An indigenous sporting tradition
VIJAY PARTHASARATHY
THE ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF INDIAN CRICKET: Boria Majumdar; Roli Books, M-75, Greater Kailash II Market, New Delhi-110048. Rs. 1295.
That Indian cricket is steeped in tradition is certain; whether we are acquainted with its past and its sociological context, less so.
One is compelled to take issue with Sandipan Deb's opening assertion in his 17-page introduction to Boria Majumdar's The Illustrated History of Indian Cricket that the nation is obsessed with the sport. Writes Deb: "This game, cricket. And this country, India. The not-umbilical yet more-than-umbilical link between the two, the love that's close to madness, the giddy schizophrenia of adoration changing to abhorrence with just one ball edged to the slips. Where does one begin to analyse the terrible beauty of an obsession?" Even if one gets past the over-writing, it is impossible to ignore the naiveté of that statement. As many have observed, the Indian audience's interest in the game is narrower— our culture is fixated solely with one-day cricket featuring the national side preferably on Indian soil. Elsewhere, Deb says, "... cricket is the greatest game invented by man. And nothing else comes even close... Cricket asks for as much athletic ability as soccer, but can one ever imagine Diego Maradona being a great cricketer... "
Gripping anecdotes
Fortunately, Majumdar, a cricket historian, isn't prone to such vacuous hysterics. His style is more workman-like than restrained; occasionally he resorts to cliché. Even so, the storytelling flows. The former Rhodes scholar has researched his material exhaustively. This book is replete with gripping anecdotes on matches that involved some of the country's greatest players.
Few coffee-table projects achieve the perfect balance between scope and size, and often the information disseminated through these books is of a choppy, superficial nature. Majumdar refrains from offering an in-depth analysis of events; nevertheless, this book offers a tantalising glimpse of a firmly indigenous sporting tradition. The structure is unremarkable yet tidy. Stories are arranged by decade and every once in a while, the reader is privy to news: for instance, the book reproduces copies of letters that Ranjit Sinhji wrote to an English lover, Mary Holmes.
Parallel narrative
Ironically, it is in his choice of photographs that the author's ambition finds its fullest expression. Such is the range and power in the detail that these shots effortlessly sustain a far more engaging, and rewarding, parallel narrative.
Consider this image from 1946 of a formally attired Pataudi Sr., his hair slickly oiled back, standing with hands in pockets alongside Wally Hammond, himself impeccably turned out in a single breasted three-piece suit and clutching a dying butt, as they inspect the Oval wicket shortly before start of play. Such a romantic - yet wholly genuine - photo-op wouldn't exist in the professional era.
Which is partly why, the volume should have concluded, at the latest, with the emergence of Sachin Tendulkar at the end of the 1980s. Unfortunately, the temptation to fill another couple of chapters with tales of his exploits proved too great. Conversely, the match-fixing issue has been glossed over. Mohammed Azharuddin's achievements find little mention; his fall from grace is barely alluded to. The lack of insight particularly weakens these last sections, loaded as they are with relatively well-digested facts, and imposes upon this otherwise commendable effort a curiously dated feel.
Matters stoop to a point where Mandira Bedi is afforded space in a book about India's cricketing past.
As a historian, Majumdar should have known better than to linger in the present.
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