The wait for the game was over and the day had come; We left offices half day, we stocked beer and snacks, we kept our facebook and twitter pages open and kept family and friends on sms for wishes and analyses. Then it began- we watched Sehwag blast away, Sachin unusually relive chance after chance, and Raina play yet another do or die; Wahab Riaz was inspiring, continuing the legacy of Paki fast bowling- a true spectacle. Then started the defense play, Dhoni’s true strength- but cldn’t help witness Zaheer slip a bit, Bhajji struggle for the ‘atleast one wicket’, yet Nehra bowl like a blessed bird rising from the criticism that almost buried him, and Munaf showing an uncanny grit for consistency with pace and length.
The game was alright- not entirely gripping, not a spectacular stroke play or fast chase, but a tightly held contest. The presentation ceremony and the speeches were an apt culmination of the decency that was shown on ground for such a high-profile match. Almost every other celebrity of the nation was at the stadium, while on the other side of tv we wondered about what could have gone into the security arrangements.
Come 45th over, I could hear the fire crackers off the street; Come 49th they were louder and come the victory it was an orchestra. Firecrackers, whistles, horns, screams, and “Bharat maata ki jai”. I was enthralled for being lucky to experience it, this is new every time it happens; but I had no idea of what lay ahead. A couple of friends came home and we set out on the roads to see if there was anything happening on the rallying front. A couple of bikes waving flags passed by, but not until we hit a junction where I was baffled by the size of the crowd I saw. A huge mob stood at a junction dancing and drumming; and holding every passer by to dance a step or two with them before they let them pass. It appeared obstructive in the beginning but it began to sink in. They held a bus to a halt, the bus driver aptly responded with swinging his arms to signal a dance; but it wasn’t enough, he had to get down and dance with them and then they let the bus go. This repeated with every vehicle, unless there was a lady in it. If it were there, they let it pass just with a naara, “Bharat maata ki jai”, to which the ladies didn’t mind waving their hands and smiling without being scared. By then the police had come, nothing they could or wanted to do; but just request the crowd to not obstruct the traffic. The crowd obliged and began to simmer down but its size began to deplete; no noise no point crowding culture.
But we couldn’t simmer down, we wanted more. Then we decided to explore the best place for it- the MG road. Dropped off our bikes at home, took the car and hit the road. The occasional flags waving, the drunk guy screaming from his bike, and the police patrol vehicle beaming. Not until we reached M G Road did I realize that this is the most manic, most participated rally I’ve ever been in; infact even ever seen.
The shirt less guy standing on his bike and swirling his tee atop his head, the innumerous flags waving, the bike stunts, the uncontrolled hand-shakes and high-fives with strangers, the “jeet gaya bhai jeet gaya”, and the occasional abuse phrase on Pakistan. The silent cops, without the lathis, were diligently just directing the mania instead of trying to control it. A manic girl was beating the bottles in her hand against each other accompanied with a head bang; looked like she had lost it but it didn’t matter, she was just too jubilant. Still the innumerous flags were waving at different heights and bikes wheeling within a huddle. A guy taking procession of Sachin’s poster with title, “Born to Win”. I wasn’t sure if the need to celebrate used the victory as a reason or if it was vice versa, but an emotional expression of this magnitude has very less space for reason.
This absolutely, positively happens only in India.
These are experiences everyone on the road that night had, in their own realm of perceptions and in their own celebration of emotions। But I had to give to it that this is the biggest mania I’ve seen on streets in all my life and I was totally glad about being a part of it। How much does cricket mean to this nation; a question asked too many times and simply concluded that it’s, ‘A little too much’. And India-Pak matches mark the epitome of sport's significance to life. But like my friend remarked, "The passions are alive, the celebrations are vibrant, the competitiveness has sharpened but the hatred has reduced". Probably it's the best metamorphosis that could happen.
India has exported religions to the east over centuries of past but had imported its biggest modern religion from the west and made it its own.
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