Blue spillage!

I still feel like going berserk again, like we did day before yesterday, to scream and jump with joy with no one and nothing to stop us! So satisfying has been the coveted win that the mind refuses to stop smiling with gratitude and happiness. And so everything around feels so jubilant and colourful and wonderful and everything to feel happy about!

Add to that the festive occasion of the new-year, home-made sweets, festival feast and the start of spring, and one surely has a treasure trove of fun and happiness. In such a joyous mood, I picked up an 'unused from 1988' pack of oil-colour tubes and decided to paint anything that came to my mind. Since it was the first time I was using oil as the medium, I didn't know (and still don't know) the technicalities/techniques involved and decided to do it just with my fingers. I certainly felt a kid-like joy doing this painting :D

Splash all the hues! And Bring on the Blue!

-Vindy

The Cricket match

I have always been a dreamer and my most cherished dreams for a major part of my childhood and then into the teens revolved around cricket. This must be true in the case of millions of youngsters like me in this country, over the past two decades. I always dreamt of doing it for India. I would come to bat with more than half the side back into the pavilion and a couple of hundreds of runs required to win. With grit and tenacity, I would then start bailing my nation out of the troubled waters. I used to plan each and every session of the innings in my fantasy. Such fantasies amused me and entertained me to no end. Hours would be spent on formulating various possibilities and run patterns. I would pick up my partners and decide the partnerships I would have with them. The opposition used to be Pakistan in the initial years and then Australia replaced them when India-Australia rivalry surpassed the other. I would imagine Glen Mcgrath and Shane Warne at their deadly best, firing all deliveries in their repository trying to dislodge me. I would actually visualize myself playing them, enacting each and every shot. Then, I followed them up with a mimicry of commentary of the famous commentators like Henry Bofield, Ravi Shastri, Tony Grieg, Michael Holdings etc. Every match would reach a stage where a highly improbable equation would beckon during the closing stages and I would be faced with scoring around 36 runs in the final over. Then, every ball would be imagined, properly analyzed, a shot selected, enacted and the whole sequence executed with all the drama attached to it. An imaginary crowd would create the background din and whatever place I were standing in, would become my stadium. I must have taken India to victory a hundred times in this fashion and I cherished every time I did so. That fantasy brought so much joy and euphoria that I used to relive it again and again whenever I found myself alone and thinking cricket. I never considered my dreams to be impossible and I still fantasize about such feats once in a while. But now I know the bare reality and the fact that such a thing can only feed my imagination and never materialize. However, when I got a chance to play for my department in the ongoing cricket tournament, my enthusiasm touched the sky again. If not for India, I can do it at least for my department some day, I felt. Thus started a daily session of early morning practice on the ground.

It was difficult initially, with every muscle, ligament and sinew in my body complaining against the unprecedented out lash of straining exercise. It was doubly difficult to carry the additional weight I have gained over the past few months and I struggled to move. I improved slightly over the next few days and started feeling confident about running around and moving without apprehensions. Catching was the main worry due to my wobbling glasses which made it difficult for me to steady my gaze on the approaching ball. Anyway, I was geared up for some serious cricket now. After sitting out for the first two matches, one a knockout which we won and then a league match that we lost, I finally got a chance to represent my department in our second league match. It felt great. It was a do or die match for us and we didn't do too well and lost it. I chipped in with a few runs and did a little fielding. It was a disappointing first outing for me and the whole team felt down for having missed a chance of making it to semifinals. We still had our final league match where we had nothing to lose. I was in the playing eleven and the words of our captain at the start jolted me and perhaps all of us. He said, "This just might be the last competitive game of cricket for some of you. So just go out there and enjoy yourself." Yes, he was so right, this could be my last competitive match in IISc. I felt really overwhelmed by this realization and promised myself, to do my best.

We were batting first. The afternoon sun was high in the clear sky and it was pretty hot. But the heat hardly mattered. We were all in a very jubilant mood. In fact, fun was the only thing on our mind. So we decided to do all sorts of juggling with the batting line up. Our regular openers were given a rest and two others asked to open. The moment Shashi was asked to go and open by our captain, Lalit, he sent his hands high up and exulted gleefully. He picked up his bat, wielding, like a warrior would wield his sword, and set out towards the pitch even before the opposition fielders and the umpires had stepped onto the field. War cry was given and a sort of taandav nrutya done on the pitch by him. With the long locks (jataa) that he has, it looked even more impressive. We were all cheering amidst rollicking laughter. Naveen joined him as the other opener and the match finally started. All of us in the pavilion were in a vociferous mood. Every ball would be followed by uproarious comments and a plethora of distracting suggestions to the opposition bowlers and fielders, but all in the right spirit. We lost a couple of wickets before our captain steadied the ship as usual. Everybody else contributed in good measure and kept the scoreboard ticking along the innings. I went in to bat 5 down and was soon joined by Prasanna. We had the final 15 deliveries or so to bat. My first three deliveries were nice and full and I just drove them along the ground for three quick singles. The opposition captain, who was also the bowler then, patted me when I managed to do the same to him three times on a trot in spite of his minor field adjustments and length adjustments. The singles relaxed the nerves, so did the way Prasanna nudged around for a few more singles. Over the last few deliveries we ran like people possessed, converting ones into twos and twos into threes, sometimes helped by fielding lapses and overthrows. I was panting and gasping for breath, but had little time between deliveries to get some air back into my suffocating lungs. We called for an emergency drinks break in the final over, which anyway didn't help much, since I could not drink much. I was just simply gasping and going crazy. I missed two crucial deliveries, but connected the final one properly, which yielded two runs and took the score beyond 100. Our final total in 15 overs was 101/6. Good enough, we thought. I had made 15 desperate runs and managed to stay not out. I was mighty pleased with my effort and looked forward to fielding with the same vigour now. We knew we could make a match of it and were very determined to do so.

The second innings started. We knew only one way; the way of aggression, intensity, grudge, commitment and nerve-racking energy. The bowlers bent their back undaunted by the sapping heat and we fielders flung ourselves at whatever that came our way. We were enjoying every moment of it. The opposition lost a few wickets, four precisely, to some good bowling and nice catching. Then a partnership started building up. After the first five overs, I cast a glance at the scoreboard and realized that they required another 80 runs off the final 10 overs. Tough task, but definitely doable. Dust was rising up continuously from the agitated ground and settling on us. I was sweating under the sun and dusty all over. An accumulating screen of dust on my wet glasses made me clean it regularly. The lips were going dry and tasted salty on being licked. My throat was parched and running dry likewise. We were constantly encouraging each other and mindful of any complacency creeping in. But the opposition wasn't giving up easily and were gradually reaching a position of strength. Our captain provided the breakthrough with his final over. He called himself on to ball and sent down a cracker of a ball after being cut for a boundary. The furniture was disrupted and we all erupted. We had one serious problem to contend with now. Our over rate was lagging behind and we had to complete the last four overs in just 10 minutes, failing which 8 runs would be docked off our total. It was getting tense and very frantic. Requiring 30 of the final three overs, their opener, Naveen, who was still subsisting, slogged a boundary and pulled a six. He was undoing all our hard work and fighting hard. But we weren't ready to cave in. Arjun came on to ball the penultimate over with they still requiring 17 for a win. Bowling with a short run up, to save time, he was bowling an excellent, tidy over giving away 5 off the first 5 deliveries. His last delivery was crucial to keep the pressure up on them. He bowled, slightly outside the off stump, enticing the batsman to drive and deceiving him to induce an edge. Rigil, our wicketkeeper, stooped low to pick up a neat catch near his feet and we had got rid of a major obstacle. Naveen was gone. Prasanna was summoned to ball the final over. With 12 required of 6 balls, it could go any way. The first ball was fiercely pulled and Karthik misjudged the bounce, conceding a boundary.
8 required of 5 balls!
The batsman swung his bat at the next ball and missed it. 8 required of 4 balls!
The next ball was clubbed away to long on and the batsman scampered through for a double. 6 required of 3 balls!
The next delivery was bowled. Batsman danced down the wicket and lifted the ball high up in air. I was standing at a shortish mid-on position and made a dash for the catch towards the square leg umpire. It was the moment of trial for me. I had to judge it and catch it. My spectacles were wobbling, vision shaking with it and the ball rising endlessly. Then it started making a dash towards the ground and I was still running to get under it. I saw it coming down in a wavy trajectory and tried to adjust accordingly. But it was coming down fast and I was just barely under it. In a last ditch attempt, I swerved under the ball and tried to hold it as it hit me. The ball bounced on my unsteady palm and ricocheted in Tanmoy's direction behind the keeper. I had dropped it! I had dropped the most crucial catch. I felt disappointed and crushed. Worse even, the batsmen had managed to run two and the equation now changed to '4 required of 2 balls!'
I tried to regroup and was full of anger when I returned back to my position. It had been a good day in field for me. I had made a couple of good saves and no serious blunders. Then, I messed awfully in the dying stages. I felt bad, but even more determined to catch anything that came even slightly close to me now. The next ball again fetched them two and the match came down to the final ball.
1 ball to go 2 runs required!
My heart was pounding. I widened my eyes trying to not make even the slightest mistake now. Everyone was on their feet, everyone was backing each other. The opposition players were ready to flood the field with their fluttering flag at the stroke of victory and we were not ready to budge and give it away. We felt we would do it, we just so desperately wanted to win. Prasanna came running to bowl the last ball. The batsman tightened his grip on the bat and started coming down the wicket. Prasanna let go the delivery and we all strained hard to let go ourselves at the ball wherever it be hit. The batsman lifted his bat and swung wildly at the ball. The ball yorked him, he missed it, Rigil pouched it right above the stumps and in one fleeting movement brought the bails down in a flash. The batsman was stumped and stumped. We jumped in the air, exulting and our hearts surged even higher. Everybody ran amok, wildly charging the pitch where the bowler was already over the wicketkeeper, then hugged and congratulated each other. We were feeling ecstatic and as the feeling sunk in after a few minutes, contentment was writ on all our faces.

This is undoubtedly my best sporting experience in this institute. The next time I see a close game won by our team, I would know how it feels. The victory margin of 1 run was as close as we could get to giving away our victory and still managing to pull it back. I would always carry in my memory, those 15 runs, that diving stop, those wickets, that missed catch, that last ball and most importantly the wonderful spirit we carried all throughout the game, and look back with joy and satisfaction. Dreams are one thing, now I can say, I have lived the thriller!

-Vindy

:)