Gaali danda

Matches are usually played in spring or autumn, when it’s comfortable to sit out on the terrace; often they are a part of wedding festivities, or an occasion for celebration, so that there are enough participants to form two teams, along with those comprising the captive audience.

The two “captains” — acknowledged leaders in the game — go around soliciting players, usually seven on each side, from among those having experience in this field. Once the teams are chosen, a spacious terrace or courtyard is selected, pitchers of cold water brought to the venue and, at the appointed hour, both sides — and of course the audience — take their places with referees in the middle and the match umpire on an elevated railing or ledge.

As the umpire lifts his right index finger, one of the captains starts with a filthy expletive. The audience mutters sounds of appreciation. Then the other side replies with a worse invective, which is also suitably acknowledged, sometimes with a standing ovation. And so it goes, with each team coming up with successively longer and more atrocious compositions.

Soon the noise that is generated reach grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Things build up as the audience gets boisterous, the referees more sanguine, and the umpire is made acutely conscious of his own importance as the time for the final whistle approaches.

Every now and then, players are allowed to take a swig of cold water from the water pitchers kept for the purpose. Indeed, it’s considered even more auspicious to paani pe ke gali dena (swear as you drink water).

Once the result is announced, the warring team members suddenly become friends. There’s much hugging and backslapping, while the winning captain proudly invites everyone to a feast. But the bonhomie doesn’t last long — only until the next match begins!