The Delectable Tale that is The Lunchbox

Dear Mr.Ritesh Batra, Where were you all this while?

The Lunchbox makes one ask this question. The movie is alluring, yet poignant. Remorseful, yet fulfilling. When you leave the movie theatre and head back home, The Lunchbox gives you a bittersweet feeling.

A bit on the premise of the movie. The Lunchbox is about two lonesome individuals; Saajan Fernandes, a widower approaching his retirement and stuck in an extremely mundane, desolate life and Ila, a housewife & caring mother, neglected by her husband due to his extra-marital affair. The story is centered on the dabbawalas delivering Ila’s dabba, meant for her husband, to a wrong address, i.e. to Saajan. When she realizes that the meal she had prepared for her loving husband was eaten by someone else, she writes a small note along with the dabba the next day. Saajan writes back and the irresistibly sweet tale of the budding friendship/love of two strangers commences. They exchange notes daily sharing with each other their lives, loneliness, dreams and memories of their dear ones. Go watch the movie and don’t wait for me to let out the entire story.

Performances. We all know the genius that Irfan Khan is. In one of his best performances till date, Irfan as Saajan makes a really complex character come to life with ease. His expressions, melancholy in his eyes and his body language as a loner, right upto the slight changes in his mannerisms when he opens up to Ila and falls in love with her. Phenomenal. In one of his letters to Ila, he writes “We forget things when there is no one to tell them to”. He emancipates this, through his performance.

Nimrat Kaur as Ila, is exceptionally good. Her performance as a house wife framed by neglect, stuck within the realms of her house is near perfect. She embodies the spirit of lacs of housewives who don’t often get to experience the kind of world many of us take for granted. The couple of scenes where she interacts with her mother (played by Lilette Dubey), her subtle expressions are a treat to watch.

Nawazuddin Siddique as Shaikh gives a charming performance. Shaikh is the cheery, optimistic guy poised to take over from Saajan at work. His attempts at bonding with Saajan, in spite of the latter’s reluctance, are endearing & funny to watch. He does absolutely no harm to his claims as one of the finest actors in the country at present.  There is also Auntyji, who lives right above Ila’s house and keeps giving her tips on cooking. She is the one who gives Ila the idea to send Saajan a letter to start with. I wish I could  thank Auntyji for that, but the movie doesn't give a face to her voice.

The real hero of the movie is debutant director, Ritesh Batra and his magnificent script. In an age of whatsapp, SMSes and Social Media, he scripts a charming love story relying on hand written letters hidden in lunchboxes. His story gives one an essence of the loneliness that harbors inside an individual, in the hustle-bustle of metros and how their lives go on with the hope, that someday things will get better. His treatment of the characters shows his understanding of the complexity of human emotions. One can’t wait to see what he has in store for us next.

I’ll give The Lunchbox a 5 on 5. It is one of the best love stories ever told in Indian cinema. It teaches you about love in the most subtle of ways. Go watch it, they don’t make them like this anymore.

A Guide on How NOT to Use your Social Media!

Last week, a 20 year old young lad from Coimbatore committed suicide because he wasn't able to see Vijay's movie, Thalaiva, on the day of the release. Usually, the death of a person is reason to mourn. But this time, It was more of disgust. Three reasons -

• Why would someone kill themselves over someone who they have no emotional bond with?
• Why would someone kill themselves over something which will constitute just 3 hours of their life?
• Why would someone kill themselves at all?

What was the reason behind the young man taking such a drastic decision over a movie? Was he proving himself to be a “true fan”? Or was he just an idiot?

Nowadays, celebrity fandom is at an unimaginable high . The more one thinks of it, Social Media is the dominant reason for this. How? Let's try to think this out.

The humankind mimics, by nature. We humans subconsciously mimic when we are in a conversation with an individual, especially if they share similar interests. This is done to empathize with the speaker or the social circle or the community at large. What is to be noted is that an individual mimics through social interaction. In today's era, where social media is mightier than a pen or sword, the interaction is significantly more. People follow one another on twitter, actively argue on fan pages on Facebook and more often than not, push oneself over the edge.

10 years ago, when Social Media was in its embryonic stage and Internet was still in making its transition from from Dial-Up to Broadband, social interaction was restricted to one's actual social circle. No, not the Google + circles. People used to discuss on any topic within their circle, and the possibility of the discussion spreading across other similar groups, or going viral, was extremely remote.

Fast forward 10 years, Social Media plays the cruel parasite which has the power to not just spread any discussion to numerous social circles, but to twist, mutate and shape shift in ways the reciever wants to concieve. Chinese whisper on the web, if you may. Celebrities more often than not play the role of an Epiparasite. And we humans, play the hosts to the parasitic ambitions of Social Media. The idea is very similar to that of Meme Theory.

Everytime, a new major movie is up for release we see the twitterati explode with millions of tweets on how the movie is either going to be orgasmically good or it's going to be an insult to the intelligence of the masses. It is perfectly fine for someone to express their opinion on Social Media. But being the parasitic hosts we are, we feed these ideas onto other similar hosts (read retweets, shares, likes etc). Once the parasitic infection reaches a given level where it becomes “cool”, mimicking springs into action. People who may not even be remotely interested in being a part of the menagerie to begin with are sucked into it.

Just as this blog was being written, Sachin Tendulkar tweeted something about his support of the MARD initiative. Fair enough. The disheartening part of all this is the tweets by his so called fans. Tweets like “God is back to twitter”, “I joined twitter only to check Sachin's tweets”, “OMG, Sachin is here. My day has been made” etc were a dime a dozen. The last I checked, there was just 1 tweet supporting the Initiative as compared to 10 random, meaningless tweets? Needless to say, it is quite unnecessary.

The weeks leading upto Chennai Express's release,it was a pain looking at my TL and FB wall. It was either fans going gaga over SRK's brilliance or how it will be the worst movie in the history of the planet. Similar was the case before the release (Or Non-Release) of Thalaiva. There was this one section of Vijay “fans” bickering about how they will watch the movie FDFS and watch it n number of times. When the news of its non-release spread, there were innumerable tweets/posts about how people won't watch any other movie till its release.

The human mind is tweaked in a way that it accepts and processes information that is readily accessible, regardless of its credibility. With a freeflow of not particularly sensible information on Social Media, our minds are subconsciously filled with what we see (Oh, she had this dessert at xyz, it looks so yummy, I wanna eat it too) or what we read (Oh, he is reading the Homer’s Illiad, what a pretentious douche) to what we engage in (Let me spam this page with racial slurs and sit back and enjoy the backlash) . It has come to a point where we fail to distinguish between what to embrace and what to ignore.

Let us not forget that social media is a wonderful tool to stay in touch with people and establish contacts, participate in healthy discussions over controversial matters and receive new perspectives of people whom you might have never even met. All we are saying is that when you post a status asking the 800 friends on your list (quarter of which you don’t know personally) “what should I eat for dinner?”, what makes you think anyone cares. You might argue that people got back to you on that post. Some suggesting what you can eat, others might’ve listed the dishes on their three-course meal and an odd one or two would’ve politely asked you to sod off.

All we are saying here is that use the tools to make something constructive or at least amusing. If you take them and bash them against one another then all you make is noise and that my dear, adds chaos in the cosmos.

PS: Thanks to +Bhavya Sharma for helping me make some sense out of this blog. 

Five Types of People You See At a Mall

Malls. Everybody loves them. The sheer variety of brands and shops in the malls makes it the United Nations of the retail world. Let’s take Chennai’s very own Phoenix as an example. We have the very Indian Big Bazaar right next to the very American Brooks Brothers. The irony of all of this being that, 90% of the people who visit malls do anything but shop.

Does that Include me? It probably does, not that it is a fault of mine. With Phoenix being a couple of hops from my place, I drop in whenever I am bored or there is a power-cut  You can’t expect me to shop every time. So, my favourite activity in malls is observing people and their idiosyncrasies. One gets to see such a vivid assortment of personalities that it seldom gets boring. Based on my observations, these are the 5 kinds of people you will certainly encounter in any mall.

The “I wear Shades, that instantly makes me about 279 times cooler than you” guy – Oh no. I have nothing against people wearing sunglasses. I mean it’s a perfectly sensible fashion statement while you are out there in the sun or on a beach. But wearing sunglasses inside a mall which has a fair blast of Air conditioning and enough provision to prevent sunrays from permeating inside? That is as wannabe as it gets. These guys can often be seen in tight tees, faded jeans, a ‘cool’ chain with some weird pendant dangling around their necks and sneakers on their feet. The strut in their walk is enough for people to mistake them to be the owner of at least one of the shops. The truth is you will seldom see them carrying even a single shopping bag. They are too cool for shopping now, aren't they?.

The “Isn’t this the Lakme Fashion Week?” girl – There is a section of the female sex which believes that one needs to get decked up in the best possible party clothes to visit a mall on a dull Thursday evening. Why? No one will ever know. These girls are often seen in small clusters, walking ever so slowly, blocking the entire corridor and forcing the people behind them to slow down in their endeavors. They can be found in stores like The Body Shop, Chemistry, Enamor, Parcos etc. Unlike the cool dude above, these pretty lasses do tend to shop at times.

The Big Bazaar family – “Papa, I want to buy that black skirt from Zara”. “Beta, you will get the same stuff in Big Bazaar for half the price. Why waste money?”. The family that stays together, shops together. In Big Bazaar. For them, Big Bazaar = Mall. You got to give it to them, for anything you get inside a mall, is also available in Big Bazaar, and at a much lesser price. Big Bazaars are strategically located besides the car park in malls. So, the BB family (No, not Blackberry) parks their car, goes to Big Bazaar, gets their groceries for the month, buys 2 black skirts for Rs.1200 rather than one from Zara at Rs.2000, collects their freebies and shoots back home. Happy Family, Economic Family. Mall gaya bhaad mai Family.

This is what a Mall will look like when people come just to shop. Deserted.

The Food Court gang – “Live to eat” is passé. “Live to eat in Food Courts” is the new mantra. Or At least that's what a certain percentage of people live by. These people come in a raucous gang of at least 4, roam through each and every corridor the mall has to offer, but never get inside any shop. After an hour or so spent wafting, the Food Court beckons them. They spend at least 2 hours here. The money they spend in eating and wasting food in one day will be enough to pay the credit card bills of an average American. Once they are done gorging, they spend an hour more wafting in the corridors to ensure indigestion stays away. A day well spent.

The Photographers – Save the best for the last they say. I say, save the most annoying for the last. Yes, this bunch of people is the most annoying lot that exists in a mall. These people are proof that smartphones or DSLRs and douchebags is a match made in the sacred garden of tomfoolery.  How else does one justify people getting their photos clicked in front of absolutely any form of art, banners of brands, with a can of pepsi, with a pizza in hand and what not? How else is blocking the entire corridor for a good minute just to get the perfect pic clicked rational? How else is getting yourself clicked in a dress which you have absolutely no idea of buying, with a stupid duckface excusable? And finally, how else does a ‘wearing shades and staring into the distance’ pose make sense inside a freaking mall? There should be an exclusive photography zone in each mall to quench the thirst of this bunch. The malls will be a much better place then. 

Bat n Pad - The Online Cricket Store

Cricket. As clichéd as it may sound, It is a religion in India. Whatever be the format, there is an audience for it. Ok, to be truthful, probably Test Cricket is not the preferred format in India, but you do get what I mean. There will be scandals, losses and talks of the Sport being on the decline. But truth be said, Cricket will easily survive and is here to stay.

Being such a huge relevance in the country, It comes as quite a surprise that there is no single store or business, which has its focus solely on cricket. Yes, we do have many multi sports stores which sell cricket merchandise. This is where the idea of Bat n Pad was conceived.

We aim to target a specific audience for our goods but welcome all those love what we have to offer and wish to associate themselves to our brand. Bat n Pad is only limited to clothing retail presently but product diversification is on the cards. We aspire to cater to all your cricketing needs.

We will be launching our operations very shortly. The sales and operations in Chennai will begin first. We will be shipping to places all over India within 30 days. To stay in touch with us, to know more about us check out our Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/BatNPad). And when you do it, you may as well like it.

The Republic of Molossia - A Micronation

I have been reading quite a bit about Micronations off-late and it has been fascinating. The very idea that a few people consider themselves to be above their own nation and consider having their own country is as absurd as it is funny. So, a micronation is an entity/person that claims itself to be an indepentent nation or state, though it is not recognized by the concerned global organizations (Read United Nations). They claim sovereignty over the physical territory they exist upon and even have their own currency, flags and national anthems; all this while not being recognized as a separate nation.

There have been quite a few micronations springing up around the globe, but the one I am going to talk about here is the one which has kindled my interest the most. The Republic of Molossia. This micronation was founded by Kevin Baugh and is spread over a "monstrous" area of 1.3 acres. It consists of 1 house, i.e. Kevin's own house which doubles up as the Government house. It has its own flag and its own Time Zone. And its capital is Espera.

This “country” lies in the state of Nevada. Lying adjacent to the city of Dayton, this country consists of Kevin's house, 0.0001 acres of free land and another tiny property. It is surrounded by Nevada on all sides (quite obvious that). Apart from this piece of land, Molossia also lays claim to Vesperia, which happens to be 49,881 sq miles of land on the planet, Venus and a spot in the Pacific Ocean named Neptune Deep, which lies about 750kms southwest of Mexico. Oh Yes, You are reading it right.

This mirconation also has a fledging tourism industry. They offer you guided tours of the entire property and has micronation themed art installations to attract tourists. You should possess a valid passport though and all these tours are by prior arrangement. In case you are going to Molossia do ensure you dont carry Tobacco and Incandescent light bulbs with you. Don't ask why. Just don't do it. 

This micronation also has a website of its own. You must check it out. Or check out its wiki page to know more about it. Oh yes! did I tell you that Kevin Baugh also happens to be the President of this nation?

The President of the Republic of Molossia

Sports Fiction - The Redemption That wasn't

 Year 2008 – India vs Australia, 5^th ODI, Mumbai. Series Decider

*This match is going down to the wire. 9 required now of the last over. Sachin Tendulkar has played a lone hand for India, yet again. Can he finish things off? It will be Shiv though facing up to Brett Lee, Here we go* rung Ravi Shastri’s voice

Shiv was sweating and nervous. The manic crowd atmosphere wasn't of much help either. *Sachin, Sachin clap clap clap* echoed around the stadium. The pressure was on him to take an all important single and give Sachin, his God the strike. To make matters worse, it was his debut. He was 27 years old. A late debut for an Indian Cricketer, but he had finally made it to the big league. He had given a decent bowling performance picking up 2 wickets for 45 runs. But this was much more than he had bargained for. He had hoped the batsmen would finish the job, but no. Shiv checked on his gloves, adjusted his helmet, took a deep breath, tried to calm his anxiety and took guard.

Brett Lee was charging in. Shiv had seen this on TV before. He was used to sitting with his friends and watching in awe as Lee charged in towards the batsmen. But now, he was facing THE Brett Lee himself. No, there was no way he could do this. He backed off from the delivery at the last instance. *Sachin, Sachin* had now changed to *Booooooooo*. Shiv wasn’t sure what was going on. Sachin walked up to him, kept a hand on his shoulder and said “Don’t worry man, You will be alright. Just put bat on ball, and run. Go for it, Let’s do it for our team”. Shiv nodded meekly.

Sachin walked back to the non-striker’s end. It was only then something struck Shiv. Sachin had just told him it will be alright. SACHIN had told him. Everything had to be alright then. With a new found confidence, Shiv took guard. A charging Brett Lee now looked like a Mozart's piece in motion. It could do no harm. With each of Lee’s steps, Shiv’s confidence bolstered. Lee unleashed one of his lethal bouncers. Shiv closed his eyes, semi-ducked and semi-swayed away from the incoming ball, lifted his bat above his head, shouted “jai mata di” and wafted his bat in the air. And ran. In spite of all his theatrics, the ball had dropped just behind the stumps. He ran, Sachin ran, Lee ran, Wade dropped his keeping gloves and ran, David Warner, from point, ran.

*A Nasty bouncer from Lee, Shiv gets his bat on ball. The ball drops just behind the stumps. This could be a tight run*    

Shiv saw nothing but the non-striker’s end. He had never run this fast. For that instant, he looked like an Indian Olympic hopeful. As soon as he neared the crease, he put in an almighty dive and made it. He felt relieved, kind of elated. Sachin was going to be on strike now. 8 required of 5. Easy that. But the relief was only for a wee bit. The crowd was hushed. There were a few celebratory calls, but they sounded foreign. He checked the stumps at his end, the bails were intact. "Oh Damn, don’t tell me what I think has happened",

*That is a massive blow*

Shiv got up and turned back ever so slowly.

*Shiv, on debut, might have just cost India the match here*

The Australians were mobbing Wade and ruffling his hair.

*Sachin is gone for 97. India in deep trouble. The Australians will think this is in their hatchet. But as they always say, It aint’ over till the fat lady sings*

Yes, That man with Jersey No.10 was walking back to the pavilion. The crowd was stunned. Sachin Tendulkar was run out trying to attempt a non-existent single. Shiv, on debut, had run the Little Master out.  In Mumbai. Sachin’s home ground. He hung his head in shame. Shame was too soft a word. He was standing there at the non-striker’s end feeling like digging a ditch right beside the pitch and burying his face in it. The fat lady had sung for him. 

Year 2018- India vs Australia, Bengaluru. T20 World Cup Final

*The crowd is electric here as the match has come down to the wire. 10 required of the last over for India to lift the T20 trophy. Shiv in his final match, will it be a fairytale ending for him?*

Shiv was standing in the non-striker’s end. This was his final match. He had called it quits. He had quite an accomplished career. His batting had improved drastically since his horrific debut match and had a decent bowling record to go with it. He was India’s long impending answer to the “Who after Kapil Dev” question.

In spite of having a career which included a T20 WC win in 2016, overseas test series victories in South Africa and Australia, and 10 test match tons, It was his debut which flashed in his mind as the match approached the last over. It was 10 required of the last over again. He was donning the role of a senior batsman now. No, he was most certainly not thinking of himself as Sachin Tendulkar. That would have been criminal. Nor was the person batting along with him exactly a debutant. He had 10 matches behind him. But, somehow he felt this was similar. He felt a sense of deja vu.

India had lost that match by 7 runs due to his ineptness, and hence had lost a home ODI series. The situation was quite similar today. India needed 9 runs to get of the last over with just 2 wickets remaining. Shiv was on 32 and couldn't take a single of the last ball of the penultimate over.  Prashant was going to be on strike. He had to ensure that Prashant didn't make the same mistake. The single had to be taken first ball. Period.

The stakes were much higher here. It was the finals of a world tournament. Shiv wanted to make his exit in the grandest style possible. He wanted to hit the winning shot. He was probably being selfish, but for all that he had done for Indian Cricket he felt this was pardonable. On second thoughts, he wasn't really being selfish. Shiv facing 5 balls would win the match for India. Where is the selfish here? But this was about redemption. His debut performance had always been hurting him. He could change everything with this match, or so he felt. His mind was clouded with all these random thoughts.

The stadium was buzzing. The final was in Bengaluru. Not in his hometown. Phew! At least one thing that is not similar. He looked back at who was being given the ball. James Pattinson it was. AH! There goes another similarity. A fast bowler. Why can’t it be Glen Maxwell? Shiv met Prashant in a mid-pitch conference. “I am not gonna tell anything different. Just take a single. First 5 rounds is on me tonight”. Prashant just smiled and nodded. Shiv was confident that Prashant will do a much better job of this than he had done in THAT fateful match. He smiled to himself and went back to the non-striker’s end. Edgy, smiling and somewhat confident.

*So, here we go. Pattinson Charging in. It’s the rookie Prashant on strike. Can he sneak in a single from somewhere*

As Ravi Shastri’s voice was rumbling the television sets at home, the Bengaluru crowd was buzzing with excitement and nervousness.  Shastri with his clichés was right for once. Pattinson was actually charging in. Prashant looked confident, but his heart must have been thumping.

It was a bouncer. Another similarity. Prashant brought out his best hook shot. But it was only as good as getting a top-edge. Shiv bellowed “Ruuuunnnnnnnnnnn”. Prashant ran. Shiv ran. The ball flew. Wade ran. Starc ran from Deep Fine Leg and Steve Smith ran from Mid-Wicket.

*The ball has taken the top edge and this has gone really high. Three people converging. Who is going to take it?*

Shiv knew there would be no problem completing the run, but he wanted Prashant to stay with him till the end. Playing 5 balls with just 1 wicket remaining was going to be risky. Keeping one eye on the ball, Shiv ambled on to the striker’s end.

*Would you believe it? The ball has bisected the three fielders perfectly. Superb placement by Prashant. More importantly, that brings Shiv on strike. India would now feel they have one hand on the trophy already*

Yes. Prashant was safe. Somehow, none of the 3 fielder had managed to grab the ball. The run was completed quite safely in the end. 5 balls, 9 runs, 2 wickets, Shiv on strike. Shastri had got it right again; India now had one hand on the trophy. Or at least that’s what Shiv felt.

….

…..

…….

*Shiv finishes off in style. India retains the T-20 trophy. After a humdinger of a contest, India have got the better of Australia. And it is that man Shiv again. Doing it for his team in his final match*

Shiv had done it. If there was ever a fairy-tale ending, this was it. He had slogged the 4^th ball of the final over, through the mid-wicket region for 4. The match was in the kitty. The trophy was India’s. India was now the No.1 team in the world in all 3 formats. Personally, Shiv had just accomplished a perfect retirement. His career was pretty short by Indian standards. Little less than 10 years. But he had a cricketing resume that anyone would have been proud of. Hitting the winning runs in the finals of a global tournament in his retirement match was now going to be the highlight.

Shiv was letting the moment sink into him .His team-mates had mobbed him and the celebrations were on. Shiv was struck between being emotional and elated. It was a wonderful place to be in. “Not just the first five rounds, the entire party will be on me today”, Shiv thought to himself.

…….

…..

….

"Man, why do I think so much. Shut down your freaking mind. Yes, this match is ours. Just finish it off dammit”, Shiv muttered to himself.

The Australians were taking a bit too much time to get their field right. This was the only trophy that had never adorned their extensive cabinet. They couldn't let this one slip.

Shiv took a few deep breaths. He had done this before. He had won matches for India on his own. But somehow this felt different. One, he had never done it in this kind of a tournament. Secondly, he had put himself in an undue pressure of this being his final match and all the redemption thoughts. 

*The Australians have finally managed to get their fields right. Here we go, Pattinson to Shiv. Where is Shiv gonna make this one land?”, Shastri was in his element that night. This kind of a situation was made for him*

Shiv dug his bat on the pitch. His mind was still cluttered, but he knew what he had to do here.  The fine leg was up, and he was going to scoop this. Regardless of where the ball was pitched, the ball was going up, over and between the keeper and short fine leg.

Pattinson looked menacing as he began his run-up . Prashant was in all readiness to take a cheeky single or convert the single to two. But Shiv had made up his mind; he was not going to run. The ball was going to the boundary. Pattinson in his delivery stride, Shiv made his initial movement and crouched a little. 

The ball was delivered.  145kmph. By the looks of it, It was going to be on a good length, just around the line of off-stump. Shiv made his moves, the bat now resembled a ramp and he was just waiting for the right moment to direct the ball to the boundary. The ball kissed the bat, as Shiv tried to hoick it over the keeper’s head.

*What has Shiv done here? This is disaster for India. The middle stump has gone for a walk*

The ball did not hit the meat of the bat. It did not get the elevation that it needed to. It just followed the path it was destined for and hit the middle stump at the top. The bails flew and the stump cartwheeled.

*Shiv let the pressure get to him. You got to question the shot selection here. India are now 9 down. With 9 required of 4 and the main batsman back in the hut, this should now be Australia’s game to lose*

Shiv had screwed it up again. This was everything that he feared. He had messed it up for India yet again, albeit in a completely different way. He stared away at the cartwheeling stump and sensed an elated Pattinson pass him to celebrate with the keeper. The crowd was hushed. The Indian dugout had their heads in their hands, visibly stunned. Shiv began the longest 70m walk he had ever taken/will ever take in his life. Fairy-tale endings are not as frequent as they should be. Shiv finished his career just the way he started it. Redemption was not his solace.

*But as they say, It isn't over till the fat lady sings*

Yes, few things don’t change. India had lost the match by 7 runs.  Australia had lifted the 2018 T20 World Cup.

Konaki Sumo - Japan

This post is a part of the A-Z April Challenge.

From beautiful places to Weird customs. And where better to look than Japan. Sumo is a traditional wrestling form that originated In Japan. Sumo wrestling is considered to be the national sport of Japan, Japan is also the only country where it is practiced professionally.

Give this sport a bit of a tweak, well actually a big one, and we have Konaki Sumo. Konaki or Nazikumo is a 400 year old tradition that still continues in many a Japanese temple. The biggest of these confluences takes place in April in the Sensoji Temple.

Super Baby: Leave me, Krypton needs help.

So, this is how the festival works. Two sumo wrestlers complete in their wrestling attire hold a baby each in their hands and face each other. And they wait. They wait for at least one of the babies to cry. There is a priest who usually tries to scare off the kids by waving and shouting. The wrestler holding the baby which cries first is deemed the loser. The wrestler with the most baby friendly hands and the non-fussiest baby has his hand held high in the end.  

This festival is actually the time for praying for a baby’s health. Based on a Japanese proverb “naku ko wa sodatsu”, i.e. “Crying babies grow faster”, it is believed that the louder a baby cries, the more blessings God shall shower on him or her.  So, the Sumo Wrestler holding the loudest baby might be knocked out of the competition, but the baby is a winner all the way.