It is winter at Kolkata. With evening temperatures touching single digits, the colorful and trendy knits are out. The streetside hawkers are in full swing. And, so is cricket on the Maidan.

The other day I was riding a Behala Chowrasta - BBD Bag route minibus and was scheduled to get off near the GPO. A somewhat unforeseen traffic snarl near the Mayo Road crossing allowed me to look outside and there it was - a cricket match was being played. Full formal gear, two umpires, a scorer and even a small drinks cart. Just the way I remembered it. I got off the bus and sneaked to the sidelines. And, since I was probably one of the handful of folks who weren't known to both the teams, barring the peanut seller and the lemonade chap, it was fun watching the bantering and snide remarks that passed back and forth about fielding ability, the inability to judge the rise of a ball on the matting or, general bowling talent. The quality of play wasn't of excellent standard and, it wasn't one of the better middle division teams being fielded. But, with a wind breezing through the huge gaps in the Eden Garden super structure and, the stadium looming in the background, it made for some nice half an hour plus of diversion. The sun was light and that was probably one of the reasons to see a lot of 'keep the scoreboard ticking' shots being played. A new thing I did notice was 'the huddle'. Earlier, the celebration was more sporadic and uncoordinated. It seems that the local teams have made the huddle a part of the ritual of celebrating the wicket. Then there was the gear - the quality of the gear has improved. I don't know how much money flows in through these games but the gear was certainly branded and, kept in decent shape. Or, perhaps it is due to the early stages of the season.

All around the Maidan, there will be various matches that will be played this season. Fortunes and careers will be made and unmade, teams will be reshaped and, the league will keep moving. What is reasonably tragic is that throughout the time I've seen this happen, the matches are generally bereft of an audience. Save for those who peer out into the field from moving vehicles or, those who are stuck at a traffic signal and are jolted by the sweet sound of a cricket ball being smacked by a willow. That "thwack" is good enough to carry across the field and that is possibly what gets the hanger-ons to the sidelines.

Cricket in winter, football in summer - the Maidan provides ample means of sports. And, it goes on irrespective of the political sloganeering happeining half a kilometer away near the Metro Cinema or, the rallies forming around the Strand Road approach. No pictures this time though. I was bit mesmerized with throwback memories to try and get a few pictures. And, come to think about it, what good is a 18-55mm lens when there's is this wide expanse of straw-gold, brown with wisps of green where sportsmen are running around trying to do best what they are good at. I don't really have enough talent to make a narrative out of that kind of a landscape. Probably I'll drop by this weekend and, try to take a few pictures. I guess I should hitch a ride on a tram too.