Towards the end of “Lamhe”, Sridevi’s character says something on the lines of “If our ultimate fate is sadness, then why bother with life? It’s the moments, the beautiful moments that make life worth it.”
My feelings about IPL are kind of like that only. If the ultimate fate of the tournament is the happiness of the powers that be, the cricketers and the advertisers, then why, as a simple person, do I watch? Why do I care?
It is because of moments, peerless in their simple yet spectacular beauty, that stay etched in memory. These are moments you would scarcely believe, like attack ships on fire off the the shoulder of Orion and C-beams glittering in the dark near Tannhauser Gate. [Reference]
So here they are, a collection of my favorite moments from this year’s IPL. So far.
1. Yusuf Pathan’s batting: As a long time KKR fan, there is nothing as delightful as watching Yusuf Pathan flailing his bat in the air, hoping against hope that the ball hits some random edge and flies to an unguarded corner of the field. But beyond the delight, what makes these moments significant is because his continual presence in the team has become an anthropomorphism of Bengali business philosophy. Which is lovely because Bengalis, and you can look at our sterling industrial record, are amazing at entrepreneurship. Let me explain why I say this. One of the tenets of Bengali businesses is to invest Rs 10, and then if things go south, to throw Rs 1000 after that Rs 10. Which is exactly what KKR does with Pathan. Having paid over 2 million USD, they are reluctant to cut their losses and make him warm the bench, instead playing him match after match in the hope that God will have mercy and make him score some runs. But as we know, God supports Chennai Super Kings (even plays for it) and so even though Yusuf keeps batting like an aunty at a family picnic, KKR keeps playing him, showcasing to the world the way we Bengalis do business. I am waiting though for the match where he scores a paltry 30, at which point of time, KKR (like any true blue Bengali) will take a bite of biskoot, say “Bolechilam tomake” (Told you so !), feel smug about this little victory and continue to play him for ever, thus completing my metaphor perfectly.