Finding a lost cricket ball

I still recall our disappointment when we lost a ball during a match

It was a bright Sunday morning as I was walking around our apartment complex wearing my mask and keeping my social distance.

“Uncle, uncle, ball please!” — I heard young voices pleading, from beyond the compound wall of our apartment complex. Some children from the neighbourhood had been playing tennis-ball cricket on the adjacent playground, and a local Chris Gayle had smashed the ball for a huge Six that eventually landed inside our compound.

I later came to know that he was declared “out” because of his indiscretion, but that did not help their cause. A few of the walkers, including me, looked around for the ball, but could not find it. On my second round of walking, the scene had not changed — anxious young faces, curious onlookers and a stern-looking security guard unwilling to help the kids.

My mind travelled back 65 years to the time when I had my own cricket team, as a proud 11-year-old.

I was brought up by a doting maternal grandmother in Chennai, while my parents lived in Madurai. I had the luxury of a big private playground in front of my home. My grandmother permitted me to buy a full cricket kit. I was allowed to buy an imported cricket scorebook as well. All these possessions enabled me to become the de-facto owner and captain of a cricket team that called itself the ‘Netaji Cricket Club’.

Our team generally consisted of boys from my school. I used to keep wickets. We had regular tennis-ball cricket matches with other teams. An adjacent vacant house served as our pavilion. From its balcony, we cheered our batsmen.

Our ground, although reasonably large, had one major disadvantage. An 'uppish’ cover drive invariably resulted in the ball disappearing through an opening in the wall of an adjacent shop. The burly shop-owner would invariably refuse to return the ball, although sometimes after buying some items from his shop, I would get back three or four balls. I can still distinctly recall the disappointment that went through us when we lost a ball during an interesting match.

So during the third round of my walk, I decided to help the boys out. It took a long, long time before I could locate it. The young gully cricketers were delighted and relieved. My first throw across the compound wall did not succeed. On my second throw, I could hear the loud cheers from the other side of the wall. They found their ball and I found my happiness.