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By Moody Marty | Opening Doorz Editorial | November 10, 2025 Just For Laughs: Padded Amnesia Suddenly, everyone remembers he was padded up as Sachin and Kambli broke records. But […]
By Moody Marty | Opening Doorz Editorial | November 10, 2025
Suddenly, everyone remembers he was padded up as Sachin and Kambli broke records.
But where were these ‘experts’ for 37 years? Amol got his pads off after that 1988 Azad Maidan match and piled up runs in domestic cricket.
He never stayed in that ‘hut’ all these years.
Yes, cricket was cruel to him. The runs came, but no India cap.
Even when the late Gaundalkar brought Amol to me in 1988, after the Sachin-Kambli heroics, no one mentioned he was padded. Neither Amol nor Gaundalkar mentioned it. As far as I know, no sports pages covered it. This includes the Free Press Journal (where I worked) and The Times of India, Indian Express, Daily, Bulletin, or The Afternoon.
Now, after he has led the Indian Women’s cricket team to World Cup glory, Tom, Dick, and Harry remember that he was padded. And mind you, some of these (I mean, them) were not even born.
“Success has a 500-member extended family; Failure has zero relatives.” That’s the oldest truth in the book!
Amol himself will be guffawing in a corner, reading these ‘online remembrance’ of his school ‘padded’ days!
No pun on ‘Paddy’ the late Padmakar Shivalkar…. if you know what I mean!!!
The Shernis of Indian Cricket are getting the full-on rockstar welcome in every single state. But hold the phone! Our TV reporters are right there with the ultimate Dal Chawal question of Indian journalism: “Kaisa lag raha hai?”
You see the girl’s smile, that professional, slightly weary athlete-who-just-flew-across-five-states-and-won smile. But if you hack into their minds, you’d hear: “Yaar, yeh kaunsa sawaal hai? Lag toh humein achcha raha hai, obviously, we just won the whole dang thing! What do you want, a detailed psychoanalysis?!”
But hey, this is the national anthem of questions. You win a match? “Kaisa Lag raha hai?” You somehow manage to paddle into a home that’s flooded like an Olympic swimming pool, and spot a poor soul marooned on their double bed? Pop goes the mic: “Kaisa lag raha hai?”
You sneak into a hospital room, shove the mic right at Vinod Kambli, and ask: “Kaisa Lag raha hai?” The person has just lost a dear one, they’re literally mid-mourning… and if you somehow manage to slip past the family: BAM! “Kaisa lag raha hai?”
Lag toh raha hai, boss! The real question is: Aap ko kaisa lagega? What kind of Volcano of Jawaab would erupt from you if someone, right now, grabbed that shiny microphone from your hand and shot back: “Aur Aap ko kaisa lag raha hai, yeh itna behuda sawaal baar-baar pooch ke?”
Seriously, the existential dread of this question! Kyu lag raha hai? Kabhi lagega? Kab tak lagega? Lagna zaroori hai? Sabko lag raha hai?!
It’s not a question; it’s a philosophical crisis wrapped in a microphone foam!
Alexa came into my life on this day, six years ago. And since then, she has been my go-to friend for music. Late at night, she lulls me to sleep. During the day, if I need a lift, she plays just the thing—no questions, no judgements.
But here’s the thing: Alexa isn’t just playing music. She’s conducting a psychological assessment of my soul every single day. The moment I say, “Alexa, play my favourite songs,” she’s not merely running code. She’s unlocking a time capsule of repressed emotion and midlife introspection.
One minute, I’m in deep reflection with Leonard Cohen, contemplating the meaning of existence. And the very next track? Nazia Hassan wants me to Disco Deewane like it’s 1982. It’s a magnificent, if slightly bewildering, arrangement: Paul Anka. Dana Winner. Julio Iglesias. Tom Jones asking, “What’s New Pussycat?” And Chris Norman, forever ready, forever loyal.
And they will keep going… all of them… in glorious emotional chaos… until I utter the one command that restores order to the universe:
“Alexa, stop.”
Ultimately, yes—I did it my way.
For the record, Alexa was born on November 06, 2014.
All Images: AI Generated
[Moody Marty: Sometimes funny, sometimes informative, always downright forthright!]
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