Thursday, July 26, 2007

On the Eve of Battle

Also on MSN India
I don’t like cricket. Oh no.

I love it!

….sang Reggae band 10cc in 1978. This Friday, thousands will be heading for Trent Bridge in Nottingham to watch the India-England test match with this mantra in their heads.

I will join them on the 2nd day, to sit high above the action with my husband and his friends. As always, we will be buffeted by strong winds up there in ‘the heavens’, holding on to each other so we don’t get blown off! It will drizzle through the day, my extremities will freeze, and the damp will find its way into my bones through layers of clothing. The men will fortify themselves with a tad too much of ‘a little something to keep them warm’, whilst I keep the soggy sandwiches company. But at no point will I consider leaving or opt out of our day at ‘the crickitt’ the next year.

This mystifies some of my English friends who are either disenchanted with the game or never got into it. I cannot make them understand without teleporting them to the Eden Gardens in the late Eighties where I watched the elegant Azharuddin score a poetic ton, or into any ordinary Calcutta home in the climactic moments of an Indo-Pak one-dayer, when family and friends (and a few strays from the street) are huddled around the TV, eyes glued to the screen, hearts beating in unison, till the last ball is bowled. Each doing what they fervently believe they need to, to see India to victory-crossing their fingers, praying under their breath, or scrambling at the last minute to tug on those lucky socks! And the jubilation, that feeling of sheer ecstasy when India won; I know it’s been a while but can you remember that charged atmosphere, the surge of people on the streets, the noise of every radio and TV in full blast, and the fireworks that lit up the night sky?

How can I explain to the uninitiated that I love cricket because it connects me to my fellow Indian and allows us to experience a shared high every now and then?

So, march on, Time! On Saturday, I will be there in full regalia, in saffron, white and green bits and bobs cobbled together from the depths of my wardrobe (pity I couldn’t find any face paint). I will nail my colours to the mast and look pityingly upon those who do not feel the same fervour. I will stand up and be counted, despite the vertigo that drawing myself up to my full five feet in those dizzyingly high stands can trigger. I will endure the gimlet eyed scrutiny of overzealous security personnel because I must be there for the boys (no, not my husband and his friends, the Indian Team)!

And then, if it turns out to be a beautiful day when I can watch my favourite sport basking in the mellow English sun, I shall pray for rain!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Far away from home this is exactly what made me look for a place that could show me the world cup India Bangladesh match and return home disappointed in the middle of the night. But I know I will do it again and again.

I love your style of writing.