That wasn't so hard now, was it? India just had to turn up to be crowned the best cricket team on the planet. As easy as demolishing the Pakis line-up while defending a paltry score of 260, the Indian batsmen annihilated the best bowling attack in the world and chased down a very similar score with professional machismo.
It was a sin to even dare to believe. When I remarked following the dismissal of our pivotal openers that India will still win comfortably, I was glared at and asked to STFU asap so as not to jinx it. I did precisely that. The rest, as they say, is history. I can see myself several years from now, reciting this tale to somebody's grandchildren- of how India won the cup because I STFUed asap. (Needless to say, I would also give due credit to the dew factor and Thisira Perera's incompetence.)
The feeling, which MSD and co. were struggling to describe in the euphoric moments right after the winning shot, was just surreal. That this event should happen at this day and hour is reason enough for me to die in peace. But I won't, not yet at least, because I figured something yesterday- were we, earthlings, to stumble across extra-terrestrial life in the near future, and were these fine creatures to organise an inter-galactic cricket tournament that would impart in the winners the supreme power to rule undisputed over the galaxy, surely Earth would send this knackered but bloody brilliant Indian team to represent it? To miss that spectacle would be a sin I wouldn't be able to atone for in my next 42 lives.
Finally, I cannot begin to express how important this cup is for the country. To say that the cricket team's phenomenal resurgence would inspire millions in their daily avocations would be a damn cliché. But for a nation that has bled for this bunch since heaven knows when- for the elegant and wristy batsmen, for the hard-working but flailing bodies of the fast bowlers, for the guile and deception of the spinners, for the helplessly languid fielders, through the 'tigers at home, lambs abroad' years, through the Indo-Pak wars and other man-made and natural calamities, through the dark ages of betting and fixing, and in the era where the greatest human being ever to lay his hands on a willow obliterated records for fun and made our lives worth living- this is sweet vindication indeed.
The sweetest perhaps.
It was a sin to even dare to believe. When I remarked following the dismissal of our pivotal openers that India will still win comfortably, I was glared at and asked to STFU asap so as not to jinx it. I did precisely that. The rest, as they say, is history. I can see myself several years from now, reciting this tale to somebody's grandchildren- of how India won the cup because I STFUed asap. (Needless to say, I would also give due credit to the dew factor and Thisira Perera's incompetence.)
The feeling, which MSD and co. were struggling to describe in the euphoric moments right after the winning shot, was just surreal. That this event should happen at this day and hour is reason enough for me to die in peace. But I won't, not yet at least, because I figured something yesterday- were we, earthlings, to stumble across extra-terrestrial life in the near future, and were these fine creatures to organise an inter-galactic cricket tournament that would impart in the winners the supreme power to rule undisputed over the galaxy, surely Earth would send this knackered but bloody brilliant Indian team to represent it? To miss that spectacle would be a sin I wouldn't be able to atone for in my next 42 lives.
Finally, I cannot begin to express how important this cup is for the country. To say that the cricket team's phenomenal resurgence would inspire millions in their daily avocations would be a damn cliché. But for a nation that has bled for this bunch since heaven knows when- for the elegant and wristy batsmen, for the hard-working but flailing bodies of the fast bowlers, for the guile and deception of the spinners, for the helplessly languid fielders, through the 'tigers at home, lambs abroad' years, through the Indo-Pak wars and other man-made and natural calamities, through the dark ages of betting and fixing, and in the era where the greatest human being ever to lay his hands on a willow obliterated records for fun and made our lives worth living- this is sweet vindication indeed.
The sweetest perhaps.
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