Everybody F****

Boys do it. Girls do it. Every person who has visited this site has done it. The old do it. The young do it as well. In fact even kids do it. People across different countries & continents do it.

What is amazing is how you can do it anytime anywhere without any issues or problems. Yes sometimes doing it when someone is around is embarrassing & requires guts. But it is something that can be done just about anywhere. Most preferred seems to be the bedroom or the bathroom, some also do it in the kitchen, some on the living room sofa. Some prefer the outdoors, while some find comfort & ease in the car. In fact it can also be done when you are riding the bike. It was known that the employees do it even at their work place it is only now that it is in the news.

There is a lot of emphasis given these days to the position. Which position do you like, is the common question asked these days. Well there are a variety of positions that one can choose from for this. It all depends on one’s comfort level in such a position.

Yes, different people do it with varying sound levels. Some keep it quiet. Some make occasional noises. While a few others enjoy the loudness of it all. They seem to have great satisfaction & relief when they hear that high-pitched sound.

This has become so common & regular these days that we have begun to see this in Hindi movies. Our Hindi films were considered very clean & wholesome family entertainers. But nowadays families themselves have become broadminded & don’t mind taking in this when they watch it on their DVD or at the theatre in front of young & old from their family. Of course whether they watch & hear it in all seriousness or in a happy smiling way depends on the way it is portrayed in the movie.

As most things in life this too sometimes doesn’t happen the way people think it should happen. Sometimes they try too hard & it becomes that much more difficult. Some people consult doctors & take medication to ensure they have a comfortable & joyful existence.

The bottom line is everybody does it. It’s become a way of life. If somebody doesn’t do it he is probably not man enough for it. Or to be fair he’s got a problem & needs some help.

So take it easy & go ahead and do it freely. Enjoy the experience. The high & the relief when it is all over. So what are you waiting for go ahead and F***.

FART, I mean.

The boy, girl and the plastic bag

He was woken up when the dog jumped up on the bench and sat near his legs. With his right arm behind his head acting like a pillow & his legs stretched long, he looked at the sky above, yawning & scratching his face above the nose & in between his eyes. The view up above was clear. Dark sky, little stars here & there. The leaves of the trees around the bench shook & made a sound. It was cold that night. The torn & wretched vest & the shorts that the boy wore should have made the cold unbearable. But he didn’t seem to be affected. Years of sleeping on that bench had made him strong enough to brave the cold breeze without a shiver.

On the ground, a white plastic bag flew around in circles lifting with it dry leaves & small pieces of paper. He turned and watched the plastic bag. It floated in the air, sometimes flying high up, sometimes rubbing against the ground. Sometimes the air would get into it & it would fly like a blown up balloon. The flying & floating was like a dance. There was an element of ecstasy in its movement, a feeling of freedom.

Although the sight was very soothing to the boy, the interest with which he saw the plastic bag suddenly vanished & he turned back again & looked at the sky. He stared at it until he felt drowsy & went back to sleep again.

Elsewhere in the park & outside it the world moved on. Time ticked on. The road outside the park was choc a bloc with traffic. There was also a huge crowd gathered outside the park to eat roadside delicacies like chana, chaat, groundnuts, & bajjis. There were couples inside the park seated under huge trees enjoying the setting & each other’s company. In another corner of the park were young boys doing push-ups, stomach crunches or plain jogging in circles.

When the boy woke up again, the cold breeze had stopped. The dog was not sitting at his leg & the plastic bag had stopped flying. After having registered these developments he simply got up & walked, scratching his head at the back. He had a thick and healthy growth of hair on his scalp but it looked dirty & unwashed. His dark face had the tired & sleepy look. His eyes were hardly open. He rubbed his eyes, yawned & walked further on. When he saw the plastic bag lying on the grass stuck onto a stick, he walked up to it to release it. After doing so he threw the bag up in the air expecting it to fly like he had seen sometime back. But the bag hardly went up & came back down in a thud. The boy looked at the bag & then at the huge tree in front of him. The lack of any movement among the leaves hinted to him there was no breeze & that the bag wasn’t going to fly. He then walked towards the huge tree. On reaching it, he pulled down his shorts & peed. The small stream of urine flowed down behind him & wetted the plastic bag on its way.

Without caring to give a look behind, the boy then walked towards the exit of the park in front of the tree. That is where the snacks were being made, sold & eaten. As he walked, the quiet and the dark of the park began to give way to a faint din & the light emanating from the gaslights atop the pushcarts of the vendors. Pretty soon the din became louder. Traffic moved, honking along for people to move out of their way. People were talking, laughing & eating. Vendors screaming out their wares to attract the buyers.

A middle-aged couple exchanged a plate of bhel for 10 rupees. As if on cue, the boy was there in front of them, his hand held out asking for some spare coins, a rupee or so or if possible the whole plate of bhel itself. There was not a word from him, just a look of desperateness in the eyes, an act of crying without tears & the held out hand tugging at the man’s pant. The man tried to ignore him first. But the boy continued. Frustrated the man transferred the plate to the lady with him & searched for a rupee in his pockets. On finding it, he put the coin into the boy’s outstretched hand & turned around without giving the boy a look. The boy pocketed the coin & moved on. The desperateness was gone; the crying act was not in place anymore. His eyes only searched for the next target. He found one pretty soon.

People in a car were gorging onto a variety of things offered by a pushcart vendor who had named his pushcart, “Mohan’s Bombay Chaats”. The boy went up to the fat man seated in front next to the driver’s seat. The look of desperateness in the eyes, the act of crying without tears was back. He stretched his hand into the window close enough to touch the plate that the man was holding. This time he addressed his target as ‘saab’. “Saab, do din se kuch nahi khaya saab, kuch do saab”. The man looked up at the boy & replied “Ye, aage chal. Kuch nahi hai yahan”. The boy persisted, “do din se kuch nahi khaya saab”. Then without bothering to say much the man grabbed the boy’s hand & moved it out of the car & closed the window. The boy then tried his luck with the people seated behind. No on looked at him & neither did they ask him to go away. They continued eating, completely ignoring the boy’s presence. The boy gave up after some more attempts.

It was pretty late in the evening. Almost dinnertime. In some time all the customers would drive away from there to their homes. The boy had just a few minutes to get whatever he could from them. Money or food, food would be best. The boy looked around again. His eyes searched for a sympathetic soul who would part with some big amount or some food he or she was eating. That is when he saw a young girl seated on the edge of the footpath resting against the railing. The boy had a feeling that the girl was looking at him. Then he began to feel that the girl was probably tracking his progress ever since he came on to the scene there. He walked towards the girl. The girl looked away realizing that the boy was coming in her direction, and knowing that he will come up & ask her for something.

“Memsaab do din se kuch nahi khaya memsaab. Kuch khane ke liye do memsaab”. The desperation was not there & neither was the fake crying act.

“Kya khaoge tum?” asked the girl.

The boy was alerted by the question. Nobody really asked a question. Every body would either give something or ignore him or ask him to go away. But the girl had asked him what he wanted to eat.

“Kuch bhi chalega memsaab. Bhuke pet ke liye kuch bhi chalega”

The girl then went on to order a plate of Sev Puri from the vendor near by. Then she looked at the boy and asked him, “Naam kya hai tumhara?”

“Raja”.

“Kaha se ho?”

“Yahi se”

“Ghar hai? Kaha rehte ho?”

“Nahi. Yahi park ke ek bench par sota hoon”

“Raat ko thand nahi lagti?”

“Nahi. Aadat ho gayi hai”

“Aur kon hai tumhare saat. Ma. Baap. Bhai. Behan”

“Nahi koi nahi hai”

The girl looked at him with certain eagerness in her eyes. The boy tried to think why she was asking him so many questions. What was she going to do with that information? The Sev Puri was handed over to the girl. She looked at the boy & said, “Yeh lo. Kha lo”. The boy took the plate, looked at her and thanked her. “Shukriya memsaab”. And then sat down beside her to eat.

“Yeh kafi hai yaa aur kuch chahiye?”

The boy looked at the girl for a while & then at the plate. He wasn’t able to make up his mind. Even before he could say something, the girl ordered the vendor to give the boy another plate of Sev Puri. Then the girl went on to pay for the two plates. After paying she looked at the boy once again. The boy was eating like he hadn’t eaten in days. Then he looked up at the girl & muttered, “Shukriya Memsaab”. The girl smiled and walked away.

The boy watched the girl walk away. She was a beautiful girl. The boy hadn’t seen her at the park earlier. This was probably her first time there.

The breeze picked up again by then. The dust on the road & all the papers strewn there began to move & fly once again. The boy hurriedly finished off his second plate of Sev Puri and walked back to his bench inside the park. The noise outside had subsided because a lot of the crowd there had left by then. Inside the park dull lampposts took over from the bright gaslights on top of pushcarts outside.

There was a spring in the boy’s steps as he walked back to his bench. He jumped around, kicked a few stones with his bare legs and spread his arms wide to enjoy the breeze. With just a few meters away from his bench he saw that the white plastic bag was once again flying in the breeze. Floating. Dancing. He got excited when he saw the bag in the air for a long time.

He slowed down his pace as if not to disturb the bag’s movements. The bag flew higher in the air as if acknowledging the boys effort.

Sitting on the bench, the boy recollected the sequence of events over the previous few hours. He thought about the girl who bought his dinner for the night. He wondered why she did that to him. Especially buying him two plates of Sev Puri. Nobody had ever done something like that to him.

The plastic bag flew toward him & fell down in front of him. The boy picked up the bag and threw it again in the air. This time it flew, slowly rising & descending depending on the forcefulness of the breeze.

The boy sat back & watched. He was going to have a good sleep that night.

Write your Name. Leave a Mark.

All of us want to leave a mark behind. The value of which will be felt long after we are gone. Lets take the example of Kannada super star Dr. Rajkumar. The thespian actor of the South Indian language is no more amongst us today but what he did during his prime got him the respect and the adulation which was clearly on display at the time of his funeral recently. To me that is the perfect example of leaving behind a mark. Of course each of us leave our own mark behind in whatever we are involved in. Most times they are either at work or at home or something else that we are associated with, like a charity or a club. But this though is more about the literal thing. Leaving a mark in the literal sense.

You will find people leaving off their marks by scribbling their names in just about any place possible. The ones that are preferred as of today include the desks in schools & colleges, the Toilet walls, the backsides of public bus seats, the walls of historic monuments or the rocks enroute to the monument, the other day I saw two names neatly carved out on the footpath in some nondescript corner of some nondescript road. Looks like someone had been watching or had been plain lucky to be there at the place at the right time, for as soon as the cement was neatly applied to join two stone slabs somebody hurriedly wrote down their names. If all these could be called permanent options then there are some temporary options as well, like the walls of a building under construction especially the wall that is likely to be tiled. Such walls need to have a rough finish & the rough finish is given by drawing some designs on the walls or like you must know by now, writing names on it. The others among the temporary options include writing on a dust-laden car or on the sands in the beach.

Some people go to the extremes. Along the ever-increasing Q line in Tirupati you will find business cards clinging on to the tube lights. Do those who put it up there expect somebody to view the card & get back to them for business? Could be possible.

The literal leaving behind a mark thing has become such a big menace that we now find posters saying, “Please do not scribble on the wall” or “Please do not deface the walls”.

Wont it be a good idea if somebody came up with some innovative way of promoting this whole concept of leaving a mark. Really, I think it makes good business sense. How about a Name gallery that’ll display names on granite, marble & the other stones? Umm…. on second thoughts may be not a great idea. People have some innate fascination for their own names. Sudha Murthy has described candidly in one her books how some people will donate only if their name will appear on the granite blocks under the heading donors, little do they realize that nobody really gives a second look at those. Because who a Soubhagya Ramamurthy is or Govindraju Gowda is doesn’t really matter because nobody cares.

But then if not anything else a name is the only thing that each of us have, which is our identity, which we can call our own and which stays even after our body & soul is gone. That way what lives on forever is the name. That said naturally we want our name to be popular & well known by all, but does that mean we should resort to such desperate levels of making our names eternal?

Looks like a lot of people don’t quite agree to what the great bard asked once.

“What’s there in a name”? Well, quite a lot it seems.

The voice of we the people

Yesterday I got a forward in my inbox from one of my colleagues, which had the subject, “Please help me protest”. I opened it thinking may be the colleague had some serious issue at work & wanted to garner support towards it. But what I actually saw took me off guard. It was a mail about the proposed reservations of up to 50% for OBC’s in institutes of higher learning in India. After an introduction the mail posed the following question to me: “Are you ready to face the fact that - Our half of our nation will be nurtured not on the basis of merit but some other considerations (Sic)”. Then even before I could make up my mind it continued: “If you want to raise your voice against it, then please sign an online petition here”.

I not only signed in for the campaign but also sent a small note of appreciation to the person who started it.

This is not so much about my opinion on the reservations but the fact that I can have an opinion in the first place.

Not too sure if we ever had this much liberty to express ourselves? Today wherever you see you have opinions galore. The newspapers have articles written about what people think. Sometimes they have reproduced what is being said by bloggers in the blog world. Television news channels debate with the involvement of the general public, issues that are affecting the entire country. NDTV started it with ‘We the people’; now every news channel has programs that involve the general public. The latest thing that is catching on is the SMS polls that are available to us on one side to decide the fates of future singers, dancers and Miss Indias and on the other side to give our views on a variety of developments through the news channel polls.

This is a new revolution that is sweeping across the country, a revolution of garnering opinion and being a democracy we’ll find a variety of views on a variety of subjects. Not that nobody had any views earlier. They did. It’s just that today there is somebody to ask & a platform to speak out thus bringing them into national prominence. The reopening of the Jessical Lall murder case is only a result of this revolution.

As of now the only source to garner public opinion has been the media, both TV & print. We need more sources like that. Blogging seems like the next best media in this endeavor. But blogging has its disadvantages. The main one being that each blog is like one view & each blog stands on its own. It’s similar to each person having an opinion, now that alone can’t change much can it? For an impact to happen we bloggers have to become one somewhere somehow & speak with one voice and have one forum. Only then will the blogs be able to make a difference, else as of now with so many blogs around we only have writers and no readers and as a result no impact.

That said whatever little efforts are being made by the mainline media & bloggers is definitely praise worthy & should be continued with because like we have seen its worth the effort.

The value of one rupee

At a time when we hear of 1 crore salaries, thousands of crores of budget allocations & struggle to figure out how many zeroes it has, we seem to have forgotten about the ubiquitous 1 rupee in it all so much so that yesterday the Times of India (Bangalore edition) carried a front-page obituary of 1 crore. So now even a 1 crore is losing its value and you can imagine how long ago rupee one must have lost its value. We just seem to have taken for granted or completely ignored the fact that the crore salaries & the crores of budget allocations are made up of hundreds & thousands of the Rupee 1.

The lack of importance to rupee 1 is understood. Just like a newborn child takes the importance away from the other children in the family, the same way the thousands & crores are taking over.

It would be fair to say today that nobody values the value of one rupee. Big deal ‘its just small change after all’ seems to be our attitude. It’s the rupee that we hunt for in our pockets to get rid of the beggar at our car window; it’s the rupee we comfortably hand over to the guy who pumps up the tyres of our vehicles at the petrol pump, it’s the rupee that we don’t bother to take back as change when we buy products prized Rs 99 or Rs 159. It’s the rupee that we don’t mind dropping off at temples before we take the aarti. It’s the rupee that we joyfully put into the pumpkins on festival & pooja days & watch with glee when street urchins scamper to pick it up when you drop the pumpkin with as much force, it’s the rupee that we don’t mind giving to the five year old kid at home when she pesters you for some money so that she can go buy a chocolate.

It is also disturbing when people say, “It’s OK its one rupee after all”. For example when the auto driver or parking assistant harasses you for that extra buck that is the comment that comes from some people. Is it just a rupee after all?

Every rupee put together makes a bigger amount. When an auto driver or a parking assistant asks for the extra buck, to us it is just another rupee, but imagine on an average he does it with 10 people, he has earned 10 rupees that day which translates to 300 rupees in a month & 3600 rupees in a year. So is it just another rupee after all?

The beauty is in the power of the one rupee. If banks took it as a deposit it would earn you interest & become two rupees. If you bought something with it & sold it after you’ve added some value to it you’ve made some profit. If each of the taxpayers contributes one rupee extra along with their taxes towards an account for children’s education or elimination of poverty then thousands of children would be educated and there would be no poverty and India could actually call itself a developed nation.

One rupee is a small amount but of immense value. One of my colleagues has the following message in her signature. "VALUE HAS A VALUE ONLY IF ITS VALUE IS VALUED BY YOU".

We’ll leave it there.

Wardrobe Malfunction – Better Prevented

A model walks down the ramp (like the way Aamir Khan describes it in Rang de Basanti) left right left right, a thousand eyes are on her analyzing the dress worn by her for its cut, the look & whether it will rewrite the future of fashion. A dozen video cameras & photographers are waiting to capture those moments to telecast it later into millions of homes. Just when everyone thinks that it is going to be just another one of those shows comes the “ooohs”, the “aaahs”, the “oh my gods” and the “such a poor things”.

The live crowd just witnessed a wardrobe malfunction.

What is Wardrobe malfunction? In a very understandable & down to earth language, if the dress you are wearing lets you down & gives a peek at your assets its called wardrobe malfunction. For example it’s like the joker in the circus who does some acrobatics & in the process tears the stitches in the middle of his pants. We laugh & jump out of our seats & think we’ve got our money’s worth of entertainment and go home happily. But when a model in a fashion show accidentally (or deliberately?) tears her dress or her dress falls or slips off, your eyes & mouth open up wide, you skip a heartbeat, national headlines is made, the state assembly debates it & the police tries to figure out if it was illegal.

The media getting excited over a Wardrobe Malfunction is obvious. Beautiful model, pretty clothes and the pretty clothes falling off or tearing off the beautiful model, aha you have the next breaking news, flash news, news alert and what else do they call it? For that matter, imagine a wardrobe malfunction happening in your college fashion show, don’t you think the students there are going to get crazy about it & discuss it. The media is not blowing it out of proportion its just that today there are over a dozen news channels & all of them are 24/7. So what happens is most times they have to create news if there is none happening to ensure that there is a variety to the viewer any time he flips on to the channel. So invariably we had the recent wardrobe malfunctions news played on every channel with the images of Carol Gracias and Gauhar Khan beaming into our living rooms every half hour.

In today’s world something like this happening is really unfortunate especially for those involved because the video is going to be available in the form of MMS & sent across to thousands of people across the world and will also be there on the Internet. Thereby accidentally or deliberately they have entered the world of soft porn. Its time that the Fashion fraternity in India took some serious measures to counter this before it even threatens to become big. The government discussing the issue in the assembly is also being debated & criticized. There is nothing wrong in that. They are just doing their job. Their job is to discuss the different aspects of society & they did that. That per se is not wrong. The only thing is when politicians raise topics of this nature they need to look at all other areas as well where things like this can happen. If anybody has been to the bathing ghats of the Ganga or the Cauvery will understand what I’am talking about. Infact there are pictures being circulated as forwards of people bathing in the ghats & their wet clothes. Why doesn’t the government discuss that? It’s just that Fashion Week is an organized show and an incident happening there in front of video cameras will be given more coverage. The police have done the wise thing to let the incident pass by giving the benefit of doubt to the organizers.

All said & done the whole concept of a fashion show itself needs to be checked. Really what is their purpose: to show off clothes or to show off something else? What really is the difference between a Fashion Show & a Dance Bar? At least the girls who are employed in those dance bars wear more clothes and are completely covered (my knowledge of the kind of clothes dance bar girls wear is from the movie Chandni bar). Now compare that with the girls in a fashion show. Completely opposite don’t you think? Still nobody talks of a ban on the fashion show. Why? Also, at a fashion show, do people really come to appreciate the dress? How many times have we bought a dress by just looking at someone wear it? Aren’t dresses bought after touching it, feeling it, trying it on?

Wardrobe Malfunction – Prevention is better than cure especially when there is no cure.

PS: Never heard of a Wardrobe Malfunction involving a male model. How is that possible? Probably there lays the answer to how to prevent a wardrobe malfunction.

Speak Out and make a difference

We have heard of the term ‘speaking out’ haven’t we? It’s used often in the context of government work, companies, social issues & so on. Outlook magazine has the term as its byline and follows its philosophy. But what is speaking out really? Is it to highlight the wrongs that exist in a particular place? Is it to highlight the wrongdoers in a particular place? Well not really…

It is beyond just highlighting something right or someone wrong. Speaking out is being able to say what one feels. And what one feels is neither right nor wrong. And neither should it be only the negatives, it could also be about the positives. It is plain & simply what one feels. Why is it important to say what one feels? Because by saying what you feel, one, you are making your presence felt and two, you make it clear that just because a certain something is like this it doesn’t mean it is right. Also when you don’t say anything it comes across as acceptance or like it doesn’t make any difference to you whichever way things are, which is of course incorrect.

Lets take the case of our freedom struggle. If the likes of Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru and others didn’t speak up & let known their feelings about the British ruling India it is anybody’s guess what India would have been today. Even at that time a lot of people didn’t like the idea of an outsider which is what the British was, ruling them & telling them what to do & not to in a land that they were born & brought up on. End result the British left India to be ruled by Indians. Or lets take the more recent case of Jessica Lal after all the accused in her murder were let off for lack of evidence, the public took over and voiced what they clearly thought was money & power being the reason for the accused being let off & not lack of evidence. End result, Sonia Gandhi asks for some changes in the law, the police decide to try again with renewed vigor and the general public now have hope that the guilty will be punished.

But not everybody has the capacity to speak out & say what he or she feels. Speaking out for some weird reason requires a good helping of confidence. Confidence to be opposed, to hear others say you are wrong, to bear the brunt of rubbing off someone wrongly, to know that it could land you with dire consequences like may be you losing your job or in worse cases even being put into jail. But once this initial barrier of confidence is crossed then what starts is a life of making a difference. Making a difference to the way things are around, to the way people react & feel about various things and thus changing the whole system that exists.

Apart from the confidence issue the other reason why people don’t speak out is because they feel nothing will change. The movie Rang de Basanti captures this aspect beautifully. The fun loving, carefree youngsters only crib about the mess that the whole system is into and feel only one thing about it that it has already gone to the dogs & will never improve. Then an incident where one of their friends dies in an accident and its after effects triggers off the urge to do something & make a difference. Of course what they do thereafter is slightly at the extremes which cinematic creativity & license allows them to do. The same solution can’t be applied for every problem that exists today in our government, in our company, at home, school or locality.

So the need of the hour is to speak out. Everybody can do it. The easy way to start is with something that affects us everyday. Are there things at home that you oppose like curfews, pocket money etc? At work are there issues that needs to be dealt with like too much workload, no over time allowance etc? Speak out. Say it the way it is. Yes nothing will change over night. But it will, it should especially if what you are saying is right then nothing can stop it from becoming the next big revolution.

This is the story of the Balls

Heard of Balls? Got them? Everybody of course has it. Seen it. Felt it. Guys think they are the proud owners of it; girls are either into it or are not. If they are they play with it, if they are not they either like guys playing with it or are totally indifferent to it.

Balls: Passion. Pleasure. A never let down attitude. Reach the goal at any cost and reach it as many times as possible. Being kicked around by both boys & girls, by both young & old, at pubs, homes and beaches.

What comes to your mind when you think of the balls? Spirit of life? No future without them?

How true. Can we imagine a world without balls? Don’t you think it would be just too boring?

Yeah, considering the kind of involvement balls have in our lives it would be fair to say that they are very much part of our lives and decide to a large extent the extent of happiness and satisfaction one will have in his or her lifetime. This applies to every single ball. Whichever you take be it foot ball, baseball, cricket ball, basketball, tennis ball, golf ball, volleyball just about every ball has a role in our lives. Can’t imagine a child growing up without holding one in his hand & playing with it. Can’t also imagine a child of the future growing up into a life of ball less existence.

Its unbelievable don’t you think how a simple rounded movable object like the ball has such an important influence in our lives. The child wants to go play with it when you ask him to study. The couples fight over it when they decide whether to watch saas-bahu fare or the sports channel on TV. Players are not just booed but killed when they don’t play with it well enough to win (Remember Israel-Munich-football?). Political organizations dig up grounds to prevent a game involving the ball (Shiv Sena digging up a cricket ground to prevent the Paksistan Cricket Team from playing). And of course playing with the ball involves big money. Learning a game like golf involving one of the smallest balls around could set you back by a few thousand dollars. When you master the game rest assured for success, fame & money. In fact players today don’t make money just playing well with the ball but also by not playing well (match fixing). There are companies who are making money just making balls, there are sports organizations making their share just by organizing the match or the tournament.

The very basic necessity in a game is the ball. Simply put there can be no game of basketball, football, cricket, baseball etc if there is no ball. But what does the ball itself get in all this. Being spat on (cricket) kicked around (football) and hit around (cricket, baseball). No publicity and no recognition for their contribution to mankind through the sport they are associated with.

This is the story of the balls. Dirty, Sweaty, Smelly but still liked. Still enjoyed.