Established 157 years ago in 1864, the Eden Gardens at Kolkata, is the oldest cricket ground in the sub-continent and third largest in the world. Test Cricket first came to the venue in 1934 when Douglas Jardine’s England eased to victory inside four days. Since then, the ground has acquired the status of a place of pilgrimage for most international cricketers, primarily because of the cricketing atmosphere and it\u2019s large and passionately vociferous crowds. Match day attendance of more than 100,000 spectators has been recorded on at least 6 occasions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Former greats Steve Waugh and Dilip Vengaskar have compared it with Lords. A visiting New Zealand journalist simply described it as \u2018a place that just feels like cricket. To call it a stadium does not do it justice.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Test Match at Eden Gardens was traditionally scheduled across the New Year, usually starting on the last day of the outgoing year and was like a carnival or extended picnic for the cricket fanatics of the city, spread over five days of excitement in mellow winter sunshine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Much looked forward to and passionately analysed over endless cups of tea at innumerable Calcutta street-corner gatherings, these were games that almost the entire able- bodied population of the cricket-crazy city turned up at. Most die-hard fans of that generation made it a point to be at the ground for almost every single Test Match played at Eden Gardens over the years and wore that statistic like a Badge of Honour. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those matches were like signposts on their life\u2019s journey and their conversation flowed effortlessly from the greats of the modern era, to the Bill Lawrys and Graham Mackenzies, the Wes Halls and Gary Sobers, the Colin Cowdreys and Ken Barringtons that they had watched there, over the years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A ticket to the Test Match was a coveted thing and the ground was always packed to capacity. People stood in long, serpentine queues outside the stadium, in rope-and-wooden stake corridors that led to the stadium gates. They carried newspapers and water bottles and lunch boxes and winter oranges, waiting patiently from the crack of dawn, to be able to get inside in time for the Toss on the first day, which no one wanted to miss. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such was the romance of Test Cricket on those hazy, misty winter mornings at Eden Gardens, long ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Crowds at Calcutta, known to be amongst the most vociferous and knowledgeable in the world, understood and appreciated every subtle nuance of the game. Over the years they\u2019d come to be known as one of the most fanatically devoted cricket congregations of the world, capable of emphatically expressing their opinions in no uncertain terms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The home team traditionally enjoyed the full-throated backing of the capacity crowd here, as their trademark roar, accompanied by the clanging of \u2018Kasor -ghonta\u2019 or cymbals, resonated around the ground, long before Mexican Waves undulated at stadiums across the world. They had once famously \u2018shouted out\u2019 Ian Chappell on 99 in the late ’60s and in 1972, brought a 6 ft 7 in tall Tony Greig down to his knees with folded hands, as he begged to be allowed to concentrate through the nervous 90s, to a coveted Test hundred. Needless to say, post that unexpected appeal from the charismatic Greig, the crowd adopted him as one of their own and literally cheered him to his hundred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No wonder it is said that a player\u2019s cricketing education is incomplete till he has played at Eden Gardens. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was the background to the New Year\u2019s Test Match that commenced on the last day of 1966. Eden Gardens, in those days, had an official capacity of 40,000 people, but the number of spectators at the ground on the opening day, was much greater. Eager to watch stars like Sobers, Kanhai, Hall and Pataudi, more people had come in than could be accommodated and at least 20,000 extra tickets had been sold, thanks to the callousness of the officials at the Cricket Association of Bengal. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back then, the stadium still had wooden stands that were easily inflammable and although there was a half-hearted attempt to allot seat numbers, no one really bothered about such things. Policemen were everywhere, be it constables inside the ground or mounted police on horseback outside the stadium, guarding the entrances, ensuring that nothing untoward took place. And yet, on that long ago New Year\u2019s Day, that is exactly what happened. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a tense first day of uneasy calm, the stadium erupted on the second day of the contest. There was not an inch of vacant space inside. Play had not even started when spectators started spilling over the boundary ropes, onto the ground. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The police reacted in the only manner that they knew, resorting to a lathi-charge that left a number of spectators injured. An elderly gentleman who had been trying to reason with the cops was mercilessly beaten up and fell to the ground. That was the spark that lit the fire. The spectators, who vastly outnumbered the police, set fire to the wooden galleries at the Pavillion End, which quickly spread to the canvas roof. The police fired tear-gas shells, leading to a full-scale riot. Pandemonium reigned and players and officials took refuge in the dressing rooms. A police jeep was set on fire, as were some public buses, leading to the Second Day\u2019s play being abandoned without a single ball being bowled. Meanwhile, some West Indian players had run outside the stadium in panic, along the Red Road, in a bid to get away. They were guided back to the stadium and later escorted to the Great Eastern Hotel in heavily guarded team buses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n