Living with a cricket enthusiast, one, however unwilling, does watch certain amounts of cricket and does glean a very basic (and probably erroneous – I only half-listen) knowledge of the game. Over the years I have learnt that lbw is an abbreviation and not some quaint, unpronounceable cricketing term (oh, the English !), and when a commentator talks about “dolly” he isn’t actually taking about his cousin back home. I am still lost about the parts of a cricketing field ; off-side, on-side seem much like the parts of a ship – I really don’t care which side is port and which is aft – unless of course the lifeboats are located there. My day-dreams on getting on the multi-million prize-money quiz shows on TV and winning are rudely halted when I imagine myself being asked a cricketing question.

I’m a self-professed cricket critic, which does not mean that I critique games. It means that I consider cricket an absolute waste of time.

Which does not mean that I don’t watch any cricket. I do. I watch very little cricket. How can I not ? If there is a match on, it’s on on all the TVs in our home, since my husband ensures that on the remote chance that he locomotes to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water or a pinch of alcohol ( with the Indian team’s current form, what else can one do ?) the run-rate is always within line of sight.

And while I must say that I’m a viewer of the most preliminary order, I watch (only ODIs) and not very patiently either. However an ODI taking a turn for the interesting such as the India-Bangladesh match which looked like the under-dog would present a good rebuttal instead of tamely succumbing to one’s destiny, makes good viewing. And at India’s demoralizing defeats – which lately have been many – let’s pick one – at minnow Bangladesh’s hands, I’m surrounded by lamenters who beat their hairy chests at India’s downturn and writhe and moan at the loss. Emotionally detached as I am from the game, this display of grief is actually more interesting to watch than the game itself.

I do think that we overdo the cricketing thing in India, treating the national team members as soldiers going out to do battle. It is to be kept in mind that playing cricket for India isn’t actually social service. And it’s not altruistic either. Cricketers making it to the big leagues are paid, and paid well. Hefty endorsement deals and God-like status are a given. They are not only bestowed with fame and fortune, but rules are bent to accommodate these gifted men and the cars gifted to them. I’d like to see how many of these so-called worthies, these soldiers of India, upon whose broad shoulder India’s pride apparently rests, would still be playing cricket if it were some impoverished sport, without perks.

And what’s with all these people serenading the cricket team, by singing “cricket-flavored” songs, performing pujas, and building special bat shaped cars ? What, too much time on your hands ? Nothing better to do ? Life getting too boring ? Too much money and nothing to spend it on (send me a check) ? It’s cricketing fever, and apparently it’s suddenly evaporated after India was unceremoniously kicked out of the World Cup. Now everyone’s back to their regular sport – burning buses/effigies and stoning cricketer’s homes.

All this for a team which didn’t even seem to be trying against Bangladesh. Lackadaisical fielding with nary a trot in the step, dropped catches aplenty , and uninspiring batsmanship – form was non-existent. It was even clear to me, amateur that I am, that India would lose in it’s next match to Sri Lanka. “No,” said my wise better half, steady in his faith, “India will win – they will come through. Under pressure, they will perform”. I heard the same sentiment echoed from other friends, on the phone, via email.

Apparently the boys in blue didn’t see it that way.