Twenty Eight Years Later

I am glad that probably some , if not all the players have read my post about last world cup victory. I am not sure how many of them were even born by that time. Even if they were born, most  of them were too infant to be inspired by that victory.

The point is, this victory stands on its own. The players found their own way to the glory. To me, it looked almost ten years of constant journey. The path was shown by Dada.  Sehwag, Yuvraj, Zaheer, Harbhajan  and to some extent, Dhoni and Gambhir  too – were spotted and encouraged by Dada … Encouraged to fight, encouraged to believe in themselves , encourage to not only meet the challenges but to throw the challenges across.  I wish that Rahul Dravid , Laxman and Kumble should be the part of the team – just like Tendulkar. But no, we never missed them .These young guys stood up to the occasion. Look at the report card of the team. Every one contributed. If some one failed, others rushed in to plug the gap. That was precisely  what had happened in Final. The team does not depend on Tendulkar only , unlike it used to do in mid and  late nineties. So what if Sehwag was out in just second ball ! It was pity to see that guys like Pathan and Ashwin, who did not do any bad for whatever chances they got, were sitting on benches. Hopefully , that will enhance their hunger to do well.

Now, just a world of caution – please keep your feet on the ground. Still there are a lot of grey areas. Batting can not always hide the shortcoming of bowling. Fielding is still pretty ordinary. Running between wickets requires improvement. Team needs to learn how to handle batting power play – both while bowling and batting.

Now, Gary Kirsten will not be around. Most probably, BCCI will rope Fleming for the coaching assignment.

But let us hope Tendulkar with us forever. At least, till he completes tweny five thousand runs in both the form of Cricket.

The Classic Case of Brotherhood

I have never seen such a match – that too –that too at a  prestigious World Cup – that too – at knockout level – at such a high level of knockout when the distance between cup and lips are hardly one match away.

Both the teams were desperately trying to lose the match.The whole world, including their Prime Ministers were witness to that.

Let us begin from the team selection.

India picked Ashish Nehra at the cost of Ashwin.It was not Ashwin’s fault. He got two matches and he did well.No one was talking about Nehra. All they were thinking about Munaf, whether he should be iven another chance for the sake of winning combination or  should pave the way for Y Pathan or Sree Santh. No one expected that the axe would fall on Ashwin.

How about Pakistan ? Everyone knew that just the presence of Shoaib Akhtar was enough to make Indian batsmen jittery .That  too, when except  Sachin and to some extent Sehwag with effective upper cuts no one in the tp order of Indian batting had answer for fast, short balls.But he was not in the team.

The height of the brotherhood was, Sachin kept on giving the chances and Pakistani were just dropping them. He is such a great batsman that even one reprive is enough for opposition to sweat, then why he kept on obliging them  ? And they kept on humbly refusing his respectful offerings?

If you got a chance to look into any text commentary , you will find that Indian innings will full of two contradictory term- “almost” and “dropped (missed)”.

Some sample –

..” Saeed Ajmal to Raina, no run, confusion in the running! Raina chops to point, both batsmen set off, stop, look at each other, run again and the stop mid-pitch ... Raina turns and is back just in time! The is nervous stuff “

Mohammad Hafeez to Dhoni, no run, a weak walk across and he stabs this one way to the off. Very edgy

Mohammad Hafeez to Kohli, no run, Almost caught and bowled! Kohli was beaten in the flight and that bottom-hand took over completely as he went for the drive. He mistimed the ball back in the air but it falls short of the bowler

Lovely stuff from Hafeez! Beaten in flight and stumped! Gambhir went down the track but couldn't reach the pitch of the ball. Panic. He then tried to stab the ball away but is now beaten by the turn. More panic. The ball has gone past him and he looks back, trying to get back but no luck. Kamran whips off the bails. India two down.

When Pakistan Innings started,they kept on paying the respect to Munaf and Ashish. Patel even bowled a maiden over.

All the batsmen showed their trademark brilliance and then went into the shell.Pakistan opted for batting power play after 45 overs when 8 wickets were down.

In the post match conference, Dhoni admitted that he read the wicket wrong. Tendulkar confirmed that   never in his Cricketing life, he got that many number of lives in one match. Afridi confessed that they played irresponsible shots. Everything was drown in wild jubilation.

The Arduous Train Voyages and Sindbad IV

Voyage Two – World Cup on Wheels – Part 3

Who wants his name to be tossed in sizzling cauldron of scandal and to be fried with spices of rumours, leg pulling, and ridicules?
Me ? No way.Please.. In my street, I was measured as a straight boy. More than the image conscious, I was shy, yes, painfully shy. And surely, it would be talk of the street if I even thought of doing so.You know, there were different face readers, mind readers, heart readers moving around  in those days with magnifying glass in hand. Probably, it would cross the boundary of the street and might fill the whole sector. No, I won't do it. I would be content with my transistor.What was amiss with the radio commentary? All my
friends were doing the same thing, i.e., "listening"rather than "watching and listening". And just to watchthe match , why should I go to 'her' house ?

'Her'? 'Her'?? Ok, ok, stop sniffing like bull dog.Please stop scratching your claws on floor. I'll tell you everything. Believe me. Please ...Please don't show me the teeth... and no, don't jump on me .I would tell you whatever you hanker after...

You demand to know who was 'she'? She was a girl. My classmate in primary school and my sister's fast friend.
Was she beautiful ? Beautiful ?? She was stunningly beautiful. Probably the most orgeous girl in the whole sector. To add 'Ghee' in fire, her younger sister was more dazzling. Almost three times, if I endeavor to quantify and compare an intangible entity known as beauty.
Let us throw spotlight on the problem. They were the only family in the street 22 of sector 2, Bhilai which had TV
.Yes, those sisters did not have any brother, otherwise, things were uncomplicated for me and my friends. That implied that my sister could go and watch the match if she wished (but she was not interested) ,but I could not.
Guys, I was talking about one day of June of 1983 -almost twenty five years back. No sir, No way I could go to the twin tower's house to watch the match and hand over the tin of red Asian Paints on platter to my friends. My transistor was good enough to listen the blow by blow account of trashing of India in the hands of Lloyd and company.
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You can investigate, open the old log books, collect the data, sample and analyse it by any tools. It is my claim that June  25 1983 is the date of birth of most of the black and white TV. "Date of Birth" does not mean the date of manufacturing. That implies, when a TV, wrapped in brown box, carried in open van and rickshaw, passes through the barrage of envious eyes of neighbours and reaches to the proud owner's drawing room.

Well, TV might be not rare in Delhi or surrounding areas. But for a township like Bhilai, where only limited National Network Programs were showed up and rest of the little time was devoted to variety of local program, the necessity of TV was never felt till then.

By the way, let me clarify.My claim was for black and white TV. That might not be true for colour TV.In India, mostly, the first TV was ipso facto black and white, which on some later date was replaced by colour television. And those, who directly purchased color television were not fervent sports aficionado like Godamkar uncle.

Godamkar uncle's son , Rajnish,  was my good friend.Ironically, Godamkar uncle was next door neighbour of the only TV owner in the street.

On June 25 morning, I was chit-chatting with Rajnish ,standing at his gate.A rickshaw entered the street.Yes,it was the TV.In front of that, Godamkar uncle was coming on bicycle. He was directing the rickshaw wala to the house.On the rickshaw, a delivery man was sitting ,holding the TV box carefully.It should not be jolted.Otherwise, some component inside could be disturbed.
"TV aaya re".Some of my friends, watching from their window, shouted.They came out running, to find out, whose door that rickshaw was going to stop.The TV reached to Godamkar uncle's drawing room and unpacked.
Wow, it was Phillips.
"I thought if I have to buy, then buy the quality one."Godamkar uncle was boasting.

And the TV delivery boy ?He was desperate.to sell his expertise.
"Sir, just hundred. Give me hundred.I'll do all the fittings."
"You can go now." Godamkar uncle raised his fingers towards gate.
"Ok sir, just seventy five.... I'll do everything.Fitting, Antena adjustment, Color, contrast -all the settings. Give me seventy five. All included"
"I said your work is over.Well done.You must leave now."Godamkar uncle was scanning through the manual.
"Ok sir, just fifty....Last ....Just listen to me .You know if your adjustment  is not correct, you would always get hazy,dancing picture and will suffer headache and swelling eyes and likely to visit to doctor.Just fifty sir.You have spent thousands in purchasing the elephant. Just spend fifty for a peg to tie it. You know, TV is a delicate item.You do the wrong fitting and picture tube will blow up"
"Enough.Do you know whom you are trying to fool ?" He indicated me , "See, he is an engineer. I am a Chargeman, dealing with a lots of machine daily.Understand you
delivery man ? If you want" He pulled out a five rupee crumpled  note from his pocket, "take this and have some sweets."

Minutes later, me and Rajneesh went to the roof, fixed the antenna. Then we kept on slowly rotating the mast and constantly asking ,"Uncle, is it clear now ? Should we
rotate a little more ? What, the earlier position was better ? Ok, now , we are rotating slowly..."
Till then, the sole TV owner of TV, the Divisional Engineer , was strolling in his garden and watching with bemused and envious eyes, the disintegrating of his monopoly
, hammered by his own neighbor.
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Want to listen the fascinating story of three contingent of supporters ? There you go ...

West Indian supporters knew long back that their team would eventually play in the Final. They had purchased the tickets month back and just waiting for the big day, oiling and tightening their musical instruments,keeping their best beer in refrigerator, ready for the day. They were pretty relaxed while walking idly to the stadium..

England supporters were crestfallen. They also had bought the ticket in the anticipation that England would reach to the Final. If not England, they would settle for Australia West Indies grand Final. When "Dev's Devils"brought wind out of  England campaign  in semis, first they pillaried the groundsman. Then they professed that the Final between West Indies and India "would be a crashing bore'. The stupefying result deflated English ego but what to say about their certitude? So, those, who bought tickets in advance, were standing near stadium and reselling their tickets at much discounted prices.

And Indians ? Not many had bought the tickets in advance. Many of them even reached near the stadium in the hope of getting tickets from sky or somewhere. When they heard of the story that lot many Englishmen were selling their tickets near the stadium, they thronged there in large number and virtually snatched the tickets from their hands. Many of them even tried to coax and persuade to other Englishmen near the gate to sell their ticket and go to the bar instead for better merriment.
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All these things were not shown on Rajneesh's
television. The thing , which displayed on the screen , was, it seemed to be a green pitch .(Don't ask me, how could I make it out in black and white TV.The commentator said
and I believed it.).
The impetus was with Indian team, but in front of them, it was insurmountable West Indies.
West Indies won the toss and elected to field first. That was a tradition in those days when strong team won the toss. That way, they could finish the match early and go for their celebration.Otherwise, just imagine what would happen if the weak team, batting second, would not try to win and play the complete sixty overs !
Lloyd had applied all their best bowlers for the match – Roberts, Holding, Garner and Marshall.All of tem were capable of opening the bowling.From India’s side, Gavaskar and Srikkanth opened the innings.
Gavaskar facing Roberts.First run cam in the form of misfield at squareleg.India opened the account.
There, I saw, the predicament of Gavaskar.Roberts and Garner started the bowling for West Indies.Both were fast, fiery fast… Technically correct batsman he was, Gavaskar was just leaving outside the off stump balls.He blocked the incoming delivery.He was beaten sometimes.In that process, he scored just two runs in two overs.
“Don’t worry.” Godamkar uncle assure us.”He will just see these bowlers through then he will open up.”
But uncle, when those bowlers stop, another two fearsome bowlers, Marshall and Holding were just waiting and etching theirfury.If he kept on ‘seeing’ those bowlers, then 48 overs would be consumed just like that.
That was the third over.It reminded me his infamous 36 not out in 60 overs in very first match of the world cup, which India played in 1975.Probably, Gavaskar was also feeling the heat.He waved his bat for an outgoing delivery.Dujon tossed the ball in air in delight and it was all over for him.
That was really pity to see him going back to the pavilion .He started his carrer against the West Indian in 1971.That time, he emerged as nemesis for West Indian. Now, after twelve years, West Indians were not even celebrating his dismissals as they should have.
Baba Mohinder Amarnath came to the crease.
      The battle of Srikkanth and Roberts was the interesting one.
If you were watching the match on TV, even after almost twenty five years, you must remember the “fast and faster bouncer.”
Srikkanth was handling rough with smooth handle. He was fearless in driving , cutting and pulling.The score board was ticking on nicely. Godamkar uncle , cutting ‘supari’ with ‘sarouta’  preparing pan after pan, chewing it , kept on appreciating Srikkanth batting,”Wah Wah”.
West Indian fast bowlers , always etching to pepper such a batsman, resorted to short deliveries.Roberts sent a bouncer to Srikkanth coolly took the position and hammered it for four.Indian crowd went berserk.
Commentator was calm.He informed to the world the great secrete,”Actually, Roberts has two bouncers.One quick and another, quicker one.The one he just sent down was former.”That thrilled everyone.We all sitting on the edge of sofa watching on the TV, showing two men out on the fence in anticipation.We knew what was going to follow the “quick” bouncer. Roberts started his run up, speed increased , reached to the crease and here came the quicker one.It even puzzled Srikkanth and he pulled  forehead level ball for a six !The stadium erupted with deafening noise.
“I think, Roberts has three bouncer.Quick, Qicker , Quikest.” It was Godamkar uncle’s comment.”Just wait and see the quickest one is coming and it will land outside of the stadium.”
No, the quickest one never came.But Srikkanth was not quiet.He went on one knee and smashed the bowler through square leg for another four.
On the other side, there was Baba Mohinder Amarnath.Always calm , but effective.West Indian bowlers unleashed the fury on him.The faster they came and short pitched, Mohinder coolly hammered and milked easily.
Suddenly, against the run of the play, Srikkanth got out.Marshall got him LBW.
Morose Godamkar uncle muttered,”Why they have LBW rules when nothing is clear?” He asked me,”How can you tell that the ball will hit the stump ?If ball is swinging, it can go over the stump or miss the off stump.How can an umpire judge it standing twenty two yards away ? absolutely rubbish rule.”
Yeshpal Sharma joined Mohinder and both were playing nicely.Suddenly , just before lunch , match took an unexpected turn.First, “the silent death” Holding (the nickname was given , because when he was running on his runup, his footsteps were never heard by even the umpire and non striker batsman).consumed Amarnath.And the part time, innocuous looking Larry Gomes, snubbed Yashpal Sharma.The scoreboard was reading 100 for four.It was lunch and I would like to go home, just fr a break.

"We have to go the cloth shop." Babuji announced,"We need to give some clothes t be stitched for you."
"I have sufficient Babuji." I said,"I don't need any new clothes."
"No, you don't.You are in engineering college now. Not in the school anymore. You should dress properly."
"Can we go tomorrow?" I reluctantly asked.
"We are going NOW. No tomorrow or the day after.Do I need to get ‘Muhurt’for that ?" He asked.
I was speechless.
"Ok, tell me, what important work you are doing ?"
Again I was speechless.
"Do you think lightening struck twice at the same place? Do you think everyday is Sunday ? Do you think you can cook twice in the same wooden pot ?" He declared,"No, be realistic.India is not going to beat West Indies twice.That happened once and you guys should be content and proud and satisfied with that.No, nothing against Kapil and his team. They have done tremendous job. But be realistic and get back to the business."
I still did not say anything.
"Come on.We are not going to spend the whole day in the shop.We will  buy the cloth, you give the measurement and then we are back."
But going out with Babuji was never as simple as he thought. Even  though, we went to Sector Six market, which was a little away from our sector, but every now and then, someone or other would say,"Are Thakur saab." And they would shake hands , chitchat and then Babuji would say, "Aur Doctor saab, baki sab thik?".The we we would go about ten steps and another fellow would bump into,"Are Thakur saab.Aaj yahan kahan?" My patience was waning. After we bought the clothes from "DCM Cloth centre" and I stood up in front of tailor for my measurement, I had a sigh of relief.Now, I could go back to my 'business'.
But suddenly another shop keeper bumped into 'Thakur saab'.He happened to Babujis school friend.He dragged Babuji to his shop and ordered the 'sharbat'. And there, I sneaked away stealthily. I know Babuji wuld not care or mind or be anxious for me. After all, I was not a kid .I have spent so many years in those bazaar and streets.I won't be lost.

That was a TV shop. The shopkeeper had kept half a dozen of black and white and two colour TV  on display - different brand, different sizes.But in all those screens, I saw half a dozens Marshall(s) were coming on their run up, but whom  they were bowling to ? They were bowling to half a dozen respective Madanlal(s).Madanlal ? I looked closely to each of the screensYes, Madanlal was playing.What happened to other players ?.It was rather shocking.Patil, Kapil, Kirti Azad , Binny all gone ?

Who was playing ? Madanalal and Kirmani… What was the score ? Over ended and score board appeared…..155/8 .I tried to read score board but it looked so full. Patil made 27 with no four but one six.It seemed he just got out.
“After the Zimbabwe match, we always thought Kapil will play .But he flattered to deceive” someone commented. The crowd, which was watching the match was getting impatient and irritated .Slowly, it was thinning and vapourising .”Apna kaam karo yaar.Aaj to vaise bhi harna tha.” Another commented. Kapil made 15 in 8 balls with three fours. But was that not the way he always played? Why to blame him? Kirti Azad made zero and Roger Binny made two.
All of a sudden, mosquitoes attacked on the TV , I mean all the TVs.The dealer came out, watched the screen, immediately call the mechanic th check up the antenna. Suddenly message appeared on the screen,”Rukavat ke liye khed hai.Sorry for interruption.”
As such , the dealer was irritated, since India was doing badly.Now, it irritated him further.He howled to the crowd,”Why are you crowding here ? Are you interested to buy the TV ? If yes, please step inside.If no, then please excuse us and go back to your business.”
And the crowd disappeared in a jiffy as if it was never there. Suddenly someone tapped me from behind.It was Babuji.
In those days, when you bought a TV, and it was an occasion , like the match , you expected a lot of guests in the house.
I again went to Rajneesh’s house and saw the guests coming, discussing about the match.When they came to know that India just scored 183, they shook hands with uncle and asked permission to leave.Godamkar uncle was full of confident.Are baithiye abhi.Kya hua 183 hai to?Abhi unke bhi giraate hain…bas do overs to dekh kar jaiye.”
It was an innings break.Thanks to some stubborn batting for last last wicket by Sandhu and Kirmani, India scored 183.The extra of 20 runs was forth highest , after Srikkanth(38), Patil(27) and Mohinder (26).
With so many visitors at the innings break , only one visitor accepted Godamkar uncle’s request of ‘two overs’.
What happened in two overs ?
Kapil picked up the ball. Hey , just look at the field. Just see, how many fielders were stationed at attacking position vis-a-vis those, who were marshalling the boundary ?That was really amazing that Kapil set up attacking fields right from the beginning. His intention was clear. India did not have enough runs on the board to defend. It could win the match only by attack. It had nothing to lose.and fielders ? Just see their body language ? No shoulder dropping, no disappointment on the face.They were all brimming with energy.
Kapil started the over.Greeneidge took a single and Heyens deposited the ball to cover boundary….Four runs…No problem.Five without loss…
 Out of Godamkar uncle’s requested quota of two overs, fifty percent had gone without any significant happeneing. Sandhu started his first over.
There came the “Banana ball”, the most precious delivery Sandhu delivered in his whole Cricketing career.
Greeidge was cool.There were plenty of overs spared to get meager 183.No need to panic. He did the right thing to shoulder arms for a delivery started a foot and a half from outside the off stump, As if it was a guided missile , it swung late and strike top of the off stump.
Unbelieveable…..Gadamkar uncle was ecstatic. We were all thrilled Greenidge was out. I could still remember the replay and after that Kapil marshalling his men and arranging the field for the newcomer who, for those who don’t know him , was ‘Gabbar Singh’ of West Indian batting line up.

Yes sir, I am not joking. His on field aura was so menacing and frightening  that it could match only with Gabbar Singh. Always unshaved, chewing gum, twirling the bat, head slightly inclined, looking at the bowler with utmost disdain. How many times we had seen him with baited breath in those years? He never tried to or had to throw his weight around, as he straightway occupied the centre stage whenever he came out of the hut.
He was maverick, mercurial Vivian Richards.
It took just one ball to show his intention. That ball was dispatched to midwicket for four.
“He was playing like that he wanted to finish the match in thirty overs .” Kapil had said that in post match conference, Even if he did not say, anyone could judge his intentions .Next over from Kapil Dev, he hammered another two boundaries.
Suddenly, once again mosquitoes attacked the TV.
Godamkar uncle was puzzled.He asked Rajneesh,”Go and check the antenna.”
It was dark.Me and Rajneesh climbed to the roof in jiffy. Suddenly Godamkar uncle called us, “Come down.It is again linkage failure.”
We came down.The announcer was showing regrets.
As such, it was 8-40 and news time.The spinning globe was appearing on screen.
I rushed to home. That was the last time, I saw the final match on TV.
It was Madanlal’s over when Richards hit three fours in succession.
There was a small cabin in the courtyard where I locked myself. The study table, on  which I spent many hours solving the sums of  Co Ordinate Geometry and Trigonometry in school days, I kept the transistor and was listening the happening on the Lord’s ground. Madanlal was bowling to Richards. The same Madanlal, for which Richards had commented few days back, ”The way he ran and jump, I thought I’ll face the searing pace of Holding or Garner. But I have to wait for his ball..”
First ball, Richards smashed it through Mid Wicket for four runs.
I thought I heard a tap on the door.
Sister was calling me for the dinner, ”Everyone is waiting .”She said.

‘Everyone’ meant, Babuji and my elder brother, who was in Jabalpur Engineering College.
Going for a dinner had some process attached to that I had to wash hands and legs, wipe them with towel and then go and join them.I got up from the chair, locked the door of the cabin.
Rchards pulled Madanlal over Sqaure Leg for another four..
I went to the bathroom, I was washing my legs .Damn, Richards drove another ball through extra cover and it was another four.

In those days, we did not have anything like dining table. There was a dining space. We had to sit on a very low wooden seat, barely three inches above the ground. As a classical Indian gentle man, we had to sit on it cross legged. The transistor was kept in the middle.
Dinner also meant that you could not listen to ‘Binaca Geet Mala’ or any program other than the news. It was prime time news time – 8:45 (Paune Nou).Babuji wanted to listen and made us listen nothing but ‘Akashwani’ news, both Hindi and English. But that day, still I kept the B.B.C. commentary on. I was getting irritated and it was an act of rebellion –‘Sarfaroshi Ki Tamanna’ however symbolic it might be I wanted to keep the commentary on till last moment.But God, please. Richards should not hit another boundary.
God not only obliged my prayer but did something more which change the mood of everyone.
We started the  dinner. The moment I broke the first Roti , Hayenes got out.
For a moment, I thought, God, let the commentator amend his mistakes and tell us , it was Richards. But no, Indians got the wrong man out. Anyway, wicket was a wicket – significantly, it came as against the run of the play. The scoreboard had already touched fifty in no time.
Well, God was just smiling ! The turn of Richards also came in a space of two overs. .
New comer Lloyd pulled up the muscle and just out Haynes was summoned to run for him.
Richards lifted the ball over Mid Wicket. Commentator was describing that Patil was running from Square Leg.Before he could reach the ball.The ball hang in the air, not to touch the ground. And the commentator shouted,”Richards out.Caught Kapil Dev bowled Madanlal.”
I was jubilant. Everyone was excited. Everyone was trying to be calm and hide the emotion.Remember, we were at dinner table.But where did Kapil come from ? Commentator was telling Patil ran from Square leg? Even if you see the replay of the catch today, Kapil came from Widish mid on and would not be in frame till the last moment.
Ironically, Richards was calling for two runs to Hayenes who was running for Lloyd. He might have anticipated that the ball would not go to boundary , but he never thought that Kapil would pluck it off from thin air.

Anyway, I was so thrilled that like an obedient boy I picked up the transistor , changed the band and trying to find Akashwaani Raipur.
Babuji said,”It is ok.Just let me listen to the headlines. Then you guys can continue with commentary.”
It was just two minutes to nine. Devki Nanadan Pandey,the news reader ,in his booming voice, told us the weather report, “Garaj ke saath chhinte” and then  announced,”Ant main mukhya samachar ek baar fir…”…And hello, what had happened! Normally, the sports news in headlines were either omitted or told as forth and last head lines. That day, just getting out of Richards made him to rearrange the news order and sports news – yes, in those days, Cricket was just a sports – jumped into two notched up and read as a second headlines.
After that, it was six time “Tuk, Tuk Tuk” and English news started. Khamala Singh ( or Kamla Singh or Gamala Singh, sorry, I would never know her name) started the news and yes, sports news was at second slot.
“Enough”, surprisingly, it came from Babuji, “Go back to B.B.C.”
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And it seemed that our dinner had charmed to tilt the balance of luck  in favor of India.
 The wicket of Richards galvanized the despondent Indian team..They were pouncing on the ball.Lloyd had pulled his groin muscles and he was playing with a runner.Suddenly Indians chocked all the outlets of run flow and Madan and Binny, with their constrained talent as compare to flamboyance of  West Indian bowlers, bound both the batsmen. On the other hand, West Indians tottered , lurched , staggered ,wobbled at that hour West Indies had to suffer further smack of intrigue. The tension mounted to such a magnitude that the  person, having ocean like patience , Gomes, poked the ball outside the off stump and Gavaskar accepted the catch with a infinite gratitude.

The agony of Lloyd came to an end. His foot work were frozen due to cramp..He charged Roger Binny's ball through the extra cover and Kapil picked a straightforward catch.Both the wickets fell on 66
.Slowly, India clawed his way back to the match.
More drama to be unfolded.....
I never ate such a delicious dinner in my entire Life. I mean,how many times to you have the best batsmen of the  mightiest team to be part of your repast ? I wanted it to last as long as possible. Others were about to finish and I was barely half way through. I had to catch up...But listen ... wait..Dujon was almost run out by a direct throw from Srikkanth , but umpire thought otherwise. There were no third umpires to be referred in those days , otherwise he was in deep trouble. I was hurriedly gulping , then suddenly Baccus was out.Oh boy, they were not allowing me to finish my dinner.This time, it was Sandhu's turn to strike. Baccus tried to slash a widish delivery and Kirmani took the catch almost in front of first slip.
The World champions were slumped to 76 for six.
Voice of America might be regretting at that time, since , when Richards was playing, moved by sheer anticipation, they had already declared West Indies winning the World Cup third consecutive time.

 "Where are you lost ? Finish your dinner fast. You believe that if you stay here for sometimes more India is going to win the match ?Are you dreaming that you are bowling for India  from dinning space and responsible for all the dismissal in this half an hour? Nice lessons from Engineering college..."It was difficult to conceal your intentions from Babuji.
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Really, if you followed the match that night -you know,my good luck charm was left at the dinning place. West Indies kept on nudging the runs, here and there.Marshall and Dujon, both were playing coolly. To my disappointment, Dujon pulled Sandhu's
ball for a six. They crossed hundred mark.The partnership was crystallizing in some menacing shape.The unfinished task, which were to be accomplished by Richards,
Greenidge and Lloyd, were being done by Marshall and Dujon.I could understand the psyche of Marshall He was so sure of winning the cup that during the innings break, he
had even booked a new BMW for himself.He was making it sure that he had money to fill up the gas in his new BMW.
I was alone, sitting at the porch of the house. All other family members were asleep. I was just looking down the street. The two TV owner neighbours were still awake.I could see their drawing room light wavering.That was - tube lights fused with TV light.That means, transmission had resumed.However, I did not have any desire to go back to Rajneesh house .
The match was slipping away slowly from India's grasp. Marshall and Dujon were inching towards a victory, which , to my opinion, did not come automatically to them.They had to earn it.
But wait .... Shhhhhh ...
Oh yes.I could hear loud shout on Godamkar uncle's TV and in next second, radio commentators confirmed it.
Dujon was bowled by Amarnath. Yes, it was innocuous looking inswinger from Mohinder.Dujon shouldered arms.The ball hit the gloves and the hit the stump.
Thank God for the seventh wicket.
And in a space of one over, Amarnath claimed Marshal also. Gavaskar made his presence felt.He held the catch at slip.
No, now I decided not to change my sitting posture. Mosquitoes were feasting on my blood and I had to get up and adjust the position of the chair. But no, I would not get up and do anything which could disturb the god luck charm of India.

And Kapil's ball rapped on Roberts pad. Kapil jumped into the air, appealed and umpire endorsed. Roberts was LBW.
India was just one wicket away from the victory. Kapil was impatient to claim the wicket. But Garner and Holding hold the fort valiantly like last brave soldiers. Kapil applied Madan and Binny also.But those two survived and pushed the score nicely.The runs put by India on the scoreboard was so inadequate that even a small partnership like that looked intimidating. Madan even finished his quota and hence,bowling assignment of the Third World Cup.
Kapil called back Mohinder again.
The ball rapped on the pad and all of a sudden, all the lights were on. Those , who were listening the commentary , were on the streets.
It was simply amazing.Ten minutes back, the street was sleeping like a ghost.Now it looked like the night of Holi.I could hear the drum beats and shouting from distant and
near.No, probably, it was Deewali. I did not know, how the guys had acquired the fire crackers in June and from where. But all those questions were irrelevant.I was still listening the commentary.Suddenly Babuji came, half in the sleep.
"What is this noise ? Halla Gulla ? " He asked.
"India has won the World Cup." I announced.
"Oh Really ? Kapil and his team did it.Fantastic.",He was happy, "So these guys are celebrating. I got it. But what are you doing ?"He asked.
"Listening."
"Listening what ?"
"Comentory." I replied.
"But you said India won it. I thought the match was over."
"Yes, it is over. I am just listening the score card" I said.
"Do you think that the scorecard will change overnight?" He asked.
"No."
"Is it fixed in time ?" He wanted to make it sure.
"Yes , I think so."
"Then switch off the transistor, come inside and sleep.You can read score card tomorrow in news paper.Nothing is going to change runs,scored,fall of the wicket, bowling analysis .... No body will dare to touch it.... come and sleep. By the way, you were following the match whole day , still you need score card to be read..."
===============================================================
Effusive,Hailing, Heralding,Applouding, Gloat Over ....
Call me dumb, if that was precisely what I was  waiting impatiently since the rise of morning stars at my gate.
That was very early morning.Waiting , waiting waiting.
"Waiting for the newspaper ?" Babuji asked.
"Yes", I admitted.But why ? for those highly ornated words, which were dried since long in India, specially in sporting arena ?Yes, , I have gone nuts...
.
"Hey, do something constructive." He handed me the milk container ,"Go and get the milk. Have you gone crazy?Waiting for the news paper, just to read four line "Stop Press News" or at the most, reporting of first half of the match ?You followed it throughout
yesterday. You must be knowing much more than that.Early morning ... Newspaper ..uh..and they say it is the best time to connect to God..."
Reluctantly, swiveling the aluminum container in hand, I headed for the public milk booth.
Contrary to my imagination, there were lot many guys at the milk booth.They kept their containers in one long queue, and themselves formed the group of three ,four  or more guys and chatting.That was the best pastime while waiting for Milk van, to vent their
frustrations, to share the joy and whatever those "Nav Ras " suggests , except ,off course "Shringar". Yes, romance was simply inapposite.
Usually, uncles formed their own group, chitchatting about their growing sons and their career path. Aunts and young girls, they normally form another group. My childhood friends formed another group., We used to converse about sports, film and what else ? No, if something required whispering or chuckling, we used to go away further , keeping one eye on the path where milk van would appear eventually to restore the order. That day, casting away the convention of seniority and juniority, uncles and teenage boys seemed to mingle. They
were talking about a single topic, I know, you know and everyone knows.
"Hey Vijay.Did you see the match last night ?"
"No", I replied,"I rather listened." That was a partial truth but yes, a better answer at that moment.
"Oh boy.You don't know what have you missed?I saw it on TV .All the action, till Door Darshan dropped the shutters. You know, there was an uncle at the corner of street 4 Thorough gentleman... he allowed us to stand in lawn and kept this drawing room window open. Well, how can he allow such a crowd to let in the drawing room ? It was not possible.However, we saw everything from his lawn. The lawn was packed  to the nines and you know, I am a little short and I stood a little behind. I had to stand on my toes constantly. See , it is still aching. But yes, it was worth. Each wicket tumbled and guys would rejoice in the lawn ... No, no, no whistling , see it was a gentleman's house with young daughter...Remember the man
followed Roberts and gave him advice... How funny ... and who was lying on the ground when the match was over. ?Was he Holding ? No someone else ..and awesome Kapil shook the Champaign bottle and what a shower it was...Srikkanth was smoking. Mohinder took out his red handkerchief from his pocket and waved it like a victory
flag."
"Wait a minute." I interrupted jealously, "Was it black and white or coloured TV?"
"Black and white.Why?"
"Then How do you know it was red handkerchief ?" I
tried to nail him.
"Oh boy.The whole world knows about his lucky red handkerchief, poking out of his pocket all the times. The whole world, except you."
=======================================================================
Contrary to Babuji's remark, it was not four liner
"Stop Press" or just half baked report of Indian innings.It was a full fledged , half a page , front page topmost priority headlines news .Just imagine, out of the total six pages, the half a page news weighing heavily, pushing all the news to be shrunk or consigned to back  pages. I didn't have any clue, how did they arrange so quickly, the photograph of Kapil, brimming with the trophy.
Babuji came from bath.
"So, what was the final score " He asked.
"It has not changed since last night.Frozen in the time" I  replied." That is on the newspaper."
"No, I don't have time to go through the whole score card. I have to go for the meeting and I know, everyone will be talking about it.Just tell me briefly. What was the score? Who hit the century?"
"Babuji, you know , it was a low scoring match Just 183 and 140.How can you expect  a century?"
"Ok, Ok.I got it .It was low scoring match. Now, then how  many 'ducks' ?That will be interesting ."
"Just one."
"Just one? In low scoring match ? Are you sure ? It may be misprinting."
"No, it was one and only 'duck'  .I know. He was Kirti Azad "
"Kirti Azad? First name Hindu , last name Muslim ? Sounds familiar. I know only one such peson. Minister Bhagawat Jha Azad."
"You hit the point. He is son of Bhagawat Jha Azad."
"Oh really?" Babuji was delighted,"Then it will be an interesting topic to initiate the coffee discussion. Nice, now , I can handle any conversation on World Cup."
Babuji tilted his blue scooter , kicked , kicked , kicked and kicked. On forth kick, scooter started and Babuji was on his way  to the college.
===============================================================
"O Tera Kya kahana?"
Well, that was the World Cup officially known as Prudential Cup Cricket 1983 , which I experienced mostly on wheels - trains, bus, bicycle, scooter.If you still have the energy and patience for my comment, I would say that it was a team effort and being the underdogs helped. Before the tournament, the world knew India had only one bowler to cop up with. But when Kapil failed, Madan and Binny fired.The same thing was true for batting. It was never a cause of worry that India’s greatest batsman Gavaskar hardly contributed. Yashpal, Srikkanth, Patil were always there shoulder the responsibility.In a team of young, experienced seasoned Mohinder perfectly blended as yeoman.

.....One and a half month passed.
That was return journey from Bhilai.I could sense the change in the air. No, I am not talking about the weather. Yes, weather had changed alright. When I was coming, it was scorching, peak of summer. Now, Indian monsoon had relented the relief. You just need to turn your neck and look outside the window. The farmers of Vidarbha were ploughing. The primitive method of farming still involved ox and plough .You could make out the almost all the family , right from the baby girl to grand old man- everyone was contributing one way or the other.. That was a treat to watch.. But hey, I was not talking about change in weather.

Remember my downward journey? Almost one and half month back ? The train was moving forward, the reminiscence of downward journey harked –back.

To begin with, I would like to demonstrate you how fifteen paise yellow post card said so many things in such a few words.
Here it is. The sender was some Roy - Probably Sanjay Roy You are awake? I am glad. Yes, he was the same good friend Sanjay Roy Bhopali. If I see the post mark,the date was mentioned as June 26, 1983.That fellow had mentioned even the time 0:45 hours. I received it three days later.
The content was concise, but optimum. It was something like that .
"Thakur, you must be happy now. India has won the World Cup. At last, you need not to go for 'Khokhale Kahkahe'. I'll wait for a treat of 'Patti' at our 'khoka ' from you."
Yours Truly - Sanjay Roy"

Did he need to write more ? Do I need to elaborate more ? Probably not. That post card described a lot.
And my room mate - Ajay Saxena ?So after Roy , you want to know about him.
Please allow me to do a little fast forward for that.
When we were back for the third semester, it was just second day when he told me , "Today, I saw 'Sun'( remember the long magazine ?) at Bunti's khoka. It has a nice king sized Kapil Dev's pin up.We will paste it in our new room."
I did not show much interest ,"Haan, Hun, Ok, Fine, no problem."
But within next two hours he bought the magazine. What was the hurry ?
"See Thakur,Bunti keepsonly one or two copies of such magazines. I didn't want that someone else would grab it .And see, that nice poster is for you. Look at it, wow ! Is the poster  not  nice ?"
I did now know, what to say. Normally, I would prefer some action photo - directly from the ground bowling or batting. In that photo - he was just chilling out. Both the hands behind the head, fingers entwined, blue jersey , in a relaxed mode - laughing , as always.

After the room allotment, we got room 129.That was 'B' block ground floor, adjacent to the bathroom. The wall attached to the bathroom was slightly damp. At least, it was looking terribly ugly. The six feet long, three feet wide horizontal poster came handy. Kapil  effectively hid that ugly patch of water seepage for the whole year - laughing innocently in the relaxed mood.
It was one of those tranquil days of weekend. Under the poster of Kapil, Sanjay Roy was showing us the photographs of Chandigarh and Pinjore trip. New room mate, Veenu joined us..
"But I could not see Thakur anywhere.Where is he ? "He was curious. "Ok, let me show you ." Roy laughed. He pulled out a photograph of Pinjore Garden, where Uprit , Junior and Senior Saxena was dancing on water flow. I was standing a little away on the side, transistor firmly pushed against my ears.. In fact, I did not want myself to be included in the picture .I was standing sufficiently clear from the place. But in the camera of those days, you would be getting wider picture than what you saw in view finder.

That day was saved for India by someone, who was laughing over our head..

Welcome back from Fast Forward. We were inside Chhattisgarh Express,
moving towards Kurukshetra. For the 'n' th time, I repeat, I could sense conspicuous change in the air.
Durg was never the same again.
Gondia was never the same again.
Nagpur was never the same again.
Bhopal was never the same again.
Delhi was never the same again.
India was never the same again.

Remember the film ? When Amitabh emerged out of the godown, it was not "The End".It was rather beginning.
Beginning of the new life of Amitabh.
Amitabh was never the same again..He was lured by glitter of money.His life was marred by glamour and risk .He did not do all the things right- most of them were dangerously wrong. But he hardly cared for anything in the pursuit of nothing. In the process of gradual transform, he steadily became more and more alienated from his family - brother and Maa. And Oh Boy, he always thought he was doing it for Maa ...

So sir, coming out of the godown was just beginning.

Strangely, Bizarre enough, the same fate was mapped perfectly for Indian Cricket. It was lured and later hijacked by vulgar money and glamour. All of a sudden from the dune of sand, a megacity emerged as busy Cricketing centre - Sharjah. Like Amitabh, smugglers and outlaws were seen adulterating the very soul of Cricket. The dangerous flirt slowly blossomed to such an extent that it became increasingly difficult to retain sense of
proportion. In that process, the game gradually became alienated from its rightful followers and viewers.
Like Amitabh, Indian Cricket claimed that everything it was doing for "Maa" - the sincere followers, who ,one day came to know about ugly nexus of betting and match fixing, helplessly saw the vulgar dance of belly dancers in the field and extravaganza of fire crackers just in the name of adding "glamour".

Everything sparked by two innocuous incidence in World Cup 1983 final. N.K.P.Salve, the board president of BCCI, wanted to entertain his friends to watch the match from V.I.P. gallery. Lords officials denied the extra passes to him. Stung by that, Salve vowed to estrange the World Cup from England and decided to bring the next edition of mega event into the sub- continent. How he got it by politics and other power was a different
story.

The another incidence was directly linked with acquisitiveness for hard currency. Indian  team received 20,000 pounds  as prize money. Industrialist Swaraj Paul pondered that it was not sufficient for the effort of his countrymen. He announced 2500 pounds on the spot to their kitty. The board decided the players to give five lakhs each and imbibed NKP Salve , drown in Champagne , announced one lakh extra - tax free.

But where was the money ? Believe me, the coffer of BCCI was not that big in those days, even though , then also, they were the richest board . Raj Singh Dungarpur persuaded Lata Mangeshkar for "Musical Nite" in Wankhede stadium. Jagmohan Dalmiya  was the organizer of the event and Mr. Bindra was secretary.
There, they realized the substance of money.
What happened later, all of you guys have seen over the years. Perhaps, we would revive and recall it later. I have to pull down the shutters. Before winding up, I would like to narrate a couple of events out of many incidents which I still remember on my way back to Kurukhetra and  which reflected what I meant by "change in the air"..So ,to remind you , I was in train - Chhattisgarh Express .
===============================================================
Frankly, I had also changed .I was not the same devout fan of the game. At least, I lost half of the interest if not total. I felt nauseated when I saw, everyone was talking about Cricket in the compartment. I never knew that overnight, India had produced so many experts if not players. Nagpur, Bhopal , Gwalior - in all those stations the traditional toys of dolls , cars , masks, whistles, fiddles , paper fans , balloons disappeared and they
were replaced plastic bats and balls. Even playing cards, stickers, posters were showing the color of  Cricket. And those stuffs were being sold as hot cakes. Bookstalls were flooded with large number of extra copies of  magazines like "Sports Week" and "Sports Stars", "Khel Bharti" - covered with Cricket only. Still customers were asking for bizarre magazines ,"'Cricket Samrat' hai ?'Cricket Bharti' hai? Do you have Cricket special edition of 'Dharmyug' and 'Saptahik Hindustan'??" And believe me, the book stall guys were quick enough to supply the demand with immaculate efficiency.. Sometimes they would say," Nahin sahib, khatam ho gayi. You take 'Cricket Bazar' instead. I am sure , you won't be disappointed."

So the first incident happened somewhere after Gwalior.You know, there were different types of beggars in train in those days. Someone would play 'tick tick tick' musical instrument and ask for money. Someone would come with a small kid, who would show some acrobatics and then his sister would sing a song and they would collect the money. Some kid would simply hold your legs closed the eyes and do nothing. They would be in frozen state till you threw some coins for them.

They were two brothers, barely five or six years old. They came with their father, who had 'dugdugi' in hand. One of them mimicked the bowling action of bowlers , on demand. Someone from the crowd demanded, "Madanlal" .He ran , jumped and open chasted hurled the bowl. His father collected a 'chavanni'. Someone would say, 'Mohinder', he would run slowly and sent down the ball.He had even mastered the bowling action
of Abdul Qadir ,Imran which he must have seen in any of the highlight.

The other one was batting expert, as per his father.But he was not as talented as his brother. Poor fellow could not differentiate in Richards and  Yashpal Sharma. Nevertheless, he also collected a lot of coins.
 =========================================================
From Delhi, I boarded on Kalka Express ,since Chhattisgarh was going through Saharanpur, Ambala route.
Kalka Express reached Kurukshetra at around 2.30 AM.,early morning.I never knew so many RECKERS were traveling in the train. However, when I got down, I saw so numerous faces streaming out from here and there,,which I believed, I had seen in campus.
The major problem was, how to get back from Station to RECK.Most of the times, it was tough to find rickshaw wala outside the station in V hours. If you discovered  one and
mostly they would be sleeping, it was equally tough to wake them up. Even if you get them wake up, they had all the rights to refuse to go to the hostel.
This time, I was traveling alone. All other Bhilai seniors, either they went for industrial traing and coming directly from those places , or ,had already returned since final year semester was supposed to begin a week early.
There, I saw Begali , Kundu.. My strength was doubled. I called him,"Kundu".
He turned and looked back, but his gaze did not zeroed on my face. It went over it. He did not stop and kept on walking with his seniors.I went and tapped him from behind, "Hey Kundu. It's me."
That fellow did not recognize me. He asked in English, "Who are you?"
I was crestfallen ,"Kundu, I am Thakur .Recognize me ?I am your batchmate." "I don't know you." He said flatly.. What an awkward situation it was !
 "Hey come on Kundu." Then I tried to convince the senior ,"Believe me sir.I am from RECK.Here is my I-card"I pulled out the I-Card.
"Gosh , it is not required." The senior smiled, "I have seen you in the college."Kundu was still unconvinced, "In which floor you are ? Who are your  room mates? Where are you from ?Oh you said M.P. Can you name a batch mate from M.P. who is Bengali?"

My God...That fellow had forgotten everything in vacation or aftermath of euphoria of the World Cup? Then I met a few Orriya seniors. They were nice gentlemen

Getting the rickshaw was a common problem. It was decided that few of them would go out, leaving their luggages behind  and find out the rickshaw others would wait for them.
There , in the waiting room, I consumed the last bitter dose of Cricket.
He was Orriya senior, thick specs, name I could not recall, (some Rout).He asked me ,"Have you seen the world cup matches ?"
"We don't have TV."That was not his answer, but it was not a lie either."That was terrific. When they started the World Cup campaign, no one had ever thought that they could defeat any team other than Zimbabwe."
"You are right sir." Oh God, if they were not going to get rickshaw soon, I was going to be fainted then and there.
"And they had beaten West Indies twice. Mighty West Indies.Perfect story of David and Goliath,underdogs, dark horses"
"Yeah , Yeah..", I pretended to be an earnest listener. God, how difficult it was. He went on analyzing the team performance and I could not even yawn. He said, "I am from Cuttack. They have allotted a One Day match against the upcoming tour of West Indies .See in Cuttack, India have never lost a match."
"Oh really ? " I exclaimed, wondering how many matches had been played till that day on Barabati Stadium.
Problem was, I could not yawn, I could not wink. "You know, this Indian team is a losely knit team.
Never mind, Gavaskar did not score much. He loves Cuttuck ground. He will surely score a century over there. The main strength of Indian team is fielding."
I dozed and dozed hard. So hard that when Kundu shook me , I was laying on the floor of waiting room like a drunkard.
===============================================================
In rickshaw, I was sitting with Kundu. Seniors made the arrangement that guys from same hostel would share the rickshaw so that he did not have to go to one hostel to another. .I was sitting with Kundu.Till Bramh Sarovar, neither he nor I spitted even a single word.Then suddenly he asked,"Do you like to come back to hostel Thakur?"
"Why ?  I don't know. Probably, I don't like."I said.
"Exactly. You know, when I was coming out of home, I felt like a newly married daughter, who was going to her husband's house."
I was so much exaulted that probably, I would have tumbled down from  rickshaw. At last, oh God, at the last lag of my journey , barely half a kilometer before the destination point, I found someone.I found someone, who was still immune to the new disease. Who
could still think about something else. Whose mind was still sterile from the germs of Cricket.
"You are right Kundu." I said only that with voice choked with  emotions It was the need of the hour to buckle up my euphoria. Why ? Why do you say why?? We were passing the darkest zone near 'Pahli Patshahi' gurudwara at three O'Clock in the morning. Did you expect me to howl in delight at top of my voice ?
=============

P.S. _ When Amitabh realised and wanted to trace back to Maa, it was too late.There, I sincely wish that the fate in the film script would not match the game of Cricket.From the clutches of the politicians, mafia, film stars, alcohol sellers and last but not the least, betters and match fixers, it should come back to the sports lovers.Otherwise, all the glorious uncertainities would be looked with the microscope of suspicion,every now and then fans would feel let down, camera would follow the players for heir off the field activities .... Who knows, probably, then Hanumanji at Zakhu will listen to my prayer again.

The Arduous Train Voyages and Sindbad III

Voyage Two – World Cup on Wheels – Part 2

Believe me.I was shaking with trepidation and anticipation.
Kapil stood tall two feet ahead from the rest. He looked relaxed while tapping a ball with the bat, but I knew the furor going  in his mind.. On his left side, Sandhu and Madanlal edgily gripped the  balls in their hand. Glancing on the right side, I could identify Yashpal Sharma , Patil and Srikkanth swinging bats in air, raring to go .Kapil looked stern. Then he shouted, "And where is Roger Binny?"
Binny was furtively smoking at remote corner. He quickly puffed twice or thrice and  threw his cigarette on the melting snow , came running and joined the brigade.
But where was Gavaskar ? I skimmed down and down further. There he was.. Sitting on a rock with "Nawabi Chhadi(Royal Stick)" in his hand. One leg crossed on the other Yes, it seemed to be my walking stick which I bought from Shimla in the exchange of sweat and blood money of Babuji, which I saved over the months by cutting the corners .His pose could give a complex to Dev Anand at his best.
Kapil barked,"Guys, before they attack us, let us overwhelm them."
Amarnath nodded solemnly ,"Absolutly.If we can not bury them, they will bury us."
Suddenly a barrage of fire boomed the air. There they came. There, behind the hill. I could identify Kim Hughes, Marsh, Border, Graham Yellop, Lily, Rodney Hogg. They tried to hide themselves, walking cautiously , sometimes running , sometimes stopping, sometimes bending. Kapil just kept his hands raised and allow them to come near and within the  range. Suddenly he commanded , "Fire".
All of a sudden, all the bats metamorphosed into raging machine guns and ball, hand grenades. Intense firing from rival sides rumbled the hills. ....

Suddenly, the booming became softer and milder. It was "swish , swish, swish" rather than "boom boom ".It was approaching closer and closer.
Before some unpleasant “Bohni Batta” happened early in the morning,I opened my eyes and jumped and wrapped the bedsheet in jiffy. That was the sweeper, washing platform number one of Hazrat Nizamuddin on the early morning of June 20
In the age of electronic media, TV to be specific, do you need dreams anymore to echo your turmoil ? Others are paid to imagine the visuals for you ,produce and present with digital sounds, sleek photography and priest tolling the bells and lot of girls dancing .Of course, at the end, the players will imbibe some soft drinks or sell anything but Cricketing gears.
*******************************
Chhattisgarh Express... I got the berth this time without much problem,thanks to the telegram message sent by Kurukshetra Station Master. My name was figured on waiting list when I checked the list yesterday evening. Railways decided to add two additional sleeper bogies keeping summer rush in mind and I was through.
When Chhattisgarh Express came and new bogies were attached, I was not in a hurry to rush in. What should I run and dodge and  push and huff and puff ? I had valid reservation and Chhattisgarh would stay there for half an hour. Those , who panicked , I felt pity for them.
.
At last, when I entered, a uncouth shock spitted on my face blatantly..
Some three four Marwadi , with big pagadi , dhoti and kept their legs up , were sitting there. Not a single inch of space was left in my coupe to keep my bag. Lazy overconfident cat VS Thakur! That was destined to happen. They had spread the newspaper .on the seat and were eating dry puri and and probably Kachouri.
 I just stood and looked at them.
“Reservation compartment hai yeh.(This is reservation compartmnt)” One of them informed me,”Go back.Unreserved compartment is two bogies from here. Rush Bhaya ,otherwise, you know. It is summer time.”
“I got the reservation”, I enlightened them, much for their exasperation..
“Ke number hai (What is the number)? Dikha ticket (show me the ticket)? “ One of them challenged.
No doubt, that was just beginning of the journey.
I showed them ticket.One of them checked it,”61 ? That is top berth.Yes, you can go up.”
“Where will I keep the bag ? “ I asked.
They looked around. No place was left for me.. They were traveling with big black tin trunks, securely locked , some sacks and a number of leather bags. – peeping, glaring ,winking me -under the seat, space between the two seats, even the space beneath the side seats ….Were they going for marriage (summer is always marriage time in the plains). There was a young fellow sitting with them on seat for three ,half of the weight on toes.That posture suggested that he was a short distance traveler…..Nice grey bell bottom , red shirt loosely rugged in, comb peeping out from back packet, a small bag in hand.
 I was at my wit’s very end , where had I got trapped.
They were talking about Indira Gandhi and her virulent  policies. As it was fashion in those days, guys would vote Congress into power then target it in all public conversation. Then they were talking about Maruti, which was supposed to be launched shortly..
Incidently, the newspaper they were using as a paper plate, contained the heroic innings of Kapil against Zimbabwe. It was sad to see that in the background of oily food stuffs, he was willowing his bat .
I was just listening, waiting for some favorable topic to drop in when I could open my mouth.
When the topic came, my mouth opened robotically. I could not uttered a single word, as if my jaws were frozen by quickfix. But what they said , reflected the point of view of the majority in the nation. Sadly, it was about Cricket only.
The temporary traveler , just pulled the ‘paper plate’carefully and started reading the news about Kapil’s innings.
“That was a great innings uncleji.” He innocently expressed his view.
“kya bole babuji ? Cricket ? kahan ho rahaa hai ? sab tamasha hai  .Isase Desh ki garibi dur koi nahin hogi  .Hoggi kya ? Bolo babuji, aap to padhe kikhe hain...Sab khel tamasha hai... Road ke kinare dekha hai naa, ek nat rassi par chalataa hai? bas vohi tamasha .Hamne to bas wahi do roti khani hai babuji ….”(what did you say ?Cricket?Where is it going on ?all farce...It won't eradicate poverty/Will it ? Tell me sir.You are educated.All mindless entertainment it is ... you must have seen some roadside show.Someone walking on tight rope ...exactly the same mindless entertainment.We have to eat the same bread .. no change).
Had it dampened my spirit in any way ? No sir, I did not want to argue with them.True, at that moment, I was startled to see the apathy of common Indian masses, but well, they had their interest, I had mine.Unless those interests did not cross , who cared and why ?
All I needed was a transistor. Alas, Saxena’s transistor. Oh Saxena’s transistor. My best friend till day before yesterday. Where are you now dear, dear pal ?
The train crossed Vallabhgarh.The fellow got down at ‘Raja Ki Mandi’.
As such, the space was packed with the luggage.I could not sit down and spread my leg.I had to confine with the top berth, sleeping or half laying.just beneath the hot steel top of the bogie, with the fans, blowing the hot air at full blast
I slept and slept. It was a dreamless sleep.
===============================================================
“Don’t disturb me.I am sleeping.”
            “Please ..Please let me sleep.”
“Respected sir.I beg your pardon.Excuse me please.Please let me sleep.
I was barely aware that someone was shaking my leg. I heard a booming voice of senior Marwadi,”Tikkat dikha de Bhaya. .fir so liyo.(show your ticket brother.Then sleep)”
I opened my eyes reluctantly. Yes, it was T.T. only.
I quickly opened the zip of my bag and pulled out I Card.Ticket was crumpled over there.I asked the T.T. , where we were.
“Don’t worry.You have long way to go. Bhagwan ki daya se Bina aane wala hai(With God's grace, we are approaching to Bina)”.
“What ? “ I woke up and slid down, glanced at the watch. It was well past four O’Clock. I looked outside.
Still , it was sweltering and sunny outside. Now, I could see that two railway tracks were multiplied to four and the eight. Now, I could see  a number of engines stationed here and there. Now, I could see the thick pipelines, running parallel to the platforms. All those indicated me that a big station was imminent. The train would station there for a long time and those thick pipes would be used to fill up the water tanks of the bogies of the trains , joining them with black hose hanging loosely.Chhattisgarh Express was anyway going to halt there for a long time since direction of engine was going to be changed .
What was I missing ? Yes, Saxena’s transistor. By now, one of the teams might have won the toss. One of the teams might be batting.I could not wait the train to halt completely. That was the advantage of Indian railway. Depending upon your daring and urgency, you can pick and choose speed and timing to get out of train.
Station without water ? In summer time ? Impossible in India. Never mind those dry water taps , connected in parallel and back to back – sometimes worked as wash basin , sometimes water tap, in some other time, open half bathroom too. What if they were so dry that you could see column of ants marching in and out.
“Sheetal Payjal(cold drinking water)”.Yes, the Hindi reminded me that we were in M.P.I pushed the knob again and again of the cold water machine. A very thin stream dripped out each time and then stopped within two second. No wonder, passengers were not queued up here. But where were they ?
“Seth Dharamdas Pyau”. Ok, they crowded over there, each one had one or two water bags in hand. One fellow was carrying a bucket. But there I saw, the object I  was searching for. There were six orange earthen pots “Matakaa” kept side by side, red wet clothes wrapped around them, they were placed on wet sand.A young boy,barely fourteen or fifteen years old, was fetching the water.
So it was kept on the side of the last “Matkaa”.
I weaved my way through the number of  passengers pouring over each other over there.
“What is the score ?” My demand was rather unusual for him. Suddenly I realized that the transistor was switched off.
“Do you get short wave on this? “ I asked. He understood a little,”It is five band radio.” He replied,”Just look at the size.”
In those day , the more bands you have the size would increase proportionately.
“May I have a look ?” I asked. I switched to short wave , turned the knob to 25 meter bands and tuned to the magic word, ”Lawson is back on his bowling mark. Hughes want to make some change in fielding.”
Ok, India was batting first-who was on the crease ? Come on, tell me more… quick... quick ….Suddenly , the counter boy leaped ,snatched and switched off the transistor. Fear was writ large on his face. Within split  second, another hefty fellow jumped inside and slapped him.
“Gaana sun rahohai Be Chhachhundar…. Kaam kaun karega ?Tera tau?”
“No, I was not listening to song. I was doing my job.” He sobbed.
“Jhuth bolataa hai ?.” The fellow switched on the transistor .He could  not make heads or tails of it. He switched it off again.
“Why did you bring it here on the first place ? Just to show the crowd that this you got it in your dowry ?”He shook the young boy.
==============================================================
…….The train was passing the stations. The next big station was Bhopal.Probably, I would get the clear picture by then….God, please help India today once more. Just the last time…If they lose, points would be equal for India and Australia. Then run rate would come and play. Let them lose, but not by big margin. Let them exit from World cup, but it should be graceful.
I was sure that I was not the only crazy in this country. “There must be others, one hundred percent – they must be traveling in this train too.Only thing is I need to connect them “ I thought.
Those days, the bogies of Chhattisgarh express were not connected throughout like Tamilanadu , AP or other superfast express..The reason could be, each major station, Hazrat Nizamuddin, Bina, Nagpur – added a couple of bogies separately. At the most, three bogies were interconnected.
I was sniffing for the transistor. Yes, I got. No, I have not .Yes it is … No it is blatantly not…It was better to ask the fellow who was singing the song.
“Is it two in one?” I asked the young man who was listening to “Taa Thaiyya Taa Thaiyaa Ho Ho” of Jitendra and Sridevi.
Those days, ‘two in one’ was owner’s pride.
“Yes it is.Just see, crystal clear sound ,no chee  peee. Uncle got it from Dubai. Sit down..”He invited and made space for me.
“Do you get radio also ?” I wanted to make it confirm before investing the time.
“That is precisely two in one.” He answered, humming and shaking heads sometimes alongwith the song.
“Do you get only Medium wave or short wave ?”I probed deeper, slowly moving towards target.
“Both medium and short wave one, short wave two.” He boasted.”Just see the sound. How clear it is. Can you detect any chee pee”
I sat idle there, mustering the courage, waiting for the cassette to end.In an attempt to be friendly, I even praised “Himmatwala” also brutally suppressing the voice of my conscience.When I felt comfortable and when cassette was over, I asked,”Can we listen to the commetory?Just score…”
“Oh India match ? Problem is you know, we are inside the train.You know , the signals would be weak .You know, it will eat away a lot of power and you know, my cells are weak.I am not sure if we could get it … sorry.”
I went on aimlessly in search of another “Murga” which was not there .I had to wait for Bhopal. Yes, if Saxena listened to his transistor’s inner voice, he would definitely come to the station to tell me the score.
===============================================================
I swear, I had never witnessed that big a crowd at one platform. Wherever I could see, however I could turn my neck- added by moving the shoulder, swiveling the torso on the waist- all I could see was heads and heads only. Some of them had black caps on , some of them white cap (No, not the Gandhi cap, but White cap without a brim.snuggly fit, mostly netted), some of them had covered their head with handkerchief - however , it deemed necessary. I could see bald heads, thin haired head, white haired head too. A welter of heads with different caps and no caps ….Most of them had beard , but no mostache. Those beard were dense and few of them long also. Most of the were wearing white kurta and payjama, whose legs fell somewhere between ankle and toe, but definitely , no where near touching the ground. No that it was conglomeration of stronger sex, I could see a fair amount of fair sex also, but their fairness was clad in black or grey burka. Mostly , those black dots were found in close proximity in that large canvass.The crowding was so dense and packed that it confused some of those guys in the train who had to get down without stepping into the toes of those static mass.
And the unfortunate part was - Oh God, the Marwadis had to get down at this station - Bhopal the capital of M.P.. They had jammed both the doors of the bogie with their luggage, arranging, rearranging, counting, shifting from one door to the next door in the search of certain bags apparently missed in one group. It was definite that they were going to attend the marriage. They had started their activities from Ganj Basoda and it reached to the level of panick at Vidisha. Now, when they saw the huge crowd at Bhopal station, they were near hysteric.
As soon as the train came to complete halt, the small crowd of incoming passengers launched at the door. The railway station announcer was announcing sweetly ,vaguely, but helplessly,"138 down Chhattisgarh Express platfor number 3 par aa gayi hai.Yeh Bhopal station hai.Aanewale yatriyo ka ham hardik swagat karte hain Kripya ahle utarane waale yaatriyon ko utarane dijiye."
No one heeded any attention to her calm, stereotyped voice. Pushing to each other, those passenger were desperate to get in. Marwadis hawled, "This is  reservation compartment. Go to two bogies down."
Lot of guys from crowd replied isolated and collectively. The muddled messages should be interpreted as ,"Reservation ? What reservation? This is day time. Reservation starts after nine."
The Marwadis replied,"Oh, you guys are teaching rules to us ?Don't worry, we are getting down.Let us get down first.Then see"
But they were stuck at the door like cork in the bottle.Their big tin boxes wedged at the door.They pushed the incoming guys back to the static masses assembled at the platform. There were tumult in all the respect. Both the door were jammed. It was so crowded that those, who wanted to get down, could not go to the next bogie.
By the time, dust settled down,coast was clear, I hardly had time to wander in wilderness in search of the score.
When I got down, I discovered that most of the guys in the static mass had tears trickling down from their eyes. Probably, they were waiting for some other train at platform number two, going towards Delhi, but I suspect, a single train would be sufficient to carry them to Delhi. But no, all of them were not traveling only some of them were traveling. Those , who were not, were embracing them again and again, men to men, ladies with ladies. They kept on kissing the departing kids again and again and crying. Requesting them not to go. Pleading them to stay  for another six weeks. Asking them that they would file the petition to extend their visa. On their part, the visitors consoled them, inviting them to the other side of boarder and give them a chance to show their “Mehman nawazi”.
“Ayenge Mamun. Passport ka application daal diya hai , ek saal pahle.Passport milte hi visa nikalkar ayenge.Samjhouta Express to chal rahi hai naa ..Abbu aur ammi ko lekar ayenge..”
Hardly two or three families were returning to their home , across the border. But it seemed to me that the whole Muslims of Bhopal were emotionally attached with them and pulled down their shutters to see them off.
The platform was so jam packed that even walking ten steps were strenuous.
Obviously, you can not expect from those, who were sobbing and crying , to keep track of the score.
==============================================================
Itarasi was the biggest station after Bhopal.
When the train reached there, it was the time for prime time news(8-45 ;Paune Nau ). I had to find the news. The match must be at the crucial point.
Ramanand Prasad Singh agreed with me. He was the news reader, who was reading the prime time news. That was the headlines he was reading.Without telling the score etc, he enumerated the headlines at the beginning. The forth headline was , "Cricket Vishwa Cup main Bharat aur Australia ka match romanchak dour se gujar raha hai." I did not know what was "romanchak” in the match. Without knowing the score, how can you reckon that the match was passing through the exhilarating phase ?That was the penchant of the All India Radio news in those day. They habitually enhance the trill by holding the cards of facts and data closer to chest  and passing the inference to the audience in the headlines. Specifically, when  something live was going on. Whether it was election news, live Cricket news, death toll in train accidents, flood and loss due to incessant rain or whatever - their headlines would not reveal the data.
Damn... I was boiling just like the tea pot, which was kept on the tea shop's gas burner.  All the fried snakes were available in the shop and vendor was serving the other passengers , who were in hurry as always. He had in fact asked me three times, what I needed.What I needed was being served or likely to be served by his transistor I was just listening to the wavering voice of the radio. To get the relevant news, I had to stay there till almost end of the news. I kept on changing my distance from his shop, always pacing, so that he did not suspect anything. All of a sudden , he said, "Sir, your train is leaving."
Surprised, I looked back. Yes, Chhattigarh Express was leaving.I did not hear the announcement , because my ears were tune to something else.I even missed the departing horn of the engine.
=====================================================
Itarasi came at around 9 O’Clock.After that, the only significant station was Amla. That was significant in the sense that the caterer would either supply the food to the trains or collect the aluminium plates and washed for recycling The halt duration was not that much that I would again venture around.
Now, Chhttigarh Express was chugging along  as fast passenger. To follow the ‘Dharma’ of passenger religiously, it had to stop at each and every station – somewhere for one minutes, somewhere two.Some stations had small structure with a yellow bulb desperately trying to dispel the darkness.Some stations did not have even the lighting or if they had, it was submerged in darkness due to power cut.Yes, power cut was there in those days too.
Probably, as a friend , you would not advice Thakur to get down and enquire about score.What will you say him,”Chhod yaar. So ja. Kyon jaan de rahaa hai?”.
I decided to do the same thing.The sleep was away from my eyes.That was hot summer night.The fan overhead was blaring hot air .All the passengers were sleeping.
“This must be the crucial hours.” I thought.
I looked out of the window.
Yes, I was expecting some angels to come down from sky and whisper the score in my ears.The angel came in the form of TT. Ironically, I was the only person to show the ticket.
“TT Saab, should I ask one question?”
“Yes.” He ticked my name in his chart.
“Do you know , what is the score ?”
“Oh, match ? Yes , India has won it….I mean, India would surely win it…Well, India was about to win when I last heard.”
“Really ?” I was euphoric..
“Yes, I think so.But , don’t believe on me. Baap, aaj bahut jyada piyela hai main.Tu samajh raha hai naa.”He barely whispered,”I was searching for first class compartment, to there, lock from inside and sleep.Galati se idhar aa gaya.Jyda piya main bahut jyada.Tu samajha naa? Ab jyada serious mat le .Are apana Hindustan jitega yaa jeet gaya hoga .Tu jaa ke so jaa.Tension mat le.”
I knew, if I sleep now, I would dream about Saxena’s transistor today.
To be specific ,till Itarasi, the question was – what was the score ?Now, it had been transmuted to – who won the match ?The corollary was – did India make it to Semi Finals? Despite the loss, India could have made it provided the run rate tilted the balance in India’s favor.
Chhattisgarh Express had a long halt at Nagpur station- forty five minutes. Reason ?
Nagpur is the heart of Indian railway system. This is one of two stations ( Bhusawal being the other), where East West railway line crosses North South track..So it pumped the trains in all directions – North  up to Jammu Tawi, East upto Guwahati, South up to Kochin and Kanyakumari , West up to Ahmedabad.
Till now, Chhattisgarh was running more or less North – South. Now, it had to go Eastwards. The direction of Engine had to be changed.
But timing was all wrong. Oh God, why it had to be 3.45 early in the morning ?And those tea fellows ? Not only from outside the window, they would need to find one open door and hawl at top of their cacophonous voice , “Chai, chaaaai garam.., chaai waala”.As if the guys were awake all nights and waited fervently to taste their ambrosia.
But that day , I was grateful to them to wake me up.
==============================================================
I was out in search of those fellows.
And I was pacing up and down the platform in search of those fellows. But no, I could not find them. In fact that timing was so wrong that except rea wala and coolie, no one was alive at the platform. Other vendors or non-vendors, even if present at platform, were sleeping as dead log.. All the shutters of the kiosk were down
So, I could not find them at platform number five. Probably that was too early for them to turn up. It took fraction of minute to resolve to venture  for the calculated risk. If my calculator missed out the vital decimal digits, Chhattisgarh Express would chug away alongwith my bag and “Nawabi Chhadi”.
I swiftly went up to the over-bridge, and scampered to platform number one. Just running frantically, I was searching for them.
Yes, there they were !There, on the other side of main gate. Yes, yes. They weare there !I rushed to them.
They were six guys, diligently doing their job with full concentration. Opening the bundles of the newspapers, counting them, segregating and sorting  them area wise, opening the bundle of another newspaper, repeating the same process- then couting, then tying them with cord.. It was agonizing to see that they even dismissed my presence. No, they were not the newspaper vendors, I was looking for .But yes, they were dealing with newspapers.
I stood there for a while, trying to grasp the head lines through constantly moving papers, attempting to find out if there was any news about the match. It appeared to me as the normal day newspaper – mundane with same political headlines, similar advertisements, almost same photographs which you saw in those days-Some leader was delivering speeches or inaugurating something or bestow prizes to some widow or children. No, there was no headline which I was seeking for. But there was visinly no news of that sort.
My heart sank in deep sea of sorrow. That means India lost the match and the match news had consigned to last but one page. No, but there could be one more possibility.Probably, Rain God heeded attention to my prayers, relented  and match was spilled over to the next day. I was desperate to find out. I need to draw their attention.
I coughed and then coughed again and then coughed for the third time.
The person with thick spectacles and bald head, raised his head and looked at me behind the glasses.
“If you are sick, please go away and then cough.” He urged as politely as he could and the submerged again in newspapers.
“No, I am not sick. May I buy a newspaper ?” I asked. I knew, sometimes in special occassion, mainly the result days , they carried lot of extra papers.Apparently, if it was a good news, it could be one of those occasions.
“No, we are not vendors. We are distributors. All these papers are counted .Just wait for another hour and then buy whatever you want.”
“No, I am in fact traveling.”
“So buy at the next station baba.”
“May I read it .Just a little?”
“Sure.Without touching any of the newspaper, you can read. But please don’t cough”.
I again tried to read from where I was standing – bending on my waist as much as I could. But no, I could not make head or tail out of that.
“What was the result  ?” I asked eventually.
“Result ?” He mused,”SSC result was announced last week. HSC result will come next week.Which result you are talking about ?”
“ India Australia match.Did India win the match”
“Hun Hun” He said without looking up.
“Or Australia won the match?” I was not sure what was his answer.
“Hun Hun” he said again.
“Or it was rain and match was postponed.
“Hun Hun” he said again.
The train was running Eastward. Dejected Thakur dozzed for another two hours, then the morning cacophonous call of ‘Chai, chai”  from outside the station woke me up.
It was Bhandara Road.
“Ok, we were near Gondia”.I thought and rushed to the bathroom.
Thre four guys were already waiting .There used to be two washbasin outside of the bathrooms too. In Chhattisgarh Express, most of the time, either they were as dry as Thar desert or choked and as flooded as Cherapunji.I looked outside. Suddenly, I realized why ladies and most of the gentlemen avoided to look outside the train early in the morning. Those were the days when “Sulabh Shouchlaya” or something like that was not in existence. Most of the guys found side of the tracks as most convenient place, since there was no fear of snakes around railway tracks.
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“Great.India made it to Semis”.
No, there was no headlines screaming like that. But the big photo of Kapil, on the top half of the front page obviated any other speculations.. That too, if the newspaper was “Times Of India”.
That was Gondia station. I could see Kapil Dev laughing on the front page. Immediately bought the newspaper and jumped back in train.I could hardly wait to consume the news.
Train slowly pulled and I opened the sports page.
“Kapil whipped Zimbabwe” was the headline.
That was all about the Zimbabwe match.
There was no other news. Nothing was mentioned about Australia match.
Gosh, immediately I  reverted to the front page of the paper.
“National Edition” it said , I tapped my forehead and spectacles popped out.
Those days, big newspapers, like “Times of India” , “Hinduatan Times”,”Hindu” had two editions, “City Edition” and “National Edition”.”City Edition” was like normal news paper.Mostly, it was distributed around the the city where it was published. Like in Kurukshtra, we were getting “City Edition” of Delhi. For the remote places like Gondia, Bhilai, Bilaspur, it was “National Edition” – one day behind the City Edition.
Once again, I was deceived  by a googly.
Now, I had drained all my motivation, combusted all my  about the match .We were approaching Dongargarh. My destination, Durg was hardly one hour away,if there were no unexpected ‘signal down’. I just resigned to hold back till the news on its own, would emerge dancing down in front me..
Now , I could see Dongadgarh and Bambleshwari temple on the top of the hill. Train halted and I got the news! YES, you heard me right.But how ?
One peasant, alongwith his wife and daughter boarded on the train. He was carrying a big, partially open  sack of spinach leaves and the local newspaper “Nav Bharat”.
Normally, it happened in those days, so long as someone was inside the train, newspapers , magazines etc. were not his personal property. If someone bought the paper, all the guys from his coupe would read it. Someone would read front page, someone the middle page. Then they would wait patiently the other fellow to finish and then exchanged the pages. That was implicit way of sharing the information. If the journey was long, then after reading the newspaper, normally there would be discussion session,”Are sahab, Indira Gandhi ka dimaag kharab ho gaya hai….” someone would start the discussion and others would join open heartedly. Sometimes they unanimously find the target for their tirade, sometimes, it was acrimonious heated exchange of idea. Ah, those were the days….
The peasant sat of the side seat.The sleeper seat for three was more than enough. I moved inside and signal the little girl with running nose to sit on my side.
Then , in the bargain, I asked for the newspaper.
There , I just got the news I was looking for. It was four lines with bold font  “Stop Press” news. But that was unambiguous unlike drunkard TT or indifferent Newspaper dealer.
I wanted to pull the chain , stop the train, jump out and shout … But better sense prevailed.. Durg was just one hour away from here and India stormed into Semi Final.
=======================
Chhatisgarh was stopped at platform number four.
The bag was hanging on one shoulder. On the other hand ,I had the "Nawabi Chhadi" of Simla .That was Durg station. Still, I was not in a hurry to go home. Instead of jumping down from platform to  the track ,cross it up  to platform no. one and climb up again like a monkey, I took gentleman’s route, went over the over bridge and then came down to platform number one. I stopped at the book stall. At that time, there were three prominent local newspapers in Chhattisgarh - all of them were Hindi newspapers - "NavBharat", "Yugdharm" and "Deshbandhu". We were regular subscriber of "DeshBandhu", so I bought "Yugdharm" and "Navbharat".Well, there was an English local newspaper ,"Hitwad" also , I bought that one too.
When I came out to get a get a Tempo for Bhilai, the picture was like this - I was carrying the bag in one hand, “Nawabi Chhadi” in the other and the newspapers were tugged firmly on my side, under the armpit. Those days, Tempo operators were in stiff competitions but there were unity and veneer of discipline also. Till the first Tempo were not overloaded, the next in the line won't take any passenger. I sat on the empty Tempo. The tempo wala was alluring and inviting others to fit in ,"Bas do minute main jaane wala hai." The same parrot line he kept repeating since fifteen minutes.That was one of the prerequisites of his job. One family, like me, sat in that. As I said, I was in a no hurry. I kept on opening each newspaper and trying to fit the puzzle pieces of the match. Each and every newspapers described the Indian innings nicely. But the result was consigned to the "Stop Press” news , which said India qualified for the Semi Final. One of the news papers mentioned the Australia's brief score. It also mentioned that both Roger Binny and Madanlal took three wickets each. I needed to talk to my childhood friends. Probably , they would throw some lights on that.
===============================================================
Home .. sweet home ….
Eleven O’Clock summer morning … Heap of news papers,…Sister urging absent minded brother …The backyard water tap  … half bucket water …
You must have done this exercise in your primary school.If I show you the above mentioned picture, can you construct a story for me ?
Absolutely, I am confident, most of you can.Probably you must have undergone the similar situation many a times.
Well, if you are still struggling to arrange, here is the story – my story.
When I reached home,it was eleven O’Clock. Babuji was in college, making arrangement for ongoing Ravishankar University exam. As always, Maa was delighted. It was rather surprise for them, since I had not mentioned the exact date in my letter. All because, the Shimla Chandigarh plan was still hazy when I posted the letter.
The first thing a mother says to his son, coming from long travel,”take bath.In the meanwhile , lunch is ready.Eat and then rest.”
When I heard it from Maa, I did not heed much attention. I went to the bathroom, there were two bucketful of water. When I opened the water tap, it let out a whistle ‘suuuuuu’ and then dead.
“Water goes at seven O’Clock in the morning.” Sister informed me.
No worries. We had a water tap at the backyard. Its level was much lower than the usual water taps in bathroom and kitchens .So, even if the pressure went down and thus rest of the water taps  gave you thumbs down , that water tap would serve you as faithful servant for a long time. It so happened that in summer time, one or the other neighbor would come to our backyard to fill up two backets, one on each hand and would carry the water to his home , wobbling, spilling water on the way, but happy , whistling and singing.
So, no worries. Let me revive and relish the news from the inaugural match..
I pulled out all the old papers dated from June 10 onwards, then I thought a while and picked  the news papers even one week back. After all, let me review what was the expectations, who said what and which player did what for as good luck rituals. Then I started reading the about each match. The history was unfolded in front of my eyes. Memory was getting refreshed.
“Take the bath…” , mother came and chided me.”These newspapers would not fly in one hour They would remain there.”
“Yes, Yes Maa. Just two minutes, just five minutes….” I kept on saying.
At last, I reached to India Australia recently concluded match and tried to figure out the complete stories. But so many pieces were missing..Indian batting was described properly, but that was all. I had only ‘Stop Press’ news in all the newspapers .I had to figure it out with my childhood friends.
I went to the backyard. The columns of red ants were moving near the wall. Most of then were carrying some white seed. Immediately I recalled the weather predication of Magh and Bhaddari , the Indian poets. They say that when ants carry white seeds , get ready. Rainy season is round the corner. That year, rainy season was already late.
I opened the backyard water tap.It also evoked a long whistle ‘suuuuuu’ and then dead.
I looked at the watch, it was one O’Clock.
The emerging picture looked simply fabulous and promising when I joined the jumbled information I gathered from my friends and  the newspapers  At last…,it looked  like this.
India won the toss at Chemsford. Kapil Dev, not learning the lesson from the last match, decided to bat first on moist and windy atmosphere.
When I looked into the score card, the highest score was 40, just four zero forty, scored by ‘Pappu’ Yashpal Sharma. Second highest was 37 by Mr. Extra. Still, India managed to score 247 runs all out. How ? Except the openenr Gavaskar (9 runs) and last man Balwindar Sandhu (8 runs),everyone reached the double figure mark, but failed to go further. Patil hit 30, Kapil scored 28,Srikkanth made 24, Binny 21 .So half of the team scored 20, but none of them  could convert it 20-30 into big score.
Can you believe that ? In reply, strong Australian team was folded in just 129 ?How that bizzare happened ?
When I was as Itarasi station, and news reader said,"Match romanchak dour se gujar raha hai" , probably, Australian score was around 45 for one.Traver Chappal was out cheaply when the score was 3.The second wicket fell on 46.Thn just see the reading of fall of the wickets -  2-46(Wood), 3-48 (Hookes), 4-52 (Yallop),5-52 (Marsh), 6-69 (MacLeay), 7-78 (Hogan).
There was a partnership for eight wicket - 40 runs between Lawson and Border, but that never look as threatening as any recovery process. Once Lawson was out, the team could make 11 runs more and all out on 129.
How sad ! It was a resounding  send off for mighty Australia .It seemed that they were never in reckoning. The tournament began for them with a shocking defeat .Their ending was even more depressing. After all, the margin of 118 runs did not speak high of them. That too , in the hands of the team, which they defeated just a week back even with much resounding  margin.
Who pulled the rabbit out of hat ? Well, just like batting  it was a collective effort. Madanlal took 4 for 20 and Roger Binny , 4 for 26.Remaining two wickets went into Sandhu's bag. Four batsmen were  clean bowled.
So that was the story , which was elusive for me throughout the journey.
. Those who have read the write up thus far would sense some void , big gaping hole in the description. Some of you might have already been whining with a tinge of disgruntlement "Eight  teams have been whittled down to four and no mention of Pakistan ?"
I got it what you mean. The saga of any Indian glory, that too, any sporting grandeur, to be specific Cricketing splendor -is grossly inadequate without any mention of Pakistan. Pakistan, whose panache would sometimes, but randomly  converted into  performance.
So , you guys must be conjecturing, how Pakistan would be doing in the tournament. The short answer is - Pakistan was also in Semi Final, squeezed through by scoring 0.08 more runs per over than the Kiwis.
"Hey What is this ?"Ok Ok, please release my collor. I knew beforehand that  this answer would hardly quench your thirst. You want some elaborated delineation..
Where to start ? Remember the Indo - Pak series of 1982-83,(effectively, our first major series in RECK), when Pakistan decimated India by 3-0 ? It costed  Gavaskar of his captaincy and Vishwanath, his place in  the team and International Cricketing career. Till date, like any staunch Indian, I am not able to digest that defeat. As a nation , mastered in offering the excuses, we found two reasons for that - biased umpiring and ball tempering which left Lala Amarnath wonderstruck in commentary box and Vengsarkar on the pitch by the talking ball which had gone mad time and again in the series. Those raison d'être, offered as face saving excuses, fell under the  "foul play " category. The main reason- which kept on haunting India time and again over a decade or so, was Imran Khan and his devastating bowling. Yes, it was Imran's bowling, which severly dented Indian  batting psyche.
But .. But .. But..
In the World Cup Cricket 1983, the spectators did not get a chance to witness his bowling . So sad, he must be missing ....
Missing? No, no.I am not suggesting that he did not play. He was very much thick in the action, but did not fire a single salvo did not bowl a single ball in the entire world cup. Confused ? You may wonder, if he was bowling, then what was he doing on the field ?He said , he was not fit for bowling, then how come he might be fit for fielding ? He was captain, he was an all rounder and could bat. In the era of great all rounders, like Bothom, Kapil, Hadlee, Marshall and Imran, Pakistan allowed him to play as a batsman. It happened only in Pakistan that an unfit player, better known as bowler, but would not bowl, would captain a side. Anyway, he was not as gifted a batman as Kapil and Bothom were  but his grit and determination that he demonstrated amply in this World Cup as a batsman. And yes, only Pakistani could do it – making up to semi finals under a half fit captain.
Pakistan started his campaign in style, piling 338 runs for five wickets against Sri Lanka. But wait, match was not yet over. Sir Lanka also made a strong reply. Making 288 runs while chasing.
Second match - and Pakistan lost it against New Zealand. Chasing NewZealand score of 238, they lost their first three wickets on '0'.Yes, scoreline was zero for three. Mohsin, Mudssar and Zahir Abbas were back in huts without scoring an single run. Eventually, Pakistan lost the match by 52 runs.
Third Match - Pakistan lost to England by eight wickets.
Forth Match - After two consecutive loses, Pakistan won the match by 11 runs against Sri Lanka. Yes, just 11 runs, thanks to Abdul Qadir, who took five wickets.
Fifth Match - Pakistan lost to England by seven wickets.That was third loss for Pakistan in five matches. Their wins were against Sri Lanka.
Was there any hope for Pakistan to make it in Semi Final ?
Yes, the hope came on the same day, when Sri Lanka beat New Zealand unexpectedly. New Zealand made 181 and erstwhile minnows, though the tag was wrong even in those days, beat New Zealand by three wickets
So there was a chance for Pakistan to make it in Semi Final, provided they could beat New Zealand in their last encounter and and beat them comprehensively .so that their run rates be better than New Zealand.
Yes, they did it in one of the most thrilling , corker matches in this World Cup.
Pakistan made 262 for three. Their injured captain Imran and Zaheer had unfinished partnership of 149.Imran made 79 not out and Zaheer made 114.
In reply, New Zealand kept on losing the wickets .Just imagine, seven of their players made double figure, but they failed to convert 30-40 to big scores.Pakistan used seven bowlers. Zaheer also bowled four overs and returned with one wickets for eight runs. Kiwis were all out on 250.The gulf of 11 runs proved too much for Kiwis to cross.
And see? That just eleven more runs was good enough for Pakistan to make it to Semis.
So Pakistan was barely able to keep nose out of water. But that was nothing new for them. They combusted when they were under the gun, but they fired through the hips when they were forced to kneel down and forced their way back.Even later years, they pulled out victory from unexpected corners.
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Thank God to avoid the head on collision with Pakistan in semis.
Had it happen, either India had lost or they might have won it. If they lost it, it would have been national mourning and name calling and head rolling. If they won it , the same ordeal would be performed across the boarder. However, the encounter would be so energy sapping that team India would be pooped in and drained out and must be caught napping in  the boxing ring on the day of final encounter.
As per the theory my friend, in each World cup, there are many winners and losers. The final trophy is immaterial. If India beat Pak in any match, their World Cup ambitions fulfills. If England beats Australia, they are the winner of World Cup. If minnows topple the apple cart of  any test playing nation, like Zimbabwe did here, they return home as winner.It is a different thing that finally, some team lifts the trophy. But there are many World Cup winners much before the final match.
So , the highly charged collision with Pakistan was avoided. It was a different thing that Pakistani could not digest India's ultimate win  and they disparaged it saying that without winning match against Pakistan, the World Cup win was hollow.Though India creamed them in coming November home series and then silenced the critics across the border.
Pakistan and West Indies collided in Semi Final.India took up England.
 English team was riding high on success.It could boast about arguably all time great all rounder Ian Bothom, batsmen like , Gover , Lamb , Getting, bowlers like Bob Willis and Dilley.
 It was an ideal atmosphere to go Durg station and try for reservation for the return journey.The earlier , the better. I had the option to go by either tempo or bicycle. I preferred bicycle. The day before, it rained. It was just a pre monsoon shower, but it was good enough to soften the summer heat. I planned to go there in the morning, but some of the childhood friends met and we just kept on discussing about the match, strategy about how to counter Bothom, how to blunt Willis, should Kapil drop Gavaskar or not, if Gavaskar would not play, who should open etc. etc. It was open ended discussion and it consumed more than four hours. As I told you, the weather was pleasant and sun was hidden partially behind the clouds we lost the idea of time.
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The process was like that.
First,I needed to find out te proper reservation window for specified train -  say Chhatisgarh Express,then stood up in the queue counting one to thousand and then thousand to one in reverse order.. When my turn came , the clerk would scan through the reservation slip I filled up.He would look at the appropriate reservation register (those days, different registers were opened for different trains), trying to figure out if the reservation was available in the mentioned train at specified date. Then he would ask for the Concession Form I received from the college.He would look at the dates, always with suspicion, then look at my face. When I smiled, he would also smile, but won't say anything.Then he would sign on the reservation  slip and concession form and ask me, "Go and get the ticket."
That would mark end of stage one successfully completed.
I had to go to another queue , stood up in the line.That queue was for the normal Ticket
Window. Issuing the concession ticket was a trifle longer procedure. Whereas , for the normal ticket, it would be hardly two minutes affair. The person on the other side of the
window  would ask the passenger, "Where are you going?"Then  he would look at the properly arranged card ticket stack, pick up the ticket gave it to the passenger, take money from him .Sometimes return the remaining amount and that was all. The occasional minor  irates would be ,"Go and bring the change or wait till I get it" and "This  note has a hole in the middle .Give me another" .Apart from these two, I could not recall any third snag in otherwise smooth , streamlined process.
For a concession ticket, he would first read the Concession form thoroughly, scan front and back both the sides , then ask,"Kurukshetra kahan padataa hai ji ?"
"Haryana main." I used to say.
"Bahut dur hai.Kahin pas main aa jao "He would give his piece of advice.Then, "I -Card hai aapke paas?" I would show the I card.Once he was satisfied, he would pull out the
manual ticket book ,search for a carbon and then put it inside at appropriate place and first check his ball pen by scratching ona rough paper and then  start 'scratching' it on manual ticket book..Then he grabbed the Fare Calculation book, find out the distance. Then he would pick the fare chart,which was like log chart and find out the fare.Then he would use his commercial calculator and then  divide the fare by two.Then start
'scratching' the manual ticket again.
In the meantime, those, who were standing in the queue would get impatient and bemoaned. Some of them would come from behind , right up to the window  to investigate, "Kya chal raha hai ?"In the meanwhile if some train came in,the passenger in lines would cry, "Please sir, train has come sir.Please." I always took pity on them and appealed the booking  clerk to clear them first ,who were supposed to travel immediately. My ticket could wait. Most of the times, booking clerk would just smile sardonically ,"Don't worry. If they were as concerned , they should have turned up little earlier.I see these scenes daily."Or , sometimes, if he was concerned, he would say, "Ok, just wait for ten minutes ." Then I had to wait for another ten minutes.
Once, I got the ticket,that would mark to the end of stage two, successfully completed.
 I had to go back to reservation line once  again, stood in the queue once more. Many a times, booking clerk would  recognize me and call me directly.But many a times, the process took such a time that even booking clerk were changed , or gone for tea and someone else  would occupy the seat. Otherwse, if he was unconcerned,I had to go through the queue process again.
But once, I got the reservation or even waiting list,the mission accomplished successfully.
The whole process took three to four hours.Sometimes,it spilled over to the next day.
That was why, that day, I brought transistor with me,kept securely inside a cotton bag("Jhola").
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I was coming from Durg station,the trasister was in my bag and on. England had started well.Both Tavare and Fowler were playing with ease.The match was almost one hour old and Indians were not able to  pick up a single wicket.
In those days,the road from Durg to Bhilai, passed through some barren open land. (nowadays , there is hardly any open space.The builders have done marvelous job.) I was not able to concentrate both on paddling and commentary. Thus, I stopped the bicycle, went of the side  of the road and put my focus  on match. Today, two matches were being played , instead of four on the other days..So, the timing would sliced to half an hour.
Suddenly a car stopped near me.One person, with black goggles towel (Gamachha) around his shoulder,white kurta  with  chest buttons opened, got down.I switched off the
transistor and looked at him.
"No, no.Don't switch off." He insisted ," I wanted to know the score."I switched it on. But B.B.C. were now broadcasting the Pakistan West Indies match.
"Oh no.Now, they are broadcasting Pakistan West Indies match."
"Are you listening to B.B.C ?" He asked,'No, tune to Raipur station. Today, Akashwani is broadcasting the commentary "
"Oh really?"That was a pleasant surprise.I switched on the Raipur station. But no, there were no Jasdev Singh, Sushil Doshi, Murali Manohar Manjul,Ravi Chaturvedi or Manish  Dev.There were no Suresh Saraiya ,Ananth  Setalwad or Dr. Narottam Puri either.They were just relaying B.B.C.commentary  but continuous , uninterrupted India England match.
"Yes, that's it.Not only that, you know, Doordarshan is telecasting the match live also."He informed further.
That was the first time in Indian Television history when Doordarshan transmitted a live Cricket match on National Network.Yes, they had been telecasting the matches on metro , so Delhi and the guys around it, (like we in Kurukshetra ) were always watching the matches live.That was the first time, when Doordarshan, utilizing the costly services of satellite, decided to show the matches throughout India. In  small and remote towns , like Bhilai, Gorakhpur and Ranchi, in villages, where power supply was equivalent to  power cut, in the tribal villages, where there was perhaps only one government sponsored television in school, guys were glued to the television set with disbelief.
Definitely, it helped the Indian Cricket in long run. Watching the matches live is the best coaching.So, when we see players from remote town, they grew up and learnt their basics from the TV.
It also helped Indian Cricket in long run in some other way.We will discuss it later.
 Coming to the match - so, it Was Raipur station, which informed us that just now, Chris Tavare was out, caught by Kirmani, bowled by Binny.That time, the score was 69.
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Paddling, stopping, listening, paddling - that was the cycle I followed  on bicycle.I kept on paddling the bicycle for five minutes or so,then I would stop, switch on the transistor, get the latest score and proceed further only to stop .
Englandcould have built on the solid start. But all of a sudden their scoring went into low ebb. Indians were fielding like live wires. Bowlers became wiser and miser with steady line and lengths.
Madan, Binny and Mohinder.And then came and turned up the trumps - Kirti Azad. England were losing the wickets at  regular intervals. Most of them started, but they failed to flourish and steer the ship. It was similar to India on the other day against Australia. Their openers scored 33 and 32.Mr Extra scored 29 runs for them.There was no collapse of any sort. It was just that, they could get going. Here, Kapil's captaincy was remarkable. Even though he was not master strategist, he marshaled his bowlers well. He kept on exhorting his boys. The field placement and change of bowlers, depending upon the
batsman, was remarkable and paid dividends .Till this match, Kirti Azad had just bowled two overs in six matches.Here, Kapil pitted him against Bothom.Kirti Azad did a remarkable job in middle overs which choked flow of runs.Suddenly Bothom looked like a toothless tiger.He showed his intentions by stepping out sometimes, but was bound by Kirti. Ultimately, Kirti ended his painful stay at the crease. Bothom scored just six runs in twenty six balls.
The whole team was skittled on 213.But to score those runs, England played total sixty overs.Their last wicket fell on the last ball.
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Though England had some good bowlers, like Willis , Dilley, Allot and Bothom, their attack  was never a menacing .Indians had plenty of overs with them to knock of those runs. They could pick and chose their strokes or try some new ones if they  preferred. There was absolutely no pressure on them.And they did it like that.The best example was, Yashpal Sharma's innings, who played with patience for a long time then suddenly burst up like a cloud..
As such, Indians  did not show any haste or panic or tendency to commit hara-kiri for no reasons. Call it professional or clinical - The operation was pretty smooth.I think,that was probably the only match in the World cup,when I was not tense.Though the commentary was on relayed on Akashwani,each station had its own list of priorities and pre-scheduled programmes. There were interruptions - long and short- here and there. It so happened that I preferred to tune to B.B.C. till they switched to Pakistan West Indies match.
Gavaskar and Srikkanth started well .Gavaskar scored his highest in this tournament. Just when it seemed that he had  overcome the initial hiccups,playing fluently and finding the rhythm, first, his partner Srikkanth departed.Then within a space of five runs, he was also consumed
Yashpal and Mohinder joined and first ascertained that there would not be any further shock.Then they consolidated the innings without taking any undue risk.Instead of hitting boundaries, they relied on running between wickets.Mohinder scored 46 runs 94 balls..
However, when Mohinder departed and Patil came on the crease,he changed the tempo of the game.For me, whenever Patil batted, it was always entertaining. All his strokes were not power strokes, like hitting the buffalo with a stick. They were always with precise footwork, sweetly timed, nicely placed with optimum amount of force.That day, probably he was in rancid mood. He must be waiting for a long time, having the pads on, just watching Mohinder and Yashpal playing overly caucious innings while chasing a meager
total. When Mohinder got out, probably, he must have kicked his chair before rushing to the ground.Just to remind you, when he came, India needed 72 runs for victory .And when he returned ,unbeaten  51 runs (in 32 balls) were against his name. On the same ground, one year back, he had hit Willis for six fours in one over.This time, he hit him three consecutive fours.
The English fans were so much disappointed that there was verbal abuse, exchange of boxes and punches took place with Indian fans.Luckily , nothing went out of the hand.
However, vice captain of Enland, David Gower , was sober,"Fielding,Team work, and Kapil's captaincy, has made this a dangerous side.".He summed up at the end.
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What kept me interested in the other semi finals - Pakistan vs West Indies ?
Was the bowling of West Indies scintillating ? No ..
Did flamboyant Pakistan bowlers produce the trademark fight back, they were famous for ? No ...
Then what was fascinating ??
Let us begin with Pakistan's batting.Pakistan scored total 184 runs - yes, even one run more which India could secure in final against the same opponent.Though it was not the
figure on scoreboard, it was the way the Pakistan innings shaped up, which looked amusing. When you hear two strikingly diverse view about someone's performance, the performance is bound to be interesting.
Out of those 184 runs, Mohsin khan scored contrite, sluggish,test match style 70 runs in 176 balls .Yes, he consumed almost half of the balls and scored a lone boundary.When he got out in 57 th overs, Pakistan was 171 for eight.Because of his dawdling pace, the batsmen on the other end, getting out one by one in an attempt to step up the scoring.
In contrast, there was another school of though for his innings.
"Wah , Wah, what an innings, Subhan Allah", that was another view. They felt that even the paltry score was possible because of the constant vigil of Mohsin Khan's batting
which bound the Pakistan innings.
And West Indies ?Greenidge and Hayens put 34 runs for first wicket.When Hayens out at the score of fifty six, Gomes joined Vivian Richards .They played two contrast innings .While Gomes watched appreciatively  from the other end, Richards annihilating the bowlers , making 80 in 98 balls, he himself scrapped his half century, taking even two balls more than Richards played the total balls. Windies won the match with more than 11 overs  were spare and steamrolled into the Final.
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(Contd)