The other big event these past few days was the victory of the men in blue over Pakistan in the finals of the 20:20 cup. A very real feeling had been brewing for some time, that the color blue had actually turned a slight faded shade in recent times. The sight of portly men, hopelessly chasing cricket balls over the fields of England, just served to strengthen that suspicion. The team was beginning to seem like the Jewels of the Nizam...resplendent in their individual values, but fit only for a museum!
Fresh air was needed and what we got was a gale! A beautiful storm, full and confident, pulsating with the vibrancy of youth, running for large parts only on the impatience of a generation that has had nothing to call its own. Realms have already been written, and more will be, on how it was done, what it felt like and what this holds for the future. But leaving all this aside, I would like to talk about towns.
The small towns of this country is where the future of the country lies. And this is not restricted to cricket alone. Maybe this is nowhere better reflected, nowhere better articulated, than in the persona of Dhoni. More than Dhoni the cricketer, perhaps it lies with Dhoni the ‘Idea’. The idea of a boy from the back of beyond, leading the country, head priest at the altar of its one true religion. The great masses love Dhoni for his cricket; that is a given. But more than that, I think they love what he represents. Nasser Hussain summed it beautifully a few months back- “they love him because they see a bit of themselves in him”. The desire to be relevant is conceivably one of the most primal desires in man and the person-from-nowhere would love nothing better than to be considered so, on a stage greater than what his circumstances may offer. The fact that Dhoni has achieved it is a cause for celebration for them, a beacon of fearless hope if you like.
Mukul Kesavan calls this breed the ‘Mofussil Man’, one who is hungry and eager to be part of the tectonic changes which he perceives yet seldom understands. The great attraction of ‘Bunty aur Babli’ was again in the promise it held for the Mofussil Man, much as the great attraction of cricket lies in the hope of upward mobility and acknowledged significance it offers him.
There is of course a risk in overanalyzing too much. So therefore, maybe I should simply relax, enjoy the ride and get the mofussil theories stored in the bag. Bring on the Aussies…the boys are hungry!!
Fresh air was needed and what we got was a gale! A beautiful storm, full and confident, pulsating with the vibrancy of youth, running for large parts only on the impatience of a generation that has had nothing to call its own. Realms have already been written, and more will be, on how it was done, what it felt like and what this holds for the future. But leaving all this aside, I would like to talk about towns.
The small towns of this country is where the future of the country lies. And this is not restricted to cricket alone. Maybe this is nowhere better reflected, nowhere better articulated, than in the persona of Dhoni. More than Dhoni the cricketer, perhaps it lies with Dhoni the ‘Idea’. The idea of a boy from the back of beyond, leading the country, head priest at the altar of its one true religion. The great masses love Dhoni for his cricket; that is a given. But more than that, I think they love what he represents. Nasser Hussain summed it beautifully a few months back- “they love him because they see a bit of themselves in him”. The desire to be relevant is conceivably one of the most primal desires in man and the person-from-nowhere would love nothing better than to be considered so, on a stage greater than what his circumstances may offer. The fact that Dhoni has achieved it is a cause for celebration for them, a beacon of fearless hope if you like.
Mukul Kesavan calls this breed the ‘Mofussil Man’, one who is hungry and eager to be part of the tectonic changes which he perceives yet seldom understands. The great attraction of ‘Bunty aur Babli’ was again in the promise it held for the Mofussil Man, much as the great attraction of cricket lies in the hope of upward mobility and acknowledged significance it offers him.
There is of course a risk in overanalyzing too much. So therefore, maybe I should simply relax, enjoy the ride and get the mofussil theories stored in the bag. Bring on the Aussies…the boys are hungry!!
2 comments:
i wouldn't limit this allegory of the mofussil man to just dhoni or baunty aur babli. frankly the deification that shah rukh khan has recieved lies entirely in the fact that he acheived coming from rajouri garden, new delhi NOT south delhi. or amitabh bachchan as well for his 13 flops that preceded his mega stardom. it's great to have such stories as inspiration (though if you ever intend to become an actor please don't learn anything from shah rukh khan or aby version 60.0). in fact it always baffled me why salman khan's tere naam character has been such a hit in the small towns. it baffles me still but i guess there's some resonance in the bathos of that warped character and the struggles of daily life in a small town.
but coming back to the mainpoint of your post....yay! we won! we won!
:)
like what you write about sir.
And the other thing that baffled me in Tere Naam was Salmans' hair...what in Gods name was going on there??!!
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