PAKISTAN won the toss and a case could have been made for putting India in. There was a tinge of green on the wicket, the weather was inclement and the conditions seemed ideal for the Pakistan bowlers. But this was a no-risk series, safety, not only first but right through and Pakistan batted. India would have done the same. There seemed an extra national pride in winning against India and an extra national shame in losing to it. India reciprocated this sentiment in full. So far, even the side-matches that Pakistan had played on this tour had been drawn.
Even though Hanif had cracked a century against East Zone in Jamshedpur, a match that led up to the Calcutta Test match, he looked disturbed against the Indian fast-medium bowler, Ramakant Desai and seemed to be shying away from his bouncer. Some in the Pakistan camp felt that Desai ‘chucked’ his bouncer for it seemed to steeple up to the batsman rather too sharply. Every batsman gets a kind of mental block against a particular bowler. Was Hanif, Desai’s bunny? He looked at ease against all other bowlers but played Desai awkwardly. All the same, he scored 56 and shored up the Pakistan innings after Imtiaz was out cheaply, and he and Saeed Ahmed put on 72 for the second wicket. But runs were hard to come by and though there was no devil in the wicket, batting was not easy and Pakistan ended the first day at 201 for 6, not enough for us to sleep peacefully.
Hanif was out to Desai, caught by Abbas Ali Baig, an occasion for celebrating by letting off some fire-crackers. But Mushtaq Mohammad was batting on 28, so the family was represented. Mushtaq was not only still in his teens but looked the schoolboy that he was, but there was a maturity about his batting, “the promises to keep,” of Robert Frost. And with him was Intikhab Alam, he of the “broad shoulders” as John Arlott would later describe him in that Hampshire burr and which made his voice his signature.
More visitors came to see me and Mahmood Hussain had an altercation with a college professor in the hotel lobby with an exchange of insults, and Mahmood Hussain winning the day by telling the college professor that he (Mahmood Hussain) was a graduate and foreign-trained in rubber technology and father of two. Imtiaz who was a witness and a non-combatant, told Mahmood Hussain that he was only a father of one and Mahmood Hussain told Imtiaz that “ father of two” sounded more authoritative. To say the least, Mahmood Hussain was a ‘character’, but his heart was in the right place and he gave hundred per cent and wore his Pakistan cap with pride. He not only bowled fast but was a fast bowler by temperament, both on and off the field.
The second day saw Mushtaq and Intikhab extend their partnership and they had put on 88 for the seventh wicket before Mushtaq was out for 61. Intikhab kept belting the ball to all points on the compass and made 56 invaluable runs. Pakistan was all out for 301, the last four wickets putting on exactly one hundred runs. The way of looking at 301 was that Pakistan had played its way to safety. The other was that this was potentially a match-winning score. At close India, was 83 for 2. The game seemed evenly poised.
Vizzy agreed with this, though he felt that the tilt was India’s way and I felt that it was Pakistan’s way. We were both optimists and biased. “The glorious uncertainties of cricket,” he said. “Indeed,” I had countered, “it works either way.” One of the many clashes I had with him on the air, but always good-natured. We respected each other’s patriotism.
The forecast was for rain or the possibility of it. Weather reports were notoriously unreliable, but the atmospherics was not auspicious. Play began on the third day, under grey skies, a canopy of rain clouds that shut out the sun and the setting was melancholic. There was no breeze and the leaves of the trees that studded the ground did not rustle. On a more positive note, the conditions were ideal for Fazal Mahmood. But it was Mahmood Hussain who drew first blood when he had Jaisimha caught by Wallis Mathias at first slip, and India had lost a wicket without adding to its overnight score of 83 for 2. This set the crowd back and for it, the morning shade got gloomier. India was on its way to being routed out when it found itself at 146 for 6. The rain came down. The clouds that gather in the Bay of Bengal meant business. This was no passing shower, a light drizzle. It was serious rain. It was the end of the day’s play, a grim New Year’s present for the Pakistan team. Still, our hopes were alive for the following day was a rest day, and if it did not rain anymore, we were in with a chance.
We were also in for a surprise. Though the wicket and the bowler’s run-up were covered, in the wisdom of the umpires, the outfield was too wet for play to start on time on the fourth day. This was a shocker to us. I went to the Pakistan dressing-room and Fazal was pacing up and down with the playing-conditions rule-book in his hand. Understandably, he wanted the match to start, the Indian captain did not and it was upto the umpires, Messrs S.K.Ganguli and Satyaii Roy, to decide. Fazal shoved the rule-book at me and asked me to confirm if he was right. I told him that the ground was perfectly fit to play but the rules did leave matters in the hands of the umpires. The umpires could cancel the New Year and say it was still 1960! When I discussed this over the radio, I tried to keep my calm but did say, with some emotion, that had India been in the driving seat, as Pakistan was, the umpires might have been less rigid. I saw Pearson Suarita nodding in agreement. I did not want to get into an unholy row of my own and the commentators could hardly get the umpires to change their minds. I did leave no one in doubt, the listeners in particular, what I thought of this high-handedness. Normally, one would have expected the crowd, who had paid good money to get in, would have wanted to see play but whenever any Pakistani player appeared on the ground, he was jeered. Valuable time was being lost and the Pakistan team felt that it was grand larceny.
When play finally got under way, India was shot out for 180 and Pakistan led by 121 runs. Fazal had bowled magnificently. His bowling figures were an amazing 5 for 26. There was no better bowler in the world than Fazal when there was some juice in the wicket.
Pakistan needed quick runs and got them, but no quite quick enough and Pakistan declared at 146 for 3, an overall lead of 267. But there was not enough time, though Pakistan was able to give India a fright when four wickets had fallen for 65. The one wicket that I remember was that of Abbas All Baig being bowled by Haseeb Ahsan. Both Haseeb and Intikhab was turning the ball menacingly. Baig had come one down, played forward to Haseeb, leaving enough daylight between bat and pad, and the ball slipped through and clipped the leg-stump. It was a classical dismissal. Baig stood his ground momentarily, as if, waking from a nightmare. Haseeb had not only bowled him but bowled him out of the Indian team. He did not play in the remaining two Tests. Pakistan had come close. India had been saved by rain and by the two umpires and the Pakistan team left Eden Gardens, both disappointed and angry. A sour tour was turning bitter.
I left for Dhaka and I was met by Moinuddin Choudary, who was PIA’s public relations officer. He did not wear his politics on his sleeves but in unguarded moments, he was not able to conceal that he was a closet East Pakistani nationalist. He would, in years to come, also show that he was a young man of flexible loyalties, like straw, going with the wind as far as I, his benefactor, was concerned. But then he was no different than many others.
East Pakistan was calm. Nothing suggested then of the tumult that lay ahead, the tearing asunder of one part and the visceral hating with which the parting came. There appeared to be no feeling of estrangement or alienation. But, as they say, still waters run deep. Or even better, beware the fury of a patient man. But Dhaka was Pakistan then, it was like coming home. The cricket tour in India was beginning to get on my nerves. Only two more Test matches remained, Madras and Delhi. I would have liked to see more of India, without the passion of the cricket. And the cricket was grim without it being exciting, and there was a sad, fatal beauty about it. It offered no joy.
PAKISTAN won the toss and a case could have been made for putting India in. There was a tinge of green on the wicket, the weather was inclement and the conditions seemed ideal for the Pakistan bowlers. But this was a no-risk series, safety, not only first but right through and Pakistan batted. India would have done the same. There seemed an extra national pride in winning against India and an extra national shame in losing to it. India reciprocated this sentiment in full. So far, even the side-matches that Pakistan had played on this tour had been drawn.
