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As the day trudged on towards the evening, you could feel the excitement build. People were hurrying back to their homes. Trust me, people hate to even miss the toss when there's such a contest in the offing. On my mind though, when I gingerly stepped out of office, there was a fear - the fear of getting caught in the nasty Bangalore traffic. But the fears were to be allayed just as fast. I realized most people had chosen to pull their shutters down after lunch. I set out for home, happy to see roads free from traffic jams - a pretty sight for a traffic jam-hardened commuter like me! But on my way I figured out that I was in some danger after all. I suspected, the average speed of every vehicle on the road must have at least doubled compared to those on other days (I don't want to talk of average speeds on Bangalore's roads just because they're too abysmal to be talked about). Every person driving a car seemed to have none other than Michael Schumacher on his mind and every bike rider a Valentino Rossi. The overtaking manoeuvres would have put either of the great men to shame, for sure! They sure gave me some jitters. I still had to make some detours on my way home, courtesy of a few inevitable traffic jams.
Happy to be home, I was even more delighted to see India moving towards a healthy score.
As I watched the match with my family, we were joined by our "quiet" neighbors. Well, that impression of mine was going to change for ever. Watching cricket matches at home is kind of a stoic affair - no screaming, no jumping around, just making comments, if at all any. It wasn't going to be the same this time around. They cheered everything, with cheer meaning anything from a loud prayer to the top-of-the-voice scream. The lady especially wanted every ball India faced to be smashed for a SIX and wanted a WICKET off every ball the Indians bowled. Given that we were watching an absolute sea-saw battle, it only got more boisterous. With the match getting more and more closer, I who'd thought had nerves of steel as far as watching cricket was concerned began to realize they were more fragile than I'd believed. And I presume the same happened to Misbah Ul Haq who loooked like taking Pakistan home to an unlikely victory, when, out of nowhere, he lost his nerves and played a "stupid" shot only to gift the Cup to the "Men in Blue". That was greeted by the loudest screams and the most thundering jumps that I had witnessed at home. Outside, it seemed as though Diwali had arrived a good two months early! It was Team India's biggest victory we had witnessed. As they say, for a country that eats, sleeps and drinks cricket, it was just the day that was ample testimony to the fact that India is now the rightful home to the Englishman's Game.
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