Yajuj and Majuj have come back from India after watching the cricket extravaganza, smelling of dals and vegetables as they could not find any halal karhai gosht or roast chicken anywhere and they were hankering for meat. So I invited them for a sumptuous meaty meal.
I was very keen to share their travel experiences in India and while their tiny mouths were full of chicken botis, I asked, “How the devil did you manage to cross over into India, without a passport or valid documents?”
“It was easy,” they chuckled. “We told them that we were politicians and intellectuals of Pakistan and they let us go.”
“But you are midgets, Lilliputians for heavens sake.”
“Exactly, that is why they believed us.”
“Enough of the wisecracks,” I almost lost my temper at their insolence. “So somehow or the other, you crossed into India, but how did you manage to get in to the stadiums? The tickets were hard to come by.”
“That was also easy, we hid ourselves in some buxom lady’s blouse or jumped into her handbag and along with her we were transported into the stadium. In Delhi it was easier. Yajuj hid in Manmohan Singh’s turban and although it was slightly risky, I took refuge in Pervez Musharraf’s bushy hair. It was risky because the gentleman has the habit of repeatedly brushing his hair with his hand, like Dilip Kumar and I tell you he was no less than a filmi hero, ask the ladies of Delhi.”
“Look Majuj ...”
“I am Yajuj.”
“Whosoever you are, I am not interested in the amorous looks of our President, although I now have some interest in parties, I am only interested in the cricket matches you have watched directly.”
“Did you not watch them on TV?”
“I did, like most of the Pakistanis I wasted full 21 days glued to the TV screen.”
“But that cannot be,” both of them smiled. There was no match that lasted for 21 days.”
“Ah, after all you are Lilliputians and your brain is no bigger than a dot, wisecracking about our esteemed politicians and intellectuals, 21 days is the total duration of three Test matches and six One-Day fixtures you stupid.”
“We stand corrected,” they again smiled but rather maliciously this time. “We hope your politicians and intellectuals also had the courage to admit they are just like us.”
“Enough is enough,” I removed the chicken karhai from the table. “You cannot keep on insulting me and my countrymen and gobble my chicken at the same time.”
“We can you know,” they replied in chorus. “Because we are in the karhai ourself, I am clinging to a leg-piece and Majuj is having fun with the breast.” The hateful Lilliputians were right; I could not possibly grab them with my fingers because they had become slippery with the gravy so grudgingly I let them have fun.
They burped for a while in unison and then most probably it was Majuj who spoke, “We are really grateful for the chicken karhai because in India even if you eat meat, it tastes like cabbage, we had koftas once and they were made of sag and cabbage; just imagine!”
“I will if you permit me imagine it latter, but first the details of good old cricket.”
“First of all, despite all the hullagulla of Pak-India friendship the crowd reaction was rather unfriendly, only in Mohali, our boys were cheered a little, otherwise in Banglore or in New Delhi there was a deafening silence whenever a Pakistani batsman scored a six or a four. The same silence was observed as in mourning when any of the Indian batsman lost his wicket. The positive advantage of this silence benefited the blind “spectators”; they immediately knew if a Pakistani batsman was on a rampage or an Indian is leaving the crease. For an Indian their cricketers are mini-gods and they cannot tolerate their ungodly failures whereas we Pakistanis are at times pleased with the failure of our team so that we can proudly claim that we told you so, the team is good for nothing.”
“And what was this good for nothing team like, any comments?”
“Very frankly most of them were totally unfamiliar, at times we thought that this lethargic young fellow roaming around is an ice-candy man or some bearer, and the very next moment he was bowling and smashing the wickets of Tendulkar or Ganguly. Then there was this little kid, keeping the wickets and we were amazed that a Vietnamese was hired for the job by our cricket board. He kept on smiling and chirping all the time, “Shabash Danish”, “Well-bowled Rana” etc. and I tell you he was a real pain in the, you know where. But he did his job splendidly. Do you know his name?” “I am afraid I don’t but I thought he was an Indonesian!”
“Oh yes, I forgot this Rana somebody who was declared the Man of the Series, never saw the fellow before but we think he needs a hair transplant to improve his image. Then there was this tall elderly fellow, perhaps Arshad Khan who looked totally bored while bowling and his boredom affected the Indian batsmen and they got bowled. There were lot of beards around in the Pakistani camp and at times it looked more like a gathering in Raiwind than a cricket match.”
“What were the most perplexing moments during these matches?”
“When Irfan Pathan, Mohammad Kaif and Zaheer Khan faced Danish Kinaria’s bowling.”
“What was so perplexing in it?”
“Well don’t you see a Hindu bowling to sons of our Umma, the Muslims, it was difficult to decide whom to cheer, if we cheered the Muslim players as was our duty as good Muslims then Pakistan suffered and if we sided with Kaneria and supported Pakistan. But then we were up against our Muslim brethren.”
“So how did you resolve this tricky problem?”
“We asked Allah to forgive us and decided, Pakistan first. Although we are not supporters of Musharraf, even though some of his colleagues are from our creed, sort of Lilliputians.”
“You know that Kaneria went to the Kali Devi temple in Calcutta for blessings?”
“We know he did and that is why he did so well, Kali Devi it seems has a soft corner for Pakistanis and we should be gracious enough to thank her by saying ‘Kali Mata ki Jai’.”
“What were the most entertaining moments during these matches?”
“When at the end of a match, our rolypoly Inzi spoke in English.”
“Look here, English is not our mother tongue, Ronaldo, Maradonna, Zidane and Ch. Shujaat don’t speak a word of it. But they are great guys in their respective fields.”
“Well you asked me what were the most entertaining moments and I don’t mind a bit if the whole team is devoid of English language.”
“Now that you have mentioned it, what was so entertaining about it?”
“The commentator, Ravi Shastri asked Inzi, “Well you are victorious Inzamam, when did you realize that you are going to win this game?” and Inzi replied “The boys work hard, they do good, very good because the boys worked hard”. And then Shastri would enquire “What was your game plan?” and Inzi spoke like a cool cucumber “The boys work very hard, good game because the boys work hard, thank you”. However, Rana Naveed did better he said “I will speak in Urdu so that people may understand what I am saying”.
“So it is your opinion that Pakistan was a better side and the Indians were rotten?”
“No, not at all. The Indians were a great side and still are and the Pakistanis were raw and inexperienced but some time a little David overpowers a Goliath and that is what happened.”
“You are mean Lilliputians like the two of you who make fun of our heroes and criticizing their English after gobbling a chicken karhai at my expense? By the way last of the Dahlias have withered away and there isn’t a single flower around, so where are you going to live?”
“We have a game plan. We are going to the President house and we are sure there will be some place for two more Lilliputians. Goodbye.”
Yajuj and Majuj have come back from India after watching the cricket extravaganza, smelling of dals and vegetables as they could not find any halal karhai gosht or roast chicken anywhere and they were hankering for meat. So I invited them for a sumptuous meaty meal.
