Galli Cricket

(Written on October 2, 2005 sitting over my IV floor balcony)

Of the many unpredictable events in the natural world, the starting and ending of ‘galli cricket’ (‘galli’ in local language means a street) would rank high.

Especially, the ending could be brought upon by a multitude of factors. Some technically correct factors like bad light or a broken bat, but there could be seemingly silly reasons like the owner of the bat is called by his (In these parts, only boys play cricket) mom or dad for a ridicule thereby ending the match or that the ball is hit straight into a coconut tree’s branches by the team’s fattest guy.

Well the coconut fiasco is not borrowed from any book or a movie, but happened today in my galli, in its premier afternoon event, the ‘galli cricket’

The fat guy wearing thickset glasses is the hitter. Incidentally, he is also the most garrulous of the lot, sincerely doling out cricket gyan, trivia and threat in proportions.

At the time that I am writing this line, the galli team is still trying to salvage the ball from the tree. If I analyze the differing incentives of these kids in trying their might to regain the ball, I make out the following:

The guy who hit it has to somehow retrieve it, or else, he will be forced to pay for the ball. Of course, once he pays, he automatically gets all legal ownership rights on this particular ball in the coconut tree domain, so much so that, at a later time, after many days, if the ball falls from the tree, this guy will still be the rightful owner.

The team bowling when the ball is hit into the tree: In my case, it so happened that the fat guy is in the team batting first. So, the other team is still due to bat. So, fetching the ball is paramount. Accounting for all the time lost in unsuccessful attempts and the final successful attempt, they will certainly appeal that the fat guy’s team abruptly close their innings (‘Declare your innings’ will be their formal appeal, btw) and let them start batting. See, I told you, there could be lots of reasons to stop a galli match, these reasons apply equally shamelessly to ending one team’s innings

Through all this drama, the batting team (yes, the fat guy’s team) is ambiguously interested. Guys in the fattie’s team, who batted and got out before the ball made its journey to the final coconut frontier, have no interest whatsoever. They will, of course, join the match, in case the ball is repossessed. They adopt an air of stoicism and relaxed detachment from the whole drama. In case the ball is not extracted, they bleat their luck in having batted before the ball is lost. And the guys who are supposed to bat after the fattie (the fat guy will be unanimously declared to be out for this innings if the ball is regained. Justice is meted out in a galli cricket setting unsparingly and immediately) are doubly interested in fishing the ball and also, claiming their eligibility to bat immediately, once the ball is safe back with them. Quick Learners, these bunch!

All the analysis aside, the guys at last count (when I finish writing this) have not yet got ball. The cricket is over for today, but the hopeful stares at the tree continue, longing for the unmerciful wind (nothing short of a gale would help, I surmise).

Wait! Somebody brought another ball. But the fat guy is persona non grata. The politics of galli cricket reemerge. I have a valuable insight, “Galli cricket is more of politics and fighting than it is cricket. But it is certainly great.” Wanna bet?