India will beat you, eventually

Often before the team does, but rise-up - you can buy clothes cheaper than laundring them and, besides, do we need clothes in Gujarat?

    This might be the column to skip, take a deep breath and a day off. But so many readers have kindly taken the time to tell me how much they have enjoyed the daily updates the least I can do is tell them why there isn’t one today.

    For decades my Indian colleagues have famously done all they could to arrive in Ahmedabad as late as possible and leave as soon as possible. It is not their favourite venue. One of the perks of moving up the cricket-writing ladder is that editors understand you may not be available for the Ahmedabad fixtures.

    Why, my friends asked, was the decision made to spend five days in the city for a meaningless match against Afghanistan when at least three of them could have been happily spent remaining in Kolkata? It is a very good question.

    There are many travel scenarios to fear in this country. Most common used to be the stomach bug causing the multi-orifice, projectile expulsion of bodily fluids. It was often believed to be caused by ‘the water’ but, just as often, it was over-used cooking oil. But hygiene standards have improved enormously and that rarely happens these days, provided you’re not careless.    

    More of a worry is falling foul of the nation’s manic obsession with bureaucracy, process and red tape. Follow the rules to the finest letter and hope for the best. Pack your bags with the greatest care and hope you don’t encounter a pedantic man in uniform on a bad day. This I have done.

And my checked-in bag never left Kolkata. Finally, a man from SpiceJet approached me as I stared in terror at the empty luggage carousel. Half an hour later, when he finally got someone to pick up the phone in Kolkata, he told me his colleagues believed their scanner had detected something prohibited – “perhaps a lighter” – in the bag. The contents of the bag have not changed for seven domestic flights so far.

    So here I sit, in the easily the grubbiest hotel room of the tour so far, in the shorts and t-shirt I set out in. I was required to sign a form permitting whoever in Kolkata to cut the lock off my bag and hunt for the offending item. It ‘may’ then be put on a plane tomorrow. I must return to the airport tomorrow evening where I may be able to collect it, or maybe not.

    It often feels like India is testing your resolve on a daily basis, probing for the breaking point with a constant stress-test. Might they have told me about the scanner before I left? No, that would have been considerate.

    There was a certain irony in the name of the building next door to this one, in which the ‘hotel’ occupies the third floor consisting of eight, very small rooms with dirty walls and sheets with the unmistakeable feel and odour of other bodies.

    You almost got me today, India. Gujarat, of course, wasn’t able to offer me a beer to take the edge off the day but, if you are kind enough to return my bag, I’ll be back. And I promise never, ever to travel again with whatever it is that has upset you.