Going back to Eden Gardens

The last time I had been at Eden Gardens was to watch a match between India and Pakistan. It was a Test match and Shahid Afridi had bashed up the dignity of all the Indian bowlers left, right and centre. As in all Indian families, cricket is considered almost hermetic and the results dependent on totally irrelevant and illogical coincidences and superstitions. So since I had been on the field that day, everyone beginning from my parents to friends assumed that by a great turn of fate it was my presence; yes my presence and not the shameful presentation by our bowlers, which led to such a grand batting show by Afridi. Yes, I agree that I had been a bit, a tiny bit, loquacious about Afridi. However that could not have led to such results, rationally speaking. When it comes to cricket, none speak rationally.

Anyway that is not the point of this article. Last evening I went to Eden Gardens again. This time there was no national sentiments attached so I believe my family did not create a huge quandary just because it was not a match which India was playing. It was just another Kolkata Knight Riders match, and according to old school cricket watchers T20 is not cricket at all. It is a curious and vulgar mix of cricket with crass entertainment not the classy and king's sport which they would love to watch.

I don't care much for that, for me it was more going to Eden Gardens than watching a match. Honestly I had not hoped we would win. The fact that we did was great, but I had had no hopes.

However the spirit of T20 at the Eden was absolutely brilliant. The crowds going on an endless Mexican Wave loop, totally drooling at the cheerleaders, comely aunties breaking into a jig at every fall of a wicket, people accommodating totally irritable kinds on their lap so that they can watch the match, totally nondescript urchins doing an impeccable lip sync to Black Eyed Peas, trying to spot Katrina Kaif, shouting out at Kallis as if he were their school friend, hugging complete strangers after the victory.

There was just one not-so-feel-good incident which happened. The crowd at Eden has some great inexplicable, primitive almost hermetic relationship with the basic elements. Earlier there would torches at the home turf victory. Fire-checked. Now it is the water. After that famous World Cup debacle with SriLanka, taking bottles inside the stadium is strictly prohibited. Now they sell water in pouches. Yes plastic pouches with water, which people hold up to their mouth as if it were a conch shell they were blowing announcing the commencement of some epic battle lost in the sands of time. Now just as Manoj Tiwary started showering runs some smart guy had the bright idea of spreading the water around. InHindu tradition we have a tradition of spreading Holy Water on people after worshiping God, which is called "Shanti-r Jol" or "The Water of Peace. Now we did not really mind all the water being sprinkled on our heads that scorching March evening when someone got carried away and started throwing the pouches. Now a plastic pouch with water filled when thrown at random with certain amount of force and comes and hits a person can be quite a pain in the neck (as a friend of mine was to literally experience). So after this small H2O carousal, the policemen came into the picture and beat up a guy pretty bad.

Though some would say it was pretty harsh on the boy I think that was the only way you can control a crowd at Eden. So the water revelry subsided for some time.

The fun and real charm though was when the match ended and we cleared the stands. At a distant cha-waala's shanty at off Esplanade you could watch the lights at Eden; Like diamonds on the embellished tiara of the princess they shone. A stadium spectacle is a more ancient tradition than a proscenium theatre, and even more ancient than the movie theatre. Perhaps in its primitiveness lies its ability to bind people closer.

In a movie theatre the experience is collective but the performance itself is thrice removed. It is based on some story which has been acted in some studio whose one singular copy is being shone on this particular screen. The theatre, as in a proscenium where a drama is enacted is twice removed. However a stadium, like the Colosseum where Gladiators would fight, is the most ancient and truest performance/entertainment domain. Yesterday, at Eden Gardens what unfolded in front of us was not removed from reality. It was s sport whose every future second unfolded in front of us as much as it was unfolding in front of the players who were on the field. Sourav Ganguly or Rahul Dravid had no inside information on what was about to happen next. This inherent quality of sport makes it the most cherished of all entertainment mankind has known.The nail biting finish, the collective sighs and ecstasy is to be found nowhere else.