When India first won the cricket World Cup, in 1983, I was living in Singapore, heading the office there of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. Singapore Television did not show the match; Cable TV, let alone satellite broadcasts, did not exist. I had to strain to listen to the static-ridden voices squawking at me from the BBC short-wave radio commentary.
But it was enthralling for all that, and I still remember the exhilaration of India’s surprise win over the world champions, the West Indies, late into the night in Singapore.
My blessed father, living in India, video-recorded India’s key matches for me, including every ball of that final, and before too long, a suitcase full of bulky VHS cassettes had arrived, to be shared on a Sunday viewing binge with a similarly cricket-obsessed English friend, a law professor at the Singapore University.
Thus, the defining images of that historic win – Srikanth’s rasping square cut to the boundary, then the crushing disappointment of being bowled out for a mere 183, the seeming certainty of defeat, then Balwinder Sandhu’s extravagant inswinger that bowled the magnificent opener Gordon Greenidge, and Kapil Dev’s incredible running catch, one hand outstretched, to dismiss the legendary Viv Richards just when he seemed to be running away with the match – are all vividly imprinted in my memory, as if I had been there and seen it myself.