The half-a-rupee fun with cricket

Long years ago, when I was a tiny school going kid, the game of cricket was equally popular and was followed with a frenzied zeal.  For a 10 year old, it had all the excitement of a test, one-day and a t20 – though the last terms were unknown in those days. It was just the singular game of cricket; it didn’t matter whether it was played over 5 days or a few hours.

I used to live in Kanpur those days. We had two very large playing grounds near my house – within a kilometer on either side.  The size of free playing ground I have never ever seen in my life, in whichever cities I have lived in or traveled since then. For those who know about Kanpur would surely vouch for that – one was Motijheel and the other was Brijendra Swaroop Park.  I am not sure if these have become ‘protected’ and ‘charged’ facilities over the years but in those days these had gates open for all.

Cricket being an accepted ‘religion’ for all of us, this was our favorite pass-time during the evenings - but that used to be within the vicinity of our home, right on the street.  We didn’t have heavy traffic those days, nor did we have so many cars parked on the sides of the houses.  Yes, at times a few window panes were broken or a few passers-by got hit but the issue was always settled amicably with the help of some senior boys and at the expense of a few words of repentance and a few expressions of remorse.

However, Sunday’s used to be special.  We used to have matches played against the other teams, which were either some organized clubs or were representing the other streets of the locality.  The challenge was made a few days in advance and the ground and specific track was pre-agreed.  Early morning, a few representatives from both the teams will go to the ground and put their stumps at the appropriate track to reserve their playing strip.  The two complexes had multiple grounds of the size of KSCA, but every such ground used to have many playing strips where different teams used to play independently – completely oblivious of the other game. It was always on the first-come-first-served principle but on a very few occasions, some very senior blokes used to bully us out or used to force us to barter with another slightly inferior playing strip.  Nevertheless, it was part of life and we were happy as long as there was a place to play.

The red leather ball used to cost Rs.11/- in those days.  The playing eleven of both the sides used to contribute 50 paise each to make up for Rs5.50 on each side and together we used to buy one red leather ball.  The team winning the toss would invariably bowl first to take the advantage of the shine and the team fielding second would thus get the slightly older ball to bowl with.  The winner of the tie would take the ball as a souvenir and that we used for our practice for subsequent days, until the next win.  And that was the only expense that we would do – the two bats and one set of stumps will come from one of the team members; another guy would get a set of pads and we would use it only for the front leg – the other leg will brave it out bare. Sometimes we would have a pair of gloves but that was never a deterrent.

The passion that we played with, the fun that we had in those 4-5 hours, the sense of achievement that we got after winning a tie, and all that at the cost of Rs.0.50 is beyond belief today.  Even after spending a few thousands and securing a strategic view seat at the beautiful Chinnaswamy Stadium could never give me that kick. It is just that life was simple in those days. We never wanted anything more than that red cherry that we part-financed with the other team.  Neither we ever carried a drinking water bottle with us nor our mothers ever worried as to how we could play in sun without any food for 6 hours.  The municipality taps ran all through day in all corners of the ground and that was sufficient for us to brave the heat.

Life seems to have become more complex now.  The kids have to necessarily carry a fresh water bottle. All of them need to have their own personal kits. The white gear is more important than the batting skills. The grounds are owned or leased by clubs.  And all this may still not guarantee the half-a-rupee fun that we enjoyed in those days of cricket.