As the namazis trudge back home from taraweeh prayers, a lot of them will retire to bed but the streets in most residential parts of Lahore shall not take on a deserted look. Enter bands of adolescent boys, with scanty beards, fixing head-lights or placing wickets in the middle of the streets. The congregations grow as night goes on.

In recent years, midnight cricket has become a common street sport during the month of Ramzan. Whereas during the day, the people usually focus on keeping the fast and they go about their assigned duties, at night the mohallas and neighbourhoods of the city witness cricket ‘tournaments,’ so to say.

The fixtures -- wickets, balls and other equipment -- are bought collectively, with everyone chipping in their bit. The night-time means the boys can escape the heat and the trials of the day. It helps to be playing till sehri time because most of them would like to stay up anyway.

Upon closer examination, this simple midnight sport activity offers an interesting insight into the milieu of Lahore. The boys come from diverse socio-economic backgrounds and it’s a rare occasion to see them interact in the microcosm of a street where the societal and class differences are forgotten, albeit for the length of the game only.

Some of the (privileged) boys may be wearing Nikes and Adidas and conversing in a mix of Urdu and English, there is always another bunch that is sporting shalwar kameez and threadbare sandals and exchanging slangs in Punjabi. These two distinct cliques no more remain divided and seamlessly morph into one group.

Sport, undeniably, has this innate quality of levelling people. It doesn’t discriminate. Or, does it?

Lahore and cricket share a long and rich history. Cricketing greats like Imran Khan and Wasim Akram are the city’s progeny. The recent ban on international cricket has affected the sport-crazed Lahoris. The kids who partake in street ‘tournaments’ lament the fact that they may never be able to see their local heroes play on home ground. As Sameer, 17, says wistfully, "I’ve hardly any memories of the time when international cricket was played here. I just want to see our national team Live. I don’t know if my dream will ever be fulfilled!"

For now, Sameer is able to forget his woes as he steps out in the street and the game commences. A lanky boy wearing a cheap pair of sandles ambles in, steadily gaining pace as he breaks into a stride, round the wicket, and fires one in towards the batsmen’s pads. It shapes in, then darts away, beating the batsmen’s baffled prod and take out the off stump.

For a fleeting moment everyone is enraptured by joy. Even the batsman smiles wryly at the clever piece of bowling.