I
|
f you ask me what is
more contagious than even many deadly epidemics, pat I would say, it is
nothing but cricket. Yes, the cricket
fever runs high among Indians round the year. There can not be any other
cohesive force stronger than cricket which binds all irrespective of age, sex and religion.
Despite
the cricket fever catching the entire country now and then, I am proud (should
I say ashamed?) to mention that I am immune to such a pandemic. Indeed, a strange thing to happen for a daughter
of a great cricket buff. My dad eats cricket, breaths cricket, talks cricket
and sleeps cricket.
Cricket
addict dad
My
father’s addiction is such that he would watch a cricket match on television
for the nth time without his interest level declining an inch from the first
time viewing. During the fools’ game the idiot box is his sole property. Poor
kids have to miss their daily dose of cartoons.
An otherwise silent dad becomes quite vocal when it comes to cricket.
Strange
is the fan world !
And the
similar hypes in other households amuse me than the game itself. I have a
friend whose father has different chairs for different shots. He would sit in
the “sixer chair” or the “boundary chair” whenever the game assumes a tardy
pace.
Whenever
there is a match, an acquaintance of mine wakes up early in the morning, cooks,
finishes all the household chores and installs herself before the TV on time.
The children are left to manage on their own until the game gets over. Whenever
there is no hope left for India to win, hoping against hope, the devout lady
starts chanting the names of all Gods.
The name of all players of foreign team dances on the tongue of my
illiterate neighbour, of course, with elan.
I have an uncle who has this strange habit of asking
‘Is Tendulkar out?’ The moment he asks, the player or whoever he had enquired
about for that matter has to be out! So his children never allow him to open
his mouth during the match.
Another
unique characteristic of my father is that he doesn’t lose his composure while
watching cricket. During a match, when the chance of India winning looked
bleak, cursing the players everybody went to bed except my father. Next morning
the smile on his face was telling everything. India had won! All at home were
cursing themselves for not being a witness to the decisive moment.
Once in
the office when all were watching TV, my boss mistook my disinterest for my
love for duty. As everyone was watching the tournament with excitement, my boss
took pity on me and offered his transistor. Without knowing what to do, I joined
my colleagues, albeit passively.
Jingoism
takes over
Patriotism raises to
jingoistic levels during tournaments.
The fans invent creative ways to display their love towards the nation.
There would be special prayers, special haircuts, unique make ups, songs and
what not.
And
our news-hungry dime a dozen news channels, in fact, fuel this frenzy. They
bring the slices of these novel ways of expressing solidarity into your drawing
room.
During
tournaments streets wear almost a deserted look. Those out on roads huddle
themselves in front of shops and other commercial establishments to get a glimpse
of the performance of their heroes. The fact that productivity comes down in
offices remains an open secret.
If one
goes out, be it market, office, school or road the discussion revolves around
cricket. All talks lead to cricket. Even strangers turn buddies discussing
cricket. If you admit that you have no interest in cricket, you are considered
an alien creature on this earth and will certainly receive strange glances like
me.
Though the country loath the
relics of the colonial age, the game somehow succeeded in enchanting Indians
eternally. Perhaps, all other games blur
in the glare of the cricket.
