OH Dravid!

This one is for the cricket enthusiasts. As for those who happen to chance upon this piece, if you don't follow the vagaries of the men in blue, you are going to get turned off. Please continue at your own discretion.
They say fate plays strange games. But I thought Rahul Dravid was above all that somehow. He came across as a smart man, one of the smartest you will ever meet. The kind who doesn't talk much, always knows what he's doing, and somehow manages to stay on the right side of trouble and controversies, even in this crazed age of media espionage and voyeurism.
It is still amazing how his name was always absent in the ugly coach versus seniors spat that led to Greg Chappell resigning a few months ago. It is amazing how he never put a foot wrong throughout his illustrious career, first as a batsman, then as a wicketkeeper, and as a captain.
The world cup debacle somehow seemed to affect him more than the others. Then on, he was always criticised for not being aggressive enough. Some called him 'that 70s captain'. Though he never reacted openly to all this, it was a shock when he gave up captaincy last month, citing that he wasn't enjoying the job and that he wanted to focus on his batting.
That was just a month ago. Now, he's out of the tour for Pakistan for non performance in 5 games. A month ago, he was taking all the major calls on selections, and now his head has been set rolling by those hungry for 'youth and aggression'.
It is somehow strange that a man like Dravid could make such a big blunder. Dravid the calculated guy who let his bat do all the balltalk. Agreed he didn't perform. But it is somehow disappointing when the same barometer is not used to judge someone like Sachin Tendulkar, whom the nation forgives only too easily.
I had posted blogs on Dravid and Ganguly two months ago, saying that their careers are always intertwined with each other. Now, Ganguly is in the team, and Dravid is out.
It's back to the drawing board for Dravid. I'm guessing he'll come back strongly. He's not the wall for nothing.

Won't come back home this time

(I have a thing for writing about soldiers. Somehow its more fascinating each time. This is another tribute to them)


It gets late, and off go the city lights,
So do the laughter, and the fights,
Ten thousand homes, all getting ready,
For bed time, nightdresses and stories,
A cosy little world, it thunders outside,
Dina shakes in her bed, little eyes wide,
Momma will daddy get wet? Will he be fine?
Does he have a bed and does he sleep on time?

Daddy's at the border, rifle in hand,
Shivering in his boots, but at his stand,
There's tension over the mile, bombs erupting,
Momma knows that, still, she keeps smiling,
And says daddy's a super man, he takes his rest,
And when they need him the most, he gives his best.
Dina says her prayers, and closes her eyes,
Momma kisses her forehead, and puts off the lights.

Meanwhile, daddy is in battle now, the bombs are closer
And the gunshouts louder, and now one on his shoulder.
He is bleeding now, and he falls to the ground with a slump,
A bullet in his body, throbbing, a fatal mettalic lump,
And daddy knows he's seen the last of Dina and his wife
And he's trembling now, just trying to hold on to his life,
As it slips away, he prays 'God let Dina grow up right',
And a few minutes later, daddy passes away, into the night.

Momma gets the news when Dina is at school,
She closes her eyes, and the world begins to whirl,
And she knows she can't tell Dina, some things can't be told,
You can't say daddy's gone forever to a four year old,
And so at night, the world watches TV at the end of the day,
About movies, cricket, ministers, and whats 'hot' today,
Dina is in bed, thinking her superman daddy is doing just fine,
And in the darkness, momma cries the night away,
For she knows daddy won't be back home this time.