An Insider's Guide to MICA

I don’t like cricket. Despite being an Indian. I don’t understand the game.  I don’t know the difference between a silly point and, let’s say, the third man. I never understood the concept of sitting in front of a television for one full day just to watch a game – and FIVE days, in a certain format. I’m into F1 and Lawn Tennis, where a few hours is all you need to enjoy your sport and then carry on with your life. I’m so disconnected to the sport that cricket is, that I never was involved in the MICA Cricket League in any capacity. The only game of cricket I remember playing was a league match in an inter-school tournament – where I was a last minute replacement for someone – and couldn’t notch up the required 3 runs for what was supposed to be an easy victory.

So when I was happily lazing around the house this morning, when a friend informed me of Sachin Tendulkar’s retirement from ODIs – the first thing that I felt was numb – numb and empty. I quickly plugged the laptop and Googled Sachin – quickly scouring every single piece of news articles Google had to offer. Apart from the usual suspects, I was surprised to find an article on Sachin’s retirement on Al Jazeera too.

I’ve never watched Sachin bat, not live at least. Barring the 2003 world cup semifinal against Pakistan, which clashed with my birthday on 1st of March, and we’d gone for a dinner in some restaurant that had the game going on. So why did I feel the way I felt when Sachin retired?

My earliest memories of passive association with the sport revolves around one question – and one assurance. Whenever a game of cricket was on - especially ODIs - whatever the score on the board by the opposition, I always heard people ask each other – “Sachin hai na abhi?” – the question. And “Haan hai abhi. Jeet jaayenge.” – the assurance. Even when we didn’t really win quite a few of those games, the question – and the reassuring replies were always the same. I always wondered, what can possibly happen if Sachin gets out without putting too may runs on the board – there will always be a Jadeja or an Azharuddin or someone who can score as well – afterall that’s the reason why THEY are in the team in the first place! Amul answered this rather blatantly, with its tongue-in-cheek manner, which is also one of my first memories of an Amul print ad. The ad said “Ten-do. Ten don’t.”

The next few instances that I came across Sachin was through his early endorsements – Colgate Total and VISA. What was strikingly different in these ads was that while other celebrities cried themselves hoarse going ga-ga over the brand, Sachin never needed to say more than maybe a “VISA power. Go get it.” Or maybe an “Aila!” in one of those ads for Pepsi. That was the kind of credibility his mere presence lent to a brand. I was amazed.

There was this other centre spread print ad by Fiat – when they launched the ill-fated Siena in India – featuring Sachin. Those were the times when as a growing boy, I had found my love for cars and devoured anything that even mentioned C-A-R. The ad showed a smartly dressed Sachin and went on to explain that “Sachin is wearing a pashmeena pullover over a superknit cotton shirt. He teams it up with 3-pleated corduroy trousers and suede loafers.” And in the background, as if apologetically, was a picture of the Siena with the copy reading “The new Siena wears Italian leather on its steering, with 4-ply stitching on the gearknob. It teams it up with a 90 PS petrol engine – and completes the look with Italian flair – that’s a trademark of Fiat.” I’ve, in fact, just made up most of the copy for the Siena because I don’t remember any of it – and the part that described how Sachin was dressed remains deeply etched somewhere in the recesses of the brain.

Or, when Fiat decided to launch the Palio, the TVC showed Sachin randomly driving the car around - and then an aerial shot shows him actually carving out a “S-a-c-h-i-n” on a cricket field through his driving. Not once did the ad talk of the car as a product. THAT was the credibility he commanded.

I’ve known people like Ankit Garg, a dear friend, who would kill for a chance to meet Sachin – and when he FINALLY got a chance to shake hands with the man, refused to wash his hands! THAT was the awe he inspired.

Sachin has caused people to become experts in medical conditions like Tennis Elbow. Ask anyone walking down the road about Tennis Elbow, and he’d have heard of it – simply because Sachin suffered from it once upon a time. THAT was the interest he generated.

I kept on hearing stories of how Shane Warne had nightmares of Sachin chasing him down the pitch for a six, or of how Sir Don Bradman saw a hint of himself in Sachin, or how a Caribbean umpire was hated by an entire nation because he wrongly judged Sachin to be out, or how agonizingly close we came to winning the world cup in 2003 despite all of Sachin’s heroics, or of  how Sachin, quite fittingly, became the man to breach the 200-barrier in the 40 year young format that ODI is, or how Matt Hayden famously said “I’ve seen God. He bats at Number Four for India.”, or how Barack Obama possibly wondered “the productivity of economic activities in my country slow down because this man’s batting”, or the folklore of Mr. Achrekar and his game of coins while fine tuning the genius of Sachin, or how the man was losing his touch, or how he was becoming a burden on the cricket team – which people wouldn’t really have cared for if he hadn’t painstakingly over a course of two decades helped build. Or of people badmouthing the man who gave them reasons to believe in something, reasons to be happy, reasons to rejoice, reasons to celebrate. Reasons to unite.

I’ve always encountered Sachin outside the cricket ground – through advertisements and sports columns in newspapers, and through friends who just wouldn’t stop talking of him, and through Cricinfo – that has such a heady collection of quotes on the man himself, by many, many other greats of the game. And I’ve always wondered – why has it always been Sachin and never Rahul or Sourav or Anil. All of them are unparalleled in their own ways – but none was as familiar to people as “Sachin”. As personal as “Sachin”. As owned as “Sachin”.

I’ll miss hearing about Sachin.

- Pulak Narain (PGP-17)

i-am-a-big-girl-now:

When you are living away from home, in a campus surrounded by hundreds like you, when you look for an escape, there is only one, Home. 

Being surrounded by people all the time, gets claustrophobic, small things start to annoy you. Especially when an impeding annual cattle show, aka the placement week is around the corner. True colours start to come out, and the only thing you want to do is escape. 

To bed.

To home. 

To your dog. 

To undergraduate college.

To the inane story of a sitcom or television drama.

So, now when I am home, I don’t want to go back. Where, friendship gets redefined in group discussions, where happiness for others is forgotten, all for 3 letters, CTC. 

So, I will cuddle into my quilt, I will watch an inane television drama and forget myself. Because that is all I can do, to save the friendships and relations I have made here. Because they are more important than those stupid three letters. 

We share your sentiment. Through and through. Take heart. Placements will be over in a month, hopefully. Then maybe life goes back to normal? (crosses fingers)

10 am is otherwise a dull, droopy eyed hour. But AXN’s Dusty Trail shook us alive. With a list of forty spots/sights/subjects to be clicked began an electrifying pursuit. I hadn’t seen Shela around, beyond the much celebrated and much spoken about canal. I’d missed observing the styles of architecture, temples painted pink, 1951 engraved on bricks. I’d heard the arzaan while playing tennis everyday, but today saw where the calming sound travelled from.

The dullness went with the dusty wind and the droopy eyes got washed up with the waters splashed from the pool across the entwining path to the banyan tree. The trail stood to its promise of thrill.

Trail Finders, Team Bhokaal, WTFaqirs, Pinky and the Brain, Shaktimen, Maskabun & Xtra cheese, Pehla Micalal were few of the racers racing to get the first glimpse of a cow with Krishna on it, a mobile recharge shop, a gas cylinder, a burnt field. Who inscribes 2012 on the walls of their newly constructed house? They surely see posterity holding up their two room site as ancestral legacy. Oh! And Rani Mahal, what a chase one had for the queen’s bungalow, aptly named so, or may be not.

The children chased along with us, the men gave directions, women left their half washed garments to pose that smile and dogs? Dogs bark. With flour, grime, cow dung, little temple turmeric, grease, sweat and broadest smiles on faces dusty trail round 2 saw the finish line!

- Lost MICAndidature

Would you like to be able to make cup idlis? Wherein you add hot water and out pop two steaming hot idlis ready for consumption. That was the most interesting idea sold to the three judges of the event called Global Tadka – a marketing event that wants teams to sell indigenous products to a foreign market. Can we have one of those available on campus too? A respite from Maggi would be nice, especially in a place that is so far away from civilization.

- Lost MICAndidature

Bhurji pao, bhurji pao, bhurji pao…

And he squeezed half a lemon on a platter of some sev. The other one broke my vow of having less of fat; I was tricked into having sumptuous choco-pies with luxurious amount of cheese spread onto it.

The otherwise cold red academic complex of the Seminar Halls caught up some action with piping hot battle on an eat-street. The first round of Micanvas’ flagship event, Last Manager Standing saw twenty four participants in six groups on a Food Fight. Pitching for maximum sales and luring the afternoon crowd for a snack The Sweet Tooth, Bhel Bhulaiya, Cheese Bomb, Sev ‘n Noodles, Savouries put up their little stalls of salt and sugar.

Hooting, shouting, screaming for a 20 buck plate of masala puri the tie collared managers fired up the air around. A cheer for all those around, and a thrilling round for the participants, the first round of LMS was an absolute treat. With the appropriate pinch of chat masala sprinkled; we wish the best taste remain for long.

- Lost MICAndidature 

Last Manager Standing (LMS) has the highest prize money among all the events in Micanvas. It is no surprise then that it attracted a bunch of wily students trying to make a quick buck and disrupt the proceedings.

The task at hand for the participants was to bid for raw food materials (jam, chocolate, bread, etc.) and sell a finished product for a profit. Some of the products on sale were MICAn tukda, Rock ‘n Roll, Lamborghini Sandwich, Ultimate Sandwich, Chocolate Bedspread, Chandni Chowk to China, Sita-Gita, etc. They catered to people who were conscious about their weight with Farmer’s Fresh Salad and Light on Heart, and the in house MICAns, playing on common nicknames that students have like Mr. Delicious takes a Dip, TFR Roll, Manishk Dhamaka and Footy at 5.

The interesting bit however was this little stall set up on three cartons on the side. They were buying food from Chhota (the 24 hr canteen on campus) and selling it at half price, much lesser than the items that were available on sale by the participants. While they didn’t make a profit, they sure attracted lot of attention. If only they had an eco student on board! *sigh*

- Lost MICAndidature

It had just gotten over. Anand Halve had just ended speaking on minimalism.

“I liked it when he spoke about simplifying complicated solutions.”

“Ah! Simply loved his LBD example; wow! Elegance is in refusal.”

“Yeah!” 
“There’s time for dinner. Where are you going? Where are we going?”

“Oh hell! Where are we walking?”

“Palaash, for now I guess”

It was dark; it was half past seven and it was right after a lecture, right like everyday. But it was hardly like any other day. We trudged towards our rooms to simply fall on our beds. Reality bit! We had no beds, we had no rooms. We were lost. We had nowhere to go and plonk ourselves and then decide where to go.

The minutes of the day fell in a sequence as I remembered the action. Micanvas was here as PGP-1 vacated Palaash and Parijat for the guests – participants from across the country. We’d packed a bag for four days. We’d holed up everything in our cupboards to lock them up. Oh! The room had never been cleaned since we’d last packed for the term break. I found my lost pen-drive and Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss that I’d abruptly lost during chapter 7, under my bed.

The daily dose of excitement for the day was in jumping over the stocked up pillows from the first floor. Hooting, cheering and motivating, some laughed, some winced in pain and some just shivered like a dry autumn leaf hanging from the parapet. 

Little did we realize that our exodus from Palaash and Parijat would yield such an interesting time in hostels all around at our seniors’. With just a minimalistic gadda that we lumbered, the joy of being the hosts and the guests at the same time has been immense.

-Lost MICAndidature