The lad

The lad came back to me,

Asking for a moment to play.

I refused: “Am not of your age,

Please find out someone else.”

He went back weeping.

He is my brother, young boy.

He insisted me to play the game;

Mad as the heart of the fans,

Hard to bring the reality into it,

The game enthused many.

It is called cricket: the blood and marrow

Of this country called India.

When I heard the word religion

The game already had a God.

When I heard the word heaven

The stadium got the name: Eden.

When I dreamt archangels,

The game was lauded by masters and legends.

But, we changed everything.

Gentleman’s game got dried.

Speed and innovation changed the classic face;

Still, the game is played in a spirit.

The lad was unaware of all these,

Went on playing, with a self-commentary.

I found it very solacing.