“It’s
bright and sunny out here at the Melbourne Cricket Ground.
The pitch looks perfectly dry with a green tinge on it; seems like a bowlers’ paradise out here. We are all set to witness an enthralling day of high-voltage cricket out here.”
The pitch looks perfectly dry with a green tinge on it; seems like a bowlers’ paradise out here. We are all set to witness an enthralling day of high-voltage cricket out here.”
“Sounds
good alright, let’s do that again”; the senior media personnel shouted!
“Ladies
and Gentlemen, welcome to the MCG for the Grand Finale of the tournament that
has already left a permanent mark on our cricketing minds. Yes, it’s the ultimate
battle for glory; the Women’s World Cup Final, the trophy that signifies dominance
that signifies pride........”
“CUT!”
“What
happened Sir, anything wrong?” – The creative director was flabbergasted! The shoot
had just announced its glorious kick- off when this unprecedented interruption
wrecked the crew.
She
was stoned!
“We
cannot go ahead with this footage; not gonna work at THIS level”; the grumpy camera-man
had almost dismantled the accessories off his gigantic camera! The guy with the
script followed suit. It was quite evident that something had gone terribly
wrong!
She
still had no clue; everything was going according to the plan, till this very
moment, the moment that could change the course of her life.
There
she stood, in her pale and dull self, contemplating the outcome of the irrefutable
blunder. She’d denied a lucrative job offer just to explore the creative side
in her and flew down to Australia for this “dream” project! Yet, there was no
chance of wiping out the last few seconds of her life.
Trina,
a gorgeous Bong had managed to defy the so-called realm of objective thinking
or uni-directional enterprise and headed towards the goal that only a few could
have dared to imagine. The love for adventure and passion for sport had driven
her across the country in search of inner peace. She’d been an avid
photographer, a wild-life virtuoso, a wonderful mimic, an RJ, a philanthropist
and a BIG time cricket-fanatic; in short, Jack of all trades. It was just a
matter of time that her reach would touch the sky; yet her wait was extended.
The stakes were quite high.
“The
All-India Woman-Commentator Hunt” proved to be her favourite hunting ground
where she “outplayed” a strong contingency of over 500 Indians to emerge as the
first Bengali commentator to travel to Australia for covering the Grand Finale
of the Women’s Cricket World Cup; an achievement to boast upon.
And
so, the gallant bong was all charged up for the BIG day; the day that was
destined to turn out to be the RED letter day in her booming career, the career
that had no upper limit to impose. Her confidence was sky-high; a job offer
from the leading Consulting firm was as in consequent as ever. All her hopes and
aspirations rested on the final shoot scheduled at the MCG; the breeding ground
for cricketing legends. 22 Yards of grace, was just about to smile on her
endurance.
The
D Day arrived at pace and it started off on a flying tone. The script was grasped
and represented like a piece of cake and the stage was set for the rise of a
perfect counterpart; the one who would share a common platform with the likes
of Ravi Shastri, Harsha Bhogle, the late Tony Grieg or Ian Chappel.
*Goosebumps*!
The
road had to be perilous; it had to test the best and distinguish “RAW” talent
from the rest. However, the deterrent arrived in the most unfortunate form as
ever.
Her
“graceful intoxication” had just started to get the better of “their” instincts
when the camera spotted something disgraceful, something ignominious, something
undesirable. Dressed in a cream-blended overcoat and analogous footwear, Trina,
in her boundless excitement had transgressed one of the prime aspects of “a glorious
representation”. The gravity of the moment had seeped into her deeply; thereby
switching off that diminutive part of her brain that asserted “Come on Trina; add completeness to your
semblance”!
Lamentably,
her ever-charming confidence and fluency in speech couldn’t save the day; the
team of directors gridlocked the shoot well before the match. It was all about the
“perfection”, the “garnishing” that Trina fell well short of.
The
focus shifted quickly as the cameras spotted the legendary Wasim Akram walking
out of the dressing room and heading towards the pitch for his pre-match
analysis!
She
couldn’t move! She was supposed to accompany him right to the centre of the greens and to launch her array of analysis in association with the former
left-arm quickie and cricketing expert! She was supposed extend a warm welcome to the viewers from across the globe on behalf of the Sports International; her voice to resound across the remotest of villages back in India; her appearance as a symbol of iconic charm! NOT TO BE!
Yes, her slightest bit of negligence had gutted it all.
I wish I had opted for my hair removal; she murmured as she held her tears back with extremely difficulty. The stray spread of cilium had proved to be brutal.
So, do you want to land up in an identical scenario termed as the Commentator's curse? (Never-mind, I have used my bloggers license :P) I'm sure the answer would be NO!
No worries, the Solution is precisely given below :)
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