A corner of a foreign field..

If I should die, think only this of me;
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England.

These lines from Robert Brooke's iconic poem written at the beginning of the Great War are often reserved by the spirited Barmy Army—and treated equally as a sacrament by English rugby fans—for a win in the quadrennial Ashes away-series against the Australians. It's one of the many great traditions that have come to be associated with cricket, and I have a suspicion that the Poms (the few classy English cricket commentators that are still left, that is) take particular delight in using it. However, on the night of the final day of play at the Jamtha in Nagpur, I came across an interesting twitter post by a member of the Barmy Army with the same lines from 'The Soldier'. I was surprised at the literary prowess of one of whom I derided as a a beer guzzling bunch of wankers, and, more gravely, at the significance the English attached to what had occurred that day. As I smiled to myself at being able to recognize the reference (it doesn't happen too often, believe me), I couldn't help but think with despondency of the ignominy that had been inflicted on my national side over the past year-and-a-half. 

Not since Mike Gatting's heroics in 1984-85 had the English won a test-series in India; which was perhaps the reason for the said English fan using the hallowed lines. In the eyes of this keen historian of Indian cricket, there hasn't been a worse phase since we made our debut in 1932. It took us a while to register our first win, but, we played decent, and even, memorable cricket. In Sir Don's own words, "the Indians (of those days) had some spirit". The period starting with the away series in England in 2011 to the current limited-overs loss to Pakistan has seen the side mark a new nadir of mediocrity. Never before have we lost more than five test matches in a row. Yes, we don't have an enviable history abroad, but then our sole goal pre-1983 was to draw, not to win, and we achieved that with significant success. But it is not my intention to present facts alone; I'm confident that anyone who is bored enough to read this has probably already apprised himself/herself (yes, I do expect a couple of intransigent no-gooders that like to call themselves feminists to read this) of our pathetic record the past few years. Not only did we get wiped out against both England and Australia, we put up some of the worst, and the least aesthetic performances in history.

I haven't been here for long, but if there's one thing that's provided me succour in our losses abroad, it's the solid performance of the bulwark that was once the Indian middle order. There is no doubt in my mind that whatever test success we've achieved abroad over the past decade is because of two men: Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman—message me asking why I don’t include Tendulkar in the same company and I'll take pleasure in telling you why. But, if you make the exception of Rahul's valiant effort in England, the two men have batted poorly, and the squad has naturally fared disgracefully. Go back further, right up to Tiger Pataudi's time, and you'll realize that if there is one reason Indian cricket has been known, it is for our batting. And it's here that we've failed miserably. Every single Indian batsman of repute has been terribly out of form since the last World Cup, and it's culminated in the retirement of the two individuals who have courageously, and in a self-effacing manner, anchored the success of our test team. The failure would be less alarming had we not become a receptacle of failure in other formats. We've fared only slightly better in limited overs cricket, failing to make it to the finals of a major multi-team competition since 2011, and losing the much prized home-series to Pakistan. One is compelled to reason how a team that won the World Cup as recently as two years ago (a miserably boring and easy one withal) could fall to such disgrace. The obvious answer for many 'traditionalists' is to blame it on the Indian Premier League. Ever since its inception in 2007, the league has been berated as an instrument to use the new middle-class Indian consumerist society to fill the coffers of the already prosperous Board of Cricket for Control in India (BCCI). The principal criticism from former cricketers themselves is that the League promotes a culture that gives priority to the franchise over the country. These detractors include almost every former national player who is currently not in the employment of the BCCI or associated with the IPL.

On a recent television show, Imran Khan had no compunction in wholly blaming the IPL for our string of losses. He is not alone in this assessment, and others with a more holistic perspective, like Ramachandara Guha, argue against the League's undemocratic (in terms of franchise location) nature and its boorish degeneration of the gentleman's game into an ostentatious display of consumerism. Both evaluations, embody, in essence, legitimate concerns; but, in my view, are guilty of gratuitous over-simplification. Though I share Mr. Guha's antediluvian romanticism for Test cricket, we cannot let this fascination impede the growth of cricket as a global phenomenon—something for which only T20s can be used as a viable vehicle.Those who consider the IPL as sacrilegious slam-banging need to realize that the benefits of the League far outweigh its negatives. It can be no one's contention that the IPL does not burden the already-crowded cricketing calendar. It often gives rise to injuries, with players rarely ever choosing to drop out of the event as a consequence of the high fees that are paid to them. I need only cite the example of a prominent Delhi cricketer who chose to play for his franchise in the 2011 edition of the event; and later claimed to be unfit to represent the national side. But, at the heart of the revolution that is the IPL, lie the opportunities it provides to lesser-known cricketers who are usually hard done by the circuit of patronage that is Indian domestic cricket. Ask Swapnil Asnodkar and Ambati Rayudu (two superbly talented batsmen) what the IPL is about, and they will tell you that it's the best thing that's ever happened to them. 
The BCCI has, in its defence, made substantive use of the revenue it gains from the IPL. The match fees for a Ranji match have more than quadrupled over the past five years. In less than a fortnight, three new world-class stadiums in three different corners of the country will host their first-ever international matches. To build each of these stadiums, the BCCI gave upto Rs. 75 Crores to the respective state association; and the annual grants to these associations for the development of local cricket have exponentially grown. The overall cricketing infrastructure and the domestic scene, right from the sub-junior tourneys to the Ranji Trophy, have seen tremendous improvement.
Everything needs to be viewed in perspective, and it would be a folly to claim that the IPL almost always stokes a sense of dereliction towards one's country. Kevin Pietersen is an integral part of the Delhi Daredevils, but this has not precluded his contribution to the success of the English team; he has no hesitation in ditching the IPL in favour of national duty. And some duty he performs—thramming attack after another with untrammelled audacity. There are countless such instances—off the top of my head, I can think of Kumar Sangakkara and Mahela Jayawardane, the legendary Jacques Kallis, and even Brendon McCullum—serving their IPL franchise and country outstandingly, yet knowing where their paramount loyalty ought to lie. 

If foreign cricketers can realize this, so can the Indian ones. In fact, despite my present distaste for our current captain, I think he has balanced his role as the leader of the Chennai Super Kings and that of the National team admirably. The real problem, in my mind, that needs to be addressed is the inability of the players and the selection committee to reconcile themselves with the fact that, in the current situation—where all three formats are likely to continue at least for the foreseeable future—one cannot have the same set of players across formats. The rise in the popularity of T20 cricket necessitates greater specialization, and this is something the BCCI needs to accept. We need specialized batsmen, and even specialized captains and support staff for that matter; because the capabilities required in each format are wildly different. If today, South Africa is the greatest cricketing nation in the world, it is in no small measure due to the concerted effort that has been made by the CSA to build a specialized team (with the exception of a few essential players) in each format. South Africa, and even Australia and England recognized the value of this line of thought early on, and have reaped the benefits of this precocious wisdom. 

The second, and slightly more intractable problem that needs to be tackled is the culture of nepotism and sycophancy that pervades the national team and the upper echelons of the BCCI. If Dhoni's captaincy is considered beyond question, it is only because he is regarded as Mr. Srinivasan's little puppy-dog. Subsequently, if Suresh Raina and Rohit Sharma have sustained their positions in spite of ridiculously terrible performances, it is because they are Dhoni's little puppy-dogs. No longer is the same meritocracy that was emblematic of Gary Kirsten's tenure visible. The culture is symptomatic of the wider historic nepotism that the BCCI has carried through in both success and in failure. The fabric for enduring success can only be laid when the administrative structure of the BCCI is reformed. Without getting into the modalities of it, the BCCI is run through its thirty state organizations, which are supremely undemocratic. Bihar, one of the most populous states in the country does not have membership, and the North-East is vastly under-represented; Gujarat sends three members—Baroda, Saurashtra and Gujarat itself; so does Maharashtra—Mumbai, Vidarbha and Maharashtra itself. 
The notoriety attached to the running of these associations is well-known. Like much else in India, many of these associations have been reduced to family firms, and only very few truly have free and fair elections. Very few former cricketers actually participate in cricket administration; the state associations are as much about Politics as they are about cricket. Politicians, with no prior experience of, or interest in cricket, have come to see membership of the BCCI as a powerful tool of personal aggrandizement  For instance, I am confident that Sharad Pawar cannot hold a cricket bat in the proper grip if he was asked to.  
In short, the challenges that face the BCCI today are diverse, and only a campaign to tackle both the short-term challenge of rebuilding a team for the 2015 World Cup and the long-term one to foster reform can truly deliver Indian cricket from the mess it currently resides in.