Off the Blues...

Ok so team India is reduced to deep blues, so the advertisers are worst hit, nothing grave just few crore's down the drain. Newspapers have found a new short-lived-occupation of being the mouthpiece of the many who bank on the game of cricket. Headlines are sour-Three dead, thanks to our boys-the blessed Team India!
It’s the craze for the game that has earned it the title of, The Second Religion of this country (gets me thinking which is the first). The mania is so obsessed over that after a point its gets hollow and seems like a wild goose chase, yielding nothing, yet donning the guise of undying Passion. This wasn’t our first defeat, certainly not our worst defeat, yet the pain wave is so deeply felt that I saw faces droop like a withered dandelion. Yes, we lost, they (the team) got analysed, questions were raised, quotes of whose-who got discussed on every prime time slot of the electronic media, in the end what did we gain, gas pot for answers, a futuristic vision that remains a future forever, remarks by agitated (far too less a word) cricket aficionados, most of which we’ve already forgotten.
We Indians are emotional people, we like doing things with an extremist attitude, I mean we are extremist only when it comes to religion (cricket included) and jazz like that. To be honest I was humoured when I witnessed the ultimate act of frustration that some demonstrated, that being, performing the last rights of our brave hearts, the kings of the commercial world, the hero’s who look good only on posters.
I hold least authority over the marred subject of Indian cricket, could never get myself to watch the game with enthusiasm, could seldom cheer for our seldom winning Eleven. But am still writing this post, for, I felt the defeat this time. They were an experience lot, wasn’t the first time most of them faced WC, wasn’t that the gravity of the situation wasn’t a known deal, yet; again, they repeated their stunt, careless and a shameful exit.
We have a short memory, soon this loss will be forgotten, the burnt effigies will be worshipped again, the mourners will cheer for the once-cursed eleven again, and advertisers will sustain them in the frame, shame will hide behind the hollow pride, again. The Ganguly’s, Tendulkars, Dravids will be literally doted upon, again. The fame of this game will live, just the way Religion in our country exits.
There is no point in us spewing venom now, we will walk the same road, and cry the same sorrow, feel the same insult, cling to the dead-revived-dead hope, time and again.
Heck yes the BCCI lays tall claims, keep Chappell or throw him out, change the team order or retain the mighty Gods, we will continue this endless saga, add chapters to it and make a bulky history, am sure the coming generations will savour it.
We are complacent, we have accepted to live this way, we lack action and we make plans. The word Religion has never done well to this country, torn it apart brutally. Be it the communal tale or the infamous Cricket craze, it all ends up in a similar fate.
So here we are, clad in the blues, busted, scarred, yet beaming on the screens with a glamorous mask. We have the nerve of steel, don’t we?