Remembering The Good Old Days When I Played Cricket

Cricket might be native to England but one nation that has adopted the game wholeheartedly is India. Given any free time for the kids here, every nook and cranny is filled with groups of kids enjoying and revelling right from morning to late in the night.

The noise of a Hayden cracking the ball with the Willow might be music to the ears but no less is the sound of a vulcanised rubber ball on the bat when the kids thwack it! These are the Gillys, the Haydens, the Tendulkars of Gully Cricket as it is popularly known out here.

And to think that I was a part of all this merriment once upon a time. Shouting, screeching and ranting at the top of my voice, running between the wickets as if those were World Cup finals, diving to take catches without bothering much about the muck and the grime, everything seems a distance dream to me...

Marching back home looking like a ragamuffin scrounging for food, making my mother yell at me for being utterly irresponsible and illogical makes me laugh now. Gone are the days when I had the freedom to play cricket with boys nearly twice my age, scuffling with them for a chance to bat first, debating over a controversial run-out..everything has changed...

I am no longer the younger version of myself playing and enjoying just for the heck of it, these days I have qualms whether I can hold the bat correctly in my palms and all my pitching of the balls end up as mostly wides or no-balls.

Those carefree days unbridled by careers and future prospects have been marred by the "Grow up with age" factor. I have ceased to be the 10-year-old who had the freedom to care a tuppence about "What should be my next move" and worry more about which side of the field do I hit my next shot?

I am now a 21-year-old burdened with responsibilities of choosing a career for myself and making a mark in the "Real" world: as if I was living in an imaginary society all this long....

These days when I see youngsters playing out in the bylanes and the narrow streets, I don't know what emotions to feel: envy that I can't do what the kids are doing, at least not without worrying about "Whiling away precious time"; sorrow that I don't get to do what I loved once or ignore and act surly to the players criticising and acting like a hypocrite preaching about not realising their priorities.

Encumbered with a zillion duties like a mule piled with luggage, my demonstration of exuberance and passion for the sport is restricted only to being a fan and if I could be granted one wish, just one for a day I would wish for a snippet from that part of my life which I sorely and very dearly miss!