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.
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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.
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“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.
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…….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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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)