When thousands of white paper squares crash against you accompanied by the wild beat of drums and sheer magnitude of a hundred powerful throats, you cannot help but look heavenwards at the thick mass of people lining the top edge of the gallery, leaning down and making their pleasure known.
The first time this happened, it took a little while to register that the Arabs who were doing this were actually celebrating their team's victory. It was the final of the Qatar Football league and the leading team had just won the tournament. What followed that day is one of the reasons why I love sports so much.
No matter who it is by your side, you invariably hug him/her when your team wins. It could be a person you have grown up with, or someone whom you didn’t even know existed ninety minutes ago. There is no age, caste, creed, sex or any other constraints of society when it comes to two people sharing the common joy of their team's victory.
It is into this joy that I have flown down into. It is into this feeling of sharing that I have to go each time to find a new story. It is this feeling on oneness I feel each time I go to report an event.
What else could be more sweeter than the anticipation to a referees long whistle at the end of a particularly tense football match? Nothing, my friend, absolutely nothing!