By Vimal Kapoor
During our school days, when we reached our teens, Sundays would invariably mean being at the sprawling parade ground. I remember the parade ground in those days as a vast ‘maidaan’ without any construction or impediments. The parade ground of Dehra is akin to ‘Shivaji Park’ in Mumbai—with more than a dozen matches going on at the same time. A motley crew of children, their ages ranging from eight to eighteen, are locked in multiple games simultaneously. The field would be like a rainbow, with various players in colourful attire playing without batting gloves and other protective gear, the essential equipment was a bat, ball, and stumps, the rest were a mere luxury. That indescribable experience of being ‘one of the boys’, as the team walks out onto the field was unique. For hundreds of young cricketers around the town, it was as if life itself had released the ‘pause’ button.
I remember amongst seven or eight of us we had one bat, two pads, and three stumps. During the so-called matches, each batsman would wear one pad on his left leg (on his right leg if he was a lefthander) and since there was one bat the non-striker would run barehanded like an athlete, he would plant his foot inside the crease at the opposite end and then turn around and sprint for the second run. If one run was scored, then both the batsmen would meet in the middle of the pitch and the bat would be handed over to the striker. To determine the batting order, we would write the names of each player on paper chits, conduct a draw, and allocate batting opportunities accordingly.
A very interesting term known as ‘baby over’ was coined. This rule was floated to pacify the eager younger siblings who tagged along. The youngsters who were generally less than 10 years of age and were not well versed at the game were called ‘anaaris’. These wannabe players were allowed to contribute to the game, but they could only bowl a baby over consisting of three balls instead of the regular six. Occasionally, to everyone’s amusement, a wicket would fall during baby over and everyone would hug and congratulate the youngster who would instantly upgrade into a ‘khiladi’ from ‘anaari’.
The run up of various bowlers was a series of hops and skips, more comical than intimidating. Usually, a ‘cork’ ball was used as it was economical and lasted more than the expensive leather ball. Medium-sized stones were placed at regular intervals to define the boundary line. The drinks interval would mean rushing off to the nearest tap and gulping water to heart’s content.
As the golden light began to fade, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple, we knew it was time to call it a day; we would gather beneath the pine trees, engaging in lively conversations and gossiping until the sun had completely set and the lights illuminated the area. We would indulge in earnest discussions about the evening’s cricket session, treating it with the utmost seriousness.
After our lively gossip session concluded, we would ride our bicycles to the Clock Tower, which was suitably located not too far from the parade ground. Right beside the Clock Tower stood a venerable Hanuman Ji temple, and just behind it is situated the renowned ‘Chaat Wali Gali’. Here, we would savour the delectable and lip-smacking delicacies. Over these mouthwatering snacks we would discuss the homework due the next day and cross-check that who had completed it. Those who had finished their homework would willingly guide and assist those who hadn’t. We would then wearily retrieve our bicycles and head home. Ahh… those truly were the golden days.
(Vimal Kapoor, a Dehradun resident, is passionate about literature, creative writing, cricket and exploration through travel)
