We all have poignant timestamps throughout our lives, whereby the cerebral DVD player lodged in our heads can rewind us to those exact moments. Events and occurrences across decades that stand out amongst the routine of day-to-day living. Graduations, jobs, breakups and death.

To me, the ODI cricket World Cup is such an event. It comes around every 4 years as the Earth orbits the sun, and in my humble opinion, it is the greatest sporting event in the world. I remember exactly where I was during each edition since 1999. To me, it is the real and only World Cup."

1999. At the tender age of six, I have fond memories of watching on in awe as Tendulkar and Dravid hit unbeaten centuries against Kenya. I knew little about life, but I already loved this game and cheered every run with tremendous zest next to my dad in the stands of Bristol. I experienced heartbreak for the first time a fortnight later in Nottingham, as India were vanquished out of the tournament by a New Zealand side captained by Stephen Fleming. I cried that day, and it became the first of many occurrences where the Indian cricket team would play havoc with my emotions.

 In 2011, at the age of 18, a man in the eyes of the law yet still transfixed in a boy-like manner by the 50 overs format. I found myself at a match between my birth country and the country of my soul, England versus India. We had decided as a family that all four of us would centre our yearly holiday around this fixture. The venue was changed last minute from Kolkata to Bengaluru and our travel plans mirrored the BCCI’s wandering mind.

A match for the ages followed. A nail-biting draw that still beggars belief. Each and every fan in the stadium chanting in meditative unison ‘All is well’ ‘All is well’ as Munaf Patel ran in to bowl the last ball of the match under the floodlights of India’s Silicon Valley. I remember the nerves and the euphoria, thinking there is no better game in the entire universe.

The magical number of 338 was put up on display next to each team’s name as both nations shared the points. A few weeks later India would finally be crowned as World Champions after a 28 year wait. I watched the final at a restaurant in London with my family and my grandfather was there sitting right next to me. I cherish sharing this moment with him, the moment I witnessed India conquering the world.

 2015. I was in my final year of university. I had just printed and handed in my dissertation titled ‘An investigation into the correlation between national sporting success and movements in the stock market’. My central point of research was of course, India at cricket World Cups. The very next day my younger cousin and I arrived at London Heathrow airport in the middle of India’s semi final against Australia. We were on our way to Melbourne with tickets to the final secured, praying daily that India would also be there. We checked in our bags, watching the match eagerly on our phones. I put my phone through the x-ray machine at airport security. It went in while MS Dhoni was still at the crease, and by the time it came out, he had also been run out.

And with that, all hopes of India reaching final at the MCG evaporated. Nonetheless we took the 26-hour flight and experienced a World Cup final for the first time. It was a one sided affair and Australia won easily. But I got to be there and as Michael Clarke lifted the trophy, it was an unsympathetic reminder that life doesn’t always go to plan.

 2019. A full circle. 20 years after my first world cup experience, the tournament returned to the British Isles. I was 26 years old, back home after a year spent drifting across continents in search of some elusive life tonic, feeling somewhat lost.

 Gloomy conditions in Birmingham did not quell our thirst for Pimms by the pint. Rohit Sharma’s eloquent century became the catalyst to defeating a strong Bangladesh side. My cousin and I cheered on with the thousands of other NRI’s devoted to the beautiful game. It reminded me that India is not just a country, but a feeling. Once again, India faltered at the Semi final stage and once more the heartbreak of India not making it to Lords to contest for the trophy felt like torture.

 In 2003 I sat expectantly on the floor in my uncles living room. In 2007 I was in pure agony at my dad’s friend’s house. The only tournament I have no recollection of is 1996, but please forgive me for I had only just turned 3.

 2023 is here. Life has evolved once more, I no longer live at home with my parents, It’s the first World Cup where I have flown the nest. I am no longer a free-roaming bachelor; I have a partner, although she doesn't care for cricket, but I am working on that.  But the one thing that hasn’t changed is my excitement and anticipation for the Cricket World Cup.

 This time round, much to the dismay of my girlfriend, I’ll be there for the tournaments entirety. With the same zest and gusto for the game that has been my lifelong friend. Hopefully watching India raise the trophy amongst 100,000 others in Ahmedabad on November 19th.