6 December’ isn’t a date I look forward to, being both a proud Indian, as well as Shivaji Park-lover (in that order). It reminds you of two horrific facts – the death of several innocents after the happenings on the same day seventeen years ago, and the Pakis of all people slamming us for being communal. That hurt. It still does. The day is also synonymous with the annual 'invasion' of Dadar and Shivaji Park; one that features many a bizarre moment, like the ‘leaders’ appealing to the ‘followers’ to not make too much noise (in other words, not behave as if they are on a picnic), as it happens to be the DEATH ANNIVERSARY of their deity Dr. Ambedkar. The four days preceding 6 December, and the day after, constitute the annual break for the unofficial Shivaji Park Walkers / Joggers Association. For the past many years, I (and a lot of others) have prayed that the day comes and goes, but the 6 December of 2009 is different. For starters, it begins with the Indian cricket team only four wickets away from becoming the world no. 1 in Test cricket. For an Indian cricket-fanatic, who believes that Test cricket will and always be the ultimate form of the game, the significance of the impending moment cannot be downplayed. The mind reflects on the humiliating losses of the 1980s and 1990s, and thanks the boys of the new millennium for bringing us to this stage. Of course, pioneers like SMG, Kapil and Vengsarkar are also thanked for inspiring Sachin, Rahul, Laxman, Harbhajan, Sehwag, Dhoni and Gambhir, not to mention Sourav and Anil. The Test is to be followed by the annual BCCI Awards ceremony for 2008-09, which is to be held in the East Lawns, a few hundred yards away from where Dhoni and Co will be crowned no. 1. The week leading up to the day is a MAD one as a result. There is so much to do – coordinating with my ex-colleagues at PMG, who are the Event Managers, ensuring that the trophies and cheques for the winners are prepared well in advance, not missing out on VIP guests while sending out the invites, etc. Then there is the minor matter of writing my script, and reading and re-reading it till it becomes a part of 'me.' It is not so much learning the lines by heart, as it is the assimilation of the words in my 'cerebral' muscle-memory. I have never been comfortable looking down at a sheet of paper, then looking up, and uttering a line, in front of an audience. I tend to go blank when I do this. Wonder how the newsreaders of the 1970s and 1980s managed it. It goes without saying that I need at least a couple of hours of solitude. But some members of the media, who have not adhered to the deadline for submission of applications to cover the event, will have none of it. The phone keeps ringing, but I somehow manage. The day begins well, with the boys wrapping it up at the CCI. I get to go to the Brabourne shortly after the finish, and watch some of the celebrations, plus a fantastic photo-opportunity. The ‘snappers’ go berserk when they see the Dhoni of today being accosted outside the dressing-room by Farookh Engineer, the ‘Dhoni’ of the 1960s. After the 'present' Dhoni leaves, his predecessor tells Prof. Shetty and yours truly how he was denied the chance to play for India for a while in the 1960s, despite being included in the ‘World XI’ outfit during the same period. It is a true story, unlike another one of his that I (and surely many others) haven't been able to get over. It appeared in his official biography, which was released a few years ago. He claimed to have flown an aircraft over the suburbs of Mumbai, descended to ground level to fly 'under' a railway bridge, and then take to the skies. Well, even granting that the traffic situation in the 1950s wasn't as disastrous as it is now, this tale is clearly a case of taking things too far. Let's just say that the practical joker that he was in his heyday, Engineer decided to pull his biographer's leg, and the biographer allowed his leg to be pulled. The rest of the day passes by, with me hoping not to mess up on stage. As the Master of Ceremonies, it is my job to ensure that everything ‘flows’ smoothly, and so there are more than a few butterflies in the stomach. We then make our way to the venue. The stars and guests arrive, even as the sun vanishes from sight. The stage is set – literally. Prof. Shetty and Rahul chip in with some encouraging words. To say that it helps when your immediate boss and one of the greatest cricketers of all time do something like that, is an understatement. I go up on stage and start the proceedings. As is always the case, everything that happens thereafter is a blur. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I do know that everything is proceeding as per plan, and that is reassuring, as is the jacket that I am wearing/ It protects me against the 'fever' I always seem to have during such a function. It is quite ridiculous, really. Seated in front of me are our heroes, who practise their profession in front of an average of 50,000 spectators, day in and day out. And are bloody successful. And here I am, feeling 'feverish' and all that. The presentations happen one-by-one, and ironically, I cannot savour them, despite being only centimetres away from the action. But then, that is part of the job. I will savour them when I watch the DVD! A highlight of the function is the Ranji Trophy Platinum Jubilee segment, where Murali and Sachin felicitate their Ranji counterparts Rajinder Goel and Amarjit Kaypee respectively. It is a rare instance of the world’s highest wicket-taker and run-scorer being at the same function, and we simply had to capitalize on the same. The presentations are followed by one to Mumbai, for being the most successful side in the history of the competition. It is great to have Madhav Apte and Wasim Jaffer, torchbearers of two different generations separated by forty years, receiving the memento. A proud moment is the unveiling of the BCCI’s Ranji Trophy Platinum Jubilee volume by the President, and the captains of India and Sri Lanka. It is my compilation that they have unveiled, after all! The Mohinder Amarnath segment is also fun. It is an honour to share the stage and ask questions to an epitome of resilience. When I was six, the funniest sight in cricket, as far as I was concerned, was watching him run in to bowl. I had convinced myself that he was in the habit of drinking himself silly before taking the field. Why else would he amble in like that???? I was too young to appreciate his technique against pace and spin, not to mention his obsesion with fitness. 'Fitness' was what my favourite Amarnath moment was all about. It occurred in March 2001. PMG had organised a 'rematch' of the 1986 Tied Test in Chennai, between the Indian and Australian elevens that figured in that game. The players arrived at the Park Sheraton in Chennai at around 11:00 am on the day before the forty-over encounter. I had been assigned the responsibility of calling each of them in their respective rooms and invite them to the Media Conference, scheduled to be held in the bar of the same hotel at 11:30. I got through to each and every player, bar one. Amarnath was not in his room, and I could not quite figure out where he could have disappeared, minutes after checking in. A member of the hotel staff then let the cat out of the bag - he had gone to ............. the GYM!!!!!!! If he was like that at fifty, then one can only imagine what he must have been like in his thirties. Coming back to the ceremony, it concludes with Gautam, who will surely lead India in the future, receiving the Cricketer of the Year Award. After declaring it over, I make my way to the individuals whose feedback matters – Prof. Shetty, the President, the Secretary, and of course, SMG. I meet the Little Master first, and he uses the word ‘crisp’ twice, once prefixing it with ‘very.’ Phew! Have passed the test! Prof. Shetty then joins in, and he is followed by the President and the Secretary. The good words keep pouring from then on. It feels great, superb, splendid. All I can say is, “Thank you very much!” And then it is time to attack the chicken and desserts. And go home and sleep like a log.