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[Blwe_torch]

Memories of Mankad & Roy from a very long distance
 
 
Express columnist recalls listening on crackling radio in faraway New Zealand as Indian openers set the record
   
TREVOR CHESTERFIELD          
 
Posted online: Wednesday, January 18, 2006 at 0000 hours IST
 
 
Nostalgia has a quirky habit of popping up when least expected. The marathon partnership between Dravid and Sehwag in Lahore brought back memories of the very record they came so close to breaking. It recalled those quixotic moments of frustration and entertainment on a long train journey between Christchurch and Invercargill as the old eccentric army-issue shortwave radio crackled and spluttered and we battled to listen to the drama in far-off Madras.
Ian Galloway, New Zealand’s radio man in India and occasional 12th man on the Kiwis’ first tour of the subcontinent, was doing his best, with the help of a couple of local commentators, to explain why the tourists were hopelessly being outplayed.

As the green flat Canterbury plains rolled past unnoticed, Vinoo Mankad’s name popped out of the radio. It was a name that created immediate interest as he was called to arms to combat Trueman and Bedser in 1952.

 
This is how a young Kiwi cricket fanatic pieced together India’s record partnership of 413. It was January 6, 1956 and by the time the train rolled into a place called Omaru in the South Island, news that Polly Umrigar had won the toss again — four out of five in the series — was not appreciated. How lucky can you get?

One of the frustrations of listening to shortwave radio is that the waves are like those of a mobile server, dependent on reception. It was hot and dry and bottled water non-existent and the train had a long way to go. As the wheels went clickety-click it was easy to sit and imagine the stadium the way Galloway described it. Noise from the packed terraces came across in waves, rolling loud and soft. Pankaj Roy and Mankad. Trying to keep score on a moving train is far from easy.

Writing down names in an old scorebook borrowed at school and never returned — and now full of the tour records. Partnerships, exciting and exotic names learnt in school geography lessons.

As phrases such as ‘Delhi belly’ became part of the local vocabulary and Galloway and his radio collaborators taunted me on that journey to the southernmost city in the world, all that mattered was keeping accurate score.

Marking dot balls in the bowlers’ squares and ruling off batsmen’s scoring efforts on a strokechart was only part of the story. While all this was going on, the rolling countryside and later the magnificent Southern Alps were ignored, as Messrs Mankad and Roy tested our patience. None of this was easy as the battery had to be changed twice and one almost lost a whole over when the commentary faded between the hills. Was that a maiden by Harry Cave, the captain? Was that a dropped catch? Sutcliffe in the slips grassing Roy. It was all so hard to tell. The commentary kept on fading. There was a jaunty sound from the Madras commentator. The end of Day One: a century for Roy and one for Mankad. India 234 without loss. Kiwis being roasted in the Madras dust.

Fortunately Day Two coincided with a move into digs and, with batteries charged, able to listen to the continued torture. India went on to win by an innings, so the partnership meant something. The names Roy and Mankad forever enshrined in the records.

For a brief while the record was under siege; happily history turned its back on this latest effort. It wouldn’t have quite been the same.

http://cricket.expressindia.com/fulliestory.php?content_id=86107