My Therapist Said to Write About My Feelings After the India Match.

A Pakistani Fan’s Post

A Raw, Unfiltered, and Slightly Embarrassed Confession from a Pakistani Cricket Fan.

The Emotional Rollercoaster (Mostly Downhill)

You see, being a Pakistani cricket fan during an India match is not for the faint of heart. It’s a journey, a spiritual experience, a test of patience, and ultimately, a lesson in humility. Here’s how it usually goes:

• Pre-match Hype: “This is our year! We’re stronger! Our boys are motivated!” (Delusion level: Expert)
• First Innings (Pakistan Batting): “Okay, okay, a slow start. We’ll pick it up. Just need one big partnership.” (Hope dwindling, but still breathing)
• First Innings (Pakistan Batting, collapse edition): “OH MY GOD. Who invited these batsmen? Are they playing gully cricket? Is this a practical joke?!” (Anger and confusion set in)
• Mid-innings break: “Right, 127 isn’t *that* bad. Our bowlers are lions! Shaheen will get them! Just need early wickets!” (Desperate optimism kicking in)
• India’s Batting (early overs): “Yesss! Gill is out! Abhishek is gone! We’re in it! This is it! History in the making!” (False hope reaches peak levels)
• India’s Batting (middle overs, Suryakumar & Tilak show): “Wait, what? Are they even trying? Did they forget how to catch? Why is that ball going for a six? My blood pressure!” (Panic mode activated)
• India’s Batting (the inevitable finish): *Silence, followed by a sigh so deep it echoes through the soul.* “Well, at least it was quick.” (Resignation and the search for comfort food)

The Aftermath: Memes, Tears, and the ‘Abu’ Tag

And then comes the glorious aftermath. The internet, a place usually filled with cat videos, transforms into a relentless meme factory. Our players’ faces become templates for every meme imaginable. Every “expert” on social media suddenly has the perfect strategy we should have used. And of course, the ever-present, utterly humiliating (yet sometimes, begrudgingly accurate) “India is our Abu” jokes. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but honestly, sometimes it feels like a universal truth written in the stars, or perhaps just in the cricketing records.

My neighbor, Uncle Tariq, who painted his entire car green before the match, is now probably repainting it beige. My auntie is convinced it’s because our players didn’t eat enough haleem. And me? I’m just here, trying to process the fact that my heart was pummeled by a cricket match. Again.

So, here we are. Another chapter in the never-ending saga of India vs Pakistan. We lost, we’re a bit embarrassed, and yes, maybe India is our ‘Abu’ on the cricket field. But hey, there’s always next time, right? (Don’t worry, my therapist is working on my optimism issues.) Until then, I’ll be mourning with my chai and biscuits, dreaming of a day when the scoreboard tells a different story. A boy can dream, can’t he?