You know that Emma Goldman-ish idea of dancing in the streets when the revolution comes? Well, in the Cricketing Republic of Bollywoodistan, that revolution was last night. It appeared to be a social revolution where for one day, The 11 men in blue created a brotherhood of sorts among all their countrymen. There was one single point around which our world turned for a day, that was this match.
If last time was Mahabharat, this time was
The second half of the Sri Lankan innings and the beginning of ours left me depressed. Sehwag aur Sachin ke jane se mujhe bahut bada sadma laga. I called my mother in a daze and asked her to comfort me. I was genuinely upset for Sachin that he didn't get to give his cityfolk a darshan of a big fat century. But God doesn't need to prove anything, he just is, even when not at the crease his presence is enough to guide us into victory, and he's done it for every match. At the theka while we were buying beer as soon as the news of Sehwag's exit was heard, people suddenly decided "bhaiyya 4 beer aur, ek batli rum aur" etc because they felt they needed booze to steel their nerves against what was to come. Except all the booze turned out to be used for celebration. I found myself (there are no atheists in foxholes, as they say) saying the shiva rudrastakam that I've heard my mother sing every day all my life, in my head, hoping that Shiva would destroy all the evil that was being chucked our way with Malinga's barely legal deliveries. When the match was ending, our yells got louder and louder, screaming our throats hoarse. At the moment of victory, following Dhoni's eyes to that gladiatorial six, all I could do was clasp my mouth and be hit by a wave of pure joy that lasted all night. I don't know what love is like, but like Patti Smith said,
"I was lost in a valley of pleasure.
I was lost in the infinite sea.
I was lost, and measure for measure,
love spewed from the heart of me."
Seeing the whole team burst with joy, crying, shouting, soaking themselves in champagne, Sachin walking around ecstatic drinking champagne, being carried, listening to his fans roar (including this guy who I love, his name is Sudhir Kumar) Kirsten being carried, I couldn't believe what was happening, I was shouting at the TV totally dumbstruck "Look, that's us! We won". And right then, Dev, Kaveri, Nish and I decided we needed to be out there, going to India Gate. We didn't think twice about being 4 girls in a car at whatever time of night it was since there were men, women, kids, families all out there.
I hugged so many people that night, from the ones I love the most to the ones I don't really care about. I high fived, smiled at, screamed in hysterical happiness with people on the streets. I have never, ever seen my city look like that. Traffic jams, always, but a jam that occurred solely because people had swarmed the streets to do bhangra in the middle of the road, never before. All the way from Mayur Vihar, to India gate and all over the city. All night. There were people spilling out of their cars, sitting on top of the bonnet, on the roof, dangling out the windows, screaming, dancing, cheering, raising slogans of "Jai Hind" and , "Sachin, Sachin", "Gali gali mein nara hai world cup hamara hai" and of course "Sri Lanka ki ma ki chut" (this is Dilli after all). We would blast a song from our car and have another car passing by shout and dance along with us. My mouth literally hurt from laughing and smiling so much, my throat is fucked from the shouting. I met a friend from college in the car opposite during this pilgrimage and borrowed a sutta and some skins. A "jeet ki mashal" was rolled and everywhere around us were kindred spirits, the smell of ganja, hashish and the sights of beer being brought out in crates from the boots of cars and being sprayed by men from on top of them. People were draped with flags, on their cars, painted on their faces, tied around them. A truck full of faujis was now dancing on the road with their guns, people were getting pictures clicked with them, it really did look like we had just won a war. There was no judgment, no hatred, no frustration at being in a jam, no anger at cutting or overtaking (there was only one place everyone was going). We bonded in jubilation with the thousands of strangers, and all walls broke down. Even the men who ordinarily would be "bhenkaloda tharki chutiya" were now "bhaiiiiiiiii!". Once we reached the India Gate circle where there was something like a victory march/revolutionary gathering/Mardi Gras taking place, NGMA was now transformed into a scene of open drinking, waiting for friends, parking cars, redi wallas selling baloons, devil horns, glow sticks, flags. People somehow parked their cars, walked towards the mothership, India Gate. How the millions in this city flocked to this monument through the workings of our collective unconscious, I don't know. I met so many people I knew, just walking down the road. It was important to just see your friends on this day that you would tell your predecessors about for generations. Some sardarji and his kids/friends were drinking beer, hugging strangers (poor Nish), forcing cops to do bhangra and listening to Lakk 28. I have never loved my city more, I have never felt more 'patriotic'. At every gathering we went to, all people could talk about was how we had conquered one and all. I got a message from my brother saying "Anhoni ko honi kar de, honi ko anhoni, ek jagah jab jama ho teeno - Rajni, Ghajini aur Dhoni" (when Sachin got out people sent messages asking why Rajnikanth doesn't play cricket) there were more jokes about "sita ke chor" but we will not go into that...Basically Lanka jala dali hamne.
Here are some very hazy pictures I took from my phone in the midst of it all.
He is the best captain we could ask for. And we have the best team that anyone could ask for, Sachin, Gambhir, Sehwag, Yuvi, Zak, Yusuf, Raina, Bhajji, Kohli, Sreesanth, Munaf (all 15 of them in fact)
And serious props to Gary Kirsten for being an AMAZING coach all this while.
I still feel deliriously happy watching this again and again.
If last time was Mahabharat, this time was
(image from here)
Sangakkara apparently cheated at the toss, too. Dekh liya na natija, hamare saath dhokha karne ka?The second half of the Sri Lankan innings and the beginning of ours left me depressed. Sehwag aur Sachin ke jane se mujhe bahut bada sadma laga. I called my mother in a daze and asked her to comfort me. I was genuinely upset for Sachin that he didn't get to give his cityfolk a darshan of a big fat century. But God doesn't need to prove anything, he just is, even when not at the crease his presence is enough to guide us into victory, and he's done it for every match. At the theka while we were buying beer as soon as the news of Sehwag's exit was heard, people suddenly decided "bhaiyya 4 beer aur, ek batli rum aur" etc because they felt they needed booze to steel their nerves against what was to come. Except all the booze turned out to be used for celebration. I found myself (there are no atheists in foxholes, as they say) saying the shiva rudrastakam that I've heard my mother sing every day all my life, in my head, hoping that Shiva would destroy all the evil that was being chucked our way with Malinga's barely legal deliveries. When the match was ending, our yells got louder and louder, screaming our throats hoarse. At the moment of victory, following Dhoni's eyes to that gladiatorial six, all I could do was clasp my mouth and be hit by a wave of pure joy that lasted all night. I don't know what love is like, but like Patti Smith said,
"I was lost in a valley of pleasure.
I was lost in the infinite sea.
I was lost, and measure for measure,
love spewed from the heart of me."
Seeing the whole team burst with joy, crying, shouting, soaking themselves in champagne, Sachin walking around ecstatic drinking champagne, being carried, listening to his fans roar (including this guy who I love, his name is Sudhir Kumar) Kirsten being carried, I couldn't believe what was happening, I was shouting at the TV totally dumbstruck "Look, that's us! We won". And right then, Dev, Kaveri, Nish and I decided we needed to be out there, going to India Gate. We didn't think twice about being 4 girls in a car at whatever time of night it was since there were men, women, kids, families all out there.
I hugged so many people that night, from the ones I love the most to the ones I don't really care about. I high fived, smiled at, screamed in hysterical happiness with people on the streets. I have never, ever seen my city look like that. Traffic jams, always, but a jam that occurred solely because people had swarmed the streets to do bhangra in the middle of the road, never before. All the way from Mayur Vihar, to India gate and all over the city. All night. There were people spilling out of their cars, sitting on top of the bonnet, on the roof, dangling out the windows, screaming, dancing, cheering, raising slogans of "Jai Hind" and , "Sachin, Sachin", "Gali gali mein nara hai world cup hamara hai" and of course "Sri Lanka ki ma ki chut" (this is Dilli after all). We would blast a song from our car and have another car passing by shout and dance along with us. My mouth literally hurt from laughing and smiling so much, my throat is fucked from the shouting. I met a friend from college in the car opposite during this pilgrimage and borrowed a sutta and some skins. A "jeet ki mashal" was rolled and everywhere around us were kindred spirits, the smell of ganja, hashish and the sights of beer being brought out in crates from the boots of cars and being sprayed by men from on top of them. People were draped with flags, on their cars, painted on their faces, tied around them. A truck full of faujis was now dancing on the road with their guns, people were getting pictures clicked with them, it really did look like we had just won a war. There was no judgment, no hatred, no frustration at being in a jam, no anger at cutting or overtaking (there was only one place everyone was going). We bonded in jubilation with the thousands of strangers, and all walls broke down. Even the men who ordinarily would be "bhenkaloda tharki chutiya" were now "bhaiiiiiiiii!". Once we reached the India Gate circle where there was something like a victory march/revolutionary gathering/Mardi Gras taking place, NGMA was now transformed into a scene of open drinking, waiting for friends, parking cars, redi wallas selling baloons, devil horns, glow sticks, flags. People somehow parked their cars, walked towards the mothership, India Gate. How the millions in this city flocked to this monument through the workings of our collective unconscious, I don't know. I met so many people I knew, just walking down the road. It was important to just see your friends on this day that you would tell your predecessors about for generations. Some sardarji and his kids/friends were drinking beer, hugging strangers (poor Nish), forcing cops to do bhangra and listening to Lakk 28. I have never loved my city more, I have never felt more 'patriotic'. At every gathering we went to, all people could talk about was how we had conquered one and all. I got a message from my brother saying "Anhoni ko honi kar de, honi ko anhoni, ek jagah jab jama ho teeno - Rajni, Ghajini aur Dhoni" (when Sachin got out people sent messages asking why Rajnikanth doesn't play cricket) there were more jokes about "sita ke chor" but we will not go into that...Basically Lanka jala dali hamne.
Here are some very hazy pictures I took from my phone in the midst of it all.
Hanging out of cars
Jhanda ooncha rahe hamara
People who had got out of their cars to dance because there was a dholwala around.
India Gate
To cheer the boys on, the girls had decided that they all looked like princes today and we would all marry them if they had won (Munaf had even shaved yesterday!). I, with my full dulan scene going on on my face, saved myself for the man of the match, who turned out to be Dhoni, good Kumaoni boy and all, too bad he's married. Almora represent!
And serious props to Gary Kirsten for being an AMAZING coach all this while.
I still feel deliriously happy watching this again and again.
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