I, Me and Myself

Monday, September 24, 2007

kolors

The green Misbah-ul-Haq was the most powerful man in the world as he paced ahead and knelt to take on India's blue Joginder who-is-he Sharma. He held with him the blink of every eye, contraction of every heart, pace of every breath, sincerity of every prayer, faith of every hope and the fate of every colour that would erupt. Millions, including the still kneeling Misbah, watched the ball soar. A deliciously painful white elongation of Judgment amidst the recently dark sky. Sreeshant redeemed himself and the blur in blue got noisy and loud and red. Colours erupted over the stadium- green, saffron, white, blue- fireworks in the sky. Too much noise. Brown girls were screaming in the background, standing over grey chairs, I was jumping about myself. The whites looked amused. Pure pale-yellow joy, pure because it was momentary never to last. I screamed like no tomorrow and I do not know why. Seeing the blue run into a huddle brought back to memory bright hues of huddled orange, lost somewhere. We had won Darpan. There is nothing more spectacular than bright-yellow laughter. "We are many colors. We are one dream,' announced Martin Luther Jr. in this already recalcitrant and wild flashes of hued thought."You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?" voiced Soyinka. Loud, noisy and more fireworks in my head, 'GO DRISTIKONE,' I screamed!!

It had been a whole five seconds since India had won, since Sreeshanth had answered half the prayers that evening. The other half silently crushed the erstwhile most powerful Misbah-ul-Haq, who remained the kneeling green amidst the brilliant blue of victory and I retreated into the black night lit by a lone silver moon to write an assignment on racism.

Posted by vidi :: 10:21 PM :: 9 wisecracks:

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