Deewar pey lagna out hai!!!

There’s nothing that can replace the sheer joy of playing cricket on a Sunday afternoon, under the hot summer sun. Perfecting the off spin, focusing on the square cut at the next delivery, stooping behind the stumps and beating your keeper gloves together, running behind a ball to save a four, arguing over a no ball. The purposeless sincerity, nail biting climaxes in a match of 40 runs, heated arguments over a wide ball, all of that made so much sense, and mattered so much to us as we grew up.

Cricket was not such a big money game yet. The dominant color was still white and terms like draw of stumps, follow on, tea break made a lot of sense. The vacant plot next to our mohalla, was host to several dozen cricket matches, on different pitches all over it. The more serious and bigger players would be playing on the actual mud pitch. Once they had marked out their area, other smaller teams and kid gangs would move in, making overlapping circles all over the place.

To the untrained eyes of a bystander it would appear very confusing. A fielder running right in the middle of a batting pitch, a batsman asking his bowler to hold on, then picking up another ball at his feet and throwing it at another fielder from another team, two teams fighting over who gets to use a spot as pitch. All of this, plus the usual cheering, shouting and periodic knocking sounds as different bats met the ball in mid-air and flung them to their destinations.

Then there were those location-specific rules. If you were playing on the outside edge of the ground, where the cars and bikes were parked, then a full shot to hit a six, meant you were out. This was to prevent the more aggressive batsmen from going for a six on each ball and running the risk of breaking rearview mirrors and windshields.

There were a whole bunch of these rules which came into effect as time, location and players required. One-tip-one-hand, was a rule that would come into effect when playing in very narrow yards, where no one would ever play a high shot. So, catching a player out was almost impossible. All would then agree that if a ball bounced once and was caught by the fielder by one hand, that would be deemed a catch out. Hence the name 'one-tip-one-hand'.

Those were crazy, uncomplicated, fun days. Entire afternoons would be spent playing mindless cricket, with the true spirit of competition mixed with joyous abandon, since we all knew that at the end of the day there was nothing at stake. Winning didn’t really matter as much as giving the game your best.

Days that today’s mobile totting, Dish TV and Internet generation would never know and never miss. The TV ate the kids, the construction industry ate the grounds, big money ate cricket, and now, only the fat old sun in the blue sky remains, waiting to hear one more time...deewar pey lagna out hai!