Back home, the scene was different. Streets were empty, and the offices were deserted. The faster-than-life metropolis of Mumbai was entirely painted in the colors of cricket. People were glued to their TV sets. Mother, father, grandpa, uncles and all. Schools had been given a holiday, and many literally "bunked" their offices. By 2:00 pm, the city wore a deserted look.

There never was and never will be anything more adrenalin-pumping on the TV set than an India-Pakistan match. Every ball is a whacker. Every shot is an achievement. Winning is a matter of national pride. Whatever may be happening at the borders--whether a massive troop buildup or the Lahore Yatra, on the green oval, India and Pakistan are always at war.

And this is exemplified by history. The Javed Miandad sixer off the last ball at Sharjah was the beginning. And then the "Kangaroo" imitation of the vociferously appealing Kiran More, followed. The Mother Of All Memories is the dual between Prasad and Aamir Sohail in the 1996 World Cup. It has always been war, and always will be a war.

And in this war, at least in the World Cup, the Indian team has never ever let India down. 4 wins to date, including this rich harvest. As Chidanand Rajghatta, the eminent journalist notes, This loss marks an end of an era for Pakistan.

Indian supporters had never been so jubilant. Post December 13 and Godhra last year, the wrath against Pakistan had been on an upswing. "Nuke Pakistan" had been the vociferous cry of the Indians for some time. "Why the farce of peace talks? Why the soft-stand against Pakistani terrorists?". They demanded an answer. But the Government had shown no interest in the popular demands. They seemed to think more of the international consequences rather than the pride of India. The Centre had more Bol Bachchans than performers. The battle against Pakistan had been left incomplete by them.

And this was completed by the Little Master and his Band Of Brothers at Centurion. Indian flags were swaying high in the winds of change. The war-cries had been replaced by support and cheer. The negative attitude of revenge had been substituted by a zing to win. Confidence was at its peak, and hope was being caressed in the hearts of a billion. The stage had been set in the right manner.

Saeed Anwar’s 101 left a slight bitterness in the mouth at the end of the first innings. But Sachin and Sehwag’s brilliant start made Anwar’s efforts appear dusty and rusty. The immature Kaif and the novice Yuvraj proved their worth by lending support to their masters at crucial times. Dravid, once again, proved that in the Clash Of Titans, it is not always strength and speed that matters, but also calm, logic and consistency.

Pakistan, on the other hand, were struggling ever since the Indian innings began. Inzamam should be given credit here, for giving atleast a dozen runs to the Indians, by his sloppy fielding and sluggishness. The Rawalpindi Express became a Kurla-Dadar local in front of the Master Blaster, while the Birthday Boy Afridi was left scampering in the inner circle with Sehwag and Sachin on the pitch. As the end approached, the Pakistani shoulders drooped, their heads sunk below their waists and their fans back home must have been anguished millionfold.

In India, joy had reached its zenith. Processions and palkhis of the Indian team were taken out in the late hours of March 1, replete with drums and trumpets. Fires in the hearts burst out and into the skies. Shouts and cries and celebrations left the 10:30 deadline for functions gaping for breath. Indian tricolours came out of their shelves and flew high in the skies, even in the thin air of the night.

India was happy. The Pakistanis, who had been the source of terror, both politically and on the ground, were defeated. But as the players shook hands before starting another episode afresh, people in both nations were left wondering when this war would really end…