The final day and last supper

The smart money was on us being back in the hotel for lunch but after losing by an innings and 36 runs in 38 minutes we could have made it a late breakfast! Excuses have been made that we do not face spin of this quality back home, that India are a tremendous Test team but this does not explain how cheaply wickets were given away. It exposed a perennial weakness of England Test cricket, the inability to win 2 consecutive sessions and thereby to impose themselves on the game. They won the first morning of the first day but none of the remaining 9. I had the impression that the team could not wait to get poolside with their partners. Over breakfast on the first day I saw Chris Woakes attending to his baby. He seemed a nice enough bloke but looking on he gave very appearance of being on a family holiday not about to play for his country in one one of the most testing arenas against a formidable team. The team seemed pampered – it was their wish to be back for Xmas which led to a compacted 7 tests with India and Bangladesh. Selection too was poor: Balance, Duckett and Batty were ‘shot’. It seems likely that Dawson will play in Chennai and one of the few positive benefits of this tour is the development of young colts like Hameed and Jennings into potential Test thoroughbreds. Cook’s captaincy is uninspiring and it might be time now to pass that onto Joe Root. I felt most sorry for the England fans trudging back in the heat after an abject defeat and lost series. Perhaps their expectations were low but much money was spent to watch a humiliation.

We had our last supper at Vishna, a fish restaurant. The atmosphere was lively but I for one did not feel like partying. The menu was decided in advance and served rather too quickly. I found myself reflecting on India. I did not find the country the spiritual experience of which some friends spoke nor feel a burning desire to return. The cities are dirty, air quality awful, the poverty abject and you will almost certainly succumb to some sort of gastric disorder. The food is uniformly hot and spicy which is not always what your fancy in the heat nor with a dicky tummy. Against this the Indian people are cheerful, positive and make the most of the little they have. In the afternoon I toyed with a mini walking tour of my own. However I did better. Alice Mansfield had recommended Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, a elegiac novel narrated  by an Australian convict on the run. It is set mainly in Mumbai and has the most evocative descriptions of its low and criminal life, far better than anything I could convey. The narrator highlights above all the sense of freedom and liberation that the Indian city dwellers have, that their poverty – far from constraining them – actually frees them up in the similar way that western consumers speak of downgrading and getting rid of possessions for a freer life style. This is the magic of India that attracts the traveller .