The twenty-twenty win is still warm in the minds of the cricket-crazy Indian. It is extremely special. The boys played really well. But that does not make it ultra special. Of course, they try to play every game well. But the fact that they played well and won against Pakistan is what cricket fanatics at home are crazy about. For, despite the recreated bonhomie between the two countries, a game is a game and yeah, winning still seems to be everything.

There is something about an India-Pakistan match that converts the cricket-knowing and loving population into patriotic and benevolent countrymen for a period of exactly six hours. That is exactly how long the euphoria lasts. What happens after that? How dare you ask? Where is the water from cauvery? And why did they burn that effigy? In short, we become normal again.

World Cup encounters of the Indian team are sacred in India. I have heard of some offices that announced half day on the day that India lost to the Aussies in Johannesburg. Everyone is praying, wishing, superstition-following on the same dates, hoping that it will add to the chance of bringing the cup home. It is the same when the Team plays against South Africa, West Indies, England and even victories against Bangladesh, Kenya, Netherlands, Somalia, Ethiopia, err…I mean relatively new countries on the block is considered a deserved win.

But what happens if we are playing against Pakistan. Nothing. Fanaticism is excused for one day. It is one day when the crime rates are relatively low. One time when you see you Dad’s face writ with more apprehension than the time he saw your report cars. One time, when transistors are sold free along with milk. And yeah, you join in, dutifully, as always.

Even mothers are interested in the game. They try their best to understand that mysterious game which has kept the house roof up and silent for one day. But after three mocking rebuffs for the questions: “Is this how Tendulkar plays?”, “How can he spit on the ball?” “If he is caught the ball, why is he still lying on the ground for so long?” they decide it is better to simply sit and enjoy the piece and quiet. But yes, some of the mothers of this generation are well-versed in the game. I remember how one of my friend’s mother educated me about ‘the fine leg’ position after I got a glare of the century from my friend for mistaking it for something else.

Ours is a cricket-mad country. Chak de India? Yeah…but only of late…We have been the blue billion for long, gawping at the men in blue, drinking the colas they sell, buying those wondrous shoes they wear and the men religiously use the shaving cream that ‘The Wall’ will sell. But the good thing is that we are also finally warming up to new games and sports.


I remember we had this brat pack when we were very young. We would simply come early to the cricket ground in the colony. Early was around 5 am in the morning. (Mom always mumbled about why I never got up so early for school). And we would proceed to the ground with our ammunition.

Our ammunition was two cricket bats that were freebies along with the Boost one Kilo jar, a tattered tennis ball, three stumps flicked from one of my friend’s brothers and lots of biscuits and water. We never played a lot of proper cricket. But simply having the ground to ourselves while the guys sat fuming was a prize in itself. Until they started laughing at us, that is. But yeah, that was the time when we hit all the fours and sixes, precisely in the direction of the laughing spectators and they went home howling, not with laughter.

More recently, there was a lot of the same happening in the company some time ago. The cricket-playing, I mean. The enthusiastic bharatiya-naaris that we were, My friend and I had signed up to play for an in-house tournament. But the lead-up conversations to the game were priceless.

“Hey , where can we get a cricket ball?”
“Why?”
“We are going to play cricket, that’s why!!”
“Ho ho ho ho….”

“Can I borrow your cricket bat?”
“Ho ho ho ho..”
“What is wrong with you, Santa Claus?”
“Don’t tell me you are taking part in that cricket game…ho ho ho…”

If you heard of any victims of cricket ball and bat assault, I don’t know anything of it. Ho ho ho….

So we went to this humongous ground in the off skirts of Chennai. And we were all apprehensive about winning. Until we started practicing, that is. After that we were sure we should go home. But then why do they make songs like ‘Baar Baar haan..’, ‘Chak de India’ and ‘Haan yehi sapna hai tera…’. Precisely to make you believe you too can be tendulkaris and Dhonis.

The IT life doesn’t quite agree with playing cricket. Halfway through the stretching sessions, we had consumed half of the ground water in that area and were talking about stress. Somehow we got to practice. Then we never stopped. Laughing, that is.

That was the day when Women’s cricket saw many innovations happen. We invented the badminton-bowling, tennis shot, mouse-click bowling and many other things. Err…these were all single-time demonstrations only.

Usually, in a tempo rising match, the sound effects are like this:
Thud thud (bowler running down the crease)
Whack! (ball flying around)
Oooohh…(goes the crowd)

When we played the effects were as follows:
Tik tik (IT Ladies don’t run…they glide)
Click(The sound of the ball brushing past the batswoman’s legs)
Huh? (That was the crowd)
We go: Four, six, out, lbw, oh whatever…(we’re running out of all the cricketing terms)

But yeah, there were some well-versed players in the team and we did manage to score some runs. I guess we played some five overs. We were the first team to get out in the five-five edition of the game. Sob! Let me finish gloating over this fine point in the history of cricket.

And then the next team started to play. We did some Indian team huddle to brace ourselves for whatever was to come. We were pretty sure we could beat them. Arre..we were the mean team. Right at the time when we were about to enter the field, someone calls out from the opposite team,

“Go Jessie, state-level cricket player.”

We turned all possible shades of pale possible in the burning hot sun. But we still believed in the magic of Lagaan and get into the battlefield. First ball is bowled. It is saved by some *ouch* rolling on the ground. Then Jessica came in to bat. But we were completely geared up for this with fire in our bellies (It was not acidity, I believe) and bravery oozing out of our life forms. Then we completely lost it.

Of course, not our senses. We have too little of it to lose it anyway. We lost the ball. Jessica took any ball, thrown from any angly, at any speed for a free flight. The opposite team got so tired of cheering that they began to use the pads and other cricket gear as pillows. Finally, the match was over. And there was a collective sigh. Sigh!

We got back to just watching and cheering cricket. After four bottles of insulin, drips and a week of amrutanjan and Tiger pain balm. If someone asks me now about how I felt the team was playing, I usually divert the topic to Dhoni’s new hairstyle or Yuvi’s awesome new car. Experience does make you more sympathetic! :)