Our country’s obsession with cricket has always confounded me: the British left, leaving behind their lifestyle and culture, but their most enduring legacy for the sub-continent is the love for cricket. Who could imagine that a game invented and played by the British for passing time, would one day become a passion for more than a billion people.... That is precisely how it is!
I was no exception. I was bitten by the cricket bug early in life. Our link with cricket was mainly through the radio, and the intermediaries were the unforgettable Jasdev Singh and Ravi Chaturvedi, who would be so eloquent with their words that hearing them one would feel as if one was actually in the middle of the action! Not even the slightest detail was lost, all because of the wonderful description of the proceedings of the matches received through their words!
As a small boy my dream was to attend a test match, and the closest one could get to witnessing a test match from Chandigarh, was in Delhi. I pestered my parents to organise a visit for me so that I could see a cricket test match with my own eyes! The pestering paid off, and ultimately my father requested a highly placed friend of his in Delhi to requisition passes for the forthcoming India Vs. West Indies test match in Delhi so that I could see it. The gracious friend obliged, and to my delight I was off to Delhi to have my first brush with international cricket! I was hardly ten years old, but a really observant ten-year-old, for each memory is nicely etched in my mind to this day....
The auntie (my Dad’s friend’s wife) teased me, saying the passes are so sought after that if we sell them we could all have dinner in Ashoka! Ashoka Hotel in New Delhi in those days was the very epitome of luxury and opulence. I refused to submit and maintained that I will go to see the cricket match, come what may.
Next morning I was off to the Ferozeshah Kotla for the match. My elation actually had no bounds as the car made its way from the Harding Bridge to Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, towards Ferozeshah Kotla Cricket Grounds. For us Chandigarh kids, being in Delhi was itself a treat! My companion was another boy from the family, my senior by several years, who was not at all enamoured of the idea of having a small boy to look after during such an exciting excursion. Nevertheless, he had no choice, and disappeared somewhere as soon as I found a seat.
My father’s friend was an important man, and I got some of the choicest seats in the stadium, in the area of the pavilion. My excitement and elation soon turned to boredom and discomfiture. It was the December of 1974, but the hot midday sun coupled with the fact that not a leaf was moving in the air, made it a very uncomfortable and oppressive atmosphere. I was surrounded by a posse of businessmen from western India with Rolex watches and packets of Dunhill. They were constantly betting, betting on each stroke, each player! They would lay a bet on the slightest pretext: “Brijesh Patel do se zyaada nahin bana payega, lagao shart.” (Brijesh Patel won’t be able to get past 2, lay a bet) The guy lost the bet, because Brijesh Patel went well beyond two! It was obvious they had a lot of money, and they added excitement to the proceedings through their bets.
Things were miserable for me, though, and likewise for our team. The thick cigarette smoke around me along with the hot sun made me want to run back home. The “Windies” were a very powerful team at the time. They had fast bowlers like the fearsome Andy Roberts and Bernard Julian, and batsmen like Vivian Richards and Clive Lloyd. Richards made 192 not out, and it seemed nothing could get him and Lloyd out...!
After the day’s match was over, the players would sit informally on the seats in the pavilion, and it was the best time to meet them. Bishen Singh Bedi drove to the stadium driving his own Fiat, and was surrounded by crowds wherever he went. It was obvious he was very popular in Delhi....
As for me, the first match was enough! I never went back for a cricket match again.
I was no exception. I was bitten by the cricket bug early in life. Our link with cricket was mainly through the radio, and the intermediaries were the unforgettable Jasdev Singh and Ravi Chaturvedi, who would be so eloquent with their words that hearing them one would feel as if one was actually in the middle of the action! Not even the slightest detail was lost, all because of the wonderful description of the proceedings of the matches received through their words!
As a small boy my dream was to attend a test match, and the closest one could get to witnessing a test match from Chandigarh, was in Delhi. I pestered my parents to organise a visit for me so that I could see a cricket test match with my own eyes! The pestering paid off, and ultimately my father requested a highly placed friend of his in Delhi to requisition passes for the forthcoming India Vs. West Indies test match in Delhi so that I could see it. The gracious friend obliged, and to my delight I was off to Delhi to have my first brush with international cricket! I was hardly ten years old, but a really observant ten-year-old, for each memory is nicely etched in my mind to this day....
The auntie (my Dad’s friend’s wife) teased me, saying the passes are so sought after that if we sell them we could all have dinner in Ashoka! Ashoka Hotel in New Delhi in those days was the very epitome of luxury and opulence. I refused to submit and maintained that I will go to see the cricket match, come what may.
Next morning I was off to the Ferozeshah Kotla for the match. My elation actually had no bounds as the car made its way from the Harding Bridge to Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, towards Ferozeshah Kotla Cricket Grounds. For us Chandigarh kids, being in Delhi was itself a treat! My companion was another boy from the family, my senior by several years, who was not at all enamoured of the idea of having a small boy to look after during such an exciting excursion. Nevertheless, he had no choice, and disappeared somewhere as soon as I found a seat.
My father’s friend was an important man, and I got some of the choicest seats in the stadium, in the area of the pavilion. My excitement and elation soon turned to boredom and discomfiture. It was the December of 1974, but the hot midday sun coupled with the fact that not a leaf was moving in the air, made it a very uncomfortable and oppressive atmosphere. I was surrounded by a posse of businessmen from western India with Rolex watches and packets of Dunhill. They were constantly betting, betting on each stroke, each player! They would lay a bet on the slightest pretext: “Brijesh Patel do se zyaada nahin bana payega, lagao shart.” (Brijesh Patel won’t be able to get past 2, lay a bet) The guy lost the bet, because Brijesh Patel went well beyond two! It was obvious they had a lot of money, and they added excitement to the proceedings through their bets.
Things were miserable for me, though, and likewise for our team. The thick cigarette smoke around me along with the hot sun made me want to run back home. The “Windies” were a very powerful team at the time. They had fast bowlers like the fearsome Andy Roberts and Bernard Julian, and batsmen like Vivian Richards and Clive Lloyd. Richards made 192 not out, and it seemed nothing could get him and Lloyd out...!
After the day’s match was over, the players would sit informally on the seats in the pavilion, and it was the best time to meet them. Bishen Singh Bedi drove to the stadium driving his own Fiat, and was surrounded by crowds wherever he went. It was obvious he was very popular in Delhi....
As for me, the first match was enough! I never went back for a cricket match again.
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