In India, any time is cricket time. Cricket watch (on TV), cricket talk, cricket matches, cricket quizzes, cricket tools, cricket rules, (argh!). Cricket has worked its way into our blood, our veins, and our nervous system! Bending the rules of the game can get you a win-win situation, says Raksha Bharadia.

My children (aged eight and five) exhibited the rampant Indianness in their blood by declaring passionately that watching the game wasn't enough - they would like me to buy them the tools of the game as well. Once equipped with these, they converted every room into a stadium from a different city. The drawing room became the honoured Eden Gardens.

They had heard that the Eden Gardens in Kolkata seats more than one lakh spectators and so, with their own sense of proportion, our very own fragile (oh, those crystals and artifacts!) drawing room became the most coveted cricket stadium. In my better moods, they even managed a match or two at the Eden Gardens.

A Couple Of Quacks!
One day, I had nothing much to do, and a match was on at the 'Eden Gardens', so I sat as their sole spectator. They alternately batted and bowled every over. They scored runs but never got out. They dived for catches and again more runs were added into the 'catcher's' account and the 'batgirl' did not lose her wicket. I was aghast. They had a quack knowledge of the game and as their mother (and a citizen of a cricket-crazy nation) it was my cardinal duty to show them the right way. I butted in and said, "You've both got the rules all wrong". I began my narration with appropriate authority and conveyed my knowledge and understanding of cricket. After a 10-minute speech, I said, "Now, let's start again". I offered to be the umpire and guide them till they got it right. My children, however, had other plans.

This Isn't Cricket, Mom
My elder daughter said, "But mummy, we're not playing cricket. It's a new game - Pricket!" I couldn't think of an appropriate response for a few seconds so she went on to explain the rules of the game.
Rule1: No one gets out.
Rule 2: They play an over of six balls each, alternating with the bat and ball so no one really needs to wait endlessly to bat.
Rule 3: They just have to make more and more runs.

Flabbergasted, I mumbled, "How does the game end and who wins?" The authoritative tone had switched sides. They explained, patiently, "We stop playing when we tire, add both our scores and compare them with the last session. We both win if the score is more than the last match and we both lose if the score is less."

"But...," I persisted. They cut me short and said, "Mom, games should be fun and we're having lots of fun."

Was there a lesson here for adults? In their own naïve and simple way my children had created a win-win situation, with their extraordinary rules. Both play, both have fun, but not at the loser's expense. In their flawless 'pricket', everyone's a winner.

"Wow!" I said. "The two of you can never lose." And they wouldn't. Not with the rules of Pricket in their heads.