Here is a review of a book I have just read: THE GREAT TAMASHA – Cricket, Corruption and the Turbulent Rise of Modern India by James Astill This is the sixth book published by Wisden Sports Writing, and their stated aim is “to produce books that are not just about sport”. It is certainly a fascinating read for anyone who loves Cricket, who believes that this sport is often a metaphor for life, and who loves mother India as well as adopted England. The author’s command of clever turns of phrase – one that springs to mind is his description of the Nawab of Pataudi’s ‘non-violent bowling policy’ as “Like the Mahatma, Tiger had turned a traditional form of defence to attack”; his apparently meticulous research – he seems to have spent a great deal of his four years in the sub-continent travelling and meeting people, and he even knows the name Sudhir Gautam, the Bihari mendicant who travels the length of the subcontinent to see India play with his body painted in the colours of the Indian flag and ‘Tendulkar’ emblazoned in white paint across his belly; his apparent desire to appear scrupulously fair and reasoned in argument – reminiscent of the old-fashioned, courteous English gentleman whose true meaning lies less in the words uttered than in the spaces between and behind them; a manifest joy in story telling; all certainly kept this reader engrossed to the very end. The Great Tamasha is full of gems. The description of the India – Pakistan matches, especially one in Karachi after a gap of many years, made me feel I was almost there, The reports of Pakistani hospitality made me wish I were with Muslim friends eating delicious food, listening to Ghazals, and admiring the striking beauty of sub-continental women. It is heartwarming to read a book that mentions Gundappa Vishwanath (sadly neglected by too many writers on cricket, especially in the West); the moving story of Arvind Pujara and his son, Chintu, from Rajkot; that gives due attention to Vinod Kambli; and spinners like B.S. Chandrashekar (who, despite his withered left arm, was a master of his craft). It is good to be reminded of the fallacy of Norman Tebbit’s cricket test, and of how Indian fans can still appreciate a good game, whatever the result. However, I must disagree with the author’s casual dismissal of Sachin Tendulkar’s batting as not being “especially memorable”. And one can’t help wishing that Mr Astill had spent more time with Ashish Nandy and probed deeper into the assertion that “Cricket is an Indian game accidentally discovered by the English”. The ancient civilisations that constitute the Indian subcontinent have always digested the influences of foreign conquerors and made them their own in pluralistic and diverse ways. The second half of the book deals with the rise of one day cricket, the corruption in the administration of the professional game, and is a lament for test cricket. It is difficult to disagree with much of it, although it is impossible not to notice that this interesting book could not have been written but by a certain kind of Englishman who fails to remember Nehru’s dictum (that he quotes in a different context) namely that many problems in India (and elsewhere, in my not so humble opinion) are “really a dispute among upper-class people for a division of the spoils of office”. Change is inevitable in life, and the best way to influence the direction of that change is to participate in it, whilst preserving the best of traditional values and not throwing out the baby with the bathwater. We seem to have unequal societies, based on the market place where winner takes all, and with power concentrated still with the wealthy and the privileged. – both in England and in India. Corruption is indeed rife, although a little more obvious and less easily covered up there than it is here. Indian cricket is much more democratic than cricket in England, and popularity is not always to be sneered at as populism. What Western liberals find “pathetic” or mere “cricket hysteria” when they see “skinny boys with the delicate milk-chocolate features of north-eastern Assam, Darjeeling and Manipur” charging in “ to bowl at dark-skinned Biharis and Bengalis” and “skilful Muslim boys wearing lacy white skull-caps” smashing a ball to the garden’s farthest corner, or that “a tiny Christian girl, with plastic rosary beads joggling around her neck might be sent to retrieve it” – children of employers and the employed playing together – I see as inspirational hope. Perhaps it is time for an Indian to write about English Cricket , the Corruption implicit in Old Ways, and the Troublesome Decline of Modern England. It might also be a cracking good read, especially given Stuart Broad’s refusal to walk (against every spirit of the game as I know it), and the reduction of the recent Ashes series against Australia to, literally, a piddling affair. Madhav Sharma. 2013.
Posted on: Mon, 04 Nov 2013 13:24:33 +0000
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