I’m a little ashamed to say, actually I’m always ashamed to say most things, but about this one I am a little more ashamed than normal. Since you insist on being more specific, mathematically speaking, if I am ashamed to say anything at an average of 89% times, this present information raises the shame meter to 97.33%.
Anyway, let me just spit it out, or as usual, I will run out of column space before coming to the point, and please make that, any point. Last Sunday, I went to an Indian Premier League match. I say, Indian Premier League, because someone told me you can’t say IPL without first getting the IPL’s permission. However, you can call it by its Latin name which may be The Indian Premier League.
If you are not following, let me clarify by way of another example. Just like you are not allowed to call your father Ramesh, but you can call him Mr Kumar, similarly, you can’t use IPL, but you can call it The Indian Premier League, or Mr Kumar. So far, the IPL has not objected to Mr Kumar. (Furthermore, I apologise in advance for assuming your dad’s name is Ramesh, if you could be so kind as to clarify what his name really is, I will definitely issue a correction in the second, no make that third, edition of this newspaper).
I’m also not sure whether I can legally mention the teams that played in the match. So, I’ll feed you half information. I feel half information is far more beneficial. The great Estonian writer Mathilde Ram Prakash, once said very loudly, although nobody was really listening, “Half information allows the reader to be less passive, become more active, and work harder on gleaning, the full information”. The teams in that case, were the Something Indians versus Chennai Something Kings. Either way, something was playing against something else. The venue was the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai, which, surprisingly, was not renamed, for the entire duration of the match. (Please note as this is election season, renaming reaches pandemic proportions. Just three weeks ago, something something Bangalore was renamed as something something Bengaluru).
By the way, I’m reliably told the Bangalore renaming was to foster good luck on the team. My legal team has asked me to put forward no further comment on the matter. Entering the Wankhede takes approximately four minutes and 37 seconds more than the entire match duration. We Indians are master of lines that form and lead nowhere.
After inquiring from others in the queue, I was told that many weren’t even going into the stadium, they just saw a line, and felt compelled to be a part of it. Aristotle called this ‘Fear of Missing Out’. There was more confusion, many yellow shirts were supporting the blue team and many blue shirts, the yellow team. Sadly because of the supply running out, they were forced to wear the rival team’s shirt while cheering for the opponent.
I, of course, wore a black shirt while solidly supporting the unsung heroes, the umpires. A quick summary. Something something lost to something something something. Yet all of us enjoyed MS Something thumping 20 runs of four balls. (A South Mumbai record). For me, it was a wonderful event. I think, I’ll put an Olympic spin to this league. I’ll visit once in four years, not more than that.
The writer has dedicated his life to communism. Though only on weekends.
