Despite the heavy labor of playing under Delhi’s scorching summer sun and enduring the biting cold in winters, I accepted the challenge of bowling with sheer glee. I loved it. I could bowl over after over, even continuously. Remember, the kit was mine! The truth is, bowling came naturally to me, and it was a source of pure enjoyment to keep hurling the ball again and again.

Within the age group of 10-11, I was the most feared bowler in our locality. Such humility! As things progressed, bowling with a real cricket ball presented no difficulties—unlike the books I had to read to pass exams.

With a tiny bit of flashing luck, I played for my class in just one match before that luck vanished, leaving me stranded in the desert of a non-cricketing field.

Anyway, I moved to Chennai, where, unsurprisingly, I found another group of serious cricketing kids. This group had some real talent, though. I was an instant fit, a hit, and a success. But this time, the cricketing kit was not mine, so I had to forgo all privileges. Nevertheless, my bowling talent ensured I got to bowl a lot. Dutifully, we would gather in a fairly big park, where we had claimed one portion as ours, and play and practice for a few hours.

On and off, we would have matches with neighboring groups, and we would soundly beat them. In fact, the boy who owned the kit was a little bit older than me, the Captain, and a very good left-handed batsman. He was aptly and lovingly rechristened ‘Nari Contractor,’ after the Indian Captain of those days.

Maybe a year or even a little less, an Uncle who was our neighbor had always watched me playing cricket with passion. Understanding this, and even without asking me, he booked a ticket for me to witness a cricket Test Match between India and Pakistan. There were no fancy roofs over the stands in those days. All the spectators braved the sun, with towels or kerchiefs on their heads, sitting on the stone steps of the gallery to watch the game. Free printed brochures were distributed, listing the names of both squads with photographs of the players and their specialties. That was the first time I knew some of the names of the Indian Team. During that match, I had the opportunity to watch Ramakant Desai bowl fast. He had become a sensation during that series. Relying on my tottering memory, V.V. Kumar from Madras, a leg spinner, made his debut in that match. In his first over, he took a wicket with his fifth ball. Caught and bowled? I hope I got these facts right.

And that’s when I learned there were three stumps on both sides of the pitch and that bowlers alternated between the two ends. Funnily pleasant. Being a young mind, many nuances registered readily. This experience spurred my interest in cricket and my knowledge of cricketers.

A Bengali gentleman who lived in our group of flats once called me and presented me with an album consisting of photographs taken from newspapers, i.e., newspaper cuttings. This collection featured some great cricketers of yesteryears, like Hobbs and Sutcliffe, to name a few that I remember. I was so proud of this possession. It made me read newspapers regularly and keenly observe the photographs, sometimes even taking out cuttings. The day’s reports on the matches were so crystal clear that they discussed techniques and strategies, which added to my burgeoning knowledge about cricket—not about school education, mind you; that was still a distant pursuit.

To be continued... 69 - My Test with Cricket - Limited Days Exploits - Part 3