Bit of Ramayana in Champions League!

First he cut Shurpnakha's nose. And then he cut a sorry figure in the Mission Sister-in-Law Recovery in Lanka.

I mean you can't really speak highly of someone who bit dust after receiving a KO punch within seconds of his only significant bout against Meghnad with the referee counting beyond the customary 10.

His scruples will tell him that he owes Hanuman a drink after the Great Indian Monkey God -- hope Andrew Symonds reads this piece -- flew in with the restorative.

Imagine Hanuman doing the perfect clean-and-jerk with the mountain and you know who pioneered weightlifting techniques!

But sticking to the point, after 14 years in exile -- an educative one at that -- Lakshman could not be mocked anymore as a lax man.

You can safely say that Lakshman returned from Lanka a much-improved man.

Now consider Laxman.

He used to play T20 with an 'L' sign. But a stint in Lancashire and he now gives Gilchrist an inferiority complex!

It's no less an epic story in which Laxman returns from Lanca, a much-improved man.

Just not cricket!

Gilchrist flays Tendulkar in his autobiography.

Graeme Smith lashes out at his ex-boss Norman Arendse in his diary.

Hadlee rips into Stephen Fleming in his memoir.

Buchanan bashes Tendulkar, Dravid, Ganguly and Ganguly’s cocky cocker spaniel in his book.

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Now where have all those players gone?

As you took guard, revenge would gleam in the bowler's eyes. Merely the wicket won't do. They wanted to see blood on turf.

They were veritable demons who would snarl, bark and holler inside your eardrum at the end of their follow through. Giving you glare and a piece of their mind till you start trembling in your boots and show signs of shrinking.

From the slip cordon will emanate a barrage of ceaseless unflattering allusions to certain members of your family till you blush and cringe enough to miss the line.

But at the end of the day, hostilities would stay behind when they walked off the field to share a banter and beer, hands around each other's shoulders.

More importantly, they bore no grudge. If they had to settle a score, they did it head-on, not hiding behind the jacket of a book.

They did not take mental note of each and every innuendo and returned to the hotel room to dip their nib in poison and then rush to the publisher to market the malice.

Let's admit, they were not peddler of the poison.

Where have all those players gone?

Hayden, from Oz opener to academy opener

Australian cricketers, once done and dusted, have displayed this inexplicable vulnerability to an irresistible urge of doing something in and for India.

I assume it's a desire that spreads like one of those typical Australian bushfire.

Like rashes in summer. Or blogging in Bollywood. Or Twittering among celebrities.

Cricket's history, especially its recent chapters, is littered with such instances.

Steve Waugh has been a father figure to orphans in Kolkata while Adam Gilchrist has extended avuncular warmth towards disabled kids.

And now Matthew Hayden wants to open a cricket academy in Chennai.

He can't open batting anymore, at least for Australia, so why not open an academy?

Once an opener, always an opener.

Duty unto death, if you know what I mean.

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No pretension please, we hate Test cricket

Unless someone calls their bluff and comes up with decisive evidence, Bangladesh have won their second Test match. Please note, their last win came against Zimbabwe in 2005.

And Adam Gilchrist still moans the lack of Olympic spirit in the sub-continent.

Again, unless someone calls the bluff, Bangla Tigers beat West Indies.

Now don't ask how much West Indies. It would suffice to say that the assortment was led by a certain Floyd Reifer who had played his last Test when Bill Clinton was battling 'Monicagate', George W Bush's English grammar classes were confined to Texas and Paris Hilton had just been expelled from school in what was the first concrete sign of becoming the scourge of humanity that she is today.

Now how this win helps Bangladesh, perhaps the biggest sceptic of its own Test status, is beyond me.

And how the defeat helps West Indies Cricket Board to get even with the boycotting players is equally beyond me.

No pretension please. We don't love Test cricket.

Buchanan's boot camp beans spilled!

Adam Gilchrist does not say whether Warne alluded to the female members in John Buchanan's family when he badmouthed the coach.

Gilly, however, does say that spin rivals Warne and Stuart McGill buried their hatchets and turned comrade-in-arms against Buchanan's boot camp idea.

Asked to strip down to the bare minimum, Gilchrist does not disclose his own brand but he 'reveals' Warne's uses 'Playboy' undies, memorably depicted in a UK tabloid.

Gilly tells when asked to deposit 'dependent medication', Mike Hussey handed over asthma inhaler, while Warne reluctantly submitted five packets of Benson & Hedges!

Gilly reveals their media manager, also put through the drill, threw up in a bush but survived to tell the tale.

Gilly divulges three guys had to share "a tin of chunky soup" and "half a loaf of bread" in dinner and there was neither cellphone nor any plump British nurse for Warne.

A grenade went off outside their camp and the cricketers had to run 5 km in pitch dark. While others started unpacking, Warne was busy with his "dependent medication" i.e. Benson & Hedges.

Now, don't tell me you need further reasons to buy "True Colours: My Life" by Adam Gilchrist.

Of sledging, charity and nirvana

* Steve Waugh, Father of the Theory of Mental Disintegration, supports a house for kids of lepers;

* Glenn McGrath, Sheikh of Sledge, champions breast cancer awareness;

* Adam Gilchrist, leading Foulinguist of his era, bats for disabled kids;

...and now...hold your breath...

* Ricky Ponting, cricket's own sledge-hammer, bats for cancer kids.

Trust me, even in the darkest hour, I had never given up. I knew remorse will gnaw at their vitals for all the effing pleasantries these motormouths showered on their opponents. I clung on to the hope that good sense would eventually prevail and once self-realisation enlightens their soul, they would seek atonement.

And they did.

May it rinse, cleans and wash their sins away and help them attain perfect nirvana.

Amen.

Triumph of the Underdog

Nothing pleases me more than the triumph of the Underdog. Since David slew Goliath and Kapil’s Devils did something similar in the 1983 World Cup, the sadist in me has invariably derived some sort of pleasure whenever the unheralded thumbed their nose at their obscenely mighty antagonists.

Deccan Chargers’ victory over Chennai Super Kings may not be a watershed in the history of the game, but it once again elicits the Archie Griffin chestnut – it’s not about the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

Consider this. A meek, bottom-placed bunch, sans their helmsman, entered the lair of an outfit that was table-topper till the other day. They stood not a semblance of chance, it seemed, and still Adam Gilchrist’s comrades-in-arms managed to conjure up something extraordinary to pull the rug from under the feet of their fancied rivals. Stuff of a run-of-the-mill Bollywood potboiler? No, it’s IPL.

Forget it’s just a game of cricket, just a duel between a piece of wood and a hunk of leather. Consider this as a way of life and you see hopes all around. The odds maybe unflattering, the adversary unnerving. But in the end, every dog has its day, more so when it’s an Underdog.

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Cracked Bat Rushed Gilchrist’s Retirement?

Did Adam Gilchrist rush his retirement after his lucky bat cracked?

Probably not. But Gilly is a sad man these days after his Wonder Bat cracked during the Twenty20 tie against India.

Gilly is yet to throw away the broken willow, a Puma Ballistic, and is in fact doing everything to repair it. Considering the loads of runs he scored with it – including that 104-ball 149 in the World Cup final -- he definitely has reasons to cherish it.

The retiring hero reportedly carries just three bats in his kit – a practice bat, a spare one and this one.

It’s not that Gilchrist did not score before laying his hands on it but it definitely is a special piece of wood for him.

Image: Getty Images

A ‘Doosra’ View On Cricket: New Kid Hits Blogosphere

So yet another cricket blog rolls off the block. One may ask WHY? I would say WHY NOT? Being in sports journalism for over seven years doesn’t make me a Peter Roebuck, agreed but it can’t be a handicap either. So love me or hate me, just don’t ignore me.

I want my blog to stand out, and not lost, in a crowd. It will not be just the routine monologue of a cricket buff bitten by the bug. I don’t want it to be as mundane as an Ashley Giles over, all six deliveries threatening to squash leg umpire’s toes. Instead, despite all his off-field vices, it would be like Shane Warne fishing out one after another gem from his magic sac.

Apart from regular stuffs like updates, features, statistics and opinion pieces, this blog will feature EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEWS as well. From witty to whacky and class to crass, I hope my brainchild to be liked by purists and plebian alike. And what better time than to kick off with the World Cup? Great if the Indo-Australian joint venture brings the Cup to India but do put your hands together when Brian Lara caresses it past slip or Adam Gilchrist decides to walk. Happy Reading.