The BUDX NBA House In Delhi Gave Indian Basketball Fans Something Rare: Belonging

Last Updated:May 11, 2026, 21:46 IST

In a country where cricket dominates, the BUDX NBA House in Delhi offered Indian basketball fans something rare: belonging, hope, and a reminder to never lose love for the game.

It’s not easy being a basketball fan in India.

The games tip off at impossible hours. Courts and infrastructure remain scarce. The idea of dreaming beyond fandom — of wanting to write about the sport, work around it, or build a life in it — is often treated as unrealistic at best, laughable at worst.

In a country where cricket sits at the centre of everything, loving basketball can feel cruel, thankless and defeating at times. Trust me, I know that feeling well.

As someone who has spent years obsessing over the NBA and now works as a sports writer (by some serendipitous twist of fate), I’m often met with the same reactions when I say I want to cover basketball seriously.

And sometimes, those voices become difficult to tune out. Not because you want to believe them, but because they grow louder than your own.

Yet despite all of it, I keep coming back to the game. Because when the ball tips off and the clock starts running, something changes. Life becomes…simple. Stripped to its bare essentials.

For those 48 minutes — to quote the evergreen Celtics legend Kevin Garnett himself — anything is possible.

Basketball has always carried that feeling – the idea that the whole game can shift in an instant with one swift change of momentum, that deficits can be overcome, that sheer belief alone can keep you alive.

Lately, life itself had begun to feel like a fourth quarter slipping away from me. The pressure had been mounting. Endless work, a depleting roster of people to experience and cherish life with, uncertainty, self-doubt, all the dirty work that rarely gets noticed. The kind of grind that leaves you gasping for air, palms sweaty, hearing every ticking second louder than before.

And then came the timeout.

Out of nowhere, a close friend messaged me to say NBA House was returning to India, and this time, it was coming to Delhi. My city.

That single message felt like hearing the horns blare in the middle of chaos. A brief pause. A reset. A reminder.

Of course, I said yes. Because our relationship with sport is rarely logical. It’s often unapologetically and unabashedly emotional.

Basketball and I were initially merely acquaintances. Like many fans growing up in the early 2000s and 2010s, I was drawn in through highlights and mythology — Kobe Bryant’s impossible fadeaways, LeBron James’ freakish athleticism, Russell Westbrook’s raging fury in transition, the mystique of the Mamba Mentality.

But it wasn’t until 2020, during the isolation of the COVID lockdowns, that I truly fell in love with the game.

The Bubble Playoffs became more than basketball. In fact, they became perspective, a different window for me to view life through, or rather to just… live.

Watching from afar, on my laptop screen with my friends all through endlessly sleepless nights, I realised how much freedom the sport represented — even inside those empty arenas in a confined, restricted resort in Orlando.

Within those 94 feet existed an entire world of possibilities. Pressure might build, the clock might wind down, but eventually the responsibility always returned to one thing: taking the shot.

Whether it goes in or not almost becomes secondary. You simply take it.

Maybe you’re down two in the closing seconds and pull up from deep despite the odds. Maybe you miss. Maybe you become Luka Doncic, burying a ridiculous step-back three at the buzzer to win the game. Maybe you hit the side of the backboard, as Paul George did, in desperation in a loss. But the point is that you trust yourself enough to try.

That’s what basketball gave me. And in certain ways, I believe that’s what the NBA House is trying to represent, too.

It isn’t merely a fan festival sitting at the intersection of basketball, music, fashion and culture. For fans in India, it feels like a green light — one that lets us know that we can care deeply about this game in a place where doing so can often feel isolating. Like Kobe calling for an iso knowing he’s going to get into his bag.

Walking into the NBA House in Delhi, I witnessed just that. Friends competing in shootouts. Sneakerheads discussing the hottest new shoes out in the market and geeking out over jerseys. Fans losing themselves in music performances and conversations about the league. Strangers bonding over players, rivalries and moments they had only previously experienced through screens at 5 a.m.

It seemed like for two spirited nights, the noise outside disappeared.

And then came the moment that truly brought the feeling home: watching Isiah Thomas and DeMarcus Cousins — icons of the sport — walk into the room.

Legends I had only ever admired from afar. Zeke dissecting plays on television with the same genius he once brought to the court. Boogie overwhelming opponents through sheer force and skill in an era that never quite knew how to contain him.

And suddenly, there they were. Only an arm’s length away.

People often say never meet your heroes. I disagree entirely.

Because for fans who have followed this sport through ridicule, sleepless nights and endless explanations about why basketball matters to them, sometimes all it takes is one brush with greatness to reignite belief.

One conversation. One handshake. One shared moment. Like a superstar returning from injury just when the season feels lost. Like teammates digging deep for a timely defensive stop to keep the game alive.

That inspiration matters. And sometimes, that’s all you need to keep pushing.

During the press conference leading up to the event, Thomas reflected on helping build the Toronto Raptors in Canada and compared it to basketball’s journey in India.

“When I helped co-found the Raptors, hockey was everything in Canada. Here, cricket is king," he said.

But he stressed that growth does not happen by trying to replace what already exists.

“You’re not trying to jump over a hurdle. You’re trying to become part of the community. That’s what basketball is about."

That sentiment stayed with me long after the event ended.

Because basketball in India does not need to compete with cricket to matter. It does not need to “win" some imaginary battle for relevance. It only needs room to grow its own roots.

And sure, that growth may take years. Maybe even generations. But isn’t love worth that kind of patience?

Zeke himself put it beautifully when recalling advice from his childhood coach:

“With this basketball, you will travel all over the world, meet kings and queens, and dine with different cultures."

That’s exactly what the game does. It connects. It creates community. It refuses to let people “shut up and dribble." It opens doors beyond the court itself.

And perhaps that’s why NBA House resonated with fans like me.

Because it reminded us that life is not a Game 7 buzzer-beater every single day. That sometimes life is simply a seven-game series. You win some. You lose some. Some nights you carry the team; other nights your people carry you. And on the days you least expect it, your brethren help you hold your head high long enough to keep going.

All it takes is one spark. One good night. One timeout when you need it most.

So to everyone out there still fighting to love basketball or any passion the world keeps telling you is impractical, hold onto the wonder. Don’t lose the joy. Don’t lose the love for the game.

And always, always meet your heroes.

Or as Eric Cantona once famously said:

“Never grow up, my friends."

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