JOIN USWhile watching a cricket match between India and Pakistan the other day, I could not help recalling the first T20 World Cup India won in South Africa in 2007, trouncing Pakistan. It was a victory nearly as exciting as the one we had in the Kargil war. And, it was an unarmed victory, unlike the Kargil one, if you discount the bats and the ball.
Cricket buffs still recollect the finals with great relish. My son and I were enjoying the telecast of that fateful final, glued to the box up to the hilt, when my wife barged into the room, demanding the remote. “I have a serial to watch now,” she said. “No way,” my son and I chorused, with our eyes riveted on the telly. Convinced that we would not oblige, she sat down beside us, resigning herself to the inevitable. Not being a cricket enthusiast, she showered a stream of invective on the game. Mercifully, she did so only during the commercial breaks.
“In the good old days when there was no TV, dad retreated to the balcony with a transistor, avidly listening to the commentary, without bothering anyone uninterested in this crazy game. Now, with TV’s domineering presence in the house, you can’t escape the game,” she bemoaned.
Team India’s triumph saw houses being flooded with phone calls. Ours was no exception. Our neighbour was the first caller. We congratulated one another. He said rather metaphorically, “Look, my heart has just returned to its place after finding itself in my mouth throughout the game.” The next caller was also a neighbour — a newly married, charming Maharashtrian girl. There was great urgency in her tone. She asked for my wife even without uttering a single word about the Indian victory or exchanging pleasantries with me. I felt let down, and my ego was hurt because she had overlooked not only the team, but also me.
Once the call was over, my wife explained that the girl wanted to surprise her Keralite husband with a Malayali sweet to celebrate the victory. He was on his way home after watching the match at his office. Though she knew the recipe, a doubt cropped up in her mind in the midst of cooking, so she hurriedly sought my wife’s advice. The urgency of the situation had warranted her talking to my wife promptly. She didn’t mean to ignore me. I was relieved!
Many calls came later, the last one from my verbose cousin in Chennai. He started giving me a recitation of the game, as if I was away from planet Earth during the match! He seemed to be in a mood to talk ad infinitum.
But to my relief, I overheard his thrifty wife, no doubt concerned about the prospect of getting scary phone bills, ask him to hang up, “As if your company will pay the bills!” she chided him.