Sardarji and his son

Is watching a match in the stadium really an experience better than watching it at home on television?

We had gone to watch the match against Sri Lanka that was played in Cuttack. We took our seats in the stands by 12.00 and the match was set to begin around 2.00 PM.

The waiting for the match can be quite frustrating, and people were kind of getting restless, waiting for the match to start. We guys had taken chart paper and sketch pens and were ready with our placards (“Dhoni, We miss you”, “Sorry, boss. I have fever”, “Plant Trees”).

A Sardar and his son were in the row in front of us. The son was young, must be 10 years old, around class 4. Around the age when you collect posters and cards, with nothing much more on your mind. They were one of the first persons to arrive and you could see that he was really interested in cricket.

The thing is, the day your luck is fucked, it is fucked. You can’t do much about it.

When the match was about to begin, some policemen came and started making people settle down. There was this couple of guys. One of them was dark and bulky, and looked like the Before of a “Before After’ in a Zambian weight-loss infomercial. The other guy was lanky. These guys had been standing for quite sometime and finally the policeman found an empty chair. The one in front of Sardarji’s son. But there is only one chair? No problemo!

The hefty guy, a veritable Duryodhan, offered his friend to sit on his lap. And After readily obliged.

And just like that, the poor boy’s vision was completely blocked. For the entire match! But ‘Before After’ hardly noticed. When one thigh ached, Before would make After stand up briefly, and then sit in on his other thigh. The poor boy wore a smug the entire match.

As it is, Oriya people are rather interesting. You will never find us sitting idle, ideating, thinking of world peace, that kind of crap. There is always something or the other going on in our minds.

To add to Sardarji & Son’s misery, all of a sudden a man hops in front of them, takes out his mobile phone and brings it in front of Sardarji’s face.

We were sitting behind them so we couldn’t see their expressions, but I am sure it must have been one of pure horror. And he takes a picture of Sardarji. He then looked at his phone, put it in his pocket and smiled.

“I have a friend. In Punjab. Vijay Singh. Bilkul aap ke jaisa dikhta hai.” The day your luck is screwed, it is screwed.

Now, gradually the match progressed. India was well on its way to a victory. When India was fielding, you should have seen the crowd’s behaviour. Sachin was fielding in the boundary near us, and the adulation had to be seen to be believed. Every time he so much as turned his head, the entire gallery would stand up and scream out his name. However, there was a Jekyl-Hyde kind of transformation when the Sri Lankan team came to field. Some of them had come up with innovative one-liners and would scream it out. One went,

“Malinga… tujhe ch*denga” (in the tune of the usual “India….India…”). Someone in the galleries above us must have gotten a little bored, so he decided to start throwing things at the people sitting below. It began in the form of paper rockets.

We looked up, pointed at it and laughed. After a while, a banana peel comes flying and landed on the head of one of the persons in the stands. Not funny. He throws it back and with a detailed chronology of the person’s ancestors.

What ensued next can only be called a water pouch/samosa/banana peel/biriyani packet slinging duel between the stands and the galleries. After a while, we saw that the same thing was going on in the other galleries as well.

It looked like a scene from those black and white comedy movies where people start hurling cakes at each other’s faces. Only, it wasn’t funny. By the time the innings reached the 40th over, the people who had come with families had left. The last I saw Sardarji and his son; they were getting up from their chairs. The war ensued till the end of the match and by the time it was over, the entire stand was empty but for a handful of us.

Coming back to the question I asked in the beginning. If a ten year old was asked the same question, he would say it is much better to sit at home, and enjoy the match with smoking hot parathas and tandoori chicken.