That was a friendship which I had never had. Not till that time.
Growing up in Egmore in a colony, friends were mostly my age from similar social strata, seeing the same films, playing gully cricket together. I was in my college then - year 1997. Sunday evenings were kept for only one thing: Cricket battles at Satyamoorthy Park. This park was opposite to a big well maintained cricket ground (WUS) where district matches used to happen. We used to perch on walls and watch in awe on all those professionals playing cricket in whites. Occasionally jump into the ground to throw that odd ball that came towards you and feel proud of it! In contrast, our park was infested with kids and adults of all ages sharing that small park with only one intention: Cricket. As many as 10 matches, if you can call them matches, will happen at the same time. You will need to be used to that landscape and flurry of people to really know where your game is happening. We regulars were quite accustomed to the chaos. That 2 hours of adrenaline pumping ecstasy if we win and the ego hurting pain if we lose will carry us through the regular week. Satya, Deva, Shaun, Stal, Praveen, Om, Gundu to name a few in our mid 20s were that gang - the 'Galige gang'.
And then we met Ashok and gang - the 'Local gang'
It was pure hatred at first. What started as a friendly match between our teams became an intense all-rules-bent-to-win games. And the big difference was the age factor and the social background. Ashok, Bafa, Stephen, Unny, Mani were all in their mid and late 30s. They were in the, if I might, lower middle class belt of Chennai. They were into odd jobs like a bus driver, hardware shop owner, security guard, flower shop owner. Some of them were married. So, here we were playing against people who played cricket in a way we did not understand. It was not the game for them. It was always about winning. And Captain Ashok did beat us most of the times by hook or crook. An example: Umpires are always from the batting team. So, when a batsmen hits a ball high and you bring your eyes from the ball to the leg umpire, he would also be watching the ball and the fielder below it. And then after a good 2 seconds (where he judges the probability, I guess) will bring up his right hand parallel to the ground - NO BALL! And then there will be a big fight where Ashok's gang will always have the last word. You see...we were kids before them. Some of us even start talking in English (oh my god!) in anger and will be returned with the choicest cuss words in Tamil. Only Unny (he was their Dravid!) and Mani will bring the house in order. This is just for one ball! Imagine the game then. And brought up as we were, we never got into a fist fight (we would have all been overthrown in 10 sec). And so there begin a period where we started losing constantly and it started reflecting in our daily lives. And to top it all, they were all bet matches. And our already meager pockets were being emptied at a faster rate! See how we felt...Miserable days those were!
As with all battles and wars, our rivalry ended with the most obvious and simple thing: the common enemy. Raj and his hep gang! These were the guys who were in their colleges with wads of cash and bikes. The guys who come in whites and nikes to Satyamoorthy Park (I played all my games with Slippers and Sandals with loose bermudas!) The guys who went to summer camps for Cricket practice. In short, the 'Peter gang'.
One day, there was less attendance from both our gang and Ashok gang. So, reluctantly by us and readily by Ashok (as we sponsored the money for the bet), we joined as a team and played against Raj. For once, it was good to win the game and also to see the lost look on Rajesh on all the wierd umpiring calls. They left in a huff and said they will come back the next week to challenge us. And thus started the most beautiful and hitherto unknown friendships. Satya and me, especially, became real close to Ashok and gang. The common denominator was drinks, you see. There was a pitch roller (yup!) in the park and the area behind is the bar. I still remember a game (first innings) where I was batting and Raj was bowling. He had started the run up and I moved away from the stumps and called 'wait'. Ashok was the umpire then and he immediately put his hand to stop the bowler. The whole fielding team was puzzled and so was Ashok. I walked slowly to the pitch roller; put a hand behind; took a swig (of Old Cask) and then returned to the wicket. You should have seen the look on Raj then. Ashok gave the loudest hoot ('proud of you, son') and I was named 'Chiyaan' the same day by him!
Behind those rough and tough looks of Ashok and gang, there were some sad and hard stories. Satya and me heard those once in the middle of WUS ground (yup right!) on a clear night. Ashok had arranged a party (after bribing that security guard) right in the middle of the pitch where the district guys used to play. We jumped walls into the ground and walked with our heads high (and chest thumping!). There was rum; there was beef; and there were some amazing accounts of people whom I played with all the while but never realized that there was so much underlying emotions in them. Stephen, who was the most serious person and who never laughs in the games, talked only in English (!!) about a girl he lost. Bafa (alias Shanmugam) talked about how getting on life itself was so hard. Ashok said that we young guys were always talking about girls and that is a very bad thing which we will soon realize (Nostradamus!). As Deva and Gundu came to pick us in their bicycles, both Sathya and me were blabbering something about life and philosophy!
That friendship lasted a few years. After we got into jobs, we could not give it the same attention. And such friendships don't last on mobiles or mails. I mean...I cannot call up Ashok and talk to him for even a minute. We will run out of conversations. Our relationships started and ended with Satyamoorthy Park. I don't even have a photo of them.
When Chennai 28 movie happened, Satya and me (being the emotional stupid guys we were/are) left the theater in tears. Coming to think of it now, those were tears worth shedding.
Growing up in Egmore in a colony, friends were mostly my age from similar social strata, seeing the same films, playing gully cricket together. I was in my college then - year 1997. Sunday evenings were kept for only one thing: Cricket battles at Satyamoorthy Park. This park was opposite to a big well maintained cricket ground (WUS) where district matches used to happen. We used to perch on walls and watch in awe on all those professionals playing cricket in whites. Occasionally jump into the ground to throw that odd ball that came towards you and feel proud of it! In contrast, our park was infested with kids and adults of all ages sharing that small park with only one intention: Cricket. As many as 10 matches, if you can call them matches, will happen at the same time. You will need to be used to that landscape and flurry of people to really know where your game is happening. We regulars were quite accustomed to the chaos. That 2 hours of adrenaline pumping ecstasy if we win and the ego hurting pain if we lose will carry us through the regular week. Satya, Deva, Shaun, Stal, Praveen, Om, Gundu to name a few in our mid 20s were that gang - the 'Galige gang'.
And then we met Ashok and gang - the 'Local gang'
It was pure hatred at first. What started as a friendly match between our teams became an intense all-rules-bent-to-win games. And the big difference was the age factor and the social background. Ashok, Bafa, Stephen, Unny, Mani were all in their mid and late 30s. They were in the, if I might, lower middle class belt of Chennai. They were into odd jobs like a bus driver, hardware shop owner, security guard, flower shop owner. Some of them were married. So, here we were playing against people who played cricket in a way we did not understand. It was not the game for them. It was always about winning. And Captain Ashok did beat us most of the times by hook or crook. An example: Umpires are always from the batting team. So, when a batsmen hits a ball high and you bring your eyes from the ball to the leg umpire, he would also be watching the ball and the fielder below it. And then after a good 2 seconds (where he judges the probability, I guess) will bring up his right hand parallel to the ground - NO BALL! And then there will be a big fight where Ashok's gang will always have the last word. You see...we were kids before them. Some of us even start talking in English (oh my god!) in anger and will be returned with the choicest cuss words in Tamil. Only Unny (he was their Dravid!) and Mani will bring the house in order. This is just for one ball! Imagine the game then. And brought up as we were, we never got into a fist fight (we would have all been overthrown in 10 sec). And so there begin a period where we started losing constantly and it started reflecting in our daily lives. And to top it all, they were all bet matches. And our already meager pockets were being emptied at a faster rate! See how we felt...Miserable days those were!
As with all battles and wars, our rivalry ended with the most obvious and simple thing: the common enemy. Raj and his hep gang! These were the guys who were in their colleges with wads of cash and bikes. The guys who come in whites and nikes to Satyamoorthy Park (I played all my games with Slippers and Sandals with loose bermudas!) The guys who went to summer camps for Cricket practice. In short, the 'Peter gang'.
One day, there was less attendance from both our gang and Ashok gang. So, reluctantly by us and readily by Ashok (as we sponsored the money for the bet), we joined as a team and played against Raj. For once, it was good to win the game and also to see the lost look on Rajesh on all the wierd umpiring calls. They left in a huff and said they will come back the next week to challenge us. And thus started the most beautiful and hitherto unknown friendships. Satya and me, especially, became real close to Ashok and gang. The common denominator was drinks, you see. There was a pitch roller (yup!) in the park and the area behind is the bar. I still remember a game (first innings) where I was batting and Raj was bowling. He had started the run up and I moved away from the stumps and called 'wait'. Ashok was the umpire then and he immediately put his hand to stop the bowler. The whole fielding team was puzzled and so was Ashok. I walked slowly to the pitch roller; put a hand behind; took a swig (of Old Cask) and then returned to the wicket. You should have seen the look on Raj then. Ashok gave the loudest hoot ('proud of you, son') and I was named 'Chiyaan' the same day by him!
Behind those rough and tough looks of Ashok and gang, there were some sad and hard stories. Satya and me heard those once in the middle of WUS ground (yup right!) on a clear night. Ashok had arranged a party (after bribing that security guard) right in the middle of the pitch where the district guys used to play. We jumped walls into the ground and walked with our heads high (and chest thumping!). There was rum; there was beef; and there were some amazing accounts of people whom I played with all the while but never realized that there was so much underlying emotions in them. Stephen, who was the most serious person and who never laughs in the games, talked only in English (!!) about a girl he lost. Bafa (alias Shanmugam) talked about how getting on life itself was so hard. Ashok said that we young guys were always talking about girls and that is a very bad thing which we will soon realize (Nostradamus!). As Deva and Gundu came to pick us in their bicycles, both Sathya and me were blabbering something about life and philosophy!
That friendship lasted a few years. After we got into jobs, we could not give it the same attention. And such friendships don't last on mobiles or mails. I mean...I cannot call up Ashok and talk to him for even a minute. We will run out of conversations. Our relationships started and ended with Satyamoorthy Park. I don't even have a photo of them.
When Chennai 28 movie happened, Satya and me (being the emotional stupid guys we were/are) left the theater in tears. Coming to think of it now, those were tears worth shedding.
