Mysore in October is the place to be. The nine-day Dussehra carnival's crescendo is best witnessed in the city of palaces. A state holiday adds to the colour and festivities. The tradition grips everyone, but the cool air that signals the onset of the winter feels infectious. So, there is little chance of a cricket match hogging the limelight on Vijayadashmi, an auspicious day in the Hindu calendar.
For all its evolution into an IT hub, Mysore is still widely regarded as a pensioner's paradise. Not surprisingly, you invite ridicule when you hitch an auto-rickshaw ride from the bus station to the Gangothri Glades Stadium, now named after late Srikanta Datta Narasimharaja Wadiyar, a scion of the Mysore royal family. Distances here are measured in kilometers, and not time, like it is in big Indian cities.
The sight of the stadium amidst lush greenery paints a pretty picture. A handful of spectators are seated in anticipation of a Virender Sehwag special. So what if he announced his retirement? His popularity has not dimmed one bit. That Karnataka are bowling first has no effect on them. The grass banks are free for all, but students from the adjacent Mysore University campus prefer climbing the compound wall to enjoy an uninterrupted view without the metal fencing affecting their line of sight.
Given the city is a regular pit stop in the domestic calendar, preparations for the game would have been like any other first-class match. But that, of course, is in an ideal world. Sehwag is no ordinary cricketer. He revolutionised the art of Test match batting. The bamboo sticks erected to support the Shamiana even in parts of the ground that are normally left baking in the sun were the first signs of this being a "big game."
It was clear that the fans, who Sehwag termed as his "greatest partners" in a heartwarming, yet typically jocular farewell media release, were going to lap up every minute of his presence, on and off the field.
"Here was Karnataka collectively being booed in their own home for the love of one man. Perhaps, therein lies the magic of Sehwag. Someone who thrilled and entertained the entire spectrum of cricket fans irrespective of nationalities, counties, states or clubs"
As shots started flowing off Sehwag's broad blade, the crowd swelled. Suddenly, security personnel were seen hurrying to get the metal detectors installed. Power sockets that were nowhere to be seen miraculously made an appearance. There were not enough plastic chairs to seat them all, but the fans did not mind.
Perhaps this sight was last seen in Mysore during a charged-up Ranji Trophy final between Karnataka and Mumbai in the 2009-10 season, a match remembered as much for the acrimony as it was for the thriller it turned out to be. Similar scenes were witnessed in Ghaziabad three winters ago, when a star-studded Delhi boasting of Sehwag, Gautam Gambhir, Virat Kohli and Ishant Sharma took on Uttar Pradesh, who had Suresh Raina, Mohammad Kaif and Praveen Kumar in their ranks.
Back then, close to 10000 fans squeezed into a venue that could seat half that number. While it was not as cramped in Mysore, the buzz was palpable. Lahli too deserves a mention, for the sleepy little town created a noise like no other when Sachin Tendulkar arrived to play his last Ranji Trophy game in October 2013.
Sehwag, the man at the centre of it all in Mysore, was a symbol of calm. He did not have dark shades to mask his eyes. The unwieldy noise-cancelling headphones were perhaps lodged deep inside his kit bag as he went for a casual stroll around the ropes soon after being dismissed, before settling down for a casual chat with a few of the Karnataka players. His fans may or may not have relented to his Twitter plea at the Kotla last week, but in Mysore, they were there by the hordes. Not for nothing did he put "bums on seats" more often than not. Of course, all of this was for free. No tickets, no queues, and water bottles were welcomed with a smile to help fans deal with their parched throats. Of course, no one seemed to mind that one bit.
Sehwag did not ignore his team-mates amidst the craze. Batting tips were given, and light throw-downs were taken. Of course, the intensity of his drills were not the same. The trainer did not seem mind, for once, even though his warm-down and recovery took a tad longer. But Sehwag looked every inch a man who did not have the pressure of expectation, something he admirably handled every time he went out to bat for India.
Amidst the Sehwag chants, Karnataka - the home team, and defending champions with stars of their own - felt a little lost. Catches were dropped, half-chances were missed, and their bowling largely, lacked the bite. All this amounted to a Sehwag party for a better part of the first two sessions. The whip off his hip, the nonchalant slap over cover, the ferocious trademark cut shot, delicate dabs and upper cuts were all out in full glory over the course of the day. With every stroke, the cheers only got louder, so much that the crowd was not appreciative of him risking delicate singles to mid-off.
Screams of 'No Viru, no' soon did rounds. And then there was some liberal heckling of David Mathias, the debutant, for attempting to unsettle Sehwag with bouncers. When Sehwag miscued a lofted hit over the in-field, there were chants of 'drop, drop' even before the fielder moved in the direction of the ball. When HS Sharath threatened to throw the ball at the striker's end after a straight drive was hit hard at him, he was booed.
Here was a team, winners of two successive domestic trebles being collectively booed in their own home for the love of one man. Perhaps, therein lies the magic of Sehwag. Someone who thrilled and entertained the entire spectrum of cricket fans irrespective of nationalities, counties, states or clubs. It was a welcome change from giant concrete blocks of the bigger stadiums echoing every word uttered in the middle that makes for poor advertisement of domestic cricket.
Apart from their fanaticism for Sehwag, the knowledge of the fans stood out too. Jayant Yadav, who played a pugnacious knock after his early reprieves, was recognised as a Delhi Daredevils player. Of course, the cheer was muted when he reached three figures. But once both batsmen were dismissed after a mammoth stand, the mood changed. A collective cry of anguish that accompanied Sehwag's dismissal made way to plaintive pleas to Vinay Kumar and Sharath to do something.
Strike they did, towards the end of the day with Sharath picking up a hat-trick to trigger a sensational collapse. In isolation, it was one of the few moments of cheer for Vinay's boys on a long and grinding day when Sehwag single-handedly stole the show and charmed the city over with his 'see ball, hit ball' philosophy that has brought him immeasurable success for a decade and more.