Cricket Fever

If you were hoping for commentary on the world cup you have wide balled into the wrong page. To me maiden is a girl, jaffa is a cake, googly is a typo for google and a silly point is well a silly point.

The only cricket match I watched was the one where the Indian team beat the British team. It was set amidst rousing A R Rahman music, Aamir Khan’s sculpted chest and Ashutosh Gowaariker’s sheer brilliance. Lagaan, if you haven’t watched it already, go for it!  (movie trailer  below...way below).

On March 30^th, 2011 I decided I should do something I haven’t before. Watch a Cricket match the way it is meant to be. I was in the middle of testosterone, second hand cigarette smoke, booze, cacophony. It was the India Pakistan semi finals and what an effect the event had.

India won, and I caught Cricket fever. I mean really FEVER…the one where your temperature goes up.

So here I am huddled up in my quilt, perfect time to take a trip down memory lane. The year was 1996, the bunch of girls were doing anything but study for their board exams.

The nuns in the convent school realized that it would take some serious divine intervention to get us into study mode. So the girls were forced into going for a pilgrimage trip arranged by the school. We were to visit Chidambaram temple and the shrine at Velankani. When it came to exam results, keep all Gods happy.

We girls were on the bus, traversing through Tamil Nadu. It was also the day India was facing Pakisthan. I think it was the quarter finals. Those of you who know what I am speaking about please, please do add on the comment section below. GO ON.

No we dint have iPhones with crickinfo. If you think that makes it primitive, we did not even have an audio system in the rickety bus. The only way to tune in was with ancient technology of portable transistors - radios if you may please.

We had 3 of them, optimum coverage for the front, middle and back seats of the bus. We took turns to hold the radio. We took turns on who got to sit close to the one holding the radio. Each ball India batted for, some chanted SIX, some chanted a more down to earth FOUR. With each ball the screaming grew louder, hoarser. Soon even the shy one joined in. Collective sighs for each ball that went unanswered and silence for each player who got out. Many shed tears as Sachin got out, after all the very cute squeaky Sachin ruled our combined hearts. Other vehicles that passed by, would drive beside our bus to know the scores and watch the spectacle the girls had created,

Many of us stood through the trip. Each time the bus hit the brake (often in India), we flew into the front of the bus.. Each time something good happened in the match we would scream our lungs out, drumming on metal of the bus body. Some turned to prayers. Few broke into dappankuttu dance steps.

While I did not understand what actually went on in the match. The energy the girls had was contagious and I cheered and screamed. I got so carried away screaming that I even cheered when Pakistan hit their first sixer. Some girls did a rugby tackle on the traitor, others screamed “aaaiiyyyee paithyam” (mad moron). I learnt that now I had to reverse the cheering routine, cheer when someone gets out or when the ball does not fetch a run. Curse when they hit a six, four or miss getting out.  Cricket science for dummies!

I think it was Jadega who shined for his batting skills that day. That match I listened to is the only real cricket experience I have. What an effect the event had. I lost my voice for a few days. The nuns at the school were overjoyed for the blessing.

This time I decided to widen the horizon of my cricket experiences. I watched the India Pakistan match on large screen outdoors in the cold.  What an effect the event had. I have the cricket fever.

PS: India went on to win the match both times. The girls did superbly well in the board exams.  
PPS: Pass this onto others with cricket fever
PPPS: Watch my favourite cricket player, Aamir Khan in the  Lagaan Trailer.

Gods Own Lake

But what about the new deadlines? What of my friend visiting me from half way across the globe? What of my roomie’s broken heart?  I can’t just GO. How would the world function without me running the show?

I cancelled my flight ticket to Delhi.

The very next day I was back on the travel site. Ohfuckit! Me going! I bought a  last minute ticket to Delhi.

My wallet groaned in such agony that I failed to notice that the greatest love story of my life had just begun.

Delhi to me is long drives around the Lutens, Raheems Barra Khababs, exotic movies with Prasad, jhola talks with Dunu and Leena, late night tea breaks at AIMS.  As the night grew silent it was time to leave the bustle and plains of Delhi to head for the mountains.

Between tea breaks, bribes and bhangda blasting from the blaring audio system in the Qualis taxi; we covered Ghaziabad, Meerut and Roorkee. Through the cobwebs of sleep I recall passing Haridwar and its crowded ghats of spiritually and shit.

Rishikesh dedicated to the Lord of the Five Senses (Vishnu), found the six of us finally waking up. There was collective stretching, yawning and demands for our quota of

masala chai, paratha and dahi.  We continued our journey up the foothills with glimpses of the Ganges sparkling in the morning sun.

As the hours rolled by the scenes got more picturesque. All of us dropped conversations and stared out at the view. Everyone else was acquainted with the Himalayan foothills ,still they sighed and pointed at views that caught  their fancy – a different colored hill, a sudden bend of  the river, distant rock faces, villagers working in terrace fields, kids running. I, who had never been up here sat wide eyed, open mouthed. Either I was tripping on the Tibetan Chantings or that river was truly holy. I felt lighter, at ease and surprisingly quiet.

The air grew crisper, cleaner, the views more spectacular and vibrant. The mountains loomed larger, the fields greener, the river bluer.

We passed two of the five holy confluences of the Ganges. I watched  Alaknanda and Bhagirati merge to form the Ganges at Devaprayag . Later we then passed the town of Rudraprayag where Mandakini gushed into Alaknanada.

“Are we there yet?” We had already passed a many spots that would have been a perfect break from the city. Powdery river banks that would have been perfect for camping, hills that would have made a memorable trek, remote villages, shepherd huts beside distant meadows, secondary pine forests. We were growing restless and hoping our destination would arrive sooner. “Are we there yet?”

Next pause in our route was Okimatt and finally the village of Sari. After a late lunch we started our 2 hour hike up to the lake where the Gods (Devas) bathed – Deoria Tal.

Deoriya Tal is also the lake where Yudishtra, the eldest of the Pandavas answered the philosophical riddles posed by the spirit of the lake.

After being cooped up in a cab for the better part of the day, the hike up was exhilarating. Green grassy hills bountifully dotted with white flowers, the evening sun, cold breeze from the Himalayas.

Do I write about Deoria Tal or shut up and post some pictures?




The campsite by the lake

 


Deoriya Tal and the Chaukhamba Peak 



Green Green Green

Light green meadow circled the sparkling green lake; a dense green forest circled the light green meadow.  Blue, blue skies up above, mighty white and grey Himalayan peaks. Om Shanti Shanti Shanti while sipping masala chai.

The night sky was even more spectacular.  A band of stars splashed across the blue black sky. Silence. Space. Solitude. I lay beside the lake looking at the sky. I looked at the reflection on the lake. As above, so below.

I thought of Yudishtra standing by the lake, answering the spirit of the lake

“contentment is the greatest of all pleasures..mind is faster than the wind.. heaven resides in truth… health is the greatest blessing…breath is the mantra… mind is the altar…” my eyes grew drowsy.

 

Next day we woke up early and hiked the hills. By noon it was time to reluctantly trek down to Sari. Enroute there there was something for the wild life lovers.

We spotted a King Cobra at the altitude of over 2200 m.  Not sure what it was doing at that height and that temperature. Possibly the snake was thinking the same, what is this girl from Kerala doing all the way up here in the cold.

 

We corkscrewed our way down to the foothills. High on my wish list was a dip in the Ganges.  I got it.

I loved it. Loved it so much that I missed my flight back.

My wallet once again groaned. However this time the groan it was not loud enough to drown the euphoria of the greatest love story. I love Himalayas. Now and Forever.

Some wow pics of Deoriya Tal from flickr