India's World Cup win wasn't a feeling, it was an emotion

"Destiny, bro.."

It's nearly three hours since India have won the T20 World Cup. Hardik Pandya is just walking back to the dressing-room after having addressed the media when he spots you. It starts with a big embrace, a pat to the back of the head, words of congratulations passed and accepted, followed by these two words.

"Destiny, bro."

You couldn't help but agree with Hardik. It did feel like destiny. Like it was destined to end this way. With Rohit Sharma and Hardik Pandya, after everything they've been through in the two months leading into this June 29 clash at the Kensington Oval, left to write the final chapter of this remarkable saga for Indian cricket. The fact that Suryakumar Yadav would be the one pulling off a freakish catch to more or less seal the game. The fact that Virat Kohli would win his first T20 World Cup on his last day as a T20I cricketer. The fact that Rahul Dravid would get to lift a World Cup trophy on his final day as head coach after having failed to do so as a cricketer. And of course, the fact that Hardik, after being booed and jeered in cricket stadiums all around India for nearly two months, would be the one delivering the finishing touch to one of Indian cricket's greatest days.

Minutes after he'd bowled the final delivery to seal India's second T20 World Cup trophy win, Hardik was in tears. Not too far from him, Rohit was on the ground punching the ground with the bottom of his fist repeatedly before being swarmed by his teammates, while he remained face-down on the ground.

Virat Kohli had broken down the earliest, the moment the fifth delivery of the last over from Hardik didn't concede a boundary. Down on the long-off boundary, he threw his fist up in the air before immediately covering his eyes with his right hand. There were tears there, tears of joy, as he then took a deep breath put his hands to his knees and took a few more deep breaths while being bent and staring at the ground. He knew his team was nearly there, with only a single ball left in his T20I career for India.

Kohli wasn't the only one who couldn't wait for Hardik to make sure his front foot was within the popping crease as he delivered the last ball before letting himself get sucked into the wave of ecstasy and jubilation as reserve players and support staff stormed the field with Indian flags. While Rohit was on the ground, and Hardik stood motionless by the pitch just pointing at the sky, the others hugged and jumped and slid and threw themselves on each other. It was unbridled. Nobody bothered about staying in character. It was a moment to break free.

It was then that it hit home that this World Cup win for India wasn't a feeling; it was an emotion. A collective emotion that was experienced by not just the players in the middle or the coaching staff led by Dravid or their families who joined them in the middle of the Kensington Oval. But for millions of Indian cricket fans all around the world who'd held their collective breath when David Miller's skied shot was caught, then tossed up, and then caught again by Suryakumar Yadav only a few minutes earlier.

It was the kind of emotion that cannot easily be explained. There was pure joy for sure. But there was also relief, and that bit of unexplained mania.

It wasn't an emotion you could feel. It had to be experienced. No wonder Rohit would talk later about wanting to capture that moment for himself, even if he was the one who was at the centre of it. To see for himself what it must have been like to see a man who's rarely shown emotion on the field, surrendering himself to this raw outpouring of emotion.

For the next few hours following the glory moment that'll get replayed on Indian television sets and other screens for decades to come, the Indian players let themselves be drawn by that emotion. Repeatedly hugging each other, sometimes off the cuff. There were some jumping on top of each other randomly. If nothing, one of them would just pick up reserve player Rinku Singh and swing him around. Or there'd be a family member who'd want to pose for the umpteenth picture with the trophy.

There were lovely moments between Jasprit Bumrah and his wife Sanjana Ganesan, who remained the consummate professional through it all, continuing to do her work as a digital on-air presenter for the ICC, even if she did steal a few hugs and kisses with her husband, who'd just been named the player of the tournament. On a day he proved that he is by far the greatest white-ball bowler India has produced. And surely in the top 5 of all time in the history of the sport.

Minutes after he'd picked up his player of the match award, Kohli was on his phone, calling back home and proudly showing off his medal to his wife and child. That's before he took an Indian flag from one of the support staff and started waving it with his right hand while holding the phone in the left.

Nothing summed up the collective emotion of this World Cup win for India than that moment when Dravid was finally handed the trophy and he let out a guttural roar and kept at it for a few extra seconds too.

At some level, it felt like some in the Indian camp simply didn't know what to do with themselves, such was the state of euphoria they seemed to be in. There was constant movement in and out of the dressing-room as they took turns to go to the pitch and pose for pictures or get another selfie with the trophy. There were impromptu parties breaking out, with Arshdeep Singh and Kohli having broken into some bhangra.

There was another kind of collective emotion in the other camp too. But one that the South Africans had felt before. They stood around listlessly in the pouring rain, some on their knees on the ground, some with their hands over their faces, some with their hands around their partner for support. It's unlikely they even felt the rain.

They waited patiently though for the presentation to get over, to applaud the Indian team as they lifted the trophy and then ambled off through the cloud of confetti while their opponents danced and made merry behind them. One of the South African players' kids, a toddler, blissfully and innocently unaware of the grief that she was surrounded by, ran up and down the confetti that had settled on the outfield.

At one point, amidst all the mayhem, Hardik took an Indian flag with him to the middle of the pitch on which India had created history and just stood there, staring down at the surface. At the spot where his right foot had landed earlier in the afternoon to seal the deal for his team. It wasn't clear what this gesture meant. It's unlikely Hardik knew himself. Maybe he just needed a moment to himself. In all likelihood he was just having a word with himself.

"Destiny Bro."