Birth of a new
religion
It all started in the temples of modern
capitalism – German department stores. There were patterned spheres of all
sizes on display everywhere. There were vests of all colours. There were wigs
in the same colours. It was a celebration of purchasing power – and none of the
equipment it was spent on was of any practical use.
But that was
only the tip of the iceberg, for there were other goods that were not displayed
until the right moment – and the moment came when the twelve stadia specially
outfitted by the Germans for the World Cup opened. In streamed the spectators.
Some wore the outfits that were on sale in stores. Some had little chits stuck
on their cheeks in the colours of their national flags. Some had painted their
entire faces. Some had covered their torsos with torrid graffiti. Some wore
technicolour manes in the manner of Red Indians. Some wore little.
They sat down
and began ritual chants. The more primitive ones simply chanted one sacred word
like ‘Nippon! Nippon!’ Some chants were to the point, like ‘Grandpa! What’s the
score? Whoe-oh-oh!’ Some were replete with subtle irony, like ‘Can you hear the
English sing? I can’t hear a f…g thing.’ Some were relevant. For instance, when
the noise got too much, some chanted, ‘Stick ur trumpet, stick ur trumpet,
stick ur trumpet, up ur arse.’ Some were too advanced for my ears.
If you looked
closely, you would have noticed that there were usually followers of two cults
mixed together. They were distinguished by their body paints – yellow and green
for Brazil, red and white for England, blue for Italy, etc. As far as I could
make out, the colours were not edible – at any rate, no one tried to lick off
someone else’s paint. By and large, the cultists displayed admirable religious
tolerance. The English are reputed to be bloodthirsty fanatics, but they went
home early after their gods were defeated.
After the gods
entered the field, their worshippers changed the ritual. Some swayed one way
and another like a cornfield – obviously a fertility cult.
And the gods!
Obviously, fashions have changed since gods sat on thrones and solemnly blessed
or cursed their worshippers as required. These gods ran up and down the field.
Sometimes they all ran in one direction, sometimes in the other – obviously
signifying the battle of good and evil. Evil was represented by a sphere which
every god tried to kick. Since there was only one sphere and many gods, they
had to run a lot to get anywhere near it. And when they did, they fought like devils
to keep it. They kept dancing around it and got in the way of anyone trying to
get close to it. Obviously these were young gods who had not learnt godly
behaviour fully. So there was a divine elder who corrected them from time to
time. He had a whistle so piercing that the gods immediately dropped whatever
nasty things they were doing and froze when they heard it. Then the elder gave
the ball to whoever was his current favourite, who could play with it for a few
seconds. But soon he had to throw it, and mayhem broke out once more. Shirts
were pulled, shins were kicked, and bodies writhed on the ground. It is no
longer like in the old religions, where gods were supposed to set a model for
their human followers. Now they set examples that no human could follow without
being thrown into a prison.
The sphere had a
hard time being kicked around all the time, so a god took pity on it once in a
while. He took it to a corner and let it rest for a few seconds before kicking
it. But this momentary deprivation was so trying for the other gods that they
got into a huddle and panted like dogs waiting for their master to throw a
stick. When it was thrown – I mean kicked – they went berserk. They tried to
catch it with their heads, which seemed a strange thing to do, since both the
sphere and their heads were spherical and the two were quickly parted.
Sometimes two gods, both trying to catch the ball, banged their heads and fell
unconscious on the ground.
The best thing
for the sphere would have been to rest inside one of the capacious see-through tents
erected at two ends. But there was deep discord amongst the gods on the
desirability of this eventuality. A half of them tried desperately to send the
sphere into one home, the other half the other. A truly awesome god guarded
each tent and tried his best to keep the sphere out. The energetic contentions
amongst the gods ensured that the sphere never got a quiet moment.
These nightly
ceremonies went on for weeks. At their end, on the basis of some myterious
rules, one team of gods was declared victorious, and awarded a curiously shaped
rod. They called it the cup, but it could not have held even a pea. To me, it
looked like a phallic symbol. It was taken to the Circus Maximus in Rome, which
played host to a similar cult 2000 years ago. At that time, beastly sports were
a part of the cult. Men were set to fight against ferocious animals,
charioteers drove horses round and round, and followers of Christian and other
cults were ceremonially killed. The new cult is not so bloodthirsty. The
violence is confined to the games; and no arms are allowed. Even a venerable
god was expelled from the field because he used his formidable head as a
battering ram against an abusive little god.
At the final
ceremony, there were bright lights and cacophony, but no violence. Everyone
waited, shouting and drinking, swaying and swooning for hours. Then the winning
team of gods arrived. They had brought along the so-called cup they had won.
The young gods really thought it was a cup, they kept trying to drink from it.
But it was a you-know-what, so they only managed to give it rather wet kisses.
But their followers were in a trance by now; every kiss gave them unmentionable
thrills, and sent them into a frenzy. They danced into the early hours of the
morning. So ended the strangest religious festival I have seen.
Although this
new religion is not everyone’s cup of tea, I think it is an improvement on the
western people’s earlier religion. For till recently they were worshippers of
Mammon. They accumulated money, and buried it in impressive buildings called
banks. They worked themselves to death collecting and burying money. The new
cult retains vestiges of the old one. For instance, when they are not
participating in the international rites that take place every four years, the
gods attach themselves to temples scattered all over. There are frequent
auctions in which these gods sell themselves to the temples; with the money
they live in great luxury. It will be interesting to see how the old money cult
transforms itself into the new football cult. Meanwhile, the spectacle will go
on, to the amusement of us incurable agnostics.
