The Cricket Spirit in Tennis

This piece isn’t about cricket. The word ‘cricket’ is not part of my usual vocabulary and the probability of finding it in my writing is low, if not very low. This piece is about tennis. What does one have to do with the other? I was surprised to find out last Sunday when I set out to catch the Women’s singles final of the Bangalore Open 2008. While I’m not a tennis aficionado, I do enjoy the game, having ‘technically’ played it while at school. It would be prudent of me to call out here that many, especially some former schoolmates, would disagree whether the skill displayed could be called ‘playing tennis’.

So, when my dance classmate, Asha suggested we go, I jumped at the chance. I hadn’t watched an international tennis match for atleast 4 years and I was excited to watch the top seeded internationally acclaimed Williams sisters clash at the final. Only later [but thankfully well before the day of the match], I learnt that Venus was out of the running and it was going to be Serena Williams Vs. Patty Schnyder, the latter being a player who had received surprizingly huge PR coverage from the minute she landed in Bangalore. That is to basically say I knew who she was.

Asha and I got there early at 4.30 pm to catch some 'good' places at the D stand of the KSLTA courts. We needn’t have bothered. It was the section right near the main court where the match was to take place and most places were available and ‘good’. Which meant we could clearly watch the Chinese players practising their game. Plus I carried my parents' famous mini-Russian binoculars, ideal for such settings. The crowd was of a decent size, compared to all those “unmarked seating” events like music shows and matches of other sports where a good seat is by no means unavailable unless one comes hours early.

It was equally peppered with both Indians and foreigners but as the match hour of 6 pm drew close, the crowd grew substantially. The almost reverse Wimbledon colours lent a cheery spirit to the courts and when Serena and Patty made their appearance on the courts, the loud shout that accompanied them made us realize that the stadium was packed. There were avid supporters of both players, complete with their posters, flags and all the paraphernalia that goes with cheering.

To folks who enjoy tennis like us, it was a pleasure to see such a huge audience for tennis and a noise level that supported it. Relevant since currently in India, cricket eclipses all other sports and encompasses the share of voice and mind of people and media in such a way that there is just no thought for any other game. Hearing and seeing everyone so caught up in the spirit of tennis was heartwarming to say the least, especially since I don’t care much for cricket. I personally think that the frenzy and mindless obsession that accompanies every cricket match, irrespective of level or standing, is such a waste of time ...the IPL auctions of staggering amounts and its possible impact is entirely another chapter. But that is my personal opinion and really, a tirade against cricket is an even bigger waste of time.

Back to the courts, the game commenced and soon we were following the champs in action. The strength of Serena was clearly visible and her game was marked by her power-packed serves, her grunting, her ability to race to any part of the court and play her return shot, her anger and frustration at her almost constant giving away of points through her net shots. All this is contrast to a cooler Patty – her leaner frame fighting the power sent her way with a seeming ease, surprising Serena with her shots and making her struggle in the first set.

During the breaks, we engaged in the usual stuff we tennis types do – chatting with neighbours on the play, chanting those pro-player slogans, posing for the TV cameras, focusing on the page 3 folks in the players box [the entire Williams clan, esp Venus’ elaborate pendant, Poppy Williams scribbling away and clicking away alternately, Kiran Mazumdar, etc…all details thanks to my binocs], commenting on the players’ outfits and ofcourse, checking out the crowd and chatting non-stop.

Somewhere in the middle of the game, the crowd began shouting – a cricketer, Sreesanth had been apparently spotted. Focus went back to the tennis players thankfully. Post that, during the breaks, Sreesanth waved to the wildly cheering crowd. The kids hovering around him for autographs continued well beyond the breaks, much to the chagrin of a lot of spectators. He got up to leave, well before the match ended which seemed to indicate that his presence there was some publicity exercise and not prompted by the love of the game.

To the surprize of many, just before Sreesanth left, during a break in the crucial 2nd set, the commentator began interviewing him. Apart from his comments on the ongoing match, his views on the previous/ upcoming cricket matches were sought against the background of the loudly cheering crowd. The players who had their backs to the action, so anxious with aspects of their play and the way the match was going, didn’t turn back once to see what the hullabaloo was all about. Whether or not the players raised their objections about this mid-match disruption, cricket in the midst of tennis was in such bad taste – ironic in the face of the pure tennis euphoria we had experienced before. Asking questions from someone who didn’t even stay the entire game was one thing. Asking questions on cricket was another. Next, we use breaks as a PR moment to ask celebrities some questions – "Ms Shaw , what's the latest breakthrough in bio-technology", "Mr SM Krishna, your election strategy for the Congress?", some model his latest assignment, etc. What made it worse was that it was not before the match but during the match, albeit in the 1 minute break.

The racy game brought us all back to the core of the sport. It was overall a great match and Serena won the title. Vijay Amritraj’s words at the prize giving ceremony had the crowd rooting for both players. The entire experience was somewhat dulled by the cricket fiasco in the middle. It’s not as though cricket didn’t outshadow every other sport in India in real life, now we also have to live with the ghost of cricket stepping into tennis territory. And that, my friends, is the spirit of cricket! In tennis. Only in India. Love it or hate it, one jus can’t deny it.

December in Hyderabad


At the onset, let me state upfront - I like Hyderabad - its tourist spots, its restaurants [Chutneys, Yatri Nivas, Hyderabad House…yummy!], its focus on infrastructure, the grand plans for the city. Even the climate in winter. I loved driving around Hussein Sagar lake with its all imposing Buddha statue in the centre of the lake, pelting a few snow balls in Snow World, posing with Batman in Ramoji Film City, soaking in the arty culture at Shiplaramam, and letting loose the shopoholic in me [thanks to the extremely reasonable prices that the city offers]

It was great to hear strains of Telugu in Hyd - the local language in the state – I think on a sublimal level, it invoked memories of a childhood spent in Vizag [a port city in the same state for the unaware lot]. Hyderabad now is home to one of my closest friends, way back from school and a journey there was destined to be basked in the warmth that friendship usually carries and an abundance of reminiscences and good times.

I booked myself on the overnight train to Hyderabad. I’d been wanting to travel by train for some time now [the long hiatus being a consequence of my erstwhile corporate life and the resultant scarcity of time] and the effort to reach a boarding station on the suburbs of Bangalore paled in comparison to the excitement. I made it to the station of Yeshwantpur in record time. It was past 9 pm and traffic had visibly reduced. I was scared stiff, travelling alone at night in a city cab and my hand was constantly near the redial button that was hooked to reach home. Bangalore is relatively safer than most cities in India but hey, one can never be too careful. Luckily my cabbie got me to the station, safe and secure and in a ironic turn-around to a scary situation, asked me to call home and inform my folks so that they wouldn’t be worried.

The train journey was best forgotten. My 2nd AC berth was an upper one with two AC ducts, one near my feet and the other near my head. Either ways, the cold air was going to pump onto my face. All around me were elderly people, who seemed happy with their lower and middle berth allocation. I couldn’t ask them to switch berths! Somehow, I struggled till the morning, the blankets provided by the Railways being grossly inadequate. When the train chugged into Hyderabad, I greeted my friend with the worst nose block and cold that I had had in years. Add to that, the temperature changes I experienced in the last 4 days…humid Bombay to cold Bangalore to brrrrr colder AC train to definitely warmer Hyderabad ….one can understand how my immune system just gave up. Just a welcome start to the city of Hyderabad, I suppose.

The 5 days I spent there were delightful. Everyday, in between my doses of Cetirizine and Crocin and maniacal steam inhalation of Vicks, we would set out on the road, armed with our cameras and mineral water, ready to do all the things that tourists to the city typically do. In between all the fun and Hyderabadi biryani, I noticed certain peculiarities of the city.

The first, without doubt, is its traffic. The city has mounted an elaborate exercise to build flyovers and widen its roads to keep pace with the huge growth that the city is experiencing. It takes a minimum of 45 minutes to reach any destination and the maximum is anyone’s guess. Sure, it could happen in any city but what is different here is people’s attitude on the road. Blatant disregard for signals, moving on the side of the road reserved for oncoming traffic, everyone cutting everyone, lanes …what lanes? Well, it’s a such crazy movement of people and vehicles that makes one wonder what the traffic circles are all about. I landed in Hyd’bad on a Sunday and presumed it had something to do with the holiday slack. Never mind my theory, I saw this everyday. One morning, I saw groups of people zooming triples on bikes, almost like a motorcade and cops not even batting their eyelids at this scene. This, in its entirety, is unique.

The second is the loos and their state. I went to one of the best malls [Central] and needed to use the restroom. The high footfalls in the restroom meant we had to wait a some time for our turn. Inside there wasn’t any toilet paper and alarmingly, was about 3 inches of water on the floor of each of the cubicles. As my friend and I rolled up our jeans in a flood like situation and waited for the cleaning lady to do her job, I learn from the lamenting cleaning lady, this wasn’t a one-off incident. It invariably happened all the time and wasn’t the result of bad plumbing. It had to do with women who used the loos and their irritable habit of flooding the loo floor. Yes, I know…eeeeks! But undoubtedly unique.

The third is undisputedly its people. It was during my visit to Ramoji Film City that this incident occurred. It was nearing closing hours, sometime before the studio’s elaborate daily closing ceremony. There were dances being performed in various parts of the studio. We were in the games area when I came across a young Naga lad, wearing his traditional garb around this waist. His chest was bare, except for a belt tied diagonally across his chest and his outfit extended till his knees. His look was complete with his head band, which was adorned by some feathers.

As he came towards me, I asked him where his dance was being performed. He politely replied and moved away from me. An elderly man behind me stopped him, putting his hand on the lad’s bare chest and asked him in Hindi, ‘haii, tumhe kidhar dekhathe’ [crude Hindi that literally translates into hey, where are they showing you?]. Needless to say, the Naga lad was scandalized, shrugged the gentleman’s hand off and rushed away, without even responding. The look of shock on his face of being in a sense propositioned was a sight to see. The entire sequence was hilarious to say the least and we, the three of us, were left laughing a long time. The elderly man, in all probability, just wanted to ask where the Naga dance was being performed. It was the same question that I too had asked, but his Hyderbadi accent and more importantly, his manner of saying it had truly turned the situation into an immensely humourous one, atleast for us.

While most of us are familiar with the Hyderabadi accent of speaking Hindi, the use of Hindi in that crude way was something unique. After I narrated the above incident to a Hyderbadi friend of mine, he laughed heartily and assured me that the comment was quintessentially Hyderabadi. I rest my case.

The last incident is my view of the historic Char Minar. We struggled to find parking to see it at leisure. We finally conceded to driving around it twice or thrice. Beautifully lit, it jostles for space amidst a crowded bazaar like atmosphere. Never mind the parking, that we managed to circle it relatively peacefully, dodging the hawkers, merchants selling their wares and people out on their daily shopping expeditions, is no small feat. It indeed is sad that something of so rich a history is languishing in the back of a market. I didn’t see any of the usual attempts to create secluded space for viewing that is now common with such monuments or any restoration activities. This too seemed unique.

The laurels are now distributed, I’ve shared my key experiences. That they don’t throw a favourable light on the city is incidental. Hyderabad is a great city, one with a rich history. And one with a bright future. I look forward to my next trip there with maybe ;) more laughs.