Borrowed from OPN- The Editor, My Identity

A little while back, I wrote a rather personal note on www.onlinepokernews.in, the website that reflects my poker writing. I am reproducing it here below for all to read. It defines everything I am currently and thats why I feel it deserves to be here too. Hope copying your own writing from one portal to a blog isn't plagiarism. Nevertheless, you can also catch it here.

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Another year has gone by. An year which can definitely be called as an illustrious one for Indian poker. From a dry run in tournament poker to some highly fruitful online grinds. If the first half of 2014 saw the waters turn still for poker, the second half surely was a overflowing stream. A stream that saw many young fishes(pun not intended) most of whom hold promise for the future. A few six figure online scores kept the poker community buzzing, so did a revival in the poker tournaments. All in all, it was a good year. An year that is now gone by.

Come January and we at OPN(onlinepokernews) have something to cheer about. January always means we survived another year. We, the outliers(as we like to think), or the outsiders(as some might think) are 2 years old this week. 2 years is exactly how two of my babies are. The first one is surely the one you are looking at now while the second one is sleeping with a cold at home. Both of whom have required a lot of toil, money and love. And both of whom are reaping very good results now.

From juggling between the creche in the Pride Poker Room to playing beyond the wee hours with the baby on the lap to grinding out the tourneys on the mobile in between baby calls; poker and the baby have been well balanced. The Editor and the Mother have crossed paths and survived. But now is when the challenge starts. When the baby asks as I leave for work, ” Taash office, mama?” I stare, smirk and leave without answering. If I have no answer to this pertinent question then who will? If I after playing poker for 5 years now still hesitate when my kids ask about ‘taash’ then how am I to take forth this responsibility of running a poker editorial, leave alone play the game. If I cannot advocate this game I have come to love as a game of skill to my 4 and 2 year olds then who am I to try and tell the public at large. These 2 words by my toddler have brought me to face the larger picture of the responsibilities I have, as a poker mom and a poker editor.

As a poker editor, my responsibilities are clear. I have them chocked out clearly from Day 1- Promoting Poker in India, Promoting legal poker to seek regulation, Promoting the new talent in Indian poker and promoting Indianism over internationalism. A simple 4 point agenda. Which OPN and I have followed to the tee. Which now brings me to the core dilemma; my responsibilities as a poker mom. While I have tried never to discuss or refer to poker as ‘taash’ in the household but the kids have caught on. Since ‘taash’ as a word and activity is quite taboo in Indian culture, poker as a game requires quite a bit of explanation to everyone. But with experience, clarity has also followed. A belief has set in! The belief that this 5 card game is indeed a game of skills. Skills connected to calculation, skills to do with strategy, skills requiring decision making, skills testing your social quotient and stress management! And my failure to perform well at the top notch tournaments has re-instilled my belief. That merely money and luck cannot make me reach that coveted Final table. It is with great skill that those who grind the hours away manage to win the big money and write poker history.

And it is with this belief that I decided to sit my kids down this weekend and have them play their first game of poker. So they could learn their first skill that this game can teach. People skills! Not the simplest but perhaps the only one the kiddies could understand. And what fun it was. We had mastered a dozen type of poker faces with the 4 year old responsible for almost all of them. And 2 times I was caught bluffing. Well, I did simplify the game. Cut the chase short by eliminating the betting rounds. Something like an ‘Open Show Poker’. And after a hilarious 30 minutes, I had clicked many poker faces. I wish I could share them here. I felt the load was off my chest. The weight I was carrying around by not facing up to the queries was off. I had explained as best as I could to the kids what the game(remembering to refer to it as a game always) is. I hope they understand and spread the word as they grow up. In fact, I hope they grow up in a community where ‘taash’ is not taboo. Rather poker isn’t looked at as merely a play of cards but as a game of skills mastered over years by an intelligent and calculative mind.

Well, thanks for reading this personal note. Why so personal, you wonder? Well, its our 2nd birthday and we can’t keep calm.

Thanks again,

R

Gurgaon- Educated, Rich and So Uncivil!

Each morning for the past one year Mohit and I set out to spend the best 15 minutes of the day with each other. At 9:30 am we leave for office together. This time is usually spent sharing ideas, discussing the kids, making travel plans etc. But not anymore. Now the moment we hit the highway NH-8 from Signature Towers, I have my task cut out. I turn the navigator for the driver. My job isn't just to navigate him through on this one km stretch of the highway till the exit for Udyog Vihar. Rather my job is to spot that weak link! That person who's talking on the phone! That slow auto driver who is smoking the biddi. That old couple which is bickering over random things. Why am I trying to spot them? Because the moment i see a draft, I tell Mohit to drive our car right in. The size of our current car helps in scaring the other drivers too.

If you still haven't understood what I mean, then this is the state of affairs at the NH-8 exit that goes towards Udyog Vihar every day. Educated people queue up in serpentine lines. Rich people with their Audis and BMW's form queues that go up to a kilometre sometimes to enter the small exit towards the most bustling industrial area of the Millennium City. Enter the uncivil people like yours truly. They spot the slow pokes and drive their cars in, beating the queues, cutting the chase short and thus saving a precious 20 mins.

All of this looked very fair to me till this morning. Today I was driving since Mohit is travelling. It was a small queue thus I decided to be a responsible Gurgaon resident and not beat the line. Soon there was a horde of cars behind me. Before I knew all hell started breaking loose. Today someone else had identified the weak link. The slow auto in front of me had just made way for 2 autos, 1 bus and 1 trolley. And I was still at the spot where I had joined the line. Within a minute another auto and car had swept in. I tried to maintain my composure, after all this was my daily routine too. But before I knew it an army of cars was butting in before the auto. It seemed the whole city had recognised this weak link and everyone was in a hurry. I did what every Indian does. Honked till eternity. And the others did what all other Indians do. Cared too Hoots!

After abusing for 5 minutes, I moved an inch. Then a brave soul came swarming in with his Audi Q-5. I muttered something about him not caring about his car and stayed alert at the wheels. I said a silent pledge not to let him enter. But his car's agility was nothing in front of mine. 60 lakhs beat 15 lakhs and soon he was in front of me. I was sulking, honking more and abusing a lot. Thankfully the line started moving. As soon as I reached the exit, I decided to give a piece of my mind to the Traffic police on duty. I rolled down my window and expressed in loud words. He shrugged and said, " Aap ka hi Gurgaon hai."

He is right! Its my Gurgaon. Its an educated and rich Gurgaon. Where everyone is in a hurry and very one is uncivil. Today was one day where I failed. Will tomorrow be the one where I beat the line and reach office on time? All at the expense of being uncouth, uncivil and crazy to the core! 

Whose right is it anyway?

Friends-Now and Forever

Life has been on an emotional roller coaster for the past few weeks. Someone very dear passed away. He left me wondering about the uncertainties life throws at us. He left me wondering about the fairness of such a youthful soul ending his happy journey so short. He left me wondering about whose right is it to leave, depart, pass away and meet the All Mighty far and beyond?

He wasn't my brother, he wasn't my best friend and he wasn't even my brother in law. He was my best friends husband. We shared a relation which didn't have a clear terminology. We just shared a person who meant the world to him and whom I have known for more than 2/3rd of my living years. We just shared a common bond that kept us together for 15 years. We shared our best friend!

At his remembrance/funeral ceremony, I saw the whole of Ludhiana town come out. Not a single eye was dry as Amit was remembered. Just 2 days shy of his 36th birthday and we were paying a tribute to his departed soul. Even in his framed pictured self, he was the most handsome man in the crowd. People lined up to offer flowers and bow down to pay their last respects to him. Old and young, men and women, hundreds of them came out.

As I sat in the third row behind Sumedha, my best friend trying to share her grief I saw the serpentine queue of people wanting to offer flowers to his picture. I watched as the oldest of them took a long time to walk, bow, fold their hands, murmur something and turn back to take a rare empty spot in the huge hall. Somehow it seemed like the oldest people in the hall were taking the longest time to pay their respects. Somehow it seemed like that they were murmuring something to the 'Lord' wondering of what upholds them next. Somehow it seemed like they were quizzical about whose time comes next? To me it looked like a dilemma of sorts where the trend of life was reversed. I was left wondering about who decides on who goes when? Who or what decides whose right is it to become the star that their kids follow for the rest of their lives? Whose right is it anyways to live or die?

An open tribute to Amit-

With you we laughed a lot and cried a little lesser,

Travelled the world a little more, in your company life was a pleasure.

It was with you that we downed those dozen pegs,

Partied the nights away and shook a few legs.

You were the reason that evenings together turned into dawns,

You with all your charisma and that never seen before brawn.

From the time we first met to the unsaid goodbyes,

You touched our lives so well but tore it apart after taking it high.

For a decade of happiness and being our friend,

we owe so much to you that it's difficult to think beyond the bend .

If there is a life after death, then come and lets be together, Amit,

Because nothing is the same anymore since you decided to call it The End.

If You are watching over us from the clouds far away,

Then come back soon, my friend, lets spend just another day.

We let you slip away so you could be our angel for life,

a life that now seems so empty, a life without much stride.

We cry for our loss and tuck you in our hearts,

always on our minds, a memory never to part.

We are a thousand miles away, in different rooms of God,

You are the sunlight in the rain and We are the clouds so dark.

We are thinking of you today and the days before that too,

these memories are for keeping now and are all that we have too.

From the time you walked in as yourself to now as a picture in a frame,

we wake up to this numb silence and often say your name.

We smiled when life made you happy and ached as things changed to pain,

Now you have left us alone and its tough to stay sane.

The moment you went away, our heart was split into two,

While one is wet with your memories, a part died with you.

In life we loved you dearly and in death we do the same,

From the moment you touched us to the time he called your name.

May you find everlasting peace, being together with the HIM,

Heaven must be so beautiful now, ever since you went in.

Life may go on without you, but it will never be the same,

As our most treasured memory You will always remain.

You are our star who will shine down from above,

Today, tomorrow and always with all our love.

Innocent by birth, Rotten with age!

When Navya first got bitten by the competition bug, I had no clue how to handle. it Her fascination with 'Coming First' in everything took me by surprise. It was something we had never discussed in the house, leave alone making her competitive to come first. But she wanted to come first in reaching the school bus stop, in finishing her meals, in racing back home from the bus stop and in playing with the neighbourhood kids in the evening. The only things she seemed to miss in this new excitement was finishing milk first. Nevertheless, a lot of tears and heartbreaks would ensue when she didn't reach the bus stop the first and some one else was already there. More cranky words when she came second while running back from the bus stop to home. Even more irritation when she wouldn't come first in the games her peer circle played in the evenings.

While I struggled to explain and handle the situation, I was beaten to the finish line by another 4 year old. Where my hours of cajoling and counselling didn't find a solution, it was Navya's best friend and our next door neighbour who found a solution. The always gentle Somil,  apparently didn't like how his friend cried each time he ran faster from their bus stop to our house. His first and obvious solution was 'slowing down'. They would both start running from the bus stop and then he would slow down in the middle so Navya overtakes him. That didn't help. My not so athletic delicate darling was quite a slow runner.

Somil innovated more. He combined his slowing down with cheering for her. This became a combined cheering session where all the parents and kids would cheer aloud for Navya to run faster. That worked for a few days but even this model couldn't be sustained for too long. Then one day, as these kids got off the bus and handed over their bags to their respective moms, I saw Somil stretch his hand out to Navya. Navya held it and Somil said, 'Lets go, Navya.' The two kids ran holding hands till the house. Lots of smiles, high fives and excitement. I almost chocked at what Somil had done. I had to hide my emotions at what that little man had done for his friend. Upon reaching home, Somil declared, " Navya First!" to this Navya reverted, "Nahi, Somil, HUM First!"

2 weeks of confusion solved in a moment by a 4 year old. Now they run holding hands everyday back home and I couldn't contain myself from asking Somil why he did this. "I cannot see her crying. If coming first is what she wants, then we both can come first like this." Innocence leading to such Innovation! Kudos to these kids who teach us a lesson or two in life each day.

Teary Eyed
R