Live From Chepauk – Day 1

The metro station at Indira Nagar (the one closest to my current abode), quite conceivably like several others in Chennai, is a weird specimen. It blends a majestic ballast with a shabby exterior. The station is well-designed but extremely poorly maintained. As a result of the unseasonal rains that lashed the city last week, there were several pools of water greeting one on arrival. When you arrive here, particularly for the first time, you are bound to feel a wee bit awed. The light is insufficient, even in daytime, and contrary to what you might expect in any place in India picked uniformly at random, the population density is distressingly low. I had experienced this earlier and this was part of the reason why I was apprehensive about using these trains. But I had put these thoughts out of my mind given the surprising resolve with which I had set about my task.

After walking for a seemingly endless time through spaces that seemed to be created exclusively for me, I reached the tiny ticket counter. Luckily, I knew that Chepauk was one of the stations on the track in the direction of Chennai Beach and that the stadium was right next to it. (Thank you Google Maps). The person at the ticket counter was extraordinarily helpful. “You going to watch the match?” he asked me. “Yes”, I said, speaking the half-truth. Why does he need to know that I am only going to buy tickets for the weekend? “I’ll give you return ticket” he offered. Evidently, he was quite happy. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come, that things were about to look up pretty soon. I bought the return ticket for Rs. 10 (25 cents) – an American would easily pass it off as a joke that I could buy a return ticket as cheap as this – and proceeded towards the platform. One really good thing about these metro stations is that directions are very clearly marked and there is very little chance of even the dumbest of people getting lost.

The train arrived soon enough. Now I have very rarely traveled in local trains, only once in a Mumbai local train, and that was the afternoon local from Churchgate to Victoria Terminus. I know of course what train travel in Mumbai is via accounts from friends and the media. Yeah, you can call me a spoilt child, I know. I knew Chennai wouldn’t be as bad as Mumbai, but was extremely pleasantly surprised to find that it was almost a ride in the park – it was not crowded at all, which could either mean the operation is a big success or a big failure depending on the way you look at it.

On the train was another young guy wearing a Google-ACM-geekish looking T-shirt and carrying a backpack on his shoulder. After some time, he asked me (in Tamil of course) something related to Chepauk. Naturally, I expressed helplessness. He asked the same of another man and was apparently satisfied with the answer. I do not know an iota of Tamil but I could figure out that he was asking about Chepauk station. I ventured to ask him (in English) whether he was going to see the match. He was. He seemed a nice bloke. I felt happy to see someone eager to go to the match making sure he made it on time. “Stay back, enemy, you still have some way to go so long as we have our staunch loyalists fighting.” – I thought to myself. At the same time I felt a tinge sad that I was not going to be there at the stadium today.

I knew that the stadium was close to the station and was reasonably confident of finding my way around but I received another pleasant surprise on discovering that I was already there as soon as I put my foot outside the complex. Surely, things were falling into place today. Surely, I would not have any problems in getting tickets now? I asked for the ticket counter, for the stands that my friend had recommended as reasonable yet offering a good view and comfortable seats. Just outside the counter I met another young guy who seemed quite desperate to sell one of the tickets he had bought. It was a ticket for all 5 days worth Rs. 1200. He was willing to sell it for Rs. 1000. I, of course, was planning to buy tickets only for the weekend, which would have cost me about Rs. 600. But, right at that moment, looking at the crowds streaming in, I found the offer too tempting and surrendered myself to my instincts. I had a 5-day pass and I could if I wanted to go watch the Test any time I wanted. I was still not sure I had the energy to do this but I wanted to go in right at that moment and not be on the train back to IMSC. My return ticket was valid for the whole day after all. I confirmed with the guy that the ticket was indeed genuine, handed him 2 notes of Rs. 500, felt a bit awkward with so many policemen watching me trade in the black market and then walked in through the gate.

Security check was a breeze. No problems whatsoever. As soon as I entered the stands I was convinced I had been stupid all along to even hesitate about coming here. I have watched a few ODI games in Nehru Stadium, Pune with varying degrees of enthusiasm and enjoyment but none of the experiences come close to watching real cricket in an arena. The Chidambaram Stadium is quite beautiful. The officials have done a good job in making sure that the stadium retains a sense of cool because as is well-known the heat and humidity can get brutal here. Towards that end, not only are all stands well-covered and the better ones provided with adequate cooling facilities but the colors are most soothing – green and blue. In addition, the stands are covered by cement material which helps to keep them cool.

The crowd was great. It was by no means a full house, but equally you could not call it disappointing. It was a vociferous crowd making plenty of noise. It had groups of youngsters flocking in, it had couples – young and old, fathers explaining to their sons nuances of this great game, and sons, in turn, asking curious questions. It had a fair sprinkling of the female population of all ages – another pleasant surprise and also a few South African supporters, both black and white. The crowd made a lot of noise using all sorts of improvised musical instruments but the show-stealer was the African group singing at the top of their voices. A group of Indian youth tried to compete with them, most unsuccessfully. But, importantly, the crowd lived up to its reputation of being extremely knowledgeable. It cheered the fall of wickets as also delightful strokes, it applauded the great bouncers as also the maiden overs, it appreciated the delightful flicks as much as the solid forward defensives. And no, there were no thugs or goons or politicians in there. Yes, there was a fair number of policemen, who also got a chance to enjoy the game. Indeed, the fact that the crowd was lesser in quantity as compared to what it would have been in an ODI enhanced its own quality and made viewing a pleasing experience. Test cricket is alive and kicking in this country. “Boo, Enemy, Boo”

All in all, I realized that the idea of cricket watching in stadiums in India being a bit of a drag held no water. I still have to give my certificate to the toilet facilities though since I did not use them all day today. Water bottles could be carried in (a welcome relief) and the food facilities outside the stand were quite decent and exceedingly cheap. The icing on the cake was the fact that one could leave and return whenever one wished – spectator comfort in India still has some way to go but progress has been made.

The view from where I sat, while not being optimal was quite a decent one. It was the fineleg-long-off angle from the point of view of a left-handed batsmen. Several of the players fielded close to our position at different times and we could look at them up close. Most players were responsive to the crowd’s appreciation – Sreesanth, RP Singh, being the foremost. Harbhajan Singh also spent a fair bit of time at our boundary and while Sachin never patrolled it, he came halfway towards on occasions. I had heard that cameras were on the list of prohibited items so I had opted not to risk carrying mine. I have a poor recent history with cameras, but apparently smaller cameras could be sneaked in quite easily. Of course mobile phone cameras were omnipresent. One interesting tidbit in the day was when Sreesanth was fielding at the boundary a couple of the ball-boys while offering him water also passed on some advice. Sreesanth smiled and patted the kids on the back then told them that he would be catching the ball on the boundary pretty soon and showed them how he would do it. Of course that catch never came.

The cricket itself was reasonably entertaining. Not the best ever seen, by any stretch of imagination. I enjoyed the strokeplay by Smith and McKenzie as also their wickets taken by Kumble and Harbhajan. But those moments when the game gets boring when you watch on TV are conspicuously absent when you are in the stands – possibly because there are so many things going on that you can keep track of – on the pitch, in the outfield, on the boundary, in the stands and in all other places. Besides you also do not feel the frustration of your team not doing too well that you do when watching from home. I think this is because you see the players so close out there performing and realize that they are trying their best. This I think is very similar to the difference between watching cinema and watching theater. Watching test cricket in the battleground arena is the ultimate theater.

Amidst this awesome experience, I always knew at the back of my mind that I needed to report for work at some point in the day. Reluctantly, I returned at tea time. I would be back however – maybe in the afternoon tomorrow and then all through the weekend. This is going to be an experience to cherish.