Sachin’s 72 off 27 balls. Bangla Desh’s collapse in the last
three balls of the innings. Australia sending the English back. None of these
cricketing events evoked the kind of feelings that I experienced in the lanes
of the Loyola College Hostel when I was there a couple of days back.
We were just driving back from the Mess where we had shot a
few nostalgic pics when we bumped into this scene. At first it looked just like
a bunch of guys playing cricket on a Sunday afternoon.
But then I noticed that they were playing with a plastic
ball and their skills, even to my untrained eyes, were suspect. The batsman was
swinging wildly and missing more balls than necessary. And the fielders were a
totally uncoordinated lot.
The enthusiasm of the players however made me take a second
look at them.
Just as the batsman was touching and feeling the make shift
wicket, the bowler was announcing his delivery. He would throw the ball and it
would bounce with a biggish sound. And the batsman would time his swing.
The wicket keeper who was sitting behind the batsman would
enact a stumping without having made any contact with the ball…and without the
batsman even stepping out of the crease.
When I looked carefully I realized that the players were
all, with just two exceptions, blind. Or as they say, visually impaired.
How they were emerging from the depths of their darkness and
playing in the silvery light of the afternoon sun amazed me. The sound of
laughter brought tears to my eyes.
And I understood how the batting was being done. The bowler
called. And chucked his ball. The ball bounced on the pitch. The batsman heard
the sound and then decided where the ball was coming from. And let go with a
shot Sachin would be proud of.
And then wonder of wonders. One of the players got a catch.
The thrill. The joy. Suddenly the players were all laughing,
jumping. Sachin had been dismissed.
I watched the match for a few more minutes. And I saw that
this was indeed a magical sight I’d witnessed.
Innocence won the match. And I became a fan.