I am acutely aware of a growing sense of anticipation tinged with a vague feeling of guilt at being away from work -- and heading to the Oval -- on a bright summer morning in London.
It is a ground that I have passed by often, but one that has seldom inspired awe or brought back vivid memories in the manner of Lord's. Two events of the recent past have provoked this particular bus ride into Kennington -- Sachin Tendulkar's opening of the India Room, and the untimely death of Eknath Solkar.
While I am curious about the idea behind an India Room within a cricket ground in faraway London, I have also been led to dwell upon Ekki's much-celebrated exploits during a period that must surely rank as one of Indian cricket's finest.
He chose this ground to play a stellar role in India's first ever Test match win on English soil. I only have memories of a black and white picture of him lying prostrate at Alan Knott's feet at short-leg, having dived full length to pluck a catch out of nothing and with it, tilting the match decisively in India's favour.
I have also come then, in a manner of speaking, to see where it all happened -- my own personal tribute to a man who by all accounts, had a heart the size of India itself and one described by Bishen Bedi as having made the famed spin quartet appear twice the bowlers they actually were.
As I clamber down from the bus and make my way towards the Jack Hobbs gate, I realise that I have arrived early for my meeting with Paul Sheldon, the CEO of the Surrey cricket club. His secretary Carol wonders if I would like to "have a wander around" while she sees if Paul is ready for me.
I walk out into the ground through a door that Carol open-sesames for me. The ground staff are busy preparing for a Twenty-20 match between Surrey and Middlesex later in the day. I pick out the familiar landmark of the gasholders overlooking the ground and the impressive, serpentine arch that covers the new OCS stand, a hallmark of The Oval's ongoing ambitious redevelopment project. Just as I begin to make my way towards the Pavilion end, I can see Carol beckoning me inside.
Paul Sheldon must have the best location for an office anywhere in the world. Sitting at his busy desk, he looks down straight at the square and I am immediately envious. For a brief moment, I savour the somewhat unrealistic vision of a consulting room where I would tend to my patients while catching all the action during an Ashes Test, separated from the square and 23,000 spectators by a mere glass window.
The idea of an India Room, Paul explains, came about during a meeting with Sir Ghulam Noon, the ethnic-food business tycoon, and the former Prime Minister John Major, both avowed cricket enthusiasts.
"As part of our current plans for development of The Oval, we wanted a signature symbol to celebrate the rich tradition of cricket in India as well as the passion for the game within the Indian community in Britain." Sheldon says.
Sir Ghulam contributed a major share of the half million pounds that were raised to make the India Room a reality. I am curious about the existence of other country-specific rooms at The Oval. Paul tells me that besides the England suite, which is already up and running, there are plans for three other yet-to-be-christened rooms including, potentially, a Pakistan Room.
It is not difficult to see immediately that the oft-mentioned "passion for the game" in the subcontinent is also a ready source of funds from wealthy immigrants to this country who, far away from home and devoted to a game that they follow to the point of madness, are also eager to be recognised as meaningful contributors to society in their adopted land.
It seems like a particularly creative way to bring money into the game, and Paul admits as much when he tells me that I could, if I came up with a half-million pounds, have one of the rooms named after myself. I realise with a slight start that he might only be half joking.
The India Room is a part of the spanking new OCS stand and seats 120 spectators with a breathtaking view of the ground. Occupying the second floor of the stadium, it is flanked on one side by the distinctive, massive arch covering the new stand at the Vauxhall end and to its right is the pavilion.
A plaque commemorating the opening by Sachin Tendulkar greets me as soon as I enter, and adjoining it on the wall are pictures of Rahul Dravid and Sachin. The rest of the room consists essentially of photographs of contemporary cricketers and those from the not-so-distant past. So Bhajji and Kumble share space with Sunny and Kapil Dev on one side of the room, while Ravi Shastri is separated from Sourav Ganguly by a giant plasma-screen television on another.
At the far end, opposite to the largest panel of photographs, is a superb picture of Pandit Nehru in flannelled cricketing gear, looking at once both the scholarly statesman and accomplished cricketer. Paul Sheldon points out to me early in the course of our meeting that the India Room will continue to evolve in the specific Indian cricketing memorabilia on display, and this reassures me somewhat about a growing concern that there really is little in the room at present that captures either momentous occasions in our cricket history or honors heroes from the past. Herein lies a wonderfully tempting opportunity to paint upon a larger-than-life canvas and truly celebrate Indian cricket.
It is approaching mid-day and a mild breeze blows across my face. I am among the handful of people in this massive cricket stadium in South London, and a calm silence shrouds me as I look upon the picture-perfect ground below. I can close my eyes now and almost see a wiry Bhagwat Chandrasekhar running in to bowl, sleeves buttoned all the way down to his hands, and as the nervous batsman pokes worriedly at the ball, an airborne Eknath Solkar diving at short leg to pouch the edge, heralding yet another Indian victory in a distant land.
Madhav Thambisetty, MBBS, DPhil (Oxon), thanks Carole Turner, Paul Sheldon and Sam Streatfeild for help with this article.
Also read: Sachin opens 'India Room'
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