Nov 19th
 
Wow! Finally I can breathe! The house was full to overflowing with guests coming from Delhi, Rewari, Gurgaon, Noida, Ghaziabad and Sonepat. Why on earth was Sunday Nov 18th so special? Well the weather was pleasantly cool and most importantly; the final one day cricket match between India and Pakistan was being played in Jaipur’s SMS stadium.

So the city turned into cricket maniacs. The local Hindi newspapers were splashed with news and trivia only about the impending match for days. Although most of the higher rated tickets were available on-line, the lower denominations got sold out in minutes. There were people waiting in long serpentine queues from dawn to get the tickets. There was a separate counter opened in the university for the students. Police had to resort to mild lathi-charge to contain the hoodlums.

Friend’s friends’ their children or relatives all came in droves and we were busy playing the perfect host serving quick lunches and teas to all our guests much to the agony of my rather slow and lethargic Raju. Even the part-time driver and maali chipped in, serving water and carrying back empty glasses from outside.

We were hurrying them on as there was near stampede like situation near the stadium. No mobiles allowed, no eatables, no banners and yet people’s enthusiasm was not dampened. On TV we watched the glamour set descending with movie stars and celebrity announcers in stylish goggles cheering the loutish and undeserving cricket team.
No nothing helped them they lost ingloriously to the Pakistanis. The stocks of firecrackers left-over from Diwali remained sadly untouched. We had thought that since all matches are fixed this one would have a predictable cliff-hanger ending with a victorious India. But this one apparently didn’t follow the prescribed script. So we didn’t see the usual fireworks.

And the kind of chaos that prevailed in the press box and the VIP boxes was worth filming for prosperity. The local cricket association (in this case Rajasthan Cricket Board) that organizes the match normally gives out passes to senior police officers in lieu of the security provided?

The passes are much sought after and the local SP/DIG has to field the deadly balls with the skill of a juggler. Since most officers have unending demands- I need five passes, yet some others want 10.  Some mercifully are content with 2 and 3 passes only. I vividly recall how Puru as the (under pressure SP) would be cursing all the senior bosses freely for making these highly unreasonable requests.

It goes without saying that I loved watching these matches and preening myself in the VIP box fully aware of the discomfiture of my husband’s colleagues wives. It was my day. My husband was the one who was looking after every one’s security and dispensing with the passes. The most important man around. Kitty and Pootchie weren’t interested in the game at all but loved to be seen in the VIP box cheering the team. They had access to the cricketer’s changing rooms and managed to get autographs of all the cricketers, both Indian and the visiting ones. Besides they were specially invited for the party and dinner hosted for the teams. Pretty young girls; that also the daughters of the DIG were much in demand. So they could coolly boast of the blast they had at such parties to their envious friends.

One cricketer actually turned obsessive about Pootchie! Yes I agree she was precocious in tenth. Pootchie in low cut tight jeans and mid-riff showing top was quite attractive. Tall, slim and fair the exact adjectives one uses in a matrimonial ad does describe her quite fairly. Besides being talkative with flashing eyes and cascading long hair at fifteen she was normally the cynosure of all eyes. She should have pleased a mother’s heart, yet I was always scared. Scared of what? Scared that she would be distracted from her studies- which she was. Pootchie loved music and she sang fairly well. So the usual rounds of finding her ‘good teacher’ ended in strings of young sickly looking gurujis accompanying her on tabla. Till she found Pandit Jagnath of ‘Jaipur gharana’ fame. Then she appeared more involved in learning her ragas rather than her periodic table. She learnt to sing the old Hindi songs loosely based on semi-classical ragas and would leave most people impressed.

She participated in some music talent contest and was selected till the semi finals on some TV channel. That made her some sort of a celebrity and having gone all the way to Bombay she was not quite herself for some time. And this was in class eighth. Kitty had also inherited her father’s tall good looks but not the captivating charm. It was easy enough to cause a rivalry bit surprisingly they were good friends.

Coming back to the cricketer one was surprised to see huge bouquet of flowers arriving on her birth date of each month for over a year. She used to be thrilled and when I frowned or appeared disapproving she would sulk and say that I was jealous as I never received such flowers! I thought the knowledge that she was the daughter of a cop was a sufficient deterrent. But Raghavendra appeared to be a tenacious wooer. I kept hoping and praying that some starlet would divert his attention.

One afternoon I discovered Pootchie sobbing and crying in her bathroom clutching a gossip magazine. I managed to get her back in the room and reading the offending article I thanked god for answering my prayers! The news item reported that Raghavendra had become officially engaged to the daughter of Maharaja of Bhogalganj. She appeared pretty and confident as she smiled into the camera.

That brought the imminent board exams the focus of Pootchie’s life and for some time cricket was banned from our lives.  We concentrated on the musical reality shows and cookery programmes instead.