What a Catch!

In the regimented days of the early nineties, Mihir grew up doing sums as he followed an ODI closely. Even as logs could not catch his visible attention, a "What a catch!" from the commentator would immediately do. He watched the replay and wished he could perfect one at the matches played on neighborhood evenings. Neil was an expert wicket-keeper, and Gautam was reserved with the accolades of spin bowling, while the only girl in the team, Meghna was the toughest to get out once she took to the crease. He despised them all. Qualitatively, not quite at par with either, this was natural, but quantitatively, the emotion he displayed was quite the opposite -- no one could ever doubt that he hated his friends. When an Ajay Jadeja would stop a sure four at point, or Jonty Rhodes fly like lightning to the ball, he would imagine himself winning that cap, the best fielder around. None of them took their cricket seriously of course. It was, just a part of their scheduled evenings, when they had to go out and play. Anything. 

This afternoon, as he managed couple of passes to the W20 finals, in one of the premium stands of the Eden Gardens, he looked back into those evenings. Strangely, the hatred for them was deep instilled, even though he was the joke-cracker in their WhatsApp group 'Cricbuds'. He reclined on his VP's leather chair, and wondered what would each of them be doing this evening.

Neil, in Delhi, would be drunk in a bar, or stoned in his room, listening to The Beatles, or speaking with a friend on Formula One, or hunt the kitchen for food. His inheritance assured he need not work, and that kept him happy as a freelance wildlife photographer. Gautam, in Bangalore, actively managing his restaurant, right from the kitchen to the cash. He did well in life to graduate from being a dud to opening his own roadside stand of Assamese cuisine, and taking it up to where it stood now. And Meghna would definitely be going through her academic journal, at her room in Hyderabad, that must be sending her already renowned status of being a brilliant professor, further upwards. She would also, deftly build a salad to the delight of her diet. God, he hated them all. From inside his air-conditioned cabin, from where he could whip a command at anyone, he knew in his heart, they were all doing what they loved. 

His lifetime dream of hearing "What a Catch!" assigned to him did come true, on many occasions, such as clearing the JEE, studying at an IIT, and getting that job at Larsen & Toubro to begin his career with. As he looked out of the window of Jindal Group, he asked himself if the one that earned him the loudest applaud actually mattered to him, like the rest.

The fax came in. Tickets for Mrs & Mr Maitra for the Finals were confirmed. Meghna would hate it, that she would have to travel for a game, but she would also love the fact that she could watch Virat Kohli, perhaps another match-winning innings. And though he hated her for batting best, he got the loudest cheer when she had agreed to marry him. "What a Catch!" everyone had chorused. Their innings is cherished by everyone. 

Mihir straightened his tie, dialled Meghna's number and wondered if it would be correct to say 'everyone'.