A New Indian Imprint

For over a month, Indian Premier League has been the rage in South Africa - at least in Johannesburg, Pretoria, Durban, Cape Town and even in the smaller towns of Bloemfontein and Kimberly. Nearly 50 T20 cricket matches later, the tournament comes to a close in a couple of days. Hordes of people have filled up each stadium. Each match is an event, a family one. It isn't so much about cricket. In fact, in the one match I saw, I hardly got to see any cricket. There are no close ups (of course), no replays (the first time someone misfielded, I instinctively waited for a 'replay'!) and, from a distance, most of the players are anonymous. How was that I did not recognise Brett Lee, one of my heroes, even as he stalked the boundary line? The noise, the din, the songs (Indian pop music belted out with gay abandon), the lights, the fireworks, the 'Mexican waves', the hooter that was designed to invite a roar from the crowd, the dancing cheerleaders, the waving of flags, the placards that demanded another four or a six, the signs that tried to be witty enough to catch camera's eye, the announcements made by the DJ and the easy availability of beer and braii and coffee - all made it a party. I cannot think of many things that would have helped India leave a bigger imprint in South Africa.

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