Once there was a Delhi winter, now we have a mask

In 1983, I saw a Test Match for the first time at a stadium. The day was made even more special by Sunil Gavaskar slamming the feared West Indian pace quartet to all parts of the ground. Just as many of us were thinking that the picnic had ended too soon, the teachers in charge of the school outing decided to extend the trip and celebrate the Little Master’s record-breaking century by treating us to goodies at Wenger’s. We sang loudly, mostly out of tune, during the short ride from the Ferozeshah Kotla, as Delhi’s main cricket venue was then called, to Connaught Place, not yet Rajiv Chowk. Diwali was barely two days away, and winter was around the corner. Little did we realise then that in times to come, the excursion would turn out to be precious for something much more than Gavaskar’s fe