Crowds in the stadium, cheering all aloud,
Waiting for one of the many boys, to make their country proud…
Hope in eyes, faces painted, hands held high too,
Take all the colours that you want, but don’t forget the Blue!
Every hit needs to go far, we have to win,
Don’t care what moves you make, googly, Yorker or spin!
City goes quiet like the roads are on a curfew,
Shopping malls and cinema halls may have customers, but only just a few
Not every rule or position is equally understood in the game,
But young, old, women and child watch it all the same.
The game has loads of points, most of them silly,
But is still played in every nook, corner and gully.
Winning is should be absolute, it is more than obvious,
If the game goes to the other team, we all end up envious!
Winning against Aussies make us the pundits!
The world cup is the metaphoric Holy Grail of sort,
If you abuse our team, you just might end up in court.
You might go deaf, so loud is the crowd if we are winning,
But one loss of a wicket and the silence gets deafening..!!
It isn’t just a game anymore; it’s a matter of respect,
Well it might as well be the country’s religion, thinking on retrospect!
But Sachin is just outright different, he is only one God!!
Not a playground, more like a Battlefield,
Apparent friendships are side-lined, enmity revealed!