The cricket jamboree is upon the nation once again. In its infancy, the Indian Premier League, which turned 10 this season, had been dismissed by purists. This constituency - it has shrunk considerably with each successful edition of the IPL weaning away a sizeable chunk of sceptics - was dismissive of the league's lineage and longevity. It was said that a circus had come to town. There is no doubting the IPL's capacity to entertain. It brings together businessmen with deep pockets, film stars, raucous crowds, cheerleaders, and, not to forget, some cricket as well. But it is not all fun and games. The IPL is serious business, for cricketers, their teams and, especially, for sponsors, broadcasters and franchisees. The expenses that are incurred, say, on the tournament and its marquee players, are, to put it mildly, phenomenal. But the returns, given the IPL's popularity, are handsome. So everyone is happy at the end of the day. Save for the old school of cricketing thought.

One of the persistent criticisms against the IPL concerns its alleged ability to twist the nature of the game, including Test cricket, that hallowed turf of the Old Guard. But many of the changes have ironically been better for the longer version of the game. The IPL has redeemed Test cricket in several ways. Fielding standards have improved as has the pace of matches; shot-selection has become imaginative and positive results, instead of drawn games, are now common. Ways of seeing the game - John Berger would have agreed - have been transformed too. The commercial pressures on the IPL have made it amenable to innovation. Modern technology is integral to its packaging and presentation. The stadiums may be full, but there is still no room for complacency. The league, in a bid to increase the size of its flock, is intent on casting its spell on the uninitiated: the elderly, housewives and the studious. LED stumps were used last year and the Spidercam - a contraption that enables cameras to be suspended overhead - had been roped in even earlier. If technical wizardry fails, the cheerleading contingent can always be counted upon to spread the charm. The IPL is popular with cricketers too, but probably for different reasons. The remuneration is the best in the business, and one does not even have to work as hard as in Test cricket. The league also propels the unheralded, such as cricketers from India's small towns, on to the international stage.

The IPL is the proverbial golden goose. But not everything is benign about this bird. The spotlight can, at times, be dazzling, shifting the focus of inexperienced players towards lucre. Domestic tournaments, and not the IPL, are the real repositories of indigenous talent. They must be allowed to survive the IPL's depredations. There is also the fear that the league's competitive edge could rid cricket-lovers of their finer sensibilities. Does the vanishing tribe of purists, the IPL's great adversary, then have a point?