<p>The news of Kho Kho gaining global recognition brought back a flood of memories. I had passionately played the game for six years during my school and college days, 45 years ago. Recently, some of my school teammates met at my house, and our conversation over lunch was dominated by reminiscences of our Kho Kho days.</p>.<p>We laughed about how we would often skip Moral Science and Drawing classes, citing practice sessions for upcoming tournaments as an excuse. We reminisced about celebrating our victories with masala dosa and coffee and giggled about the enthusiastic cheers from spectators for their favourite players. Our final year in school was particularly memorable, as we won all the tournaments that year. Our headmistress was so pleased with us that she arranged for a group photo of the victorious team that was published in Deccan Herald and Prajavani way back in 1975! We still possess a copy of it!</p>.<p class="bodytext">Our success story repeated itself with our college team as well.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Coincidentally, just two days after our reunion, the sports page of Deccan Herald had an announcement about the first-ever World Cup Kho Kho tournament for men and women, to be held in Delhi and telecast live on sports channels. As I promptly shared the news with my friends, the excitement grew. We began gathering and exchanging updates about the tournament, participating countries, match schedules, and more on our WhatsApp group. Once the tournament began, our mobile keypads were tirelessly abuzz with discussions—how each team played, the latest scores, our favourite players, new rules that were introduced, and how the game had evolved over the past 40 years. We were all but on the field, dodging and chasing!</p>.<p class="bodytext">We felt proud watching Indian men and women excel, winning all their matches. Since the game itself originated here, the familiarity with the game and its intricacies helped them reach the finals easily. One of my friends suggested that we gather to watch the finals, and some of us did, witnessing that great moment when Indian men and women clinched gold and lifted the inaugural World Cup! </p>.<p class="bodytext">Meanwhile, my husband, who had been watching the matches with me, had a thrilling experience learning the intricacies of the game. He was impressed by the speed and toughness of Kho Kho! The fact that I was a Kho Kho player representing school, college, and university teams and played at the state level had stayed only as that—a fact—both at my parents’ and husband’s places. But it wasn’t until now that he truly appreciated the game.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As he proudly told our daughters about his newfound understanding of Kho Kho, I couldn’t help but smile. Better late than never, I suppose!</p>
<p>The news of Kho Kho gaining global recognition brought back a flood of memories. I had passionately played the game for six years during my school and college days, 45 years ago. Recently, some of my school teammates met at my house, and our conversation over lunch was dominated by reminiscences of our Kho Kho days.</p>.<p>We laughed about how we would often skip Moral Science and Drawing classes, citing practice sessions for upcoming tournaments as an excuse. We reminisced about celebrating our victories with masala dosa and coffee and giggled about the enthusiastic cheers from spectators for their favourite players. Our final year in school was particularly memorable, as we won all the tournaments that year. Our headmistress was so pleased with us that she arranged for a group photo of the victorious team that was published in Deccan Herald and Prajavani way back in 1975! We still possess a copy of it!</p>.<p class="bodytext">Our success story repeated itself with our college team as well.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Coincidentally, just two days after our reunion, the sports page of Deccan Herald had an announcement about the first-ever World Cup Kho Kho tournament for men and women, to be held in Delhi and telecast live on sports channels. As I promptly shared the news with my friends, the excitement grew. We began gathering and exchanging updates about the tournament, participating countries, match schedules, and more on our WhatsApp group. Once the tournament began, our mobile keypads were tirelessly abuzz with discussions—how each team played, the latest scores, our favourite players, new rules that were introduced, and how the game had evolved over the past 40 years. We were all but on the field, dodging and chasing!</p>.<p class="bodytext">We felt proud watching Indian men and women excel, winning all their matches. Since the game itself originated here, the familiarity with the game and its intricacies helped them reach the finals easily. One of my friends suggested that we gather to watch the finals, and some of us did, witnessing that great moment when Indian men and women clinched gold and lifted the inaugural World Cup! </p>.<p class="bodytext">Meanwhile, my husband, who had been watching the matches with me, had a thrilling experience learning the intricacies of the game. He was impressed by the speed and toughness of Kho Kho! The fact that I was a Kho Kho player representing school, college, and university teams and played at the state level had stayed only as that—a fact—both at my parents’ and husband’s places. But it wasn’t until now that he truly appreciated the game.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As he proudly told our daughters about his newfound understanding of Kho Kho, I couldn’t help but smile. Better late than never, I suppose!</p>
