My Kingdom for a Catch!

My Kingdom for a Catch!

Posted by A Great Liar

I watched her rolling the cigarette on the table in front, sneezing and puffy eyed, hoping that she would have it her way and go in the slumber she so badly needed, and leave me with the disappointments of the evening all by myself. 

Her face like a once lovely bouquet now gone dry by the prolonged intimations with the stuffed cigarette. But after having witnessed what she just did, how could I blame her for resorting to such toxic measures.

Because tonight the tranquility of any cricket lover lay in that magic cigarette. Somebody needed to put the proverbial humpty dumpty back together again, and it possibly couldn’t be one of those eleven green men in the field, each of whom now looked older beyond their years.

But I decided to interrupt her anyway. “Ammo. That stuff will do no good.”

She looked up as if from a dream. “No?”

“No.” I replied. “Definitely not. And besides it is just a cricket match.”

“Perhaps so.” She said. Paused. “But I am having it anyway.”

“I admit.” I replied. “What happened tonight was pretty devastating. My grandma would have gloved one of those… I mean even after she was dead.”

“Yes.” She replied. “Let’s just face it; he is terribly hopeless, or hopelessly terrible. Or whichever way the damn thing works. He is just … you know what.”

“A schmuck perhaps?” I asked. “Totally. Some people are apparently engineered that way, to be at their lowest in the moment of potential triumph.” Paused. “Ambition is a dangerous thing, especially for mediocrites.” 

“Ambition?” She asked. “What ambition has got to do with it? Those catches were bloody dollies, for crow’s sake.”

“Yes.” I replied. “They were. And how often a man does what is the right and convenient thing to do, I wonder. Not often. Because the hardest thing in life to do is the one easily available at his disposable … or dollies as you call them.”

“Lev.” She said. “Of all things in the world, you can’t possibly philosophize this one. This one has nothing to do with your outlandish notions about life and everything else.” 

“No.” I replied. “And hence you shouldn’t be so worked up over something so insignificant. After all, it’s just a meaningless sporting ritual that we burn the precious moments of our lives with, screeching and crawling and begging for divine providence out of some misplaced sense of patriotism that most of us never realize we possess and those who do, never try to understand why it’s there in the first place and carry it about their sunken shoulders like a boulder and walk about the mother earth as self appointment reps of Great God Himself.” I smiled. “I mean, why so serious then, my dear?”

“Because.” She replied, her voice growing bitter. “It is your own country playing and you have to support it. I mean, there is a certain human dignity about it which I do not expect you to understand.”

“Country!” I chuckled. “Apparently country is no good with gloves on.”

“I didn’t mean it to be funny, Lev.” She replied.

“Oh, come now, Ammo.” I replied. “There is more to life besides supporting a country that can’t take its own catches. I mean it is not fair.”

“Not fair?” She replied. “Lemme tell you what’s fair, that is standing up for what you believe in. And I do believe in my identity, a proud citizen of this country.” Paused. “Did you ever believe in anything or anyone, I mean for real, Lev?”

“Yes.” I replied. “And no.”

“Ha!” She replied. “There you are again with your vague responses to every challenge posed upon you. Hiding behind the curtains of obscure ranting, for how long do you think you will survive there, soon you would be lonely and miserable, because you never had anything to stand up for.”

“Oh yes.” I replied. “That would be me. And while I still have few years of limelight left, let me explain to you what I was trying to imply. I mean why believe in anything when there is nothing to believe in. There are no facts, only ideas, and that makes it all too dangerous. People will go to either extremes driven by an idea, ranging from people going to bed together to shooting each other’s head off, it all boils down to an idea.”

“Well, I do agree there.” She replied. “Violence of any kind is wrong.”

“Yes.” I replied. “But only if it is done in the name of an idea, or call it an opinion shall we. Same goes for two merry souls signing up for a shaking bedpost session if influenced by an idea.”

“Ahan.” She replied. “You mean it’s all right otherwise. Murder for the sake of murder, or any action for the sake of it.”

“Yes.” I replied. “In principle it is, perhaps not always in practice.”

“Well, you have lost me there.” She replied. “Obscure as always, weaving words that only sound enigmatic and carry absolutely no weight.”  

“Perhaps so.” I agreed, now relieved to see her at ease, apparently the cigarette was beginning to weave its magic wand upon her. “But I meant to say, in simpler words, why not all the good and evil be done for the sake of it. Why justify everything with an opinion or an idea, to be like a prisoner that is.”

She pretended not to hear my last sentence. “Oh, silly us. Didn’t it all started with couple of drop catches and a match lost, and look where it got us.” Apparently she had nothing more to say.

“Oh, but it is perfectly all right, Ammo.” I replied. “I am sure we aren’t the only ones who got a bit carried by what happened tonight. I am sure by tomorrow and in the next few days; the whole country would be crying my kingdom for a catch.” Paused. “And in more ways than one.”

She had nothing to say in return. Her’s was now a wandering mind, searching for greener pastures, roamed by silly men who never contradicted her in return, and hence would lie to her in every word. Because that is the best thing about being drugged, that if given a choice between what’s real and what is a mere dream, one would always prefer a dream.

[Do leave a comment, it matters..., And if enjoyed what you just read, do follow the blog, it matters just as much]