Friday 27 March 2015
Wednesday 25 March 2015
Tuesday 10 March 2015
Friday 6 March 2015
Are Pakistani cricketers hotter than Indians? Jasoos Kutty investigates
"What will we remember about Pakistan from this cricket world cup? It is quite possible they could rise from the ruins like they did in 1992 and eventually lift the World Cup. But that is highly improbable howsoever possible it may sound."
Jasoos Narayanan Kutty was in his elements as he poured charayam for his clients at Kutty”s Tea & Toddy. After some very eventful and profitable business in Parankimala, where he opened a branch during the football World Cup, he is now back.
Every evening, his shop is filled with customers who love their cricket but love their drinks more. Above all, they adore Kutty and his stories.
"Tell me, what will you remember about this Pakistani team," asked Kutty.
"Afridi, the Dev Anand of the Pakistani cricket team," shouted a woman from one corner of the bar. She was with her boyfriend, a tourist to Kottodi Mukku , where Kutty had opened his latest toddy shop.
"Now you sound like that journalist Rega Jha," objected Shetty. He and his wife were at Kottodi Mukku on their honeymoon. Pure vegetarians, they were forced to eat avial and thoran, while surrounded by carnivores of the worst order. The sort of people who eat beef, yes beef of all things. Every time he ate the mulaku bhajji, he tried to shut out the aroma of beef fry and roast that filled the air.
"What did she say?"
"It is so sad that no matter who wins, Pakistanis will continue to be way hotter than us and we will continue to be their ugly neighbours," said Shetty, "That is what she tweeted."
"Yes, exactly that," Salman agreed.
"I can understand why you are all upset," said Kutty, helping himself to a glass of rum.
"How can she say that?"
"You have to read the tweet again. She begins saying it is sad they are hot," Kutty tried to calm the tempers, "But I don’t know how you missed what happened in that India-Pakistan match."
"What else happened," asked Kora, a carpenter who frequented Kutty’s shop.
"See this is what separates you and me," explained Kutty, "You guys see, I observe."
"That old Sherlock Holmes stuff, we have all read it Kutty," said Kamakshi, a media personality, one of the few modern women of Kottodi Mukku who drink more than just water, and wear short skirts.
"OK, I will get to the point," said Kutty, "Did you guys spot how the Pakistani bowlers kept one side of the ball shiny and the other rough."
"I expected better from you, every fast bowler does it."
"Oh God! Why do I drink with these morons?" Kutty put on an exasperated look and continued , "The trick is in how they do it. In the past, people have used vaseline, oil on their hair, bottle tops, shoe spikes, some pick the seam of the ball. Now almost all of it is banned."
"OK."
"If you want to learn the fine points of swing bowling, you must watch the Pakistanis bowl," explained a voice from Table No 13.
"Right . He knows it because he is Sekharan Kutty, a bowling coach in these parts," explained the Kutty, the jasoos one.
"Can I ask one doubt? Are all important jobs in this city done by Kutties?" said Georgio, who had come to Kottodi Mukku from Parankimala along with the jasoos.
"Oh, Georgio, that is another story. You see that hill, there…. "
"Yes."
"And there…. Is a river that you can’t see. Every bit of land between the river and the hill was owned by Kutties. "
"Then what happened?"
"Georgio, do you see any poverty around you?"
"No."
"But back then thousands were starving here in Kottodi Mukku for want of kozhi and charayam. That was a time when we had no Soniaji, Modiji and Kejriwalji and of course no Food Security Act."
"OK."
"And one my forefathers said enough is enough. He distributed all his land among the poor. Now every soul here gets three square meals and a quarter of rum or brandy. We are all above the Kudiyan Paramu line of poverty. How that line was fixed is another story, but I will save it for a dry day."
"Kutty you were talking about the Pakistani fast bowling," Sekharan Kutty prodded the jasoos.
"Yeah. So, when this bowler was about to begin his runup, he does all the normal things — spits on the ball, rubs it on his trousers and then … " Kutty let the suspense fill the air.
"And then… "
"He rubbed it on his beard. Now why the f*** would he do that? Especially after spitting so generously on the ball."
"Oh, oh…. Those Pakistanis, I never trust them," said one voice.
"My mind started racing. I decided to dig further. On watching the video again and again, I saw a pattern emerge."
"What?"
"I will tell you that in a bit. Listen to this first," Kutty didn’t like frequent interruptions in his story telling, "I hired a bowler from the galis of Delhi with similar height, weight and looks. You see one can’t take chances when you are conducting an experiment. And then I had to decide the scale to measure the beard’s growth rate. I toyed with the idea of using Finance Minister Arun Jaitley’s formula to calculate growth but decided against it as I wanted accurate readings for my experiment. I settled for the ordinary millimeter scale. And then I made him bowl without shaving, over after over, day after day for two weeks. Just FYI, I used a Camlin protractor to calculate the output – in this case the reverse swing."
"What did you find?"
"I found that after one week you get a beard that is as soft as Kanchipuram silk. No use rubbing on that."
"So what is it then?"
"Three days of growth, that is the right measure, when it is just a stubble, rough enough to cause scratch marks on ball. The essence is you rub only one side of the ball, and keep the other side smooth and shiny. Then see the amount of reverse swing you get."
"But those were lab conditions. How do we know if your findings hold in match conditions?"
"I tested it last Sunday. The final of the local tournament."
"What happened?"
"All my five bowlers took the field with 3-day-old beards. What happened next shocked me out of my wits."
"Aisa kya hua, Kutty and shocked."
"Our rival team – all the eleven players had beards. All of them were rubbing the ball on their cheeks."
"What happened?"
"What was to happen? They won the match. Eleven men with beards produced far more reverse swing than five bowlers with beards. Any way my findings are true."
"How did they get to know about your study?"
"The bowler. He sold it to them for one Old Monk."
There was silence for a while as Kutty went into his brooding mood.
"Kutty cheer up," said Sara, "I still say there was nothing much to what Pakistani bowlers did. It was just an itch."
"Oh, so silly. How can all the Pakistan players have an itch at the same time?"
"Don’t fight over that. I am not troubled by the leak. My findings are true after all."
"Then what are you thinking?"
"I was thinking about what Rega Jha said. Does she still think the Pakistani men are hotter than us. Makes me wonder if Pakistan is waging a love jehad on us."
"See, see," said Shetty, "I told you she was serious."
"Yes, she is wrong and she needs to be told that," said Kora.
"Guys calm down, all is still not lost, read the tweet carefully," said Kutty "She is only saying Pakistani men look hotter than Indian men. She is not questioning the love-making abilities of the Indian male. There is a subtle difference there which you need to acknowledge."
"There goes Kutty again," said Sara, "He and his hare-brained theories."
"No, Kutty is right. We have to do something about it."
"I suggest we move a resolution against Pakistan. Let Kutty draft it."
"No need for such drastic measures. We need to think sharply and act slowly but decisively."
"What do you suggest we do, Kutty?"
"I suggest we send Rega Jha a photo of mine as proof that Indian men are as hot as Pakistanis, if not more. Those in favour say Aye."
"Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes."
"Those against say Nay."
"Nay." "Nay." "Nay."
"I think the Ayes have it, the Ayes have it."
"I want a division," announced newlywed Shetty’s wife, only to drop the demand following a sharp rebuke from her husband.
"Now what if she still doesn’t agree," asked Kora.
"Don’t worry Kora, this country is a democracy, we will just ask the government to ban her."
Jasoos Narayanan Kutty was in his elements as he poured charayam for his clients at Kutty”s Tea & Toddy. After some very eventful and profitable business in Parankimala, where he opened a branch during the football World Cup, he is now back.
Every evening, his shop is filled with customers who love their cricket but love their drinks more. Above all, they adore Kutty and his stories.
"Tell me, what will you remember about this Pakistani team," asked Kutty.
"Afridi, the Dev Anand of the Pakistani cricket team," shouted a woman from one corner of the bar. She was with her boyfriend, a tourist to Kottodi Mukku , where Kutty had opened his latest toddy shop.
"Now you sound like that journalist Rega Jha," objected Shetty. He and his wife were at Kottodi Mukku on their honeymoon. Pure vegetarians, they were forced to eat avial and thoran, while surrounded by carnivores of the worst order. The sort of people who eat beef, yes beef of all things. Every time he ate the mulaku bhajji, he tried to shut out the aroma of beef fry and roast that filled the air.
"What did she say?"
"It is so sad that no matter who wins, Pakistanis will continue to be way hotter than us and we will continue to be their ugly neighbours," said Shetty, "That is what she tweeted."
"Yes, exactly that," Salman agreed.
"I can understand why you are all upset," said Kutty, helping himself to a glass of rum.
"How can she say that?"
"You have to read the tweet again. She begins saying it is sad they are hot," Kutty tried to calm the tempers, "But I don’t know how you missed what happened in that India-Pakistan match."
"What else happened," asked Kora, a carpenter who frequented Kutty’s shop.
"See this is what separates you and me," explained Kutty, "You guys see, I observe."
"That old Sherlock Holmes stuff, we have all read it Kutty," said Kamakshi, a media personality, one of the few modern women of Kottodi Mukku who drink more than just water, and wear short skirts.
"OK, I will get to the point," said Kutty, "Did you guys spot how the Pakistani bowlers kept one side of the ball shiny and the other rough."
"I expected better from you, every fast bowler does it."
"Oh God! Why do I drink with these morons?" Kutty put on an exasperated look and continued , "The trick is in how they do it. In the past, people have used vaseline, oil on their hair, bottle tops, shoe spikes, some pick the seam of the ball. Now almost all of it is banned."
"OK."
"If you want to learn the fine points of swing bowling, you must watch the Pakistanis bowl," explained a voice from Table No 13.
"Right . He knows it because he is Sekharan Kutty, a bowling coach in these parts," explained the Kutty, the jasoos one.
"Can I ask one doubt? Are all important jobs in this city done by Kutties?" said Georgio, who had come to Kottodi Mukku from Parankimala along with the jasoos.
"Oh, Georgio, that is another story. You see that hill, there…. "
"Yes."
"And there…. Is a river that you can’t see. Every bit of land between the river and the hill was owned by Kutties. "
"Then what happened?"
"Georgio, do you see any poverty around you?"
"No."
"But back then thousands were starving here in Kottodi Mukku for want of kozhi and charayam. That was a time when we had no Soniaji, Modiji and Kejriwalji and of course no Food Security Act."
"OK."
"And one my forefathers said enough is enough. He distributed all his land among the poor. Now every soul here gets three square meals and a quarter of rum or brandy. We are all above the Kudiyan Paramu line of poverty. How that line was fixed is another story, but I will save it for a dry day."
"Kutty you were talking about the Pakistani fast bowling," Sekharan Kutty prodded the jasoos.
"Yeah. So, when this bowler was about to begin his runup, he does all the normal things — spits on the ball, rubs it on his trousers and then … " Kutty let the suspense fill the air.
"And then… "
"He rubbed it on his beard. Now why the f*** would he do that? Especially after spitting so generously on the ball."
"Oh, oh…. Those Pakistanis, I never trust them," said one voice.
"My mind started racing. I decided to dig further. On watching the video again and again, I saw a pattern emerge."
"What?"
"I will tell you that in a bit. Listen to this first," Kutty didn’t like frequent interruptions in his story telling, "I hired a bowler from the galis of Delhi with similar height, weight and looks. You see one can’t take chances when you are conducting an experiment. And then I had to decide the scale to measure the beard’s growth rate. I toyed with the idea of using Finance Minister Arun Jaitley’s formula to calculate growth but decided against it as I wanted accurate readings for my experiment. I settled for the ordinary millimeter scale. And then I made him bowl without shaving, over after over, day after day for two weeks. Just FYI, I used a Camlin protractor to calculate the output – in this case the reverse swing."
"What did you find?"
"I found that after one week you get a beard that is as soft as Kanchipuram silk. No use rubbing on that."
"So what is it then?"
"Three days of growth, that is the right measure, when it is just a stubble, rough enough to cause scratch marks on ball. The essence is you rub only one side of the ball, and keep the other side smooth and shiny. Then see the amount of reverse swing you get."
"But those were lab conditions. How do we know if your findings hold in match conditions?"
"I tested it last Sunday. The final of the local tournament."
"What happened?"
"All my five bowlers took the field with 3-day-old beards. What happened next shocked me out of my wits."
"Aisa kya hua, Kutty and shocked."
"Our rival team – all the eleven players had beards. All of them were rubbing the ball on their cheeks."
"What happened?"
"What was to happen? They won the match. Eleven men with beards produced far more reverse swing than five bowlers with beards. Any way my findings are true."
"How did they get to know about your study?"
"The bowler. He sold it to them for one Old Monk."
There was silence for a while as Kutty went into his brooding mood.
"Kutty cheer up," said Sara, "I still say there was nothing much to what Pakistani bowlers did. It was just an itch."
"Oh, so silly. How can all the Pakistan players have an itch at the same time?"
"Don’t fight over that. I am not troubled by the leak. My findings are true after all."
"Then what are you thinking?"
"I was thinking about what Rega Jha said. Does she still think the Pakistani men are hotter than us. Makes me wonder if Pakistan is waging a love jehad on us."
"See, see," said Shetty, "I told you she was serious."
"Yes, she is wrong and she needs to be told that," said Kora.
"Guys calm down, all is still not lost, read the tweet carefully," said Kutty "She is only saying Pakistani men look hotter than Indian men. She is not questioning the love-making abilities of the Indian male. There is a subtle difference there which you need to acknowledge."
"There goes Kutty again," said Sara, "He and his hare-brained theories."
"No, Kutty is right. We have to do something about it."
"I suggest we move a resolution against Pakistan. Let Kutty draft it."
"No need for such drastic measures. We need to think sharply and act slowly but decisively."
"What do you suggest we do, Kutty?"
"I suggest we send Rega Jha a photo of mine as proof that Indian men are as hot as Pakistanis, if not more. Those in favour say Aye."
"Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes." "Ayes."
"Those against say Nay."
"Nay." "Nay." "Nay."
"I think the Ayes have it, the Ayes have it."
"I want a division," announced newlywed Shetty’s wife, only to drop the demand following a sharp rebuke from her husband.
"Now what if she still doesn’t agree," asked Kora.
"Don’t worry Kora, this country is a democracy, we will just ask the government to ban her."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)