It's still sinking in. After a day and a half. We won. WE WON!
To support the Indian cricket team has been a journey. A journey filled with disappointments, joys and overwhelming moments which made me proud of my nation's team. But nothing, nothing the Indian cricket team has done in my lifetime made me feel proud as an Indian before. I can safely say, now, miles away from Indian soil, Fuck yeah I am proud to be an Indian.
Whoops of joy. Silent man tears. Manly man hugs went around in an apartment at Ann Arbor. We won. As you can clearly see by now, what I am writing has no structure. In a glorious few days i have completely forgotten what was taught from Wren and Martin on how to write a composition. I have an exam coming up, a presentation to prepare for, yet i don't want to do anything. I have to decide the course my thesis will take and talk to my advisor tomorrow. Yet i don't want to do that. I want to scream "We won! We won! We won!". I want to go and scream "We won!" at the faces of a group of ABCDs who were dissing the game of cricket and India's obsession with it sometime back. Everything has been vindicated. Waking up at 5 in the morning. Days of sleeplessness. Missing labs. Everything was worth it.
I know there are some Cricket hating fans back home who are going "Bleh. So much hype. Nothing will ever come out of this. It's a sport, get over it etc.. etc..". To them I say, "WE WON MOTHERFUCKERS! WE WON!"
This team symbolizes the very idea of India. No religious divide. No caste divide. No class divide. A place where an ordinary railway ticket collector can go on and lead the nation in a game taught to us by people we fought for our independence against. And Win. To quote W.H :
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Allow the dog to bark with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with the sound of the victory drum,
Bring out the cup, let the victors come.
Let aeroplanes circle celebrating overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message We have winneth.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear blue cotton gloves.
In the North, the South, the East and the West,
In the week and Sunday rest,
In the noon, in the midnight, in a talk,in a song;
Celebrate this victory and come in a throng. (or wear a thong)
The stars are shining brighter now; see how they shine every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the tears and hide your morning wood;
For everything in this world (or atleast this country) temporarily is good.
(That might be the most terrible poem ever written after Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex)
Did I mention: WE WON?
To support the Indian cricket team has been a journey. A journey filled with disappointments, joys and overwhelming moments which made me proud of my nation's team. But nothing, nothing the Indian cricket team has done in my lifetime made me feel proud as an Indian before. I can safely say, now, miles away from Indian soil, Fuck yeah I am proud to be an Indian.
Whoops of joy. Silent man tears. Manly man hugs went around in an apartment at Ann Arbor. We won. As you can clearly see by now, what I am writing has no structure. In a glorious few days i have completely forgotten what was taught from Wren and Martin on how to write a composition. I have an exam coming up, a presentation to prepare for, yet i don't want to do anything. I have to decide the course my thesis will take and talk to my advisor tomorrow. Yet i don't want to do that. I want to scream "We won! We won! We won!". I want to go and scream "We won!" at the faces of a group of ABCDs who were dissing the game of cricket and India's obsession with it sometime back. Everything has been vindicated. Waking up at 5 in the morning. Days of sleeplessness. Missing labs. Everything was worth it.
I know there are some Cricket hating fans back home who are going "Bleh. So much hype. Nothing will ever come out of this. It's a sport, get over it etc.. etc..". To them I say, "WE WON MOTHERFUCKERS! WE WON!"
This team symbolizes the very idea of India. No religious divide. No caste divide. No class divide. A place where an ordinary railway ticket collector can go on and lead the nation in a game taught to us by people we fought for our independence against. And Win. To quote W.H :
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Allow the dog to bark with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with the sound of the victory drum,
Bring out the cup, let the victors come.
Let aeroplanes circle celebrating overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message We have winneth.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear blue cotton gloves.
In the North, the South, the East and the West,
In the week and Sunday rest,
In the noon, in the midnight, in a talk,in a song;
Celebrate this victory and come in a throng. (or wear a thong)
The stars are shining brighter now; see how they shine every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the tears and hide your morning wood;
For everything in this world (or atleast this country) temporarily is good.
(That might be the most terrible poem ever written after Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex)
Did I mention: WE WON?
1 comments:
Oh how those manly tears rolled down me cheeks!
Post a Comment