For a British-Asian cricketer who has parents or grandparents from India, a tour there is a special one. You realise cricket is a religion here—the passion, players worshipped like gods...you wonder how these players cope with pressure. I have to admire the likes of Sachin Tendulkar, Harbhajan Singh, Sourav Ganguly, Rahul Dravid. My first experience of playing in India was during my Under-19 days and our team included the great James Anderson, Ian Bell and myself. India had Gautam Gambhir and Parthiv Patel. Gambhir was way above our league then; I remember he scored a double hundred. In India as part of the England team in 2006, I again played against Gambhir, then part of the India side. For me it was a reflection of how far I have developed as a cricketer. Rod Marsh was certainly right when he said to me, “You have deficiencies in some areas but could be a late developer”. Touring India has become easier over the years. In 2006, I was very ill with diarrhoea before a warm-up match. But I played it and when I got Suresh Raina out stumped, it elicited Bishan Bedi’s famous response: “Getting a batsman out stumped is like getting him out twice—once in the air and once off the pitch”.
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Slated to be the first Sikh to play for England, I was in the news around the build-up to the first Test in Nagpur. As a youngster, all I wanted was to play for England and become the best spinner in the world. When I took my first Test wicket, I didn’t celebrate it as a special occasion—I was in shock! Looking back at the Test now, I took the wickets of Sachin, Dravid and Mohammad Kaif—not a bad way to start a career. Test cricket is a special form of the game, and in India it takes stranger forms. I realised it when I dropped Dhoni in Mumbai and, to thousands of spectators, became a hero for a brief while. My interactions with legends of Indian cricket were special too. The modesty of Tendulkar and Dravid and the fighting spirit of Harbhajan and Kumble stood out for me.
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Touring India isn’t all about cricket; it is also about Indian culture and the food of this amazing country. This was my favourite part of the tour—tasting the delectable cuisines of different cities. We were amazed how content people were, how the chaotic traffic seems to work. Playing on India’s red soil pitches, compared to clay pitches, is a huge difference. The former turns more, while clay pitches are flat and skiddy. As a spinner you have to change the way you bowl. You can bowl with flight and let the pitch do the talking; on clay wickets you have to bowl tighter lines.
For the Mohali Test, I needed complimentary tickets—all my friends and family came watch it and, being in Punjab, it felt strange to see so many people from my background supporting me. I was touched by their love. In fact, wherever I go in India the love showered on you is so special, so humbling.
I have toured India a few times. I was there when the unfortunate and heart-breaking 2008 Mumbai terrorist attacks happened. I wasn’t sure if the series would continue, but we agreed on playing on for the Indian fans. The Chennai Test was set up for me to prove that I am a world-class spinner—bowling well while defending a 4th innings score of well over 300 runs should have been easy. But I didn’t find any rhythm and bowled awfully; my counterpart Swann bowled beautifully, using a slower pace and getting the ball to turn and bounce. I soon grasped that I could be unseated as the top spinner for England. Swann ended up being one of England’s best spinners and is now enjoying a wonderful media career.
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I haven’t played for England since 2013 and considered a comeback in the county championship, but at 38 I am probably taking a youngster’s position. But you never know. There is a cricketer playing in a T20 Mumbai league aged 41, so I have a chance too. For my second chapter, I am studying for a MA in international sports journalism at St Mary’s University and hope for a career in the media. If I can’t play the game at least I can talk about the game.
