After four long years, India and Pakistan were once again facing each other. fighting it out, not in videos or newsroom debates, but on the cricket pitch to prove, which team is superior. The enthusiasm was palatable every where, people were discussing it, making plans to watch it together, restaurants and pubs were cashing in on by attracting millions of cricket enthusiasts all across the country. For me, it was no different, I too was eagerly waiting to watch it.

My day started, with an interesting chat at the gym with a fellow resident. When I asked him, whom he thought had a better chance of winning the match, his views differed from mine, even though they were backed with reasonable facts and rationals, I disagreed. We chatted for a while, there was much good-natured banter, which I sincerely hope, he did not take too seriously. We left, and his views did not waver my set beliefs and faith on the outcome of the match.

It was noon by now, just a couple of hours were left for the match to start, I was stoked and anxious at the same time. Puchki had just returned home from school and kept innocently looking at me, wondering, what had gotten over her mother. By the time it was two, an hour left for the match, I was a nervous wreck, moving around the house like a headless chicken, trying to engage myself in some chores to keep the jitters at bay.

Finally, when the clock struck 3, it was time for the match, I simply could not muster the courage to switch on the T.V.; I felt as if I was appearing for an exam and somehow felt as if I was completely unprepared for it. I kept checking my phone for regular live updates and stopped for sometime once Virat Kohli was out. I felt most relaxed, when the rains delayed the innings. Once the match resumed, the middle order did show some valor and kept the runs flowing in, but the final score was far less than what I had anticpated. Looking at my condition. Lord Indra showed his unbound mercy and the match was finally called off due to persistent rains. I was jubilant.

This morning, when I woke up and in my reflective state of mind, I was reminded by my inner voice that cricket is a sport, which is watched world over, merely for entertainment. A gentlemen’s sport, where enthusiasts enjoy the healthy display of world class technique and timing. Sadly, I have turned it into an ego clash, wherein the country that I support has no choice, but to win, show its supremacy and dominance. And God forbid, if they happen to loose a match, overnight they would be unworthy of my support and would be at the receiving end of countless brickbats.

As I write this blog, I’m trying for my wiser side of mind to take charge and overshadow the imbecilic side, till it finally subsides. This would take time and persistent practice, but I have faith ‘Hum Honge Kamyab Ek Din.’ (we will succeed someday!).