My First Love

As India clinched the T20 World Cup 2024 yesterday, I was transported back to my school days when cricket was my greatest passion. In 2008, when I left my home in Bangalore for Hyderabad to start my corporate career at GE, I penned my first blog post—my debut in the public domain. It was a nostalgic memoir of my school years and my unwavering love for cricket. I am sharing the blog post on LinkedIn to celebrate this momentous victory. Here goes the blog post:

If you are reading this thinking that it's about my love for a person, then I must inform you that it's not. However, I can say that it's pretty much similar...

The day used to start with me reciting some Sanskrit prayers to three goddesses. After I got up, Amma (my mom) was almost entirely at my disposal. I would have shouted "coffee" five times, even before brushing my teeth. My next query was whether all my clothes, shoes, and socks were washed. If the answer happened to be yes, then there was no apparent appreciation; if not, it would escalate into a loud fight. It was as if I was doing my parents a big favour by going to school. At that time, I was just about a teenager.

Saturday was my favourite day during those times. There were many reasons it became the favourite day for most of my classmates as well: the school used to get over as early as 11:20, the TV show Shaktimaan was aired at 12, there was very little homework to submit, we had one and a half hours on the field for drill, etc. I considered those as very good reasons, but for me, the best reason was that I could play cricket after school. Cricket in the afternoon, cricket in the evening, and practising bowling at home during the night. I waited for Saturday much more eagerly than I do now.

I always aspired to be a leg spinner. I even got a book to learn that. I bowled both spin and medium pace, sometimes a mix of both. I was part of two teams, one in school and another near my home. The team near my home was formed mostly by my primary school friends. I was an established player in that circle, whereas in my school, I was more of a struggling player, like those trying hard to make it to the team. Nevertheless, my aim was to represent my school, not just my class. I didn't care to study even if I had tests; I didn't mind getting the last rank in class, but I couldn't miss the Sunday evening game. I was pretty lucky that my parents never forced me to focus on my education, even when I did so badly back then.

Painting was my other passion in life. Going to painting contests had almost become my Sunday morning routine. Winning those contests regularly made me a known person in the school. I enjoyed that popularity. I had lost quite a lot before I started winning many. That's when I started really appreciating victories. That's when I realized there is nothing like "not doable." That's when I started painting classes for kids. Those painting classes became handy in a very good way; I could buy cricket gear like batting gloves, leg pads, thigh pads, balls, etc. Freedom in my life extended to a new level. The impact of money on achieving happiness was felt. In this way, painting had become my best friend and cricket my love.

Road cricket was like our miniature version of actual cricket. We had made our own set of rules that suited the environment. To mention a few rules: if a batsman hit the ball directly into someone's house, he was declared out; if the ball went into the gutter, one run was declared no matter how many runs the batsman completed; the bowler could not throw the ball faster than a certain speed to the batsman, etc. A metal chair from my house served as the wickets. The bowler-to-batsman distance was nearly one-fourth of the actual standards. Road cricket was in many ways very crude, nevertheless very much fun. I used to run home soon after the final school bell and make all the arrangements for road cricket. Going to each friend's house in the neighborhood, convincing them to play—the toughest part was convincing their moms to allow their boys. Homework and tests were the spoilers. My mom had given up on convincing me to do academic stuff during those hours. On some nice evenings, quite a few neighbors joined the game. Some were my age, some were older, but the intensity in the game was the same among us. There was only one thing that mattered: winning. Each day we had different combinations of players in teams. If one day a person was my teammate, the next day he might be my rival. The craving for runs, wickets, and catches made the game very sensitive to fights. Sometimes the fights led to major resentment, but by the next day, no one cared to remember. Ultimately, everyone wanted to play.

After I made it to my school team, I started attending coaching sessions organized by the school. Waking up at five in the morning, which seemed impossible earlier, became very doable when I started attending those cricket practices. Bowling continuously for hours didn't tire me. Not a single ball I delivered was to stop the batsman from hitting; it was sent only to get him out. The batsman could only be our enemy; getting him out was everything. I had a pretty decent debut, taking three wickets for some nominal runs scored on me. I never considered myself a batsman. I didn't mind bowling all the overs and not getting a chance to bat even a single ball. I went on to become a regular player in my school team. In a day, I thought about cricket all 24 hours.

My 15th birthday and my first day of 10th standard happened to be the same day. That day, or I think those few days, were very decisive in my life, as I see it now. The consciousness of "10th standard" ==> "Board exam" had crept into every cell in my body. Slowly, cricket coaching was replaced by tuitions for board exams and Sunday morning painting contests by NTSC tuitions. I played road cricket for a few days, but I didn't have the guts to ask my friends to join the game even for half an hour, since I myself was not sure whether I should play or not. It was neither my parents nor my sister nor any person who told me to stop doing what I enjoyed so much; but I did stop.