They were telling Hari Bhajan Sing to go and daub Bengal Tiger's face with colour. But, the Holi idea hardly amused Hari Bhajan Sing. "Tell me to spin his head, but don't ask me to paint his face," an exasperated Sing said. "By the way, whose idea is this?"
"Sau(n) Rab di, it wasn't me, Bhajji," Dada said, smearing gulal in the beard. Petite Patel walked in with a Chhota Pepsi. "Not me, too."
"Then who was that?" asked Hari Bhajan. "I Donna know," Dada said and started humming a Bollywood Nagma.
"Why're you boys fighting over a Silly Point," someone shouted from Long On. His gait was unstable, swinging like a Tendulum. Left, right, left, right.
Enter Sachin, a (overweight) bat in one hand and bhaang in the other. Sanjay Bhang(ar) followed suit. Dada stopped singing. "I Warne you guys not to take all this during the matches," he said, "unless, of course, you want to Shane off the tournament." Sachin, he knows, is a spoilt Brad. But, he's no longer a kid, so people call him a Brad man. Some also call him the diuretic, oops, Diminutive Dynamite.
"What happened?" Vir Ender-ed the Gully. He was mollycoddling Mian's Calf. Hari Bhajan Sing felt like hooking the entire team off to square leg. Only Zooooom-Hir Khan can do that, he thought. But, the problem was Ra-Owl, who stood like a wall, defending the team from Zooooom-Hir's pace.
Sachin and Sanjay started taking some more bhaang. The two were humming, "The ass hissed and Behra ran." No one knew whatever that meant. And no one wanted to know either.
WorldMohan was sitting on a Dal, gesturing to Mian. Like a viewer in the stands, he was enjoying the Hansie-panky. It was as if he had fixed it.
Calf picked up cowpat and hurled it towards WorldMohan. He cowered on the Dal to duck Mian's throw. The dung fell on Bin-esh, who was sitting in a corner and mumbling, "Main to kuch karta hi nahin hoon. Na run banata hoon, na out karta hoon. Bus Frite peeta hoon aur gyaan deta hoon."
Hari Bhajan was not fuming any longer. Trust Sachin to calm people with, what else! Bhaang. In walked Anil Crumble Lee with a sprinkler. "Look Dada who I've brought. Sri was having a Bath. I dragged him out."
Andrew stood up from Down Under, training his sight on John's boys. John, he thought, was Wright. These men (in blue) are dyed-in-the-wool. Be that Saccharine Sachin or cool Ra-Owl.

Men in Blue,
Were Down with flu
For, with bhaang,
They also did the Dew.


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