Shall we play Commonwealth Games?

"I enjoy reading your updates," a friend remarked recently. "But there seems to be a tinge of negativism in them".

This is something my better half has said too. No, she doesn't read this blog. Her impression is based on commiserations from common friends about our time in India. "Sorry to hear that you guys are having a tough time," one of them had said.

Call it human nature, but we seem to make more fuss about unfortunate episodes in our lives and tend to ignore the good ones. Why? We are just too busy having a good time.

This isn't an attempt to redress that skew. It is merely an attempt to try and balance the view - if what I hear is indeed the impression readers of this blog carry.

As I mentioned to a friend recently, "I have a love-hate relationship with Delhi, but it is my city - a city I am familiar with and where my family and friends are".

There are many other things I love about Delhi - its green spaces, its long and visible history, the ethnic mix of people, the way it has beaten Mumbai as the preferred destination of those who dream of success.

It is most definitely a city where frustration turns into anger, anger into hope and hope into excitement, rather quickly.

Like with the Commonwealth Games. For months, one only read or saw TV reports of rampant favouritism and corruption in the organisation of the games. Over the last week or so, everyone seems to be pulling together for Delhi's moment of glory.

Even my little one. She declared the Commonwealth Games open on Sunday morning. The first thing she said on waking up was, "Daddy, shall we play Commonwealth Games?"

I am sure you wouldn't blame me for the panic it caused. She is too young to learn about bending the rules, beating the system and making loads of money in the process. I am not even sure if the makers of Monopoly have sought to make an Indian version of their game.

Some of the panic was misplaced. All that the little one had in mind were a few races, covering the length and breadth of our living room.

"Whoever wins, gets a metal", she said. No, darling. The winner gets a medal. No, the winner gets a metal. You are right. The medals are made of metals, but they are still medals. No, it is metal. Fine then. We are in agreement.

First on the agenda was the sprint. Daddy, you have to walk slowly. I can run as fast as I want to. Hang on, wasn't this the kind of rule-bending that organisers of CWG were being accused of? Stop being cynical, I told myself. Go with the flow and enjoy the spirit of the game.

After being presented with a gold metal and waving at the crowds, we moved on to the next event - a hopping race.

The little one had set the rules for this one as well. She could hop or run at will, but I had to stick to hopping. I could suddenly visualise her turning into an able Indian sports administrator. Let me qualify that. A sports administrator in India.

Event by event, I was hammered. "I am the winner. You are the loser," she sang. I tried to reason with her that sports wasn't about winning or losing. It was about participating and enjoying the experience.

But then again, the CWG2010 anthem isn't too kind to losers. It insists that everyone should rise, move forward and win. The chorus goes: "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't lose. Don't lose. Don't lose."

It does say, however, that victory should be attained by playing with passion and within rules.

And to be honest, though she bent the rules a wee bit, the passion was there. The first day of the games at Anand Niketan ended with the biggest metal haul for one participant. My girl won nearly a hundred of them - all gold, of course.

This morning too, she came, gave me a hug and said: "Daddy, shall we play Commonwealth Games?" Today being a weekday, another day of sporting events was not possible.

However, we don't want this enthusiasm for sports to disappear. So serious thinking is on at our household to buy tickets for events that the little one would like to see.