Indian Cricket

a poem by Shruti S Rao

Saurav makes a hundred
Rahul hits a four
And the crowd dumbfounded
Burst into a roar.

But when the same champions
Get out without opening their account
The spectators in the pavilion
Brood over their spent amount.

And then come the selectors Bravo
With a view to create a winning team
But all they manage to do
Is remove the Indian cream.

Now the team looks shattered
With confidence jerked to the seam
The coach the captain altered
We now have a losing team.

If Kumble makes the opposition tumble
He gets the praise with garlands and flowers
But if he dares to fumble
He is in for mourning hours.

And when an Indo-Pak match comes in
People rush to buy a ticket
Sometimes we lose sometimes we win
After all this is Indian Cricket!