Tower Power

Prefatory Note: Great cricketers are few, armchair commentators many. Many a passionate, perceptive lover of the game, a Fingleton or a Cardus, if not a skilful exponent.

Few would dispute that Age of Empires II, like cricket, is a game of aesthetics----it has its own charms, its array of formidable heroes, Caribbean marauders, stylish, breezy strikers, promising prodigies and imaginative mavericks, cool, composed, indomitable, dependable veterans, and of course, amateurs ( and gaddas). The game has a comfortable pace, meticulously worked-out strategies, an interplay of determined aggression and studied calm, balance of flexibility and rigor, life and spirit. A pity, then, that it should never be chronicled, a pity that memories of many a remarkable innings, of those nights of palpable excitement and intense gaming should be consigned to oblivion and not preserved for the posterity. One such night was the cold, winter night of January '10, when the finals( best of three) of the AOE tournament hosted by hostel 3 were to be played. Over the past week, groups of three had been knocked out and earlier in the evening, two teams of hostel-5 and hostel-6 were locked in a grueling contest for the final slot( Team-3 being the other finalist).

I entered a room and found a hostel-6 fresher there, battered by a Frankish onslaught. A triangle of watch towers dangerously loomed over his farms, his quarries were almost exhausted and our hero was building towers in splendid isolation when a voice was overheard:

'Abey behen ka, issey kise attack dega? ground ko?' The youngster looked questioningly. Shalabh Priyadarshi was standing behind.

'Tower gira de'. The point was taken. An army of livid villagers, armed with shovels and pickaxes, brought the ominous towers crashing down.

'Shabash mere sher! ab tambu(outpost) gaad aur andhera dur kar,' the overseer spoke, indicating a spot in the unexplored territory where the tambu was to be erected.

'1-2 ghore dauda'. A couple of knights emerged out of stable and went prancing across the frontier. They wandered about the highlands and came upon a friendly Turkish city. Or rather its ruins. Two dozen swordsmen and some trebuchets were bringing a castle down. Turkish knights were getting impaled on pikes, their archers proving no match for the javelin-throwing skirmishers, their musketeers and cannoneers getting massacred by murderous onagers. A cartography research shed more light; but for indifferent villagers tilling stray patches of farmland, few decorative palisades and fancy gates, there was nothing.

'Hi fi,' SP spoke at length, 'saare gaddon ki fauzen hai. Chal bhaag abhi' and took the relinquished seat. Team-5 had made to the finals.

The first of the finals would be played at the host's favourite landscape, the second at the opponent's. The last site would be a random selection. First was, of course, Highlands. Sadly, towers did not succeed. 0-1. Second game. A mediterranean map. Towers worked. Team-5 routed. 1-1.

I sat next to a Team-3 player and watched with some trepidation as a wild terrain of tropical forest and sparse vegetation unfolded before us. Oasis. Oh! ill-fated Oasis. The first few minutes were spent in foraging; but for an occasional flock of sheep, there was no major livestock or kill. The cavalry scout scoured the whole countryside. In vain. At last, a berry bush in wilderness.

Feudal age was mostly disturbed. Watch towers overlooking the Hun lumber camp caused alarm and skirmishes broke out between local lumberjacks and the masons. Their allies sent knights, who dismantled the towers and drove the intruders out. An uneasy calm prevailed in the castle age. Peace? Surely a ceasefire was not to be. One had a presentiment of attack. But an infantry attack or a cavalry? A cavalry for sure. As the teams advanced to the Imperial age, the scout brought details of a major cavalry formation in the Hun camp. So, when the first contingent of knights came trotting, they found our halbadiers already bracing for an attack. A battle ensued, lances clashed with pikes; Huff! Pant! steeds groaned, knights fell, more came, but the halbediers did not relent. The Aztecs(team-5) sent reinforcements. Flanked by trebuchets on one side and skirmishers on the other, five

rows of their champions came marching to the city. They brought the town center down and set the farms on fire. The castle was reduced to a rubble, workshop, smithy and barracks a heap of ruins. They lunged at the halbediers and ripped them to shreds. Skirmishers harried the miners and brought mining to a stop. Panic seized the villagers; they fled in droves but the darting shafts struck them down.

Then, all of a sudden, CLANGG!! Who? What? Paladins?! Whence from? Winding their way round a hillock, troops of Frankish equestrians (team-3), in crested, open helmets and dazzling breastplates, were making their way to the city. They smashed the trebuchets, dashed against the champions and broke through their ranks. They drove them outside the city gates and pursued them to the (Hun) country. Armours cracked, heads rolled, bodies tossed, maidens shrieked; a wave of destruction swept the city. The paladins were unstoppable. They marched past the frontier and rammed through the Aztec capital. Eagle warriors were struck down, barracks were demolished, stables torched, town centers razed. A group of enterprising masons erected watch towers at the four corners of the castle. They stood like minarets of glory over a sea of ruins.

'Hi fi! ab toh Taj Mahal bhi ban gaya,' a jubilant SP exclaimed. Indeed. Carthage had been destroyed.