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By:

Waleed Hussain

4 March 2025 at 2:34:30 pm

When T20 Cricket Finally Admitted It Was Professional Wrestling with Pads

At the Arun Jaitley Stadium, Delhi Capitals committed the ultimate act of sporting arrogance. They racked up 264 for 2, patted themselves on the back, and presumably started drafting victory tweets. KL Rahul delivered a masterclass 152 not out, Nitish Rana chipped in with 91, and the Delhi dugout looked like they had just invented fire. The bowlers? They were already mentally booking spa appointments to recover from the trauma of watching the ball sail into the stands like it owed them money....

When T20 Cricket Finally Admitted It Was Professional Wrestling with Pads

At the Arun Jaitley Stadium, Delhi Capitals committed the ultimate act of sporting arrogance. They racked up 264 for 2, patted themselves on the back, and presumably started drafting victory tweets. KL Rahul delivered a masterclass 152 not out, Nitish Rana chipped in with 91, and the Delhi dugout looked like they had just invented fire. The bowlers? They were already mentally booking spa appointments to recover from the trauma of watching the ball sail into the stands like it owed them money. Enter Punjab Kings — the team that treats every run chase like a personal vendetta against bowlers’ self-esteem. What unfolded wasn’t cricket. It was a carefully orchestrated heist, a stand-up routine where the punchline was delivered in sixes, and the audience (Delhi’s bowling unit) was left questioning every life choice that led them to this moment. Prabhsimran Singh swaggered to the crease like a man who had already won the match in the parking lot. 76 off 26 balls. Nine fours, five sixes. The powerplay? A grotesque 100+ runs of pure, unadulterated violence. Bowlers weren’t just getting hit — they were being publicly shamed, their economy rates dragged through the mud and left there to dry under the Delhi sun. Priyansh Arya joined the carnage, and suddenly the target of 265 started looking as intimidating as a “Wet Floor” sign in a flooded bathroom. Shreyas Iyer, the dignified captain, played the role of “responsible adult” with 71 not out off 36 deliveries. In any other match, this would be carnage. Here, it passed for calm stewardship. While others swung like they were trying to chop down trees, Iyer collected runs with the serene expression of a man wondering if he should order paneer or butter chicken post-match. Punjab polished off the target in 18.5 overs, six wickets intact, seven balls to spare, and the sort of casual swagger usually reserved for people returning overdue library books without a fine. The broader satire writes itself. Modern T20 cricket has become an arms race where the only loser is the concept of a “respectable total.” Bowlers, once proud warriors, are now glorified ball-fetchers in a batting-dominated circus. Pitches are flatter than election promises, boundaries shorter than Gen Z attention spans, and rules so batter-friendly that even the umpires look sympathetic. Delhi built what should have been a monument — a glorious 264 on a road so true it could have doubled as a highway — only for Punjab to drive a monster truck through it while blasting horns and waving at spectators. Cricket purists are in full meltdown mode, huddled in dimly lit rooms, clutching faded copies of Wisden and muttering about “the good old days when maidens existed.” Commentators exhausted every superlative in the English language and resorted to incoherent screaming. Social media, naturally, lost its collective mind. One half celebrated Punjab as gods of the new era; the other half demanded a return to red-ball cricket, preferably with uncovered pitches and bowlers allowed to glare menacingly without fear of a demerit point. This result wasn’t merely a win. It was a cultural reset. Punjab Kings, long the lovable underachievers of the IPL, have now authored the top two highest successful chases in league history. They’re not just winning matches — they’re embarrassing the very idea of defending a total. At this rate, future IPL auctions will see teams bidding for “bowlers who can at least pretend to try” while batters demand appearance fees for showing up. Delhi Capitals deserve a special mention for their contribution to this farce. They provided the perfect setup: a record total, star performances, home advantage, and the quiet confidence that physics and common sense would finally prevail. Instead, they became the straight man in Punjab’s comedy routine. Rahul’s heroics? Reduced to a footnote. The match? Less a contest, more performance art. In the end, this is what we’ve come to love and loathe about T20 cricket. It’s loud, ridiculous, utterly devoid of restraint, and endlessly entertaining. Bowlers may demand hazard pay or form a union. Traditionalists may threaten to boycott. But the crowds will keep coming, the sixes will keep flying, and records will continue to fall like overpriced IPL franchise valuations. Punjab Kings didn’t just chase 265. They chased away any remaining illusion that this sport still resembles the gentleman’s game our grandparents watched. In its place stands a glittering, chaotic, six-hitting machine — and honestly? We’re all better for it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check the points table. Apparently, defending anything above 200 is now considered radical extremism.

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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