A Gentleman's Game! (?)

“PHAAAATTT…” the sound rang across the alley…it was the faded yellow ball hitting against the wood; a silence fell over everyone around. The one who had just delivered the ball was eyeing the flight of the ball over everyone’s head, the others went still, none spoke. It was like they were dreading the next moment. Within seconds came the ominous sound of the ball smacking the glass “CraaaaaaCKK”…
“Bhaaaaag!!!” some one yelled, it was the signal everyone was waiting for, before they ran for their lives!
And there I was…Seconds before, mighty pleased with myself for having successfully hit the ball at the first go but now left abandoned in that alley, lugging on to the heavy bat, with a Kapil Dev sticker on it.

I was 7 years old then (& not that tall), it had taken me ages to convince all the Bhaiyaas around to give me one chance to bat. I had been fielding for months and I had started hating it eventually. One shot they had promised. But, I had ruined it now. I stood there stranded, tears rolling down my cheeks! Dejected and dreading the possibilities of not being permitted to play cricket ever again!

It all began with the thud of the ball hitting hard against the bat; that I fell in love with. It was “Sound of Music” to my ears. It took days before my curiosity got the better of me; it was judgment day of sorts before I mustered courage to speak for my rights. So there I was standing square on my two lil’ feet trying desperately to pass on the idea to the chap everyone called “DADA”, that I wanted to play with them! I was dismissed of course. I was told to go play with my dolls, which was sad really, for all of them (the dolls) were already beheaded and castaway, to show my loyalty to the game! But I did not lose faith. I did not budge, with some good amount of pestering and wheedling, I pretty soon found myself privy to the fascinating sport!

Looking back from the first time I held the handle of the bat tightly in my bare palms, to the time when I was introduced to the game, when all the men; young and old, from the neighborhood used to gather around one television and hover around it for hours together. I used to peer over them to catch a glimpse of what was going on. The men in white, running and lunging around, the commentary in a foreign language, all that never made any sense to me, till the day I actually saw the game live in action in my alleyway. I was awed!

It wasn’t long before that I joined the huddle of men in front of the TV during the matches. It was the end of an era, where cricket dominated over cartoons
Over the years of my obsession, from Imran Khan, Wasim Akram, Steve Waugh, Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly to MSD. I have rooted for all the wrong teams, gotten sniggered at for being on the losing side, taken the brunt of supporting the Pakistani team instead of showing some patriotic fervor! I have had field days laughing at the losing side, I have stuck to the chair like glue, in fear of getting someone out, by moving an inch, I have prayed to all the gods I could think of before a match. I have witnessed stupendous victories amongst hundreds and thousands of frenzied fans, I have hooted, screamed, sledged, placed bets, gave opinion on cricketers, as if I were a Team Selector on the Cricket Board, argued over advantages of Ganguly as a captain…guess I have come miles from where I began!

It has been 17 years or so since I have been following the game. I have graduated from fighting for my right to bat first, to being a full-fledged “gully cricketer”. From the TV set in my living room back in Calcutta to the TV set at the local coffee shop in Pune… Cricket has always given me plenty to talk, crib about and bond over. I have formed acquaintances, long lasting friendships, made enemies. It ceased being, yet another sport for me.
One thing remains unchanged though, whenever I bring up the topic of cricket first; in a conversation or rant about some intricacy (beyond sixes and fours) or mention my love of playing the game, “Men” in general look taken aback and baffled and the women think I’m generally demented. More so, “The Look” is worth a hundred bucks, when I differentiate a Yorker from a Googly!
No I’m not a kurta clad, bespectacled feminist fighting for rights of women in cricket or campaigning for abolishment of the much used title “Gentleman’s Game” as being a sexist designation. It’s just that I cannot help but notice the number of men who take it for granted that the woman is in all probability watching a cricket match for some unintelligible reason, like the cuteness factor of a certain Afridi or Dravid!
It’s hilarious actually, when you do find such people who watch a match for such obscure reasons, but I would only like to point out that there are a good many men as there are women in that category!
Alas! I’m 23 today and I still am required to prove my allegiance to the game!
It is indeed a cruel world!
...& as the wise men of the world say, “Form is temporary… Class is permanent”… I say, “Acknowledgment is temporary… Skepticism is permanent”…!!!