CONFESSIONS OF AN IPL CONVERT

Yes, I was hooked. But was I hooked enough? Happy hormones notwithstanding, left to myself, I'd be quite content to settle for watching just one match — live or otherwise — a season. But alas, no (wo)man is an island and as I'm fiercely outnumbered by an ever-growing tribe of IPL junkie friends (my family included), even if I choose not to follow the IPL, it follows me. With games beamed live each night on giant LED screens, not just as part of the party but the reason for the party, there's no escaping. Of course, the positive fallout is that, at least, my husband will agree to vacate the couch to socialise, because yes, someone somewhere will have the IPL switched on.

At home — since one cannot socialise every night — the scenario is not very different, as my husband, drink in one hand, TV remote in the other, settles down to an evening of IPL heaven with whichever of our two sons happens to be free. Occasionally, I deign to join them, but purely in the interests of preserving a semblance of marital accord. Perhaps, that's one reason why there's been a spurt in female viewership over the years. Don't take my word for it, just switch on the TV.

Be that as it may, it never fails to boggle my mind how these usually rational people who lead fairly sensible lives, mutate into single-mindedly obsessive IPL-junkies over the six to eight week season. My mother, for instance, who never followed sports of any sort while I was growing up, has dinner ready and waiting, before she settles down for the 8 pm game and woe betide anyone who calls up for an idle natter. Over the years, I've had ample opportunity to analyse the reasons for what, to my mind, is completely irrational behaviour and this is what I came up with:

... contd.

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