My Cricket

In winter when the schools were closed in Simla and Solan we went to my father's place in the plains of Gangetic India or rather Yamuna plains.
It used to be very cold and we had children of other relatives all having holidays.
We had cricket amongst the cousins and nephews and neighbours.
I developed my batting and bowling accuracy in a narrow brick paved lane where there was no one staying.
It was our family's area where they had some godowns for grain and straw for the cows and buffalows.
Occasionally we would relish the freshly cut sugarcanes which came on bullock carts from our joint family's fields.

We were in Simla for a short period.
Shimla is the capital of Himachal Pradesh.
I was a student at Jesus & Mary convent for a few years.
We had no cricket here if I remember correctly.
When we moved to Solan further down in the Simla hills on way to Kalka we had cricket.
In the school we played cricket in the very small ground surrounded by valleys or "khuds".
Near the house there was another small ground and it too was surrounded by deep valleys.
We played enjoyable cricket here too.
The only problem was that if someone hit a good shot it would end up somewhere down the valley.
The fielding side would have a tough job clambering as fast down the valleys and then clambering up as fast as possible huffing and puffing.
The reason being that due to the rules made the batting side would not treat the shot as a four or six but go on taking as many runs as possible till the ball was retrieved and brought to the bowling crease.
Then there was a small ground just below the building of a Marwari Seth which later became the first office of the HP Agricultural University started at solan.
Here I remember playing with a rubber ball and perfecting a shot which took the ball on the rise and sent the ball over ones head and over the wicket keeper's head to the back of the ground usually for a six.

As a baby in the arms I must have watched out with my tiny eyes far on to the green grassy ground and wondered what the men in white were doing.
My father loved cricket and made it a point to watch all the test matches he could.
So it is little wonder that when I grew up a bit and went(was taken) to a sports goods shop I would not settle for a plastic bat and ball.
I selected an English willow bat and the red cherry(the real hard red coloured leather ball).
I loved the thump of the willow bat on to the red hard leather ball bowled to me by my father on the green grassy lawn on the side of our house.
Those child hood days playing real cricket are fond memories of a place and of my father who is up there some where among the stars.