Yes, it is a nostalgia piece. #Only90sKidsWillGetIt
Remember those roads less travelled which we turned into a pitch, with a piece of chalk or even a broken piece of an earthen pot? Three stones made up for a rather accurate width of a wicket, and for the height, all of us had our imagination. Remember how surprisingly most of the ‘pitches’ we selected allowed us to open our arms in only one direction (mostly straight)? Even though most of us instinctively played towards the leg side. What was more surprising was the fact that hitting the ball really hard actually got you out, and the punishment was to climb the fence, sneak into the house of a neighbour, which obviously housed a dog (Breed: Dachshund, Name: Laddu). Remember your heart beating out of your chest?
No pads, no gloves, no helmet (LOL, what do you think we were, rich kids?). We were tough enough to take the hits of a hard tennis ball (yes, the red one) and shake it off.
Remember waiting all evening for your turn to bat and not getting a chance after all? Remember swinging the bat to accidentally hitting the ball for a six? Remember that oh-I-didn’t-think-I-would-make-it-but-it-seems-like-the-ball-is-stuck-in-my-hands-and-now-my teammates-are-celebrating catch? Remember feeling like a hero?
Remember using Rajnigandha pack for a toss, because sometimes even a one rupee coin was a luxury? Remember how you had a better understanding of the phrase ‘money can’t buy happiness’ back then?
Remember that post-match scolding by your mother and post-match-post-scolding shower? Remember feeling fresh and contently tired at the same time as you waited for dinner?
Remember going to bed thinking about how you will repeat your success the next day?
We remember a lot, isn’t it? What I can’t remember is why I always thought I needed to become an adult to feel like the king of the world.