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Passing the parcel should be our national game

After the manner in which our Commonwealth Games were organised, powers that be seem to think we have it in us to not only bid for the Olympic Games, but host them. Temporarily blinded by a successful opening ceremony, it is opined that all the disasters and financial irregularities that preceded it can be written off. But if our country is to bid for the Olympic Games, a few changes are sure to bring about some radical results.

Firstly, hockey should be dropped as our national game. The steady decline and mismanagement has caused it to be an object of mockery. There were a few war cries for cricket to be accorded national game status. But the game is far too commercialised. Let it remain the unofficial national game. An official sanction doesn’t add much value to the behemoth. But there is an innocuous game that plays itself tirelessly (and boringly) in parties. It involves a stupid ritual of passing a parcel and making sure that you aren’t caught with the parcel when the music stops. Here’s how it plays out in our daily lives.

Take a leisurely stroll and you’ll see a freshly tarred road sporting a freshly dug up look a day later. So you decide to play investigative journalist and ask a worker why the road is being dug up. Well they say, new cables have to be laid and we got permission only a couple of days back. Why not pose the question to the cable guys? When the question is posed to the cable guys, they bark in their defence about how the permission was delayed. It was supposed to be done weeks before the road was to be tarred they say, but the approval from the corporators came late. So you ask the corporators office and they say the request never came on time. So you go back to the cable guys with all the above answers. No, they say, they sent the request by post (and they have proof). Go ask the post office. So you ask the post office. The post man was attacked by stray dogs a couple of weeks back and he dropped the bag and ran for life. The letter may have been in the bag they say. So finally, the cable guys and the tar guys got their orders within days of each other. More specifically, the cable guys got the orders after the tar guys. Or so we are supposed to presume.

Recently, the games village was found in what was termed ‘unlivable’ conditions. Obviously, this caused people to ask who was to be blamed. The organising committee said our responsibility is only on the scams, not the village. The Chief Minister’s office said they had not received an official request to take charge. The chief officer said he was lied to. The chairman of the committee called the chief officer a liar. Then the chief officer said to the chairman one liar recognises another.
We blame our politicians for the state of our country. The politicians blame other politicians. The other politicians blame the population. The population blames the failure of birth control. The poor blame the middle class. The middle class blames the upper middle class. The upper middle class blames the rich. The rich blame the political class. The political class, after running out of options, blames the dead political class.


So before we bid for the Olympics, we must incorporate this game as the national game with immediate effect. No game in the history of sport can boast of such participation. Unofficial brand ambassadors of the game like Madhu Koda and Ramalinga Raju will be cursing themselves as they didn’t get enough practice. So get set for the biggest ever extravaganza that is headed your way.
I’m game. Are you?
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