Abhi Toh Mein Jawan Hoon

From left: Siladitya, Sandip, Soumyadeep, Mansoob, Me, Saptarshi, Nayan

"You can take the man out of a boy but never the boy out of a man."

While I'm finally here to give shape to my thoughts, my shoulder still hurts. I can barely walk a single step without trembling and stumbling in pain. But it's all worth it. That exciting week before the match, those last minute discussions that seemed as important as BCCI team selection meetings, the night before the big game... some old men in their late 20s and early 30s couldn't sleep well in excitement.

This was not just another get-together outside office. It was a chance for most of us to show our tired backs and dead brains that we're not getting old and there's a life outside clients and deadlines. We dropped easy catches, ran like we were chased by wild bulls, hit sixes only to realize that our wrists were begging for mercy, took valuable wickets and supported each other like brothers from the same mother. It was like finding a place to breathe after spending almost 11 to 12 hours daily in office. That too, with the same team. People who only exchange words about deadlines, files, client meetings, software, projects, and all the other boring things in the world, suddenly found themselves in the middle of a green field patting each others back and high-fiving.

I wanted to thank my entire team for giving this quickly-getting-old guy a chance to share the ground with the local kids once again, after 8 long years. So the next time my mind tries to convince me that I'm getting older, I'll remember this match and say with a gentle smile, “shut the fuck off!”

Now if you excuse me, I'll have to go and take a painkiller.