cash-rich civic body for 25 years, and losing control in 2022 was a significant blow. In 2017, the Shiv Sena and BJP were neck-and-neck, with 84 and 82 seats, respectively. Since the split, the BJP has emerged stronger in Mumbai, while Uddhav’s faction has struggled to retain its traditional support. 

The Sena’s move back to Hindutva is a calculated gamble to regain lost ground in Mumbai, where it won four of six Lok Sabha seats earlier this year. However, its underwhelming performance in assembly segments within these constituencies highlights a shrinking support base. The party’s reliance on minority votes in certain wards, coupled with its ambiguous stance on issues like the Uniform Civil Code, has alienated both its core supporters and its allies. 

Uddhav Thackeray’s current predicament is the result of his failure to balance ideological coherence with political pragmatism. By abandoning its secular stance, the Shiv Sena (UBT) risks further fragmenting the MVA while failing to outflank the BJP on the Hindutva front. For the BJP, which has successfully claimed the Hindutva mantle, Uddhav’s attempts to return to his roots are seen as both opportunistic and inadequate. 

The Shiv Sena’s historical strength lay in its ability to blend regional pride with Hindutva. However, Uddhav’s zigzagging between secularism and Hindutva has eroded the party’s identity. The risk now is that Uddhav Thackeray may find himself reduced to a political persona non grata -- isolated from the MVA, rejected by the BJP, and distrusted by his own cadres. 

With the BMC polls looming, Uddhav faces an uphill battle to regain credibility and relevance. The Shiv Sena (UBT) must reconcile its ideological contradictions and rebuild its base from scratch. Failure to do so may leave Uddhav Thackeray neither here nor there -- a leader without a party, an ideology, or a political home.

Bashar Assad with Syria as the dark theater!

Raju Korti
Dictators have always intrigued me as a subject for writing, and Bashar al-Assad, one in the long line of such crackpots, offers a compelling case. Their peculiar mix of charisma and cruelty, their rule etched in bold strokes of despotism, eccentric whims, and bizarre idiosyncrasies, create an irresistible narrative. They stride across the world stage like actors in a gripping tragedy, their vivid personas concealing the dark shadows they cast. Each one is a study in the corrupting allure of absolute power, showing how it distorts the human psyche into something both fearsome and strangely captivating.

Bashar al-Assad: Suited and booted!

I recall while on duty, an old Reuters story quoting Bashar al-Assad, defiant as ever, claiming he wouldn’t share the fate of Muammar Gaddafi or Hosni Mubarak. It was, of course, a bold claim. Like a moth declaring itself flame-proof. It drives me to review this trio -- Mubarak, Gaddafi, and Assad -- through the cracked lens of history.

Mubarak, Egypt's perennial patriarch, ruled for 30 years, presiding over a regime that mixed repression with an occasional nod to democracy, like a chef garnishing stale soup. But when the Arab Spring rolled through, his grip loosened. His people toppled him, and the once-mighty Pharaoh found himself behind bars, exchanging his throne for a prison cot.

Gaddafi, meanwhile, was Libya’s self-styled revolutionary King of Kings, reigning with a mix of absurdity and terror. I particularly recall his swag, flanked by two gun-toting lady bodyguards as also his theatrical speeches. But his eccentricities masked brutality, and his end came in a culvert, captured and killed by those he once ruled with an iron fist. And then there's Assad, the reluctant eye doctor turned dictator.

Unlike his counterparts, Assad clung on, his power supported by allies who viewed geopolitics as chess and Syrians as pawns. Assad turned Syria into a dystopian spectacle, proving that sometimes history isn’t just a cycle but a slow, grinding spiral. The fate of these leaders -- whether jail, death, or dogged survival -- reads like entries in dark humour. They follow a pattern: rise to power, suppress dissent, rule like gods, and then tumble spectacularly.

Stalin, the original paranoia czar, ended up felled not by revolt but by a cerebral hemorrhage. He left behind a legacy of purges and purgatory. Idi Amin, Uganda’s mercurial tyrant, fled to Saudi Arabia, living out his days in strange comfort -- a man whose culinary tastes reportedly included his enemies. Ceaușescu of Romania? He was yanked from his palace and promptly executed; his god-like self-image shattered by a firing squad.

Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge leader responsible for one of the 20th century's most horrifying genocides, deserves a prominent (and infamous) spot in the Dictator's Almanac. Here's how we can integrate him into the satirical yet sobering narrative: Dictators may vary in their methods, but their outcomes rhyme like a tragic poem. Some, however, go above and beyond in their pursuit of infamy. The architect of Cambodia's "Year Zero," stands out for his macabre zeal in turning his country into a patent nightmare.

Pol Pot decided that education, intellect, and even wearing glasses were marks of treason against his agrarian utopia. He emptied cities, forced millions into labour camps, and turned the Cambodian countryside into a killing field. His vision for a "pure" society was so extreme that it made Orwell’s 1984 look like a sunny utopia. But how did his story end? Did he fall in a blaze of justice? Not quite.

After orchestrating the deaths of nearly a quarter of Cambodia's population, he lived out his final days in a jungle hut, betrayed by his own comrades, and reportedly dying of a heart attack. His reign, like his life, fizzled out -- not with the dramatic justice the world might have hoped for but with the quiet indignity of irrelevance. Pol Pot underscores the absurdity and tragedy of dictators who attempt to re-engineer society at the cost of millions of lives, often succumbing to their own paranoia or the inertia of their decrepit systems.

These leaders are stark reminders that history’s gravest horrors often come not from outright villains in capes but from misguided zealots with unchecked power. Yet dictators share more than just ignominious ends. They exhibit an uncanny ability to persist long past their expiry dates, fuelled by cults of personality and the wilful blindness of their enablers. Whether it’s Mubarak’s pseudo-democracy, Gaddafi’s "people’s socialism," or Assad’s "anti-terrorism" crusade, they frame oppression as salvation.  They believe they’re immune to history, forgetting that every dictator's shelf life is finite. As the world spins, new candidates join the hall of tyrants. North Korea’s Kim dynasty, Turkmenistan’s Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedow (and his love for golden statues), or Myanmar’s junta -- all continue the ancient tradition of megalomania.

Dictators are like recurring characters in the sitcom of geopolitics -- each one with their peculiarities, yet all bound by the same script: “Rise. Reign. Fall.” Assad might believe he can defy this arc, but history is undefeated. The moral of the story? Whether in jail cells, culverts, or gilded exile, despots always meet their epilogues. The world just waits, popcorn in hand, for the next act.

Revolutions without ruin: Can't change come without (self) destruction?

Raju Korti
The world has watched with bated breath as nations crumble under the weight of uprisings, the streets soaked in blood and the skies blackened by the smoke of destruction. In recent years, the contexts of Bangladesh and Syria have again reminded us of the steep price that uprisings demand. Why must revolutions always tread a path strewn with death and devastation? Can the voices of change not echo in harmony, rather than through the thunder of artillery and the cries of despair?

An AI-generated image of the Syrian uprising.

In Syria, what began as a demand for dignity and democratic rights spiraled into a decade-long civil war. Entire cities like Aleppo and Homs were reduced to rubble, their histories erased in a haze of bombs and bullets. The price? Over 500,000 lives lost, millions displaced, and a nation now grappling with the insurmountable task of rebuilding not just its infrastructure but also the fractured spirit of its people.

Similarly, in Bangladesh, recent protests for fair wages and humane working conditions among garment workers turned violent, leaving behind a trail of scorched factories, shattered livelihoods, and grieving families. It begs the question: could these calls for justice have been answered differently?

Go back into the past and take a look at the French Revolution for instance. While it ultimately led to the establishment of a republic and the end of feudalism, it was marked by a reign of terror, where thousands were executed, and the country was plunged into an unprecedented chaos. The physical and emotional scars left by this period took generations to heal.

History offers rare but inspiring examples of transitions achieved without massive loss of life or property. The fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 is one such instance. East Germans, driven by a desire for freedom, peacefully dismantled decades of division with their bare hands. Their chants for unity and democracy triumphed without a shot fired.

Similarly, in South Africa, Nelson Mandela and F.W. de Klerk led a peaceful transition from apartheid to democracy. Their negotiations and reconciliation efforts averted what could have been a catastrophic civil war. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission, though painful, allowed the nation to confront its dark past without letting it engulf the future in flames.

The Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia is a striking example of a relatively peaceful transition of power. In 1989, a series of non-violent protests led to the end of Communist rule in the country. The lack of widespread violence, allowed for a smoother transition and a quicker path to rebuilding and reconciliation. The key lies in the approach. Movements like those led by Martin Luther King Jr in the US and MK Gandhi in India have shown that it is possible to achieve significant change without resorting to violence and retaliation. 

These examples stand in stark contrast to more recent, tragic uprisings. They show that with visionary leadership, open dialogue, and collective will, nations can steer toward change without destruction.

The aftermath of violent uprisings lingers for decades. Rebuilding Aleppo’s souqs or the garment factories of Dhaka will take years, but the scars in the hearts of survivors may never heal. Children who have grown up in refugee camps or amid ruins lose not just their childhood but often their faith in humanity. Entire generations bear the burden of wars they never chose to fight.

Even when a cause is just, the destruction of lives and heritage begs the question: Is there truly victory in devastation?

For peaceful revolutions to succeed, a nation needs leaders with the courage to listen, even to dissenting voices. The people must recognize their power not just to topple regimes but to build bridges. International communities, too, play a crucial role—offering mediation and support rather than fueling conflicts.

As the dust settles over the ravaged cities of Syria and the ashes of burned factories in Bangladesh, let us reflect on what could have been. Let these tragedies serve as solemn reminders that uprisings born of justice should not pave their path with destruction.

Rebuilding a nation ravaged by conflict is an arduous task. The loss of property and lives leaves deep wounds that are difficult to heal. But by learning from history (which we rarely do!), we can hope for a future where uprisings do not have to be synonymous with destruction and bloodshed. The path to peace is challenging, but it is not impossible. I may sound utopian but the human spirit which banks on violence and destruction can also draw from courage and patience, which we are always short of in times of pelf and greed.  

True revolutions do not merely overthrow; they uplift. They rebuild. And above all, they do no harm. 

A Test Match with a shorter version mindset? No way!

Raju Korti
The just-concluded second BGT Test at Adelaide, ending in a three-day rout, should once again reignite the debate on whether Test cricket should be reduced to four days. The growing trend of shorter Test matches in the last many years, has led some to question the viability of the five-day format in today’s era of aggressive cricket. However, as a purist and a firm believer in Test cricket’s endurance-based charm, I argue that cutting down its duration would compromise the essence of the format.

Pic representational

The statistics paint a compelling picture. The frequency of Tests finishing early has risen significantly. In the last five years alone, 37 matches ended in three days, 71 in four days, and only a third stretched to the fifth day. Faster scoring rates, evolving player mindsets due to shorter formats, and increasingly bowler-friendly conditions have contributed to this shift. As a result, only extraordinary circumstances -- like pitches offering nothing to bowlers or significant weather interruptions -- allow matches to extend to a fifth day.

Supporters of four-day Tests often cite financial and scheduling benefits. Economically weaker cricket boards struggle to sustain the costs of an under-attended fifth day. Matches finishing early also lead to logistical headaches, as seen in the India-Afghanistan Test, where ticket refunds became necessary. Moreover, reducing the duration could tighten cricket’s packed calendar, making room for additional matches or giving players more recovery time. On paper, a four-day format could inject a sense of urgency, forcing teams to adopt riskier, more aggressive strategies. The promise of more decisive results might attract modern-day spectators, accustomed to the fast-paced thrills of T20 cricket. Yet, this very aggression undermines the beauty of Test cricket. Unlike its shorter counterparts, the charm of a Test lies in its ability to test endurance, adaptability, and patience. 

The format is not just about winning or losing; it’s about the journey -- the ebbs and flows, the resilience shown over five gruelling days, and the psychological battles fought session by session. Reducing the format to four days could have unintended consequences. Rain interruptions or slow over rates would push more games into drawn territory. Teams might prioritize quick, risk-heavy cricket, sacrificing the tactical depth that defines Test matches. A batter carrying their bat through the innings, or a bowler crafting a spell with meticulous precision over multiple sessions, would become rare feats. 

The argument for shorter Tests also overlooks a critical point: the issue isn’t the format but the pitches, scheduling, and player preparedness. Instead of altering the duration, governing bodies should focus on curating balanced pitches, ensuring adequate rest between series, and promoting the traditional values of Test cricket alongside its modern demands.

Cricket’s essence lies in its diversity of formats. Tests are its crown jewel, embodying endurance and strategy, while ODIs and T20s cater to instant gratification. Diluting the uniqueness of Tests by shaving off a day risks alienating its loyal fan base and diluting its identity. The debate over four versus five days isn’t just about numbers; it’s about what we value in the sport. 

While there’s no denying the evolving landscape of cricket, Test matches must retain their identity. The solution lies not in truncating the format but in addressing the broader structural issues that have led to shorter games. Let’s preserve the soul of Test cricket -- the format that separates cricket from every other sport.

Pink ball: Adaptability will be an issue!

Raju Korti
The pink ball has brought a fresh dimension to Test cricket, introducing day-night fixtures into a format traditionally played under sunlight. However, as India struggles after being bowled out for 180 on the opening day of the second Border-Gavaskar Trophy Test at Adelaide Oval, the question looms: are Indians bogged down by the unique challenges posed by the pink ball, particularly at a venue where Australia has never lost a day-night Test?

Test cricket's tradition of red balls and whites in daylight contrasts sharply with the vibrant world of limited-overs cricket, which uses white balls under floodlights. Enter the pink ball, designed to meet the visibility demands of day-night Test matches. Unlike the red ball, the pink ball offers better visibility under lights, and its seam presents distinct challenges to batsmen and bowlers alike. The sight screen colours—black for white balls and white for red and pink—underscore the game's reliance on contrast for precision.

The pink ball’s fluorescent coating ensures it remains visible under floodlights, addressing the issue of the white ball discolouring after 35 overs. Anecdotal evidence suggests the pink ball swings more under lights, benefitting fast-medium bowlers. Spinners also thrive as batsmen struggle to pick up the seam, complicating shot selection. The pink ball is harder to spot when coming flat off the bat, leading to potential fielding errors, especially square of the wicket.

India’s track record in pink-ball Tests is commendable, with three wins in four games. However, their sole loss, a heavy defeat at Adelaide in 2020, raises concerns about their adaptability under these unique conditions. Australia, by contrast, has made Adelaide Oval a fortress in day-night Tests, winning all seven matches played here since the format's inception. As I write this blog, that remains unchanged, unless the side resurrects itself the way it did in Perth defying all odds.

At Adelaide, the twilight session often turns into a graveyard shift for batsmen. The pink ball’s enhanced movement under lights poses a stiff challenge, as India experienced during their dramatic 36 all-out collapse in 2020. Captains like Steve Smith and Brendon McCullum have employed innovative tactics in day-night Tests, such as early declarations to allow their seamers to exploit the twilight advantage with a new ball.

The early overs with a new pink ball prove critical. As the ball ages, it becomes harder to spot and loses its effectiveness, testing bowlers' endurance and adaptability. Unlike Australia, India has limited exposure to the pink ball, especially overseas. The team will need to adjust quickly to Adelaide’s pitch, known for being a batting paradise during daylight but a bowler's ally at night.

Please also watch out for potential lapses in the field, particularly square of the wicket. Tactical innovations may also play a role, especially in managing twilight sessions. India's chances hinge on mitigating the pink ball’s challenges. Their batting unit caved in before they could counter Australia’s formidable seam attack during the night sessions. Moreover, fielding discipline and sharpness could make or break their game, given the visibility issues unique to the pink ball.

Adelaide’s history suggests a steep uphill battle, but India's recent success in day-night Tests offers hope. If they can leverage their experience and adapt to the conditions quickly, they may yet turn the tide in the Border-Gavaskar Trophy’s second Test.

The pink ball is not just a cricketing tool but a strategic disruptor, challenging conventions in Test cricket. For India, overcoming the psychological and physical hurdles it presents, especially in Australia’s fortress at Adelaide Oval, is paramount. Whether the team can rise to the occasion or falter under the floodlights remains to be seen -- but either way, this match is poised to be a thrilling spectacle of adaptation and strategy.

Of banana tales and insured balls! Going bonkers for a price!

Raju Korti
People spend money on the most unimaginable things -- things that lesser mortals like me wouldn't be uncapable of even thinking of. Forget dreaming about them; I'd have to Google what half of them are! Sure, we have all heard of luxury real estate, high-end vacations and a car collection that could double as a Formula 1 line up. But nothing prepares you for the absurdities that redefine human creativity  when paired with bottomless wallets.

Let's start with water. For you and me (if you are one of me), its either straight from the tap (boiled for safety because we are sensible) or a bottle we grumble about at Rs 20. Enter Virat Kohli, a man so fit he probably does pushups to pass time between overs. Kohli's water? A pristine French spring sends him "Evian", costing a cool Rs 4000 a litre. You heard it right! His hydration probably costs more than your monthly grocery bill. I wonder if his sweat could sell as a boutique syrup.

And then there is Justin Sun, a cryptocurrency entrepreneur who bought conceptual art titled "Comedian". What's this masterpiece, you may ask? A banana duct-taped to a wall. Cost: A mere (!) $9.5 million. Taste? "Much better than regular bananas", he said, as he peeled and ate it in the vacationsque Hong Kong. It wasn't a snack -- it was performance art, you stupid! For the patently uninitiated life of me, who has eaten bananas as an after-meal fruit, it is now a nature's designer I fight shy of buying. Never mind, if it costs just Rs 50 a dozen. If money makes the mare go, it does the same to asses as well.

Speaking of "investment", I read media mogul Nick Cannon decided to insure his family jewels. A cool $10 million, just in case. According to him, "it's my most valuable asset". Makes you wonder if his insurance agent had to sit through that pitch without choking on his coffee. Meanwhile, rapper Lil Uzi Vert opted for a pink diamond worth $30 million embedded in his forehead. The crowd at his show reportedly tried to rip it out of his head. The diamond's fate? It now rests in peace -- and obscurity -- much like common sense. Little wonder, Nick's Cannon is much the loser, like a modern-day Ashwatthama.

Even historical figures make the meritorious cut. Take Imelda Marcos, former First Lady of the Philippines, who had so may shoes that Cinderella's fairy godmother would have quit. I mean, even if she wore a different pair every day, she would need several lifetimes to strut them all. I recall as a night sub on duty, this among the main story of how she and and her husband held the Guinness World Record for the "greatest robbery of a government", putting Suharto of neighbourhood Indonesia at a poor second. I wonder what happened to all those footwear and on whose feet they chose to finally erode.

The instances are legion. Film-maker Anurag Kashyap recently spilled Bollywood's budgetary tea. A chef charging Rs 2 lakh a day to cater to an actor's whims? Another star shooting off a driver three hours away for a burger? All I can imagine is if the director even whispered "budget cut" in a film studio, there would be mass fainting. And then, there is the ultimate splurge: Celebrities buying houses and cars like there's no tomorrow. You make $20 million a year. Why not buy a $30 million home? Welcome to the club where bankruptcy is just another sequel to the blockbuster of life.

In all fairness we need not judge. What is extravagant to us is essential necessity to them. Sure, because nothing screams "essential" like a banana for the price of a private jet or a diamond face-implant destined to end as a flop/tragedy. Some invest in mutual funds; others duct-tape produce to walls. Cheers to the absurdity of human ambitions, duct-taped for posterity. If you make $20 million a year, and go and buy a 30 million dollar house, you are still broke.

A semi-pensioner with lot to do and little to gain!

Raju Korti
These days, I tell anyone, who cares to ask, that I am a semi-pensioner -- caught between the uncertainty of no stable income and the constant struggle to find purpose. Living in this limbo, each day is a balancing act of managing my limited resources and seeking a sense of belonging. In short, an existential crisis.

Image generated through AI

As a semi-pensioner, my existence is a curious blend of freedom and relentless anxiety. I am neither fully retired nor gainfully employed, a predicament where financial instability looms large. Every day is a jigsaw puzzle of survival strategies, trying to stretch the limited income I have from sporadic minor work and the rapidly dwindling remains of my past savings.

The thought of retiring (rather being made to retire) before the age of 60 felt like stepping off a cliff into an abyss. In my naivete, I had envisioned an extended vacation, filled with leisurely pursuits and newfound passions. Instead, I found myself feeling lost and purposeless. The social interactions and daily routines of work, which I once took for granted, became gaping voids in my life. I quickly caught on to the fact that without structure and a sense of contribution, retirement was far from the tantalizing scenario of a blissful escape I had imagined.

Returning to work in a minor capacity was a compelling necessity, both financially and mentally. The income is modest, just enough to keep the wheels turning, but not enough to alleviate the persistent worry about the future. At 68, I am still grappling with the need to reinvent myself. Every morning, I search for a reason to get out of the bed beyond the basics of eating and self-care. It is a struggle to find meaning and purpose in a life that feels increasingly fragmented. This blog is just an escape route and a fleeting but desperate attempt at diversion and distraction.

The society views work as more than just a means to earn money; it is intertwined with one's identity and sense of worth. Money is, undeniably, the currency of survival. Without it, the existential crisis deepens, making every day a battle to sustain oneself. I believe, we are a tribal species, and without a community or support system, survival becomes an uphill task. Finding my tribe in retirement has been essential, yet incredibly challenging. 

I feel that everything else apart, cooperation and connection are vital. Those without a tribe tend to wither, their lives shrinking as they struggle alone. Health issues add another layer of complexity, as the safety net of family or friends becomes even more critical. I do not know if I sound emotional or overly sensitive, but to me an honest confession overrides all other thoughts.

In this journey, I have come to realize that while financial security is paramount, emotional and social well-being are as much important. The predicament of being a semi-pensioner is one of navigating uncertainties, but also seeking out the pockets of life where joy and purpose have to be rummaged from the unending struggle.

In the dance between survival and purpose, my steps falter, yet I persist. In the twilight of uncertainty, hoping that the beginning of a new dawn awaits. Jeevan chalne ka naam, chalte raho subaho shaam!                      

Trump 2.0: Corporate interests over public good

Raju Korti
Flush with his victory, President-elect Donald Trump has unveiled a series of high-profile cabinet appointments, blending political loyalists, outspoken firebrands, and a few polarizing figures. Expectedly, these selections have sent ripples through the US of A and international political landscapes. About Washington's foreign policies to put it precisely.

Donald Trump, Wikipedia grab

Trump's past record and recent rhetoric provide a window into the foreign policy trajectory he may chart. Known for his transactional diplomacy, Trump's approach to geopolitics is often seen prioritizing personal rapport and economic pragmatism over conventional diplomatic norms, with implications for several key players on the global stage.

It is only natural that I (must) begin with the Indian standpoint. India stands to benefit from Trump's pro-business stance and counter-China agenda, which align with New Delhi's own strategic priorities. His earlier tenure saw stronger bilateral ties (compared to Biden), driven by mutual interests in defence, trade and counter-terrorism. The catch here is Trump's tendency to scrutinize trade imbalances may also resurface, potentially leading to tensions on issues like market access and tariffs. As fellow journalist, Mayank Chhaya observed cryptically after Trump's victory: "Ab taareef aur tariffs, dono ke liye taiyyar ho jaiye".       

In the case of China, I do not see Trump's hardline stance likely to soften any bit. His trade wars, technology bans and rhetoric blaming Beijing for the Covid-19 pandemic highlight his confrontational approach. There is therefore every reason to believe that his second term could see an intensified decoupling efforts, with broader alliances like the Quad playing more central role.

My gut feeling is Russia presents a more complex scenario. Despite accusations of undue deference to Vladimir Putin during his first term, Trump may leverage his unconventional diplomacy to navigate the Ukraine crisis, albeit with a more America-centric focus. It would not be altogether surprising that such an approach could embolden Moscow, but his unpredictability keeps this relationship on a tightrope.

Iran has a bigger headache on its hands. Trump's decision to withdraw from the nuclear deal underscored his zero-tolerance policy towards Tehran's regional ambitions. A return to power imply heightened sanctions, military posturing, and limited diplomatic engagement unless, of course, Iran bends significantly. In the present scenario, that is difficult to imagine.

While there has been a talk about Pakistan having all the cause of worry, it needs to be kept in mind that Trump's oscillation between praise and criticism could persist. While he may continue to demand accountability on counter-terrorism, his transactional approach could also see renewed aid if deemed strategically beneficial. What this simply translates into is the Americans will be guided by their own political expediencies and the India-Pakistan dynamics will play a limited role -- mostly pompous statements -- as and when it suits them. Understandably, some of the announcements made in the past by his aides have sparked unease in Pakistan, but I personally do not read too much into it as these contradiction always obtain.      

A notable hallmark of Trump's governance has been the appointment of ultra-wealthy individuals to key cabinet positions, raising concerns about an indicative Plutocracy. His second administration may amplify this trend, with billionaires and corporate elites likely to hold sway in policy-making decisions. It is not without a plausible reason that this approach risks prioritizing corporate interests over public good, undermining trust in governance.        

Mike Tyson's last hurrah, a resounding victory in defeat!

Raju Korti
I have never been particularly drawn to the brutal theatrics of boxing. The ring, with its violent dances of power and precision, feels both electrifying and unnerving. Yet, like many, I have found myself captivated by figures like Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier among others, whose lives outside the ropes have often been as compelling as their careers inside them. And then, there's Mike Tyson -- a man whose story is less a boxing saga and more a rollercoaster of triumph, controversy, redemption, and spectacle. 

On Friday night, at 58 years old, a battle-scarred Tyson stepped into the ring for what he called "one last time". Squaring off against Jake Paul, a YouTube personality turned fighter, Tyson may have lost by unanimous decision, but this was far from defeat in the accepted, conventional sense. Before a crowd of 72,300 at the AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, and millions of viewers worldwide, Tyson demonstrated not only the unending allure of his persona but also the sheer resilience that has defined his life.

For someone who almost died just a few months ago, Tyson's appearance in the ring was an emphatic statement. It was not just sheer bravado and bluster that boxers are known for but also of unshakeable confidence. He revealed that a severe health crisis in June had left him debilitated and fighting for life -- losing half of his blood, enduring eight transfusions, and shedding 25 pounds while being laid low in a hospital. "I almost died", admitted Tyson. Yet, there he was toe-to-toe with an opponent less than half his age, in what he fittingly described a a victory in its own right.

It is as tempting as it is easy to criticise Jake Paul for orchestrating a fight with someone three decades his senior, or for taking his foot off the gas after the third round when Tyson's age began to show. However, there's another perspective worth considering: Paul's arrangement gave Tyson a controlled environment to bow out gracefully, not only avoiding serious harm but also walking away with a massive $20 million payday. It was, in its own way, a tribute to Tyson's legendary status -- a recognition of his place in boxing's pantheon. Little wonder then that Tyson proclaimed victory in that defeat.

Exuding raw masculinity and brute power, two characteristics that best describe any great boxer worth his salt, Tyson is often celebrated as one of the greatest heavyweight boxers of all time. A fighter whose ferocity and demonic strength redefined the sport. His explosive style in the ring was matched only by the sheer intimidation he exuded -- an aura he consciously modelled after his idol, Sonny Liston, the legendary "bad man" of boxing's past. Like Liston, Tyson blended unrelenting aggression with an enigmatic, often controversial persona that extended beyond the ropes, creating a mystique that both enthralled and unsettled fans. It did that to me, never a great votary of an activity described as sport. His life and career, a volatile mix of brilliance and chaos, mirrored the very essence of the sport he dominated, making him not just a champion but a symbol of boxing's primal intensity.

Tyson's career has been nothing short of a cinematic epic. From becoming the youngest heavyweight champion at 20 to his infamous bouts with Evander Holyfield (remember that ear-biting scandal) from the prison sentence that nearly destroyed him to his remarkable reinvention as a pop culture icon, Tyson has lived a life larger than life itself.

To me, what makes Tyson fascinating isn't just his triumphs and his controversies but his willingness to evolve. In his youth, Tyson was a force of nature -- unrelenting, intimidating, and unpredictable. Now, he has metamorphosed into a reflective elder statesman of the sport, candid about his struggles, health issues, and the inevitability of ageing. His acknowledgement of "losing but still winning" speaks to a newfound humility, an awareness that life's victories aren't always measured by trophies or score-cards.

Friday night's fight was less about boxing and more about a legacy. For Tyson, it was a chance to share a final moment in the spotlight, to remind the world of his enduring spirit, and to allow his children to witness their father's resilience. For the fans, it was it was a farewell to a man whose life story has been as captivating as any fight he has ever been in. For a diehard scribe like me who uses "flexing muscles" or "bulging biceps" only in figurative sense, he makes for an irresistible copy.

TAILPIECE
I am told that Jake Paul (27) after making short work of Tyson (58), has now set his eyes on Jimmy Carter (100).        

Toying with emotions through emoticons!

Raju Korti
Imagine this: an entire conversation, possibly a friendship, sustained through an endless stream of thumbs-up, heart eyes, laughing tears, and facepalms. This is not some futuristic language experiment but the current reality of communication, especially on social media platforms like WhatsApp. The phenomenon of emojis -- or emoticons if you like -- has almost usurped language from mere words to multi-coloured symbols, sometimes witty, sometimes baffling, and occasionally even profound. But what are we sacrificing -- and gaining -- in this quirky semiotic revolution?

Save for a few emoticons, I have found most of them esoteric and baffling. As someone who is word-indulgent (not prosaic), I have always reveled in deploying words but having taught across most reputed colleges in Mumbai, my constituency was completely different. I discovered the youngsters preferred to rely more on emoticons than words when it came to communicating. It was as baffling as it was amusing. A new emoticon would often make me scurry to the net to know what it meant, only to forget it when dealing with it again next time.

Lest I should be thought of as an impatient, ageing, old-fashioned, man bogged down by generation issues, let me say this: Emoticons, at their core, are symbols -- a throwback to the days of hieroglyphs. I can understand, though not always appreciate, that they don't just complement language; in some cases they replace it entirely. Younger generations have developed an almost mystical grasp over these pixelated glyphs, piecing together sentences and sentiments without typing a single word. It is a swift, shorthand way of expressing everything from joy to exasperation. And who wouldn't appreciate the efficiency of sending a single crying-laughing face instead of typing out, "That's hilarious"! 

Indeed, emoticons have introduced an undeniably universal element to the language, creating a bridge across cultures. Think of the globe's most popular emoticons like the "smiley or the anger." No matter where you are from, they deliver a shared sense of meaning -- far more effective than wrestling with translation software or cross-cultural misunderstandings. Looked thus, emoticons have enriched the linguistic landscape, giving people a common tongue that transcends language barriers and even generations. 

However, there is a cost to this pictorial convenience. Language is more than just communication. It is a carrier of culture, nuance, and history. When reduced to symbols, the fidelity and the richness of expression and subtlety might be lost. Take sarcasm for instance -- a favourite tool in any wordsmith's toolkit. How does one convey biting sarcasm or layered irony through a mere smiling face? Sure there are emoticons that come closer but are not quire right there.

For the traditionalists (who may feel that emoticons are the linguistic equivalent of graffiti on a library wall), there is an apprehension that we are witnessing the decline of words themselves. With emoticons, people are encouraged to think in bite-sized, colourful fragments rather than in full, articulate sentences. What could this mean for the future of language skills, for reading comprehension, or for the beauty of crafted prose? If emoticons take over as the "universal language" could we face a future where words are relegated to the sidelines, merely supporting acts in a new world of smileys and symbols?

Perhaps, we are being too harsh. Language has always evolved, after all. Just as English absorbed words from Latin, French and German, it is entirely possible that emoticons are well on course of this revolutionary phase. There is an art in choosing the right emoticon that resonates with tone and context, a skill that requires sautéing empathy and cultural awareness. A youngster may create a cocktail of emoticons to represent emotions in ways that words may not fully capture, embodying the very essence of communication in a digital age. In fact, emoticon users might argue they're making language more accessible, malleable, more concise, and above all, more fun.

So, are emoticons the future? Will they replace language, or will they continue as mere accompanying artistes? The jury in me is still out but the prosecution in me hesitates. In a world that is speeding up, emoticons have found a way to meet the pace, even if they leave die-hard grammar enthusiasts (like me) shaking their heads in despair. Perhaps the best approach is to see emoticons as what they are: an accessory, not a replacement. A well placed emoticon can amplify the meaning, while overuse can lead to a grey area of ambiguity. Ask me. I deal with them first thing in the morning when grappling with messages on WhatsApp.

In this tug of war between a liberal and a conservative, I would evaluate emoticons as neither a linguistic hero nor a villain. They are just symbols of the times. And may be the next time we are tempted to send an emoticon without a single word accompanying it, we might pause and wonder: is this an evolution of language or merely its colourful eclipse?                         

Do and Undo: The high-stakes game of scrapping public projects

Raju Korti
In the highly crooked landscape of Indian politics, there appears a pattern preceding most elections: the tendency of opposition parties to promise the scrapping of major projects introduced by the ruling party. The latest example is Uddhav Thackeray's Shiv Sena declaring it would scrap the Dharavi Redevelopment Project if elected to power. Similar reversals, some of which immediately come to the mind and mentioned here, illustrate this recurring "do and undo" phenomenon. 

A Wikipedia grab of Dharavi

While people, divided on party lines, rejoice in this specious but senseless assurances, it is conveniently forgotten what this means to the citizens, and more critically, for the state's financial health. Take for instance the Bullet Train project in Maharashtra linking Mumbai and Ahmedabad. It initially received support from the Maharashtra Government. However, after the Vikas Aghadi (MVA) coalition came to power in 2019, there were suggestions to reassess the project's land acquisition process and question its viability, especially given its cost. It slowed down the project and delays only added to complications and cost escalation. The project was re-railed with the change in the government. This back-and-forth delayed construction, shot up costs, and frustrated stakeholders. The story of Mumbai's Metro 3, is not different.

The Statue of Unity in Gujarat, the Aarey Forest Metro Car Shed (Mumbai), the three-capital proposal of Andhra Pradesh, the Farm Laws Repeal, Article 370 and Goa Mining Ban only underscore the frequent shifts in policy when rival parties assume power, often leaving the projects in limbo and leading to escalating costs and heartburns. The effects range from economic disruptions to loss of public trust, with each example reinforcing the need for stability and continuity in state policy, especially on large-scale initiatives impacting millions of citizens. But trust deficit means little to parties blinded with political gains and brownie points.

Projects like the Dharavi Redevelopment take hits from such flip flops that are purely meant to show needless one-upmanship. There is little thought for the implications this would have for residents living there in challenging conditions. For years, Dharavi's residents have looked to redevelopment as a pathway to improved housing and sanitation, job opportunities, and enhanced living standards. If halted, the delay would extend the community's struggles, keep them languishing in deteriorating conditions, and shaking their faith in government promises, which in any case, are taken with a bagful of salt. Dharavi, as it were, should not have been allowed to happen in the first place but the federal governance in India has always been about first allowing a problem to grow and then resolve it for seeking political gains.

Political leaders never tire of shouting hoarse about poverty in the country. Chest beating for the have-nots has now outlived its utility as a political rhetoric, and yet, this spools plays regularly. Nobody is even amused anymore. Beyond this political recreation, such policy reversals have severe financial implications. For those who couldn't care this way or that, the loss is finally recovered from them. 

Projects like the Dharavi Redevelopment involve years of painstaking planning, tendering processes, and substantial investments in preparatory work. When a new government decides to halt or reverse these projects, these sunk costs -- money spent without producing a tangible result -- add up. Not only the public bears these losses, the state also diverts resources from potentially productive projects.

In Maharashtra, significant resources were directed towards major infrastructure projects like the Mumbai Metro, Coastal Road, and regional economic hubs. Political promises to put on hold, halt, scale back such initiatives -- often to align with ideological or populist positions -- disrupt their envisioned benefits. The state loses both direct financial investments and the potential long-term revenue and growth these projects are meant to generate.

The key question is whether these policy reversals serve any larger ideological purpose. While some policy shift reflect genuine ideological differences, many reversals are driven by political motives to serve the interests of a particular class of people or constituency. The Dharavi Project, for instance, is less about ideology and more of a politically symbolic gesture -- asserting that the new regime can and will undo its rivals' work. Adani or what is often bandied as "crony capitalism" is just a front. 

This political manoeuvring comes at a high price -- not just financially but also in terms of continuity and stability. The administrative machinery, which spends months if not years planning and implementing projects, is thrown into disarray when new governments rewrite policy plans. 

Such a "do and undo" cycle also adversely impacts investor and public confidence. Consistent policy changes make it challenging for investors and tax-payers (read citizens), especially in real estate, manufacturing and infrastructure, to trust long-term commitments. If foreign investors and development partners feel uncertain about project stability, they may hesitate to commit capital to projects that could be terminated based on electoral outcomes. Moreover, this cycle restricts bureaucratic progress, diverting attention from growth-centric policies. Bureaucrats, unable to rely on continuity, tend to become wary in decision-making. It shifts their focus to adopting short-term safe policies over long-term, transformative initiatives.

For a so called "progressive and Numero Uno" Maharashtra to emerge from the "do and undo" trap, a bipartisan approach to major policy decisions could be a step forward. Instituting bipartisan committees to vet large infrastructure projects before they commence, or establishing special legislative approvals for major reversals, could introduce checks on politically motivated policy reversals. Additionally, involving citizen advisory boards and local representatives in decision-making can create a direct connection between policy decisions and public sentiment. This could ensure that the people's needs are prioritized over political gains. The moot point is can this happen in a country where larger public interests are sacrificed for myopic political gains?

Maharashtra with its rich history and vast economic ambitions, cannot afford to allow its growth trajectory to be dictated by cyclical political rivalries. But can collaborative governance ever happen in a country where petty rivalries divide and rule hapless citizens?

Pawar Play: The art of saying goodbye without leaving

Raju Korti
I first bumped into Sharad Pawar way back in 1975 in Sangli when I was pursuing my second year in Engineering. I was 19, and he at 34 was emerging as a promising young politician under the tutelage of the astute Yashwantrao Chavan. In the prosperous Western Maharashtra belt, powered by its cooperative movement and influential agrarian leaders, Pawar appeared as a face of a new era -- a striking figure in Ray Ban sunglasses and blue jeans, carrying a dash of flair and a fairly impressive knowledge of Marathi Literature. As the years passed, he evolved effortlessly into a shrewd leader with an uncanny ability to attract the masses. Yet, his early image of youthful dynamism gradually gave way to a reputation for strategic cunning and complex political manoeuvring that would become his hallmark.

As the young man in his stylish avtaar walked with a confident gait and an assured demeanour, I could see he was markedly different from the seniors in his league -- Sangli's sugar baron Vasant Dada Patil, Walve's sugar baron Rajarambapu Patil and Shirol's Ratnappa Kumbhar. But little did I have an inkling that he would leave them all behind one day -- for good and bad reasons. 

This rather longish preamble of history is necessitated in the view of what I have to write about him today, although those who have seen him all these years, would see through him and his penchant for political machinations, as nothing surprising. The 83-year-old Nationalist Congress Party leader today hinted at retirement from active politics, stating that he may not contest future elections. He expressed his intentions to pass on the party baton -- particularly the progress of Baramati -- to his successor Yugendra Pawar. Speculations over Pawar's final innings in electoral politics have been circulating for some time now, and was raked up again by nephew Ajit Pawar.  

The Pawar Vs Pawar fight for Baramati might be seen as a referendum on Sharad Pawar's continuing influence over voters, as it sees his grandnephew Yugendra Pawar, do a battle against nephew Ajit Pawar whose rebellion forced a split in NCP. The fact, however, is it is not about his fighting further electoral battles but about his leadership. His hint of stepping away from active politics after his current Rajya Sabha term sparks questions about the authenticity of his statement, especially given his past record of unpredictability in critical political moments. All along, he has skilfully pivoted on similar retirement pronouncements before, keeping both allies and adversaries on the edge and guessing. 

Pawar's narrative of passing the torch to younger leaders, specifically positioning Yugendra Pawar for Baramati, could well be another strategic move to rally his support base amid the purported family rift triggered by Ajit Pawar. Remember, the stories of the nephew being planted in the Devendra Fadnavis' camp during the early morning swear-in and how he (the nephew) pulled the rug from under Fadnavis' feet and returned to his party fold before the incumbent chief minister had even managed to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

Pawar's political conduct is such that people are forced to read something into it even when there is none. The timing of Pawar's statement to bow out of active politics coinciding with Ajit's defection and the upcoming assembly elections, raises a legitimate talking point: Is this a genuine exit or yet another tactic to consolidate the NCP's legacy under his proxy successors. Better still, another ploy to throw dust in the eyes of his adversaries; always unable to read his wrong 'uns.

It would not be altogether surprising that given his past hints, his retirement announcements might be a calculated manoeuvre to command greater authority over his party's trajectory. His refusal to retire during the 2023 NCP split, when he famously declared "Na tired hu, na retired hu", displayed a characteristic resistance to being sidelined -- especially by familial dissenters. When he announced his resignation as party chief last year, it was retracted as swiftly, illustrated his penchant for leaving his audience guessing.

In that light, Pawar's latest remarks could well serve his intentions of killing several birds with one stone: appeasing for generational leadership change, asserting his influence within the NCP amid Ajit Pawar's blow-hot-blow-cold power play, and perhaps most importantly, creating space for his allies without formally stepping down. The political chessboard he has crafted shows he has mastered the art of remaining in the game, even if he hints otherwise.

In politics, retirement is less a final act and more of a recurring plot twist. So, as Pawar hints at his last bow, there is every reason to surmise that it could be just another intermission before the next act. After all, in the grand theater of Sharad Pawar's career, curtains quite never close. They just get dramatically drawn back. Come rain or no rain.    

There is no itch-guard for fingering!

Raju Korti
Of the entire complex human anatomy, it is always the big players that hog the limelight -- the heart, the liver, the pancreas, the lungs -- et al, basking in their glow. The poor little finger hardly gets the nod. Nobody even thinks of writing an ode, forget a sonnet, for the finger. No one waxes poetic about its nimble dexterity or pointed poking. Little wonder, the finger suffers from a constant itch, a rebellion against its underappreciated existence. 

A GIF image

The finger, however, has its moments in the anatomy spotlight. All it has to do with its obtrusive personality is to is to tinker and probe posteriors. Except its owner's. So here is to the "finger" that does what comes best to its owners -- fingering. A tribute to the unsung hero and warrior vying for a place in human strife!

The finger, that diminutive, restless digit, has taken upon itself -- with understandable vengeance -- to get an itch for interference. All fingers have their roles, but the finger -- the one that can't sit still -- is uniquely equipped to poke, prod and stir with an almost hypnotic insistence. It has an inbuilt radar for naughtiness, trained to find the precise spot to press for maximum effect. You know what that spot is. I call it the G-spot.      

The finger is multi-talented and versatile. It is both a tool and a weapon, subtle yet relentless, with an itch that only intensifies with each jab. It has an innate ability for an unquenchable urge, forever in search of something -- or someone -- to butt in and justify its sadistic existence. The noble art of fingering transcends languages, cultures and generations. The itch turns the tool into a weapon by those who must poke and prod to keep the world buzzing with their unsolicited guidance.

The finger is "others' envy, owner's pride." You know their types. The itch inspires them for a mental nudge that leaves others scratching from their heads to their G-spot. The Finger Masters of the universe know there is no lotion to cure the irritation caused by them. Finger is a baton that can create a symphony of interruptions. More the chaffing, the sleeker it gets. Watching everyone squirm is their (seats, where else?) cherished sport and pastime.

The finger, like the terrorist, has no religion. It can be secular, liberal and conservative.  It is high time fingering is considered an international sport. With so many ardent practitioners and compulsive competitors, it should be given an Olympic status. Finger-waggers (my coinage, before you unleash your finger at me) deserve a special place in the hall of fame. If the cosmos has any sense of humour, it will bring a cutting edge to a competition where the war will will be fought with a finger of one hand while the other is busy shielding its own backside.              

While we live in a world where Finger Maestros reign supreme, ruling not with a heavy hand but a nimble finger, we must also understand that without them, life would be just a bit too finger(ing) free. So keep fingering. Ungli salaamat toh ...... 

Here is my ode to the finger and fingering.

Oh, the noble finger, restless and bold,
Forever itching, forever cold,
Heart and brain steal all the acclaim
You poke and prod your way to fame.
You ruffle feathers, you stir the broth
A reminder to all: I am here too.

Israel's UN rebuke, a growing rift in global diplomacy!

Raju Korti
Israel's decision to bar United Nations Secretary-General Antonio Guterres from entering the country marks a significant diplomatic confrontation. It can be interpreted as a challenge to the UN's international standing. The move has come after Israeli Foreign Minister Israel Katz accused Guterres of being patently biased against Israel, calling him a 'persona non grata', a serious diplomatic term that signals a complete rejection of an individual's presence or involvement.

Antonio Guterres (un.org)

Guterres has expressed concerns regarding Israel's actions in recent conflicts, calling for humanitarian considerations and cautioning about civilian casualties. In the eyes of Israeli officials, these statement are one-sided, given the broader context of the conflict with Palestinian groups. By barring Guterres, Israel is sending a strong message that it will not tolerate what it perceives as unfair scrutiny, so what even if it came from the world's purported highest diplomatic office.

The recent escalation in the Israel conflict with Iran and Palestinian groups stems from a combination of long-standing regional tensions and more immediate triggers. Iran's support for Palestinian militant groups, particularly Hamas and Islamic Jihad, through funding, arms, and training, has intensified Israel's security concerns. Additionally, Israel's expanding settlements in the West Bank, coupled with military operations in Gaza, have provoked Palestinian groups, leading to retaliatory rocket attacks. Iran's broader regional strategy. aimed at countering Israeli influence through proxy forces across the Middle East, further fuels the conflict, creating a volatile cycle of provocations and military responses. This dynamic is compounded by failed peace negotiations and deep political divisions on both sides.      

While the move to bar the United Nations chief is being dubbed as a bold political manoeuvre, it is not entirely unprecedented for the countries to clash with UN chiefs. However, such a direct barring of Secretary-General is very rare. I do not know if this has happened ever before. Previous instances of tension between countries and the UN leadership have typically and conventionally played out through diplomatic channels or through public criticisms, but formal bans like this?

Israel believes that this is the Secretary General who has yet to denounce the massacre and sexual atrocities committed by Hamas murderers, nor has he led any efforts to declare them a terrorist organization. "A Secretary-General who gives backing to terrorists, rapists and murderers from Hamas, Hezbollah, and now Iran -- the mothership of global terror -- will be remembered as a stain on the history of UN. Israel will continue to defend its citizens and uphold its national dignity with or without Antonio Guterres". That is as unequivocal as it can get when diplomatically worded statements leave a lot for interpretation.   

This decision has broader implications for the UN's status as an impartial global body. The Secretary-General's role is to mediate conflicts and address issues impartially, but barring him from entering Israel undermines the UN's ability to act as an unbiased peace broker. Furthermore, this could set a precedent and encourage other nations with grievances against the UN to adopt similar tactics, potentially weakening the organization's influence. The UN as it is, doesn't have much sway and has been known to be a stooge of the US, which is even more befuddling.

In the broader geopolitical context, such actions risk deepening international divisions and further complicating efforts for peace in conflict zones. I feel this could be viewed both a symbolic and practical blow to the UN's authority on the global stage. The UN holds significant authority on the world stage stage as a central forum for international diplomacy, conflict resolutions, and humanitarian efforts. It brings together 193 member states to address global challenges like peacekeeping, climate change and human rights. However, its influence is often constricted by the competing interests of its most powerful members, particularly the five permanent members of the UN Security Council (P5) -- United States, China, Russia, the United Kingdom , and France -- who wield veto power. Among these, the US has traditionally held sway due to its financial contributions, military might, and diplomatic leverage.

The pitch is queered by other P5 members like China and Russia who often challenge US influence, particularly on issues related to international security, reflecting the geopolitical power dynamics that shape the UN's capacity to act. As a result, the UN has only moral authority and a broad mandate, and its practical influence is often shaped by the interests of these global powers. 

The weight of Existence: Finding clarity amidst crises

Raju Korti
Since reaching my mid-life, I find myself becoming increasingly philosophical, reflecting more deeply on the nature of existence and the purpose behind everything I do. The once-straightforward path of life now feels riddled with complex questions -- questions about meaning, mortality, and my place in the universe. This growing philosophical outlook has led to moments of existential crisis, where the routines and roles I had previously found comfort in seem empty and insignificant. Sometimes meaningless.

As life progresses -- if it really does -- I often feel caught in a tug-of-war between the pursuit of purpose and the overwhelming sense of life's inherent absurdity. This shift in my perspective has forced me to confront the darker aspects of existence, leaving me more cynical more than occasionally, yet more introspective. It is a mirage that I may or may not find. I do not care either ways. But in this struggle, writing has emerged as my way of processing these thoughts, providing me with a semblance of clarity and personal meaning amidst the uncertainty.

I have been thinking too much about Existentialism and Existential Crises of late. It has occured to my limited and amateur senses that Existentialism is a philosophy that confronts the very core of human existence. It asks the most unsettling of questions: Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? Wittingly or unwittingly, these thoughts are shaping up my persona and psyche, often leaving me on the edge of doubt and cynicism. I have found myself grappling with existential crises more often than before -- times when life feels meaningless and every pursuit futile.

These crises have arrived in different forms. Sometimes, they creep in during moments of introspection, making me question the purpose of my actions and relationships. At other times, they have hit me like a storm when faced with the fleeting and ephemeral nature of life. The awareness of mortality has often weighed heavily on me, making it hard to find joy in the present or hope for the future. This constant questioning has made me cynical as I begin to see the futility of societal  structures, norms and the rat race we all are part of. The illusion of meaning we create to keep ourselves busy often feels like a farce.

However, despite the dark nature of these thoughts, they have also made me more self-aware. My personality has evolved into one that values authenticity over pretension. I have become more sensitive to the human condition. In a way, the struggle with meaninglessness has deepened my understanding of life's fleeting and transient nature, pushing me to seek moments of genuine connection and purpose. If you think this as the work of narcissistic mind, be it.

Writing has been my refuge, shelter and haven in their similar connotations. When the burden of these existential thoughts becomes too heavy, writing allows me to process, reflect, and sometimes even resolve them. Through (the act of) writing, I try to create my own meaning. Each word I exercise on the page serves as a reminder that while life's meaning may be subjective or elusive, I have the power to define or redefine it for myself, Writing gives me control over the chaos, making it an antidote to the existential despair I often feel. It helps me embrace the uncertainty, not as a burden but as a space for personal growth.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, writing has become my anchor -- a way to navigate the turbulent waters of mid-life's philosophical reawakening. In each word I find meaning even when life feels meaningless. It offers me solace, a reminder that while I may not have all the answers, I have the power to create my own. Through writing, I am learning to embrace the unknown not as something to fear but as an invitation to grow, reflect and find beauty in the search itself. As I bore in one of my earlier blogs on Quantum Physics, the travel is more intriguing and rejuvenating than  the destination.                  

A mindless tactic called "mind games"

Raju Korti
In keeping with their utterly misplaced belief of "playing cricket the hard way" -- whatever that means -- Australian spinner Nathan Lyon has smugly predicted that Australians will whitewash India 5-0 in the ensuing Border-Gavaskar Trophy. Now Lyon is no soothsayer. He does what most overseas cricketers, especially the Australians have been doing doing, and pompously called as "mind games". It is an old hat that has already outlived its utility in times of high stakes cut-throatism.

A representational pic.

In the modern era of cricket, mind games have become increasingly redundant, meaningless, and largely ineffective. While psychological tactics once held value in unsettling opponents, today's professional cricketers armed with sports psychologists, data analysts and immense mental resilience, are far less susceptible to such strategies. If they can be called strategies at all.

Lyon's prediction of a 5-0 win for Australia is a classic example of mind games in a game that thrives on its so called "glorious uncertainties". The idea is to plant seeds of doubts in the opposition's mind. In this case, the ones on whose soil they come to play in an annual jamboree. Unfortunately for Lyon and his "hard playing" team-mates, India having made short work of Australia in consecutive Test series, including the famous 2020-21 victory in Australia despite a heavily depleted squad, is not going to be fazed by such comments. Players today are not only physically prepared but also mentally fortified to handle the pressures and verbal barrages that comes with high-stakes cricket.

Mind games also have this disconcerting trend of boomeranging on those who deploy them. Remember how during the 2019 Ashes Australian skipper Tim Paine famously sledged Jofra Archer trying to throw him off his game. Instead, Archer's response was swift and clinical. He produced a match-winning bowling spell that left the Australians reeling. Through their "mind games" Australia snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Just a day before, Bangladesh wicketkeeper aimed to throw the ball at Rishabh Pant's injured leg instead of the stumps. Pant gave it back to him with interest. Wasn't it the same Border-Gavaskar Trophy that after having made tall claims of routing India 4-1, Sehwag responded by saying India would thrash Australia 3-0. Which is what finally happened.

In a time where professional athletes are more attuned to the mental aspects of the game relying on mind games to gain advantage seems futile and counter-productive. Performance on the field now decisively overshadows attempts to rattle opponents through psychological warfare.

The proliferation of media and social platforms has diluted the impact of mind games. What was once a controlled tactic, exchanged within the confines of press conferences or the field is now quickly dissected and debunked by even half an analyst, commentator or fans online. Players often themselves respond with humour or dismissive gestures on social media further reducing the sting of such poor ploys. In this eco-system, actions on the field dominate the narrative, leaving verbal jabs more as fleeting distractions rather than strategic tools. Today's cricketers are trained to focus solely on performance, making mind games an outdated and ineffective practice. The ridicule that the team subjects itself to is the proverbial insult to the injury.

Forget sportsman's spirit. Rubbing a competitive rival the wrong way could potentially backfire. Moral of the story: Don't shoot off with your mouth. Let your game do all the talking.