Just before my exams started, the 2015 World Cup’s cheer was in the air. It was almost as if the whole world had stopped at a certain point, just to see those exquisite cricketing shots by the famous cricketers by any means on air. Where ever you may have gone, in India, every street is ignited with a fever of its own, the fever of cricket. No matter how small that area of play is, it’s unlimited for the cricket fans playing.
I knew I had to study, but more importantly, I had to watch every match to cover up the dynamic play by the players on field. My studies do matter, but leave a match unwatched? I believe I’d be sued by myself in the court if I miss it. I believe we have a choice to make; to love cricket or to hate it. There’s no in between.
The whiff of fresh air that surrounds my body while watching Cricket is magically impeccable. It’s unexplainable. I never knew I’d someday be a cricket freak, or in the rarest cases, writing this column to brag my love for the sport coming out of this nutshell. Just as the WC approached, I knew I wasn’t gonna miss a single India vs “whoever is going play against this awesomely amazing team” encounter. And I haven’t missed out on even one yet, because my love for the game is just way too intensely legit and high.
Who said that a girl can’t love a Virat Kohli cover drive more than his haircut? Who said that a girl can’t play Cricket because it’ll probably drive her away from the archaic traditions and domestic hobbies? Who said that a girl isn’t strong enough to deal with all the insides and outsides of the beautiful game? They said that you can’t be a girl and love Cricket. While I raised up my head with pride and optimisim, whispering if not screaming, that I don’t have to be a guy to love cricket, when I know I can be a girl, and still know how to love the sport.
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