Whenever i look at the Sports team in my newsroom, I feel a distant longing and an incisive disappointment. Not because of the content that they contribute. But for a different reason. I look at the members and think I could have also been one of them. And I wander to the exciting alleys of my childhood days.
Yes, exciting. I used to be a cricket crazy individual, innocent and adventurous, unassuming and emotional. I loved cricket. But, only cricket. The over hype of the game in our country had roped me as a victim too. So the other sports were completely ignored by the seeds of passions fresh in my mind during those days. And that is a prime reason- my lack of knowledge regarding other sports like football, hockey, the olympics, tennis, badminton etc.- why i am not in their shoes.
But passion and knowledge are different. You can be passionate about something but know well-informed. Yes of course I was well informed but not a cricket buff ( like the way I can say-now- I am a bollywood buff) Records, achievements, career, statistics used to escape my notice. I only used to be mesmerized and thrilled by the very soul of cricket. Whenever the Indian team walked on to the field, whenever I used to look at a photograph of a favourite cricketer on a card which used to come free with a chewing gum once. So the passion did not seep into research and by the time the evening tuitions took away my freedom to go to the field and play the game unchained, and by the time the pressure of studies and other attractions guiled me, the passion towards the game was going afar.
Now i am left with the memories, layman knowledge and the same old lack of remembrance or interest in statistics- the first step that can make you a successful journalist or more so a cricket historian. But, never mind!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Distant Surmises
Ya so its my 100th post! Way to go! (umm...a little long way perhaps...as far as I can recollect I started blogging around 3 to 4 yrs back....ha ha so that would mean 25 blog posts per year ....or to put it simply, 2 blogs per month. well, a snail's pace has finally got me to the century mark. But then again...
Its a landmark event. Thank you very much. Much accentuated by the Calcutta trip I am about to undergo in a short period of time from now. Ya i still dream to ramble on those romantic wide stretches of red road in South calcutta amidst a drizzle, with the maidan on my left; and to drive through em by pass with the wind caressing my hair and blocking my audibility, I so wish to pass those golden hours simply by looking down to the roads and the playground where children (or lack of them) play to their heart's content and also the roads from my balcony where cars zoom past and I try to identify the make of each of them; how I wish to roam those salt lake alleys clutching your palms tightly and taking each step and making a vow, how I wish I pass through those dingy roads of north kolkata, charmed by the sights, smells and sounds, in a taxi and smile surreptitiously. Oh Calcutta, you will always be with me. No matter wherever I go, no matter wherever destiny takes me, the affinity towards you will grow manifold each time i get an opportunity to visit you.
I was recently stumped by a question asked by one of my colleagues about what kind of a person I am by nature. I was zapped thoroughly. What kind of a person i am? Never thought of it. Or maybe I did and every time i have wandered off to a nearby topic failing to gather moorings into the earlier issue of discourse in melancholy. It was a very deadly question. i failed to answer. I groaned, I whizzed but no words cam out of my mouth. Strange but I still remember I used to consider analysing one's character (that of a friend) na favourite pastime of mine while in college. But now, There have been so many instances that i have been proved otherwise that before venturing out to be judgemental about an individual's disposition, I correct myself and take the road most treaded by people. I cease to dedicate myself. I choose not to. Including mine. Scary, yes, but true, i guess.
When I was returning home today, I recalled that somebody had passed on his thoughhtful and invaluable advice to me sometimes when I was in dire need of it during the junction when i was to decide, whether I will step towards the field of media (television) or not. That gentleman, whom (fortunately) i fail to recall, said with utmost confidence and zeal that there is no such work as production work in tv. And I detest myself for not scrutinising the advice properly or not re checking it (although it did not turn a sore for me) I am finding scope in production work and the words of the particular gentleman that you HAVE to be a reporter to be in TV news is a myth, I discover now. Also a few months back when a very well known reporter from a leading TV channel asked me to become a reporter for her channel, I understood that under the veil of whatever solemnity and grandeur she attached to reporting, the plain deal was that her channel was in dire need of reporters and if it comes witha cheap price tag, then why not? Cheap labour, I see so many around me in the newsroom everyday. I feel sad but unable.
Last but not the least, there was a time when I was astonishingly unable to find faults with me, major ones I mean. But nowadays i do. Such is life. Such are revelations. Amen.
Its a landmark event. Thank you very much. Much accentuated by the Calcutta trip I am about to undergo in a short period of time from now. Ya i still dream to ramble on those romantic wide stretches of red road in South calcutta amidst a drizzle, with the maidan on my left; and to drive through em by pass with the wind caressing my hair and blocking my audibility, I so wish to pass those golden hours simply by looking down to the roads and the playground where children (or lack of them) play to their heart's content and also the roads from my balcony where cars zoom past and I try to identify the make of each of them; how I wish to roam those salt lake alleys clutching your palms tightly and taking each step and making a vow, how I wish I pass through those dingy roads of north kolkata, charmed by the sights, smells and sounds, in a taxi and smile surreptitiously. Oh Calcutta, you will always be with me. No matter wherever I go, no matter wherever destiny takes me, the affinity towards you will grow manifold each time i get an opportunity to visit you.
I was recently stumped by a question asked by one of my colleagues about what kind of a person I am by nature. I was zapped thoroughly. What kind of a person i am? Never thought of it. Or maybe I did and every time i have wandered off to a nearby topic failing to gather moorings into the earlier issue of discourse in melancholy. It was a very deadly question. i failed to answer. I groaned, I whizzed but no words cam out of my mouth. Strange but I still remember I used to consider analysing one's character (that of a friend) na favourite pastime of mine while in college. But now, There have been so many instances that i have been proved otherwise that before venturing out to be judgemental about an individual's disposition, I correct myself and take the road most treaded by people. I cease to dedicate myself. I choose not to. Including mine. Scary, yes, but true, i guess.
When I was returning home today, I recalled that somebody had passed on his thoughhtful and invaluable advice to me sometimes when I was in dire need of it during the junction when i was to decide, whether I will step towards the field of media (television) or not. That gentleman, whom (fortunately) i fail to recall, said with utmost confidence and zeal that there is no such work as production work in tv. And I detest myself for not scrutinising the advice properly or not re checking it (although it did not turn a sore for me) I am finding scope in production work and the words of the particular gentleman that you HAVE to be a reporter to be in TV news is a myth, I discover now. Also a few months back when a very well known reporter from a leading TV channel asked me to become a reporter for her channel, I understood that under the veil of whatever solemnity and grandeur she attached to reporting, the plain deal was that her channel was in dire need of reporters and if it comes witha cheap price tag, then why not? Cheap labour, I see so many around me in the newsroom everyday. I feel sad but unable.
Last but not the least, there was a time when I was astonishingly unable to find faults with me, major ones I mean. But nowadays i do. Such is life. Such are revelations. Amen.
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