The year was 1998, my first taste of a World Cup. I was at my mother’s house in Kalamassery, Kochi, watching India take on Sri Lanka in a high-stakes league match with my grandfather. He walked me through every moment of Sourav Ganguly’s majestic 183 and the massive stand with Rahul Dravid as India piled up 373.
That day became my earliest cricket memory. My grandfather was the reason I fell in love with the sport. Cricket became the strongest bond we shared, with him constantly teaching me about the game, the players, and its history. Then came the 2003 World Cup and the heartbreak that followed. He called me immediately, telling me it was all part of cricket — India would bounce back.
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2007 was another painful year, with India crashing out in the group stage. But in 2011, as the World Cup returned home, my grandfather was certain of victory under MS Dhoni.
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