Even though you're watching him walk from behind a cubed-shaped wired enclosure, you can't help feel a little tingly, a little light-headed
Even though you're watching him walk from behind a cubed-shaped wired enclosure, you can't help feel a little tingly, a little light-headed. From where you stand, he looks tiny, you can fit his frame between your thumb and index finger, but he's unmistakable. The chanting begins, "Sachiiin, Sachiiin (clap, clap, clap)", leading up to applause as he reaches the crease and his bat hits out at the first run with a 'thwack'. You can settle down in your seat now; he's started his innings.
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Watching a cricket match live is dangerously addictive. The first few times, you'd file in queue, excited to be watching something you always saw in the little box of your TV, "in the flesh". It doesn't prepare you though for the added exhilaration of 'sharing' the experience with the crowds u2014as India hammered away, chasing a well-fed score South Africa set during a one-dayer, it barely mattered that your view was eaten up by the stadium's gigantic pillar. With the stadium packed, you twisted and switched places with a friend, jumping in glee as the runs totalled up.
The buzz in your head during a concert is perhaps the only other feeling that comes close. On a special pass, we peeked around backstage before the concert began, glancing around the band's restrooms.
Then the wait begins... for the band to appear. When Mick Jagger screams, "Mumbai, are you ready?!!" you yell hysterically until your vocal chords go on vacation. The music comes at you, nonstop. One of the world's biggest and oldest bands is a Rolling Stones' throw away. When you're not cheering, you're swinging around, 'I Can't Get No Satisfaction.' Six years later, your chest puffs up a bit, you feel a little special every time you see someone wear a Forty Licks T-shirt with a giant tongue lolling out of a mouth. "Were you there for the concert? I was."
Days after you catch a live match or a concert, you feel the buzz. You have the stories. You remember the after-party okay, maybe you weren't in the same room as the band or the team, but you partied after.
And while watching a match that isn't half-exciting, you get caught on national television by your uncle, following the same series, ball for ball. Brabourne stadium is largely empty, you and two friends have bunked college and are sitting around, licking ice-cream cones, when a bored cameraman zooms in. "I saw you on television, in the middle of the day," your uncle says. You go red in the face. Was worth it, though.
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