Cricket almost killed me!

It was a sunny day. I was fed up of studying (as usual) and was getting bored. There was nothing to do at home. No people to play pranks on, no kids to harass, no chicks to check out. I felt like a child in a bank.

While I was roaming in the house suddenly my dad noticed that my hair had grown beyond the ‘length of management’. “Go get a haircut. You look like a Goat!” he said. Now I never care to shave or get a haircut until and unless someone reminds me that I’m looking like some Stone Age Man.

So I kicked my bike and went for a haircut. I’m not one of those who’d fancy a long relaxing haircut/shave/massage. Being surrounded by gossipy people and sharp steel instruments does not comfort me much. Much to my dismay I discover that a cricket match is going on. All eyes are glued to the TV (what is the need of a TV in a hair cutting place anyways!) Boy I HATE Cricket so much!

Thus the whole ordeal started. This cuttingwala took me for a dummy used in crash testing it seems. He was revolving my head trying to check whether there was any creaking noise coming from my pivot joint! Finally he started his work with the damn scissors. Cut Cut Cut… Snip Snip Snip. As if he was trying to show off that he was doing a great piece of art. Personally I don’t give a damn coz my preferred ‘cut’ is the Ghajini cut which will keep me away from the hair dressers for at least 2-3 months and it requires the least talent!

Most of the time, his eyes were glued to the TV, which was making me more tensed than the batsman who was just about to score a century. I feared the consequences of the century… What if this cuttingwala jumped? Got excited? Raised his scissors (bat) in the air to salute the spectators? I had begun to sweat now (as if I was the captain of the losing team)

I must say this guy had some talent. He was snipping away bindass all the while looking at the TV (even I can send sms while looking at the professor’s face!). Plus he was giving gr8 gyaan on the players too. Some Fan huh! I was waiting for the whole thing to get over as soon as possible. Suddenly his favorite batsman got out. My heart skipped a beat and his scissors a few inches. I rushed closer to the mirror to check the damage. Thankfully it was negligible. I thanked God that he was not shaving my beard at that time!

But I guess even god was in a wicked mood that day. Soon he finished with my hair and turned towards my beard. The cricket match was getting more and more interesting (Sadly!) I was desperately praying to God to make it rain so that the match gets abandoned. I was ready to sing Malhar or even do a ‘ooga cha cha booga cha cha’ rain dance if need be. My mind drifted off to Facebook and Mafia Wars wherein you “slice” your opponents. Why the hell did I ever come to this place before checking what was on the TV?

He started on my face with the sharp razor. Needless to day I was getting worried if my hair would ever grow again. I was beginning to plot the murders of the people who invented cricket altogether. It was the last over and the match had reached an over excited stage. Even I had reached an over excited stage. What if the blade went directly through my throat? What if it damaged my sensual vocal cords? Oh hell I din want to get sacrificed to the demon called cricket! It was the last few balls. Few runs needed. The hairdressers place had turned into a stadium. But this idiot wouldn’t let go of my neck.

It was the last ball. 4 runs to win. I was feeling weak. Almost passing out! The bowler went for his run up. People were getting so close to the TV, that they could almost enter it. Cuttingwala was going in for the kill…. Err I mean the last swish of the blade.

“STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP" I screamed! "I need a glass of water.” He stared at me like I’d asked for some Rum. Luckily he removed his hand from the radius of my neck. The last bowl was balled, and got hit for a SIX! OMG was I happy that I was safe! Everyone jumped with joy. He came back with a smile and a glass of water. I gulped it down even though I din need it. I guess he watched the last ball from beyond the water filter.

It was my time to leave. I asked him "Kitna?" He was so happy that we won, that he did not take a dime from me. Amazed by his reactions, I got out of the place quickly lest he changes his mind. Boy do I LOVE Cricket!

PS: This post is dedicated to SivArchana of Yemiledu who inspired, coerced, forced, nudged, demanded and ordered me into writing this post. Dunno what's wrong, but I have many topics in mind to write about but when I face the keyboard, I just feel so lazy that I procrastinate it. Lets hope this is a new beginning and I'll continue to irritate you guys with the lovable rubbish that I usually dish out!
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Article by Saurabh Panshikar who blogs at Stuff I Learnt Today.

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