Tina Sharma Tiwari

A couple of days ago, a very senior and very successful female colleague of mine loudly proclaimed “If I were Pakistani, I’d vote for Imran Khan… I’m Punjabi after all, shakal dekh ke vote dete hain!”  I laughed because she’s normally a pragmatist, not to mention a very sharp political analyst. And none of the Pakistani political pundits are willing to give Imran Khan a chance. Not for a majority, and certainly not for the top post. All they are willing to concede to him is that he may be a ‘game-changer’.

I write this as Pakistan votes today. General elections that are being fought under a dark cloud of death threats, assassinations and terror. Elections that are historic; for they mark the first transfer from one civilian government to another, in the history of Pakistan. But I’m not about to dwell on the political minutiae here… I’d rather leave that to experts. But what I do want to say is that sometimes things happen that defy logic and calculations. And little as I know about Pakistan and its turbulent politics, I do feel that this time, it will be different for the charismatic cricket legend-turned-politician. And I’m not just saying that because I’m basically yet another sports journalist who’s spent their entire lives idolising this man.

There IS something different this time, don’t you think? There is a restlessness in Pakistan, an angry youth that is fed up of the current crop of politicians and wants a better future. In the run up to these elections Imran has said on more than one occasion that the youth voters will make all the difference. It remains to be seen if indeed that will be so, but the fact is – in all the years that Imran Khan and his Tehreek-e-Insaaf have been around, they’ve been laughed off as political lightweights. No one’s laughing this time.

Interestingly, he’s the only major player unscathed by the Taliban threat – while other political parties have had to virtually cancel all election campaigning under the shadow of the gun, Imran’s rallies have been given a free run. Bilawal Bhutto Zardari was scared all the way back to the UK, robbing the PPP of its star campaigner and even the tiger of Punjab, Nawaz Sharif (the man tipped to win these polls) was forced to significantly lower the tenor of his roar in the run up to the elections. Add to that the sympathy waves that flooded in when Imran had that near fatal 15-foot-fall (the kind of sympathy that elicited the above comment from my colleague) and you have a situation where suddenly the wind seems to be blowing in one direction. Towards Imran Khan.

He may not win a majority; yes I accept that, because I really know nothing about Pakistan’s politics. But I’m sure he will be a key player, a king maker perhaps, winning enough votes to decide who gets to sit on the throne. Whether he forms part of the government or takes up a position in the opposition, his days in political wilderness seem to be over.

Some people are born with shining destinies and we already know he is one of the blessed few – World Cup winning captain and all. And you simply can’t deny the charisma (how could Jemima ever leave?!) And I know enough people here in India who’d love to see Imran Khan become the head of state of Pakistan. I think I would too, if I wasn’t so disconcerted with his closeness to the Taliban. The Taliban are no friends of ours, remember? And if indeed Pakistan shakal dekh ke vote dete hain, I wonder what that will mean for India. Interesting times.

It makes me so livid, I want to scream. One of the barbarians who brutally raped and murdered that poor 23-year-old in Delhi on the night of December 16, 2012, is about to go virtually scot-free. Because our blind, deaf and dumb legal system is allowing that to happen. All because he is seventeen years and six months old and not quite eighteen. So he’s technically a minor. Who cares? Apparently the juvenile justice board does. So six measly months are going to make the difference between life and death (because the other five accused face the death penalty and rightly so), and more importantly between justice and absolute travesty. This man brutalized, tortured, raped and murdered along with the others, but he’s going to get away with three years in a correctional facility. Just the thought of this monumental injustice makes me seethe with rage.

What is it going to take to ensure this doesn’t happen? That he doesn’t just cool his heels in a juvenile remand home instead of paying for his heinous crime. Do we, the ordinary citizens of India once again need to throng to India Gate and Jantar Mantar, candles in hand, just to make the powers-that-be see the light? Are they that blind? That heartless? Can no one think beyond the prescribed doctrines of legal textbooks? Can the judiciary not make an exception? Isn’t our system hopelessly flawed if this monster is allowed to give justice the slip?

I hope my lawyer friends enlighten me on what can happen from here on. I hope someone tells me that yes, exceptions can and will be made. Because otherwise I am spiraling into despair, thinking about this impending miscarriage of justice. I am losing my mind wondering how that poor victim’s family must feel in this face of all this. They know what he did to their daughter as do we – and the police report makes it amply clear that this so-called ‘minor’ was perhaps the most brutal of the lot. This country is not worth living in; if all that happens to him is 3 years in a remand home. I mean it. We cannot let that happen. If it takes more protests, let’s do it. If it takes further outrage and demonstrations, let’s hit the streets again. Let us, in the media, go hoarse shouting about it yet again. For someone needs to do something.

But if he does get away with it, then I promise whoever is instrumental in allowing it that justice will be delivered, one way or another. Let him just step out of that remand home after three years. He will not make hundred yards. The hundreds of thousands who stood tirelessly at Safdarjung Hospital and India Gate and Jantar Mantar will be there. They will be waiting to pounce on him and rip him to shreds. And he will get his due at the hands of the public. He will be lynched and stoned to death. And he deserves no less.

It’s really so pathetic. The Indian Olympic Association suspended by the International Olympic Committee. I mean, really, can we not get our act together enough to convince the world that we’re not a bunch of morons? But that exactly, is the problem: sports in our country are in fact, run by a bunch of power-hungry, greedy morons. Which sports official has ever actually been interested in sport?

Okay, there may be a few. Like I believe Abhay Singh Chautala has done some good work for Indian boxing. Perhaps like him, there are a handful of others who command respect from the athletes themselves. But they are the exception rather than the rule. Mostly you sense frustration and anger when you talk to sportspersons about administrators. (Cricket is an exception here, but then, that’s not a sport, it’s a religion).

Anyway, it’s been guys like Suresh Kalmadi and his long-term sidekick Lalit Bhanot who’ve been running the show since my grandmother was born. Can you picture Lalit Bhanot ever having run even 100 metres in his life? Or Suresh Kalmadi playing anything other than drinking games?

That’s where the IOC had a problem. The IOC announced the suspension after a meeting at its Swiss headquarters in Lausanne (lovely city, that), saying the IOA had ‘failed to comply with the Olympic charter’. So what is this charter and what exactly did they fail to comply with? The crux of the problem here is Mr Lalit Bhanot.

The IOC Ethics Commission had actually written to the IOA in October this year, specifically warning them against allowing Bhanot to contest the IOA elections. Why? Because they actually HAVE ETHICS and we don’t. Lalit Bhanot happens to be one of the main accused in the multi-crore Commonwealth Games scam, went to jail for it and is currently out on bail. And yet, he has not just contested the election, but contested unopposed, mind you. So his taking over as General Secretary of the body is a foregone conclusion even as I write this. The IOC recognizes that such people shouldn’t be running sports. But we don’t.

For that reason, I’m actually glad the body has been de-recognized. And I’m not alone. Sportspersons around the country have welcomed the developments, hoping that Indian sports administration may finally get cleaned up as a result of this. Unfortunately I’m not too sure that’ll happen. Call it cynicism but I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then though, there’s always hope.

There was something so utterly delightful about watching a bunch of teenaged kids getting wide-eyed with wonder as they registered the rather improbable fact that they have become nationwide celebrities. The sheer delight on the faces of some, absolute astonishment on others and heartwarming, genuine grins on all.

I was thrilled to have been anchoring the news when the World Cup winning Indian Under-19 cricket team touched down in Mumbai this afternoon, to a rapturous welcome – the kind normally reserved for the superstars of the senior team. The boys’ overwhelmed reactions literally made me laugh out loud.

This is a talented bunch, no doubt, as they only lost one game through the tournament – the opener to the West Indies. And although I didn’t watch that (only started watching from the humdinger quarterfinal against Pakistan) I saw enough in the semifinal and final to know for sure that at least a couple of these youngsters have serious talent and will make it to Team India eventually. Obviously, it’s not just me. Bona fide experts (read former cricketers) like Ian Chappell have gone on to say that the likes of wise-beyond-his-years captain Unmukt Chand (right) and left-arm spinner Harmeet Singh are ready to make the transition to international cricket. Of course, skeptics feel its way too early and that a premature push into the deep end will only lead to them sinking in the quicksand that is international cricket. Unmukt’s endearing father perhaps summed up the fears best when his first reaction to the media after his son’s World Cup-winning century was “hope these boys don’t go astray, hope they get the right guidance.”

Of course some of them might go astray. They’re going to be heroes in their schools and colleges now, not to mention recognized on the streets. They’ll have girls lining up for them and marketing men with pockets full of cash wooing them. And they’re just kids really, so of course it will go to their heads, at least some of them. And I say, let it! What the hell, let them have a ball, they’ve won the World Cup for Christ’s sake! And sooner rather than later, water will find its own level. Those who have to waste away will and the genuine talents will find a way to swim and thrive. After all, don’t we have perfect examples in Yuvraj Singh and Virat Kohli? Both of them came into the limelight after their respective U-19 World Cup wins (in 2000 and 2008), both made celebrated debuts into the senior side, both lost their way and their head somewhat before striking maturity and becoming mainstays of the Indian cricket team. So, I say, some of these boys are ready. Give them a go and see what they’re made of.

In any case, I’m tiring of some of the old faces. The decent, self-respecting ones have already called it a day, hanging up their boots themselves, but it’s about time some of the other superstars of yore realize that they’ve overstayed their welcome, that they’re past their sell-by date. Move over old fogies, make space for the newcomers. Let’s bring in a breath of fresh air.

I’m betting on Unmukt Chand making his senior debut within a season or two and Prashant Chopra and Harmeet Singh in perhaps a little longer than that. There are others too, like Baba Aparajith, Sandeep Sharma and Smit Patel who may also come into the reckoning in the years to come. What fun to wait and watch!

It’s been a crazy few weeks for me (which is why I’ve pretty much been AWOL from social networking) but an emotional day yesterday as I interviewed Yuvraj Singh after a gap of many, many years has prompted me to write. No it’s not just because he’s won his battle against cancer. And certainly not because I’m star-struck. I’ve interviewed him multiple times through my career in print and television.

In fact, I first met him a few months after he made his debut for India in Nairobi in 2000 in what was then called the ICC Knockout or the mini World Cup. Yes, we’ve known each other since wayyyy back then. Yuvi and I were actually kind of friends. I was seeing one of his friends at the time (shhh), so we would bump into each other often enough and I was terribly fond of him. Of course he was loud and obnoxious and pissed a lot of people off, but I like people who live life king-size and wear their heart on their sleeve. And that he did, with élan.

I saw him play the field in more ways than one and then observed amused, as he genuinely fell in love (with a certain Bollywood starlet, of course you guys know about that!). I reported on his exploits as he rose to the absolute heights of success and international fame. And through it all, I thought he was as delightful as ever. But then, somewhere along the way, something changed. The obnoxiousness turned into full fledged arrogance. The tomfoolery turned to insolence and indifference. And so I slowly pulled back. I’m not one of those reporters who can stick a mic in someone’s face even if stonewalled with coldness or reluctance. And moreover, over the years I stopped reporting altogether as I wanted to focus on my young, growing family. So I became an anchor and producer and after a while I lost nearly all contact with my earlier associates and friends from the cricket world.

I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even renew contact when I heard of his cancer diagnosis. Even though the news felt like a punch in the gut, I didn’t try to get back in touch. Maybe I was afraid he’d brush me off. I don’t know. I would follow his tweets and honestly even pray for him, but I wasn’t brave enough or maybe decent enough to send a message. And then, when he returned to India after successful chemotherapy earlier this year, I was anchoring the news and my voice was literally choking as I gave a running commentary over the live pictures of him interacting with his fans and looking as healthy as a man who’s just fought cancer can possibly look. I still didn’t get in touch. Not that it made a farthing of a difference to his life.

But that’s why I was totally overwhelmed and taken aback when he met me yesterday with a great big, bear hug. When he literally bounded out of the door of the boardroom he was in and yelled out in delight as he saw me. When he was warm and affectionate and curious about my life. He is a changed man; there is no doubt about that. And in the interview, he said as much. Yes, cancer has transformed him and his outlook on life. Just today, he has officially announced the launch of his cancer foundation ‘YouWeCan’, through which he hopes to raise awareness and funds for cancer patients. He is lending his voice to the “free Sarabjit Singh” campaign. He supports a book donation programme and probably half a dozen other charities. Much as I had adored the old Yuvraj Singh, such philanthropy is not what you would have associated with him. In many ways he is still the same – laughing and joking and oodles of fun. But today Yuvraj Singh is also compassionate, sincere and truly a wonderful human being. And he’s grown up. To me, that was a very emotional realization.

I wish him and his foundation all the best from the bottom of my heart and can’t wait to see him back in India colours!

Am SO angry about Delhi Daredevils’ loss to Chennai Super Kings last night, I could literally kill someone. And no, its not because I’m some rabid fan who cannot bear to see the local team lose. Nothing like that. I’m pissed off as hell because cricket and its establishment are making first class ch**ias of us all and we’re letting them. They give us one scripted match after another and we, the dumb, vapid, addicted audiences that we are, we lap it up while they laugh all the way to the bank.

We’ve known it all along of course. Who doesn’t know fixing exists? Even the most naïve of fans would be aware that every time these ‘sting operation’ type news items come to the fore, what we are seeing is only the tip of the iceberg. Aw c’mon, do we really believe that little nobodies like Mohnish Mishra and TP Sudhindran are ruining the game? Bullshit. The rot goes much deeper but the powers-that-be always find their scapegoat. We all know that. And yet, despite being fully aware that matches MAY be fixed we are happy to, more often than not, give benefit of the doubt to the game and assume that most matches are clean. Or unscripted, at the very least.

Which is why it causes my blood to boil when they don’t even bother to employ subtlety when it comes to fixing. It’s like they don’t even care that we’ll catch on. Just see how the IPL finals have turned out. First, Chennai gets three times lucky to qualify through the backdoor for the playoffs. Not one, but three random pieces of luck came together for that to happen (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, Google it, I can’t be bothered to explain that here). Then, Mumbai Indians die a whimpering death at their hands in the first eliminator. And finally, an absolute bloody shocker against Delhi Daredevils in the second qualifier.

What the F@#K was that match? Right from the start, it was dubious. The season’s leading wicket taker and purple cap holder Morne Morkel was ‘rested’. Why on earth would you do that?!! So that BCCI boss Srinivasan’s team wins easily? What else are we supposed to think? Post match, we were given lame excuses by the team management that they ‘had to fill the all-rounder’s slot due to the injury to Irfan Pathan… yadda, yadda, yadda… blah, blah, blah’. But why sacrifice Morkel? And moreover, replace him with – no, not someone like Shahbaz Nadeem or even Agarkar – but Sunny Gupta. Who? Yes, exactly. Even the commentators were wondering about that one.

One of the country’s top cricket writers, Ayaz Memon tweeted: “What is the compelling reason for omitting Morne Morkel, this season’s leading bowler. Anybody know?” Moreover, Delhi also chose not to open with Virender Sehwag. That simply defies logic. It even prompted cricketer Aakash Chopra, to ask “First Morkel was rested and now, Viru isn’t opening. We’ve seen it all in this IPL…or is there something else left??”

Well, there you go. I’m not the only one asking these questions, but why aren’t we making a big hullabaloo about it? If you want to fix, at least don’t be so blatant and insult our intelligence. Do they think we’re idiots? What a sorry state of affairs.

Bring on Roland Garros, somebody.

It is not everyday that I become so obsessed with a work of fiction that I lie awake into the wee hours of the morning, trying to envision just how I would picturise it, had I been directing its movie adaptation. Alright, I’m weird, but put it down to a professional hazard where I’ve worked with multiple cameras and their infinite angles for over ten years now. And even then, I know what we have in television is child’s play compared to what is employed and can be achieved in movies. In TV the most complex camera set-up I have worked with is four cameras, five maybe including a Jimmy Jib. Sigh. The very thought of working with as many as twenty cameras for a single shot makes me quake with inspiration.

Which is why I just cannot let go of the imagery that The Hunger Games trilogy has embedded in my mind. Alright, go ahead and laugh. (Yeah, I know it’s meant to be young adult fiction but thankfully my favourite author of all time, Stephen King has quelled my inhibitions on that front, as he considers ‘young adult novel’ a dumbbell term that he puts right up there with ‘jumbo shrimp’ and ‘airline food’ in the oxymoron sweepstakes… Ha ha! Could anyone put it better?) Anyway, so young adult or not, thanks to my insatiable appetite for popular fiction, I do read whatever is taking the world by storm; be it the soppy, mushy Twilight series to the riveting and brilliant Millenium Trilogy to my latest obsession: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire and Mockingjay. Some of you, family and friends, will groan because you’ve already heard me go on too much about this trilogy. So I’ll keep it short.

It is brilliant. It is evocative and it is thought-provoking in a way I never imagined ‘young adult fiction’ could be. Set several hundred years in the future, it is staged in the nightmarish country of Panem, where the annual highlight is a reality TV show called the Hunger Games, in which teenagers fight each other to the death. The concept might make your stomach turn, but believe me, the treatment won’t. Because author Suzanne Collins has woven the fabric of that world so intricately that one almost begins to view the Hunger Games as par for the course, just like the audience in Panem would. And the protagonists, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are so finely etched that one cannot help but feel emotionally engaged with them. And therein lies the secret to a great work of fiction, doesn’t it? Collins’ Katniss Everdeen is even more kick-ass than Stieg Larsson’s Lisbeth Salander – believe me – because she is simply more believable. And as for the baker’s son, Peeta Mellark, well I’d like him for breakfast any day.

The trilogy moves from the adrenaline-fuelled adventurous first novel, The Hunger Games, to the somewhat sluggish second one, Catching Fire, (which I must admit seems not much more than a means to bridge the first with the utterly brilliant third) to the concluding volume, Mockingjay. It is in this intelligent, complex and unsettling third book that one can truly appreciate the allegorical quality of the entire story; one that asks questions we are all too afraid to ask.

The likes of Entertainment Weekly and MTV have listed The Hunger Games – starring Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson and Liam Hemsworth – as the most anticipated movie of 2012. Gosh, I hope it does justice to Suzanne Collins’ book. Can’t wait for 23^rd March.

What is wrong with our public? Why do movies like Ra:One and Don 2 rake in the moolah and become ‘hits’? Are we so mentally retarded as an audience that we not only accept such drivel but actually turn them into blockbusters and thereby reinforce the message to filmmakers that crock-and-bull is what we want?

I have to say though; I’m coming down especially hard on Shah Rukh Khan because once in a while I can actually be hoodwinked into going for one of his films. The Salman Khans and Akshay Kumars of the world are spared my wrath (yeah, like they care) because I wouldn’t touch one of their films with a barge pole. I steer well clear of abominations like Wanted and Singh Is King because from the trailers alone I can tell I will be murderous or suicidal if I actually watch them. Not even a gun to my head would make me shell out money for Ready or Dabangg or Speedy Singh or any other such crude, bigoted nonsense.

So unfortunately all my frustration at Hindi cinema is usually generated (and vented) after watching an SRK film. Once in a blue moon, might I add. (The last SRK film I actually went to the theatres for was Om Shanti Om. And even though I didn’t mind that one too much, I stuck to my guns after that – having caught glimpses of My Name Is Khan and similar baloney on TV, my decision was reinforced.) Unfortunately today was one of those blue moons and I was convinced to tag along for Don 2. Two hours of excruciating boredom, that’s what it was. I returned home with a monstrous headache and severe frustration at having thoroughly wasted a perfectly good winter evening.

Why on earth would anyone make a movie like that, least of all a seemingly sensible chap like Farhan Akhtar? It has neither head nor tail, no middle even. Amidst all the high speed chases, bomb explosions and epileptic expressions from the protagonist, where was the story? Oh please don’t try to convince me there was one. Bullshit. All style and no substance whatsoever.

And yet we seem to have made a habit of turning ludicrous films into hits – like we did with Dhoom 2, which according to me was the most undeserving hit in the history of Bollywood. Until now. Because I’ve heard Ra:One was unbearable (thank God I didn’t inflict that one upon myself) and yet it smashed box office records and all that, while my new favourite Don 2 seems well on its way to achieving the same. They say we deserve the government we elect. Well, we also deserve the cinema we get.

Wish I had just stayed home and watched a DVD of the delightful Amitabh original instead. Or even caught a repeat telecast of the first day’s play of the Boxing Day Test. Anything would have been better than Don 2.

You know, I’m really glad that the Indian Olympic Association has decided against boycotting the London 2012 Games due to chemical company Dow’s sponsorship of the event. Even as the issue had come to fore, I was a little undecided about it. I do empathise wholeheartedly with the victims of the Bhopal gas tragedy and their kin and could therefore understand the call for the boycott. Morally speaking, it was understandable – not justified, but understandable. For those who came in late, the sponsorship caused a bit of furore here in India because Dow wholly owns Union Carbide – the chemical company that caused the gas leak in Bhopal in 1984 which killed almost 25,000 people and injured perhaps a million more and is still considered one of the world’s worst industrial disasters ever.

So yes, the consternation was understandable. The Bhopal government in particular and former athletes-turned-politicians like Aslam Sher Khan in general condemned the fact that Dow is one of the sponsors for the 2012 Olympics. It was an emotional reaction and perhaps a moralistic one. It could have turned into a political storm. We Indians are renowned for letting emotions run our psyche, our actions and our country. Which is why it was such a relief that the IOA dealt with the matter sensibly and justly.

Terrible tragedy it certainly was but the fact is that the matter has been settled in court years ago. That may not be consolation to survivors and kin but as per law, the matter has been a closed chapter for a while now. Moreover, Dow only took over Union Carbide in 2001 – a good 17 years after the tragedy – so none of the current board or management is even indirectly related to the catastrophe. And most importantly, Dow’s contribution to the Games’ sponsorship is a measly 0.08% of the total sponsorship budget. So you see, it’s really not a major player. Therefore, turning the issue into a major one would have been melodramatic, a tad juvenile and wholly unnecessary. At the end of the day, the only people sorely affected by the boycott would have been the poor Indian athletes, many of whom have done nothing but train for London 2012 over the last few years. So well done, VK Malhotra & Co. Let’s see more such rational decisions in the future.

So the BNP Paribas Masters telecast has dropped what I consider an absolute bomb on the tennis world – the fact that former pro Amelie Mauresmo may replace Guy Forget as the French Davis Cup captain… Woo hoo!!!

Now, that’s going to be a real first and trust the French to pioneer it. We’ve seen umpteen examples of male tennis pros coaching the women’s Fed Cup teams – most famously Shamil Tarpishev of Russia – but never, ever, have we had a WOMAN managing and leading a testosterone-fuelled Davis Cup squad. (Alright, all of you who are itching to crack a few jokes about Mauresmo and testosterone, just zip it, alright? Sexual preferences aside, the fact is that she is a woman). So kudos to her and serious respect and acknowledgment to the French male pros, who have apparently not only okayed the decision, but actively supported it. How cool is that? A round of applause please, for Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, Richard Gasquet, Gael Montfils, Gilles Simon, Michael Llodra, Julien Benneteau and Jeremy Chardy.

I can never imagine our future Indian Davis Cup squad accepting Sania Mirza as a captain. Forget about India, do you think Mardy Fish and John Isner would welcome Mary Joe Fernandez as captain? Doubt it. Just goes to show how totally un-chauvinistic and open minded the French really are. C’est fantastique!

So, the news is not confirmed yet, but when it is, remember you read it here first. Here’s to girl power!