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By:

Waleed Hussain

4 March 2025 at 2:34:30 pm

When T20 Cricket Finally Admitted It Was Professional Wrestling with Pads

At the Arun Jaitley Stadium, Delhi Capitals committed the ultimate act of sporting arrogance. They racked up 264 for 2, patted themselves on the back, and presumably started drafting victory tweets. KL Rahul delivered a masterclass 152 not out, Nitish Rana chipped in with 91, and the Delhi dugout looked like they had just invented fire. The bowlers? They were already mentally booking spa appointments to recover from the trauma of watching the ball sail into the stands like it owed them money....

When T20 Cricket Finally Admitted It Was Professional Wrestling with Pads

At the Arun Jaitley Stadium, Delhi Capitals committed the ultimate act of sporting arrogance. They racked up 264 for 2, patted themselves on the back, and presumably started drafting victory tweets. KL Rahul delivered a masterclass 152 not out, Nitish Rana chipped in with 91, and the Delhi dugout looked like they had just invented fire. The bowlers? They were already mentally booking spa appointments to recover from the trauma of watching the ball sail into the stands like it owed them money. Enter Punjab Kings — the team that treats every run chase like a personal vendetta against bowlers’ self-esteem. What unfolded wasn’t cricket. It was a carefully orchestrated heist, a stand-up routine where the punchline was delivered in sixes, and the audience (Delhi’s bowling unit) was left questioning every life choice that led them to this moment. Prabhsimran Singh swaggered to the crease like a man who had already won the match in the parking lot. 76 off 26 balls. Nine fours, five sixes. The powerplay? A grotesque 100+ runs of pure, unadulterated violence. Bowlers weren’t just getting hit — they were being publicly shamed, their economy rates dragged through the mud and left there to dry under the Delhi sun. Priyansh Arya joined the carnage, and suddenly the target of 265 started looking as intimidating as a “Wet Floor” sign in a flooded bathroom. Shreyas Iyer, the dignified captain, played the role of “responsible adult” with 71 not out off 36 deliveries. In any other match, this would be carnage. Here, it passed for calm stewardship. While others swung like they were trying to chop down trees, Iyer collected runs with the serene expression of a man wondering if he should order paneer or butter chicken post-match. Punjab polished off the target in 18.5 overs, six wickets intact, seven balls to spare, and the sort of casual swagger usually reserved for people returning overdue library books without a fine. The broader satire writes itself. Modern T20 cricket has become an arms race where the only loser is the concept of a “respectable total.” Bowlers, once proud warriors, are now glorified ball-fetchers in a batting-dominated circus. Pitches are flatter than election promises, boundaries shorter than Gen Z attention spans, and rules so batter-friendly that even the umpires look sympathetic. Delhi built what should have been a monument — a glorious 264 on a road so true it could have doubled as a highway — only for Punjab to drive a monster truck through it while blasting horns and waving at spectators. Cricket purists are in full meltdown mode, huddled in dimly lit rooms, clutching faded copies of Wisden and muttering about “the good old days when maidens existed.” Commentators exhausted every superlative in the English language and resorted to incoherent screaming. Social media, naturally, lost its collective mind. One half celebrated Punjab as gods of the new era; the other half demanded a return to red-ball cricket, preferably with uncovered pitches and bowlers allowed to glare menacingly without fear of a demerit point. This result wasn’t merely a win. It was a cultural reset. Punjab Kings, long the lovable underachievers of the IPL, have now authored the top two highest successful chases in league history. They’re not just winning matches — they’re embarrassing the very idea of defending a total. At this rate, future IPL auctions will see teams bidding for “bowlers who can at least pretend to try” while batters demand appearance fees for showing up. Delhi Capitals deserve a special mention for their contribution to this farce. They provided the perfect setup: a record total, star performances, home advantage, and the quiet confidence that physics and common sense would finally prevail. Instead, they became the straight man in Punjab’s comedy routine. Rahul’s heroics? Reduced to a footnote. The match? Less a contest, more performance art. In the end, this is what we’ve come to love and loathe about T20 cricket. It’s loud, ridiculous, utterly devoid of restraint, and endlessly entertaining. Bowlers may demand hazard pay or form a union. Traditionalists may threaten to boycott. But the crowds will keep coming, the sixes will keep flying, and records will continue to fall like overpriced IPL franchise valuations. Punjab Kings didn’t just chase 265. They chased away any remaining illusion that this sport still resembles the gentleman’s game our grandparents watched. In its place stands a glittering, chaotic, six-hitting machine — and honestly? We’re all better for it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check the points table. Apparently, defending anything above 200 is now considered radical extremism.

Dependence to Self Reliance

Updated: Mar 10, 2025

Gunita Malhotra
Gunit Malhotra

While getting married when she was barely out of college, Gunita Malhotra, 62, would've stepped into her new life with dreams of a happy life with her husband. But life had other plans for her, plans that were far from easy to deal with. Raised in a Punjabi family where she was shielded from any troubles, Malhotra rarely made her own decisions. The elders in the family took landmark decisions for her. But it was her father who ensured that his young daughter was made aware of financial matters and even encouraged her to complete her graduation, much against his wife’s wishes. Malhotra’s mother wanted to get her married but the young woman stood her ground, and with her father’s support, completed her post-graduate degree in Microbiology.

 

Her engagement day was when she first met her husband. “I had no clue how my husband looked or who he was. I saw my husband for the first time on the day I got engaged to him. I was 21. But I was lucky; he was a thorough gentleman,” says Malhotra. Three years of a dream-like happy marriage went by. Within a year of marriage, the couple was blessed with a son and Malhotra’s life revolved around her child and her home while her husband ran the family’s hotel business. Like her maternal home, here too, she wasn’t involved in any important decisions made in the family and quietly followed the path chosen by her husband or his parents. She wasn’t aware that her husband was undergoing a severe health crisis. “My husband used to visit the hospital. My in-laws took care of everything from logistics to finances. I took care of the house and my child. I didn’t realise the seriousness of my husband’s health, since I was always kept out of all the major developments. I felt blessed at that time that I am not involved in too many responsibilities, but now I regret it,” she says.

 

Her life was shattered when she was informed of her husband’s death. She was barely 24 at that time and had a baby to look after. “I froze when I saw him. I was clueless what I would do without him,” she says recounting the hours after her husband’s death. “Later, relatives asked about my plans ahead. In my mind, I was thinking that I didn’t know how to think. I had never thought about any major decision in my life. Others had done all the thinking and planning. This sudden painful freedom of being able to think and plan my future was traumatic,” she says. Malhotra was helpless.

 

Once again, her in-laws made the decision for her.  “Within 13 days of my husband’s death, I was asked to visit my parents’ place. I gladly got ready, took my son, and the driver dropped me to my mom’s place. I asked my driver if he would come to pick me up at 7 pm. His response was, that he was only instructed to drop me and was not given instructions of getting me back,” she says.


This led to a heated discussion at her home, with relatives brainstorming on ways to sue her in-laws for sending their daughter back in the most insensitive manner. Malhotra’s father was the only one who taught her how to take the right decisions in life. “When all the relatives were furiously criticising my husband’s family, my father called me inside the room. He said, beta you have only one child. You can raise him on your own. Start finding a job. You are an educated woman.” That was the motivation she needed as a young widow.

 

Armed with a degree in Microbiology, Malhotra got a professor’s job in a Mumbai college and later, taught in a few schools. She wanted to be independent so she loaned money from her father and moved out into a house of her own where she lived with her son. She started teaching students and her coaching class picked up pace. The demand increased to an extent that neighbours started complaining of inconvenience. This prompted Malhotra to move to a bigger house and then into one that was even bigger. “My father always guided me, but encouraged me to be self-reliant. He never gave me money, but instead, taught me the concept of a loan,” says Malhotra.


Apart from coaching classes, she has also set up and successfully ran an international school in Worli for nearly 10 years. Like most working mothers, Malhotra has had her share of guilt while raising her son. “I have left him alone at home on several occasions, but he never complained. When I lost my father, he consoled me. When I told him he would never understand my loss, he replied saying, I lost my father and my mother too. When a caregiver becomes a breadwinner, the child loses both. However, my son has never cribbed, never complained, and never blamed me on any occasion. He has always been proud of me,” she says.

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