The curious case of improved catching.

The folowing article has been written by my dear friend Kaipa Kartik.

Usual Suspects:

Chintoo == Afro == Me

Chacha == Himanshu Govil

Ikka == Piyush Srivastava

This one is about cricket which will henceforth be referred to as phatta henceforth(for the uneducated this is the game in which Chintoo hurls a round object at Chacha who is holding a stick some way off), friendship and ultimately so much more. Its tough to know where to start this piece so I suppose it would be best to start at the very beginning.

It began in the summer of second year. I was just walking back to my room when Chintoo shouts or rather comes up to me(I think it was one of the above. Can't be too sure. and asks if I want to play phatta. Now those were the days that I wasn't much of a cricket fantatic. Chacha and Chintoo have changed that quite drastically though. Theek hai I said. Little did Afro know what he had bought upon himself in the near and far future.

So we begin playing. I face the first ball and to my, everyone else's and especially Afroz's utter surprise I get my left foot to the pitch of the ball and play a cover drive that would have made Rahul Dravid proud. As Andy Zaltzman said it was as if Wally Hammond's red kerchief was hanging out of my pocket and Viv Richard had taken over my soul. Of course normal service was resumed next ball when I played all around a full toss only to see the stumps displaced.

So once that perfect cover drive was played, a lifelong fascination for the game of cricket was sealed. I would play phatta with loads of enthusiasm(which means making an effort to move) though without the ability to match. Usually I would fail but the days that it came of were glorious. (You tend to value things more when they happen infrequently, a hard learned lesson from phatta).

Having been a middling player for around two years, my game happened to take a most unexpected jump in the fifth year.(Everything seemed to happen in fifth year for some reason, the best meals, loads of reading and movies, the best of times, the worst of times, placements and of course sleeping). In fifth year for some strange reason I was actually able to hit sixes(Although admittedly the boundaries were short but a six is a six nevertheless(especially when you have been struggling your entire life hoping that the ball finds the middle of the bloody bat))

Another very strange thing happened. My fielding improved almost to the point where I couldn't recognize myself and truthfully speaking my fielding became absolutely spectacular when Afroz was wielding the bat. I don't know why this happened but it happened nonetheless.

Now Afro is an angel off the cricket field but an absolute devil on it. With the ball in hand I think he would bowl beamers at Mahatma Gandhi if angry and only God can save you if you get him run out. (People have tried and have just about managed to escape within an inch of their lives.)

It started off innocuosly enough. I don't recall who the bowler was but it was a heavy ball and Afro absolutely knocked the cover of it. So the ball is coming straight at my throat. I think of moving but no, my hands move before my feet, Before I know it the ball is nestled safely in my fingers as if its found its home and there is no where else that it would rather be. Clean as a whistle, of course there is no way I would drop the catch, the ball seems to be saying.

Sometime later, Afro hits a ball in the air. Everyone thinks its a six, everyone but me of course. I run across, probably jump higher than I ever have and take it one handed. Of course its clean. The poor ball doesn't have a chance. Afroz is livid, but he controls himself. Perhaps he reminds himself that a friend is a friend he reminds himself no matter what he does on the cricket field.

Around five days later I move to a different position on the field. The one where Afroz doesn't usually hit the ball to give the poor fellow a break. I have tormented him enough. The very next ball the ball is hit towards me. I need to run forwards for this though so I run. Someone else is backing up but I still run forward. He's blocked my view now, the ball just escapes his grasp but of course yet again the ball has absolutely no chance. Its home. Unfailingly the ball follows a path from the bat of Afroz to my hands(which are all but butterfingers where other batsmen are concerned). He drops the bat, there is a murderous glint in his eyes. He runs after me. I run to save myself. Thankfully he cools down during the chase and leaves me alive to write this.

Besides the catches there were fours stopped, all balls coming to hand without as much as bobble as long as it was hit from the blade held in Afroz's hands and as you might be able to guess I was never able to field half as well when someone else was batting.

The scariest times for me were those in which Afroz was bowling and I was fielding. I was quite literally holding on for dear life.

On another related note Afroz for some reason tends to bring out the inner sporting hero in everyone. When Afro plays badminton, Ikka plays much better and Afro is probably the only guy on campus who has been beaten by Ikka.