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| Unmatched charm |
Till about 1840, the present Eden Gardens campus — of which the cricket ground was merely a part — was open land situated to the north of Fort William and at the western corner of the Esplanade, overlooking the Strand on the Hooghly. The then governor-general, Lord Auckland, and his family conceived the idea of a garden among the shrubs and trees that formed the northern periphery of Fort William. Initially, the park was known as Auckland Circus Gardens, but was rechristened Eden Gardens by 1854. The Royal Botanic Garden authorities were responsible for looking after the Eden Gardens.
In 1856, a Burmese pagoda of exquisite beauty was installed in the park by Lord Dalhousie. A band of musicians was in attendance every evening to entertain the prominent citizens who came to enjoy the fresh breeze. In 1864, the eastern boundary of the Eden Gardens parkland was extended, and the Calcutta Cricket Club given exclusive use of it in 1864. By 1871, the CCC had acquired the permission to have a permanent pavilion replace the thatched hut that had been serving the purpose till then.
The sylvan surroundings of the Eden Gardens enabled the Britons to relive the enjoyment of their ‘summer game’ in the pleasant Calcutta winter. The lush green turf, manicured to perfection, was regarded as the finest in the world of cricket. Alas, the pavilion is no more. After having been a witness to more than 100 years of cricket history, it was sacrificed to meet the demands of commercialization. If only the wooden pavilion had been preserved, it would have become a place of cricketing pilgrimage.
Eden Gardens has always had a way with cricket and cricketers. Where else in the world can one think of more than 60,000 enthusiastic spectators following every ball, no matter what the outcome? On this ground, cricket evokes many different emotions in many different people. The environs of the Eden Gardens, though no longer reminiscent of the beautiful English cricket grounds, blend marvellously with the mellow December sun that heralds a typical winter morning in Calcutta. Not too long ago, the pall of mist over the languid Hooghly had an ally in the swaying palms and towering poplars and pines that rustled playfully in the breeze to create perfect conditions for swing and swerve. Sadly, modern taste has led to the creation of of concrete stands and iron railings. As a result, the mist leaves at dawn and returns late, much to the comfort of batsmen today. Yet, even now, I can think of no other place that is as endearing as the Eden Gardens.
Recorded history has it that cricket came to the Eden Gardens in 1864 when members of the CCC found permanent refuge after having pitched wickets in the neighbourhood commons since 1780. The locals were thrilled at the sight of Englishmen playing cricket, which resembled indigenous games such as danguli and pittu. The English game was, undoubtedly, far more sophisticated and had a whole range of interesting possibilities to offer.
Cricket prospered in Calcutta even as the CCC made pioneering moves at the Eden Gardens. The princely families of Cooch Behar and Natore and, to an extent, the zamindars of Rangpur, Jessore, Murapara and Mymensingh patronized the game with the fervour of crusaders. Just as the CCC had its Eden Gardens, so did Cooch Behar its Woodlands in the suburb of Alipore, and Natore its Natore Park in Ballygunge, where we now have the Picnic Gardens.
The local population was delighted by the prospect but had to remain content with watching the Britons in action. It was only with the advent of the local clubs that the game became popular in the city. Professor Saradaranjan Roy — walking with books and bats — began to teach cricket to his Indian students at Metropolitan College (now Vidyasagar College) at a time when white students would be playing the game on the St Xavier’s College grounds. However, the real impetus for the locals came with the arrival of Ranjitsinhji, whose world-wide fame as a talented cricketer had already reached India. Thousands of Calcuttans gathered to watch Ranji play. For them, to find one of their own countrymen breaking the shackles and beating the Britons at their own game was an inspiring ideal.
Test cricket came to the Eden Gardens on the last day of 1926. India was still not in the official league when Arthur Gilligan, with the great Maurice Tate in tow, led his MCC team on to the emerald green. It was the second of the two unofficial Tests scheduled in India that year. Gilligan went back sufficiently impressed with the cricketing and the organizational abilities of Indians. It was only a matter of time before the Imperial Cricket Conference gave its official nod and accorded India a place in the pantheon of Test-playing nations.
In December 1933-34, Douglas Jardine of England (then MCC) went out to toss with the Indian captain, C.K. Nayudu and Eden Gardens became the second venue in India to host an official Test match. Since then, numerous Test matches have been played on this ground. However, India had to wait till 1961-62 to earn its first Test victory at the venue when Ted Dexter, Ken Barrington and others were forced to acknowledge the superiority of Polly Umrigar’s tactical acumen and the wiles of Salim Durani.
By the 1960s, cricket had become an insatiable passion for Calcuttans. The change from the meadow game ambience was brought about by the genius of Rohan Kanhai and Garfield Sobers as well as by the fury of Wesley Hall and Roy Gilchrist. Little did the brilliant West Indies cricketers of Gerry Alexander’s 1958 team realize that they were about to transform the city’s pleasant winter pastime into a collective infatuation.
There is no doubt that cricket was gaining popularity in the city ever since Ranji strode on to the Eden Gardens’ turf and the local hero, Bidhu Mukherji, hit centuries against the CCC. Mohammad Nissar’s ferocious pace, Mushtaq Ali’s lissome elegance and Sir Jack Hobbs’s brilliance had also captured the imagination of the locals who also marvelled at the exploits of Charlie Macartney, Vinoo Mankad, Lala Amarnath, Denis Compton, Keith Miller, and so on. But the actual metamorphosis came in 1958 with the advent of Rohan Kanhai and his mind-boggling stroke-play, which, at times, seemed to defy even the laws of gravity. Queues would form before a Test, and a match ticket became an established status symbol.
No longer could the cricket connoisseur enjoy his cricket in peace. He could not touch Everton Weekes’s gloves before the latter went on a rampage. Nor could he ask Sonny Ramadhin or Fazal Mahmood for autographs while they loitered near the fence. These remained only as long-lost memories.
The world of cricket began to change suddenly. Economics did away with reclining seats; riots chased the shamianas away; concrete galleries teemed with people; lack of facilities led to violence; stampedes caused losses of life and limb. The famous pavilion of 1871, where Reg Lagden and Tom Longfield played billiards has vanished. The wicker chairs, where the three Vijays — Merchant, Hazare and Manjrekar — relaxed after their customary mammoth innings have gone as well. The mahogany table where Premangshu Chatterjee and Shute Banerjee discussed strategy is now a distant memory. However not all the old guards have gone. “Gangaram”, the heavy roller, still stands. The turf that once prided itself on the fact that lawn tennis championships were held on it in the 1940s has also been able to maintain its former appearance.
Today, the stadium has undergone a complete face-lift. Individual bucket seats welcome 60,000-plus spectators who cross 17 gates to enter the hallowed grounds. The days of cucumber-tomato sandwiches and luchi-alur dom gulped down with fresh oranges and endless cups of tea are over. The era of humourous anecdotes have long receded. Wit has been replaced by sarcasm. Economics and statistics have taken over along with chaats and colas. However, even in the midst of mediocrity and false values, there are still a few men in the stands who cherish the artistry of V.V.S. Laxman. We still have people who doff their hats at Graeme Pollock, Clive Rice, Imran Khan, Javed Miandad, Andy Roberts and Michael Holding.These are the cricket lovers who make life bearable, who make it worthwhile to go down memory lane.
It is for them that the floodgates of nostalgia open. It was here at the Eden Gardens that ‘Prince’ Salim Durani and ‘Panther’ Chandu Borde lifted the hearts of the people time and again. Their memories are made of ‘Tiger’ Pataudi prowling in the covers; a young and ebullient Clive Lloyd chasing the red cherry as if his life depended on it; an injured Vijay Mehra helping India to win its first Test at the Eden Gardens with unmatched courage. They also cherish M.L. Jaisimha’s belligerence; the dignity of Majid Khan, the stolidity of Ken Barrington, the rhythm of Lindwall’s action and the unceasing hostility of Richard Hadlee.
Who can ever forget Gary Sobers sprinting at least 50 yards, from second slip to third man to catch a mistimed hook by Budhi Kunderan? Chandra’s magic spell in 1974? The aura of Richie Benaud? Saeed Ahmed’s combat with Subhash Gupte? The grace of Alan Davidson? Ajit Wadekar’s catch at first slip to dismiss Underwood? Or Eknath Solkar’s magic at short-leg, especially the catch he took to dismiss Tony Lewis?
Thankfully the disappointments at Eden Gardens have been few. None more so than the unfortunate incident of January 1, 1967, when a cruel assault on an innocent spectator, Sitesh Roy, sparked off a crowd invasion. The day’s play had to be called off. The match would have had a premature end if Dilip Ghosh of Calcutta Gymkhana Club had not coaxed Sir Frank Worrell — then on a lecture tour of Indian universities — to prevail upon the two teams to continue.
The stampede in a queue for daily tickets that ended in the loss of five lives still remains a haunting nightmare. That was in 1969 when Bill Lawry’s Australians were here. The game went on as none inside the ground had realized the extent of the tragedy that had taken place in the early hours of morning. Hopefully, the overcrowding of the 1960s and the resultant pandemonium are now a thing of the past.
However, if I were asked to choose just one of the many pleasant memories, my mind would would go back to that steamy morning of 1969 when the magnificent Graham McKenzie had shaken India’s foundation and reduced to side to two down for nought. McKenzie was breathing fire, and into the sizzling embers walked Vishy. The first delivery was patted to the point fence, leaving Paul Sheahan rooted at cover. The following missile was directed past the same fielder to the extra-cover fence. Only a rare genius could have executed the shots with such ease and elegance. Eden Gardens had stood up to salute the little man’s greatness.
Eden Gardens does not belong to India alone, but to the world of cricket. It was here that the West Indies vice- captain, Conrad Hunte, risked his life to bring down the West Indies Federation flag in the midst of the flames on that fateful day of January 1967. Steve Waugh sportingly waved six and did not appeal for a catch when his right foot had barely touched the boundary rope at this very ground. The same spirit still remains, the spirit that overcomes barriers. Eden Gardens will continue to weave its spell on generations of cricket lovers and cricket players in the days to come.