Confessions of a Cricket Fan

My first memory of cricket is from an era when every moving thing on a cricket field were in white and chased a dark dot in a rectangular area. At that time I didn’t under stand why the dark dot or the players never came out of the rectangular box. That was the time when I used to go with my father to a neighbors home to watch cricket on TV. The ball was not of the color red because the television those days did not know any color other than black and white. The neighbors’ television happened to be the only one in the village and was my first window to the world outside. It was the medium through which I was introduced to Hanuman’s super power, Arjun’s skill with the bow and an arrow, Amitabh Bacchhan and the film "Sholay". Those days newspapers were for the elite and a transistor radio was a prized possession.I was young and my world was a lot smaller.

After watching cricket, and without understanding what 22 people are doing, I used to come back home spread the mat I used to study on, imagine it to be the pitch and practice shadow batting and bowling without any bat / ball (15 years later I learned the phrase “shadow batting”) with two (unhappy) spectators in my elder sister and mother. The seed that was planted inside me 20 years ago has grown into a tree.

I first got a bat, handmade from a single piece of wood at my uncles, at the age of seven or eight. Possessing a bat was an advantage I abused because no game was played in my absence and more often than not I chose the place I bat. One day my bat developed a crack after a senior knocked a hard ball with my bat. At that time he was the person I hated most. The next few days were spent arranging cycle tubes and a blade for bandaging my most valuable asset. I also strapped the handle with the rubber to have a better grip with it to counter my sweaty palm. As I grew up, cricket was the only game I knew, played and thought worth playing.

In class four, we shifted home to a new place. Suddenly my every other neighbor had a TV set and the local news paper was readily available in the paan shop near my home. With the change in place, I lost the advantage of having a cricket bat as the place had a proper cricket team who played in hard balls. Young boys of my age were happy playing with partially broken bats and plastic balls. We would accompany seniors to the cricket matches to carry the kit and fetch the balls when ever it crossed the boundary. We were proud of it. When I learned to listen to the cricket commentary and read the paragraphs under the photos of a batsman / bowler in oriya newspaper’s last page, “Tendulkar” happened to be the most frequently used word. Although I hardly understood the English commentary, I could easily guess that they are talking of someone named “Tendulkar”. With time I learned to identify the players with their batting styles. Till then every one having a pair of pads and a helmet looked similar. Whenever the batsman ducked and adjusted his abdominal guard before taking strike, it brought cheers and a sparkle in my eyes. But at the same time it was accompanied by a sense of fear also because Indian Team’s fortunes were depended on how well Tendulkar plays the very next delivery. Every boundary Sachin scored made me feel that there is no better place on earth other then the small piece of area I occupied in front of a TV. I had an neighbor who had a curly hairstyle like Tendulkar’s and was of similar height and I boasted among my friends that I lived next door to him (he has changed his hair style since but height are still comparable).

Just before the world cup of 1996, Television made debut in our home in the form of a black and white portable Onida TV. That day I felt that I have fulfilled almost all perquisite of a cricket fan. Since then my mood in a match day fluctuated with the performance of the Indian cricket team. A bad performance from the team in losing cause had the ability to prevent me from taking my dinner. The gloominess would persists until I criticized the players in the after match discussion next day in school. At the same time an Indian win was considered and celebrated as a personal achievement. Sri Lankans were villain when India lost the semifinal to Sri Lanka in 1996 and I seriously thought Azharuddin was bribed to choose bowling after he won the toss. Seven months later Shahid Afridi was my hero when he blazed away to the fastest ODI century in Nairobi because he did that against the Lankans.

I have always felt a sense of personal satisfaction in the achievements of the Indian players especially that of Tendulkar, Dravid, Ganguly, Kumble and Laxman. These were the players I grew up watching and provided me a sense of pride for being an Indian. With age I matured and had better control over emotions. From a jingoistic cricket fan I was transformed to an admirer of performance. I rejoiced when Steve Waugh hit that brilliant 120 not out against South Africa in 1999 World Cup, hated Allan Donald for that run out and wanted to catch a cricket ball like Mark Waugh did to get rid of the Pakistani Opener Wasti in the Final.

In 1999, I was introduced to the word “Physics” and was immediately impressed when the subject had answers to the questions cricket had thrown at me. Soon I fell in love with the subject because it explained almost everything happening around me. I learned why Rahul Dravid keeps his bottom hand loose when defending a bouncer and why Wasim Akram wanted the ball to shine only on one side of the seam. “Bails” falling towards the batsman when he is clean bowled off a fast bowler was also explained. I understood why the fielder at point should be the best among the eleven and why he should stand squarer on a slow pitch. I understood why a fielder pulls his hands back while taking a catch. With more grasp on the English language I was exposed to the vast knowledge of the cricket commentators.

In the 2000s, Australia was the second “Pakistan” for me. Nothing was sweeter than an Australian defeat. But I admired and most of the time envied their dedication and commitment on the field. Under the leadership of Steve Waugh, a man when batting was like a monk, they were the team to beat. Laxman’s and Dravid’s innings in the March of 2001 imbibed self confidence in the Indian team and which I feel was the turning point for Indian cricket. The scar of that partnership and the new found belongingness of the Indian Team in the biggest stage were too much of a pressure for the Australians. They crumbled and wilted. Ironically Steve Waugh, who was considered one of the mentally toughest cricketer, was out in one innings “handling the ball”. Waugh was a cricketer I admired most. When he walked into the shades at the SCG in 2004 after being caught by Sachin off Kumble in his final test the cricket fan inside me was sad not because he had saved the test for the Aussies with a fighting half century that was filled with all the characteristics of the man himself but because I would miss him at short cover.

While the fan inside me improved day by day the player inside me made zero progress. That’s because I was destined to be a Chemical Engineer in an Oil Refinery but primarily because improving as a player needed much more effort than sitting in front of a TV.

The Indian team under Saurav Gangly reached the finals in 2003 World Cup and was beaten comprehensively by the brilliance of Ricky Ponting. We lost not because we lacked skill, but because we were in awe that we were playing a WC final and probably we were a bit surprised too.

8 years and 1 day later on 24^th March 2011, when the ball raced past the cover fielder in Motera, the ghosts of 2003 were gone. Although the Semifinal vs Pakistan was not of the same class as that of the 1996 Quarter Final or the Centurion game in 2003 but the results was what every Indian wanted. The inspired performance of the bowlers and fielders revived the believe that we can win.

On 2^nd April 2011 1430 hrs onwards, the “fan who loves good cricket” inside me will die a brief death and a selfish jingoistic Indian will cheer for the men in blue. I hope Sachin once again make the small area infront of my TV (this time it’s a color one) the best place on earth.

Do watch the match closely because some day you will proudly tell your grandchild that you watched the match live when India won 2011 World Cup Cricket.

(That doesn’t mean that Indian Cricket will not have any more moment of glory after 2^nd April 2011 and till the time your grand child asks you “How did India win the World Cup 2011?”)

-rabindra-

If you can't avoid it... then enjoy it

Being 26 years (and few months) old, with a job, without any chance/aim of higher studies and without a girlfriend would make you face the following question from almost every alternate person you will meet “ Shaadi Kab kar raha he?”. A girlfriend wouldn’t have made any difference, but would have made your life easier as you have to face one less question (that of “Koi Ladki pasand aayi?”) I guess the 1^st question will be second in the List of “Most Frequently Asked Question”, second only to the question inquiring whether I belong to Gujrat. The frequency of the above questions increases dramatically, when your close friends around you take the plunge into domesticity. Different people inquire differently with the same curiosity. Some people directly ask, while others tend to blend a little bit of suspense in the conversation and you have to guess the question. Like “When is the party?” or “When are we getting an invitation card?” And although I understand that they are alluding to an event w.r.t my marital status (or the change of it), I try to give a blank expression which is similar to one on a kid’s face if he is asked a tough question out of the scope of the syllabus . After people explain what they were refereeing to, I try to utter a “Don’t know” or a “Kar lenge” or try to change the topic by asking them something equally uncomfortable.

There is another group of people who express their disbelief when I tell them that I am single. There immediate response is a big “Why”. I wonder whether I have done a blunder by staying unmarried for 26 years (and of course… few months). Some others asks “Tera Shaadi kyun nehi ho raha he?” as if I have been trying unsuccessfully since ages to get married.

People also have started to link everything to my marriage. The other day when I was wondering in shorts and a T-shirt, one of the elder gentlemen expressed his surprise at my insensitivity to the climate and fore told that I would feel the cold once I get married, which may infer that we come to our senses only after marriage. I have failed to correlate the two discreet events. If any one has an explanation suggests me. Also my daily jogging in the stadium has been referred, falsely, as a part of my preparation for marriage.

Even destiny is having fun. Few days while I was reading TOI’s crest edition, I came across an article “Mera No. kab ayega” …ironically about people facing similar predicaments. If marriages are made in heaven, then my request to God would be to give the date of marriage as an addendum to our date of birth and spare us all these interrogations. But that would take the charm out of life. Till then, as someone wise had told....if you can't avoid it, then enjoy it....

The Summers I Lived.

There is a story where an old man asks his daughter-in-laws about which season they liked most. The youngest and also the smartest of them had given a politically correct answer that every season is equally good and has its own place in the meteorological cycle. If the same question were asked to me few years ago (around 15 to be more accurate) my answer would have been “summer”. The choice has been greatly influenced by the fact that the most part of the whole season starting from mid-March to end June is the time when our schools were closed or we used to have morning sessions only i.e from 7.00 AM to 11.00 AM. That means less time to study and more time for fun. During morning sessions of our schools we would eagerly wait for the closing bells to ring and then throwing the bags at home would straight away run to the nearest mango yard. The activity of falling mangoes with stones required great aim, stamina, strength and of course “stones”, which would become scarce as the season progresses. At times we would ferry stones bound in our towels from the near by river bed to meet the demand supply gap. As long as the stones last or till some elder scold us we would continue to aim at the mangoes, most of the times without success. But as we grew older our strike rate had improved significantly. After reaching the river the dive into the cold and deep water used to be the most satisfying moment of the whole day. All the children of the village would play variety of games inside deep water. The adroit swimmer of course would win all the time. Back from the river, it would be time for lunch which was followed by an afternoon siesta (a much longer version of siesta to be accurate). The evenings were spent playing cricket / marbles (and a variety of games whose names I can’t remember). The next day the same routine gets repeated. After the schools declared summers holiday it would be all fun for whole two months. I used to spend most part of our holidays at our uncles. We had neither TV nor electricity for any sort of entertainment. The hot afternoons were spent reading books and playing indoor games. In the night, all the children would sleep in the open courtyard surrounded by elders. The grandmothers used to entertain (and scare) us with a variety of stories, and we didn’t know when we would sleep under the open sky with the cool summer breeze around. Although the stories were repeated every year, they were never a bit less fascinating. On other days we would count stars, locate the pole star and some time follow the moving stars (I didn’t know that time that they are called satellites) till they disappear. Sometimes before sleep, I and my elder sister would count no of vehicles passing through a bridge nearby our home. We would own one of the directions and the number of vehicles passing from ones’ direction to other’s used to be the score. The game used to continue till one of us fall asleep, and in most of the case it was me. We used have early mornings because of two major reasons. First, because the days were longer and hence the sun used to rise early (still rises early, only difference is we don’t witness it these days), second reason was more of a gourmet’s desire. In early morning, we would go to the mango yard to collect ripe fallen mangoes from the previous night. The earlier you go the fuller your bags would be from the tastier trees. In the afternoon we used have competitions among children as well as adults to finish off the mangoes collected. It was great fun. Summers also meant for us to have spare time to read. We used buy a variety of story books and magazines for the whole two months. I am still reaping the benefits from the habit of reading.

As I have grown older the summer also seems to have become hotter. There are neither schools nor holidays. The only place I find a mango is at the vegetable shops that too artificially ripen by Acetylene. The cold river stream has been replaced by tap water. I don’t play with friends. Air conditioned rooms have replaced the cool open air beds. I haven’t seen the pole star and I haven’t followed a moving star since ages. And also grand ma’s stories these days don’t scare me to sleep anymore.

I wish if I could live those days again…..

(And in the meantime Delhi Daredevils have kept themselves alive in IPL-3 by beating the Chennai Super Kings).

rabindra
16th April 2010, 0030 Hours.

#$%&!?

Every now and then whenever you think life is perfect, it springs up a new surprise. And suddenly your perfect world comes crashing down and your mind gets infected with all the absurd thoughts that it could ever think. I don’t know if it happens with me or everyone else but I imagine that the worst thing will happen. But thankfully most of the times even if things could go wrong they generally don’t.

I have realized how things change quickly and how even after an eternity they remain the same. What do you think about the changes, bad or good, that happen in our lives? Are they consequences of our past actions (may be inactions) or are merely destiny? I think, we all are somehow responsible for our present conditions. But when the conditions are bad, we blame it on destiny or bad luck. Seriously, how many times have you thanked destiny, rather than yourself, for your success??? Destiny or luck can place you at the right place at the right time. But achieving your goal has to be your initiative.

Coming back to the surprises life throws at us, don’t you think if every thing were perfect life would be boring? If everything happened in a predestined way then human race wouldn’t have been as developed a species as it. Along with the surprises we have the required skill to deal with them.

The point of discussing all these things is that, I have been in these types of circumstances many times in my life. At the face of adversity, life seemed less colorful and the world a bitter place to live. Abilities have been questioned and shortcomings have been discovered. Choices made in the past, have tormented. Mind has been filled with doubts and hopelessness. But that is when I have remembered a character in “Shawsank’s Redemption” where he thinks that hope is probably the best thing in the world. My thoughts haven't been different before. And this time also its the same.

Goverdhan Parikrama

“Enervating” is an adjective, which I think, will aptly describe my parikrama around the Goverdhan Hill on the eve of Janmastami. I have trekked 36 kms in 30 hrs (to Gomukh from Gangotri & back), cycled 22kms in 40 minutes (ring road of Rourkela) but never ever I experienced this type of physical exhaustion like I did yesterday. But I must say it was worth going. When Datta asked me on Saturday afternoon if I were interested in coming for Parikrama, “Yes” was my immediate reply. I was more excited about the adventure part rather than the spiritual part. Although the old cliché says that “Two is a company and three is a crowd” I asked Praveen if wanted to come. Surprisingly he replied in the affirmative. So the regular Sunday Cricket match of our department was cancelled with immediate effect and was communicated to concerned persons. After dinner, we started out around 8.30pm from Refinery Township. Datta was in his own bike while I rode pillion to Praveen’s. It was the very first time I was visiting Goverdhan. Looking at the traffic on the link road to Goverdhan from NH-2, we could guess that it will be crowded night. We started our parikrama with a visit to the Girraj Temple. The parikrama path starts just in front of this temple. The path was full of devotees. Some were walking, some were rolling on the ground (People say it takes months to complete the 21 km stretch like this.) Along the road you will find a lot of beggars asking you for money, food and what ever you could afford to give. There are also a lot of small shops along the roads selling coins (People may not use 25 paise coins any where else but here it sells like hot cake.) Along the path you will meet a wide variety of people some very old and some very young all walking with the same aim to complete the parikrama. Those who couldn’t walk used rickshaw trolleys for their journey. Couples were walking hand in hand (hopefully promising each other their company till death). There are a number of tea stalls along the path to provide refreshments if necessary. Tired people rest and some even manage to sleep on the chairs. The whole parikrama path is in the shape of the number 8. The first circle is of the circumference 12kms and second one is about 9kms.We completed the first 12kms quiet easily in 2.5hrs without any stoppages. The first circle will bring you back to Goverdhan town, where you started. We decided to take a break get refreshed and start again. By then aching on feet and leg had already started (it has been years I took a walk on naked feet). After taking some tasteless tea and a break of 45 minutes we decided to start again. The moment I stood up I knew that the next 9kms will not be easy. It was already 1 o’clock in the early hours of Sunday. Anyhow we managed to start. Dutta was faster then I and Praveen. After walking for another 1 hours we couldn’t take it anymore. We took another brief rest near a temple just before Radhakund. I felt like sleeping on the floor of the temple. The empty trolleys and vehicle were very tempting. I even suggested to Praveen that we should ride back to Goverdhan on one of the tractors. He said we should finish by walking only. 15-20 minutes later we started again. On the way we luckily found a Paanwala, chewed a few pieces of paan to keep us engaged along the way. After another 1 hour we rested again in Radhakund. Walking after that caused unbearable pain. But I realized that devotees who were chanting God’s name some how generated more enthusiasm to walk and bear the pain. Anyhow we managed to complete the parikarma. It ended with a Darshan to a temple (not the one where we started). There was a huge pool of water. Devotees took bath before visiting the temple. After that we rested in Goverdhan for about an hour before starting for Mathura at around 5 AM. The ride back to Mathura was horrible. I almost slept riding pillion to Dutta. All along the way he kept waking me up from my sleep. When we reached Mathura people had already started coming for Janmastami. Back in my room I slept like a log, till a phone call from a friend woke me up.

In retrospection I found the whole Parikrama had a striking similarity with our lives. We all live our lives with different goals but same destination. We meet different types of people along the way, some stays with us forever, some meet us for a few moment. But each of them leaves behind their impressions on our lives. The small shops along the path selling refreshments are like short term success. It surely gives us relief and happiness but that is not our goals. We have to keep on working hard to achieve our ultimate goals. The pains we bear are like difficulties in our lives. The certainly will cause uneasiness but it will make us stronger. The trolleys pulling people around the parikrama path, may be analogous to the shortcuts we take in lives to avoid problems. They will no doubt get things done easier but ultimately you miss the experience which could make you a richer person. Moreover chanting Almighty’s name eases your pain, same is the case in our lives. It gives you immense strength to carry on.

Ironically, at the end of the whole affair, I enjoyed the spiritual part more than the adventure part.

Happy Janmasthami.

rabindra-

24-Aug-2008
Note: Goverdhan is the mythological hill that lord Krishna carried on his finger tip to save Mathura from incessant rain.