Was at Phoenix Market City with friends yesterday for an important ‘purpose’
(Purpose is highlighted because we middle
– class guys usually go to malls primarily to kill time, not to buy something)
The God of Cricket, Sachin Tendulkar, was going to play the last ever cricket
match of his life time and there was the plausibility of scoring his first
ever hundred at Lord’s. To add more grandeur to the occasion, he was captaining
the side MCC (Marylbourne Cricket Club) and there were so many other living
legends of cricket who were also taking part in this historical match like Rahul Dravid, Adam Gilchrist, Muthiah
Muralidaran, Shane Warne, Brett Lee, Shaun Pollock, Brian Lara
and many others. We were forced to go out somewhere to witness the game as the
required channel was not subscribed in our hostel television.
There was no certainty on whether
the match would be telecast live at the mall. Yet, it was our only hope as we
are all Sachinians, mad to do even
criminal actions to see him one more time again. Manimaran and Arjun were also bursting
with high blood pressure till we reached the food court at the third floor. Oh,
wow!!!! There it was going on. But then, there was this embarrassment of
sitting idle for about five hours, when people around you were gulping whatever
they found nearby. ‘Forget it, guys’,
Manimaran told, ’We don’t need food while
worshipping God.’ So, we took three convenient seats and started watching
the Gentleman’s Game, literally, of
late. Rest of the World, shepherded
by Shane Warne, batted first and scored a healthy 293. It was really blissful
and ecstatic to watch Sachin run around the field vying for the ball like a
child. He was enjoying his game and so were we on seeing him. So now, it was
the turn of the Little Maestro to
step in and deliver the goods for his side, rather, for the whole fraternity of
cricket. There he was, padded up with his usual gesture of facing the almighty
over the horizon before facing the first delivery. The match was going on well,
with the master at full flow. He cut, dove pulled and flicked the opposition
bowlers at will. When it was already raining runs, nature interrupted with the
shower; Match was put to halt. So, we had no other option but to stick on to
our routine of roaming around the various shops without any slightest aim of
purchasing something.
When we wandered around the gigantic
air – conditioned heaven, there were things that made me poignant. There were
toddlers and infants in the FunCity, playing virtual games. There were rich, ‘I don’t dare to care’ kind of people,
who had come there simply to waste money by buying bucket popcorns and crushers
in KFC, which, in fair terms, could easily satisfy the hunger and thirst of
about 100 poor families. There were even some 60+ veterans trying out pizzas
and burgers. This made me rewind to my childhood and neighborhood of those
times.
As I had already mentioned in some
other post, I hadn’t had the so – called privilege of being immersed in these
interactive virtual environment throughout the day. We mostly enjoyed in the
real world, playing our hearts out in the sunny days and moon – lit nights.
Till my 10th standard, it was always cricket in the mornings and afternoons,
and hide – and – seek during the nights. We were mostly into several sorts of
adventures like climbing up tall compound walls, which were far beyond our
heights to reach, and ringing the calling bells of strangers’ homes, which
would disturb their peaceful dinner or serene sleep. Eventually, we were at the
court of parents, who would pretend to be strict with us for the first two or
three days post the incident, after which we would go on with our duty.
There was an old man who became our
target mostly. This man was highly superstitious and orthodox in practice.
Once, we rang the doorbell at his home and hid among the bushes of his own
garden. He, on thinking that the guests whom he was awaiting, had arrived,
opened the door eagerly. Disappointed on seeing nobody, he yelled on top of his
throat some traditional Tamil abuses, which only grandmas and grandpas could
comprehend. Just then, one of the guys meowed like a cat in a coarse voice,
which evidently frightened the old man. He immediately rushed towards the front
door and locked it. After sometime, we could hear him speaking to someone
though phone, “Don’t come here now. And,
I mean it. There have been ominous signs here. I sense danger and threat to
your lives. I heard a black cat purring, which I a signal of evil. So, better
cancel your plans and come here some time later.” We had tasted the most
convincing victory in terms of frightening someone apparently through this man.
However, we were found to responsible and ‘punished’ by our parents in the
usual way, which I already mentioned.
As I grew up, so did the number of
houses being built. So, we were left with no other option but to play in the
streets. This drew flak from our neighbors and we were seen as some aliens who
had come on Earth to destroy the whole planet. People had their own reasons: They
could not sleep during noon due to our noises, they had to repair glass panes
in the windows very often, courtesy the ruthless shots played by us and more.
Some started detesting our parents and it went to the extent of even avoiding
them totally in some important meetings in the locality. But, we had
justifications on our part. “Suggest us
at least only one ground, which is entirely empty without even a single house,
and we’d play there. Who likes to play in these nasty roads?” In spite of
the stern opposition from the whole of the area, we managed to spend every
morning in the hot sun. Neither their abuses and grumbles nor our habit
stopped.
There was a lady, who was very
brainy in eating at others’ house. She knew the weak point of each residence
and went there prepared accordingly. In our house, her chances always broadened
when she started speaking sentimentally about her family situation and the
regular brawls and difference of opinions with her mother – in – law. She would
start by asking, “Can I have a cup of
water, please?” Mom would instantaneously offer it; as the tempo of her
story increased, so would her menu list. Sometimes this would result in her
getting a full dinner. I always wonder how she had such a brilliance, which if
used in a beneficial way, would have easily made her an extraordinary
diplomatic strategy analyst. However, mom understood her tactics as her stories
and gossips became almost the same every day like the mega serials and Harris
Jayaraj songs and learnt to avoid her in a polished manner. Now, no person of
this kind could be found here because people here never mind about spending
money these days for something or nothing. But, there were personalities like this
lady, who would spend any amount of time, but not money, to satisfy their
needs.
Recently, during the semester
holidays, I had this chance of meeting some of those neighbors who had had a
grudge on me during various time periods. The old man, whom we meowed blessed
me from the core of his heart and soul, the lady who had once shouted bad about
my parents because of my playing cricket near her house and breaking their
windows, now greeted me with snacks and coffee. I can still remember that old
man saying, “The world has changed
entirely. People are in a different mindset and mentality, focusing on only
material wealth. Even children younger than you are always engrossed in front
of computers. There’s nobody out here to disturb my sleep by ringing the bell.
Miss you children.”
There are two wonderful things about elders:
1) They have the capability to easily
make me cry through their words
2) Only they can fulfill my hunger to
the fullest extent other than mom, even by giving bhajjis and a cup of milk,
but with unfathomable love and affection, which cannot be compensated by
loading the belly with pizzas and cool drinks.
Miss you people!!!
