For the love of cricket

During the1999 World Cup, i was in Miami. We had no money, so there were no expensive satellite hookups to watch the genteel game at home.

Who would be that special someone who would accommodate our cricketing needs ungrudgingly? Game time in the US is almost always in the wee hours of the morning and inviting strangers into your home in darkness is never easy. Luckily, we found someone who happened to be an acquaintance of our halalmeat man.

I found myself pre-dawn in a strange home, abandoned by my husband who was genuinely engrossed in the game and unaware of strange eyes everywhere... Much to our misery Pakistan lost that match, but i gained some insight and wisdom, thanks to the lady of the house, into how to hold onto my marriage: 'Have children jaldi.' Okay stranger, as you wish.

The game made us extend boundaries into the lives of people we would never have crossed paths with otherwise. Gracious, humble people who welcomed us into their home simply for the love of the game. They shared their family, food and joy, and willingly let us encroach into their intimate circle. I distinctly remember sitting on a chawki supporting my back with a gao takya, wondering if i would have opened my heart and entertained them into my tiny apartment had they been lacking the satellite hookup. I hope so.

Twelve years down the road, i find myself in a dissimilar situation and no dilemma, but the passion for the game remains the same. We have the advantage of watching the game at home on HD but my husband still prefers to watch it with a group of friends, which generally means a car drive in the wee hours of the morning which sometimes translates to non-HD viewing, but no longer to a stranger's house.

This time, however, we hosted the quarterfinal between Pakistan and the West Indies. The first doorbell rang before 1.30 a.m. and by victory time there was a band of brothers exchanging high-fives over parathas and karak chai. It was lovely. Now the band of brothers plans to congregate on March 30. I will watch the match at home; i did pay heed to the strange lady's advice, i need to watch my kids.

As Pakistan prepares to battle India in Mohali i can think of countless reasons why Pakistan needs to win the semifinals, and one of them may just be that we are, in our minds, unprepared to lose. We, in Vegas, have already decided on a home for the 'raatjaaga' for the semifinals, and i am trying to coax people into committing for the final, but apparently commitment is a jinx.

There are ultimate optimists, like me, who have decided on hosting the victory celebrations, and many a pessimist who chant, 'ho hi nahi sakta', to which i say, 'mark my words, this time we will sip from the Cup'.

I hosted a dinner party last night and the atmosphere was electric. All my friends were from the homeland, but one. As she entered hostile territory, all gave her a sheepish smile and goaded her. She remained unperturbed, but hummed this popular Hindi song 'Aaaa dekhain zara, kis main kitna hai dum'. To which came, 'Boom boom, jab bhi miltay hain hum aur tum'. It almost felt like a wedding. Who will take the bride? Your guess is as good as mine.