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April 7, 2011Posted on 04/07/2011 in World Cup 2011
Beyond boundaries
From Oindrila Mukherjee, USA
For the expat, with victory comes the realization, stronger than at any other time, of being away
© Getty ImagesTrying desperately to find a live stream for the World Cup final on the Internet that won’t buffer at key moments turns out to be an impossible task. Buffer, wicket. Buffer, six. Buffer, India wins the World Cup. Yes, it’s true that I missed some of the most special seconds of the historic final. But thanks to the illegal streaming from just one or two sources, I was able to catch most of the tournament online for free, either on a small window or a full screen with blurry images. Squinting my eyes, cursing at the buffering video, sitting alone in my darkened room on a Saturday morning in Atlanta, Georgia, I watched India reach its ultimate goal.
In the hours leading up to the final, throughout the actual game, and of course immediately following it, I found myself almost involuntarily switching between Twitter and Facebook, sharing status updates and tweets with friends and strangers. It made me feel at once part of a community, and also incredibly alone, as news of celebrations poured in from India. Scenes at the Wankhede, traffic jams in Mumbai and Delhi, party at the India Gate, crowds of people on the streets of other cities, all through that night, parties I wasn’t invited to. So near, and yet so far. The exile’s crisis in the age of the Internet.
Away from the communal environs of university, it is hard even for a dedicated sports fan to keep track of cricket in the U.S. where the World Series is played between domestic baseball teams, and where college football and basketball drive fans to partisan frenzy. While English soccer fans who live here can follow their Premier League teams in select sports bars on Saturday mornings, it’s a lot harder for cricket fans from the subcontinent – let’s face it the only cricket fans here are from the subcontinent – to find a place where a cricket match is being broadcast. It’s usually upto desi communities to organise viewings, which then become hubs for communal socialising much like religious festivals.
This year, the World Cup was available for a decent fee to subscribers of Dish or Direct TV, both satellite cable providers. For those of us without satellite dishes, the only legitimate option was to go online and pay Willow TV for live streaming. And for those reluctant to dish out (no pun intended) the fee, let’s say for a student, there’s always the option of illegal streaming from a few sources.
Of course online streaming means putting up with frequent buffering that causes the video to freeze, often at crucial moments. Still, with higher Internet speeds these days, the buffering has improved in recent times, and watching matches streamed online is better than not watching them at all. So there you are, up at the crack of dawn, hunched over your Mac or PC, trying to catch up or tune in, not only to a game, but to a cultural experience which was once your very own. When the crowd begins to roar during a bowler’s run up, it sounds just like a time capsule has arrived to transport you to another place, another time.
The moment of victory was greater than cricket, greater than sport
© Getty ImagesThe time is childhood, or adolescence, or whenever it was, the innocent age, before you left your country, before you became an expat. The place is your high school, college, street corner, local haunts, Eden Gardens, Wankhede, Feroz Shah. Wherever you sat on the bleachers or got special tickets to the clubhouse. Wherever you were with friends or family.
Since following cricket on a regular basis is so difficult in the US, I often find myself feeling like Rip Van Winkle when I do watch a game. When I’m vacationing in India every couple of years for instance or, as happened this past month, during the World Cup. I was a little bewildered by the DRS, the Powerplay, the hype around some cricketers I hadn’t actually heard of. As one who used to be an avid sports quizzer once upon a time, this ignorance is embarrassing to admit to. However, it is a fact. Cricket and I are no longer close friends. We’re, at best, acquaintances who meet only occasionally, and have to start over again.
And yet. And yet. When Dhoni hit his by-now famous six, the six that, like Miandad’s against India, will pass into cricketing legend and will be retold to future generations just as our parents, aunts, and uncles went on and on about Kapil’s unbeaten 175 against Zimbabwe in 1983, the moment, quite literally, froze. The video buffered the shot. One second India needed a couple of runs to win, and the next players were embracing and crying on the field, an anti-climax that was so predictable that it didn’t even hurt. Because that moment was greater than cricket, greater than sport. When the crowds in Mumbai erupted, when Facebook exploded into giddy exclamations of joy and shock, the tears I found myself shedding weren’t all of joy. With victory comes the realization, stronger than at any other time, of being away. My friend, Prerona, watching the match from Edinburgh, exchanged notes with me online after the match, in between updating her status. “There is,” she said, “no one to hug.”
At exactly the same time, from another corner of the world, another friend, Sandeep, reported his experience of watching the final with Sri Lankan and Indian fans at the Selangor Club in Kuala Lampur. “If someone hit a good shot half the crowd cheered as it neared the ropes, and when it was fielded on the boundary the other half cheered.”
Exile is a double-edged sword. On the one hand you feel alienated and removed from your people, and on the other you feel connected more closely to the rest of the world, to all the world. You belong nowhere, you belong everywhere.
Through the years spent watching cricket in different cities around England and the U.S., with Australians, South Africans, Englishmen, and Pakistanis, at various times, on screens of various sizes, with different results, through the ecstasies and agonies that are a part of any sport lover’s life, through it all, these memories from further back suddenly become clearer. Huddling around a black and white TV with a lot of grown ups as a little girl in 1983, watching my parents and their friends celebrate something I wasn’t quite able to comprehend the magnitude of. Playing para cricket in Calcutta with a group of boys before being dismissed SBW – Skirt Before Wicket. Going for a spontaneous drive to the Eden Gardens with the family on the eve of the 1987 World cup final to catch a glimpse of the floodlit stadium, and discovering that the entire city had had the same idea, thereby causing a traffic jam outside the stadium in the middle of the night. Gossiping with friends in high school about Wasim Akram’s good looks. Looking on from red-cushioned seats in the clubhouse in 1996 in disbelief and humiliation as a few crazy fans hurled trash onto the field to disrupt India’s semi-final against Sri Lanka.
They say nostalgia is the refuge and also the somewhat pathetic crutch of the exile. But forgive the sentimentality, for the memories have nothing to do with cricket. They are about the foods we miss, the sounds we once heard, the colours that fade. They are about family, and childhood, and innocence. Because in the end, for an Indian expat, watching cricket is like going home.
Posted by: bhadra at April 7, 2011 9:30 AM
well written :) but for me, living in malaysia, watching cricket in india is weird, because of all the ad breaks.
Posted by: Mallik Rao (Singapore) at April 7, 2011 9:58 AM
Very nice article, very well written. I did pay for a HD channel subscription in Singapore. And watched all the matches, from first ball to last ball. But missed those sounds of fire-crackers, spontaneous celebrations on the streets, etc etc. Can fully relate to what you said.
Posted by: Anup at April 7, 2011 10:39 AM
OMG .... that was absolutely incredible !!! literally brought tears to my eyes ..... I feel so connected with u as an another unfortunate expat .... U just said my story
Posted by: Sameer at April 7, 2011 11:32 AM
Go easy on 'the few crazy fans'. It is the same passion that is the reason why the subcontinent is the new home of cricket.
And no, I wasn't at Eden on 13 March 1996.
Posted by: Shil at April 7, 2011 2:21 PM
Hey, I see a name I recognize! While I can't say I share the sentiments involved, being an expat who's utterly comfortable being away from India and quite enjoys watching/following cricket on my own, that was a very evocative piece.
@Sameer: Yeah, right! As if all the people who don't behave like morons (such as Oindrila, who was evidently present at the game and didn't make an ass of herself) aren't passionate. That's an utterly specious argument.
Posted by: Sudipa at April 7, 2011 2:30 PM
Wonderfully written and really struck a chord. And yes, while we did catch the action live thanks to an over-priced HD subscription, really missed the sights and sounds that accompany a big cricket match back home. Also, hearing about the partying and celebrations, only made the sense of being away so much more obvious.
Posted by: Imran (IL, USA) at April 7, 2011 2:49 PM
Excellent article.. beautifully written with a wonderful flow; I suggest you should start writing regularly for cricinfo; I would be looking forward to more pieces like this from you!
Posted by: Madan at April 7, 2011 3:10 PM
Decent Article...
Posted by: longmemory at April 7, 2011 4:35 PM
For someone with such a deft touch with words, I am stunned the author keeps referring to herself as an "exile." No one has exiled her, she chose to go abroad for education or economic reasons. To conflate that with the experience of those who cannot return to their homelands for political and other reasons is disingenuous, to say the least.
Posted by: sajjo at April 7, 2011 6:27 PM
very nice article! im from trinidad, and watched every match. congrats to india winning!
Posted by: bhabie.roopchand at April 7, 2011 6:30 PM
i am a fourth generation Indian and i feel the very same. great match i am still shedding tears ever now and then. one of my best moments in life.
Posted by: Ran at April 7, 2011 6:59 PM
I am appalled to see that an article that promotes illegal video streaming is featured in an ESPN site. I am an expat with limited funds but my love for the game and watching legal good quality cricket was so high that I did not think twice to pay $100 to Willow TV subscription fee for the CWC and the entire year.
Note: I do not work for Willow TV nor am I promoting Willow TV in this comment.
Thanks
Posted by: ReignForrest at April 7, 2011 9:52 PM
If the internet accentuates your exile status, you should get off the internet.
I know; easier said than done!
Posted by: chirag joshi (canada) at April 8, 2011 2:27 AM
it's weird how we all feel the same emotions that bring us back to a time where one can once again smell chowpatty beach and the life at the maidan even if we are watching the game a world away. ahaha and skirt before wicket? well played..
Posted by: stu at April 8, 2011 3:42 AM
What a fantastic piece. I had, it seems, nearly the exact experience you did watching the end of a glorious win. I'd gotten home from an overnight call, had just enough in me to keep my eyes glued to the laptop for the last few overs. I'd even dished out for willow.tv's legitimate stream but it seems the quality is just as bad as webcric.com. It's even stranger for me as I didn't grow up in India, yet cricket became a part of me just like it is for every Indian during my visits to see family. Yet here I was watching the greatest win of them all, all by myself. Gratifying yet isolating at the same time.
Posted by: Akash at April 8, 2011 4:43 AM
Almost exactly my story! Though oddly, I've started following cricket even more since I moved to Canada six months ago!
Posted by: Zia at April 8, 2011 6:43 AM
completely empathise - and remember most of the Cal memories from my school days
remember watching the 2003 world cup in dhaka with very similar memories..
not sure the eden gardens was lit up in 1987 - lights were only insalled in the 90s for the hero cup I think? was at the eden in 93 for SA game and the infamous 96 semi final!
Posted by: sheila at April 8, 2011 8:04 AM
Very well written. I was glued to the TV and felt all the highs and lows of the game,and the absolute thrill of Dhoni's master finish. This is something that really brings all us expats so close to home again,
Posted by: Anupama at April 8, 2011 9:32 AM
loved the article.. Very well written !!! :)
Posted by: nicely written... at April 8, 2011 10:39 PM
yes, it's not the same but it has to suffice.
Posted by: Indrani DasGupta at April 8, 2011 10:40 PM
Same here... well written.
Posted by: Ayala at April 8, 2011 11:59 PM
Beautifully written Oindrilla! I am not a great fan of cricket but your well written piece captures the essence of how most expat cricket fans must feel while watching the game! My poor hubby.. he was hunched over his computer too watching it streaming (and buffering) over the internet in teh early hours of the morning. Our satellite card got zapped just before the game! :)
Posted by: Oindrila Mukherjee at April 9, 2011 2:17 AM
@Zia, You're right. I couldn't remember when it was we went for a drive the night before big final to see the stadium under floodlights, and the whole city was out there too. It was the first time lights were used -- 1993 Hero Cup. Thanks.
Posted by: Revanchist at April 9, 2011 7:24 PM
@longmemory - I have to agree with you. Most of the exiles from the subcontinent chose to move away voluntarily. It is true that there are a few people for whom circumstances necessitated true exile, but for the most part, these "exiles" are not deserving of the tag.
This was the only blemish in an otherwise well-written article.
Posted by: Devika Karnad at April 9, 2011 8:52 PM
Oh God, I'm crying! I wasn't yet born in 1983, but I heard the story retold so many times, it's like I was there. Our victory this year was a dream come true for young Indians, who were yet to experience the nail-biting, the superstitions, the despair, the hope, the tears, the noise, crackers, the pride, oh! No words can describe it! :') I'm 17 and I planned on moving to the US or UK as soon as I was old enough. Now, I've almost changed my mind. ;) Thank you so much, it was an amazing article!
Posted by: arindam at April 10, 2011 7:24 PM
coming of age of Oinky the author ....for a change couldn't fault U !!
Posted by: Rajiv Naik at April 12, 2011 2:37 PM
Wow that was powerful writing, Oindrila, it really was. I so know what you mean - being a quasi-exile myself (from Bangalore, living in Mumbai!), and knowing at some level that at some point in the future i might be in your position, maybe in some continental European country, i was telling myself to store up those memories of watching the final at the Comedy Store in Phoenix Mills with my friends and girlfriend and a hundred and fifty other people who also simultaneously erupted when Dhoni hit THAT six. I just know i'll need it all, even of that irritating bunch who kept chanting the same slogans of how 'India will win, Brother, she so will' so loudly that i couldn't hear the commentary! In the end all that mattered was that i did have people around me i could hug.
Posted by: Azfar Alam at April 18, 2011 10:41 AM
Very well written article Oindrilla. Having lived for 2 years in the US and now for the last 3 years in UK I can identify with many things you went through. For Cricket mad Indians like us, England is a much better place than the US. You can talk to an English colleague about Cricket. I watched the final at home on Sky with friends and I did have lots of people to hug !! The sense of anticipation I felt before the semi-final & the final and the unalloyed joy at those wins, I mean very few things in life compare to that. It brought back my childhood. Collectively as a nation I don't think anything else has made us as happy as this World Cup win. And I mean anything....not just on a sports field. When I came to office the next day, I took a colour print of Sachin of holding the cup and put on my table. I proudly told my English colleagues that we are the World Champs now. It is amazing how a game invented by the Englishman has captured the imagination of a whole sub-continent.
Posted by: Sajin at April 27, 2011 7:21 AM
A Master Piece,good writing, keep it up
Posted by: Oindrila Mukherjee at May 3, 2011 9:15 AM
Hi Rajiv, Thanks! Just wanted to point out that I had mentioned in the original unedited version of my article my experiences as a student watching the World Cup in the UK some years ago. It was really amusing to see that the people from the former colonies, South Africa, Kenya, Australia, India, huddling around the TV. But my British friends were not interested I'm afraid. they found cricket boring and old fashioned. Football was the sport of choice! Interesting to hear that your experiences were different.
Posted by: Oindrila Mukherjee at May 3, 2011 9:16 AM
My previous comment was meant for Azfar, not Rajiv. Sorry!
Posted by: jag singh at June 22, 2011 11:21 PM
great article,
there were great moments,
having travelled to wc in India in 1996,having unused final tickets in 1999, disapointed at Joberg final in 2003, been in Bardados in 2007 when team were back home, it was worth every penny to travel from Wales to have been at Mohali and Wankede, with thousands of other indians.
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