Extracts from Raju Mukherji's "The Magic of Eden Gardens", The Sportstar, November 13, 1993.
Eden Gardens has an exclusiveness of its own. Ethereal and elusive the enduring charm of Eden Gardens has lent an aura of its own on cricketers past and present, young and old, competitive and friendly. Endearing and enchanting, the emerald green carpet and the earnest crowd have held tough men in flannels spellbound."
"Charlie Griffith, as macho as they come, ran with tears streaming down, thinking that the crowd was after him to avenge Nari Contractor's injury! Actually, the crowd was trying to escort him to the Grand Hotel as riots and flames broke out on that fateful New Year's day in 1967."
"Cynical cricketers have left Eden with egos shattered. If Phil Edmonds thought that by reading a newspaper while fielding he was doing something novel by way of instigation, he was sadly mistaken. For the Garden' crowd merely reminded him that he was not the first to do so. Mike Gatting faced jeers as he vainly tried a 'reverse sweep'. As did Bill Lawry when he hit a stationary
ball that had slipped out of Rusi Surti's hands."
" Yet the same Gardens' crowd warmed up to the appeal of Tony Greig. As the huge frame of Greig went down on its knees and folded hands, the gesture moved each and every one present. The
bugle called the "kasor ghonta" rattles and the "Baba Taraknath..." chorus rising to a crescendo went mum to show mercy where mercy was asked for. When the gentleman-cricketer, Majid
Jehangir Khan, student of history at Cambridge, no less, walked in to open the innings at Eden, he gently doffed his floppy, white hat in homage to the ground and its heritage."
"When Asif Iqbal walked back to the pavilion after a freak run-out dismissal, the crowd to a man realized that he was walking out of Test cricket for ever. The huge gathering rose as one. None initially clapped. Not a sound was heard. Some had glassy eyes, others softly cleared their throats. But all were genuinely sorry to see a gallant exhibition of running between-wickets come to an end. As the despondent figure receded, a thunderous applause went up that shook the coliseum to its foundations. Eden Gardens went into raptures when Steve Waugh gestured to the umpires that while taking the catch his heel had touched the boundary rope."
"Eden Gardens has seen history made and unmade. For more than a hundred years, the magic of Eden has held its sway over cricket and cricketers. Here earlier this century, Ranji had glanced and glided as his silken sleeves fluttered. Here Sir Jack and Herbert Sutcliffe had shown their mastery for Vizzy's XI. Sir Len never played at Eden but came to pay homage while on an official visit to Calcutta. As did Graeme Pollock last February. He was open-mouthed to learn from me that our heavy roller "Ganga Ram" has seen cricket for more than 200 years."
"Unfortunately, Sir Donald Bradman never came to Gardens. But the "Black Bradman" George Headley trod on it, as did Keith Miller and Dennis Compton during the War. For Nayudu and Amarnath, the garden of Eden was like a second home. As it was for Badal Dutta and Premangshu Chatterjee. So it was for Sir Frank Worrell with the doyen of commentators, Berry Sarbadhikari, beside him; and also for Mike Brearley as he confided to me while adopting yet another child at the Salt Lake S.O.S. village in Calcutta."
"Eden has a way with cricket and cricketers. Where else would 93,000 plus wend their way to the ground, with another 93,000 plus cursing their luck beyond the gates? It was here that Bishen Singh Bedi first tossed and turned. As he went over-the-wicket he went over the next generation of left-arm spinners. It was here that Mohammed Azharuddin began his Test career and the
silver streak. It was here that the young lion, Vinod Kambli first slashed and pounced as he would be doing for the next 10 years."
"Cricket and nothing but cricket has held a special place for Eden Gardens. Even the polished footwork of "Black Pearl" Pele made Gardens grimace in horror. It was sacrilege, no less. As
were the military tattoos and the jamborees that go under the euphenism of cultural shows."
"Eden Gardens' character developed on the lines of those large-hearted men of former years. A small incident in the 30s is worth relating; Natore were playing the Calcutta Cricket Club and
the former won the match handsomely. While having tea after the game, the skipper of CCC asked the Maharaja of Natore how many professionals he had in his team as much as to say there was no
credit in defeating CCC with so many pros in the team."
"The Maharaja looked around the table as if counting the pros, and replied, "Only one." Major White, the CCC captain, thereupon asked, "Who is he?" And the Maharaja repled, "Myself as I have
nothing else to do but play cricket," adding with emphasis, "all the other players are my invitees, who out of their love for cricket honor me by playing for my team..." What a splendid spirit the Maharaja showed on that occasion and in what regard he held all his players."
"Thankfully, the same spirit remains. Eden Gardens loves her players, fair or dark, amateur or professional. What my dear Gardens shirks from are those vulgar mercenaries, whether they be
players, administrators or journalists. The magic of Eden Gardens is enshrined in its purity."
