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 interested.
An hour or so later, I reached what looked like my worst nightmare. The longest queue ever, unruly, crazy, everyone chanting slogans, looked like I will miss the national anthem at the stadium. I did not want to miss the goose bumps galore, the million waving flags, the “Sachin Sachin” chants, the players practicing; the preamble rituals that make the ceremony grand. A police constable made the nightmare worse. He looked at my ticket and said “Son, this is not even your gate, its about half a km away” I was running already, so were many thousands who desperately tried to locate their gate. In retrospect, I realized that the ticket had directions clearly provided, it was one of those days when you don’t read, you just go with the flow. Gods were with me, Gate no 5 turned out to be a dream getting in. In five mins I was at Tier 3, H Block, North Stand, seat no 747.
Everyone was a stranger to begin with, but one round of ‘Sachin’ chant and the ice was broken. I found a buddy from Hongkong and an elderly gentleman and family who seemed to be from Delhi. We started with spotting players and naming then, going onto strategy, tactics, team compositions, all in the space of 15mins. The national anthem began and a sea of humanity stood still, frozen by those 60 secs or so, looking at each other, soaking in the atmosphere, emotions running high, I saw tears, fears, hope, brotherhood, hands on hearts and raised fists, emotions galore. Whatever happened later didn’t seem to matter; this was one huge bonding of the men in blue, from the team and from the country, Indians of all hues together, united.
The first half went away in a blur- Zak’s maidens, Mexican waves, India India chants, Booing Sreesanth, celebrating every wicket like we did when we got Viv Richards out in 1983. Pereira spoilt the party in the end and we knew it’d take a special inning from someone. All this while, food and drink were being passed around like we’re all family, didn’t matter who you were sharing your drink or food with.
Sachin walked out to bat and the roar just wouldn’t stop, just wouldn’t. For the first time one came close to understanding what this man carries as hopes, expectations, joys and sorrows. It was mere 35000 in the stadium but it seemed like a billion, I was scared for the diminutive man in the centre; he hardly seemed to be flustered. He scored 18 runs as if it were in his backyard, come to think of it, it WAS his backyard. But 31 for 2 and hopes fell, a nervous rush of phone calls, rushing to the loo, let’s get some food etc happened around me. Something refused to move within me, I was doing everything that those guys were doing, albeit mentally. “Will this come crashing down, will I see a double digit dismissal of the team”. Nervous, nervous, nervous!
The new India that now drives the team had other plans of course. Every run thereon was cheered as if it were a winning stroke; a million eyes wished the target downwards, one at a time, misfields just adding to the vociferous banter. Gambhir played attritional cricket with frequent reminder of his aggressive side as well. Instructions flew thick and fast from everyone “Easy Gauti” “Two for that Dhoni two for that”. Dhoni started the climax, with lusty powerful shots that could be clearly heard as “thwack” over all the din. It seemed that he was silencing one critic at a time with each lethal blow. He didn’t realise he’d got to 50 until everyone around him stood up and cheered, his celebrations were muted- the script was only half done. The way he grabbed the game by the collar thereon and thrust it away from the Lankans, is really the attitude of how hard this team plays the game. We are second to none,- bring em on Lee or Tait, Akhar or Gul, Malinga or Mendis. The demons within have been exorcised, this is Captain Cool
That winning six was a purgation of the dreads of a nation that had seen so many batting collapses and unsuccessful chases, once upon a time. When the winning moment came, I hugged and was hugged by everyone around, it was a fated collective, mixed together randomly by chance, united by an occasion bigger than any had witnessed ever. It will remain etched in each mind that saw it at the stadium and in the conscience of Indians at large wherever they were. It was time to write and rewrite history, Dhoni and his men, not boys, did it in style
Jai Hind!