Nineteen hundred and eighty-three might have been just another unmemorable year for India. The monsoons were good and the Congress government, in the time-tested manner, took credit for it. There was communal violence in Punjab and Assam. The former would lead to the assassination of Indira Gandhi, who was prime minister then. She was head of the Non Aligned Movement and host of the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meet - talking shops invested with great prestige in a country whose influence in world politics was negligible. The year was unmemorable, but for one event that changed sport, changed cricket, and changed the way middle-class Indians saw themselves.
In the half-century since India had made their Test debut - on June 25, 1932, on the same date and at the same venue where they would lift the World Cup in 1983 - the maharajahs and the nawabs had gone, to be replaced by college-educated Brahmins, the backbone of the middle class. But already the next phase was beginning to reveal itself. The inspirational captain of the World Cup-winning team, Kapil Dev, was neither college-educated nor Brahmin. A generation or so later, Mahatma Gandhi's India, the one that lives in the villages, would push into the background Nehru's India of the cities, and international players would emerge from Najafgarh, Rae Bareilly, Bharuch, Palarivattom, Aligarh, Jalandhar and Ranchi.
Before the World Cup, India had played only 40 one-day internationals in the decade or so that the format had been around. "We didn't take the game seriously," said India's first ODI captain, Ajit Wadekar, "We had no idea of field placings or tactics." India refused to see the shorter game as a legitimate version of cricket. Brijesh Patel, top scorer in India's debut match against England at Leeds in 1974 said later, "I thought this was the future." But his colleagues behaved as if one-day cricket was a pimple on the face of real cricket, one that would disappear quickly.
This attitude was exemplified by India's best batsman, Sunil Gavaskar. In the 1975 World Cup (60 overs a side), after England had made 334 for 4, he batted through the innings to remain not out on 36. Had he been dropped from the team then, or had he voluntarily pulled out, India's approach in the early years might have been different. His attitude affected the team, the officials, the media. Supporting the one-day game was seen as a sell-out.
Yet, ironically, it was Gavaskar who played the most significant innings in the pre-1983 era; one that was to fill the team with self-belief, and lead to India's most important victory before the World Cup.
In the previous season, the Indian selectors had made one of those inspired moves for which they were criticised at the time but which shone like a beacon of common sense in hindsight. They named Kapil Dev captain of the one-day side. Under Kapil, India beat Sri Lanka 3-0, and lost to Pakistan 1-3, but the nucleus of a team took shape. It was a team built on the dual skills of the allrounder, and a team that understood the importance of the medium-pacer. In the 1970s, spinners like Bishan Bedi and Srinivas Venkatraghavan had focused on claiming wickets; now the medium-pacers borrowed from England's strategy and concentrated on keeping the runs down. In those two series Kapil was assisted by Madan Lal, Mohinder Amarnath, Balwinder Sandhu, Roger Binny and Sandip Patil. It was the attack that won them the World Cup.
On March 29, with the World Cup 72 days away, India beat twice champions West Indies in Berbice, Guyana. Gavaskar made his first 50 in 52 balls before falling for 90. Kapil Dev made 72 off 38 balls and India 282 for 5 in 47 overs. Madan Lal dismissed Viv Richards for 64, and Ravi Shastri had three wickets as the West Indies finished with 255 to lose by 27 runs. But the statistics of that win were not as important as the impact it had on a team that thought the essence of one-day cricket was simply to turn up and go through the motions.
When Kapil Dev led against West Indies in India's opening match of the 1983 World Cup, bookmakers' odds on India were 66-1. But this was a different team psychologically. It was a team that was confident under a 24-year-old captain who was almost un-Indian in his self-assurance. Seven of the players in the final were in their twenties. There had been no conscious call to youth, but just over a year after that win, India's youngest prime minister, Rajiv Gandhi, took office. This was a new awakening, a reappraisal of long-held beliefs.
Only two people believed India could beat the odds. Former Australian captain Kim Hughes, who thought India were "dark horses", and the late Sunder Rajan, who writing in the Times of India predicted an Indian win. Neither had much to go by. India had lost a match at the previous World Cup to Sri Lanka, then not yet a Test-playing country, and their only victory had been against East Africa.
Now they brought to fruition the theory prevailing at the time: pack the team with allrounders, rely on the batsmen getting the runs, and then leave it to the bowlers to be restrictive rather than attacking.
The story of the 1983 World Cup is part of our collective consciousness. India began with a win, against West Indies, so clearly Berbice was no fluke. Kapil Dev's incredible 175 helped overcome Zimbabwe after India were 17 for 5 at one stage. That was the turning point of the tournament. India had lost to West Indies and Australia before that; now they sailed through without another defeat, beating Australia and England before meeting West Indies for the third time, now in the final.
While the team was creating upsets in England, the fans back home were transfixed in their drawing rooms, before shop windows, in offices, clubs and anywhere a television could be accommodated. Colour TV had come to India the previous year with the Asian Games in Delhi. Suddenly it all came together - television and live telecast from distant fields, an audience hungry for action, a significant victory, and the awareness of the marketing possibilities - and the first steps towards India's domination of world cricket were taken. Among those who had tuned in was future India captain Rahul Dravid, then ten years old. "I remember watching that final in Bangalore," he recalled. "That win inspired a lot of young kids to take to the game."
The pictures have been played over and over on television channels and in our minds. Krishnamachari Srikkanth square-driving Andy Roberts for four; Srikkanth taking a single running backwards in sheer exuberance; Balwinder Sandhu clean-bowling Gordon Greenidge, who had let the ball go; Kapil Dev running to catch Viv Richards over his shoulder after Richards had threatened to take the game away; Mohinder Amarnath bowling his friendly medium pace and then shyly walking up to receive his Man of the Match award; Kapil Dev handing over the World Cup to Amarnath; a bunch of unknowns, fans from India, grinning stupidly on the Indian balcony.
Colour TV had come to India the previous year with the Asian Games in Delhi. Suddenly it all came together - television and live telecast from distant fields, an audience hungry for action, a significant victory, and the awareness of the marketing possibilities - and the first steps towards India's domination of world cricket were taken
India kept the momentum of the World Cup going for a good while, winning the World Championship of Cricket in Australia in 1985.
From no-hopers to world champions is a huge leap, and led by Kapil Dev, India took it almost casually. Soon they won the Asia Cup in Sharjah and the World Championship of Cricket in Australia. But that was only the immediate fallout. Just as the players made that huge leap, so too did the fans (and the BCCI). One-day cricket went from being dog's dinner to emperor's feast. There's nothing like an international victory to ease the path towards acceptance. History was merely repeating itself with the win in the World Twenty20 last year.
India's one-day history can be divided into three phases. From their debut till the Berbice match in 1983 was a period of adjustment psychologically and physically. India relied on the established Test players to "play their normal game" and hoped for the best.
The second phase, from Berbice till the end of the Hero Cup tournament in 1993, was the Kapil Dev era. Kapil pulled India out of their lethargy, showed what was possible, and inspired the World Cup victory. India played the best teams on equal terms.
The third phase, the Sachin Tendulkar era, began the following year with two important developments. Tendulkar opened the batting for the first time, in New Zealand, and later made his first century, in Sri Lanka, in his 79th match.
But 1983 was the turning point. Soon the World Cup moved out of England. Within a decade England and Australia lost their veto power, and after the second World Cup in the subcontinent, Jagmohan Dalmiya became the president of the ICC.
When, having made 33 in 28 balls Viv Richards lofted Madan Lal in that 1983 final, the cricket world stood still. Kapil Dev took the most significant catch in India's history. From that moment, the world rearranged itself so India would emerge as the game's superpower. Cricket would never be the same again.
Eighty-three once more
India's road to victory
* June 9/10: India 262 for 8 (60/60 ov) beat West Indies 228 (54.1/60 ov) by 34 runs. Yashpal Sharma 89, Binny 3-48, Shastri 3-26
* June 11: India 157 for 5 (37.3/60 ov) beat Zimbabwe 155 (51.4/60 ov) by five wickets. Patil 50, Madan Lal 3-27
* June 13: Australia 320 for 9 (60/60 ov) beat India 158 (37.5/60 ov) by 162 runs. Trevor Chappell 110, Yallop 66*, Hughes 52, MacLeay 6-39
* June 15: West Indies 282 for 9 (60/60 ov) beat India 216 (53.1/60 ov) by 66 runs. Richards 119, Srikkanth 80, Holding 3-40, Binny 3-71
* June 18: India 266 for 8 (60/60 ov) beat Zimbabwe 235 (57/60 ov) by 31 runs. Kapil 175*, Madan Lal 3-42
* June 20: India 247 (55.5/60 ov) beat Australia 129 (38.2/60 ov) by 118 runs. Madan Lal 4-20, Binny 4-29
* June 22: India 217 for 4 (54.4/60 ov) beat England 213 (60/60 ov) by six wickets. Yashpal 61, Patil 51*, Kapil 3-35
* June 25: India 183 for 4 (54.4/60 ov) beat West Indies 140 (52/60 ov) by 43 runs. Amarnath 3-12, Madan Lal 3-31
Show me a person who gave Kapil Dev's team any chance of winning the 1983 World Cup: I will show you a liar and an opportunist.
The story of how David Frith, then editor of Wisden Cricket Monthly, had to literally eat his words after he wrote India off as no-hopers has been told far too often to be repeated here, yet is symbolic of the utter disdain with which the Indian cricket team was viewed before the tournament. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, the situation was "hopeless, but not serious."
My own belief in the Indian team's prospects, too, tended towards zero. True, there had been some glimpses of excellence when Kapil Dev's team beat mighty West Indies at Berbice in a one day game preceding the 1983 tournament, but India's track record in one-day cricket, and especially in the two previous World Cups, had been pathetic to say the least.
So while I was obviously privileged to be covering a World Cup, on the nine-hour flight to England in May 1983, two issues jostled for pole position in my mind: Did I really want give up law practice to pursue writing on cricket as a vocation? And secondly, did it make any sense to watch India play West Indies at Old Trafford first up when I could watch England play New Zealand at the Oval?
By the time the plane landed at Heathrow, at least one issue had been resolved. The Oval it would be. This decision was not, as might be misconstrued, based on the kind of cynicism journalists are known to acquire over a period of time. I was on only my second overseas assignment, un-jaded and curious, but frankly, what logic in watching India play the best team in the world?
I have lived to regret that decision. Watching the classy, elegant Martin Crowe was a delightful experience in itself, but not seeing India floor the mighty West Indies was such a bad miss that I was immediately chastened.
The topsy-turvy nature of sport is something only the foolhardy would ignore. This lesson had been painfully learnt. For the next month and more, I followed the Indian team diligently across the length and breadth of the country, spending long hours on British Rail, making scores of trips on the London Underground, as the World Cup wound its way through that magnificent summer. The budget was modest, the travel itinerary intense but the experience was unbeatable - and there other attractions an English summer offers, like catching a concert by Dire Straits at Earl's Court.
Thatcherism was taking firm control of political and economic life in England in the early 80s, and Prime Minister and "Iron Lady" Margaret Thatcher was the undisputed Queen Bee. Only occasionally was she forced to share centre-stage with US president Ronald Reagan. In that sense, even the World Cup enjoyed miniscule importance, but for those weaned on cricket lore, England was still a dream come true.
The grounds of Sussex spoke of the exploits of Ranji, and the two Pataudis, apart, of course, from CB Fry. At Lord's, passing through the Grace Gates was like a pilgrimage in itself, though the good doctor himself was from Gloucestershire. But my personal favourite as a diehard Surrey fan was The Oval, home to Jack Hobbs, the Bedsers, and my childhood hero, Ken Barrington.
The World Cup carousel took me to most of these historic grounds. When no matches were scheduled, I made day trips to soak in the history and nostalgia. Through the tournament I stayed at Surbiton, a few stops from Wimbledon. My host was a young engineer I knew from Bombay, who was on a work permit and who knew everything about cricket, tennis - indeed all the sport played in England. "For a sports buff, there is no place like this," he would say. Oh, to be in England that summer!
There were only six journalists (if I remember correctly) from India. The explosion in the Indian media, with its din, clamour and suffocating competition to grab soundbites, was nearly two decades away. In 1983 there was still easy access to players and the dressing room.
I remember watching Dilip Vengsarkar get hit on the face by Malcolm Marshall from the dressing room. There was a flurry of abuse when the batsman returned retired hurt, and not from Vengsarkar, poor chap, who could barely open his mouth. When India played Zimbabwe in the historic match at Tunbridge Wells, I watched a fair bit of Kapil Dev's memorable innings, sitting next to Gundappa Viswanath, from just outside the dressing room. Vishy, who hadn't yet retired, had failed to regain his place after the disastrous tour of Pakistan, but was still an integral member of the Indian team.
He was also the main source of hope, I realised, as the team tottered. When India were 9 for 4, he was to say with a sense of righteous belief, "Don't worry, the match is not over yet." He must have been the only man then to believe this. Talk of prophetic words.
As the tournament progressed, the small media corps became almost like an extended family of the team, but this did not mean we did not look for "controversies". The composition of the team showed a distinct north-west divide so to speak, and anybody who knows anything of Indian cricket knows how much these things mattered in those days. Did it influence Kapil Dev? More importantly, was Sunil Gavaskar dropped for the first match against Australia, or "rested", as manager PR Man Singh insisted?
All such doubts died by the time Kapil Dev had finished his business at Tunbridge Wells. Gavaskar was back in the team, despite his mediocre form; Vengsarkar was still out of contention through injury; but by a process of trial and exigency India had hit on the right combination.
The academically inclined are still locked in endless debate about which has been the greatest ever one-day innings. In my mind there is no doubt that Kapil Dev's unbeaten 175 that day stands supreme. There have been bigger scores since, innings with more sixes and boundaries hit, runs scored at a faster rate, but for sheer magnitude of impact (in a myriad ways) nothing quite matches up to Kapil's innings. It not only helped India win victory from the jaws of defeat, but also dramatically altered the course of the tournament, and subsequently, the future of Indian and world cricket.
In the context of the tournament, this innings was to be a rallying cry from a field-marshal to his troops, as it were. Remember, Kapil was in his first season as captain, having taken over from Gavaskar after the rout against Pakistan a few months earlier. This change had been contentious.
Moreover, India had come into the World Cup on the back of a series defeat against the West Indies, and there were muted discussions on Kapil's future as leader even before the tournament began. The pressure on him was to not only justify his reputation as one of the game's greatest allrounders, but also to hold his team together, and thereby hold on to his captaincy.
Examine the scorebook and you find that India's performances till then had been modest -- despite the first-match win over the West Indies - and not at all indicative of the heady climax that was to follow. There had been a couple of exciting 50s, some of the swing bowlers like Roger Binny and Madan Lal were enjoying the helpful conditions, and the fielding was much improved by traditional Indian standards. But nothing to suggest that this was a world-beating side.
The next week flew past in a flurry of wins, banter and laughter as India knocked over Australia and England to earn a place in the final against the world champions. This was surreal stuff from a side which had now forged such enormous self-belief as to become unstoppable.
Australia were a team in disarray, with Greg Chappell not available, and unconfirmed reports suggesting massive infighting between some of the senior pros and skipper Kim Hughes. Having lost their first game, against Zimbabwe, the Aussies were on the back foot when they met India at Chelmsford. As it happened, neither Dennis Lillee nor Hughes played that game, and the result was a massive defeat which was to culminate in Hughes surrendering the captaincy in tears a year later.
The two semi-finals involved India and Pakistan. Could it be a dream final between the two arch rivals from the subcontinent? It was not to be, as Pakistan lost badly to West Indies. With Imran Khan unable to bowl, Pakistan relied heavily on their batting, but in this crucial match missed Javed Miandad who reported unwell. I happened to meet Miandad in his hotel room on the eve of the match. He was obviously suffering from influenza. I wondered, though, if he could miss such an important game; he did and that was that.
On the same day, India's players marched to Old Trafford like born-again gladiators, bristling for the kill. It was a surcharged atmosphere, and by the time the match ended in a flurry of boundaries by Sandeep Patil off the hapless Bob Willis, many fights had broken out between the fans of the two sides all over the ground. One placard captured the Indian performance and the result of the match tellingly: "Kapil Dev eats Ian Botham for breakfast".
So incredible had been India's run of success and such was the disbelief that even the stiff stewards who manned the Grace Gates were completely nonplussed. "Oh, we now have Gandhi coming to Lord's," said one to his colleague in an obvious reference to Sir Richard Attenborough's memorable film on the Mahatma when a few of us landed up to demand accreditation for the final. After some haggling, we were not to be denied accreditation for the match.
On June 25, India took the field against the West Indies, and within a seven-hour roller-coaster ride, the cricket world had been turned upside down, a billion lives changed forever.
At a personal level, the second issue which had dogged my flight into England had been resolved too: the law degree would find its place on the mantelpiece; writing on cricket was to be my lifeline.
TURNING POINTS FOR INDIA IN 83 WORLD CUP:- That catch, that inswinger
India were booked at 66:1 before the 1983 World Cup started. Then they beat West Indies, overcame a hiccup against Zimbabwe, brushed aside Australia, and beat England in the semi-final to set up a final against the two-time defending champions. Having lost the toss, India batted first, making 183, and that paltry score turned out to be a winning one as West Indies collapsed for 140, the greatest upset in the history of the World Cup. Cricinfo picks out five crucial moments from the final.
Kris Srikkanth gets stuck into Andy Roberts, and all of India goes hush.
Srikkanth drives Roberts
India only made 183 after being put in to bat, and it would not have been enough had Kris Srikkanth not played the way he did. Joel Garner bowled a resplendently fiery opening spell, moving the ball back in exaggeratedly, beating Sunil Gavaskar four times in an over, and yet somehow not managing a wicket.
Andy Roberts got rid of Gavaskar for 2 but Srikkanth showed his intent by smashing a short ball to the ropes, to much cheering from the packed house. "That was Andy's slower bouncer," said the English commentator. "He's just setting him up." Roberts did indeed then release a more vicious bouncer, but Srikkanth hooked it for six into the lower tier of the Warner Stand.
Yet the shot most popularly acknowledged by those who watched it - and recalled reverently - was the stunning square-drive, on bent knee, that Srikkanth played off Roberts to the Tavern boundary. All of India stood to applaud. They would have loved his innings to last longer than 38, with seven fours a ferociously-hooked six, but those 82 minutes and 57 balls were crucial in forming, ultimately, a winning total.
Greenidge shoulders arms to Sandhu
Balwinder Singh Sandhu, an ideal foil to Kapil Dev with the new ball, will always be remembered for one delivery: that inswinger to Gordon Greenidge. In a fatal misjudgment Greenidge, then at the halfway mark of a legendary career, chose to shoulder arms to one that proceeded to swing in alarmingly and clip the top of off stump. It will go down as one of the silliest non-shots ever, and it provided the much-needed breakthrough India needed, starting the most dramatic slide in World Cup history.
Kapil catches Richards
Undoubtedly the moment that won India the World Cup. West Indies had been dented by the loss of Greenidge but, at 5 for 1 chasing 184 in 60 overs, there was little pressure on Viv Richards when he strode out, chewing his gum. And so Richards set about his task as only he knew - by attacking. On 33 from 27 balls, having just taken three boundaries in succession, he pulled a good-length ball from Madan Lal that pitched just short on off stump.
As the ball spiralled off the top part of the bat, up high beyond midwicket - for a second illuminated against the sea-blue sky - and swirled down, a fielder came sprinting across the turf from mid-on, graceful as a gazelle, legs pumping, corners of his mouth betraying a smile, eyes fixed firmly on the ball as it fell against the blur of 24,609 spectators transfixed in rapt attention. Kapil was in an awkward position - head turned over his right shoulder, ball dipping ahead of him, but he was never unsure of getting Richards. And then he did it, holding on to the ball with two hands, a picture of elegant and extreme athleticism and divine confidence. Lord's cheered raucously but it was a whimper against the tumultuous din that erupted continents away. Richards swaggered out as he had entered, still chewing his cud, and vanished over the boundary line.
Kapil's magic grab: the catch that won a World Cup.
Lloyd falls
Madan Lal struck twice more after Richards' dismissal, removing Desmond Haynes and Larry Gomes, to leave West Indies in further trouble. They still had their captain, Clive Lloyd - Big C, to the Guyanese - but there was to be no repeat of his wonderful century in the first ever World Cup final at Lord's eight years before. Trying to drive Roger Binny over the infield - a poor shot given the situation - he found Kapil at wide mid-off. That made it 66 for 5. Three wickets had fallen for just six runs in 19 deliveries and West Indies were well and truly snuffed out.
At this point, noted David Frith in his Wisden report, "Down by the Tavern two bloodstained policemen carted off a Rasta who had departed from the peaceful stance, while a policewoman lost her cap, her smooth hairdo, but not her composure. Lord's was seeing, for the first time, West Indies in real adversity."
Amarnath gets Dujon
Syed Kirmani's diving catch, in front of Gavaskar at slip, to get rid of Faoud Bacchus earns brownie points but this wicket just pips it. Dujon had batted superbly for his 25, the second-highest score of the West Indian innings, and had put on 43 with Malcolm Marshall. That's when Mohinder Amarnath, jogging in, almost humming a Hindi film tune, hiding the ball deceptively, landed it on the seam and extracted extra bounce. Dujon inched forward and then tried to leave - except the ball kissed his gloves and crashed onto the base of off stump. Amarnath broke into celebration and pumped his fists in the air, flashing a boyish grin. He would take two more wickets to cap a Man-of-the-Final day, including the famous tenth wicket, but this was the biggest of his strikes.
