It바카라s Sunday morning and outside St Mark바카라s Church of England primary school a preacher in brown tweed, with cordless headphones and mike, is extolling those willing to listen about Jesus바카라 power. 바카라Compassion, mercy, empathy, kindness, brotherly love바카라바카라 he goes on breathlessly. But sadly for him the St Mark바카라s is right at the entrance of The Oval바카라s Alec Steward gate and today the only gods are the eleven on the field inside, with these virtues he is gushing about what바카라s least on their minds. The crowds could be the scene outside Wankhade or Chinnaswamy바카라the snatches of conversations in Hindi, Punjabi, Gujarati, Tamil, Kannada, Bengali바카라except for the black London hackneys, white policemen in blue uniform and the grey sky.
As we wait to take the lift up to the fourth floor to the Corinthian Roof Terrace, there is a chant of 바카라Sachin, Sachin바카라 and sure enough there he is a few paces ahead, neat and compact in a dark suit, his security right behind him. He turns and gives a little wave sending those in the reception area to ecstasy. Corinthian, after passing from the usher to the concierge to the lobby manager and finally to the stadium in-charge through walkie-talkie, turns out was the name of the first club to play cricket at The Oval some 150 years ago before Surrey County made it its home. This stadium is, as often repeated, the oldest in the world where cricket has been played without a break. As we come on to the terrace about an hour before the start of the game, the grand view of the stadium with both India and Australia warming up on two sides is breathtaking. Equally inviting is the smell of frying bacon, crackling sausages and bubbling omelettes wafting over the sumptuous breakfast spread. What, is that바카라vada pav? It is indeed, specially made for the India game, it바카라s more of a vada in a burger bun, but pretty close to the original complete with tamarind, coconut and garlic chutney. The menu says for lunch, apart from the heaps of cold cuts and cheeses (here바카라s a sampling from the menu: beetroot cured salmon, dill marinated Atlantic prawns, mussels and peppered mackerel served with Marie Rose dressing and saffron aioli, rare roasted sirloin of beef, terrines and pates, hand-raised meat pies, Clara goat cheese, Winterdale Kentish cheese, Oxford blue cheese바카라), there is kadai chicken, rogan josh and chhole-alu.
바카라The bar opens at 11, sir바카라 says the lady behind the counter as many start to hover in the area바카라India바카라s run rate is less than four, the ball is yet to cross the ropes, the Aussie pacers are bowling in fierce rhythm, the nerves are jangling. Just as the first ale is poured, Shikhar Dhawan cuts one to the boundary, the dholak in the stands downstairs reaches a crescendo of bhangra beats, and the crowd erupts in a blue wave. In between overs, it is Yo Yo Honey Singh and Guru Randhawa on the ground PA system. If Australia too has a pop song culture, it is not audible today. Suddenly, runs are flowing as freely as the lager from the tap, goblets and flutes are brimming as much as our openers바카라 confidence and the fruit juice counter is looking as askance as the Oz fielders. Dhawan바카라s century is greeted with champagne, and as the heady pair of Dhoni and Hardik Pandya is all set to take the total well beyond 300, the difference between stout and ale starts to blur.
Two English lads바카라Ian, bulky, balding and boisterous in an oversized hoodie, and his friend Rob, thin, redhead, reticent in a well-cut blue suit바카라with large mugs of Pimms next to them are having their own game. They look like spies in the enemy camp surrounded by the blue fatigues of the Bharat army. In the Australian innings, as Aaron Finch and Steve Smith take charge, Ian suddenly gets up and screams 바카라Sixer, sixer바카라. Rob pulls him down, asks him to hush, looks panic-stricken all around. When Finch actually hits a six, Ian is up again, cheering 바카라Go, Australia, go바카라. Rob gets up and calms him down, bowing to those near him for his friend바카라s behaviour, smiling sheepishly. It바카라s an act they put up, the only Aussie supporters in this congregation of the devout, and the Indian fans around them join in the camaraderie. When Finch is run out, a bunch of them break into a jig next to them. As the game slips away from Australia, Ian and Rob quickly switch sides.
After the game, as the milling crowds wait for taxis and buses, we spot a family of six 바카라real바카라 Aussie fans dressed in their team바카라s colour, walking somberly with their heads down, looking for transport. All the black cabs have their taxi lights off as it seems they don바카라t want to pick up a fare in this melee. One with lights on turns the curve and a group of Indian fans jump at it to flag it down. The Australian family is right behind them, there is a little huddle among the Indians, the decision is quickly made, and they offer the cab to them. There바카라s a round of hand-shakes and the Australians are on their way.
