It Is In The Genes.

Both my hipjoints crumbled in December 1980 and since then,  there are a few things that I miss not being able to do with my replaced and revised hip joints restricting my activities.

During my younger days among the many other things that I did was to be a keen motorcyclist. I have written about it in this blog post. In fact, just before and immediately after my marriage, the vehicle I used to first court my then fiancee and later wife, on two wheelers. The first, a Vespa scooter and the second a Jawa motorcycle.

Like all doting fathers encouraging their children to do things that they themselves cannot or could not do, I encouraged my son Ranjan to take up to motorcycling. From the time that he was old enough to get a driving license, he has had a series of two wheelers starting from a moped, graduating to a scooter and then on to motorcycles of various horsepowers till finally he has settled on a powerful roadster of the Royal Enfield brand.

When I was older but not very much wiser, my uncle who was a keen golfer took me under his wing and taught me how to play golf and got me a membership in a prestigious golf club too. I played regularly between 1967 and 1980. I was fairly good at it too and played to an officially posted handicap of 14. My hip joints gave way in 1980 and I had to stop playing.

Ranjan surprised me with an announcement a couple of weeks ago that he is taking up golf seriously. I was and continue to be delighted. Here he is practicing the chip shot.

From that clip I can see a good golfer emerging and I am delighted.

Here again I will see my dreams come true through Ranjan. I hope.

Weekend Athletes.

I was inspired to suggest this post for Shackman’s and my 2 on 1 weekly Friday post on the same topic after I had published Retirement 2 on my blog.

It is not as though weekend athletic activity is something new that has just caught on with the younger corporate crowd. We had such activities too in our working days. Golfing, sailing, cricket, tennis, billiards, bridge, etc were all part of our weekend lives.
My readers know that in the early mornings I sit with my mug of tea in my verandah abutting our garden. From where I sit I can get partial view of the road just outside our compound behind the picket fence that you see in this photograph.  Many walkers and joggers who know me greet me as they pass by.

On weekends, both on Saturdays and Sundays and on all public holidays, the number of joggers shoot up sharply and on some days, large groups jog with motorcycle/scooter born cheer leaders egging them on.  Sometimes, the numbers are so large that the parade to stop can take up to half an hour!

I call these holiday joggers weekend athletes as I do not see them on other days.  They may well be jogging somewhere else on other days but, on holidays the groups who run outside my home do not put in an appearance there on week days.

I am neither a weekend nor a week day athlete! During my working days, till my hips gave way, I was a weekend athlete playing golf and /or tennis on Saturdays and Sundays as well as swimming a few lengths of whichever club swimming pool that I was a member of at that time.  During weekdays, I had to satisfy myself with just the yogabhyas at home every morning and I really used to look forward to the weekends for the golf, tennis and swim.

Those activities came to a stop in 1981 and I had to satisfy myself with yogabhyas, and the club’s gym facilities for those exercises that I was allowed.  I however used to love the post exercise sauna and shower.  Since my late wife took ill and I had to assume caretaker duties all those also stopped and I never went back to them after her death.   I now restrict my exercises to just the morning yogabhyas.

Many of my friends even now play weekend golf and the retired ones among them play more during week days as they can afford to!  I sometimes go and sit at the cafe in the club and read books or magazines while I wait for them.  None of them jog!

Freaky Ali.


Freaky Ali is loosely based on the old film Happy Gilmore that I had seen about a decade ago. Adam Sandler’s counterpart in the Hindi version that I saw yesterday is one of my all time favourites, Nawazuddin Siddiqui.

Instead of taking off from ice hockey like Gilmore does in the English version, Ali takes off from being a super cricket player in his inner city low income group area. A neighbour who just happens to be a caddy takes Ali into his hand and trains him to be a pro golfer instead of being an undergarment peddler and part time extortionist hoodlum.

The film has been classified as a sports comedy and I have no issue with that. I have no issues with Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s performance though in my opinion, he has not received proper direction to showcase his histrionic talent. Just about all the other members of the cast emote and overdo their bit but I suppose that to get a comic effect out of a fairly serious situation, that is the only way to go about it.

It was an enjoyable outing but nothing that I would rave about. I would give it a three star out of five stars rating and advise my readers that you can see it if you have nothing better to do!

Tiger Woods

I cannot but feel sorry for Tiger Woods. Just read this story about his own feelings of remorse. I personlly wish that I had been a close friend of his to advise him when the s*** hit the fan, with him ramming his SUV into a few trees. Had I advised him, he would not perhaps, be in the predicament that he is in today.

Just Swing it!
Just Swing it!
With Sania’s tennis career at an all-time low, golf may be the way to go for a reasonable afterlife. With Kapil Dev as coach, prospects couldn’t be brighter. Of course, Tiger Woods will only be too glad to help if Sania is serious. At a recent cancer awareness event, the tennis sensation did exhibit a penchant for swinging the club.

The above news item is from the “Gliterati” page of one of India’s popular weekly magazines. Kapil Dev is an icon in India’s cricket loving world as a great cricketer who after retirement has become a scratch golf player. Sania Mirza is a tennis icon whose looks and tennis have floored India completely.

The point of this post is not about Kapil Dev or Sania Mirza, but the quip about Tiger Woods in the story. Tiger Woods is also an icon in India among the golfing fraternity and the sports crazy Indians who follow all global sportsmen.

I think that Tiger has completely mishandled the situation.

Had I been Tiger Woods, this is what I would have done.

1. Hold a press conference immediately after the discharge from the hospital to admit to whatever had happened to give me the bruised lips and cuts.
2. Explain the reason behind the happening.
3. Admit to women voluntarily chasing me to have affairs with me whenever the opportunity offered and my agreeing to have such affairs whenever the opportunity arose.
4. Advise all concerned that I would sort out the differences between me and my wife in my way and no one need to be concerned about it.
5. Be out on the links practicing or playing tournament golf without any further ado,

Why would I have done that?

1. The media actually envies me for my peccadilloes. To maintain otherwise is hypocrisy.
2. Most men, given the chance would do precisely what I did.
3. Most women of the type that follow celebrities around would want to have affairs with those celebrities.
4. Item 2 and 3 is natural and part of our deepest instincts. Women will go after alpha males and males will go after attractive women. I am of course talking about heterosexual people here.

As long as I am willing to own up publicly to what had happened and openly inform all concerned that I shall handle the fall out with my wife and sort out the matter to her complete satisfaction the matter should be treated as closed. I am entitled to my privacy and if any one did not like that aspect of my personality, he can stop being a fan.

Had Tiger Woods done what I would have done in his place, I think that he would have come out of the whole affair better than he has. His sponsors might have hemmed and hawed for a while but no major hiccups would have taken place. His male followers and admirers would have adjusted their admiration a couple of notches up. His female fans would have decided to take their chances too whenever the opportunity arose.

That leaves the wife. Not being a woman, I am unable to figure out what she should have done. I of course admire her for going after him with a niblick. Should she do something like what Heather Mills did with Sir Paul McCartney? Unlike Heather Mills, Elin Nordegren dropped out of public sight after their much publicized marriage. Perhaps one of my lady readers would like to offer some ideas!