Soliloquy

The field is set, the rest of the players make
their way back to where they were standing earlier
while the one new to the crease hesitates slightly
before turning towards the right side of the end.
Those closest to him anticipate something big
about to come their way but his ubiquitousness
hardly ruffles a feather. The assurance he portrays
to the bowler that he is here to stay with the presentation
of the full face of his bat along with the sound
of solidity echoing through the green fields full
of sunshine and well-earned respect allows the
fielders to go back to where they were standing
and count down to when they can break for tea.

The stage is set, the displays of unwarranted
machismo calls for loud shouts of “Encore” from the
crowd but this is before they even realise that the
starlet of this show has not made his bow yet.
The people in the crowd watch with luscious delight
as curtain call after curtain call of avant-garde
performers fill the night with unfiltered pleasure.
Then, almost as if he is too embarrassed to break
the reverie created by his fellows in the same show,
our man makes his way unaccompanied by any of
fame’s in-laws on to the stage. By the time the night
has ended and the crowd has roared their palatable approval,
he has found prudence in the middle of a nowhere…