Hugging complete strangers and all that…
Looked like it will be yet another Saturday of household chores, family and then catching the world cup final at home from the confines of one’s couch. A tweet offering last minute tickets was bait, a huge one. It not only meant paying a bomb but also getting out of the couch getting to Wankhede in no time, no time for mental preparations, if you know what I mean. Time was running away. In 60 minutes, I had the decision, the tickets in place and that nervous feeling which said “What am I headed to” A suburban local train ride in Mumbai always puts things in perspective. It was ‘me’ time, almost like I was preparing for the game. Bat first get to 300, if we chase we lose, will Sachin get to 100, who’ll play Malinga, what if he does a Kenya to us. I looked around and everyone in the compartment seemed on their way to work or some such, I seemed out of place, why weren’t these guys excited, nervous, chatting about the game. I had to talk to myself; there was no one around who seemed inter