In an otherwise dull dressing room-- VK insists it's Undressing Room -- he sticks out like a sore middle finger.
VK is full off aggro. Can be pig-headed too. Imagine a pighead with a Mohawk on top.
"Fatso, I got no middle name. Just middle finger," he whispered in my ear in our first meeting.
Asked him how he saw my appointment.
And he shrewdly gave me the bird.
"You like my ring?"
He'll make a good vice captain. Has all the vices of a captain.
Advised him "You just need to curb that middle finger. Learn from others."
He warned me not to equate him with team mates.
"Paancho ungliya barabar nahi hote," he said. Obviously giving me the finger to drive home the point.
Poor chap. Couldn't digest the fact that he has to be a floater as long as the seniors are around.
Could have been a good weightlifter as well. Always lifting something -- team performance, spirit, Tendulkar.
Just as we were about to leave our hotel in Australia, VK got down from the bus, walked back to the lobby and suddenly lifted the bellboy.
"Poor dude. Carried the burden of the guests since joining the job. It's time we carried him on our shoulder."
So much so that Tendulkar refuses to share room with him.
"Aila, I don’t want to open my eyes in the night and find myself perched on his shoulder. It’s so unnerving."