Sunday, March 29, 2009


Ladies, gents, and those undecided...

I've found it. No, this is not another one of my crazy social experiments where we tell people their loved ones are dying from terminal diseases. (Yes, that would be sick) And no, I'm not talking about my third nipple either - although debates have been raging on about it for quite sometime. (For the record, I DO NOT HAVE A THIRD FUCKING NIPPLE. FUCK YOU SID FOR SPREADING THAT SHIT)

For centuries and generations, we Indians have painted such a fucked up picture of ourselves in the Western world, ranging from our unease to get used to western toilets, to dropping phrases like "There you go!" and "Good fer you!" (With an accent and all, just to sound more American. I'm sorry 'Roger' Patel, it just makes it harder for the rest of us to be taken seriously.

But I digress. I have truly found the root of our bitchiness. The reason we constantly try to get one over our friends, double cross and backstab them repeatedly, and ultimately sleep with their wives.

It is something so deeply ingrained in everything we do and everything we live - an indelible and invisible mark on every single one of us. From the gullies and slums of Dharavi to Shah Rukh Khans bungalow in Bandra (?). Cricket.

Let me explain.

Cricket makes us bitchy.

Yesterday, I played cricket for the first time in about...7 years. Believe it or not, once upon a time, I actually used to be good. (Read 6th grade) But I still played.

I'd almost forgotten how to even hold the bat. I was the last man in; we needed 4 runs to win. The bowler; Anant. He played for his state a few months ago. He has pace like fire. Every ball he releases lands bang on in front of the stumps. They call him the Daytona Express. (LMFAO)

I reluctantly make my way to the pitch. This is like facing hell's wrath for molesting little kittens.

And then - something wonderful happens(arguably). I got superpowers. Powers that I'd left behind a long time ago to become a better man.

"Hey Anant! Does anyone know you have a pink laptop?"

His face flushes. People start poking fun at him; boy is he pissed now. He runs in like the express train that he is. It goes wide.

He's a good friend of mine, so I won't post much of what went on between that, but this one I can't refrain from...

He ran up, and then stopped just before he was about to release the ball. Evidently I'd shaken his confidence. One of his teammates shouts to ask him what's wrong.

I shout back "He's feeling the pressure! Gujarat State Team! Against newbie playing after 7 years! Aaaaah!"

Everyone is in splits. I felt sorry for him after that. So I just let him get me out (tihihi)

Anyway, after that, we all went to grab a bite to eat. This girl from one my classes comes over to talk. I'm telling her why she's a bad girl, when this fucking dumbass wannabe player Indian guy comes up. This guy is about 6'5 tall, and his brain is probably inversely proportional to that.

This is probably what he was thinking - "Tool anky in front of girl - Girl impressed - Thinks of me as prince charming - We run away to Wonderland and get married with her fairy godmother watching over us"

Which sounds reasonable in theory.

So he comes upto me.

Him: "Aey...tu peeche se ladki dikhta hai."

I turn to him and look him over.

Me: "Tu toh aage se bhi ladki dikhta hai...chutiye"

Everyone at the table: "hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"

Obviously the girl didn't speak hindi, but she got the hint. She isn't going home with him tonight :(

My point is, I'd probably not even have paid attention to the reflexive, systematic psychological rape of another human being 2 days ago. I'd have just ignored the person, and there would be no problem. But Cricket I tells you, is a very potent thing.

1 comment:

  1. in a dry satirical way, nice honest read man.......