As It Was: The Memoirs of Fred Trueman by Trueman Fred

Author:Trueman, Fred [Trueman, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL

I spent part of the winter of 1956-7 playing in India. I had been picked to play for what today we would call England ‘A’, who were touring to commemorate the Silver Jubilee of the Bengal Cricket Association. It was my first visit to India and, like so many before me and since, I was struck by the sheer size and diversity of a country that can boast newspapers printed in nigh-on a hundred different languages or dialects.

There is extreme poverty and deprivation in India today, but in the fifties it was even more pronounced. As a cricketer I was staying in what passed for the best hotels. I travelled to and from games either by car or coach, but some of the sights I saw on those short trips were an eye-opener - I had never seen such squalor and it came as a real cultural shock. Whilst there is still abject poverty and suffering in India today, thankfully they have not been beset by the famines of the fifties and sixties.

Regarding the cricket, I took 8 wickets in two matches on wickets that were so dry and dusty David Lean could have filmed Lawrence of Arabia on them. I even top-scored in one innings, coming in at number ten and giving the bat the benefit of some fresh air to finish on 46 not out. Whilst ever mindful that the hotels I stayed in were a world away from the lifestyle many Indian people were subjected to, they were not what I was used to. The rooms were basic, sometimes a cast-iron bed, and in those days especially, you had to be very careful about what you consumed in the way of food and water. Those who had toured India before told mind-numbing stories of various intestinal tempests, described as ‘Delhi Belly’, ‘Bombay Spray’, ‘The Madras Pebbledash’ and ‘Calcutta Splutter’. Teams did not have personal chefs or dieticians; the emphasis on what should or should not be eaten or drunk lay firmly with individual players. Away from cricket the players were encouraged to stay in the hotel. There was no TV or radio in some hotels, so it made for some very boring evenings. One hotel I stayed at had extensive gardens. Our guide informed us we were welcome to walk around these gardens but that we should be very alert about coming across a certain type of snake.

‘This snake is easily recognized,’ the guide informed us. ‘It is vivid lime-green in colour and about twelve inches in length. Should you come across one, under no circumstances should you approach it. Inform the authorities. Because if this snake were to bite a man, so poisonous is it, he would be dead within thirty seconds.’

After three days in that hotel, I was on the point of going out and looking for the buggers.

The tedium of hotel living apart, India was a fantastic experience. The sheer diversity of the country is mind-boggling. There is a vibrancy and verve to India that, to this day, I have not experienced anywhere else.

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