Up north, sans language or cap

May 8
First trip to the north of India, armed with shards of Hindi borrowed from cricket commentary on the radio. Not too sure "shandaar shot" will help me with asking for directions. Trawl the internet for information on Raipur. May is the hottest month. Temperature on the day I land is forecast to hit a high of 43°C. Paste notes about packing my cap and sunscreen all around the house. Predictable facepalm moment en route to the airport when I discover I've forgotten both.

The Swami Vivekananda Airport is astounding. Great walls of brick, steel, glass, and all-round posh. Read that it was one of the richest cities in India. Am standing in the evidence. Even if it is 15km from the city and out in the wilderness. Search for the tourism desk. It is unmanned, and most of places in the pictures aren't quite in the city.

Fifteen seconds is all it takes on the drive for a first glimpse of the IPL - Yuvraj Singh, Manoj Tiwary, Albie Morkel and a couple of other Delhi Daredevils on a billboard. The same one crops up three seconds later. In the air-conditioned cab, I'm busy revelling in beating the heat.

May 9
Just couldn't keep from gloating, could I? The mid-day sun stalks me now. But the bustle of Raipur offers enough distraction.

The capital of Chhatisgarh looks more like a township striving incredibly hard to keep up its disguise. Little mom-and-pop stores everywhere, their wares spilling onto the street. Shop carts line the roads, selling everything from fruit to clothes. I'm reminded of a hard-working student concerned only with getting an A in the next exam. Hear that Raipur's iron and steel resources are unrivalled in the country.

I'm meeting a contact for match tickets. He is in town for the IPL as well, a scorer and statistician from Vidarbha. He tells me he has worked in cricket all his adult life. Laments that he wasn't able to become an umpire. But then taps his chest and says, "It doesn't matter. It's the love of the game."

The ground is over 20km away, nestled like a crown jewel in the government's pet project - Naya Raipur. A railway station is planned. More bus routes are planned. The chief minister is hoping to make the capital a thriving hub of modernity. And if his visions are similar to the Shaheed Veer Narayan Singh International Stadium, it will be. Grand, imposing, one of the largest in India. Also, a long walk from the main road. My poor legs.

About two-thirds of the 50,000 seats are full. There is dancing. There is cheering. There is heckling. There is a lust for the camera that threatens decapitation. The cricket is almost a sideshow. They spot the absence of the spidercam and the Pepsi VIP box sooner than I do.

May 10
Cons of broken Hindi: getting lost, missing out on jokes, and haggling is impossible. Still no cap for me. Pros: an auto-rickshaw driver mistaking me for cricketer. I drop a few names and show him a picture taken with Graeme Smith. He nods and scowls: "But isn't that the bad coach?"

Outside, the traffic befits a capital, and the people have pieces of cloth tied around their heads and torsos to ward off the heat.

I hide out at a restaurant that calls itself Food Xxpress. The room- service menu at my hotel asks me to "dail 777". I wonder if I can make typo-eat a trend.

May 11
"Pease Pulaw" is on the menu next. And more roaming.

Chhattisgarh doesn't have a Ranji team yet. It hasn't hosted international cricket yet. The IPL hit it in 2013 and is back now. I've seen how the people have fun in the stadium. Now I want to know how the kids go about playing the game.

There is an indoor stadium in Buddha Talabh. Its facilities are used for football, but there is a stretch of land out back that is perfect for gully cricket. For the structured version, the Chhattisgarh State Cricket Sangh conducts annual inter-district tournaments and 19 teams participate. They've also had sporadic success at the Under-19 and U-25 levels.

I get a wicket first ball and in return I am bowled first ball. I've still got it.

May 12
Raipur is gracious enough to leave some ambiguity over their allegiance in the last game. MS Dhoni's Chennai Super Kings roll into town and the stadium turns yellow. At neutral venues, the fans' thirst tips towards getting a selfie with one of their stars in the background rather than bothering with the cricket and its nuances.

That Zaheer Khan bowls 19 dots in 24 deliveries goes unnoticed. But every time Dhoni is on strike, the chant is deafening. He was 10 off 17, yet Raipur roared his name. Whether he believed one ball could bring his form back or not, these people sure did. Jayant Yadav, playing his second IPL game, is pestered for a wave at long-on. Who knows what's happening to Yuvraj Singh at long-off.

The DJ isn't quite bothered about the cricket either. His concern is to butter up the Raipur crowd. "You wanna know what the local boys behind the cheerleaders say?" he asks, before providing the answer with the lyrics of "Tera Hero Idhar Hai [Your Hero's Over Here]."

After a low-scoring game with the Daredevils bowlers strutting their stuff, I walk to where the government buses queue up to take the people back to the city. The conductor has "CSK" painted on his cheek and I meet a staff member from my hotel. They draw me into a discussion of how boring the match was. No fun, is the consensus. "Majaa nahi hua"