In April 1992, my family moved house from 100, 1st E cross, Basaveshwarnagar, a small one bedroom apology for a house, to Flat No 003 Sarang Unitech apartments. The memory is vivid in my mind because, that was the first day got to play cricket as a full player.100, 1st E cross was a nice place even though I very barely remember it. But what I do remember, is that there was a huge (In retrospect, it was actually very small, but hey I was just a kid back then!) empty ground next to my house where the neighbourhood boys used to play cricket, and the girls used to play fire-on-the-mountain. Every evening was spent playing cricket. Rubber ball cricket, tennis ball cricket, and sometime if one was lucky, even cork ball cricket. Cork balls were rare precious commodities that only the "Big boys" were allowed to play with. (A little digression here. Those "big boys" seemed really tall those days. A couple of months back I met one of those guys. At 6'1, I had outgrown him by a good five inches and he had to look up to me. :) ) I don't remember the names of most of those guys who played cricket there. Most of them were much older than me. Gullu and Shiku, nicknames both, are probably the only names I remember. It was Gullu, who took pity on me on my last day at that house and picked me to be on his team.And even though I was very young,I had a little nascent crush on his sister Shiku. She was just warm and friendly and beautiful. But I digress. I do not remember much, but I do remember the guy who was so much older to all of us that he was actually called 'Uncle'. He could throw the ball higher and further than any of us.
I never played much cricket at 100, 1st E cross. I was much younger than anyone else and the most I ever did was to fetch the ball from the gutter across the street, or field in place of some guy who had been called in by his mother. Sitting on the compound wall,legs swinging furiously, I used to hope and hope that one of the captains would call my name to be included in his team. On most occasions they never did and invariably I was made the "Joker". And that meant fielding only. Occasionally they did take pity on me and bowled a few balls when they got bored of bickering amongst themselves. On Saturdays and Sundays, a group of college boys from the next street bullied all of us away and took over the ground. And as is the wont of every self respecting street-cricketer, broke at least one window pane every week.
When I moved to Flat No 003, Sarang Apratments, I was a bit older and most of the boys were more or less the same age. Since this was an apartment complex, the central plaza of the complex served as a cricket pitch, football ground and running/cycling track and skating rink all at the same time. At different times, we would play football, cricket and during one glorious summer when EVERYONE bought roller skates, skating. But the most popular game by far, was cricket. The plaza was one long avenue, 100 meters in length and about 8 meters wide at the most. And this was our cricket field. A huge flower pot at one end of the plaza was the batting wicket. And as near to 22 yards away was the bowling crease. Now there were no stumps at this end, and so the wicket at this end was just a bunch of slippers and sandals, discarded by us, as we played barefoot. Shoes did not make an entry until very much later. Remember this was the early nineties, when sports shoes and sneakers were a luxury. Since the mass of slippers rarely reached a height of more than a few inches, run outs at the non-strikers end were a problem. And hence was born the rule of current run out, or simply 'Current'. If the fielder or the person backing up at the non-strikers end had one foot on the mass of slippers and sandals and held the ball at the same time, then the batsman would be run out, if he was out of his crease. And of course, Pitch catch out. Being very poor fielders and even worse catchers, pitch catch out was mandatory. It died out around 2000 though, when we were grown up enough to actually hold on to the ball. The most irritating rule was that of the caught behind wall. You see, behind the flower pot-stump, was a wall that served as keeper, slip catcher and third man all put into one. And if the ball took the edge and hit the wall on any side, you were out. It didn't matter if you hit the wall 4 feet off the ground or 2 cm off the ground. Edging the ball meant, caught behind. I never saw the logic of this and to this day I still do not. What if the ball did not carry?? But then, at age 8, logic was not really a strong point. Of course, hitting any window meant you're out and the match was suspended, while everyone ran for their lives. Next to the flower pot was the door to flat No 003, and since my mother hated the noise and the melee of the ball continously hitting her front door, hitting the door too meant one was out.
Most of the matches that we played were six overs a side, though if the number of players was on the higher side, it would go up to ten overs. A couple of times we even played test matches with two innings of 15 overs per side. This was before T20 or the IPL was even a gleam in Lalit Modi's eye. Oh, the fun we had calculating the lead!!! Being rowdy boys all, everyone had his own method of calculating the Lead and the target and half an hour each time would be devoted to arguing about who had the correct target! Eventually, a target would be arrived at and chased and defended. You see, it was spirit of the game that mattered, not victory. Most of us were just happy to bat and cream the ball and hope it did not hit a window pane. All the talk of victory and defeat came much later. Innocence was yet to be lost. Taking a single off the last ball of the over and retaining strike was a cardinal sin.So was winning the toss and not batting first.Every batsman had to have a grace ball. A trial ball which he had the right to hit as he pleased without fear of getting out. And so with a bat, a ball and plenty of spirit, we were ready.
For a team sport, cricket has always been highly individualistic. Names stand out. And reputations are made irrespective of victory or defeat. And so it was with our very own little league.
Vikhram was the oldest boy in the complex and quite fittingly the best player amongst us, at least for a while. An attacking right hand batsman and a fearsome left hand fast bowler, facing Vikhy was the ultimate test for any batsman. Oh, the number of times I've been bowled by one of his yorkers is beyond count. if there was ever a game ending weapon, it was him. And we all prayed that we'd be chosen by him, so that we would not have to face him. And for a long time, I could never face more than four or five deliveries. But one day when I was in the eighth standard, I realised that a lot of his deliveries were just half volleys, and if I could get my bat down in time, I could cream him back over his head for four. And I did just that. The next ball I faced, I swnug with all I had and hit him back over his head. And for that day onwards, he held no fear for me. For that was the day I grew up. And I think he realised it too. He stopped mid way through his follow through and just stared at me for a minute and at the end of that minute, he had to turn back and bowl again. He did respond with a bouncer, but things were never the same again.
Jayanth, also called Raja ( a running joke on his name was Raja Baja Kosumbari Beeja) was a superb bowler, but a notably inept batsman and a pathetic captain. We'd hate to be on his side, because we'd invariably end up losing the match. His polar opposite was Lohit, an excellent batsman and a ferocious cutter of the ball, and a useful bowler as well and a very lucky captain. Rahul was one of our finest batsman, technically proficient, and the only one of us who had any kind of formal cricket training. Indeed he even went up to the state level cricket. Over the years, however I lost touch with him and do not know what became of his cricket career though. His twin brother Rohan though, was quite useless when it came to cricket.
When I first started playing cricket, I was not a good batsman and I simply lacked pace to ever menace the batsman. And so I turned to the only thing that was left. Fielding. And I was pretty good at it. To have someone throw themselves at the ball and stop the single, or to simply stop the ball, they'd turn to me. And I was happy to do that. it also meant that I was invariably the last guy to get picked, but hey at least I'd get picked!! Rohan had to be the umpire most of the time. I was so bad that when my turn came to bat last, my team would actually forfeit the match. Even so, I remember the very first runs I scored. It happened like this. When I went into bat,2 runs were needed and Rahul was on the non strikers end. And Jayanth, who was bowling, laughed at the way I held the bat. Amidst hysterical pleading by my teammates, I managed to score one run!! If I ever felt proud of myself, it was that moment! I had scored a run! And I had managed to level the scores!! Even Tendulkar's hundredth century would not have seen such celebrations. Only for Rahul to get out like a fool the next ball and negate all my hard work. Man, what a bummer. To this day, I believe we could have won the match.
Eventually though, I picked up some skill and polish at batting, and even started opening the batting. the first time I opened the batting, I managed to score 16 runs. And those were the best days of my life.
We all copied bowling actions from our favorite players. Jayanth used a fascimile of Darren Gough's high arm action. Harshin Shah was Glenn McGrath, and I picked up the flowing style of Chris Cairns. We all aimed to bowl pace. The pitch being concrete, the ball used to skid off the surface and whiz past like (As Ravi Shastri says) a tracer bullet. But it also meant that it came on to the bat pretty well and scoring was at a brisk pace. My finest days as a bowler was toward the end of the nineties, when I even yorked Lohit and could bowl really fast.
At times, the residents would shout at us, for making a racket or breaking panes. At other times, a few uncles joined us to play a game of cricket.
Ah those days, we lived in a microcosm. Sarang has a twin called Tarang. just across the road. And we did not know a single thing about that place. We did not know who stayed there. We did not know who played there and we did not know if they even existed. Until someone came up with the bright idea of organising a Sarang-Tarang cricket match! I remember being so excited about it that I simply could not contain my self. The match was supposed to take place in Tarang, enemy territory!! And I was chosen to represent Sarang in the all important clash. A lot of planning and strategising went into that match. And so on the chosen day, we went to Tarang and flipped the coin. The whole of Tarang turned out to watch the match, and quite naturally the home side had a lot of support.And it went on fabulously until the president of Tarang association came out of his house in his Lungi and shouted at us all for ruining his Sunday afternoon siesta and that was the end of that.
Vikhram and Jayanth grew up and went away to college. Siddharth joined the Navy. And Rahul moved away to another part of the town. In their place came Ashish, Sandeep and Adhitya. Time marched on. I was now old enough to captain one of the teams. And most of the time, my opponent would be Harshin.Harshin and I never got along. And even now I take a vicarious pleasure from reliving all the times my team beat him. An equal amount of time is spent agonising over every last ball defeat. That's the game of cricket. You win some and you lose some. Sunday morning, at 10 AM would be the start of the game. And the game would go on all day.During the tenth standard, my parents imposed a curfew on me. No more cricket. I guess any of you can empathise with this.It was time I became serous I was told. No more cricket,no more games. Only study. And I did score 90% in my board exams. But when I came back a year later, I discovered to my dismay that I had been superseded by a new generation of players! My authority was no longer respected, and once again I was reduced to hoping that I would be picked. I guess that was how Saurav Ganguly would have felt. But again, you win some, you lose some.
I always prided myself on the fact that I had never broken any windows. All good things had to come to an end and so too did this. On the fifth of May, 2003, while batting for my team, a half volley from Harshin was too juicy too juicy to resist and I let the ball have it with all my strength. And before I could even recover from the stroke and look where the ball had gone, I heard the fatal crash and tinkle of breaking glass and shattering panes. I had broken my own apartment's windows. I could not believe it, and everyone ran as usual. So great was my shock that I just stood there surveying the damage like a cow chewing her cud. No one else had anything to fear as it was my own window that I had damaged. But that shot was symbolic, for it ended my street cricket career. For you see, the next day, my family moved into No 250, BEML Layout, Rajarajeshwarinagar.
