Through newspapers and discussions with fellow cricket enthusiasts in Chennai, I became familiar with some great names of cricketers worldwide. The boys I played with had in-depth knowledge about the game and its players. Simply talking cricket with them was a lesson in itself, enriching my understanding of strategies, players, and the history of the sport.

Cricket, especially in India during that era, often proved to be a dour affair. Many matches would end in tame draws, but the joy lay in not losing. One memorable, or perhaps forgettable, instance was when an English team toured India in the early 1960s. I had the fortune—or misfortune—of watching a day of this Test match in Chennai. There was a sequence of overs, possibly more than twenty, where not a single run was scored. The English batsmen were merely blocking every delivery. Later, I learned that several English players were reportedly unfit, possibly due to tummy troubles, and the team was simply trying not to lose the Test. Despite the tedious cricket, my love for the game remained undiminished. In hindsight, blocking to save a match is a skill in itself, deserving of admiration. One Indian bowler even set a world record for bowling the maximum number of maiden overs in that match.

Unfazed by the dull cricket I had witnessed, I continued playing with vigor and zest. My reputation as a bowler grew in our local circles. By this time, we had graduated to playing with a proper cricket ball. We once merged our team with another neighboring group whose Captain was impressed with our performances, forming a stronger squad. In one memorable match on a nearby college ground, our opponents, who had a “reputation,” won by merely threatening and intimidating us—just the way I had used my kit privileges in the past!

Despite my short stature, I could bowl fast, delivering bouncers and yorkers. Quite a few batsmen were hit by my bouncers. Back then, it gave me a sense of aggressive satisfaction, but now, I reflect on how cruel that must have seemed.

After moving to yet another locality, my relationship with that group of boys ended. I found another group, this time with older boys—some played for their college teams, and one even played for his company. Realizing I could no longer bowl fast against grown men, I turned to spin. I could bowl both leg and off-spin with ease, making me a sort of mystery bowler. Despite this, the team never included me in their playing XI for matches. But one day, while I was in a typewriting class, these boys urgently called me to join a match. With boys and girls watching in awe, unaware of my cricketing prowess, I proudly joined them.

However, after securing a permanent job, I had to say goodbye to my favorite game. Though I tried to join the cricket team at my workplace, I was not found suitable. It seemed no one recognized the talent I believed I had, and I gradually developed other interests to ease the pangs of missing cricket.

What I missed the most was playing, not merely watching, following, or reading about cricket. Yet, I have vivid memories of a couple of Test matches against Australia and one against the West Indies. One match with Australia featured some power hitting, and another saw a struggling Australian team barely managing to draw the game on the last day, despite having some of the most eminent names in their lineup. India, too, boasted some of the world's best and most feared spin bowlers.

To be continued... 70 - My Test with Cricket - Limited Days Exploits - Part 4