With Tired Eyes, Tired Minds, Tired Souls, We Slept

The brave do not feel pain. Or at least they cannot sense it any longer. Their hearts - an in-corrosive boundary of steel seldom leap with pangs of excitement and nervousness. Tears - there are hardly any. No matter how brutal life behaves, the brave muster a straight face. An expressionless facade. Are they lying? In a way, yes they are. We all are. In fact, I want to give up my bravery. I would rather cry my eyes out, than to have to bear this faint feeling of dejection. I would rather vandalise my surroundings, than to have to wake up with the happenings of yesterday rolling over in my head. Denial, at this stage, is pointless. It is like closing our eyes to the world. The world of reality. I mean, I knew it would sting. But what I did not know was that it would sting this much. It stung me so bad that I took up smoking to cure the ensuing depression.

After all, it was only a game of cricket, right? Probably not.

It was more than just a sport. Way more than simple viewing pleasure. It was something to look forward to. It was an exhilarating event, where we wanted to triumph. We wanted to make a statement to the world. We wanted to earn back our lost respect. But alas, this world only favours the weak. The nimble. It asks the brave, recurring, to make the sacrifices. It tells the bold to let go. Because, only the brave have enough strength to get back on their feet following the fall; only they can stoop over to collect fragments of whatever is left behind; only they can heave a sigh and start over. And unlike the rest, only they can rebuild their dreams.

And till that day arrives, they yearn.

We just had to lose, because there was so much at stake for the opponent. And for us as a nation, in light of the ongoing rebuke, mockery and the propaganda that we have been subject to, perhaps this defeat was always on the cards. It was not supposed to have made a difference to a side that already was in deep hot water. And as a democratic state where the people have no voice (whether by regulation or apathy), it was just another day when things did not go our way. And after that rush of fervour, zeal and ecstasy, we subsided. It was not fair, I know. But it was the only way it made sense.

With tired eyes, tired minds and tired souls we went home. Like we always have.

Like we always do...