Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Bleeding Blue

I am wounded, I am bruised,

Still I have no injuries,

But I have to undergo multiple surgeries.

Can someone please pass that bottle of glue,

Coz somehow I am Bleeding BLUE.


I had to put my car on mortgage,

I am all covered up with tricolored bandage,

Can someone please pass that bottle of glue,

Coz somehow I am Bleeding Blue.

I had an image of that cup,

But we always were the pups,


The God was asking for something tremendous,

Delivering every time it came to his shoulders.


It all began with Bangla's demolition,

Whom we taught what is our ambition.


Then came England's turn,

Which we couldn't return.


We lost one to the Africans,

And it made us the Hungrier Champions.


There were some amateurs after that,

Who said,"We will bowl, you bat."


Then came the match with an adrenaline pump,

And again, we made them run away taking Kangarooish Jumps.


And finally the pre-final came,

And I knew, whatever happens,

This game will bring all the fame.

And we made them hide in their bunkers,

Still having dreams of the balls hit for sixers.


Then came the day we were waiting for,

We had what we call our dream, His dream,

He was asking for nothing more,

And finally they made everyone scream.


I could sense that child in His smile,

I could see that tear in His glittering eyes,

I could feel the shiver in His body.

I could hear that loud cheer in His trembling voice's melody.


I cried, cried and cried,

Don't worry, I had, on my face, a huge smile.

We are ready to take anything on,

Whether it be a dry pitch,

Or there is presence of some dew.

Can someone now please pass that Bottle of Glue,

Coz I haven't stopped BLEEDING BLUE...:)


Dedicated to The God and all the Indians..


( Nipun is a die-hard fan of Coke and follow its advice whole heartedly: Eat Cricket, Sleep cricket - Drink only Coca Cola)

2 comments:

Rj Saavi said...

fall in love with cricket-without-balls......bleed blue! great wrk! awesome feel!

Nipun said...

Thanks Saavi..:)

Post a Comment