In around 1340 AD, a Mongol army laid siege to a fort in Caffa, modern day Crimea. Soon the Mongol army was annihilated not by the enemy but by an unknown illness that killed thousands of its soldiers. As Mongols retreated, they ordered that corpses be catapulted into the city, hoping to overwhelm the city with the smell of decaying bodies.  Little did they realize that they had become first army to use biological weapons. Soon, Caffa, a Genoese - modern day Italy- trading post in Central Asia was infected with Plague. The Genoese traders and merchants  in Caffa returned to Genoa, Sicily, and Venice, not only with the trade from Asia, but also with the devastating infection.

Black death had arrived.

In next few years almost one third of Europe’s population (~ 2.5 Crore people)  will die from this deadly infection .

Anecdotes like these make The Silk Roads - A New History of World an interesting book to read for a casual reader like me. Author Peter Frankopan intends to write the history of the world as seen from the east. The expanse of the book is ambitious to say the least. It starts with Alexander and ends with junior Bush. Peter Frankopan looks at almost all (!) the major events and empires of last 2500 years and tries to weave a coherent story using threads of Silk Roads. It is fascinating to read how this trade route between China and Mediterranean has been singularly instrumental in shaping the contours of History. The essence of the book is that the history of world is the history of control of Silk Routes.

One of the constant themes of the book is to challenge East versus West binary. It is sometime easy to forget that seat of Roman empire for almost 1000 years was not Rome but further east in Istanbul (Constantinople).  Similarly it is almost impossible to view Christianity as another eastern religion. In one the more fascinating chapters, Peter Frankopan takes us through the early rise of Christianity in Persia and Central Asia. It is interesting to see how Christianity borrowed heavily from Buddhism which was dominant religion in what is today Afghanistan and Central Asia. It is the quirk of history that early Romans saw east including India as morally corrupting culture. Who would think that it was Asia who taught Italians to drink, make love and appreciate art !

Another recurring theme is Globalization. World was flat long before Nandan Nilekani coined that term and Thomas Friedman wrote his best seller. In 2nd century AD, about 50% of total minted money from Rome found its way to Asia (largely India). One of the key trading ports then was Barygaza, also known to us as Bharuch. Flourishing trade on this route also meant that may towns rose to become great urban centres of their times. One such city was Palmyra , whose ruins were recently destroyed by ISIS. Trade fairs in Palmyra would attract thousands of traders from faraway places like India and China. Imagine merchants travelling thousands of treacherous miles on foot, and sea ! To cater to such a large flux of traders many new cities came up along the silk routes. One such city in 9th century was Baghdad. At its peak it was the richest and most populous city of the world. One of the earliest Mega cities. Few other cities that sprung up during this time were Basra, known for its market, and Mosul known for the finest public baths. Sadly all are synonymous with death and destruction today.

Much further down the timeline, in the 18th century , there is another interesting story which challenges the belief that globalization is a modern day phenomenon.  In 1757, with Robert Clive’s conquest of Bengal, the centre of gravity of world power had firmly moved to Britain. Robert Clive became the Dewan of Bengal. With Dewani came the power to tax Bengal, one of the richest parts of the World. Bengal was the centre of booming textile industry which made India the proverbial sone ki chidiya. Robert Clive went on to kill the golden goose. Quite literally. Exorbitant taxes were imposed. Food prices skyrocketed leading to the infamous Bengal famine. Millions of Indians died (rather killed). Robert Clive became the richest man on earth. But over a short period of time an entire industry was destroyed. Revenues from Bengal dropped and East India company was on the verge of Bankruptcy. The shocks were felt across the Pacific. To make up for the losses in Bengal, the British Empire passed Tea Act in America. This triggered a fury among the local population in America and eventually led to American revolution. The world has been interconnected much longer than we sometime imagine !

Sadly, Silk Routes is not only the story of prosperity, wealth, and great cities. Wealth has come (and gone)  at a great price. Silk routes are drenched with blood from relentless wars. Empires have come and gone, their banners have changed colors , they have come on horses, camels , tanks and F16s, but threads of Silk Routes have always been tangled.

Year was 627 AD, Persian army had taken over Palestine and Syria after a decade long war. Romans barely held control of their last fortress, the Constantinople. In a remarkable turnaround Romans , with the help of nomadic Turks, crushed the large Persian army in the modern day Iraq. Almost 1400 years later , a war is still being fought on precisely the same plains between almost the same empires.

Amazing.

So finally 2014 general elections are coming to an end in a week’s time. Experts tell us that these elections are unique in many ways. Apparently there are an unprecedented number of new or first time voters. I keep wondering why would that happen. Why in 2014? I mean not that our grand daddies had any lower libido. In fact population growth rates have only slowed down over the years. But then I read somewhere that it is mostly due to the efforts of the election commission. Not trying to take any credit away from mommies and daddies of these first time voters. I am sure they worked equally hard.

But there are other ways in which these elections are different as the experts tell us.

1. There is an anti-corruption messiah who promises to clean the system. No, WAIT, I am NOT talking about VP Singh. Yes I know he was also “anti-corruption messiah”. Well yes I get it, VP Singh talked about mostly the same things. He too had all the Swiss bank account numbers of corrupt slimy politicians. He too said he will take on the nexus of corrupt but that was like way back in 1989. That is ancient history. That doesn’t count. In fact remember rule#1 - anything before Facebook doesn’t count.

2. And then there is the ultimate outsider, a chief minister, a Gujarati, challenging the dynasty. When has that happened before? Who? Morarji Desai?? I don’t get you. What are you talking about? What? Devegawda was also an outsider? C’mon south Indians don’t count. You should know that. That’s rule#2.

3. And then there is this ultimate battle which is totally unique this time. The mother of all battles, even bigger than the Hulk Hogan versus Andre the Giant, THE SECULARISM VERSUS COMMUNALISM thingy. This has totally never happened before in India. This will change India forever. Well, If not India then definitely the IDEA OF INDIA. What? You have no clue what idea of India is? Don’t panic, nobody does. Just remember it is in DANGER. How will it change your life? IT MAY NOT!!! But it will change the TV debates! GET YOUR PRIORITIES RIGHT WILL YOU??? What?? India has a long history of years of communal disharmony? Communal riots have been regular feature of Independent history? Well let’s not get into facts. That’s rule#3.

4. These elections will mark the end of the 60 years of tyranny of the dynasty. If you are wondering that for all of the 90s there was no dynasty rule then please remember rule#3.

5. These are first general elections covered by Arnab Goswami in his Batman avatar. This changes EVERYTHING!

So for all the obvious reasons mentioned above, these elections have created a lot of flutter on, where else, Facebook and Twitter. While on Twitter one is mostly abusing strangers, it is Facebook where battles are drawn between “friends”. Gloves are off and friends who you thought were mostly good looking/gourmet/photographers/globe trotters, and when none of these then puppy-cute-madly-in-love-couple-living-a-perfect-life have become your political opponents.

The Facebook divide is so sharp that you have to pick your side or else a side is picked for you. So you could either be on the side trying to recapture glory of ancient India when there was a Vedic way to fart or your great grandfather was born when Mahmud Gazni slept with Lord Macaulay. You are either supporting the anti-corruption messiah or you are minority-hating /wife-beating/gutkha chewing regressive goon. You are either blood (or Ambani) sucking (crony) capitalist or foreign funded communist.

In this season of picking labels I have decided to be blood sucking capitalist with Vedic fart. Let’s wait for May 16th.

ये  रास्ते  इतने  लम्बे  क्यूँ  हैं  ?

ये  मोड़  इतने  अंधे  क्यूँ   हैं  ?

क्यूँ  चेहरों  की  आड़  में  मुखोटों  की  भरमार  है  ?

क्यूँ  माँ  की  लोरी  में  भी  अधजगी  नींद  की  गुहार  है  ?

सोचता  हूँ  फिर  थक  सा  जाता  हूँ ,

चक्रव्यूह  में  फंस  सा  जाता  हूँ |

पर  फिर  वही  सवाल  बार  बार  है , 

कृष्ण  की  गीता  को   क्यूँ  अर्जुन  की  दरकार  है  ?

क्यूँ  कर्ण  की  जीत  में  धर्मं  की  हार  है  ?

जीवन  क्या   जलती  हुई  लाश  की  चित्कार ?

सोचता  हूँ  फिर  थक  सा  जाता  हूं,

चक्रव्यूह  में  फंस  सा  जाता  हूं |

 हर  बात  के  पीछे क्यूँ कोई  बात  है  ?

क्यूँ  सीता  को  भी  राम  का  नहीं  साथ  है  ?

 भीष्म  अपने  ही  प्रण से  क्यूँ आघात  है  ?

जीवन  क्या  बस  शतरंज  की  बिसात  है  ?

सोचता  था   फिर  थक  सा  जाता  था ,

चक्रव्यूह  में  फंस  सा  जाता  था |

फिर  एक  दिन  सही  और  गलत  की  दिवार  पर 

अपना  एक  घर  सा  बनाया  था ,

घर  इतना  खोखला  की  खोखलेपन  से  भरा  था ,

पर  घर  तो  घर  होता  है ,

घर  में  बड़ा  सुकून  होता  है , 

बस फिर  कृष्ण  को  देखा  और  मुस्कुराता  रहा 

चक्रव्यूह  का  चक्कर  लगाता रहा                              

चक्रव्यूह  का  चक्कर  लगाता रहा  ..

O Rahul O Rahul..they say when a girl breaks your heart your first instinct is to get into a denial mode followed by a vicious hatred. Well not sure about the hatred but am sure in denial.  It will be a while before the feeling sets in. In the meanwhile just pretend this is 1996 and its Lord’s. That’s when you became part of my life. You were boring I dare say that. I was overawed by Saurav and his off side play.  But as they say, true love is the one which grows. And boy it did. It did and how. Thing with love is, you are most likely to find it when least believe in it. That’s when you are most vulnerable to it. 2000-2001. After more than a decade of following Indian cricket, I was told it was a charade, a choreographed film not more real than circus of WWF.   Get used to it; I told myself, this is life. And I sweared to God that never will I trust anyone. Then 2001 happened; that 180 and I told myself don’t be fooled. Once bitten twice shy. Then that day in Leeds. Wounds were healing. I told myself, don’t fall for it. All good things are unreal. And then you played or outplayed the devils themselves in Adelaide. And I had to convert. Every time you batted it was as if you were reinforcing that life is a bitch, you got to grind. Fight. Don’t give up. You are alone. But it can work. And it did. Good things happened. Wounds of the past were healed. And as they say good things happen to those who wait and boy didn’t you wait. In between there were funny moments too. Like when you gave it back to Donald, I laughed, coz that was totally not you. And when Slater bad mouthed you, I thought you should have punched him but of course you wouldn’t. And when you declared when Sachin was on 194, I was confused but knowing you I knew it must have been the right thing.  Right thing. I guess that’s the word. I know why I admire you so much. You were always right. When you left the ball outside the off stump or when you swayed away from that bouncer or that vicious cut or when you went for my favourite pull in front of the square leg, you were always just about right. So how can you be wrong now with your retirement. Guess I will respect you not for 13,288 runs or 36 centuries, but for being right …..always.

Now welcome to our world, world of mortals, and trust me picking the right onion can be as tricky as picking the wrong’un from Warne.

Well done mate and thanks for everything. Cheers !

My first memory of cricket and a very fading one, is that of England vs Australia world cup final in 1987.  You can call me ancient, i call myself prodigy of cricket, well at least a spectatorial prodigy, if there is a word like that. On a more scientific note, studies do tell us that our earliest memories are from the age of 6 or 7. This is the age when the child has a newfound ability to a more adult like reasoning (or in other words this is when we start screwing up our life). I have tried to understand the reasoning behind this particular memory but due to lack of evidence i will attribute it to God. In fact this memory is the first instance of my life which hinted to a presence of a superior force. This is the memory of English fast bowler Gladstone Small. Now Small was no ordinary man. His body defied the science of anatomy and physiology. The man had no neck. There was a trunk and over it a head. But the neck, which was there in every other human being I had seen, was missing. Immediately i concluded this was the vindication of the existence of god.

My next memory surprisingly comes from 1989 after a gap of two years which could scientifically mean that i lost my newfound ability of adult-like reasoning immediately after getting it. Now there are other memories which do not come from scientific enquiry but are due to deep emotional and traumatic childhood experiences. Watching Sanjay Manjrekar and Shoaib Mohammed score double hundreds in the same test match left psychological wounds which even when healed left scars in the form of hounding memories. There is also a very feeble memory of a flat nosed kid whose name i cannot remember making his debut in the same series. Anyways.

My next prominent memory and a very significant one is from India’s tour of England in 1990. If Gladstone Small had made me faithful, Graham Gooch smothered any faith i would ever have in God and sometimes as i think, even in humanity. Gooch’s two day long ordeal was like hanging by a noose with tongue sticking out and yet not dying. Yet his knock was also an exercise on European rationalism, a lesson which i learned after being led into believing by my elder sister that i could get Gooch out if i buried myself in the blanket without coming out once till he got out. After several hours i came out a changed man with sweaty exasperation of a man who had lost his faith in God and more importantly his sister. Gooch was still batting.

India’s tour of Australia in 1992 was a cathartic experience to say the least. It was a long tour, five test matches followed by a tri-series followed by the world cup. At the end of the tour i was not the only one pondering the futility of existence. Tour was a crash course on life. No matter how withered your spirits are, get up because tomorrow is going to be a new day and its going to be worse.

As i look back at these memories and there are many more, i envy the current generation of supporters. These are good times to be an Indian supporter. We still lose and sometime lose badly but there is almost an inevitability of better tomorrow. Perhaps the only thing common from those dark ages is that flat nosed kid whose name i cannot remember.

Internet giant Orkut has decided to sue cabinet minister Kapil Sibal. In a press conference the spokesperson of Orkut, a leading social network site, blamed Kapil Sibal of favouring competitors like Facebook and Twitter by selectively asking them to remove offensive content from their website. Orkut said there was no reason to believe that content on Orkut was less offensive than Facebook or Twitter, yet the minister chose to ignore Orkut in his statement. It said that Kapil Sibal’s selective omission of Orkut is indictment of its 20 million users in India who are as derogatory, hateful, vulgar and threatening as any other social networking site. It said that minister has totally ignored its past reputation citing state censorship of its website in other countries like Iran and UAE. The spokesperson said they have sent a note to home minister PC Chidambaram and have demanded an auction of any such ban or screening. Chidambaram when asked about the auction was seen turning pale and denied presence of any such note.  Kapil Sibal has retorted by saying Orkut has no presence in India and 20 million figure is notional. Subramanium Swamy has claimed that he has clear evidence that son-in-law of a very senior Congress leader who shall not be named has majority stakes in Facebook and Twitter and Government by raking up this controversy is trying to raise the valuations of these companies.  He said that son of a very senior Congress leader who shall not be named and not Mark Zuckerburg is the actual owner of Facebook and after this controversy valuation of this company has increased by 10 fold as there has been a sudden surge of people joining Facebook to protest against the Government tyranny by posting vulgar status messages. Anna Hazare has called this surge, a third freedom struggle. BJP meanwhile has reacted bitterly accusing Congress of stealing its agenda. In a press conference BJP spokesperson said censorship has always been BJP’s key agenda and in fact they even believe in censorship of the Parliament. Rahul Gandhi in a rally in UP has supported Government’s decision to censor social media saying it was the poor of the country who suffers the most from offensive content on internet. He then went to poor Kalawati’s house and liked her status message on FB. Mayawati has called this a farce and said if he really wanted to meet a poor he would have met somebody on Orkut. 

When i was told that the ICC President was slapped, I felt that it was totally against the spirit of the game. ICC has not been the best guardian of this great game. Yet being the stewards of this gentlemen’s game, we don’t slap each other just because pitch was not conducive to bowling, which I honestly thought was not. ICC needed to be reprimanded but in a more cultured way. Slapping took it too far. It’s just not cricket.   Before I could pen my angst I was told that the guy was slapped for being an incompetent agriculture minister, and that he happened to be the ICC President  was just incidental. Then it’s OK, I took a sigh of relief.

Now I am a Gandhian and totally condemn any act of violence, I could not help but notice how slapping as an act in itself, taken out of current context, is a quintessential Indian expression of admonishment. We as a nation are obsessed with slapping. Our kids are the most slapped around kids in the world, in fact slapping the neighborhood kid is our way of saying that we care. Slapping is also the second most accepted act of breaking the ice with freshmen in Engineering colleges. The first being - stripping naked. At its best slapping is corporeal manifestation of motherly (most of the time fatherly) love.

But there is more to slapping than meets the cheeks. The beauty of slapping is that it may not inflict physical injury like its more cruel cousins like kicking, punching, lynching but when it happens, in full view of public, it inflicts psychological damage that none of the aforementioned can ever do. No wonder then the slapping is the most favored instrument of rebuke- much ahead of, a more British act of caning – by the teachers across the country. This effectiveness of slapping in doling insults is successfully captured and reflected in Indian popular culture especially cinema where Zamindars often use act of slapping in full public presence to emphasize the social pecking order. Slapping is also an unequivocal declaration of authority, as done by Dada Thakur when he slaps the dreaded Dr. Dang, in an all time classic Karma.

Slap is also the electoral symbol of our oldest political party. Slapping is deeply ingrained in our democracy too. So much so that “the slap on the face of democracy” is a phrase used equally, and equally freely, by both politicians and the common man. In fact slapping on the face of democracy is coming of age of democracy itself. Every citizen of India irrespective of gender, and social order can slap the democracy equally.

And fortunately like most of us our democracy is Gandhian too; it always offers the other cheek. 

Underarm flick from the point and bails were off. And the kid was mesmerized. 

Another slash and this time harder but before the kid could admire the shot, comes the royal back flick from the point and ball loops into the keeper’s gloves. 

Kid was now ecstatic with joy. Majestic is all he could utter. Not the speed or the agility but the absolute nonchalance of the act that made him so majestic! Collars up and eyes firmly on ground, he was a humble aristocrat among the plebs. Standing at slips, hands folded back, right leg swinging in semi circles, as if trying to paint the ground with his boots, he was a boy lost in his own fairy tale oblivious to the stage around him. Paint he would, the ground, but with bat in his hands, like a master who after years of devotion to the art can conjure up images without the palette or the canvas.

But to the kid he was no magician. Kids don’t understand art, none of it*. But they love their mythology. And he was his mythical hero. Mighty warrior fighting the demons from the dark underground. He would lose the battle often but not before slaying the mightiest of the enemy warriors. He was a tragic hero. He was Karna not the Arjun and that made him special.

Well needless to say the kid was me and my hero was Azhar. Hero almost in the mythical sense of the word. Myth of Azhar was built in 1990 in that otherwise forgettable tour of England. Watching an opponent batsman score 333 runs in 2 days can be draining, but listening it on radio, ball by ball for 2 days, can suck the soul out of even the most life affirming person especially if the batsman is certain Mr. Graham Gooch. If I needed any affirmation on life I would get it the next day. Azhar produced the most audacious counter attack seen by the English in their own backyard. His 121 was David in front of Gooch’s 333 but Goliath was humbled again that day. We would lose the match but the myth was born. I had my hero, first and sadly the last. Mythology would grow over the years and so will the faith. It puzzles me often whether the mythology propels the faith or the faith spreads the mythology. As I grew in the years the meaning of hero would change. No longer did I need the assurance of the warrior fighting off the demons, but the faith would spread the mythology. Azhar was now the man I wanted to become, a middle class boy who broke into the world of big boys while still sticking to middle-class ethos** of humility, respect, rigor and above all uncorrupted by blinding razzmatazz of the stardom. He was shy, still stumbled on words and those eyes were still firmly on ground.

Everything would change but and my hero would gradually strip naked and with him my faith. I saw it coming i must confess, there were signs. Troubles in his personal life, changes in the lifestyle, rumours of under-performance were all alluding to imminent fall. But the faith is binary either you have it or you don’t. And when you have it you are impervious to reason. That is why it is so difficult to fall out of love or to reason with a man of faith. So I would defend him, fight the critics, dismiss the doomsayers; and occasionally he would help me with flashes of brilliance in the field.

Finally it came like a divorce notice in the summer of 2000. Azhar was accused of match fixing and eventually banned for life. It was a bitter pill to swallow would be an understatement. I just wanted to hide..let’s pretend nothing has happened..he was just another cricketer caught with his hands in the jar. How does it matter? he was just another cricketer…Denial is a great coping mechanism.

Have you ever been abandoned? There is a sudden vacuum that threatens to consume you. It’s the sudden absence of faith. Faith as illogical, almost-embarrassingly-stupid it is, is a wonderful anchor, a Raison d'être.

To be honest some of the best cricket I’ve seen and enjoyed has been post Azhar. But somehow cricket has not been the same. When I rooted for Azhar, it came from inside, it meant something else…..

*Most of them DONT :D

**middle-class ethos , there is no such thing

Press confirm to complete the transaction. Somehow it read press confirm and we will screw you. I can sense these things. But sensing is one thing and knowing is other. If we knew everything we sensed, things would make much more sense. Anyways.

I confirm. And i wait.

 5 seconds gone.

I haven’t realised yet that I’ve taken the ride. My brain works with a lag of 5 seconds. If there was a way to delete those 5 seconds in every conversation i have had, i would be the most quick witted person ever. But that is not how those 5 seconds work. So I stare at my screen like a dim-witted retard.

Nothing happens.

Now it clicks. Brain starts to connect logically the events that have taken place in last 5 seconds.

I pressed confirm. Transaction was made. Money was debited. The TICKETS should have been booked. Simple silly.

 Another 5 sec lag.

 Tickets should have been booked. But that doesn’t look like the ticket page.

Then what is it?

It says TRANSACTION FAILED, TRY AGAIN.

Brain is clueless. But knows it’s duty. It has to come with the answer. What next is the question.

Neurons are running helter-skelter. Right brain left brain. Every freaking corner.

This is called panic. Not a very profound situation to panic but 4745 is decent sum of hard earned money, which looks like, have been gobbled up by the nexus of Makemytrip and HDFC bank.

Brain as useless as it might be is a clever organ. It knows how to save it’s arse without delivering. RELAX it says. Calm down. Things are totally under control. Whose control??? I ask nervously. That is not important, Brain replies. This gives those neurons time to make up some response. Go to the website and look for the customer care option. I do like an obedient child. Dial the number and you will get your money back. Everything is under control. I take a sigh of relief. If not for my brilliant brain i would have been a dead man.

I dial. Computer lady replies, “Welcome to Makemytrip. We make memories unlimited”. Do not trust any lady who says this. Even if she’s a computer. I wait impatiently. She continues,” dial 1 for …dial 3..dial 123 for…..”. I look clueless-ly at my brain. I get an out-of-office reply. I’ll have to do it myself. I dial 3. Computer lady, “dial -56 for…dial -55 for….dial 103 for..”. In a desperate attempt to save myself from the embarrassment of my inability to decipher large chunk of numbers, I disconnect. I need time to regroup. I must be more prepared. I look at my brain again. It winks and shows a thumbs up. I dial again. Computer lady, “dial 1 for…dial 2 for….”. I follow intently. I dial every freaking number she tells me to with the hope that finally she will say dial 1 to talk to our customer care executive. After 5 mins and dialling all the even, odd, prime, rational, irrational numbers, I look at my phone screen. It reads f#78% u b$%322$%!.

I give up. Welcome to Makemytrip and we will take you for a ride. After all we make memories unlimited.