I wasn’t really interested this time around. Not after a heart-breaking last year I had. But I watched. How could I not? Mid-Summer, blazing sun, boring Sundays. Where else could we go? What else could we watch. The lure of cool interiors, the inviting cold beer, big screen T.Vs, (a very good looking Sameer Kochhar ) and we were hooked. And we started watching IPL season 2. I hadn’t meant to, but thank god I did, for my little city won to erase the ignominy of last year.
I am a very pessimistic, superstitious person when it comes to cricket. I am such a stereotype when it comes to cricket. For the Border-Gavaskar 2000-2001 Chennai match, I stayed in my bedroom and tried to study political science. Everytime I emerged, Indian wickets fell. My sis and Mom banished me and I stayed in praying cos we were winning against Australia and it all depended on me! I still believe that.
Last Sunday the Deccan Chargers Played Royal Challengers. My sister, my friends and I hung out on 10d Bar stools and kept our fingers crossed and prayed. I prayed with my head bowed and hands clasped and looked up to see the owner of the franchisee in the same stance. The owner and the fan, were we praying for different ends? Money v/s Simple Victory? Did it matter? Weren’t we all participating in a religious ritual/warfare here? Do the advertisements reduce cricket’s sanctity? Not for me. And not for the hyderabadis at 10 d that Sunday. Or for the 4 bangaloreans.