I learnt this word a few minutes back in a cricket commentary, spit out and left there on our aural wall by Ajit Agarkar – former fast bowler of the Indian National Cricket Team – to describe English spinner Jack Leach who failed to stop a boundary hit by Vihari against Potts (?). The match was coming alive for a few minutes, as I was zoned in on the cricket ground at Birmingham. Suddenly, the tv screen lost its proportion as an advertisement popped up from below, flattening the image of the play above. The advertisement – a proportionate eyesore – forces one to miss the prologues to crucial moments in the game such as Pott’s run up to the first ball after lunch to Virat Kohli. Virat played on the ball, which missed the stumps by an inch and sprinted towards third man for a boundary. Six overs later, when a similar ball bumped back to the stumps after ricocheting off the inside edge of Virat’s bat, they skewed the screen again, when the replay showed what happened and again, flattening the view as English players celebrated the best player’s wicket in the opponent. Soon, follows – cutting through the moments of desperation, celebration, and shear love for the game – another ad. This time spewing on the entire screen its clumsy, hurried, and pitiful cacophony of the gluttonous Indian economy, the advertisement wanted its space in the attention field of the audience at any expense. Funny, we don’t ask what it could cost! Undoubtedly, we don’t know the value of our actions because we are not curious. We don’t ask what the meaning is of being embedded in the game, with the entire heart, feeling the tension of the players, the grass on the pitch, the young batter avoiding the follow-up glance just after he ducked from a bouncer by someone playing cricket for as many years as he has been breathing in this planet. We don’t ask what’s at stake and bulldoze our values, love, and sense of meaning as our butts are parked on the sofa amidst our half-hearted celebrations of a lifestyle sponsored by the market.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s