Ranga Plays Australia

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Contents Principal Characters Glossary Part 1. It all began in India…

1. Akkithimmanahalli 2. Another English Lesson 3. Some Advice 4. The Big Idea 5. But How? Part 2. Some ideas come forth…

6. Sardarji’s Thoughts 7. Shri Kumar 8. Patel Nanjundappa Part 3. Australian things start to happen…

9. “Niamong”?

10. The Bangalore Club and the Brigadier 11. Ways and Means Part 4. The journey begins…

12. On Tracks 13. Together 14. Leaving India 15. Fish & Ships Part 5. They arrive in Australia…

16. Australia!

17. Melbourne 18. Hallowed Ground Part 6. While up at Niamong…

19. A Lecture 20. Plus Thirteen 21. Descendants Part 7. The Game…

22. Team Two 23. Rules and Ready 24. India Bats 25. Australia Replies 26. Departure Part 8. Back home…

27. Two Friends Score Card Acknowledgements Quiz

Principal Characters (in order of appearance)

Ranganathan Rao Kumar Subhashini Ruchika Harkishen Singh Rao Patel Nanjundappa Bhaktavatsal Brigadier Hill Bandyopadhyay Neville de Mello Sahaj Cockle Melonie Donald Bradman Manjappa Mr Braden Miss Hendley Mrs Phelpps Mr Olney Mr Cross

Gravyhead Scratcher Lissie Pendle Jemmy

a village lad with a big dream Ranga’s English, History, and Geography teacher a girl from Delhi her younger sister Ranga’s guru, originally from the Punjab Ranga’s father; a well-to-do landowner the village head man a respected Bangalore businessman a retired British general; President of the Bangalore Club a respected business man; friend of Brigadier Hill a leading light of All India Radio; a major cricket figure a young cricketer; becomes Ranga’s friend Deputy Purser of the P&O ship Strathnaver Captain of the Strathnaver Kumar’s ‘cousin’; owner of Melbourne’s Indian restaurant Head Teacher of Niamong State School a lovely teacher at Niamong State School an expansive teacher at Niamong State School an Inspector of Schools Niamong’s wealthiest person; President of the Shire Council; owner of the General Store; undertaker a war veteran trouble Dr Pendle’s daughter a farm boy

Glossary Ajja Ajji Anjaneya Amma Appa Brahmin Bund Ceylon Cockies CWA Dhoti Dosa Errol Flynn Gandanthara Ghotokacha Hinduism Kundalini Mother Lalla Naadaswaram Patel Poojary Puttar Quarantine Shanbogue Shri Shrimati Ute Veena

grandfather grandmother the wisest of all mother father in India, a person of high caste; in Australia, a breed of cattle a dam wall Sri Lanka farmers; also sulphur-crested cockatoos Country Women’s Association, willing volunteers for feeding people in an emergency, and other good works a cloth garment worn around the waist slightly fermented rice paste mixed with a type of pulse and fried on a heated plate in a thin circular shape a Hollywood film star, born in Tasmania a problem foreseen by an astrologer, that has to be overcome (also a means for the astrologer to gain some modest additional income) a giant in Indian mythology, with a head like the bottom of a pitcher! a major Indian religion a person’s star chart, for foretelling the future a Kashmiri wise woman of the 14th century a kind of clarinet the village elder or head man a Hindu priest son where animals are locked up away from anywhere for some time to see whether they have a disease the Patel’s accountant Mr Mrs utility vehicle, pick-up, invented in Australia and used for carrying a few sheep or pigs or bales of hay, sometimes kids a musical stringed instrument, very large, held across the folded legs while squatting

Part 1. It all began in India‌

1. Akkithimmanahalli

‘M

y village,’ thought Ranga, which he did whenever he needed to think about something. ‘Akkithim-manahalli. What a wonderful place, with a wonderful name. But how much

more wonderful would it be if it was a more wonderful place!’

He thought a little more, the cooler air in the wall’s shade helping the thinking, as it always did. For so long it had been hot, and dry. Very dry.

Birds everywhere had their beaks open, some with wings held away from their bodies, trying to get cool, and even the mynas had almost stopped talking. The gossiping men sitting on the bench around the high and holy peepal tree had been spending more and more time looking at the sky, searching for those early signs of change, as their fathers and grandfathers had done, while their womenfolk toiled to and from the slowly-drying well.

Rain meant rice, and rice meant food.

‘If Vijay Hazare could visit, especially if he could be accom-panied by Vinoo Mankad!1 Then it would be wonderful heaven! But maybe they would not like the cow dung on our walls.’

Ranga was sitting outside the back door, twiddling his thumbs, especially the right one, which right now was a little itchy. He always thought that his right thumb was the right one because that was his main bowling thumb. And how could a left thumb be a right thumb? It was lucky indeed that he was a right-hander, even though he used his left hand 1

Vijay Hazare, Captain of India and a great batsman; Vinoo Mankad, a famous spin bowler and opening batsman, the first Indian to take 100 wickets and make 1,000 runs in Test matches.

to wind up the old alarm clock in the living room, and to pick mangoes when they were lushly ripe in the garden.

‘And how much more wonderful it would be if they were accompanied

by Donald Bradman! Oh, that would be very wonderful indeed!’

Slowly the light began to dull. Ranga looked up, and saw the first clouds of the long-awaited monsoon fluffing across the sky from the south.

‘Ah, there are going to be some very sticky wickets soon,’ he thought.

‘I’m glad that, at the moment, I am a bowler!’

Dullness quickly turned to almost-darkness, and the higher leaves in the garden started to clap hands. A large rain drop splashed on his left foot, exactly between the big toe and the longest toe - the ones he used to pick up stones with. Then the flood began.

He stood up and moved back a little, into the doorway. He loved the rain, and he didn’t mind getting wet – although his mother might get a little cross.

High above his head the first monsoon rain thundered on the roof, and on the rest of the rooves across the village. It was like a cavalry regiment in the movies, the roar of horses hooves thundering across a vast plain as the turbaned warriors lowered their lances against the ranks of Alexander the Great’s massed Greek soldiers. In fact there was so much thundering going on in Ranga’s mind that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the real thing exploded over his head.

‘Oh, Mother Lalla!’ he exclaimed, ‘that was a close one!’

He put his hand out into the rain to feel the water cooling his skin.

‘This water may have come from the Holy Ganges,’ he thought, ‘or from somewhere even further away, perhaps from the famous Donald Bradman’s country!’

Then he remembered something that his friend and mentor, Harkishen Singh, had said that Saint Mother Lalla had said, about how to become famous: Hold the wind in your fist or tie up an elephant with one hair.

‘I cannot tie up an elephant with one hair, unless it was a giant hair from a giant. But how would I be able to get a hair from a giant? I don’t know any giants…Wait! There’s Ghototkacha, and his mother was a giant, and so on. He will do. But how can I find him – where does he live? Is he in India or in the great Himalaya? Or somewhere else? If I find him, would he be able to hear me, as I am not very big? What if his mother was there and she said that he couldn’t go out? Even if it wasn’t to play.’

Then he thought that it might be easier to catch the wind and hold it, and there was now certainly some wind blowing.

So he tried. But there was a problem. In fact there were two problems.

The first was the rain, which kept falling and filling his palm, and he wasn’t sure if a wet wind counted. The second problem was that, whilst he was sure that he’d caught some wind, when he cupped his two hands together he couldn’t actually feel it, and he couldn’t quite work out how he could be sure that the piece of wind was really there. If he looked, it would blow away, unless it was too wet. If he didn’t look, it would probably just seep out between his fingers, whether it was too wet or not. And should it be called a ‘piece’ of wind, or was there a correct school name for it?

‘I think that it might be easier becoming famous like Donald Bradman than by holding some wind in my fist!’

His right thumb began to itch, which always happened when he thought about being famous.

‘I must ask Harkishen about what Mother Lalla meant. elephants and thumbs. And whether she ever mentioned cricket.’

About

2. Another English Lesson

‘T

oday we are going to have our next English lesson,’ said Kumar.

‘Now, as I have already told you before, English is a very strange language.’ He looked at his class. ‘But we must learn it,

anyway.’

‘But the British Raj has gone, Kumar sir,’ said Ranga.

‘Yes, I know, Rao, gone, but still everywhere. Though it is not always called “British” nowadays. There will always be some kind of Raj in India, whether British or Indian. So that is why we learn English, even though it is a very strange language.’

Everyone sat up, because something strange was something to enjoy.

Especially when Kumar was telling the story.

‘For example, there is the English as it is spoken by the English. I know that you haven’t seen many English people…’

‘Please Kumar sir, I haven’t seen any English people!’ said Badami. ‘I only know that they have to keep out of the sun.’

‘Yes, Badami, that is very true, though I am sure that they can’t help it.

But if you had seen an Englishman I am sure that you would have thought that how they spoke was very strange. And I can tell you that it is spoken in very many different ways! In so many different ways that even many English cannot understand what other English are saying, especially if they come from Scotland.’

‘Please Kumar sir, what is this Scotland?’

‘That is a very good question, Kadam, and it is one, I understand, that is asked by many English. I, myself, have asked many English this same question. But I have never understood their answers, because English, as I have already said, is a very strange language.’

‘Please, sir, then, have you spoken to any Scotlands?’

‘No, Chigateri, they are not called “Scotland”. That is where they live.

A person who lives in Scotland is called “Scottish”. Although I am told that many live in ships that sail the oceans. And many live in other countries.’

‘Please, why do many Scotlands live in other countries?’

‘I don’t know why, Chowti. It is also likely that there are not many Indians in their country. These strange people often wear dresses – the men, as well as the ladies – even into battle!

They are not called

“Scotlands”, Chowti, as I said to Chigateri, but “Scottish”. Or, perhaps, I think, “Scotch”. Although my cousin at the Bangalore Club tells me that Scotch is what the English officers used to drink. Sometimes with a little water, if anyone was looking.’

‘Please, sir…’

‘No, that is quite enough about these people. We are here today for our English lesson.’

Everyone shuffled their books and pencils, wondering how it was possible to drink a Scotch, even with water.

‘And, of course, we must remember that other countries than England and India also speak English.’ He thought a little about this. ‘They have a kind of English that does not always seem to be very clear.

‘For example, an Australian man said to me in the war a very strange word. Look, I will write it on the blackboard.’

He turned around, giving the boys a chance to fidget. Thick white chalk spelt out: “Goodonyamate”.

Everybody

studied

this,

not

thinking

for

one

moment

that

Akkithimmanahalli could also have been regarded as a very strange word.

‘Look at this. You all know the English alphabet now.’ He paused.

‘Though it is not really the English alphabet, it is really the Roman alphabet. But, as Dr Thomas Bulford might have said when I attended his seminar at the University of Mysore on The Influence of Sanskrit on the Development of the English Language in Certain Remote Regions of

North-west India, “Give the English a letter and they will steal the whole alphabet!”’

Nobody was quite sure what stealing had to do with the word on the blackboard, but they respected their teacher’s opinions. And everybody knew that the English were thieves, having stolen India for such a long time.

‘But,’ thought Ranga, ‘they have recently given it back, even though Appa says it was over Churchill’s dead body.’ ‘Yes,’ Appa had gone on, ‘The Prime Minister of England still owes the Bangalore Club thirteen rupees!

That was a lot of money, fifty years ago!’ With all this, Ranga wondered again why they had to learn English, but perhaps Australian was different.

Certainly Donald Bradman was not a thief, except when stealing runs.

Though that was quite all right, except when he was playing India, but that couldn’t be helped, as Donald Bradman was certainly Donald Bradman.

‘Yes, I was puzzled, too,’ said Kumar, ‘when I heard this very strange word. Would someone like to try to say it for us?’

Everybody looked down at their slates, thinking about Vijay Hazare and Vinoo Mankad, or wondering why an Australian cricket player would use such a word.

‘Come on!’

He looked around the room, searching vainly for an

upraised hand attached to an upraised arm. ‘Very well Shivanna, you may try first!’

Shivanna looked up, a little startled, because he was usually asked last.

‘Is it the name of the Prime Minister of Ceylon?’

Shivanna would go to university one day.

‘No, Shivanna, it isn’t, but that is a very good guess! Although I don’t think anyone knows who is the Prime Minister of Ceylon, as this has only just happened. What about you, Ranga?’

Ranga wasn’t too keen, having to follow on from Shivanna, without having a first innings at all. He fidgeted a bit, and scratched both his thumbs, one after the other, as he couldn’t scratch them both at the same

time. Is it “Good…oh…n’ya…mahtay”, he said. Which certainly sounded like the Prime Minister of Ceylon. Or even the President. Or perhaps his great aunt.

‘That is a very good attempt, Ranga, but not quite right. I don’t think that an Australian would understand you!’

Ranga decided to pay more attention, because Donald Bradman was an Australian.

‘Very well, then, I shall ask Murthi. Murthi, how do you think this very strange word should be said?’

‘I think…I think that…“Goodo-ny-am-ate”, he said, rushing the bits out as quickly as he could.

‘Ah, well, we could go on like this for a long time, even until the monkeys learn to behave, so I shall tell you. The Australian said to me “Good-on-ya (which means ‘you’)-mate”! And I asked him if that was what they said in Australia, and he said that it was, and that they even said a lot of other things there. And what does this strange word mean? Well, it is really four words, and it means “Well done, my friend”.

You must

remember that word, because one day you might meet an Australian, or even go to Australia, and it will be very good to know their language of English.’

Everyone began to practise, especially Ranga, because he suddenly had an idea.

India, Australia, cricket – what more can you ask for? And there’s also a great man, a great ship, a great stadium (two, in fact), a great guru (not sure whether that’s a good thing), and, perhaps, a bit of romance.

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