Rahul Tomar, whoever you are, you are the son of a thousand fathers

I have an Airtel number. For the past 15 months or so, I’ve been getting calls from Airtel asking me if they could talk to Rahul Tomar.

My name, as you can see, is not Rahul Tomar. I don’t know anyone called Rahul Tomar. I know plenty of Rahuls. But I’ve never known a Tomar. The only Tomar I know is Paan Singh Tomar.

So each time they’d call, I assured them I knew no such person. And each time, I’d be assured that I won’t be called again. But every few weeks or so, they would call back.

When this started happening frequently, I decided to ask them about this Rahul person. I was told he had used my number as his alternate number. Who he is and why he did it is a mystery to me.

I asked Airtel if they could share Rahul’s number with me. They did. The number was similar to mine. I’m guessing he mentioned a made-up number on his sign-up form. Unluckily, it was mine.

I called his number. It was out of service. I Googled for his name and number. No luck there.

After some point, I got upset at Airtel’s frequent calls. It bordered on harassment. I could recognise their numbers on the caller ID now. So I began ignoring them. If I’d accidentally taken a call, I disconnected the moment the operator uttered “Can I speak to Mr. Rahul…”

Now, the frequency of their calls shot up: from once in a few weeks, to several times a week. It drove me mad. Also, I rarely had the time to step out of my office or home and bark furiously at these operators who’d decided not to believe my side of the story. So I kept ignoring the calls.

One day, I decided to be calm and talk with them. The operator, who might have become familiar with my disconnecting habits, sounded like he couldn’t believe I had taken the call.

Calmly, I explained the whole situation to him. Again. He told me I would not be bothered. Again. It felt like it was the end of the problem. But I had my doubts.

Some days later, I get another call. “Can I speak to Mr Rahul Tomar?” I sighed. And disconnected. They called back immediately. I disconnected again.

Today, I got yet another call. I was in office. It was a Sunday. The office was practically empty. I could bark at the operator without disturbing anyone. So I barked.

Right before both of us turned abusive and I hung up, the operator mentioned an outstanding bill of 16,000 bucks.

So this is what I know of Rahul Tomar: his telephone number was 9810483361, he misused my telephone number, he owes 16,000 rupees to a phone compnay, he’s a thief, and he’s on the run. Also, he’s the son of a thousand fathers. But that is conjecture.

I called Airtel today. I lodged my complaint. Again. I was assured I won’t be bothered again. Again.

Let’s see how long this peace lasts.

Tendulkar, Chennai, Hyderabad, 1999, 2009, Times of India, Plagiarism, Bakri and Gadha

I’ve followed cricket with great interest for most of my life, first as a fan and then as a journalist. Fans tend to get excited about teams, stars and results. But journalists become hardened cynics over a period of time. Sure, hacks love the game dearly, but without getting emotional about results. Win or lose, journalists have a job: to present cold, hard facts, and then perhaps analyse what went wrong or right.

But no matter how thick-skinned they are, a loss like the one at Hyderabad is a kick in the nuts. I’ll speak for myself. It hurts. Really bad.

Many of us have been discussing how Hyderabad 2009 is similar to Chennai 1999, when India lost to Pakistan by a gut-wrenching margin of 12 runs. In both cases, Tendulkar got a big hundred, raised hopes of a jail-breaking win, got out, and then the rest of the batting line-up had the tensile strength of a marie biscuit.

My colleague Arjun Sen first mentioned a possible similarity between 1999 and 2009, when we were discussing the match on my Facebook status.

I later thought it’d be worthwhile comparing the Chennai and Hyderabad scorecards to detect similarities. On top of my mind were 1) a Tendulkar hundred, 2) Nayan Mongia and Raina getting fifties and 3) a partnership of 130-odd runs in both games.

But once I began the analysis, the findings were startling. Eerie. Bizarre. Unbelievable. And mostly too good to be true. We suspected Chennai and Hyderabad were similar, but here was eye-popping data that confirmed our suspicion.

I ran the report on the findings on India Today an hour or so after the Hyderabad match.

Later, I updated the copy twice when I found some more eye-popping data from the two scorecards.

The story was picked up by In.com and later by Cricinfo’s Surfer.

Later this evening, blog buddy Arvind Iyer saw my report. My jaw dropped when he said he’d read something similar in the Bangalore edition of Times of India today.

So I looked up their epaper. And here’s what I find, on Sports Pg 1 .

Fantastic headline, and a five-star rating, too. (Update: Venkat Ananth points me to TOI’s Mumbai edition which carries the same infographic. I’m guessing this originated from Mumbai.)

Now, the connections between Chennai ’99 and Hyderabad ’09 have been talked about by thousands of cricket followers. I’m just one of them. And the stats which establish these connections are also out in public domain.

But what gets my bakri is the sequence of TOI’s points. They are exactly the same as the sequence in which I wrote them.

Without suggesting anything, I’ll just add that TOI & Sons are known offenders in such matters. Ask Twilight Fairy, The Cook’s Cottage, Food For Thought, Jai Arjun, to name a few. They’ve given bloggers a hard time, and now they’ve done it to someone of their own community.

I’ll leave it at that. I hope India kick Australia’s gadha tomorrow. There, I said it. It was an emotional outburst. But only because Hyderabad still hurts.

Regulating the Indian media

I have just one thing to say to those people who want the government to regulate the media: please throw away your cable connection and promise to watch Doordarshan for the rest of your life.

The T-Shirt Says It All

Extra: My previous post on Shivraj Patil.

Yesterday...

I saw a man who looked like Shivraj Patil and my right hand voluntarily wanted to hurl a rock at him.

I don't believe in violence but then again, this morning I was reading Times of India and this report cracked me up. Immense schadenfreude!

Open letter to Ricky Ponting

Dear Ricky,

Congratulations on winning a keenly-contested Test match at Sydney. Your team fought back from despairing depths on Day 1 to emerge the unlikely winners on Day 5. Truly, the work of a champion team.

As a supporter of the Indian cricket team, I am aggrieved with the standard of umpiring in the Test. But hey, it happens. You were better, one way or the other.

But what I am aggrieved more as a cricket fan is the conduct of your team — and yourself. Your sanctimoniousness and arrogance were not befitting of a world champion team and its captain.

Let me borrow a line from Richie Benaud who had described the Sachin Tendulkar seam-cleaning incident at Port Elizabeth as "If that's not ball tampering, then I am Mrs. Doubtfire."

Ricky, if your team played within the spirit of the game in Sydney, then
I am Mrs. Doubtfire.

There’s no disputing that yours is the best team in the world. That’s a well-documented fact. Similarly, after what happened in Sydney — and the world saw it — yours is also an ill-behaved team that displays little ethic or sporting spirit, or the gall to stand your ground when returned a favour, as we saw in Harbhajan Singh's case.

I remember an incident from a recent one-day international where Murali Kartik didn’t walk. After India won, you pointed out later that it would have been nice for Kartik to have walked.

That game was of no consequence. You had already won the series. But I’ll tell you what would have been nice.

It would have been nice if you had walked when you were caught down the leg off Sourav Ganguly. It would have been nice if Andrew Symonds had walked on 30.

It would have been nice if Clarke had not shamefully stayed on having knocked the cover of the ball and waited for the umpire to give him out.

Ricky, it would have been nice if Clarke had not asked Ganguly to "f*** off" after taking a dubious catch. It would have been nice if you had not appealed for a catch of M.S. Dhoni that you had grounded.

Yes, I am questioning your honesty, and if it comes to talking about integrity, you should not be standing there.

I know your team has won everything it could win.

Next time, try winning hearts.

Sincerely,

A Cricket Fan

Tele-marketing

(Tring! Tring!)

Me: Hello?

Him Good morning, sir. I’m calling from [BLEEP] bank. I see you have a [BLEEP] account with us.

Me: That’s right.

Him On basis of that account, I’d like to offer you a personal loan of 75,000 rupees.

Me: Umm, no, I’m not really interested.

Him (Getting pushy) But this loan is exclusively for you sir;, you have to take it.

Me: Ok, tell me more.

Him Sir, all you have to do is give me some basic information about yourself, like your address, date of birth, monthly income...

Me: Fine, but I have a condition too.

Him Sir, what would that be?

Me: I want the 75,000 rupees to be delivered at my home.

Him Sir...

Me: In coins of 10 paise.

Him Err...

Me: In two black-coloured suitcases.

Him Sir, kyu mazaak kar rahe hai?

Me: Heh heh. Sir, aap hi ne to shuru kiya.

--------------------------------------------

This hasn’t actually happened yet. But I’m guessing that it soon would.

Dacoity in the name of socialism

The story goes something like this: In a village far, far away, a man wishes to start his own bakery. He knows he has the recipe for the best bread in town. So he saves and plans for years before he has enough money to start his business.

He finally sets up his shop, and starts making his bread. People love how it tastes; it's unlike anything they've ever tasted, and the bread has nutritious ingredients exclusive to this baker's recipe. Nobody knows what goes in the bread, but everyone knows it's good for health.

The baker is experiencing windfall. News about his recipe spreads. The King soon hears of it. He orders his men to bring him a sample. Upon tasting the bread, the King begins to think.

Soon after, the King's soldiers confiscate the bakery. The baker is summoned. The King says the baker can carry on with his business only if he produces the bread free of cost for him, reveals his secret recipe, and also deposits all his profits into the royal treasury.

The King also decides that the bread will be given away to the community so that everyone can get a taste of the nutritious bread, free of cost. The baker is helpless. He can't help but agree.

This story might sound familiar to those who've been following the battle over the rights to broadcast cricket matches in India.

Because now comes the news that Prasar Bharti will get a feed from private broadcasters, without advertisements, of events of national importance, starting February 8.

This is dacoity in the name of socialism. Private broadcasters (in this case, Nimbus) have bid millions of dollars to buy the rights to these games. Prasar Bharti hasn’t spent a paisa. Yet, because of this ordinance, not only will they get the deferred live feed, they can also get to mint money from advertisements.

Prasar Bharti will get only 25% of the advertisement revenue — the rest goes to Nimbus, and quite rightly too — but if this is being done in “national interest”, why wouldn’t the government give up 100% of their ad revenue?

I’m in favour of making cricket more accessible to the masses, but isn’t protecting individual rights in national interest too?

This is not a free country, believe it or not. With brotherpuckers like Priyaranjan Dasmunsi around, we’ll never know what it is to be self-respecting and free people.

You know what pisses me off?

Four-wheeler drivers, who don't have the good sense to keep their headlights on low-beam.

Do they realise how dangerous their high-beams are to drivers coming on the other side of the road? They're blinded by high-beams and the entire purpose of having headlights gets defeated.

Will someone teach those jackasses?