403 Forbidden !

Dear Rafael Nadal, There are things that I have loved to watch in my life and a package of that would comprise of - a Federer backhand, a Tendulkar straight drive, a Messi nutmeg through pass and a Lin Dan net wobble (as one commentator named it). As apparent as it may look, let me further clarify, I am a believer of methods than the madness, of poise and elegance rather than raw power. One thing that I hate to love is that top spinning forehand winner; that which brought down the likes of perhaps the greatest, Roger Federer, to his knees.  I followed your career sincerely, not with interest but with fear and even a tinge of hatered as you stole one grandslam after the other from Feder. I watched that Wimbledon final you lost. It was not the first time that Federer had out-tempered an opponent and certainly not the last. We had all seen Roddick come so close and give it his all only to be outclassed by Federer year after year. I can't say that I didn't appreciate your...

She looked around to ensure no one was around; a Rs. 100 note in such a big house was something no one would ever notice. She prayed to God for all that was wrong and how it was possible without such miserable deeds but somehow things were slipping out of hands. Her inner selfishness confronting all that was good in the world. There were so many worse off people trying to make ends meet with honest methods. She never had the best of formal education but all she was ever taught was values and the importance of one’s character when the times were tough. She continued sweeping the floor. The time had moved on and so had life – the only feeling that had transcended the dimension was that of guilt. What had also remained unchanged was a hidden desire to cheat the world which had been so unfaithful, desperate and desolate. Those occasional saves of a couple of hundred bucks had ensured she had enough to buy a few old books to be officially called ‘literate’. Jobs had switched hands and...