Doesn't the Cup cheer anymore?

As I made my way towards the Board of Control for Cricket in India's head office in Churchgate, Mumbai, where the replica of the Prudential Cup, the 1983 World Cup trophy, is housed, my mind was awash with a range of emotions, of awe, of excitement, of fear -- yes fear too -- mixed with apprehension.

Would it be like the Lord's museum?

Would the trophy be housed in a special, temperature controlled setting?

Or was I just aiming a bit too high?

My thoughts were instantly drawn towards a day I had spent at the Prince of Wales museum. An ancient artifact was studded into the wall -- no glass casing, no temperature control, nothing of the sort. The people had just gone ahead and made the artifact part of the wall. It was in this frame of mind that I entered the BCCI office.

The BCCI office had four visible rooms, pretty ordinary to look at, not corporate but more like the government offices one is used to seeing. A wooden cabinet that housed all the trophies dominated the main room where all the officials were going about with their work. It was in a state of partial decay, the polish had begun to wear off and the entire structure seemed to be creaking under the weight of all the silverware, around 60 to be precise. The layers of dust bore testimony to the fact that there had not been too many visitors in recent times.

The Ranji trophy, India's biggest domestic prize, The Duleep trophy, for the best team in one-day competitions and many more. International as well as domestic trophies of all sizes and shapes kept together in the same cabinet.

A few were being polished, others stood alone in their splendour and all of them -- all reminders of famous moments in history. The Hero cup of 1994 was there too -- visions of Sachin Tendulkar's brilliant last over against South Africa, in which he bewildered Allan Donald, flashed before my eyes.

And among them was the grand daddy of them all. The Prudential Cup, dwarfed by the Ranji Trophy. It has a pride of place in every Indian's cricket fans heart.

Seeing the trophy right in front of my eyes, I felt a sense of elation, of unbounded joy. Pictures of the trophy have been splashed in magazines and on television for quite a few years but now I was actually holding it. Something most people will give a lifetime to do.

As I took the trophy out of the cabinet, I realized that it did not weigh too much but my hands still trembled slightly. Was it excitement or fear? I will never know but the palpitations of my heart increased considerably. Any member of the public can go and relive those glorious memories but I wonder how many know they can.

But

the joy was tinged with sadness.

Cricket, as it is oft said, is a religion in India. If that is true then the Prudential Cup is the idol we all pay homage to.

Almost two decades back, on 25th June 1983, India won this Cup, a win that catapulted the nation among the big guns of international cricket and captured the imagination of the people. India's performance in the 1975 and 1979 World Cups had been pathetic to say the least and this win was a bolt from the blue.

The World Cup win inspired a generation of Indians to take up the sport.

Just as the proof of the pudding is in eating it, the proofs of our triumphs are these trophies. The BCCI is arguably the richest cricket board in the world. They earn enormous amounts of money through endorsements and television contracts yet they have not made arrangements to showcase our most valuable cricketing posession properly. One room is all these trophies would need, but perhaps that is beyond the BCCI.

After all, how difficult would it be to appoint a person to take care of these trophies? It was a shame to see them huddled in a corner when they command a place in Indian history by right. They deserve to be housed in a museum where the common man can come and see them but the BCCI is perhaps too busy making money to be bothered about such petty matters.

 In August 2000, The BCCI had come out with 'The Vision statement', promising the establishment of cricket museums, I wonder what happened to all those promises.

My memories of the 1983 final are quite dim. I was young, a boy of four. But over the years, I have watched and relived that moment, unique to India. It was the realisation of a cherished dream. Kapil Dev's catch, where he ran back, around 30 yards, to dismiss Vivian Richards; Mohinder Amarnath's swaying run to the wicket; Dujon's expression of disgust, when he played on to his stumps and more such incidents are now part of cricketing folklore. The players are now legends in their own right and the trophy is as much part of the legend as they are.

Somehow, the entire scenario, reminded me of the step-motherly treatment meted out to our athletes. Many who win medals at international events are promptly forgotten by the powers-that-be. The past may hold no mysteries but there is a lot we can learn from it.

The sight of the trophy swelled my pride and the realization dawned that our cricketers do not have to look too far for inspiration.

But is this how we value our triumphs?

Is this how we want to look back at them?

Images: Jewella Miranda