A Sense of Occasion

History is often peppered with small moments, whose symbolism far outweighs its historical value. 25th June 1932 witnessed one such moment, when India played her first ever test match at Lords against Douglas Jardine led English side.

Here’s what the Evening Standard of 19th April 1932 had to say, when that Indian team first arrived in England:

(In 2004, Outlook magazine came up with a special issue on Indian cricket edited by Boria Muzumdar. The issue featured Colonel CK Nayudu’s scrapbook containing this Evening Standard article)

There has never been such a team of contrasts meeting on common footing of cricket. The 18 players speak eight to ten different languages among them, they belong to four or five different caste, some may not cat this and some may not cat that; a few are denied smoking by their religion laws; some similarly have drinking proscribed; they are captained by a Maharajah rich beyond the dreams of county cricket treasurers and they have tradesmen who earn their living with their hands; some come from the plains where cold is almost unknown and others from the hills where the climate has inured them even to English summer.

The team contains six Hindus, five Mohammedans, four Parsis and two Sikhs. Caste demands that Hindus do not eat beef or veal, and that Mohammedans avoid pork, bacon and ham. The Mohammedans foreswear alcohol by religion and most of the others do so by choice. The Sikhs, who will play cricket in turbans, will be similarly denied smoking. So to prevent any difficulties at meal times, men will eat mutton, chicken and fish.

But these are all forgotten for the present in the quest for cricketing success. With all of them the game is a passion and they know as much about the form of our players, records and scores as the most enthusiastic schoolboy.

Almost the only cricketing thing they know nothing about is a sticky wicket, and they are hoping to get to Lord’s for some practice before wet is out of the ground.

Small step for world cricket it was, but for Indian cricketers, a test match at Lords was indeed a giant leap. No one expected them to win, but even in defeat they managed some credible individual performances.

The reason for raking this up is that, to mark the 75th anniversary of this test, MCC is commissioning a Pataudi Trophy and Bletchley Park Post Office is issuing a special stamp.

I wonder, why this was not an Indian initiative in first place? Have we, like on numerous occasions before, failed to seize the moment or do we lack the ingenuity to celebrate this small, but significant milestone in Indian cricket?

I remember reading how the Ashes centenary celebration in Australia was a grand affair. Let alone that, even a Boxing Day match is almost a ritual in Melbourne. A match at Lord’s is still sacred to many cricketers and fans alike. No wonder, cricket, in all its forms, is still thriving in these countries. Unlike Indians, they don’t trivialise the game. They preserve it as an art form, without making it elitist.

Sometimes, even a largely symbolic event is sufficient to trigger an avalanche for bigger things in future. The lone test in 1932 was one such trigger that has enabled the game to flourish into its current form in India.

Indian cricket history may not be as glorious as some of the other test playing nations, nonetheless, we need to commemorate landmarks around which the history of Indian cricket is woven. Cricket has and still plays an important role in India’s social fabric. Occasions like these should be exercised not only for reminiscing on the game’s past, but also to honour our past heroes, many of who have faded from public memory.

The moot question is, ‘Do we Indians, in general, lack a sense of occasion?’

The answer, I am afraid, is yes.