THIS IS NOT CRICKET (SATIRE)

THE COMMENTATOR was hollering in a hoarse voice 150 for 8. The game was not yet over. It was well past midnight in Mumbai. The TV analysts and talk show experts were giving blow by blow account of the fiery Indian spells, meant to curb the flow of shots. An entire nation was on the edge, millions of viewers taut with suspense and fear. Will India lose? When will the tenth fall? After the fall of the first eight, the 9th and 10th had settled in, forged a deadly partnership and were unleashing lethal strokes all around the ground. They kept the scoreboard ticking at a furious rate much to the dismay of India.
Looks like a day-night one day cricket match between India and Pakistan? Pakistan was batting with gay abandon and Indians were fighting, as usual, with their backs to the wall! Such situation was not new to Indian viewers – it had been repeated in many venues like Jaipur, Varanasi, Guwahati and Bangalore the same year! After each humiliating defeat, the viewers had been promised by the players, coaches and administrators that useful lessons had been learnt and the same would not happen again! But still, Indians have again been caught unawares and found themselves in the same sticky situation.

The audience was now asking: When will our great bowlers get those last two wickets and wrap up the match?

But this time it is not cricket! This match was not being played in Wankhede Stadium. It was set inside the labyrinthine corridors of the luxurious Taj Mahal Hotel, the iconic hotel of globalised Mumbai. This was a game of blood and gore played between 10 terrorists and the Indian forces. The 150 on the score board were not runs but number of innocents who ran for their lives and lost! The eight were not batsmen but the terrorists who had fallen to the Indian security forces. The last two were still on the crease at Taj Mahal Hotel, spraying bullets on innocent people, setting floors on fire and playing an effortless cat and mouse game with the clueless but brave security men, betrayed by a nation’s political and bureaucratic leadership.

Ensconced safely in the VIP gallery, protected by gun-toting SPG men, the well-fed great-Indian-politician (GIP) looked on. His devilish brain was working overtime, calculating the extent of political mileage he can derive from this match. Remember, Zia ul Haq’s sudden visit to the Jaipur stadium which relieved Indo-Pak tension and went down as “cricket diplomacy”! He had an urge to come before the TV crew for some sound bites but thought it was not safe. Many times he had grabbed national limelight for nothing. This was, after all, a tempting stage for international publicity.

But even he had to admit, that his was small time stuff compared to these audacious criminals operating from inside the luxury hotel. He was sorely envious of the publicity and the huge slice of air time these two batsmen were grabbing, while he, the great-Indian-politicians, were a mere spectator! Can hee ever attain such dizzy exposure to electronic media in his life time? The last time he got such public adulation was when he walked out of a police station after breaking some sort of law of the land. That day he did not even know which law he had broken. It is common knowledge that “everybody” who is “somebody” in India has to break some laws if he does not want to remain a “nobody”.

The ferocious batsmen in Taj Hotel showed no signs of tiredness. It was going to be long drawn battle. The NSG bowlers were being whipped in every direction. The poor fellows, already tired after a six-hour journey from Chandigarh and developing cramps from the rickety buses that ferried them from airport to this dangerous ground, had no quality equipment. Still the he (the GIP) could not but marvel at their bravery to bowl persistently in this treacherous ground and under such adverse condition.

The GIP ordered a ‘black cat’ standing near him to get some cola. Nothing like cola in troubled times! After all he and his fraternity were the organisers of this grand game. 172 for 9! Someone announced that one of the batting pair was out and the other probably retired hurt. But not before inflicting a stinging defeat on India! Anticipating a match loss by record margin, many of his friends -- other politicians and bureaucrats - had already started their favourite game, “Pass the Buck”. Thank God, it was all over, the Great Indian Politician sighed with relief. So what if the opposition scored 182. Small defeats like that do happen in big cities like Mumbai! The Indians, after all, did manage to get 9 of their scalps and did not seem to lose by heavy margin. Small consolation! Otherwise, the way these batsmen had started hitting sixes on the very first over to two of India’s best speedsters --Karkare and Salaskar - one thought that the match will be over without a fight! Still the GIP could not but admire the tenacity of these batsmen -actually the tailenders - who were on the crease for nearly 60 hours holding to ransom India’s bowling might. After all Pakistan had such great coaches and well-equipped training centres, not to mention the incredible infrastructure they had for this beautiful game in their North West Frontier Province. No wonder their real master blasters mostly come from that area! “If I had been a Pakistani, I could have made splendid political material out of these boys”, the GIP muttered to himself!

A sudden burst of grenade shook him on his seats. Smoke was billowing out of the Taj stadium. “Are these celebratory crackers ?” the GIP asked his SPG man. “Keep close to me and don’t move away. Sometimes the viewers can get unruly and stampede may break out; what are you being paid for?”

And then a prayer escaped from the Great Indian Politician ‘s (GIP) lips “Thank God, I am not inside the Taj tonight. I have always been so fond of this place with free boarding and lodging! Thank Almighty for protecting me so that I can continue to serve my people in future. May I live for ever to organise such exciting matches. God is Great, Long live the Great Indian Politician”.

The stars were fading in the night sky over the Taj Hotel. Dawn was approaching. The fire from a dome of the hotel provided an eerie backdrop to Gateway of India. The doves who usually gather in front of Taj Hotel early morning had long flown away – scared by the staccato burst of gunfire. The contest between India and Pakistan was far from over!

And the Great Indian Politician continued to watch the now empty stadium - in awe and inspiration