Of Fixtures and Fixers

          "Bhaisahab, jara khisko na please!", came a fervent plea from a lanky, thin man who was hoping to bag the coveted fourth seat to spend the next hour squirming and tutting. A local train's fourth seat holds a unique honour of being a source of comfort and distress at the same time. The jovial and rotund man, who was being addressed, gladly obliged, gave up the possession of a couple of inches of 'resting place' and immersed himself into his carefully folded newspaper. 

        

           Mr. Lanky peeped into the inky recesses of the tabloid to glean something from the lengthy sermons preached by the self-anointed 'wizards' of cricket (there are at least 1 billion of those in India alone).A former Pakistani fast bowler, who heavily depends on a ghost writer, was lambasting some current members of the team for their poor performance. Mr. Rotund gave a loud snort and exclaimed, "Saala fixer!". At least 5 dozen eyeballs turned towards Mr. Rotund. If you are unfamiliar with the ways of a Mumbai Local, you ought to know that nobody gives a damn to who is sitting beside you or opposite you until you start discussing politics or cricket. And the only time when so many heads are turned in the same direction is when the train enters a station and passes the point where women are waiting to board the ladies' coach. That is how eve teasers in Mumbai differ from those in Delhi. In Delhi, they shoot their victims. In Mumbai, they shoot with their eyeballs (ankhiyon se goli maarein...so true).

        

           Anyway, coming back to Mr. Rotund, he had used a word that enthralls millions of avid cricket debaters. Fixing! Mr. Rotund, with his paan-stained teeth and the mischievious gleam in his eyes, could have very well been a fixer by vocation. "Ha! Do they still think all these World Cup matches are being played sportingly?", said Mr. Rotund. He apparently knew something that the others didn't. All the 'standees' settled themselves on whichever shoulder was nearest and waited expectantly for the classified information. Mr. Lanky showed increasing signs of discomfort as he nudged and wiggled to settle himself for the session. 

           Mr. Rotund proceeded after another sarcastic laugh, " Sab paise ka khel hai. Look at these Akmals! Dramebaaz! The older one drops everything that is flung at him and the younger one feigns an injury to protect his elder sibling. And this isn't the first time! They could have tried something new this time. It's a known fact that Pakistani cricket can't survive without betting and vice versa. And it's not limited to Pakistani cricket! How else do you think their English counterparts earn their bread and butter (and tea)? And it's not limited to cricket either! Everything is fixed. Everything is decided. Right from which scam is to be next exposed by the media to which dictator is to be toppled by a 'popular' uprising. Global economy, global politics, global sports and everything else that can be printed in a newspaper is predetermined."

          Some of the listeners gasped while the others yawned. Conspiracy theories are not appreciated universally. Mr. Lanky looked perturbed. He was torn between disbelief and curiosity. Mr. Rotund continued, "There are marathon meetings to determine the exact number of scams to be exposed in a month. The current monthly target is n which would be n++ in the next month and so on. The number of babus and ministers to be incriminated is directly proportional to the number of zeros in the total money missing. If someone pleads guilty, his descendants are promised 1 Lok Sabha seat and 2 Assembly seats. If someone pleads not guilty, he or she is promised a gubernatorial position. There is also an annual award to felicitate the Distractor of the Year. DotY is the person who excels at distracting the nation's attention from pressing matters to trivial matters. A Parliament Session requires much more planning than a cricket match when it comes to 'fixing'. Firstly, there are more players involved. Secondly, there are no balls involved (pun intended). And thirdly, there are no rules. Whenever there's a major event scheduled, there's some fixing that surrounds the fixture. That's life!"

         This sinister talk continued even as the crowd dwindled. Some alighted, some shifted places. Mr. Rotund got up, adjusted his belt and proceeded to disembark. Mr. Lanky wiped the sweat off his brow,fished for the iPhone in his pocket,dialled a number and waited for someone to answer....."Pappu! Aaj chhota waala Akmal khelega! 1 catch aur 1 stumping!"