Exclusive: Sourav Ganguly interview

Doosra interviewed Sourav Ganguly at Eden Gardens soon after he became the CAB president.

As his wont, dada was two hours late for the interview but he sort of made up with his frank views on Bengal and Indian cricket.

He chewed his nails throughout the interview until he was sufficiently manicured.

The tangled mass of assorted chains and lockets also made an appearance as he undid the first two buttons of his shirt which he, despite occasional provocations, did not take off or swirl.

We produce the interview verbatim below:

Doosra: Ah, here you are. We thought you won’t turn up at all.
Sourav Ganguly: Sorry, I’m late but don’t you think you should have got used to it by now? Bhagwan ke ghar der hain andher nahi. And you forgot they called me God of the off-side?

Doosra: Well, you have a point there, and a gully as well. Anyway, how does it feel to be the boss of Bengal cricket?
SG: Long ago, I asked “aapne dada ko bhule to nahin?” They proved they have not. I thank them for making me CAB boss though, honestly, I expected to lead ICC if not the UN. Anyway, CAB is a good launchpad I guess.

Doosra: So what are your plans for Bengal cricket?
SG: I promise a swift turnaround in Bengal cricket. They won’t have to wait for it like Steve Waugh had to wait for me at toss (bursts into laughter).

Doosra: Many expect you to identify youngsters who would form the nucleus of the future Bengal team, just as you did as Team India captain.
SG: I’m glad you asked this question. Well, I have decided Sehwag, Yuvraj, Kaif, Bhajji and Zaheer will form the core of the future Bengal team.

Doosra: What! But they are nearly done with competitive cricket and they play for other states!
SG: Sorry, I meant Sehwag junior, Yuvraj junior, Bhajji junior...See, it’s an ambitious, unprecedented project. Sehwag is so pissed off with Delhi that he won’t mind even if his son plays for Andaman Nicobar in Ranji Trophy. We have convinced Bhajji to get married soon and talks are on with Yuvraj as well to graduate from pie-chucker to bachelorhood-chucker. These are the baby steps for revival of Bengal cricket, if you know what I mean (winks).

Doosra: Quite radical, one must say.
SG: Yes, and if the plan materialises, it would rob other states of their own talents and enrich Bengal. So you can say I’m killing two Dickie Birds with one Sharon Stone -- I picked it from Sidhu, by the way.

Doosra: Hope you realise that cricket administration is not going to be a bed of roses. There will be people resisting every step. How do you plan to tackle them?
SG: Chappal se nahi, Chappell se maarunga. I will treat them like I used to treat left-arm spinners. You don’t worry about that.

Doosra: And what about Shah Rukh Khan?
SG: What about him?

Doosra: I mean he treated you badly at KKR, stripping you of captaincy then kicking you out of the team. Are we going to see him being banned at Eden Gardens just like he was at Wankhede?
SG: Don’t be silly. We are grown up men. I have put the entire KKR episode behind me. However, other members decided Shah Rukh will have to walk on his hands every time he wants to enter Eden Gardens, balancing an egg on a spoon in his mouth and two lighted candles on his soles. Well, I can’t always ignore majority view, you see. (winks)

Doosra: What are the reforms you have in mind for Bengal cricket?
SG: To improve our running between-the-wicket, we plan to abolish it altogether. We want our future generation batsmen to score only with 4s and 6s. We commissioned a study that suggests taking singles and twos significantly impedes a batsman’s ability to hit 4s and 6s in the same over, apart from greatly enhancing run-out risks. I agree, it’s not worth the risk.

Doosra: There is a rumour that your wife would be roped in as the team’s batting consultant. That’s not true for sure?
SG: What’s wrong with that? Dona will help our batsmen get their footwork right. Against the spinners, they need to come dancing down the track and who better than a professional dancer to teach them how to do it? Also she gets bored at home knitting sweater for me and the kids.

Doosra: And why did CAB choose Salman Khan, of all people, as the brand ambassador?
SG: I suspect you’re not aware of it but taking off shirt is universally recognized as a cathartic exercise, and my experience is no different. Modern cricket is much more stressful and the players need an outlet for their pent-up angst. Look at Salman, he has got into all sorts of troubles and still remains sane because he frequently goes topless. Besides, we wanted to tap into his hit-and-run experience. (winks)

Doosra: What is your immediate target as CAB chief?
SG: To get Ashok Dinda back down to earth. Poor lad, has leapt so high since his last delivery that got awkwardly stuck in one of the trees in maidan. Fire Brigade guys have reached there with ladder etc. Maybe we need to fill his boots with stones to keep him grounded or tether him to the stumps.

Doosra: And what’s your long-term target as the boss of Bengal cricket?
SG: To lead Bengal to a position where BCCI and eventually ICC will beg for CAB membership.

Sugarpova Effect: 8 Indian Cricketers And Their Potential Brand Surnames

A recent NASA study reveals only two human voices reach Mars – the first being Arnab Goswami’s when he’s collaring the Newshour debate with aplomb; and the second, Maria Sharapova’s grunt when she is whacking the ball.

The tennis tsarina, and I’m not talking about Mr Goswami, recently appealed to a Florida court seeking to temporarily change her surname to ‘Sugarpova’ for the duration of the US Open before abandoning the marketing stunt.

For the uninitiated, Sugarpova is the candy line Sharapova owns

In the end, Maria Sugarpova didn’t materialise. In fact, the poor richest female athlete pulled out of US Open with a shoulder injury.

Taking it from there, Doosra lists eight Indian cricketers and what should have been their natural brand surnames.




1. Sourav Scholl: When things got tense, Sourav Ganguly chewed his nails as if they were Greg Chappell. Legend has it Scholl patterned their nail-clipper after Dada.

2. Rohit Maggi: The first joke an average Indian kid learns is that you put maggi two-minute noodles on oven when Rohit Sharma walks out to bat and serve it hot when he’s back in the pavilion.



3. Shikhar Moustache: Shikhar Dhawan possesses contemporary cricket’s most famed handlebar and Moustache jeans can’t sign a better person to revive the brand that was fairly popular in small-time towns.



4. Harbhajan KFC: Even his detractors would admit he was a ‘Finger-licking good’ spinner before being reduced to a thumb-sucking has-been.

5. Ajit Nokia: Ajit Chandila has been connecting people so that they could fix IPL matches.

6. Sir Ravindra Good Knight: He is as efficient as the mosquito repellent brand. Has also assumed Knighthood without waiting for the queen to confer one on him.

7. Mahendra Singh Pawan Hans: There is a general consensus even among the armed forces that Dhoni manufactures India’s best helicopters.



8. Virat Cisco: If you closely look at the Cisco logo, it resembles human digits with two rather outsized middle fingers, jutting out as if Virat Kohli’s.

P.S. The Bounce list of T20 cricketers who might change their surnames is here.

When Santa met Bhajji!

When two boisterous men, both bearded to the teeth and turbaned to the gills, come together with Christmas in the air, bear hugs and mutual backslapping are expected to be the order of the day.

But at times, even the most perfect of scripts go awry and what follows is something starting with a P and has a demon in it. I think Pandemonium is the word I'm groping for, unless it's one of those chemical elements which sign off with an 'ium'.

So when Santa Clause met Bhajji, one expected them to hit it off like a house on fire. Instead, it turned out to be a harrowing experience for Father Christmas.

Bhajji was in a foul mood. In his elements, if you insist.

In contrast, Santa had enough warmth in his voice to force another Copenhagen as he greeted Bhajji.

"Merry Christmas!"

The bonhomie was somewhat missing on Bhajji's part.

"Oye Papaji, mind your language. Has your Pyo brought the exclusive rights that you go about the town claiming 'Meri Christmas'? If you don't want me to box your ear, tell 'It's Everybody's Christmas'."

Santa shielded his bafflement with a patronizing smile.

"Well, it's everybody’s Christmas of course."

Bhajji sort of relented but clearly wasn't convinced of the stranger's bona fide.

"That's better. By the way, haven't seen you earlier. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Santa Clause."

Bhajji's eyes bulged again.

"Santa what?"

What followed immediately is the experience I have undergone more than once in my childhood.

It's the standard modus operandi of the neighbourhood bullies to grab you by your arm, twist it as if it's a doorknob and pull it up like a lever till it's horizontal to the terra firma – thus pre-empting any resistance – before planting some of the juiciest on your defenceless back.

More than the assault itself, its suddenness had unnerved Santa and emanating from the depth of his facial undergrowth was an assortment of Err, Hey, Oh, Ouch, Stop, What-the-Hell before he finally managed to free himself from the vice-like grip.

Massaging his mangled arm, Santa sounded less genial as he instituted an inquiry.

"What the hell...I mean why did you attack me? You nearly yanked my arm off!"

Panting after his attempt at disarmament of the opponent, Bhajji was clearly baffled by his naivety.

"Why I beat you? Santa CLAUSE! Must be a relative of that *&%$#@ Whereabout Clause. Don't I know you have a bottle in your sack and you have been shadowing me all along to see when I relieve myself?"

Last remnants of geniality gone from his eyes — and honestly one could not blame him – Santa finally exercised some authority.

"Stop it, you moron. I don't know what the hell you are gibbering about. See, there is no bottle in my sack."

Bhajji was clearly shaken. At least stirred, if not shaken altogether.

"You mean you don't even know Whereabout Clause? I'm sorry then. No hard feelings, ok? See I slapped Sreesanth also and he too made peace later. We exchange dance steps now. You know what? Lalit Modi had actually threatened to auction us, not in IPL but among the cannibal tribes in Papua New Guinea, if we did not kiss and make up."

The change in air did little as Santa still eyed Bhajji with no little suspicion. Bhajji, on his part, was at his garrulous best, trying to strike a conversation.

"Sure you aren't Ramesh Powar trying to make a comeback in disguise? (laughs) I'm kidding buddy. So you come from North Pole? What brought you here?"

Santa was under the impression that Bhajji's query was on mode of transport.

"Reindeers."

Bhajji was surprised. He outstretched his arm and then looked at Santa.

"Rain! It's not raining dear. Why should it rain in winter? And I don't see Duckworth or Lewis either. They appear without failing whenever it rains."

A little explanation was the need of the hour but Bhajji retained that baffled look.

"Why reindeer man? Get a life, get a Hummer. I have one. Dhoni has one. If you want I can talk to the distributor for some discount."

Having retained his sang-froid, Santa finally opened his mouth.

"Thanks but no thanks. Sonny, my arm comes in the way of saying it was a pleasure meeting you. Never mind, I have something to give you before I depart."

Santa fished out a rolled strip and handed it over to Bhajji.

"I don't watch cricket but I'm told you've forgotten the basics. So I give you this tape to measure your line and length. You still will be left with another yard or so and for humanity's sake, tape your mouth with that. Bye."

(P.S. Reproducing this 2009 post for those who missed it)

More Tests in Eden, please

Have you seen them in queue before the ticket counter, Sir? I have.

A student had bunked class. A clerk had played truant. A shopkeeper had concocted a cock-and-bull story for his bossy wife and a youth sold a white lie to his girlfriend to be in the same sweaty serpentine queue with strange people.

And they laughed heartily as they talked about how they made their way and admired each other's ingenuity.

Shoved now and then by the mounted police, these faceless people, brought together by a common passion, had to be inside, Sir.

For just being inside would insulate them from all the ills of their daily life. Inflation, unemployment, marginalization, ideological disillusion, political cynicism, diminishing role models...

In the end of it all, some returned home with a ticket in their pocket and a smug smile on their lip.

Others dragged themselves back. But it was not over yet. As is with life, there always are a few more stones to be turned.

And the match-morning, they would invariably be inside! Having begged, borrowed or stolen there passage.

And once inside, they do wonder, Sir.

They give Harbhajan his spunk, mojo and bragging right back.

They turn Butterfinger into Goldfinger and make Laxman take blinders and do strange things with his willow.

They send nostalgia permeating through the air. They talk reverently about Dravid and indulgently about Azhar. And moan how they miss Kumble.

Sir, they infuse new life in the corpse and make Test cricket jump off its bier and pirouette!

There must be something about these people. Let's have more Tests at Eden, sir.

Please.

Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye!

Stop me if you have heard/read this before.

Apparently, the tolerance level for bad singers is pretty low among the Filipinos. And even lower when it comes to Frank Sinatra's version of 'My Way'.

Nip a potential Himesh Reshammiya in the bud – pretty much sums up the feeling there.

And they don't belong to that shallow school of thought that restricts its displeasure to hurling a few rotten eggs here and a few stale tomatoes there and go home content with the false conviction that they have done their bit to earn a night's repose.

According to modest estimates, half a dozen such poor singers have vanished off the face of earth for their fatally imperfect rendition of the number. The local media keeps a tally of what they call 'My Way Killings'.

The general consensus among the crooners there is that you sing the number in the local Karaoke bars only after you have: i) a bullet-proof jacket inside; ii) updated your life insurance premiums; iii) signed the will in presence of your lawyers; and iv) kissed your kid on the forehead one last time.

So now you know why Harbhajan Singh should thank his stars that: i) he's not a singer; and ii) he's an Indian to boot.

Pix: AP

(P.S. 'My Way' lyric here)

When Santa met Bhajji

When two boisterous men, both bearded to the teeth and turbaned to the gills, come together with Christmas in the air, bear hugs and mutual backslapping are expected to be the order of the day.

But at times, even the most perfect of scripts go awry and what follows is something starting with a P and has a demon in it. I think Pandemonium is the word I'm groping for, unless it's one of those chemical elements which sign off with an 'ium'.

So when Santa Claus met Bhajji, one expected them to hit it off like a house on fire. Instead, it turned out to be a harrowing experience for Father Christmas.

Bhajji was in a foul mood. In his elements, if you insist.

In contrast, Santa had enough warmth in his voice to force another Copenhagen as he greeted Bhajji.

"Merry Christmas!"

The bonhomie was somehow missing on Bhajji's part.

"Oye Papaji, mind your language. Has your Pyo brought the exclusive rights that you go about the town claiming 'Meri Christmas'? If you don't want me to box your ear, tell 'It's Everybody's Christmas'."

Santa shielded his bafflement with a patronizing smile.

"Well, it's everybody’s Christmas of course."

Bhajji sort of relented but clearly wasn't convinced of the stranger's bona fide.

"That's better. By the way, haven't seen you earlier. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Santa Claus."

Bhajji's eyes bulged again.

"Santa what?"

What followed immediately is the experience I have undergone more than once in my childhood.

It's the standard modus operandi of the neighbourhood bullies to grab you by your arm, twist it as if it's a doorknob and pull it up like a lever till it's horizontal to the terra firma – thus preempting any resistance – before planting some of the juiciest on your defenceless back.

More than the assault itself, its suddenness had unnerved Santa and emanating from the depth of his facial undergrowth was an assortment of Err, Hey, Ohh, Ouch, Stop, What-the-Hell before he finally managed to free himself from the vice-like grip.

Massaging his mangled arm, Santa sounded less genial as he instituted an inquiry.

"What the hell...I mean why did you attack me? You nearly yanked my arm!"

Panting after his attempt at disarmament of the opponent, Bhajji was clearly baffled by his naivety.

"Why I beat you? Santa CLAUSE! Must be a relative of that *&%$#@ Whereabout Clause. Don't I know you have a bottle in your sack and you have been shadowing me all along to see when I relieve myself?"

Last remnants of geniality gone from his eyes — and honestly one could not blame him – Santa finally exercised some authority.

"Stop it, you moron. I don't know what the hell you are gibbering about. See, there is no bottle in my sack."

Bhajji was clearly shaken. At least stirred, if not shaken altogether.

"You mean you don't even know Whereabout Clause? I'm sorry then. No hard feelings, ok? See I slapped Sreesanth also and he too made peace later. We exchange dance steps now. You know what? Lalit Modi had actually threatened to auction us, not in IPL but among the cannibal tribes in Papua New Guinea, if we did not kiss and make up."

The change in air did little as Santa still eyed Bhajji with no little suspicion. Bhajji, on his part, was at his garrulous best, trying to strike a conversation.

"Sure you aren't Ramesh Powar trying to make a comeback in disguise? (laughs) I'm kidding buddy. So you come from North Pole? What brought you here?"

Santa was under the impression that Bhajji's query was on mode of transport.

"Reindeers."

Bhajji was surprised. He outstretched his arm and then looked at Santa.

"Rain! It's not raining dear. Why should it rain in winter? And I don't see Duckworth or Lewis either. They appear without failing whenever it rains."

A little explanation was the need of the hour but Bhajji retained that baffled look.

"Why reindeer man? Get a life, get a Hummer. I have one. Dhoni has one. If you want I can talk to the distributor for some discount."

Having retained his sang-froid, Santa finally opened his mouth.

"Thanks but no thanks. Sonny, my arm comes in the way of saying it was a pleasure meeting you. Never mind, I have something to give you before I depart."

Santa fished out a rolled strip and handed it over to Bhajji.

"I don't watch cricket but I'm told you've forgotten the basics. So I give you this tape to measure your line and length. You still will be left with another yard or so and for humanity's sake, tape your mouth with that. Bye."

Kanpur Test Day 1: My 7 suspects

1. The cake Amit Mishra -- he turned 27 today even though his look suggests 72 -- received from team management had 'Happy-Birthday-Omit' written across it;

2. "Sorry Bhai" is the Bollywood movie that pretty much sums up Pragyan Ojha's feeling towards Amit Mishra;

3. The only explanation of Sri Lanka's frequent dropping of anything flying off Sehwag's bat is -- they consider it below their dignity. They steadfastly refused in Ahmedabad till one accidentally got stuck to Angelo Mathews' reluctant palm. Here too Mahela dropped Sehwag on duck before Dilshan caught him. And that because Sehwag happens to be Dilshan's Delhi Daredevils comrade;

4. After their union in Ahmedabad, the Jayawardenes clicked in Kanpur as well. Well, this time for India, by collaborating to spill Sehwag on zero;

5. The secret behind Sehwag's uncharacteristic patience is Dhoni's threat to make him write Welegedara's full name -- Uda Walawwe Mahim Bandaralage Chanaka Asanga Welegedara -- 10 times if he got out early;

6. Harbhajan Singh's mild throat infection had the team management worried because they know his real craft lies in his larynx;

7. When Sehwag said Gambhir is the best Indian opener since Gavaskar, he meant Srikkanth was a motormouth madcap, Ganguly an ill-tempered mule and Tendulkar a petulant holy cow.

How 7 cricketers are preparing for Kanpur Test

1. Rahul Dravid: Plans an interaction with the IIT Kanpur faculty there. Nothing stimulates him on the eve of a Test like a free-wheeling chat on aerodynamics;

2. Amit Mishra: An interaction with ITI Kanpur faculty to explore the prospects of its mobile repairing diploma course;

3. Virender Sehwag: Toying with the idea of visiting any of the tanneries. You can't have a better place to hone your butchering and skinning skill.

4. S Sreesanth: Well, no temple/mosque/church/gurdwara is safe in the town where he lands. Humanity is yet to see a man more convinced that only a divine intervention can win him a place.

5. Harbhajan Singh: Allen Forest Zoo. His sinister motive being to first find a monkey and then call it names, including Symonds.

6. VVS Laxman: A trip to the Luv Kush barrage, purely out of avancular affection;

7. MS Dhoni: Nostalgic 15 minutes at the Kanpur Railway Station, to relive his days as ticket checker in Kharagpur;

(P.S. Doosra is in Kanpur for 2nd Ind-SL Test. Expect lot of actions over the next five days.)

Ind-Aus series in light of Evolution Theories!

Survival of the Fittest: Not sure if Darwin wanted us to barge into the nearest gym with vengeance. But when you realize that only 8 of Australia’s original 15-member squad survived the 7–ODI rigour, you know Darwin was not driveling;

Natural Selection: Darwin propounded some individuals survive more than their jealous peers for no particular reason. Cricket anthropologists classify Virat Kohli as the prime example.

Inheritance of Acquired Characters: Basically what Lamarck meant is that no amount of blood transfusion can help it. At the end of the day, a Casanova begets Casanova and a Gandhi, pre-abstinence that is, begets Gandhi.

So it was hardly a wonder that Shaun Marsh would follow in his father's footsteps and choose India for his maiden ODI ton.

Theory of Needs: At the outset, I would like to clarify that I take no responsibility for the following even though Lamarck does. Apparently, giraffes grew long necks because their forefathers were sick and tired of the staple grass-and-bush diet and craved for the leafy delicacies of the tall trees.

A bare batting cupboard and the same theory of needs forced Ricky Ponting to open the innings in Delhi.

Theory of Use and Disuse: Apparently, early snakes, unlike their present day descendants, were LBW candidates in a Mammals XI vs Reptiles XI tie because they had legs! That is what Lamarck said and once again I take him at face value. He knew them enough to claim that snakes lost legs because they didn't use them enough. Basically he wanted to mean that snakes put their feet up all the time till it eventually came off.

Harbhajan Singh may resent the simile but Chris Broad's presence has forced him to shelve his Doosra and we may not see him bowling that again.

Allergy cost Pakistan Champions Trophy!

Harbhajan's is not the only hand that itches, especially when a Sreesanth is in the vicinity.

Last month, hundreds of women in the eastern Indian states had a similar sensation after they developed Mehendi allergy.

Not that allergy is essentially a proletariat phenomenon.

For instance, Kimberly Williams is allergic to cats and dogs. So much so that she sneezes her inside out at the prospect of raining cats and dogs!

Take the case of Bill Clinton. He may not be allergic to plump White House interns but cats give him a wheeze.

Beyonce is reportedly allergic to perfume. If still you don't see reasons to sympathise with her co-performers, X-rays would confirm that God had mistakenly slipped a boulder where He was supposed to put a heart.

Janet Jackson's is a more baffling case. Having twice tied the knots -- quite loose ones you may say since she wriggled out of both -- her self-diagnosis is she is probably allergic to marriage!

And until they reached the Champions Trophy semifinal, you could not put a finger on what Pakistan is allergic to.

As long as pundits ignored them, Younus & Co were pleased as punch and cruised as a launch.

But suddenly they heard an oracle: "From now on, you will be cursed and damned as favourites."

Knees trembled, spine curled, blood curdled...Let's face it, Pakistan is allergic to favourite's tag.

7 reasons why it’s not easy being an Indian cricketer

Virender Sehwag has not had a bumper crop on his barren scalp.

Harbhajan Singh's Hummer has not claimed its first casualty yet.

And Irfan Pathan still bowls at a speed which allows him the luxury of fetching the ball midway and do a re-take if he doesn't like the original.

But enough strange things have happened of late to convince me that it's not easy being an Indian cricket these days and here is why:

1. Film directors dismiss you as pestering wannabe actor;

2. Female fans mistake you for a lip gloss;

3. You never know when you find yourself at the wrong end of Vinod Kambli's name-dropping spree in one of the reality shows;

4. Selectors first shove you into a garb and then dump you for posturing in borrowed plumes;

5. Your cousin, especially from hockey, casts an evil eye on your Hummer;

6. Your own state association calls you nepotic; and

7. WADA guys chase you even in your nightmare with a bottle and an injection in their hand, seeking blood and what not.

Thank you Bhajji

Time for some quick confessions. Conscience cleansing, if you know what I mean.

Well, Doosra admits it has not been at its genial best when dealing with the Oz cricketers.

To its biased eyes, an Oz cricketer was complete only with protrusion on either side of the head and preferably a caudal appendage neatly tucked in their rear.

People talked about halo around their head but all Doosra saw was horn.

Let's face the truth, it derived immense satisfaction from bashing Oz cricketers, any will do. The only thing that gave marginally little more joy is bashing Lalit Modi.

That, however, is hardly the big deal since it's a cottage industry in the west where people of late are demanding a probe against the IPL ringmaster's possible collaboration with Conrad Murray in Michael Jackson's death inquiry.

Doosra's consistent approach towards the Oz players notwithstanding, it never occurred in the wildest of nightmares that some of them, done and dusted with their career and looking for some activity, would secretly meet in a dingy Brisbane hall to guzzle gallons of beer before arriving at the unanimous conclusion that Doosra is a threat to the society.

One of them, Ashley Mallett, went on to the extent of calling Doosra illegal!

Well, that gives you a fair idea of the cloud of crisis hovering over Doosra.

Shane Warne was part of the sly summit too but he apparently kept puffing his B&H and texting from his prolific cellphone, occasionally surfacing to nod his head in affirmation.

Doosra found itself completely alone in its hour of crisis, not a single voice of solidarity in the earshot.

That is till the messiah surfaced in Jalandhar, springing to the defence of the beleaguered.

Thank you Bhajji.

Crystal ball gazing: Strategy Breaks in IPL II

Purists have already booked their preferred burial place but the thing ticking inside Lalit Modi’s skull can't wait to put them to sleep. Cricket luddites can go and fly a kite, Strategy Breaks are here to stay! At least till May 24.

Fuhrer Modi decrees there will be a seven-and-half minute break after every 10 overs so that Virender Sehwag can pop on your screen with a wig, MS Dhoni peddle a pesticide in bottle and Sachin Tendulkar try to convince about a bank that you just can't bank on.

Crystal ball gazing can be as much a puerile pleasure as cricket ball gazing and Doosra predicts how the following seven players would use the Strategy Breaks during IPL II:

1. Rahul Dravid: Having hit a miscued six before the break, he would shrink apologetically in his boots and shudder at the very thought of looking at himself in the mirror after this felony;

2. Harbhajan Singh: Banished to the solitude of deep third man, Bhajji would chase terrified teammates and empty his pocket to convince them that he has no hit-list this year;

3. MS Dhoni: Will rush to the coiffeur waiting just outside the rope for a new haircut resembling his wagon wheel;

4. Andrew Flintoff: Will inform Vijay Mallya about his readiness to join Bangalore Royal Challengers provided he is offered the blind-tasting job at any of his breweries for the rest of the year.

5. Ashok Dinda: Will be frogmarched off the ground for scratching all four of his quibbling Knight Riders captains;

6. Sourav Ganguly: Of them all, only Dada would be strategizing. He will tell L R Shukla, Wriddhiman Saha and Debabrata Das exactly how much they would get for switching off the dressing room light and putting a sack over John Buchanan’s head so that he can bean the Aussie.

7. Shane Warne: Would fish out his cell and frantically type a series of lewd text messages for plump British nurses before pressing the wrong button and sending it instead to his estranged wife Simone.

To Tigers, with love, from Tendulkar

Sachin Tendulkar dedicated his ton to the tigers. Well, hitting centuries is what he has been doing since birth and having exhausted the list of mankind, I reckon at some point of time, looking beyond was an inevitability.

At the same time, there are others as well who owe a similar dedication of their moments of glory to creatures other than human and it’s worth having a look at them.

1. Andrew Symonds to Fishes: Catching them is more fun than catching say, a Harbhajan Singh. Besides, fishes never taunted him, racially or otherwise;
2. Harbhajan Singh to Monkeys: As atonement for racially abusing them in the Sydneygate episode; alternatively,
Harbhajan Singh to Kiwis: For his new-found similarity with the guileless and flightless bird;
3. Mohd Yousuf to Chameleons: As a mark of appreciation after borrowing the whole range of colours from them and completing the ICL-IPL-ICL cycle;
4. M S Dhoni to Goats: Atonement for sacrificing one of them in a Ranchi temple; alternatively,
Dhoni to Buffalos: As a mark of gratitude after guzzling gallons of milk, triggering malnutrition among the livestock population in the country;
5. Ajit Agarkar to Ducks: For self-explanatory reasons;
6. Steve Bucknor to Rhinoceros: For lending him their hide and then forgetting about it;
7. Mudassar Nazar to Snails: Legend has it that Nazar’s longstanding jogging partner used to be a snail, which would patiently wait for him at the bend of the road in Lahore after they had started together in the morning.