For flag and country

Mahesh Patwardhan

He was behaving strangely.

I asked him why.

He blabbered; he blubbered; he threw a fit.

Yes, my friend Arikavetti Piccollo Bhomsandran was a nervous wreck when I met him this morning.

His company was sending him on an assignment next month. Which meant he would miss the Test match between India and Australia.

Well, you might ask why, when there is the TV. Why would missing one match be the end of the world for him?

For Arikavetti Piccollo Bhomsandran, missing a match is the end of the world.

For as long as I can remember, he has attended every cricket match hosted by our town. He has, on these occasions, exited this planet and entered his own personal twilight zone, metamorphosing into something I have always had a hard time defining. Mind you, I did attempt once to figure out what transpired through his mind at such times. Only to quickly find that the risk to my life and limb was very, very real.

Nonetheless, it was interesting to watch this guy bouncing off his seat whenever the ball was whacked off the stadium and into East Africa by a batsman he had elevated to godlike status. I have seen him go insane with grief when this batsman got his stumps shattered into 64 little pieces by a rampaging bowler. I have seen him charging into the grounds when the same batsman reached magical figures. I have seen him seethe with rage whenever a visiting batsman dared get into the same pummelling act. And I have seen him burn down entire portions of the stands when the Indian team stood at the brink of defeat.

This is a man who feels strongly about his national team. Loves his national team. Will spend sleepless nights strategising and analysing on their behalf. Will pray to every power known to ensure its victory. He can be forgiving; he can be ruthless.

And come a game, he will be out there, screaming himself hoarse, willing the team on.

This is a man who is not alone. There are thousands like him.

What is it? What is it that keeps Picco and others like him convinced that the Indian team can do no wrong?

Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I ask. Sometimes I get answers. But every time, I get more confused than ever.

There is the issue of statistics, which they either conveniently choose to ignore, or maybe are unaware of. Little facts like when was the last time the Indians managed a win away from home? When was the last time that we won a series of some significance away from home?

I tell my friend that the last time we won a match abroad was in Sri Lanka in 1993. "I know," he says.

I say that the last series win of any significance away from home was in England in 1986. "I know that, too," he says.

I ask him, does it not bother him that that was the only win we have had abroad for 14 years? His answer is a tangent, involving various conditions, factors and analytical insights that I cannot begin to understand.

I do understand, though, that here is a man who, despite our team's performance away from home these last 14 years, still has immense faith in our team. Convinced that his team is numero uno on this planet.

Maybe some day, when my own thought processes are not so cloudy, I will begin to understand the internal ticking of Picco's mind.

Till then, I will continue to watch Arikavetti Piccollo Bhomsandran's wild moodswings and bizarre behaviour. And attribute it to whatever unknown force it is that takes over his persona every time a cricket match comes to town.

Design: Devyani Chandwarkar