50 Days of I.P.Hell


50 Days of I.P.Hell

Illustration: Shruti Yatam


n my dreams sometimes, I hear the raucous roar of the masses assembled in the stands. I see them – the unruly herd, shuffling along the footpaths, their garishly painted faces locked in frighteningly ecstatic expressions. They carry with them weapons that shatter my Sunday peace: vuvuzelas, whistles, and their own indefatigable vocal chords. I am afraid. Very afraid.

The Indian Premier League may probably be the most revolutionary innovation to have hit the game of cricket in the last 20 years, but I have become roadkill on the path to the future. I have the misfortune of living opposite Wankhede Stadium, home of Mumbai Indians and land of the rowdies. And my sanity is ready to give up on me. Today, what people all over Mumbai refer to as a “home game”, I call fucking bullshit.