IPL 2014: The Antony who swayed the mob, yet again

It has been a week since the hubbub started. Some hundred pairs of eyes glued to the television, men yelling themselves hoarse and going delirious with a euphoric joy rarely seen. In the sand dunes of the Middle East, the Indian panorama is gaining in popularity and growing in stature.

No, neither has Indian won the World Cup nor have the results of polls had a premature release. It’s again that old jack who has pulled on his saintly shoes. The villain who was crucified with a ghastly disdain in the prequel is back again as the much heralded hero in the sequel to the same saga. “Maxi-Miller combo” along with other one-liners in the similar vein is doing the rounds, keeping the audience on tenterhooks. IPL 14 is back with a bang, as loud a cacophony as there ever was, if not louder.

Roll back the reels. Sparks were flying at frenetic rates. Words weren’t minced in conveying emotions which were high on octane. The clarion call for the heads of the bosses was booming with an alarming abhorrence. Unheralded players became overnight stars or rather villains in the media, both visual and print. The bane of spot fixing reared its head with all its ugliness, loosening tongues and opening eyes.

The extremists called for a complete stoppage of a league which was portrayed as an obnoxious weed in the cricketing garden. The moderates, more toned in thought and astute in action, demanded a complete cleansing of the IPL laundry, whose pieces of dirty linen had been hung up in public. Mass outrage, in ferocious magnitudes, was visible in the missiles fired from multiple quarters towards the IPL’s epicentre.

The game’s biggest stakeholders, the audience, were taken for a ride, courtesy an action flick on display, which ultimately was a one pre-decided and pre-planned to fatten the pockets of the bosses and select players, but fool the masses. The reality which millions witnessed or thought to witness turned out to be a mirage. Moments of thrill turned out to be ounces of adrenaline wasted.

The brand IPL was in absolute shambles, believed by many to take a turn for the worse. Brands are built on consumer loyalty and IPL had tinkered with the same, digging its own grave and inviting doom for a date. With everyone, right from the political bigwigs to the layman on the streets voicing an opinion, the emotion of equivocal frustration stood out by a countrymile.

The tomfoolery in IPL had reached its pinnacle, slicing beyond the extreme levels of tolerance. Cricket in India is a religion personified; an institution which enjoys the unblemished faith of an entire nation, spanning beyond ethnic and linguistic barriers. That questions in preposterous magnitudes were looming over its authenticity is a shame to the sanctity of the same.

With the ghosts of a bandwagon of issues that plagued the league far from exorcized, it is as saddening a misery as it can get for the pragmatist, when the league is enjoying a deluge of followers and enamouring a truckload more. The sheer glitterati on display masks over a reality, which when analysed and understood is excruciating, agonizing and a pill extremely hard to digest.

As the 2014 edition of the IPL caravan attains momentum with a global bandwagon of worshippers providing it the fuel to accelerate at full throttle, the league, along with stamping down its authority in stentorian style, has left a subtle yet strong message. It is still a loved one. Followers are far from scanty. Fixed or not, rigged or otherwise, IPL indeed pours the nectar of entertainment to Indian throats, parched with pining in the summer heat.

The reason behind the acceptance the league still commands is a question lingering on many a head. The courts are yet to give the league a clean chit. Crooks are in the thick of things, donning the cloak of righteousness. In a nutshell, the basket is far from empty of rotten apples. Yet the nocturnal extravaganza lords over the side shows.

Television ratings shoot up, and fans throng the stadia. IPL, in its 7^th incarnation, played a Mark Antony to perfection, swaying millions into its niche through guile, glamour and grace. Are we foolish enough to be tricked twice? Are we remaining oblivious to the fact that what unfolds before us might be a perfect encryption of a well scripted play?

The IPL’s design is governed by flair, to woo hearts and attract eyeballs. The sighs of despair are trampled over by gasps of admiration. The league is glamour personified, lives on thrill hill and mesmerises one and all with moments that marvel. It more than quenches the thirst of a bloke, craving for wholesome entertainment, at an economic price, even if it means deception at a trickster’s den.

From a marketer’s perspective, IPL still is a conduit that offers visibility to a brand. It remains a channel to communicate value to a wider, larger audience on a common platform. With fantasy leagues on the web, applications to build dream teams etc., offering variety to add visual appeal, IPL is an investment for short term corporate gains, if not a long term security for the future. Bucks will keep pouring in and stakeholders in the IPL bandwagon will never cease to exist as long as the league commands a place in the typical cricket fan’s paradise.

IPL never was equated with authentic, wholesome cricketing action. Neither was it held synonymous with a big wig international fixture like the Ashes or a World Cup. It is akin to a racy-pacy Bollywood flick which is to be viewed, enjoyed and relished with a pack of popcorn, armed with the full knowledge that on-screen action neither metamorphoses into reality nor depicts the real world. It is loved for what it is, not grieved for what it is not. For all its financial muscle, the league isn’t a big deal, though the game is.

From a hardcore cricket aficionado’s perspective, the game represents a part of one’s self, hard to disown, harder to banish. The love for the game a true fan nurtures, is a more profound emotion, one which is serene and isn’t restricted to the boundaries of a T20 league. A vestige of hope is perennially fanned, that the game will rise above all odds, no matter how huge the muddle is.

A pair of wickets, a willow and a cherry remains a cricket lover’s dream companions, and will remain the same irrespective of whether it is the IPL or the World Cup that is in the news. He will cherish, love and enjoy a boundary hit or a wicket scalped with the very same ecstasy. The game is like a balm. It oozes vibrancy, forces us to forget the unforgettable with its incomparable beauty.