April 2: The Day Cricket Became Personal

I would be lying if I said I remember this day like it was yesterday. I was nine years old.

But I do remember the feeling of it.

Strangely enough, I probably remember the semi-final more. Because well… Pakistan. This was not a game – this was war.

Up until the Pakistan match, I don’t think I cared about cricket at all. I mean, technically I watched it. My parents watched it all the time. Like I always say – cricket is India’s biggest religion. And India vs Pakistan? A matter of nationalism.

The TV would be on, everyone would be yelling at the screen, and I would simply exist somewhere in that chaos.

I also vaguely remember something funny.

A few years earlier, before the 2007 World Cup, I had dreamt of India winning the tournament. And then… they did.

The six-year-old version of me treated this prophetic moment with absolutely no importance whatsoever. I moved on like it was nothing.

Today?

If I predicted something like that, I would never shut up about it for the rest of my life. I would open my own spirituality channel and let everyone worship me for my powers.

I remember watching that semi-final – the tension, the excitement, the adults around me acting like the fate of the nation depended on every single ball. Personally, I believe the game was one-sided… but that’s mostly because I didn’t know the rules of the game, so what did I know?

Suddenly, there was a final.

(Who could have thought, lol.)

India vs Sri Lanka.

And somehow, I was invested. If they introduced India vs Pakistan in Bigg Boss, I’d probably start watching that too in the name of patriotism.

The funny thing is, I didn’t even know the rules of cricket. They didn’t make sense.

Ball in the air? Good.
Ball in the air? Bad.

Ball outside boundary – six.
Ball outside boundary – also somehow four.

Who made these rules? How would you know when it’s a four or a six? Did it depend on the referee’s mood?

I think the first few years of me knowing cricket was just me feeling things according to my dad’s expressions – which is why I probably also thought this game was… weird, to say the least.

Catch? Bad.
No catch? Also bad.

And when India won the World Cup on April 2, 2011, something strange happened.

The World Cup became… a thing.

Not just a tournament my parents watched. Not just background noise on the television. It became something I looked forward to. Something that returns every four years like a national festival.

I still didn’t fully understand cricket.

Because apparently:
Throw fast ball? Good.
Ball go up? Bad.

And also, what the hell is LBW? The ball didn’t hit the stump — why is it out?

My baby brain should have sued someone, because cricket deserved it.

(Thank God I had grown by 2019. Imagine what that final would have done to me.)

But I knew one thing.

Every four years, the country would stop. Televisions would get louder. Strangers would become teammates. And suddenly every Indian would turn into a cricket expert.

A religious affair.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise and celebration, a nine-year-old who barely knew the rules quietly decided:

Cricket matters.

And that’s how April 2 became the day cricket became personal.