That special match last night!

My throat is sore from screaming too much & and my palms are sore from clapping too often!

I have new respect for Nehra - for delivering a good performance when everyone doubted whether he deserved to be there.

I have new respect for Raina's composure - dude, I had to pee twice in two overs just watching you play and you were there. In the middle of it all.

I have new respect for Sachin's shoes - I can't imagine being them; imagine if people went around calling you God's shoes; the sheer weight of a billion hopes would wear you down.

I have new respect for tiramisu as a dessert - for getting India a wicket every time I took a bite.

I have new respect for Afridi - that was a good-spirited post-match speech way too mature for his young age of 20 (what, we're not sticking to that story anymore?)

Clearly, Manmohan Singh is not a person for photo-ops. He couldn't have looked more bored.

I dreamt of Mumbai last night, with people merry-making on the streets; with loud fire-crackers waking up those old folk who didn't bother staying up for the game; with its empty offices the next morning where people don't show up because they assume its a holiday when India beats Pakistan in a World Cup. And then the camera (my dreams are cinematic) zoomed in on Wankhade Stadium & there were drums rolls, colourful wigs, a thousand flags, cheers & a packed house waiting expectantly. It's been so long since these people believed in anything.