dear dr. mallya:

at the outset, let me clarify that i am no fan of the royal (laughter) challengers. on paper, they were a dull, uninspiring, utterly random team. on the field, they make that description seem flattering. their efforts have gone from lame (82 all out v. kolkata) to struggling (final over victories v. mumbai and hyderabad) to amusing (126 v. mohali) to downright pathetic (143 v. mohali just last night).

i’m not even a great supporter of the hype-pl, it’s way too much cricket, night after night. not only has it dented my reading, it has also completely eradicated all other telly watching for me. don’t get me wrong, i think it’s sweet and inspiring to see the pakistanis play alongside the indians, and it touches me deeply to see the country-neutral teamsmanship, especially in outfits like chennai super kings, delhi daredevils, and rajasthan royals. but it’s still too much.

however, i’m digressing. this post isn’t about the ipl, or even about the royal challengers. this is purely about your stunningly atrocious behaviour (as documented by the media, and i do hope your pr agency makes you go over the news reports again and again, so that you may see what an ugly spectacle you make) of the past few days.

in fact, i’m in grave danger of sympathising with the challengers, as i now believe you are single-handedly responsible for their dismal performance.

think i’m being harsh? let’s take a look at your ipl-related activities (bit lofty to call them achievements):

1a. you take your popular whiskey brand, add an ‘r’ to it, and then explain it away as a whole new concept — “born in bangalore to thrill the nation”, etc. huh? does that even mean anything?

1b. just for kicks, you also plaster the logo onto other teams with space for sale: like the rajasthan royals. (and no, i don’t buy the ‘royal’ connection, as at least two other teams are ‘kings’.)

1c. after seeing the happy ‘fly emirates’ branding on epl teams like arsenal, you’ve gone and pasted ‘fly kingfisher’ on all umpires. copycat.

2. you appoint, as brand ambassador, a hongkong-born, hawaii-bred, british citizen — who lives in mumbai!

3. you advertise, shaan se. and continue to advertise!

4. you wax eloquent about the wonderful team you, rahul dravid, and charu sharma have put together. three weeks later, you talk about some other ‘list’ of players you had in mind but somehow — magically, wondrously, unbelievably — couldn’t assemble.

just one question, dr. mallya: why?

are dravid and charu sharma so influential that you couldn’t get a word in edgewise? or was the auction money outsourced? or were you just hungover/ jetlagged/ drugged silly/ temporarily insane?

besides, who in the world foisted sharma upon you?

sure, dravid was an icon, and therefore came with the territory, but if you really didn’t want him, you could’ve bid for another city, couldn’t you? god knows either the kingfisher or rc brands are appearing on more than three-quarters of the teams.

since you come from a business background, let me ask you this: if you launch a new product, and it fails to take off, wouldn’t you promote it aggressively, i.e., reward people for buying it? so why aren’t you trying to incentivise your team, instead of bashing them in the press? remember, they couldn’t care less: you’re still bankrolling them for the next three years, unless they get traded next february. (and yeah, i can see the other franchises falling all over themselves to take kallis and joshi off your hands.) ironically, it’s young charu who’s saying all the right things in print, at least.

another, slightly more dire solution would’ve been to pull the product. (and not fire the product manager. gracelessly. and without a media gag in place.)

don’t you feel the liberation of being the bottom-ranked team in the league? you could play an all-indian team for the next match, in a mad display of patriotism. or an under-25 team (i’d say under-19 but hey, unlike me, you’re into older men). or bench dravid and make kohli captain, in an irreverent hat-tip to his under-19 world cup victory? or, indeed, any crazy combination you feel like? say what, if the rules allow it, how about opening the batting yourself? maybe with katrina at the other end — she’s a kaif, isn’t she?

why not turn the rest of the ipl season into one giant party?

have you learned nothing at all from your force india outing? now sitting pretty at no. 10 on the overall ranking. with zero points. (yes, there is a no. 11, and yes, they’ve withdrawn from the championship.)

or your stunning politicial debut in 2000? yeah, the one where your party didn’t win a single seat, in spite of contesting almost all 224 of them?

come on, dude, you should understand losing well enough. or is the only spirit you understand the kind that comes in a bottle?

you’ve taken a crap, underperforming team, and actually justified it by being an arrogant, insensitive ‘owner’. maybe, in all that ranting about the corporate implications of team sport, you’ve forgotten that you are still the larger, more visible, most permanent face of united spirits.

and boy, does that face make me cringe.

in a futile attempt to distract myself from the bone-dry nature of this weekend thanks to the intrepid efforts of the karnataka government, headed over to pimp my search.

what can i say, i’m easily amused.

may 21’s the day for the great man u-chelsea battle. in moscow.

this, courtesy football guardian:

guess it was only a matter of time. say hello to literature map.

the official indiana jones widget. movie opens may 22.

as popularised by carroll, not mayer.

turns out i’m alice — flaky dreamer extraordinaire, and possessor of the original overactive imagination.

check out which character from the classics you might be, at oxford world’s classics.

here’s the new upgrade for your vocabulary. please download, install, and use. (or at the very least, laugh.)

salmon day: the experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream, only to get screwed and die.

sinbad: single working girl - single income, no boyfriend, and desperate.

percussive maintenance: the fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.

beer compass: the invisible device that ensures your safe arrival home after a pub crawl, even though you’re too drunk to remember where you live, how you got here, and where you’ve come from.

tart fuel: bottled premixed spirits, regularly consumed by young women.

and, my favourite…

picasso bum: a woman whose knickers are so small for her, that she looks like she’s got four buttocks.

the new year usually fits quite well into in my slavish pursuit of new. however, the craziness of the past few months has lent some much-needed perspective to life. and here are some of the things — not necessarily new — that matter:

1. there is no it. really.

2. dogs. sunny beaches. friends. books. wine. some of the most fabulous things in the world don’t care how you look, how much you make, and what you did last summer.

3. the fundamental interconnectedness of everything. yes, it does exist outside of douglas adams and scripture.

4. however balanced your life may be, i’ll bet a lot of money that you still aren’t making enough time for the stuff that makes you laugh, or think, or be yourself. 

5. in the words of norah jones, it’s not too late.

here’s hoping your year is new.

just read this.

atwood, man. she’s lovely.

pretty damn vast, alleges the guardian quiz you could take here.

this is what they have to say about my super-lucky 7/ 10: excellent! clearly, you were one of those irritating people who took five languages at a-level. a career in niche translation beckons.

or a card game. happy diwali, oh teeny tiny audience of mine.