The God, The tiger & The Wall

There is a country called India. Its people are religious. Its people are devout. Its people believe more in the blessings of God than in their own hardwork. Then there is the tiger. It's India's national animal. It is widely appreciated by the Indians for its wildness, the fright it produces in the minds of other animals, its kingness. Indians are day-dreamers. They dream of possessing all these qualities which they lack. And, of course, Indians tend to live safe. Purchasing life insurance policies, job security always seem to be placed as higher priorities in any Indian's life. So, a safe home is always aspired for to leave a peaceful life. Every wall of it is supervised to have been well built. And, Indians have one passion. Cricket. It's breathed in India. It's lived in India. It's a religion which decides Gods in this country. It's wild which gives birth to the tigers in this country. And it's watched in every home in India, thereby, becoming as common as a wall of any home in India.

A comment like "I still see Sachin(the God) in my dreams hitting sixes off my bowling all over the park" hasn't come since it was last made some 10 years ago.

Ganguly(the Tiger) couldn't repeat a confident and exuberent celebration like the one he did after the famous Natwest Series win.

Rahul(the Wall) has ceased to produce all those frequent hundreds he once did.

So, is it the beginning of an end? Is Pepsi going to endorse itself only with Youngistan? Is a generation change in store regarding Indian cricket? Well, YES!


"The God", himself, seems to have got finally bored of being godly after so many years. He still has the sanctity, the halo, the grandeur; but he can't bless his devotees with all of their wishes anymore. His "index finger" pains after showing the virtue of righeousness for all these years. He stands with a sore "elbow" after having bent it in a right-angle to show the blessed palm to all his devotees. His "ankle" and "back" grumble as he has stood upright for so many years without any rest. He blesses his devotees even now, but when HE wants. The god has become a "godman". The godman succeeds to do a "miracle" sometimes; but the devotees have started to become agnostic now. They have started to panic as they need "a god" to worship and not a godman for, they have enough of them. The search for an another god starts. We witness "the fall of the god" in meantime...

"The Tiger"; always walks in his own majestic gait, pounces upon the other animals to kill them and rules the forest. But as years pass, tiger becomes old. His claws aren't sharp anymore. His eyesight turns dim. He is the laziest of the clan from the start but his accurate "timing" and "placement" which help him in praying all these years, also become flawed. But, as they say "a tiger born is a tiger dead"! Our tiger refuses to be called "an old tiger". For him, he is "a tiger". Just, "a tiger". But, the whole forest thinks of this belief of his as a sheer madness. At that very moment, the jungle starts to rule the tiger, and not the vice-versa.

A brick is used when "the home" is constructed. The brick is nothing special. But it has the will, the determination, the tenacity. It chooses by itself, to be in the foundation of "the home", to help it maintain its erectness, with whatever severity the culamities may come then. And it does its job till it is called "the wall". The wall is said to be without a chink or a crack. The wall is painted. The wall is decorated. Suddenly, on some rainy day, the wall gives in. The wall has a leakage. Despite many tries to fix it, the leakage spreads. A practical decision to renovate "the home" is thought over. The wall has to be demolished for that.

"Team India" plays a match somewhere in the world. Back in India, schools, colleges, offices are bunked citing false reasons. Sports bars get jam-packed. Beer flows like river-water while dreaming an Indian victory. The TV showrooms turn their TV sets to the channel broadcasting the cricket match, so that the crowd gathered outside in large numbers can see it. The nation comes to a standstill. It wants India to win. The hopes of billions converge only upon eleven of them. And, especially upon, "the god", "the tiger" and "the wall" for, they know that these three "alone" can do it for India. Alas! The three fail. The country loses. Billions get upset.

On the sidelines of such gradually increasing losses, an ilk of cricketers emerges. These cricketers are a fresh lot of fearless, daredevil youngsters. In the era when everything comes with an expiry date, it's just a matter of time before people start to idolize one of them as "the god", an another as "the tiger", some other as "the wall".

It's high time our old heroes smell it before it actually burns. It's upto them whether to live forever in billions of hearts or to cause a billion heart-transplants now. Meanwhile, let's hope that miracles happen, the claws get sharpened and the leakage gets fixed, though for a while.