Once Upon a World Cup

There you are. India beat Pakistan in the 2011 Cricket World Cup Semi-Final and will now face the Sri Lankans tomorrow. There. Every Indian is happy. The victory sparked off wild celebrations, even in dry Ahmedabad (Formally dry. Informally, like Sabarmati flows the Scotch).

That morning, before the match had begun, I was thinking, "What if we lose this match now? How would the Indian fans take it? After all, it IS Pakistan. And every news channel is already gung-ho about this match and the political who's who attending". Indeed, this match was seemingly becoming bigger than cricket itself. But then again, aren't all Indo-Pak matches are?

Meanwhile, my mind decided to pull into reverse-gear and arrived at the flashback of the 1999 World Cup. A couple of my cousins and I, ages 9-12, used to gather at this aunt's place to watch the matches. Some Pizza outlet had a scheme running -

"Call 66333444 when a Batsman hits a six. Name the Batsman. First caller wins a Pizza".

This was just brilliant. A free Pizza was like the biggest dream of our life. And we all decided to try our luck at every single match. We had the number on speed-dial and took turns to sit next to the telephone. The number, however, was always "busy". Too young to realize the marketing strategy, we had plenty of hope that one day, we shall get to the Pizza.

India - Sri Lanka Match. 26 May, 1999, Taunton (England).

Without much luck in the previous matches, we were hoping we'd strike Pizza in this one. We had this younger cousin of ours, Puneet, put the number on speed dial and wait for someone to hit a six.

Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid were batting. The signs were ominous. Somebody was going to hit a six. And we had Pizza Puneet ready to make the call. All of 10 and hungry for free Pizza, he waited anxiously, praying. Then came the moment we were all waiting for. Ganguly hit a massive six and we rejoiced. One more shot at the Pizza. Puneet speed-dialed and it was finally ringing at the other end. Someone picked up -

Man - Hello?

Puneet - Hello. Hello (stammering. Still thinking about the Pizza)

Man - Yes?

Puneet - Haan. Hello. Hello? Ganguly ne chakka maara. Ganguly ne chakka maara!! (Ganguly hit a six)

Man - Haan to? Main kya karoon? (So. What am I supposed to do?)

Puneet - Pizza bhejo na. Ganguly ne chakka maara hai. Pizza jeete hum log. Bhejo. (Send the Pizza. Ganguly hit a six. We've won the Pizza.)

Man - Kya? Kaun sa number chaahiye? (What? What number did you dial?)

Puneet -66633444.

Man - Number sahi hai..par kya Pizza? (The number is correct. But what Pizza?)

The moment he said the number we were shouting behind him to put the phone down. Wrong number. Wrong number.
DOUBLE SIX, TRIPLE THREE, TRIPLE FOUR You Idiot.
Not TRIPLE SIX, DOUBLE THREE, TRIPLE FOUR.

A few of us slapped our fore-head as Ganguly hit another six. And THEN we all laughed. Puneet thought we were all going to hit him for the missed chance. When that didn't happen, he joined us to share this moment.

Ganguly went on and hit a few more sixes in that memorable innings where he scored 183. However, thanks to Puneet, we remember the match more for the Pizza rather than the final outcome.

Did we call again? No. Everytime Ganguly hit a six, we joked around as Puneet looked on sheepishly.

Did we get the Pizza? Yes. Not immediately though. And definitely not free.

Thinking about it now, watching cricket for reasons beyond cricket, has always been a way of life. At least for me.

:)

Look who's back!

Hee Hee.

Now, if you thought I forgot all about this blog, wrong you were. Might have been selective amnesia, yes. Might have been sheer boredom, yes. Even so, I have decided to get back to my blogger-ship which got me plenty of wonderful friends and readers alike.

I stopped blogging here because of all the zillion things happening in my life. And this blog was a bitter-sweet reminder of all the memories I had stored, some of which I wanted to forget. I started other blogs but couldn't bring myself to write as regularly as I used to write here. So here I am again. Where I began. To continue where I'd left and maybe start anew.

Hello, my dear blog. I've missed you very much.

P.S: You can keep me blog-rolled now. Hee.

P.P.S: And yeah. You can find this shit on "http://snehriti.in" as well. HeeHee.

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It doesn't make any sense. This life. And the unexpected turns it takes.

I came back home early on Wednesday. So that I can spend time with loved ones while everyone in college wanted me to stay back. Spend time to reconnect with family members where relationships once treasured were souring in the last few years. I loved them all, despite whatever I said to the contrary. Shopping was also big on my list and I was to begin on Saturday.

Saturday. Another day of the week I'm going to come to hate.

I did go shopping. For clothes, as I'd already planned. But not for me. For the last clothes I'd ever buy for her. For the last saree she was ever going to wear and be cremated with. I still cannot believe she's gone.

She came back to me last night. In dreams filled with visuals of all the moments I'd spent with her. Her remarks when I asked her as to how we shared the same birthday: that I was her gift from god when she asked him for a birthday present and for many years I believed that. The one of a kind dal that only she could make, filled with warmth and love that only Mumma or Dadi could match. The hugs that were so natural as a kid which slowly drifted as we grew older. Those days of shopping for brothers on their wedding. Those days that I came back everyday from my work at the CA firm -tired and hungry. That laugh that still echoes.

It still haunts me. The last movie in theatre that we saw together. SAAWARIYA. Around 10 of us. And she was bored from the beginning. "Yeh Hero to ekdum chhokri jaisa lagta hai" , She said. It was fun. She was fun. Despite all my growing tempers all these years against everything, I still loved her. Coz she loved me and I sure did hurt her by openly flaunting my displeasures.

Two weeks ago when I came to know she was bed-ridden, I spoke to her on the phone. She said, "I'll be alright in time for your wedding". I came to meet her on Wednesday, the day I came back to the city. She looked discomforted, but then not such that anyone could imagine she would leave us so suddenly.

While we waited at the hospital and kept hearing about her sinking state, Jolly kept saying, "Keep faith. Mobilize energy. I'm sure if we're positive, she'll be fine soon". We tried. We lost. She died in the same hospital she lost her husband at. And I've lost three loved ones in that building now. I cannot bear to look at it once more.

As we stood there to pay respect to her lifeless body there, I could not hold back the tears I'd been holding all day. The wedding will not be the same without her. When I was younger, she was the only surviving person with whom I'd discussed my wedding and she'd always been the one most excited about it. I'd decided to let her know before I came here that I'd want her to be there, right there with Mummy Papa for all the rituals. With her gone now, I cannot cannot cannot imagine how things would be. How our lives would be. We'll move on in due time. But then, I'm going to regret that last moment that I saw her alive and I didn't hug her even when I really wanted to.

I wish I'd hugged you and told you that I love you and I'm sorry for being so rude in the last few years. I wish...

I'm going to miss you Kanak Bua. I still cannot believe you and I are not going to celebrate our birthday together ever again.