Sunday 3 April 2011

2nd April, 2011

Last night more than one and a half billion people waited eagerly for what would be the clash of the host teams. The 2011 World Cup brought into its finals a strong Sri Lanka and a powerful India. As eyes remained fixated on a game that didn't end until the final six, restless hearts beat praying for their country and their team. A fight that was contended till that final moment that really could have gone either way. Moments of vigour and moments of despair, as fear and excitement battled it out and at moments when my faith would shake.

As I sat surrounded by friends who watched the game, my heart beating faster with every ball, every boundary, every wicket. Joy at the Sri Lankan wickets, fear after ours. Tears filling up at those early wickets of Sachin and Sehwag, and tears when Dhoni smashed that final six.

Last night was a night of nerves, of thrill, of fear and mostly of passion. I don't pride myself on being a big cricket fan, but last night I was proud to be an Indian. I sat glued to the television, superstitious in my black, praying at odd intervals, trying to reassure my faith. I gave up, like any typical Indian at one point, but I remembered that this country of 1.2 billion people was holding its breath with me. Cricket fans or not, the country stopped to pause and watch what was a glorious victory.

The night was filled with frantic SMSs and calls to my mother who reminded me to hold onto my faith and believe and the twenty years of being a commentators daughter kicking in. In a family where everyone possesed that love for sports, I felt like the black sheep. Last night I felt passion and love. I felt pride and amazement as the Boys in Blue became the Men in Blue. I may for the first time not have the words to express my sentiments about cricket. A sport that this country thrives on, where Tendulkar is God and where we all Bleed Blue.

This cup was ours from day one, and now it's shine will illuminate the entire subcontinent.
2nd April, 2011 will be a memory etched in every young Indian as the first time they saw their country hold the World Cup. It will be a day that generations ahead will reminisce over 1983 and feel that pride and joy for the second time in their lives. A morning filled with restlessness only brought to ease by a stunning victory. It will be remembered as the historic day when for the first time a host country kept the Cup.

So here's to that victory. The victory that was not only celebrated by those eleven men led by their captain, but a victory that is celebrated by one billion twenty one million people as their hearts swell with pride. To the World Champions. To India.

Jai Hind!