LET THE BATTLE COMMENCE: Ricky Ponting (left) and Andrew Strauss

Ashes are a real Test for the BBC

It is midnight in London with the car screens outside covered by a hard frost. Somehow both the red and yellow roses in the garden have survived into December but the flowers are frozen stiff. Some of the earlier drifts have thawed but there is still plenty of snow covering the grass. The temperature has fallen to well below freezing but over in Australia, the commentators on “TMS” (Test Match Special on BBC Radio) tell us the warm sun is out on another perfect day.

If England are as good as the English commentators say they are, India ought to begin early preparations for its tour here next summer.

Indians are fond of saying that the highest form of the game today are the Tests between India and Australia. That might have been true before the current Ashes series began but there is something a little different about this one — and that is the BBC commentary. I have detected quite a bit of anti-Aussie venom plus gloating at the enemy.

Michael Vaughan, for example, was a wonderful batsman but with his distinctive Yorkshire accent he is not a natural commentator. He and some of the other commentators have become virtual cheerleaders for England. They rubbish the Australians and egg England on. One day as play ended they sided on air with Andrew Strauss as the England skipper had a bad tempered exchange with Ricky Ponting, the Australian captain. Often, members of TMS will laugh irritatingly at their own jokes like overgrown schoolboys.

May be there is an explanation for this uncharacteristic British behaviour. Having been humiliated and sledged by the Australians for years, this is their chance to extract revenge.

One little aside: TMS commentators have an obsession with “fair hair”, as in, “Broad, fair haired, comes in….”

They are unlikely to drool: “Sourav Ganguly, dark haired, is taking off his shirt...”

ROLL CALL: Ratan Tata receiving an honorary degree at Cambridge from Prince Philip in June 2010

Parsi pride

It is not a requirement that Indians should be Parsi to get into the British Who’s Who, published by A & C Black, but it seems to help.

Among the handful of Indians who have gained entry for the first time are Ratan Tata, the novelist Rohinton Mistry and the chef Cyrus Todiwala, all talented Parsis.

The first edition of Who’s Who was published in 1849. In the current edition, the 163rd, there are more than 33,000 entries, including 1,000 new names, among them the said Parsis.

No one quite knows how people are chosen since the whole selection process is shrouded in mystery. It is not easy to get in but once in, people are in for life.

It is odd, though, that Ratan Tata, arguably the most distinguished captain of industry in India, had to wait until the age of 71 to find favour.

Tata should not be too upset, though. The oldest among the newcomers is cookery writer and broadcaster Marguerite Patten, who recently celebrated her 95th birthday.

I assume Tata’s name came up for consideration after the Tata group’s acquisition of Corus and Jaguar Land Rover. It would be fanciful to think he has Mamata Banerjee to thank for his inclusion.

However, Todiwala suggests that Rohinton Mistry might not have been considered had the Shiv Sena not forced Mumbai University to drop his novel, Such a Long Journey.

“Rohinton Mistry should thank Bal Thackeray,” remarks Todiwala.

Among the 1,000 new names are 232 first time MPs who get in automatically. This means, Valerie Vaz, sister of longtime Labour MP Keith Vaz, is in.

Also in is the Oscar-winning film director Danny Boyle, who should send a Christmas malt to Vikas Swarup, whose novel, Q&A, was adapted into the movie Slumdog Millionaire.

WHAT'S COOKING: Cyrus Todiwala

Dhansak delight

While on the subject of Parsis, I ought to include Cyrus Rustom Todiwala’s lament: “We are a declining community.”

There are about 20 well known Indian chefs in Britain who did their early training with the Taj group of hotels in India.

Born in Bombay in 1956, Todiwala now runs an Indian restaurant, Café Spice Namaste, in East London, where he specialises in unusual meats (“wild boar sausages” this week)

Although curry houses in Britain offer chicken and beef dhansak, Todiwala points out that the traditional Parsi dish is cooked only with lamb.

He outlines the recipe: “The Parsi mother starts preparing the lamb on Saturday afternoon for lunch on Sunday. It is cooked slowly overnight with five types of dal (lentils). A friend of mine loved eating his dhansak with a quarter pound of melted butter on top. Lunch finishes about four.”

“What happens next?” I ask, wondering about the dessert.

Todiwala’s reply is succinct: “Then the Parsi goes to sleep for the rest of the day.”

ART TALK: Sona Datta (left) with art collector Nirmalya Kumar (right)

Jamini’s gems

Jamini Roy is enjoying something of a revival in London.

Fresh from launching Urban Patua: The Art of Jamini Roy at the Oxford Bookshop in Calcutta, the author, Sona Datta, a British Museum curator, is back in London.

So, too, is her supporter, Professor Nirmalya Kumar of the London Business School who has one of the best private Jamini Roy collections in the world. Indeed, Sona’s book is illustrated with paintings taken from Nirmalya’s fabulous collection.

Last week, Nirmalya held a select party at his London apartment, with Sona giving guests a guided tour.

All his Jamini Roys have been acquired in Britain, Nirmalya tells me.

“That is why the colours are so bright,” he explains. “Had any come from India, the colours would have faded and the paper would have damp patches because of the high humidity back home.”

According to one of the guests, Conor Macklin, an art dealer, Britain is full of Jamini Roys which will be off-loaded on to the market “because the grandchildren of those who brought them from India do not care for them”.

Tittle tattle

Murders are a good indicator of changing England. What British newspapers adore are upper class murders, as depicted in the film, White Mischief (made in 1987, it was based on an incident in Kenya in 1941, when Sir Henry “Jock” Delves Broughton was acquitted of the murder of Josslyn Hay, Earl of Erroll, his wife’s lover, on the grounds the accused was a “gentleman”).

Low life murders also make good copy, providing there are enough of them, as in serial killings of prostitutes (see “the Yorkshire Ripper”).

Today, in multicultural Britain, the tabloids have led even ethnic media in giving saturation coverage to the murder in South Africa of the beautiful Gujarati bride, Anni Dewani nee Hindocha. Her husband, Shrien Dewani, has been accused of hiring hit men to have her bumped off during their honeymoon in South African, though no one has explained why.

This will be made into a TV film but no one would dare call it Brown Mischief.