The Devil is in the Dee-tails :)

Sooo hello folks, this Tuesday I witnessed the first ever cricket match of my life and let me tell you—it wasn’t just any match. It was a Virat Kohli match. In Lucknow. Against LSG. And it felt like the whole city had come dressed in red to cheer for one man.

There wasn’t a single LSG jersey in sight. All I saw were #18s on tees, flags, even tattoos. The moment Kohli stepped near the boundary, the stadium didn’t just cheer, it roared. And Lucknow being Lucknow, the over breaks turned into full-blown desi dance-offs. Raunchy beats blaring, people dancing like no one was watching (except we all were), and yes, I may have whipped out a move or two in the hope of making it to the big screen.

And then came the game. A 228-run chase. I repeat TWO HUNDRED TWENTY EIGHT! I thought people would sit and conserve energy. Wrong. Nobody sat. We were on our feet, screaming, praying, pacing. Every ball brought chaos. Rishabh Pant decided to somersault casually, a no-ball led to a wicket, and the entire stadium turned into a war zone of opinions when a mankad appeal surfaced. Everyone had something to say. Some had fists to throw. Fights broke out. The match was tense and not just on-field, but off-field too.

The moment of the night? Kohli’s half-century. The stadium quite literally shook. I’ve never felt a cheer that loud. It wasn’t just celebration. It was personal. Like the entire crowd had a stake in this. Like they’d flown down with Kohli from Bangalore.

But for me, the game wasn’t just about cricket. My big bro had driven down from Delhi just to be there with me. And that? That made it even more special. We’re not the kind who always sit down and watch cricket together. But that night, we were two people sharing a bucket-list moment: screaming at the same sixes, frowning at the same dropped catches, laughing when someone in the row ahead spilled their Coke mid-over. And my team was there, too 🙂 Donning all reds like a community in-built for me with the same interests.

And then RCB won. With 8 balls to go. And my heart? Full. My throat? Gone. My faith in magical Tuesdays? Restored.

I finally not just get the hype. I feel the hype. The madness. The community. All of it that comes with sport. The way one person like Virat Kohli can unite a city of strangers in belief. And to me, someone who writes more about poetry, fashion, and feminism, this match was a reminder that I am allowed to be many things. That joy comes in many shapes. And that stadiums filled with red can feel like home too.

P.S. If Kohli’s playing? Don’t count me out of watching an extreme number of matches soon.