Even before it has properly begun, Team India finds itself out of the World Cup. Predictably, stones have been thrown, posters have been burnt and some of us have sworn never to watch again. But once the tournament is over and our feelings of anger and frustration have blown over, life will soon return to normal.
The Indian Cricket Fan is not one to lose hope so easily. So ok are we with losing, and yet so desperate for something to be proud about, that we will once again sit glued to our television sets the next time the team takes the field, be it against Bermuda or Bosnia.
For some unfathomable reason, for a majority of us Indians (myself included) it is eleven men in blue who truly represent us, who carry our collective hopes and dreams on their shoulders, who define us, even. And so we watch; game after game, expecting everything and nothing at the same time. What to do, we are like this only.
Too many articles by far more knowledgeable people have been written for me to even attempt another one. You can read one of these about the fascinating ‘Desi Fan’ here.
PS: A class of fifth graders were discussing their father’s jobs. Each one took turns to say ‘Doctor’, ‘Engineer’, and so on until finally it was Vivek’s turn. ‘My father works in a gay club’, said the little boy. ‘He takes his clothes off in front of strangers and dances for money.’ Shocked but slightly curious, the teacher took him aside and asked if this was true. ‘No Miss’, went Vivek, ‘he plays for the Indian cricket team but I was too embarrassed to say that.’