My Flirtations with Cricket
Starting from childhood cricket games beneath Morpankhi trees, culminating in a compliment from cricketer Chandu Borde--a delightful journey through the cricketing universe.
At the outset, let me confess that I am no cricketer, but I love watching the game and reading about it. Here, I share with like-minded readers some of my cricketing experiences.
The beginning
As I recall, at a single-digit age, my father provided me and my younger brother a complete cricket kit—bat, ball, stumps and bails, pads (for batting and wicket keeping), gloves—the lot. Of course, we still needed players to play with and a play area sufficiently spacious. Both these requirements were already met. In the 1940s, professorial quarters at Banaras Hindu University (BHU) were palatial. Ours had some 12 rooms with large verandas set in an area around 1000 square meters. My father had planted trees ranging from Peepal, Maulasiri, Mango, and Mulberry down to a garden replete with flowers and bushes; and, of course, a kitchen garden. Additionally, a love for badminton led him to set up a concrete court, which he made available to university students. All this still left sufficient room for playing cricket, hockey and football, for which he was also our patron. Several of our school friends were regular users of these games.
But cricket was the most popular among these. With 8-12 players, we could have a good game, but with one restriction! There were Morpankhi trees bordering the play area and separating it from the badminton court. We were enjoined not to hit into them. Our batting on the legside was, therefore, weak. As was to be expected, everyone wanted to bat, and there were few takers for bowling. To encourage the latter, my father announced a reward of one rupee for knocking the leg or off the stump and five rupees for hitting the middle stump.
In 1950, my maternal uncle Morumama came to stay with us while he studied for a master’s degree in mathematics at the university. He was a great cricket fan. In those days when TV was unheard of, he listened to radio commentary. I learned to follow him, and we made our own comments on the state of the match. In some cases, I was at a disadvantage, though! The matches in England had the last (post-tea) session after 9 p.m. by Indian time. The early-to-bed parental protocol meant I had to miss that part. Morumama then wrote the end-of-the-day score, which I saw in the morning. To make life difficult for me, however, he would sometimes write two scores, one of which was true. As both scores would be consistent with what I knew as the teatime score, the guessing game would be a problem.
There were occasional inter-university matches where teams from Bombay and Delhi had some good players. As no seating arrangement was made for spectators, they had to stand or squat on the ground. I was lucky to acquire a folding stool that could be carried in hand and set up just outside the boundary.
The Cambridge period
In 1957, I moved to Cambridge, which was to be my alma mater. This transition taught me how cricket was treated in its mother country. In particular, I wanted to visit the famous Lords Cricket Ground, where cricket ‘started’ and which houses its headquarters. It would be nice, I thought, if I could watch a test match being played there. I found that the Indian team was touring England in 1959 and planned to go there on the second day of the second test. There were many trains between Cambridge and London. Arriving at Liverpool Street station and taking the underground to St John’s Wood brought one to Lords—the whole exercise took an hour and a half. I was close to the destination at around 10.30 a.m., well in time for the start of the second day’s play. But I still had to get the entrance ticket. I had been told in Cambridge that no advance ticketing would be required.
While looking for a stall or a booth, I noticed a few policemen were wandering about, ensuring no disturbance or traffic violation. Knowing that the ‘London Bobby’ can supply local information, I approached one to find where I could buy the ticket. He looked at me and asked, “Sir, are you a student?” When I replied in the affirmative, he asked: “Are you from India?” Again, I said “Yes,” wondering why he was asking these questions. But, I saw him take out an envelope from his pocket, which he gave to me, saying, “This ticket was left with me by a gentleman who could not be present for today’s play, and he desired that it be given to any Indian student who needed it. Enjoy the game!” So I had a free ticket! I was also thanking my luck that of the half a dozen policemen present, I happened to approach a Bobby with the ticket.
Headingley, Leeds, was another ground I wanted to visit. An opportunity came when in July 1965, I was visiting the astronomy group at Leeds University. The famous astronomer Professor T.G. Cowling was heading it. My friend Kumar Chitre was my host. We learned that a test match was taking place there against New Zealand. Chitre needed to take a leave from Professor Cowling as lectures were going on. Although he hesitated to state the reason for his absence, Chitre had no problem getting leave, and we went to the match venue the following day.
As we settled on a bench we felt guilty that we did not state to Cowling the reason for leaving. We wondered if a strict person like him would approve of watching cricket instead of teaching. But as we looked round, we found Cowling himself amongst the spectators, a couple of rows ahead! He, too, was a cricket enthusiast. We also found that he applauded with discrimination: not clapping a false stroke even if it crossed the boundary. He would be as strict with bad strokes as he would be with wrong examination answers.
Active participation
Cricket is a game that one can enjoy playing without being an expert at it. Here are some such occasions that I cherish.
Some of us, research students and senior undergraduates from India and Pakistan met on Sunday afternoons on Churchill College grounds. The necessary kit was available courtesy of the College, as its member Kumar Chitre was playing. A viable game requires at least four players on each side. On Pakistan’s side, Khalid Ikram was a batter, while his brother Jahid was a fast bowler (too fast for our comfort!). Jamal Islam from Chittagaon was also a batter who played for them. This was before the existence of Bangladesh. On our side, the Captain Chitre was a spin bowler with some tricky chinamen. I was identified as a leg break expert. I recall Amit Bhaduri and Bimal Jalan as being part of our team, but I do not remember their specialty. Rajendram, a Sri Lankan with Cambridge Blue in boxing, joined us on these occasions. As was to be expected, the play was enlivened by on-field controversies. I doubt if DRS would have worked.
I recall one instance where my decision led to disaster. That day, Pakistan needed a player to fulfill the minimum for a match. My colleague John Faulkner, an Englishman from St John’s College, had come with me to watch the match. Could we depute him to the Pakistan team? I asked. After some discussion, we agreed to do so. John tried to resist, stating that he was out of practice, but we prevailed upon him to play. He was given the wicketkeeper’s job in the Pakistan team. In that role, he took three crucial catches, and we lost!
Glimpse of Cambridge Cricket by JVN and others
When I was made Fellow of King’s College, I was invited to play in the Fellows team. I did play in a few matches, but because of travel all over the world, I was mostly out of Cambridge and missed out on several fixtures. I recall with pleasure my role as the 11th man remaining not out while my partner, who was a good batter, scored the required 12 runs for victory. That match was against the King’s College Choir School, and it was impressive to see boys in their early teens playing with style and aplomb against us, elderly scholars two to three times their age and with no formal training in cricket.
Ending on a positive note
I end this saga by recalling a visit to Birmingham in July 2002. The occasion was a Convention of Marathi-speaking people from Europe. Special guests at the Convention included (apart from myself) the actor Nana Patekar and cricketer Chandu Borde. We were accommodated in the palatial house of Dr Sharad Pandit, a leading Marathi medical practitioner in Birmingham.
At the host’s suggestion, we trouped to the grounds around his house and set up the stumps etc. Each of us batted and took part in bowling. At the conclusion, Chandu Borde complimented me on my batting as well as bowling. It was indeed a pleasure for me to receive this assessment, for Borde held the Chairmanship of the Board of Selectors for the National Men’s team!
Your story about the bowler who started bowling a mirror image of his action was very intriguing. Loved this write up as well.
what fun stories about cricket and your hidden talents.