Victory be unto us!
It was a special day in the history of Indian cricket in the year 2007 after the notorious first round exit from the world cup. A team that was regarded inexperienced and unreliable pulled off an emphatic win in the miniscule version - T20. Someone had this message on Gtalk - that Dr. Kalam's foresight into India becoming a super power in 2020 had been fulfilled. How creative!
The victory was not an ordinary one. It was against a team hyped up by the media and commentators as an arch rival and the Indian team was under more pressure than ever as it had to maintain its victory run against Pakistan at the world cup. A team without the three stalwarts that was not expected to win any of its matches went on to win the rubber by comprehensively defeating teams like England, South Africa, Australia and Pakistan. New Zealand was made to sweat and fortunately, Daniel Vettori was at his consistent best.
All that apart, I had to watch the match at the common room of our hostel. My friends cautioned me to reach the place and book a seat an hour in advance. I thought they were joking and leisurely went at five to five. To my utter anguish, I found one place, not even big enough for my big posterior, close to the television (63" Sony Wega). Cursing my cholestrol, I went and parked my arse there, urging my neighbors to allow me to uncramp. They were obstinate and very soon, I discovered that my discomfort was no exception in the room. The wait was taunting and every second passed like a millenium. I was restless and tried my best to look divert my attention away from the commentators' drivel. The speakers were too powerful and kept knocking my ears and reverberating in my head. Soon, it was time for the toss. It was won by India and the decision to bat first caused an air of loud cheers from the audience in the room.
Nobody was not watching. The game was such. There were ups and downs. Every hit was cheered and every Pakistani was jeered at. India managed a meagre 157. The hopes were still high. Entered the Pakistani batsmen and the air was polluted with bad words. Their entire dynasty was cursed by the noble souls in the audience. I was nervous as is the case when I watch India play and remained less active than the others. Their wickets kepts falling after an initial cameo by Imran Nazir and the crowd in the room went berserk. The match gripped like a python till the last over. Joginder Sharma fortunately ended the onslaught of a highly unfortunate Misbah-ul-Haq, thanks to Harbhajan and Sreesanth and that was enough for the human volcanoes to erupt.
For five minutes thereafter, the noise was uncontrollable. It was not the noise from just our hostel, but from the entire institute. Crackers boomed and their sounds were easily put to shame by the audience's bedlam. For someone like me habituated to watching matches at home and cursed whenever my voice boomed to cheer the players, this was a chance to cut loose. I joined them too, a little shy at first and in full swing later. The kid in me was alive yet again. All bondage was shattered and there was nobody to ask. The only motive was to get one's voice to be heard distinctly above the rest. It lasted only five minutes, but it seemed to me like it had relieved me of all the stress accumulated over the past years of my life. Everyone's joy knew no bounds, and why would it????
What would have happened on the contrary, had India lost? Oh no! I dare not think....
The victory was not an ordinary one. It was against a team hyped up by the media and commentators as an arch rival and the Indian team was under more pressure than ever as it had to maintain its victory run against Pakistan at the world cup. A team without the three stalwarts that was not expected to win any of its matches went on to win the rubber by comprehensively defeating teams like England, South Africa, Australia and Pakistan. New Zealand was made to sweat and fortunately, Daniel Vettori was at his consistent best.
All that apart, I had to watch the match at the common room of our hostel. My friends cautioned me to reach the place and book a seat an hour in advance. I thought they were joking and leisurely went at five to five. To my utter anguish, I found one place, not even big enough for my big posterior, close to the television (63" Sony Wega). Cursing my cholestrol, I went and parked my arse there, urging my neighbors to allow me to uncramp. They were obstinate and very soon, I discovered that my discomfort was no exception in the room. The wait was taunting and every second passed like a millenium. I was restless and tried my best to look divert my attention away from the commentators' drivel. The speakers were too powerful and kept knocking my ears and reverberating in my head. Soon, it was time for the toss. It was won by India and the decision to bat first caused an air of loud cheers from the audience in the room.
Nobody was not watching. The game was such. There were ups and downs. Every hit was cheered and every Pakistani was jeered at. India managed a meagre 157. The hopes were still high. Entered the Pakistani batsmen and the air was polluted with bad words. Their entire dynasty was cursed by the noble souls in the audience. I was nervous as is the case when I watch India play and remained less active than the others. Their wickets kepts falling after an initial cameo by Imran Nazir and the crowd in the room went berserk. The match gripped like a python till the last over. Joginder Sharma fortunately ended the onslaught of a highly unfortunate Misbah-ul-Haq, thanks to Harbhajan and Sreesanth and that was enough for the human volcanoes to erupt.
For five minutes thereafter, the noise was uncontrollable. It was not the noise from just our hostel, but from the entire institute. Crackers boomed and their sounds were easily put to shame by the audience's bedlam. For someone like me habituated to watching matches at home and cursed whenever my voice boomed to cheer the players, this was a chance to cut loose. I joined them too, a little shy at first and in full swing later. The kid in me was alive yet again. All bondage was shattered and there was nobody to ask. The only motive was to get one's voice to be heard distinctly above the rest. It lasted only five minutes, but it seemed to me like it had relieved me of all the stress accumulated over the past years of my life. Everyone's joy knew no bounds, and why would it????
What would have happened on the contrary, had India lost? Oh no! I dare not think....
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