Blame

it
W
HEN I entered my house, I saw a strange looking person occupying my favourite chair and drinking tea in my personal mug. Now I am a very possessive person and everybody including our maid knew this. I sat opposite the visitor. It was she; long pleated hair and a colourful dress like the red Indians. She looked educated. I tried hard but could not place her. I am Cassandra... from Africa. Opening her purse in a jiffy she took out her visiting card and gave it to me in the true Japanese fashion. It was the most colourful card I had ever seen. You seemed to have liked my card, she said. Yes, I liked it. I said honestly. I like that you liked it. In fact I love people like you-; frank and sincere... she had just finished her sentence and in walked my wife with glasses of mango juice. I knew my wife very well. She certainly did not miss Miss Cassandras last dialogue but ignoring it she just smiled and offered one glass to the lady out of courtesy, I believe, because the lady was still sipping tea from my mug. Keeping aside the mug and gleefully accepting the juice, Cassandra in her kinky but matter of fact voice said, I like it, I like it, specially the yellow of it. Giving me the other glass and occupying the seat that was

Cassandra almost bowled me, but without waiting for my reaction she continued, ... your friend told me that presently, your cricket team is not doing well. In fact it is in the doldrums having lost nine or ten finals in a row.
Prakash Pathre

on Blue

equidistant between the lady and me, my wife said, Miss Cassandra has been waiting for you dear. She is a colour therapist from Africa. Of course, I had read about colour therapy but I did not remember having known or met anybody like this lady before. We have never met. But I know your cricketer friend whose inlaws have settled in Africa. He gave me your reference. All right, what can I do for you? I looked at her card once more. You know, I want to help your National cricket team... Miss Cassandra almost bowled me, but without waiting for my reaction she continued, ... your friend told me that presently your cricket team is not doing well. In fact it is in doldrums having lost nine or ten finals in a row. I knew this sort of therapy was normally used on the individuals. This could perhaps the first time that the entire team was going to get cured. Is it possible? Because a cricket team consists of eleven on the field and few more in the pavilion. I provided the vital information and slowly sat back. Your husband is very smart Madame, said Cassandra to my wife. But Sir, she continued, I specialise in treating a group rather than an individual. Very easy you know. Common symptoms and common

treatment. My wife and I nodded like obedient school kids. Now tell me what is the colour of your National cricket team. Cassandra asked us. Blue, both of us said in unison. I thought so, she said confidently. Thought so! , We jointly expressed surprise. Because your teams pathetic performance indicates that the real culprit is that mild colour

and not the players. Pray, tell me is there any other colour along with this? she queried. Yellow! we (my wife and I) almost did high-five. It had to be, she said pensively. But yellow is supposed to be good. You too vouchsafed it while drinking the juice. I politely reminded her. I must say your husband is a keen observer. My wife smiled mischievously. You are right Sir. Yellow on

its own or with green is very good but does not remain that good in the company of sky blue which is milder in nature. Your teams dismal performance suggests that they must have a primary sky blue and yellow in between. Very true, Madame. I said with awe. You see the combination of colours makes a lot of difference. There is big difference between a yellow with sky blue and a yellow with green or say red. In the first example it dampens the spirits of the wearer and in the second the combination becomes deadly and lifts the sagging spirits of the team Cassandra explained. Oh, thats why our team has been suffering. And like a nut I was blaming the poor form of our players. Brava. I said. Right. Now look at the South African and Australian dress. Yellow plus green and vice versa. Both are top teams. And then there is Pakistan to challenge these two. All these three teams have green and yellow in their dress. You are right but how can we now change the colour code? I said with some apprehension.

You can. In Africa one local football team was not doing well. It had a lousy (excuse me) colour combo. Just like your team. I advised them a change. They applied to the authorities with my certificate attached to their application. Now the bottom most team with the new combo is one of the contenders. She looked at my wife and said, Excuse me Madame, but may I get one more cup of tea with those floating green mint leaves. So in your opinion with a change in colour combo the Indian team would do well. I expressed a slight doubt. Do well! It would do very well. Miss Cassandra confidently continued, Throw that doubt away and have faith in me and my therapy and see the difference. Looking at her closely this time I said, You should meet our cricket authorities and get that drab and lousy attire of our national cricketers changed to something enterprising so that India may start winning all its one-day matches. I was almost in patriotic trance. But then, what about the test matches: the real test? My wife, who had just stepped in with the tray of green tea, asked. Why? Cassandra asked with a strange look. Because they are played only in White, coolly said my wife.