From the almost dead state that my last entry reflected, I was quite surprised to find myself enjoying the match today. You know, way Poirot used to wrap himself up properly before venturing out in the cold, I also try to think of protective measures - that'd supposedly prevent me from going into that state of apparent blackness. The key is to keep myself occupied for the entire duration that I stay awake.
So I make tea, chat with some relative over the phone, prepare some snacks for lunch, watch Sixth Sense, some other relatives visit us, I prepare yet another dish for dinner, and then sit down to watch the match. My heart swells up for Yuvi, the fighter that he is...and on seeing Virat Kohli I feel I am witnessing a real tiger walking on the pitch and letting out steam before he'd be removing all existence of the opponent in the next few moments. After the winning stroke from my dear Dhoni bhaiya, I bow down to the sheer determination of Kohli, way I have never done in all these years of cricket watching. Not for Sachin, not for Dada, not even for Rahul Dravid...this kiddo is something else. I am wondering how his ex would be feeling right now? Mixed feelings? Thoughts of a probable patch up? Because way this guy is playing these days, even if 90% is because of the typical son of India mindset (it used to do wonders in the pre-independence era, nowadays you find it rather rarely, it is ingrained in all Indians, just stays suppressed because of the time we are living in...), 10% is definitely, definitely a broken and confused heart going crazy.
Cricket is a game that creates folklores, something you can tell the next generation and teach them about staying put at the time of crisis. Last time I enjoyed cricket to this extent was 2011, the world cup that happened when I was in Prague. Enjoying the game one more time kinda tells me that I am returning to normalcy. My love stories, and particularly my desperation to make them successful, gets me to a rather abnormal state. In a way I too have that tigress spirit na, I too hate losing a game.
More shelter for the night in some of my favorite songs, I am still not able to read a book you see, it's a strange situation. You have to live without breathing, sounds absurd right? I am living without books comes quite close...
He's not there, he's not been there for the last decade or so, yet his words have never stopped echoing in my ears. He'd told me once that my son would be devoted to me, I'd be his world. I wish I had that son, who I'd give that son of India training. Well, dreams are not included in the safety routine, so I put down my pen for the day (hypothetically - I know I'm typing with the tip of my index finger of the right hand - and over that, using a lot of predictions from SwiftKey :P...pen is just a prototype)
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