We Love Cricket!

We love cricket, don't we? After all, isn't that what gives India the feeling of being a nation? Despite having a myriad of religions, Indians have a common religion—cricket. Cricket is so much in our blood that the Government of India had practised even "cricket diplomacy" to improve Indo- Pak relations. And why shouldn't we love cricket? The "gentlemen's game" is indeed one of the precious legacies left to us by the colonial rulers.

We love cricket. Cricket is so important that we cannot keep ourselves from sharing even split-second occurrences of what goes on and outside that sacred 22-yard distance and of what goes on in the lives of cricketers on and off the field. After we lose 'very important' cricket matches, some of us vent our ire on certain cricketers and their personal lives, and some others express our solidarity with them in their 'moments of crisis'. We get emotional and enthusiastic, we scream on the top of our voices, we give expert advice to cricketers on how to play and how not to play—after all, we can't afford to show laxity given that we are dealing with the pan-Indian religion. We "bleed blue" and we almost overlook those who bleed to death. On 26 March 2015, social media was replete with pictures, videos and messages about the Indian cricket team because we had lost a world cup semi-final match to Australia. And this was a very important event, wasn't it? The electronic media chose to highlight this, given the fact that electronic media houses can't afford to overlook it. And why not? Overlooking it would certainly be inimical to their business interests. The same day, the news of a Dornier-228 of the Navy crashing off the Coast of Goa (even when it was an event that happened on 24 March 2015) could scarcely make its presence felt in the electronic media; the print media seemed to be much more concerned than its electronic counterpart about the Indian Navy personnel involved in the crash. There were very rare instances of people forwarding this news through Instant Messaging applications or through social media websites. Two young officers in their 20s—Lieutenant Kiran Shekhawat and Sub-Lieutenant Abhinav Nagori—lost their lives in watery graves. But should we have bothered about it? They bled to death in the course of their job, while the Indian cricket team had gone to perform a 'national duty'.

We love cricket. We do not use social media, not even in the form of one-liners, to spread awareness about the death of the cragsman Malli Mastan Babu even when he used to unfurl the Indian flag on the summits that he scaled. His being an alumnus of some of the most prestigious educational institutions of the country even when he had been from an economically-underprivileged background isn't a qualification good enough to make a social media presence felt posthumously; understandable it is, because he wasn't connected with cricket.

We love cricket. We don't mind expelling some university students if they felt like supporting the Pakistani cricket team. After all, such an act would be an insult to the integrity of India, wouldn't it? We deify cricketers. We post photoshopped images on the social media—images that show Maria Sharapova genuflecting in front of Sachin Tendulkar because she had earlier expressed ignorance about the "God of Cricket". Why shouldn't we? Ignorance about the God of Cricket is tantamount to ignorance about the God of the pan-Indian religion.

We love cricket. It is apt that when the Government of India decides to bestow the Bharat Ratna—the highest civilian honour—upon a sportsperson, it should inadvertently be on a cricketer.

In Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Marcus Antonius had repeatedly used the phrase "honourable men" to convey something to the "friends, Romans, countrymen". I hope that my erudite readers will be quick to establish a relation between my resort to the sentence "We love cricket" and a usage of the aforementioned phrase in Julius Caesar.

LETTER to SADNESS (upon HER DEATH)

Dear SADNESS,

I came to know about your painful death a day ago. It is a different thing, though, that I would not have allowed you to enter my door. You had tried your level best to demolish my sense of self and engulf me in your arms. You did this by trying to trace the footsteps of your father, FAILURE, who entered my home as a guest just two days back.

I believe it is my duty to inform you posthumously that you had lost your way when you tried to enter my door. You fell into the moat created by my strong conviction and by the moral support my well-wishers have rendered to me. You were unaware that your father has been a very dear friend of mine; I learn more from him than from anyone else.

I consider it my duty to inform you posthumously that I got to hear some of the most encouraging statements from my well-wishers after your father entered my home as a guest. They have told me that irrespective of the position I hold in life, irrespective of my professional standing, they will always have faith in me. Even if I am not able to maintain regular communication links with them owing to the exigencies of the pursuit of my current endeavour, they believe in what I do and stand by me.

I know it is my duty to inform you posthumously that I have bettered as a human being, as the years passed by, while pursuing my goal of self-actualization. Your father hasn't killed me; he has made me stronger. He has made my value known to a large number of people in life; many of the seemingly successful people cannot claim to have amassed such an enormous human capital during all this while. I have truly witnessed my Idea of India, given that people from all corners of India (and some even residing overseas), people used to working in diverse work environments, and people belonging to diverse social and economic backgrounds, have expressed solidarity with me. I wish to tell you—your father has felt proud that he visited my home. I also know that I can rightfully claim to have achieved a level of personal development many others can only dream to achieve. Even though my efforts may not seem to have achieved the desired outcome yet, they have prepared an intense groundwork of roots (in just the same way as the roots of bamboo) for me to stand upon; they have strengthened my foundation.

While I wish (keeping in my mind the norms of common courteous conduct) that your soul may rest in peace, I unabashedly tell you that your presence will not be tolerated by me. Your soul may not resuscitate itself because my well-wishers believe in me and I believe in myself. My suggestion to you is to not disguise yourself and to not re-enter my home upon your re-birth, as the shock of another defeat may not be bearable for you.

Yours never,

Vitthal