Then, Collingwood asks Gavaskar teach him to pronounce his own name, and the latter obliges with “सुनील गावस्कर”; fifteen minutes after the lesson, Collingwood is back to his true form, pronouncing the first syllable in Gavaskar’s first name as “Sun” and the latter syllable as “Nill”, ends up with सन्निल गवस्खार. Kind of makes sense, when you realize how folks in India spell the words (as they are pronounced) – for example, “lekar” is pronounced by Indians just like a Westerner would pronounce “Laker” (which is what I was wondering driving to work this morning, and listening to this song).

And though Gavaskar, for his part, tries hard (example ठेन for “ten”), he cannot maintain it through thick (थिक्ख) and thin (थिन)!

Mrs. P: Katya, what does ‘ooru’ mean?

Katya (brightly): One hundred.

Mrs. P: No Katya, ‘nooru’ means one hundred, What does ‘ooru’ mean?

At this point, I decided to step in and bat for my attorney. Invoking the spirit of Kalidasa (in the manner he beat his wife in debating), I explained: Just like ‘eeruLLi’ and ‘neeruLLi’ mean the same (onions) in Kannada, similarly, Katya must have determined that ‘ooru’ and ‘nooru’ are the same.

“Appa, may I watch TV?”

Appa (how can I let your mind starve for the whole day without your TV, my child?): “Sure”

“Appa, may I have a brownie?”

Appa (how can I let your stomach starve in the evening, my child?): “Su … Oh, waitaminute! Finish the 2/2 waffle from this morning that you did (could) not finish before you had to rush to school!”

Katya (five minutes later): “Appa, I am done. Now may I have the brownie?”

Appa (good job – you’ve finished your breakfast, my child!): “OK … Ooooh, waitaminute!” (memories of uneaten lunches past come flooding to the father, who has to listen to a daily tantrum that child throws at mother in defence of those uneaten lunches) “Did you finish your lunch?”

Katya: “Ummmm … No.”

Appa (glad at having staved off tantrum of the day): “Eat that first then!”

She’s finished her breakfast (finally); now I am now waiting for her to finish her lunch, so I can approve the snack (brownie).

Note: The above sequence of events would’ve been impossible without the catalyst in the background (the TV, of course).

Update: She is only halfway through lunch … and has quit for the time being.

IBM Stats - Fail!

Focus on these keys to the match for Kvitova:

- win fewer than 3% of points at net

Here is where blindly following some weird lifelong stats for a player and dumping it into their Wimbledon coverage gets IBM in trouble. Think for a minute, why would you want to intentionally win fewer of your points at the net? Makes sense if you are a baseliner, makes sense if you are on clay or hard courts, but if you are on grass, surely this stat should be out the window!

- win fewer than 8% of points won with a winner

But wait, now it gets more harebrained. Winning fewer than 8% of points with a winner? Maybe she is historically the Rahul Dravid* of Tennis, i.e., merely sits and waits for her opponent to commit a mistake. Even then, fewer than 8% of points with winners? Sounds unreal any day! However, again, this is Wimbledon, where one can hit winners much more easily than at, say, the French Open where, for instance, the ball will tend to sit up on drop shots.

* = this is not meant to insult or slight Rahul Dravid, who is the Indian cricket team’s rock of Gibralter!