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Boys will be boys

This incorrigible gang savoured the best that Marredpally had to offer

FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE Marredpally old Boys relive memories of their cricket club PHOTO: MOHD. YOUSUF

Nearly half a century ago, they were christened the Young Boys Cricket Club (YBCC), by Judge Pinto whose sons were also members of the YBCC. Judge Pinto was a generous man. He watched this rag tag bunch of kids playing with a broken bat, patched up stumps and ragged pads. One fine day, he went out and bought them a whole new set — after all there were enough of the bachchas to make two teams so that they could play against each other. And play they did — regularly and religiously.

The Judge watched them too. With the newfound respectability of the new kit, the boys were hitting well. They were hitting so well and so hard that the ball would inevitably land in the next compound. The little chaps would have to climb over the wall, dodge the dog and hope like hell that young Shireen would be away in school . She was a bigger terror, as she would refuse to return the ball to them. So Judge Pinto had nets fixed up on the wall, so that the ball never crossed over again — immaterial whether a six or a four!

Now

Just a few weeks ago, the MOB (Marredpally Old Boys) had got together at Venkat's place in Marredpally. There were nearly 50 of them and most had done well for themselves. Surprisingly, not a single one of them had made a career out of cricket. Amidst a lot of hilarity and back slapping, a lot of fond memories were dredged up out of the not so distant past.

Life came full circle, as the elderly men became children again. They remembered how they would go to the hillocks - now christened Mahindra Hills - and frolic around. There were long cycle rides from one place to another.

For Mahinder, school meant a long walk. But it also meant you could scuff along a tin can or carry a stick in your hand and chase squirrels and birds. It also meant you had the freedom to flick the mangoes from the neighbour's garden or spend the day, bunking school.

For Anand and Dilip, it meant squandering away the tuition money on a film. It also meant that if they had decided to skip tuition that evening, the others had to stay till their tuition time was over so that they could go home together. Otherwise they would be in trouble.

Playtime

Play time had to get over by 7 p.m. or before sunset. It was a rule that everyone had to get home before it got dark. Even then, next to Venkat's house was this open space where they lingered on to savour the last few moments before getting back to the house.

The last bit of mischief was still there to be dredged from the day. Someone would ask for directions and one guy would pipe up: "Go straight down, on the first crossroad, take the first left, carry on, again take the first left and then again the first left!" The poor sucker would be back where he started from because all the plots were in rectangles. Of course, by then the brat pack would have dispersed!

Though many have gone away to far off lands, yet they return as often as they can. Venkat, Anand, Dilip and Behram are the connectors. They stay connected online, and through the telephone network.

They reach out to people if they have not been seen for a while. And when ever any one of the far away guys calls or sends in an email, the whole gang is there to greet him and celebrate the return with a little more elbow bending!

SHYAMOLA KHANNA

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