With love, Minnows!

Dear ICC,

First of all, I am very happy to know that you were kind enough to admit my family into your monetarily rich party featuring your more glitzy friends.

I am also sad that you are planning to reduce your party size by doing away with us for the next party. I thought you were delighted to have us at your parties every time.

Do you remember, sir? We used to be with you right from your first party, the one you hosted in England in 1975. My uncle from Africa used to tell glorious tales about it to me. He enjoyed it a lot. He told me how he got to meet so many big names of cricket. he only heard of many of them, didn't see them until he could face them just 4 yards away. He used to say that he didn't have TV sets in those days, and only a few radio sets in the whole city to know about this game he had inherited from the friendly people who came to his home. Only one of his kids has attended your party since.

You wouldn't even give us a smile, but we took the invitation itself as a great honour. In 1983, my Lankan aunt danced better than your Kiwi friend, and that was the first time you took a photograph with us. Our family was very excited. We thought we had attained the pinnacle of joy that day. But one day 13 years later, she won the dance competition on your floor, and you adopted her into your family. We were so happy that some of our kids will grow in those posh households of yours.

But, most of us still live in the ignored land.



We didn't complain much, sir, to be honest. We were just happy enough that atleast one of us came to the grand event, so that he or she would return home and tell us about it. It was like being the first boy in the family to graduate, or earn in a big city!

In 1992, we actually played the party-game better than the big man of the house, The Lord of Marylbone. We used to spend years and years just looking at him play it like there was no other to match him. Of course, his two favourite mates, one with a strong accent and one who liked Caribbean music played it like him. The three of them were our idols.

By 1996, the African uncle's son became good at dancing and beat our aunt (who now ate in your house). She was proud of us that day too! You had also invited more from our family, so we could have fun amongst ourselves, when you had a high-profile buffet in your "big-wigs only" mansion. We enjoyed playing in the mud, but we always wondered what was inside. Our aunt was in there, but she never came out. I think she became a much better dancer than we ever knew. Money can buy many things they say. We were happy that she was the best dancer on her own floor.

My cousin from Zimbabwe had also improved on his singing skills for the 1999 party. My cousins Scotland (Scottie) and Kenya (Keens) took along my baby sister from Bangladesh to the game. We were so glad to watch on the public TV that cuz' Zimmy was allowed to have dinner with all the sizzling stars after the evening party ended! And sister Bangu came home all smiles, after her last drawing fetched her a big bar of chocolate. Do you realise how much that means to us? We pasted all of Bangu's drawings all around our house, and everybody would tell her that she was going to scale new heights. Little Bangu could just smile and eat her chocolate bar.

In 2003, you allowed Namibs and Keens to host our own party game. We all came to their beautiful houses, and we also saw Keens beat our aunt again. She wasn't that happy, but I'm sure she was proud of us. We were proud of us, for sure. Little Bangu couldn't draw better than uncle Canny from Canada, but we gave her another bag of candies so she would not lose hope on herself. She just nodded and went home with the candybag, promised to come up with better art work next time. You see, we all loved what we did. You took the centre-stage, and we danced around you. You came to our home, and sometimes you didn't even come to our place though we invited you. We had to come to your dinner to discuss about it, but we were had to leave before the dessert, since we haven't had much of them, and didn't know how to handle the spoon on the ice-cream. We spilled the soda, and we had to leave.



You invited more of us to Caribbean uncle's yacht. We were so happy, we came there in different colours from around the globe. We brought in new tricks. We were outplayed in many competitions in the party by your glorious friends, but we had our moments. You remember my baby nephew from Bermuda playing slug fest when the Indian musician was singing? We had fun, they all had fun. And remember Bangu? She had grown into a beautiful artist, and could also sing better than your Indian girl-friend. She had so much ego that she went home early. I heard her friends started teasing her very much. We didn't mean to hurt her, we just wanted to show her Bangu's multi-talented personality. Bangu's modern-art were better than Zuid Avrica's, you know? Zuid was surprised his painting got ruined. My sister-in-law, Irine came in too. She too sang beautifully, she is good at country and folk. But you would never know that, as you lived in pop and rock and whatever you call it...rap? Your Pakistani star actually slipped a tone while trying a duet-duel with her.

You see, we always had a nice thing or two to do in all your parties. Even in this year's party, we have been at or around the lime-light, but you treat us like your slaves. We have to carry your party caps to the ball-room. You can't have the party if we don't help you decorate it. You say we don't know table manners, while you never care to teach us. You say we don't know how to party, while you never let us party with you in the any other place. We can't learn from just one party in 4 years, sir. We can watch you swing and sizzle, but when we try, we don't look that cool. We know it, but we can't help it, since you always shun us after the party hours.

And because your girl friend got angry last time, you scheduled your party such that we can't enter into your swimming pool and enjoy it for a little longer time. Sorry sir, if you are trying to indirectly say that you don't like us at the back of your photograph, we are very hurt. We do look beautiful, we don't use make-up. But, you fail to see the point. You rich people have a little too much of pride to stoop an inch below your glasses of suspect and look at our beauty.

By closing the doors on us for the next party, what do you think I will tell my children about all these fun? That we had a good time watching you guys light the crackers, and that our children may not even get the privilege to see them?

What we had held as a dream is diminishing every day, and maybe some day our kids will call it a fairy tale, too much to be real.

Sir, we enjoyed whatever you allowed us, and we will make sure that we will eat your cake in this party, and make a point or two before we leave for good.

Yours lovingly (we still love you)

Mr. Minnow & family