Hello hello hello, welcome to that wonderful time of the year. No no, not the IPL or the overdose of horrible advertisement time. The time when Farah Khan pops into random people's rooms, kitchens and loos and asks them to dance on a song whose lyrics remind proud parents of their infants first beautiful words. "Japang. Gilli gilli aa."
Before moving on to the main subject of this post, this is what has been happening so far in the league. Chris Gayle seems scarier than Gabbar Singh ever did and his shots fly higher than anything Vijay Mallya ever owned. Virat Kohli is the first Indian cricketer to speak proper English since Rahul Dravid and Saurav Ganguly without sounding like a 14 year old girl (Yes yes I mean Sachin) or saying "But of course" in the beginning of every sentence. The Pune Warriors are fallen Warriors who need more than just "Sahara" from their owners, Hyderabad have named their team after a time of the day I've never seen. As per usual it's the most important time in Preity Zinta's calendar and to top it all of, there's the hilarity of seeing Delhi men get raped for a change. All of that and the over abundance of obviousness of match fixing for TRPs has lead me to call the league, The Retartded Indian Premier League or RIP(L).
Then lo and behold, out comes the Pepsi IPL and all of a sudden we have dramatic last ball finishes, tied matches, nervous nail bitting and a nation going, "Wow man, cricket is the best sport in the world." While the more astute of us question, "Pepsi? Weren't they trying to "Change The Game" to football only a year ago? And while some other men go, "Bhai, Karishma Kotak maal hai."
But wait there's more, there are another 7 overs of slow runs being scored and before you know it there's another 2 minute 30 second break for the bookies to earn more money. Then the second innings gets under way and it all starts again. Up until the 15th or 16th over of that match, you're pretty sure which team might win.