The days were around the end of 80s, or the beginning of 90s. I don't remember the exact year. There were cricket matches taking place in day-and-night format, in which I had found some interest. Of course India was playing; otherwise a novice like me won't have stuck to the TV.
Those were the days when our fathers asked us to go to bed at 9 PM, and we obeyed without resistance. This happened one such night.
I woke up by the sound of crackers after a few hours of sleep. Crackers reminded me of the cricket match that was on.
"Hurrah, we have won!" I exclaimed.
"No, we lost", my father was awake, and came near my bed.
"Then why are they celebrating?"
"Because we lost against Pakistan", father said.
I was confused. No matter against whom we lost, it was an Indian team that lost. How can people celebrate?
"See, the sound is coming from only one side of the town, from the area where Muslims live. They always celebrate when Indian team loses against Pakistan." Father brought me on real ground.
This particular night was not exceptional, it kept repeating itself, and they kept celebrating Indian team's loss to the Pakistani team. I didn't know the definitions of "patriotism" or "anti-nationalists"; but by that time I had invented my own definition: Any Indian, who celebrates the defeat of Indian national team, can't be Indian in real sense.
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