It was just one more routine journey to one more city for one more match. Except that this journey was from Calcutta to my home city Bangalore and the match was against the most formidable opponent we could get, Pakistan. We had just lost a match to Sri Lanka and everyone's form and attitude was down and low. Nobody was betting on us and even the staff in the airports, usually smiling, just gave us morose looks this time.
The dressing room was as dull as it could get and not even Ganja -- Ganesh, our most prolific batsman and inhouse wit -- could get a smile out of anyone.
We arrived in Bangalore and went as usual to the VIP lounge, waiting for our luggage -- bats, pads, kits -- to follow. It was a blinding hot day and the heat was glinting off the tarmac and the glass facade of the Bangalore airport -- the old defence airport, not the streamlined new one at Devanahalli. I blinked as we deplaned and quickly put on my fancy new Raybans, my latest indulgence. What else do I spend my money on anyway, other than fancy stuff to wear, eat and smoke?
''Media,'' Ratan -- our captain, fondly called Cream by the whole team -- muttered tome and went into the lounge. What media? I only saw harmless old Doordarshan, an old looking dark skinned cameraman with a huge toothy smile, hanging around as usual in the lounge. Then I caught sight of a woman in a salwar kameez, standing with another cameraman, loudly arguing with the airport duty officer that she and her camera should also be allowed in, if DD was allowed. I smiled to myself.. some small relief in an excruciatingly dull and boring day..
Once everyone got there and all the luggage had been loaded into the usual AC bus parked outside the lounge, all of us filed out and got into the bus. The small crowd which had gathered outside wouldn't be positive, I knew. The airline and airport employees had already given us a taste of what to expect. I steeled myself -- even after all these years of exposure to the public mood, good and bad, I was not battle hardened enough to deal with public criticism.
The crowd booed. Well, we knew that one. Some, however, said ''Welcome'' and ''Jai'' which I didn't expect. But keeping to my expected, public facade of the grim fellow who never opens his mouth -- yes I was perfectly aware of what the media and the public thought of me -- I looked neither left nor right, but plunged straight into the bus like all the others on the team.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the media woman again, moving quickly towards us, but she veered away and ran to her van. Well good luck, I thought to myself and moved into the aisle of the bus and sat down by my usual window seat, third row from the back. Cream, as usual, slide in next to me and I felt the bus moving through the dust of my city's airport.
The dressing room was as dull as it could get and not even Ganja -- Ganesh, our most prolific batsman and inhouse wit -- could get a smile out of anyone.
We arrived in Bangalore and went as usual to the VIP lounge, waiting for our luggage -- bats, pads, kits -- to follow. It was a blinding hot day and the heat was glinting off the tarmac and the glass facade of the Bangalore airport -- the old defence airport, not the streamlined new one at Devanahalli. I blinked as we deplaned and quickly put on my fancy new Raybans, my latest indulgence. What else do I spend my money on anyway, other than fancy stuff to wear, eat and smoke?
''Media,'' Ratan -- our captain, fondly called Cream by the whole team -- muttered tome and went into the lounge. What media? I only saw harmless old Doordarshan, an old looking dark skinned cameraman with a huge toothy smile, hanging around as usual in the lounge. Then I caught sight of a woman in a salwar kameez, standing with another cameraman, loudly arguing with the airport duty officer that she and her camera should also be allowed in, if DD was allowed. I smiled to myself.. some small relief in an excruciatingly dull and boring day..
Once everyone got there and all the luggage had been loaded into the usual AC bus parked outside the lounge, all of us filed out and got into the bus. The small crowd which had gathered outside wouldn't be positive, I knew. The airline and airport employees had already given us a taste of what to expect. I steeled myself -- even after all these years of exposure to the public mood, good and bad, I was not battle hardened enough to deal with public criticism.
The crowd booed. Well, we knew that one. Some, however, said ''Welcome'' and ''Jai'' which I didn't expect. But keeping to my expected, public facade of the grim fellow who never opens his mouth -- yes I was perfectly aware of what the media and the public thought of me -- I looked neither left nor right, but plunged straight into the bus like all the others on the team.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the media woman again, moving quickly towards us, but she veered away and ran to her van. Well good luck, I thought to myself and moved into the aisle of the bus and sat down by my usual window seat, third row from the back. Cream, as usual, slide in next to me and I felt the bus moving through the dust of my city's airport.
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