Skip to main content

In a country where cricket is a religion..

In a county where cricket is religion, a true atheist is one who does not follow the sport. India is a happy country for cric-atheists because we do not have a self proclaimed control body/ bodies that claim to be the upholders of cricket integrity and holy cricket values. The Sharapova episode was an isolated incident by the way, and an independent body didn't make it it's life's mission to end her career. If they did exist, however, they would probably go on to vandalize all forms of cricket that is not test/ ODI. Especially IPL.

"T-20 is completely ungentlemanly"

"IPL objectifies players! You cannot trade them like cattle!"

"The helicoptor shot is ungentlemanly"

"Powerplay? More like Losers play! Amirite?"

That is all the cricket jargon I know. 

The country is very kind to hardcore cricket atheists- people who do not watch the game even if it is an India vs. Pakistan face off in the world cup finals, and the result of the game will finally put an end to the Kashmir issue, annihilate ISIS and swine flue over night.

This being the ICC world cup season, and with the IPL right around the corner, we atheists are left to our own devices. There's usually nothing good on tv when the match is on, facebook feed is filled with score updates and debates, newspapers are full of ads, like always- they don't give a fuck either. This is why people like me usually shun this cluttered environment and withdraw into a zen like recluse, catching up on movies we've missed, binge watching tv shows, basically existing in a ghost world, letting people do their thing.

That mauka mauka is just a derivative of the jumping jhapang dance thingie.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Peter Principle and the (Middle) Managerial Trap

If you are in any managerial position (thanks to promotions) and this is the first time you’re hearing of the Peter Principle, then you are already a lost cause.  Close this tab and go back to scrolling Instagram reels. Bye-bye. According to Wikipedia (remember that old relic, before ChatGPT became the de facto encyclopedia? Remember encyclopedia? Never mind). According to Wikipedia, the Peter Principle “observes that people in a hierarchy tend to rise to 'a level of respective incompetence’”, which means your promotions are based on how good you are at your current role. You continue to rise the rungs of corporate till you reach a position where you, and you will, suck at your job. At some point in your career, you will end up rotting away at a level you are least competent at; some place where you barely scrape by, unsure of where you’re faltering because the barometer for quality is hidden behind a thick veil of your own incompetence. Hence, the burnout.  And the desperate ...
1 comment
Read more

Clubhouse. CoWin. China.

If you feel an odd sense of deja vu while reading this piece, then you've spent too much time switching between Facebook and Clubhouse. Unless you've been living underground or in a home with ACT broadband, you know what Clubhouse is - it is where many people can have their Mann ki Baat at once. And Facebook has turned into a platform to critique, analyse and make fun of discussions that happen on Clubouse. Congrats Clubhouse, you just replaced the Indian Government, at least as far as Facebook discourses go. Clubhouse is more or less an impulsive, live podcast session - an open space where everyone is made to feel like Joe Rogan. But no one talks about DMT or shaved gorillas or MMA or shaved gorillas doing MMA while on DMT. But it always does sound like everyone is on something stronger than the devil's lettuce. Maybe you need that to hear your own thoughts over the din of uncomprehensive ramblings and mouth-breathing noises. Speaking of noises, Saudi Arabia restricted the...
1 comment
Read more

The Shadow of a Dead Hound

I was at my desk trying very hard to not pass out from the sweltering Bangalore summer heat when trouble came knocking at my door. She was wearing a wide brimmed hat and a pair of big sunglasses, which obscured her face just as much as the long, black woollen poncho obscured her figure. Just looking at her made me sweat a little more. "I need you to find a man." she said in a thick, raspy voice. She was no stranger to whiskey and cigarettes. "The marriage bureau is in the next road, lady" I said, knowing very well what she meant. But it's not every day that a poor, private dick gets to chat up a pretty lass. I wanted to make this last as long as possible. "Please mister, this is no time for jokes." she said, nervousness slipping past her sandpapery voice. Maybe it was the way she said it, but I immediately cut the crap and up straight. "Does this man have a name?" She fished out a glossy eight by ten from her purse and slid it acro...
Post a Comment
Read more