It was the summer of 2008. The entire country was going crazy over IPL (Indian Premier League). T20 cricket was in vogue and talk of the town.

However, my reason for excitement regarding the IPL was, of course, SRK. I considered myself Shah Rukh Khan’s biggest fan, across the whole wide world and thought it was nothing but fate that he chose to buy Kolkata Knight Riders. I felt that SRK buying KKR was a twisted karmic manner of acknowledging my fan worship.

Being a poor underpaid researcher from Bangalore, I jumped at the chance of heading to Kolkata to earn some extra dearness allowance — in hope of using the money to buy a ticket close to the box for the opening ceremony. Rumour had it that SRK was to perform at the opening ceremony to be held in Bangalore; the stadium was five minutes walking distance from my office.

I returned from Kolkata soaked in the spirit of IPL and deep in love with KKR, only to find that tickets had been sold out. To add insult to my hurt feelings, a nasty client had scheduled an important presentation on the same day. Since not attending the meeting would be, literally, a career ending move, I stuffed myself into formal wear and walked to my office, away from the stadium gearing up for the ceremony. Although my team won, I missed a glimpse of my star and yes, I had a horrible presentation which ended up being career damaging anyway!

However, what transpired the next day made me feel desolate as I felt the world come crashing on my head!

(Ting tong) I opened the door to Ranjeet, my cook. He walked in, only to stop in front of the television set.

Ranjeet: Kya ho raha hai didi (What are you watching, didi)

With a snobbish sniff, I began in my condescending tone, “Match ho raha hai Ranjeet, IPL chal raha hai na — Indian Premier League. (A match, Ranjeet. It is the IPL, the Indian Premier League).

There are six teams playing. Each team has seven Indian players and four foreign players. Today Kings of Punjab is playing Chennai Super Kings. Dhoni...”

“Haan didi,” interrupted an excited Ranjeet. “I know. I was at the stadium yesterday. It was awesome!”

I was stunned! “Arre, tumko tickets mil gaye? Kaunse? 230 waale? (Oh! You managed to get tickets? Which one? The one that costs Rs 230?)

“Nahi didi,” a visibly excited Ranjeet denied. “Mere sahib Rahul Dravid ke dost hain. Unke ghar mein box seat ke paanch pass aa jaate hain. To kal unhone teen mujhe aur mere doston ko de diya. (The other employer is friends with Rahul Dravid. He frequently gets tickets for five box seats. Yesterday, he gave three of those tickets to me and my friends)

I starred at my cook in incredulous silence as he continued.

“Bahut maza aaya didi. Humne itna chillaya. Shah Rukh ekdum passs baitha tha, meine haath bhi milaya. Aap ne nai dekha, kal mein TV pe bhi aaya tha” (We had a lot of fun. We screamed a lot. Shah Rukh was sitting next to us; I even shook hands with him. You missed it but I was on television yesterday)

Stupefied and envious, I cut short his monologue. “Aaj methi ke paranthe banane hein, jaao jaldi banao.” (You have to make paranthaas of methi today. Hurry up)

And all I could do was shake my head and wonder, “Oh why God? Why?”