Rewind to 2012, I tied the knot and the groom’s trousseau included World Cup, T20 and IPL (CSK) jerseys. In our home, once the wickets were upon the wardrobe, we added them to divide our bookshelves between biographies of players, anthologies on tournaments, et al, and Others. No prizes for guessing, which side of the shelves are sagging. Fast forward to 2014, the husband expressed interest in walks in the neighbourhood lawns. Little did I know, he was hoping to run into the IPL players, staying in the next-door hotel. We got fitter and did run into Parthiv Patel and Muttiah Muralitharan, and thank you Lord's (pun intended). In 2020, with masks on, we’ve resumed the walks; fully aware of the bubble, and zero chances of even a fist bump in the air, with the players of CSK. We’re doing 10,000 steps a day, circling the walking track, from where the CSK’s team bus is in view. I dare not call my husband call a stalker in the national paper, so we’ll go with a fanatic, for the sake of marital bliss.
How will the IPL play out in our lives? “There has been no ‘Indian’ cricket for long. IPL in UAE is big, it’s Indian domestic tournament at its best!" says the husband, trying hard not to lament. Were it not for the situation, the man in question would be at the stadium. But then a virus can take a fan out of the stadium, but not the game out of a fan. The jerseys have been ironed out, to be religiously worn for every game, and the microwavable popcorn packets been bought. As for me, the googly in this marriage is that from September 19, I’ll be on the guard to deal with emotions that men overtly display with each ball played.