14th June, 2037
Brilliant day at the nets today. The bowling machines gave me all they could but I dispatched everything that came my way. Haha! I even managed to belt one into the bowler’s net on the far corner of the ground where those guys were working on the slower ball for the eighteenth session in a row. They don’t expect to get the batters caught in one of the six mandatory catching positions in this year’s IPL, do they?! I hope not, because that’s never going to happen when we have the guys from Microsoft working on eyebrow enhancement – another mandatory rule brought in by Shukla uncle.
I wonder h(br)ow that works. Hehehe…”See” what “eye” did there?
I really should have got that part on Comedy ka Maharaja last year instead of that rascal Saravanan Palanipathy. Hmph, just because his dad’s smile was more famous than his bowling.
It’s okay. No harm, no foul. After all, this Gandhi fellow legalized family quota last year. At least now my son will have a guaranteed career of three matches and twenty-six endorsements.
Speaking of endorsements, I ran into Gilli paaji the other day at the Satyamev Jayate ad shoot, right next to where I was shooting for Vicco turmeric’s new ad (catchy song, dad tells me). They’re doing a feature on the hardships faced by international cricketers when they sign those treacherous IPL contracts without reading this clause:
- “I agree to be the centre of any controversy that happens within a kilometre of where I am and will tolerate all personal attacks any Indian media house makes about my culture, my drinking, my nation, my tattoos, the fact that I possess a cigarette lighter and any other such conveniences as designated under section “Yeh IPL hai boss” of the Indian Parliament.”
Gilli paaji should know best. Just when he was about to end a graceful career 25 years ago, a truck driver who drank one Foster’s too many got into a spat with some Indian Cements fellow. A few days later, Gilli paaji was convicted of “bringing Australian influence in India” and has been stuck here ever since, hosting the IPL opening ceremony tirelessly every year – with Samir Kochchar.
Ah, some of these stories make me so emotional. Sometimes these authorities just want to mess with you. Like in England last year, when 11-year-old Hamid Kaneria was held for ‘fixing’ a broken tap. Or like when Sreesanth chacha’s band was arrested in the middle of a concert because they kept trying to convince the crowd that the orange stuff they wore on stage was once an actual cricket team’s kit. Chacha should have known better than to lie like that, but it was still very sad.
I have to admit, all these memories are making me a little sentimental about the hardships I have ahead. But, like dad always tells me, “Keep playing for this team and everything is forgiven. Especially the “Jaddu” haircut.”
I’ll update you tomorrow, my dear diary. Dad tells me I can have an autobiography released one day too, just like some gentleman called Sudeep Tyagi.
Declaring (lol) for now,
Ramesh S. Raina