Hyderabad, November 5th, 2009

For some curious reason, the early hour on that Deccan winter day, felt much colder than the more northern sub-Himalayan city of Delhi I hailed from. It was not supposed to be so, given the consistently temperate nature of the plateau's climate. Perhaps the open green spaces with water bodies embedded in them were responsible for the refreshing coolness, perhaps the city on the plateau wasn't yet completely built up and allowed zephyrs to coast gently across...bracingly: we only conjecture as to the causes, but the inlaid warm frisson of good-natured mischievous excitement coursing through the nip was unmistakable and goosepimpling.

People were up and about long before the sun had risen to herald the day; kinsmen and kidred who had converged into the welcoming homes of resident kinfolk for this important day were milling about in different quarters completing their daily ablutions and dressing up to greet what promised to be an eventful and long day. In that simultaneous orderly chaos throbbing inside the different residences, heavenly odors of freshly brewed engine-starting southern coffee and breakfast, of freshly bathed bodies and new clothes, mingled with the syntheticity of branded perfumes, colognes and aftershaves. Bonhomie dominated, and overcame any inconvenience for all kinsfolk who had converged for an important and happy cause. Bright faces shone in the friendly oneness forged in the melting pot of common cause, across the intricate stiles and fencings which dot this countryside.

By the time the sun had just inched up above the horizon in the cleft between the highways leading to Warangal and Vijayawada, vehicles bearing the kinsmen had set out and already focalized at a point there, to disgorge their riders who then proceeded to initiate the various procedures and rituals leading upto the momentous and auspicious muhurtam later that night.

Things got underway, and one by one, gobbled through the preparatory procedures. By the time afternoon arrived, there was a slight flagging of energy and things meandered into the anticipated evening. The lights switched on, brightening up all within their purview. Enthusiasm rebounded, freshness bounced back again, the home run had begun.

Thavil drumbeats reverberated through the evening air. Nadaswarams pealed auspicious raagas into everyone's ears. Videographers inched forward to grab the once-in-a-lifetime action being enacted in the centre. Necks craned this way and that way in gentle rhythmic sways like long-necked birds in courtship moves, so as not to miss a moment of the enthralling action in the middle...under a floral canopy on the stage.

The team from Visakhapatnam was led by a veteran Ranji battler of yore for the Andhra Pradesh team. He was followed by a column of kinfolk who played the game as it should be. The other side was also replete with serious enthusiasts of the game. Blackberrys pinged websites, mobiles ringtoned strategically placed relatives at the venue for updates, which were then quickly spread around to team members of either side.

Males, females, young and old...all were gripped by the ensuing drama. Things began to head to a raucous climax of drumbeats, nadaswarams, chants, prayers and blessings...excitement long ceased to be suppressed, formalities succumbed, the countdown began to the ultimate. The night sky bore a large fuzzy dome of neon glow slightly to the north-east. One could hear the roars of thousands urging on....praying, blessing, celebrating from the same direction.

And then the muhurtham was past, the sacred thread was tied, a new bond was formed, life was rejuvenated once again in a new direction. The thavils and nadaswarams fell silent. People leaned back in a strange kind of exhaustion - happy and sad at the same time - for having witnessed something wonderfully regenerative and yet having to cope with a loss....twice over.


My niece was married away that evening in Hyderabad, the first among the next generation, to a fine young man who harbours a healthy interest in playing and watching cricket as and when the opportunity presents itself to him.

The thing was everybody in the marriage hall kept up with Sachin Tendulkar battling away hard for India just a couple of kilometres away. The groom found a moment or two to keep himself informed as well.

Cricinfo was pinged hard and repeatedly by numerous Blackberrys and like gadgets. Kinsmen strategically allowed to populate the stadium while the wedding was on, were kept hooked onto the mobile lines right through the 175 rebellious runs scored by a 37 year old young man called Sachin Tendulkar.

The coordination and cooperation among so many would have made Alexander proud. The convergence of so many people through, not one, but two common threads was uplifting. The childlike interactions between the branches of the family tree growing old and gnarly was doubly satisfying and energizing.

I did not see one of the memorable innings played that evening in Hyderabad, but it was a night I'll always remember.

A Note to BCCI Big Bosses

Oh, by the way, a note to our good friend BCCI in passing: a cricket madman like me was unable to watch the match for some reason or the other. The nature of responsibility was such that I missed the replays as well. I caught some haphazhard snatches of recordings of the live telecast on a relative's DVD player. Now today, I come back to Delhi all eager to enjoy short clips of highlights of the innings on You Tube and find that BCCI has had them withdrawn!

My Dear BCCI, it is exactly stuff like this...these kinds of innings....you must ensure every home in India has a copy of whether they like to have it or not, either free or at a very nominal cost. This is what you need to inspire the next generation of players, the next hordes of loyal supporters of the game, and warm the cockles of fellow Indians who have religiously supported your efforts despite the many hardshipes you make them face in the process. Grow up....Sachin and his deeds belongs to all of us like Mahatma Gandhi and his deeds. Stop acting like those who are auctioning away the Mahatma's legacy to the highest bidder acquired by stealth or legally. You must take pride in ensuring the world watches Sachin and innings like this from him.

I doubt if this brief note in pasing would have any effect, but I am an eternal optimist, my dear BCCI.

Thanks

Soulberry