There are few days in our entire lives that we are able to relive almost minute-by-minute, what psychologists like to call 'flashbulb memories', and I lived one such moment not too long ago...
India won the first Twenty20 World Cup. To many, its just a fact. For me, it evokes a string of memories- of each and every one of the events that unfolded in those magical three and a half hours...
I remember just how overcast it was- the sky knit with clouds of gloom- but the weather on the other side of the window couldn't have been more different. As the two traditional rivals lined up to sing the national anthems- one could almost feel history being created. And every little thing that happened afterwards is etched in my memory. The first ball near run-out, to the magnificent first six that Irfan's bigger version launched into the stands and Asif's ultimate revenge.
And all along, the two urges tearing me on the inside- one wanting to stay, to not miss one second of the proceeding; the other not wanting to see- the stress, the tension- almost overwhelming. I remember running into my room, shutting the door, and pretending to read a novel that I now cannot even recall the name of- all the while, my heart in the drawing room- where the TV lay. I remember trying to act nonchalant, telling everyone that India was going to lose with the palatry score they posted- all the while wishing, more than ever, that I would be proved wrong.
I also remember running out every time I heard the faintest of shouts- and then rushing right back in- almost as if by my not seeing, Indian would win. I remember how a friend called, and as I talked to him, a flurry of shouts came from the TV room- I rushed, and can still remember the faces of my father and brother flushed with joy- with my father declaring that it was all over- Malik and Afridi were gone! I remember hanging up on my friend, and wathing every single ball that followed- pacing up and down the room- the excitement not letting me sit. I remember, very vividly, how Misbah and Tanvir almost single-handedly took the game away- I remember each of those five seemingly humongous hits over the boundary that followed- turning the whole match on its head. And I also remember the revenge of Sreesanth- that sweet sound of timber- as Tanvir walked back. But also the feeling that probably it was all over.
I also remember RP Singh's excellent penultimate over, but also the excruciating question just before the start of the last one- who would it be? Who would bowl the last over after Bhajji had gotten the stick in his two overs? Our most unlikely crisis-hero, as it turns out. Joginder Sharma. As he wiped the sweat off his face not being able to hide the nervousness and bowled the first ball- that got nowhere near the batsmen- one got the feeling that it was all over. Twelve runs. Six balls. Only one wicket in hand, but the in-form Misbah on strike. And a nervous Joginder Sharma. Could it get any easier for Pakistan? The six off the very next ball only added to the silence that one could feel in the surroundings- as dismay almost consumed each and every one of us in front of the TV set. Four balls. Six runs. Too easy.
And then came the ball that can probably be replayed at will in the minds of each and every Indian cricket fan... Joginder Sharma's third ball-- Misbah moving across his stumps to play what looked like a pre-meditated shot-- an unorthodox scoop-- the ball staying in the air for what seemed like an eternity-- and then, Sreesanth (and his God!) emerging out of nowhere and taking the catch-- and Ravi Shastri's exact words... "It's all over! INDIA WIN!"-- And the eruption of unadultrated blissful joy that immediately followed-- My father and brother running across the room with shouts of joy-- me, on the floor, crying in disbelief.
Ask me twenty years down the line, and I'll probably be able to live each one of those moments in explicit detail. Ask me fifty years down the line, and it'll still hold true. That moment, and everything that followed- the Indians in a heap over Sehwag; Misbah still at the crease- on his knees in dibelief, agony; the Indian victory lap; Bhajji and Irfan's joyous chest-bump; Dhoni taking his shirt off and presenting it to a fan; the presentation ceremony- and the riot of celebration that followed- in South Africa and on the other side of the TV set; and even Harsha Bhogle's parting words "the most deserving final in the longest time"...
Yes. They'll all live on. Each one of them. In joyous, explicit detail.
This was my 'flashbulb memory', what about yours? :)
1 comment:
that gave mee gooseflesh!
Certainly a flashbulb memory for me too! and I think for every Indian! cos we're all so passionate about the game
Post a Comment