Jhakas | Sanjay Jha
At the time of writing, people in offices are moving around with restrained enthusiasm, their natural spontaneity tempered with growing nervousness as the clock ticks unrelentingly ahead to India’s pre-appointed tryst with cricketing destiny tonight.
Last evening, while pulling my vehicle out of a myriad mess of a car-park, all I could hear was an animated conversation between four drivers of varying proportions and different accents who were busily occupied discussing India’s league match against Sri Lanka at such high decibel levels, the loudspeaker would have been a superfluous instrument. Continue reading below
Frankly , the enthused lot cared two hoots for complex net run-rate calculations, Duckworth Lewis ( which , trust me, even most international coaches dread as we did calculus problems in school ), pitch conditions, team composition, or game strategy. For the small semi-circle of immigrant work-men accustomed to a life behind the steering wheel, in the final analysis cricket is not such sophisticated mumbo-jumbo after all. No need to create this new statistical animal called cricket analysts; their summary conclusion; “ Bhai saab, India zaroor jitega. Hum to kahte hai ki World Cup jeet ke wapas aayeya”( India will certainly win. In fact, we believe India will return with the World Cup) !
Take a walk, smooth talking cricket pundits who in any case have become past-masters now in explaining their failed hypotheses under the ostensible garb of “ glorious uncertainties of the game”. I guess that’s the magic, method and mayhem in the madness that seizes this insane nation when the Men in Blue hit the green turf. Tonight, of course, it will reach it’s ultimate crescendo.
To the philosophically prone, the tragic slaughter of coach Bob Woolmer will cast a long, oppressive black shadow over the titanic contests which must be fought all the way to Barbados on April 28th 2007. But while life may be a cruel leveler, it strangely enough occasionally provides us with that soft buffer which can insouciantly absorb the rudest punch. Which is why the India-Sri Lanka clash which is likely to pervade millions of homes from Dombivili to Dhanbad is perhaps the most suitable diversion from the macabre goings-on in Pegasus Hotel. Life must invariably move ahead, and cricket must be played. It helps. The bookie may make the billions in cash, but the world lives another day to watch Sachin Tendulkar hit the straight drive, to make the runs.
India face a stark hard reality; at the end of 7 ½ hours, either they will be soon preparing for the acid test in the forthcoming Super Eight league or else return to familiar shores and smells of Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport to watch their own acting pyrotechnics endorsing labels on the small box. And ruminate over what-could-have-been?
The truth is that even if they were not pushed into this precipitous position of near-exit and extinction , most of us would have backed Rahul Dravid’s Dadas to master Muttiah Murlitharan’s deceptive off-spins, or tame, tempt and tamper with Sanath Jayasuria’s trademark belligerence. Sure, the humongous pressure looms large on India, but doesn’t the lion king fight best when faced with the prospect of being caged and cabined? I remember an ad that fascinated me as a kid and I hope it applies to the Indian team at Trinidad today; “ Above the noise of trumpet blowers comes the silent roar of a born winner”.
Spare a thought for the boys who know, feel and understand what over a billion people will experience tonight as they walk onto the filed. Every run saved by a diving Yuvraj Singh, every dot ball bowled by a fiery Zaheer Khan, every run scored by a resolute Virendra Sehwag will be a photo-frame. A moment of magical mystery. Defying barriers, overcoming differences, burying hatchets, and blurring the lines between the haves in skyscraper apartments and those who barely have a triangle meal a day. In a great number of ways, tonight, the country will be one. Families and homes will be partially dysfunctional, late-night offices will throb with volatile emotions, people in transit on flights will desperately wait for a quick landing, and children will be delighted to eat in front of their LCDs. Because for a change even their parents will be joining in the carnival. And those drivers will not need a loudspeaker.
For a pulsating few hours, Nandigram, Nithari and Narendra Modi can wait. It’s time to say Namastey India.
