Posted by : RioZee
Friday, February 25, 2011
Cricket, or Kirket. The whole country hypnotized and knowing only one God. One guy buying a helmet with small t.v. screen built in, lest he doesn’t miss any dhinchak action, while driving his bike.
During my college days in the 80’s in Kolkata, I was bewildered to see lakhs of people walking spellbound, with small radio glued to their ears. I wondered how many swished into the open manhole covers on the road to trap the bechaara’s.
Once mistakenly I went to a saloon for a nice shave when the heat and zing of kirket was in full swing. The barber, Babloo, not wanting to miss any angle of shots. I never argue a barber, who has a sharp razor on my neck. Oh! The prayers that came straight from my heart. A new comer came in, chirpy, sat relaxingly and ordered a Dhoni cut, that also after he watched the full match. I could see the gleam in the barber’s eyes. As if mocking at me, “Ei bhadro manoosh ke choron dhore aami aashirvaad nebo. Free facial free massage, dhoni cuter kichu charge nei.”
