Column

Tales from the Locker Room

As I put on my blue sequined pants with large purple hearts over my netted lace vest with Lycra finishing, I couldn't help thinking how the present one-day series has been played between India and Australia, in a very acrimonious fashion.

The love is missing. The gesturing, harsh words, and exaggerated expressions are what you would expect in a marriage, but certainly not in a cricket match.

As I try my acrylic green cloak, over my caterpillar mask, one could not help observing that the experience of a 'Jhalak Dikhla Jaa' would work wonders for the two teams. I mean the minute you wear spandex you immediately feel the need to be the alpha male slipping away.

The moment you do your first twirl in a tight aquamarine corset you feel the machismo ebbing away. By the time you finish your final pirouette, ending with your right leg nine inches above your left ear, the need to battle is replaced by a fervent desire that the entiresociety be dressed in tight corsets and do the same, simultaneously lip-synching to the reverential cadence of the immortal 'Aika Dajiba'.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if instead of spitting and threatening each other, Andrew Symonds and Sreesanth walk up to one another, then after sizing each other up at close quarters, suddenly break into the salsa, hips-writhing, bodies pulsating rhythmically forward one, two, three, back one, two, three …..

Next, Harbajan and Hayden break into the twist, the only physical contact being when their hip majestically caress! Wouldn't it be great if Dhoni and Ponting broke into the jive, sequel into the fox trot, and then the garba for the encore?

Yup, there is a way to stop man's innate aggression—a simple winning combination would be dance and spandex….now will somebody zip me up from the back please?