I never call myself a cricket fan. Never have I understood the game in its full technicalities. I don’t remember names of players except if I have a crush on them. I don’t even care about the turn or the dead-ness of the pitch.
I lived outside India for 2 years sans cricket. I tried my hand at a lot of sports I did not fully understand or know before. We would sometimes watch the NBA or super bowl with friends. People of different nationalities trying to make home out of another country by accepting its culture. (I don’t consider such people being show offs, I think trying to adapt to a countries’ sports is very open minded) Something always felt amiss. Not in terms of differences but the feeling of belonging.
Now I have come back and trying to find my place here. I miss life back there. I sometimes feel like living in a cultural exile. You know trying to be at two places at the same time ?
Having been exposed to cricket from a very early age, thanks to overenthusiastic father and brother, who can watch any cricket game, old or live, and give you gyaan; not knowing cricket as I stated earlier, seems ridiculous. Moreover I did not turn out to be a devout India (or any team) supporter, in terms of knowledge, stats or talk. I have always felt left out somehow.
Today as the big India-Australia game unfolded, the three of us, I, pregnant friend and the baby (he/she) in her belly, shifted the entire house in front of the television set. Lunch happened way before 2.30 pm as we wanted to finish every related chore and be at peace while watching the match. Both of us on previous occasions have generously cursed the length of the game FYI. Today was going to be different, may be. We talked cricket, we discussed powerplays, the team selection, technicalities, statistics, the pitch, the crowd. In short we had opinion about every move of the Indian team. Unknowingly we were the very epitome of cricket fan-dom the country is proud of and famous for.
When things were not looking so bright, after the Gambhir run out, I even indulged in some small talk with the tv. With chants of ‘Steady Bhuvan. Steady’ and ‘I will not move to pee until India reaches 200’ the match progressed. In some other world the twitter time line was bursting with emotions. Every second of it. I would hastily snatch away the laptop from the friend who was working on a remote desktop and see how people were coping with the pressure.
And then the realization dawned. Even though I know not a single player’s bio or the real stuff, the very obligation to have an opinion about cricket, without being asked for, makes me belong. To the cricketing nation. Sachin Tendulkar must be the very basic first reason. So much that, I indulge in bargains with the cricket god, fix matches sitting at home by offering the players a share of my awesome lauki (kaddu/doodhi) paratha, swear and curse (inside my head), gasp, do a little jig and duck when the watchman notices me, …
The brother calls exactly 5 seconds after Yuvraj has hit a boundary. We congratulate each other (quite the filmy ones) and cut the call. A part of the self imposed (?) cultural exile seems to loosen itself. I feel like finding a connecting thread.
~nightflier
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