This post had been sitting with puppy eyes in my
drafts for a month now and while I pen, this post stands out of regular. This is an
outrageous post. Okay, I exaggerated a little. Lately I have been thinking to
actually ponder upon something sensitive. Actually not that sensitive,
okay-okay-ish sensitive types.
It is okay to love something, but what if “love” exceeds the boundaries of okay? Nothing can be done; we have to live with it. Maruti television commercial says, “India, a country obsessed with mileage” but clearly they are wrong by miles. India has a bigger obsession, mileages doesn’t even make up to the “Top 10 Obsessions of India”. Cricket is the list topping obsession of India. For some, this obsession has crossed all the bars and boundaries (Not Chandni Bar, okay?); doesn’t matter if India is not playing, humein toh match he dekhna hai bas.
It is okay to love something, but what if “love” exceeds the boundaries of okay? Nothing can be done; we have to live with it. Maruti television commercial says, “India, a country obsessed with mileage” but clearly they are wrong by miles. India has a bigger obsession, mileages doesn’t even make up to the “Top 10 Obsessions of India”. Cricket is the list topping obsession of India. For some, this obsession has crossed all the bars and boundaries (Not Chandni Bar, okay?); doesn’t matter if India is not playing, humein toh match he dekhna hai bas.
