While the weary sun quietly makes way for the blue cheek moon and while every single soul in the neighborhood takes to bed, I find myself wide awake. Amidst the murmuring darkness, beside my snoring spouse, I wait impatiently for the dawn to break. How do I express the emphatic and excruciating long wait for a mere game to begin. With just days to go, skipping heart beats and the brotherhood on social networks seem to be the order of the day. Everything else takes a back seat as I try to maintain my composure with a glass of wine! This wait makes so much sense and no sense at all.
I despise the game ever since there has been a flurry of sub-tournaments as they aptly say ‘too many cooks spoil the broth’. Players, pitches, ICC rankings, format everything looked a distant dream until ‘World Cup’ came along. So much has changed of the game with power-play & UDRS (Umpire Decision Review System), I wonder. My husband's animated discussion on strategies every other day leaves me bewildered and thoroughly confused and yet today I find myself impatiently tapping my fingers and counting days. This wait makes so much sense and no sense at all.
My body tells me to do a little jig yet I refrain from such child-like attitude. My heart calls upon on the color ‘Blue’ and I refrain. My lips quips ‘I am coming home’.
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