Provocation
She seemed to be totally unaffected
by all the commotion around her. She kept working in a relaxed and sedate
manner.
“Don’t be that harsh on yourself,
join the party; after all how often do we win the World Cup,” someone tried to provoke
her but his effort was half-hearted and pathetic. She knew that they
were all deliberately fooling themselves and that, in fact, they were all very
angry. But it was not a righteous anger.
It was after thirty years that the football
team had a golden chance of winning the World Cup. They were hosting the
tournament and they were in the final. Other team in the final was the weakest
team in the tournament; it was just sheer luck and some patchy hard work that had
enabled it to reach the final. The hosts were too confident of a thumping win.
The game was yet to start but
everyone had begun to celebrate. The frenzy had to be seen to be believed. They
had waited for many years for this intoxicating moment.
But to everyone’s shock and
disbelieve the host team lost and lost miserably. Celebrations turned into one long dirge.
No one knew that she was fighting her
own ghosts; her younger brother had been killed by riotous fans during a football
tournament five years back.
She pretended to remain unaffected. But she was not aware that her sang-froid was provoking them.
*******
A post for Three Word Wednesday and
Magpie Tales