Gully cricket , once an integral part of Indian childhood, is now a fading memory. In the 80’s and early 90s, the streets were more than mere public spaces; they were stages for dreams. A bat, a ball, and a group of eager kids were all that was needed. Stumps were supported by stones, or stones themselves became stumps, or it could be a lamppost, or 3 lines drawn with a piece of brick on a compound wall. If nothing, it would be two hawai chappals that acts as wickets. A twig could be a stand-in for a second bat, and everyone played with a shared spirit. The road in front of anyone's house was open to all—a place where games, conversations, and sometimes even family functions spilled over. The essence of gully cricket was its simplicity and collectiveness. No one really owned anything individually. If one kid had a bat, it became everyone’s bat. The game was not defined by boundaries of ownership or the idea of personal space. Rather, it thrived on the joy of shared resources and ex
Comments