A date with death and a man called Bob

“Excuse me Sir,” this to the man who was visibly shaken. “Are you ok?”

Given what the man had witnessed, it was clearly a very stupid question. Normally, such questions deserve equally stupid answers. But fortunately, the man was too upset and shaken to notice.

“Terrible, Man! I just saw this man fall out of that building and plunge to his death! See his body over there lying in a pool of blood? Terrible Man, Terrible!”

So this man had witnessed the act of dying. Good! Having never witnessed it myself, maybe I could use his experience to understand this phenomenon. I might be able to find out if there were any visible signs of a happening at that precise moment of impact that can provide some insight into the mechanics of the transition between life and death.

I know that this incident was least conducive to such an observation. Slow death in a quite room is a more appropriate circumstance. But I had to make the most of what I had. Besides, I never loose an opportunity to discuss death, or the act of dying, and this was as good as it gets. In fact, the other day, I even had an interesting discussion about it with the beautiful girl in the office, though the intentions were entirely different.

You see, I was trying to break the ice. Ok, I agree it sounds like a stupid idea, but at that time it seemed like the most logical thing to do. After all, I fancied her a lot and had been trying to strike a meaningful conversation with her for three months so when the first after-office-hours-two-of-us-alone opportunity did present itself, I wasn't going to let it pass. Not being the kind of person who likes to waste his time with meaningless gibberish, I came straight to the point.

“What do you think of Death?”

“Why?”

“I was reading this interesting article on life after death, and wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, to begin with, it’s inevitable, isn’t it?”

Great! This was getting somewhere. Having established that she had an excellent understanding of the subject, I was tempted to persue this line of conversation further. But sanity prevailed as I decided that this wasn’t the time for intellectual masturbation. Instead, I needed to stick to a more conventional line of conversation that was both meaningful and mature.

Within no time I knew she liked listening to Robbie Williams, loved dancing and more importantly, was free on Friday. I also happened to be free on Friday, or would be once I told my mates that football was off. Fixing a time and venue to meet was the easy part.

Simple! The ice was broken. So talking to her about death wasn’t such a stupid idea after all. In fact, I am sure I would not have made as much progress had I come straight to the point and told her of my feelings and intentions up front.

“Listen, I fancy you a lot and was wondering if we could go out this Friday.”

“What?”

“Yes, a date, if you wish to call it that! In fact it would be great if we could go down to your place for the night! After all, I virtually strip you naked every time I see you, and it would be great to get to see the real thing.”

Without even going down that path, I know this line of conversation would have been a cocktail for disaster.

On the other hand, I could now have a similar conversation with her over dinner and get away with it, and a lot more.

The right wine, and a candle-light dinner make “I like you a lot. You are lovely” sound so romantic. And “Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee” is so less obvious. In fact, later in the bed, I could even tell her about the stripping naked thing. “I have wanted to make love to you ever since I saw you.” Just had to make sure to throw in the ‘It’s the way you make me feel’ bit immediately afterwards.

Men are bastards! Women just make it harder by pretending that they aren’t aware of it.

And truth prevails! But only if it backed up by a good timing and the right choice of words.

Anyway, we did go out on Friday, but never once discussed death or the non-existent article that I was reading. What followed after that was an interesting relationship, but I will pass that for now. Sorry to disappoint here, but we have more important matters to discuss right now.

So death isn’t all bad, especially if you can use it to your advantage. Come on, don’t think I am sick. I didn’t kill anybody, neither did I hurt anybody’s sentiments by referring to any person or body. Look around you. Doctors, Lawyers, Politicians, Media, Social workers, Terrorists, everyone is cashing in on death. It has become a booming industry. In fact, it is the only thing that is likely to survive a global recession.

And all I did was use it to satisfy the basic male instinct, of wanting to love and be loved.

Back to the visibly shaken man who, in case you have forgotten, had just witnessed the act of dying.

I knew I was going to ask him a delicate question, so I had to phrase it carefully. I was in no mood to get a visual description of what had happened. Don’t have a stomach for such things. At the same time, I hate meaningless conversation, and was not willing to have one now. In fact, I do get into trouble at my workplace every now and then because of my reluctance to be part of any meaningless conversations. An example:

Colleague shuts down his computer, puts on his jacket and, to everyone within earshot (as he heads towards the door) “I am off guys, See you tomorrow!”

And everyone within earshot, almost in unison, “Bye! See you.” Everyone, except me.

Me: “Oh Are you? I thought you just wanted to cool your computer and take your jacket for a walk. And for some strange reason I thought we will not see you tomorrow! Thanks for letting us know the obvious!”

And people think I am a smart-ass!

Anyway, again back to the visibly shaken man. The saner part of my brain requested me to stick to a more obvious line of conversation. The inquisitive part, however, had other ideas!

Guess who won?

“Sorry Sir, I can see that you are visibly shaken, but can you explain what you just said?”

“What?”

“You said you saw this man fall, and a minute later you saw his body! I am trying to understand what happened to him!”

“Are you stupid or what? Can’t you see his body. He’s dead!”

So he was upset and thought I was stupid! Why? Maybe he did not understand my question. It’s pretty obvious he is dead. I was only interested in the cause and explanation of his death, not the events that lead to it. All I wanted to know was what happened to him when he died. The visibly shaken man’s words seem to imply that at the time of impact, something happened that caused the man to turn into a body.

Before I proceed further, I think it will get a bit tedious if I keep on referring to the man as the visibly shaken man all the time, right? Let’s give him a name. Any name. What about Robert? That’s good. Robert Johnson. Better still, lets stick to American protocol and call him Bob! In fact, since there might be other meaningless men who might feature in my story making meaningful contributions, let’s refer to all of them as Bob! Only need to take care that two Bob’s don’t feature in this story at the same time. Don’t worry about that. It’s my story, I will handle it. And to the entire Bob community out there, apologies if I have, or am about to hurt your sentiments. This is not a reflection of what you are truly worth or represent!

Back to Bob, the visibly shaken one, I mean!

Bob was upset at me, and thought I was stupid! Was it because our line of conversation did not stick to the obvious? Something like:

“Oh! I am so sorry! Did you know this guy?”

“No I didn’t, but it was terrible man!”

“Can you explain what you saw?”

And on he would go to describe something that I have no stomach for. Time to move on.

“See you Bob!”

“Bob? Who the f@#k said my name was Bob?”

So I would have upset him anyway! Was it because Bob, or whoever, did not hear what he wanted to. Maybe all he wanted were words of sympathy for having witnessed the horrific death of a person he had never met. So I guess it wasn’t what I said, but rather what I didn’t, that upset him. Or maybe, he was just looking for a reason to be upset.

I think Bob would have been upset, no matter what. I don’t think asking his name the first time around would have helped either. I would have forgotten it anyway. As a rule, I never ask a person’s name if I am not sure we will meet again. I always prefer to leave the name-exchange ceremony for the second meeting. I hope you agree that “Hey! We met last week, remember! My Name’s Bob! What’s yours?” is a lot less embarrassing then engaging in a conversation with a person whose name you can’t remember! It gets worse when your girl friend walks in just as soon as nameless man leaves your side.

“Where’s Bob?”

“Bob?”

“Yes, my brother! I saw him by your side a minute ago!”

“Ah Bob! I think he just went to the loo.” Thank God his name was as obvious as Bob!

Now before I proceed, I realize I can't call every meaningless person I meet Bob. Apart from upsetting a whole lot of Bob’s, it wouldn’t be politically correct. Let me explain.What if the next Bob I meet is European? Would it not be appropriate to call him Rob? And if he happens to be German, should I not refer to him as Rob Wolfgange? Or just Wolfgange? And Jean-Paul for a Frenchman, Alberto for an Italian, Pedro for a Spaniard. And let’s not forget the English? Billy? And if he has been knighted, Sir William. Good, but I cannot assume that every meaningless person I refer to is White or Christian. Let’s not forget the Chinese, Indian, Japanese, Afghans, Russians, Turkish etc. And Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, etc. Lets move on.
Lee for a Chinese, Sukomo for a Japanese, Mohammed for a Muslim. Given the regional nuances in India, it needs special attention. Rajiv for a North Indian, Patel for a Gujarati, and Krishna Moorthy for a South Indian.

This is exciting. Once I am done with the men, I will move to the women. Though I may have only scratched the surface, I feel I am getting somewhere. Or am I? Sorry guys, I am just trying to make sure that every region, country and religion had a representation here. On second thoughts, this might take too long and get confusing. Besides, will it really matter? These guys are meaningless, so who they are and where they come from is not relevant. All that interests me is their contribution to the story.

What if I refer to Bob, the visibly shaken man and all such men in this story as X. Mr. X, out of respect, especially since I might manage to upset a few along the way. And Ms. Y for all the women. It is important that we distinguish between the two genders. More on that later. For now, having established the identity of the visibly shaken man, or Bob, let’s move on.

I was not willing to offer Mr. X any sympathy for witnessing the death of a person he had never met. Let alone ask him name. All I wanted to do was to understand something that concerns me. After all, I was going to die, and it wouldn’t harm to be prepared for it. And in the process I upset Mr. X, for whatever reasons.

Anyway, I was not upset. In fact, I was more then satisfied. Even though he did not answer my question directly, his words just confirmed what I had come to believe for some time now.

By referring to the falling man and his body as two separate entities, he helped me culminate a thought process that had started a few years ago with a stupid question that popped in my head while watching a movie. I remember it was a gangster movie, but can’t recall the name.

“Boss, we killed him”

“Great, what about his body?”

“We will get rid of it tonight!” That’s it! I could not concentrate on the movie after that! All I could think of was that if they killed him, and still had the body, then what happened to him?

Now I have my answer, which also seems to be the universally excepted fact, though there is some confusion and ambiguity about this. For example take the ritual that immediately follows death: The funeral.

If death is the mere separation of the soul from the body, then isn’t a funeral just a sophisticated way of disposing off the body? If so, then why the fuss over how you dispose the body. Burn it! Bury it! Does it matter? Isn’t it another meaningless ritual to tell the rest of the world, ‘We are different?’

We don’t seem to agree on how to live. Can’t we at least agree on death?

The History of the Dying Game

No need to write the obituary yet, but I have enough reason to believe that the game of cricket is dying, and has been for some time. No, I haven’t conjured this piece of information to create either sensation or panic. In fact, my statement is based on comments and views expressed by established and bona fide experts in the field of cricket over the years.

Now, according to pundits, many international sports have perished and continue to do so from time to time, so cricket is not unique in this respect. Remember the death of Tennis in the 80’s with the arrival of better racquets and the boom-boom servers? Or the recent predicted demise of Formula one in America due to a farce over tyres? And apparently, for the most oxymoronic reasons, excess money is killing English Football these days! With most of this money coming mainly from rich (very rich actually) Russian and American business tycoons, Old Trafford and Stamford bridge are all set to become the next battlefields in the cold war. Who in his right mind would want to watch a game of football under these circumstances, right?

However, what makes cricket different from the above is that it has been a dying sport right from its very inception. And over the years, whether due to boredom, overexposure, or just pain old cynicism, the game has always been under attack and doubts have always been expressed over its chances to survive in the long term.

While the Aussies had to travel a great distance to kill the English game back in 1882, the Americans didn’t have to travel at all to do the same to West Indian cricket in the late 90’s. Beaming American sports via Satellite TV was enough to kill a sport considered by many to be a religion in that region.

Anyway, I wonder that if defeat by a mere eight run was enough to kill the game in England more then a century ago, what will it take to kill it in Bangladesh today? And what goes through the mind of the Bangladesh supporters? I guess something like “Should never have been born or conceived to begin with”. But again, you can’t argue with the guys who felt that the introduction of Bangladesh to Test cricket was essential to ensure the longevity of the game. After all, with so few countries playing the game, it did not make sense to keep all eggs in one or a few baskets. Somebody forgot to tell them that a few in the face work just as well.

Going back to the 1930’s, while plans to eliminate a few odd million were still on the drawing board in Germany, a group of Englishmen went about their task of methodically killing the spirit of the game. “Bodyline”, they called it. Not only will it kill someone, but if not stopped in time, it will be the end of cricket, and all other relations between England and Australia. Watching Harmison dish out the similar nasty stuff on the first day of the Ashes series, I wondered why the Aussies even bothered the first time around. After all, apart from a split cheek or two, and a few broken bones, nobody has ever died, have they?

Can’t recall the death of cricket in the 40’s or 50’s but I am sure the game couldn’t have survived in the 60’s. After all, pretty much everything pre-60’s, from music to morals, died in that decade, so what chance did poor old cricket have. Dull boring draws played in white clothes didn’t help either. Come to think of it, Powerplays and Supersubs made more sense in that decade. After all, the times were right to experiment with stupid and meaningless things anyway.

While I mention Powerplay and Supersubs, I am tempted to use another American word as it seems to have a natural association, especially in context to cricket. Allow me (please) before I continue to throw a bit of light on the history of this dying game.

Yuck!

Wow, feels better already. Ironically, this is also the word that comes to mind whenever I think of the medicine my mom use to give me when I was a kid – yes, the same one with a red label! I am sure my mom meant well, but sometimes I wonder if it was at all necessary to subject me to that torture in the first place. After all, the medicine only helped in getting rid of the cold in a week, which would have gone in seven days anyway.

Occasionally, you do come across some guys, long hair, guitar in hand (the works basically), who will look across the haze of smoke and convince you that everything, cricket included, died after the 60’s and life hasn’t been worth living after that. The fact that most of these guys were born in the 70’s is an entirely different matter.

However, it was not the lack of Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll in the 70’s that did cricket in, but a guy who had the vision to turn cricket into a professional sport. That was it, the final nail in the coffin. Cricket was about to become a circus played under lights with white balls and coloured clothes. Kerry’s boys may or may not have indulged in all the aforementioned niceties, but they did now how to play at night and got loads of money for doing it. While there was a consensus, amongst the experts that is, that this novelty would soon die down, these same guys were concerned that it would kill game overall. After all, the last thing people wanted was rich players and packed stadiums.

And so the demise of Test cricket continued from the 70’s right through the 80’s and 90’s with Apartheid, Indo-Pak relations and English weather playing their part in ensuring it’s slow demise. And though we are only half way into this decade, we hear that One-day cricket is about to die at the hands of Test cricket and Twenty20 cricket!

Funny enough, this strange phenomenon of death has not spared the various disciplines of the game either. The art of fast bowling perished when Fred Trueman hung his boots and it continued to do so in subsequent years with a whole lot of bowlers from around the world.

Obviously wicket keeping ceased to be an art after Alan Knott took off his gloves, and spin had little chance once the Indian trio of Bedi, Chandra and Prasanna called it a day. Actually, the art of leg-spin bowling did revive for a few years in to 80’s with the likes of Abdul Qadir, but then a 16-year old came along, and in one over killed the art once and for all. And I don’t have to look into a crystal ball to predict the demise of leg spin (again) in a year or two when Shane Warne retires. Talk about a cat having seven lives!

I am not sure about fielding but the genuine all-rounder did perish after Imran, Kapil and Botham left the scene. And yes, how can I forget the master of all deaths; the art of captaincy after Mike Brearley. Remember Steve Waugh anyone?

So you see, cricket has always been a dying game, but I wouldn’t worry too much. Somehow, I have a funny feeling the game will outlive all of us. After all, we have the experts or custodians of the game who continue to come up with all kind of remedies to prevent the demise of the game. Dare I mention Powerplay and Supersubs again? Or are they already forgotten in the midst of the demise of English cricket after the first ball after tea on the first day of the first Ashes Test Match this summer.

Anyway, leave you all to ponder over the future of the game, while I pray for a quick demise of Australian cricket. After all, the history of the game tells me that mortality ensures longevity.