Googlies: Australia stun India. Love and betrayal of the Rain Gods!

Australia shot a blot from the blue and defeated India by 84 runs. It came as a surprise, for we were convinced that we have dented their confidence beyond measure. What really hurts is the fact that in spite of much speculation and promise, there was no rain this time. India have had made a pact with Indra, the rain God. In England, the first test match was slipping away fast, when Indra came to our rescue. Indra, the king of Gods, the God of thunder and rain, was awaken from years of inertia to resume his duties as a crucial influence on the wars and battles on earth. The thing closest to a sword was a cricket bat, and the amount involved betting (satta) was so immense, that he realized that this must be a battlefield. Like always, Indra works for his own profit first, and I guess Australian bookies paid him a bigger amount to keep the rain away.

They said, "Rain, rain go away, little johnny wants to play." In his heydays, Indra would send rain or lightning at crucial moments to alter the course of war. Even Homer had heard about Indra and invoked his influence in the Illiad. Australians were not even born then. I mean the blokes are from a young country, which is actually only twice or three times the age of my great-grandfather (who has scored his version of a century). Australians are from such a young country that they neither know the role of Gods or rituals, nor hero worship and promise of superstition. That is why we have found it hard to beat them. We have to appease all kinds of Gods first. Then we need to take care of superstitions, like which bat to use on what surface. Then comes the actual ground, where we need to display glamor and ensure that the products we market sell well. Cricket is a stepping stone to something else. Like Sangeeta Bijlani. Like ICL. Like Movie or Advertising Career. Like a role in some saas-bahu melodrama serial.

The season of one day cricket has just begin. I was able to sleep for mandatory five hours after watching first hour of play and wake up in time for seeing the last hour of Indian batting. Had I been awake all night, I would have screamed and cursed. Thankfully cricket has reverted to its old form. Someone said, Twenty20 matches are the length of a Bollywood flick. I agree. One day match is the length of Bollywood movie like Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gum with a million advertisements, (as shown on TV, specially formatted for small screen). When you limit the screen size, (space), the length of the movie (time) expands (ask Heisenberg for explanation).

The long and the short of the story is: In both matches, Australia showed us that Indian bowlers are only as effective as the pitches allow them to be. Clarke, Hayden, Haddin, Saymonds, Hodge are names that will soon arouse the same terror as their predecessors. Tendulkar, (Ganguly) and Dravid will need to stand-up and deliver, while Gambhir, Yuvraj and Uthappa need to stay on crease for longer than usual. We won in the Twenty20 because the team fought together, tooth and nail, till the very last ball of each match. This time, the whole team was bundled out before fifty overs were bowled. Come on guys! Forget the rain of prize money that was yours only a week ago. Our memory is fickle, and the same masses, the same public will rebel and cry for your blood if you don't show us the fighting spirit we have started to expect from you. It is just the beginning: go redeem yourself in the next match.