DLF, IPL, EPL, HCL, NaCL, Sodium Sulphate… Oh never mind! I am just back from Mars!
Right! If you had not been hiding under the bed wearing earplugs and chanting ‘Ommmmm….’ over the last 6 months, you would know what the above gibberish means. You wouldn’t be so aghast to see the kind of sensation, sensuality or spectacle on a cricket field like I am. And to top it all, even cricket was being played.
Not that cricket ever made any sense to me anyway. The game is fine… I mean I know it involves a ball, two batsmen and eleven fielders… But I am clueless about the fanaticism that is associated with it. A player hit a six, not me. The players were winning, not me. The players were raking in millions. NOT ME!
Then what is it that creates such mass hysteria? It never happens with hockey, football, tennis, boxing, chess (we do have a reason or two to boast about) or even with Olympics. Catch a guy on the road and ask him to name ONE Olympics ’08 participant. He won’t know. I don’t know. Maybe our sports editor will know.
But that guy will know how much is SRK’s Kolkata stake or why Preity bid for Mohali. Or what made Bhajji slap Sreeshant?
Why does Bhajji slap people anyway? He slaps them left-right-and-center. With his words and hands.
But I like that guy. He calls a spade a spade. In this fishy age of fear and diplomacy, I hold him solely responsible for being the most forthright celebrity at sight. Remember how he supported Dada at his worst times? Hey! I don’t even know whether the guy bowls or bats or fields, but he’s one cheeky rebel. Wow to trick the BCCI (J..K..L…whatever…), one needs beefy moral fiber. So who cares, we all are wrong. But we are all busy hiding facts to save our skins. And scratching our chins to cook up the next tactful way to handle the situation. We are all so proud of possessing diplomacy.
Talking of diplomacy, SRK’s silence takes the cake. Not that he’s silent about the game. Wow! You should look at him screaming! But his silence speaks. His silence spoke when Eden was drenched in darkness a fortnight back. His silence spoke when a fan of his fell of the stands trying to get closer to him. Like someone had said decades back about a gang rape in Bantala: Ei rakam to kato ghotonai hoi… (These things happen…)
SRK’s silece is so loud… maybe he should speak more often. “Kkkkkk… Kolkata…” But hat’s off to this boy-next-door who made it alone in this world. (I always site his example to my son). I think Shah Rukh Khan is cooking Kolkata with his heat. Only Didi (Mamata Banerjee) can draw this kind of crowd. SRK draws crowd and hysteria. Sorry Dada, even you are in the extra covers. SRK’s hitting the sixes from the stands, can’t you see? Srk’s batting. SRK’s fielding. SRK’s bowling googly. SRK’s winning. All lenses are focused on the stands. It’s celluloid that’s the bottom line and ‘top line’.
Ooops! Ask the cheerleaders!
(This article was written when the first IPL fever had gripped the world and Indians were walking, talking, eating, sleeping cricket and celluloid… a deadly combination. This was published in the Opinion page in Hindustan Times, May 1, 2008)