THE M.C.C.

Six WEEKS later Rajam came to Swaminathan's house to announce that he
forgave him all his sins--starting with his political activities, to his new acquisition,
the Board High School air, by which was meant a certain slowness and stupidity
engendered by mental decay.
After making his exit from Albert Mission School in that theatrical manner
(on the day following the strike), Swaminathan became so consistently stubborn
that a few days later his father took him to the Board School and admitted him
there. At first Swaminathan was rather uncertain of his happiness in the new
school. But he excited the curiosity that all newcomers do, and found himself to his
great satisfaction the centre of attraction in Second C. All his new class-mates,
remarkably new faces, often clustered round him to see him and hear him talk. He
had not yet picked the few that he would have liked to call his chums. He still
believed that his Albert Mission set was intact, though, since the reopening in June,
the set was not what it had been before. Sankar disappeared, and people said that
his father had been transferred; Somu was not promoted, and that meant he was
automatically excluded from the group, the law being inexorable in that respect; the
Pea was promoted, but he returned to the class exactly three months late, and he
was quite full up with medical certificates, explanations, and exemptions. He was a
man of a hundred worries now, and passed his old friends like a stranger. Only
Rajam and Mani were still intact as far as Swaminathan was concerned. Mani saw
him every day. But Rajam had not spoken to him since the day when his political
doings became known.
And now this afternoon Swaminathan was sitting in a dark corner of the
house trying to make a camera with a card board box and a spectacle lens. In his
effort to fix the lens in the hole that was one round too large, he was on the point of
losing his temper, when he heard a familiar voice calling him. He ran to the door. 'Hallo! Hallo! Rajam,' he cried, 'why didn't you tell me you were coming?'
'What is the thing in your hand?' Rajam asked.
'Oh,' Swaminathan said, blushing.
'Come, come, let us have a look at it.'
'Oh, it is nothing,' Swaminathan said, giving him the box.
As Rajam kept gazing at the world through the hole in the cardboard box,
Swaminathan said, 'Akbar Ali of our class has made a marvellous camera.'
'Has he? What does he do with it?'
'He has taken a lot of photos with it.'
'Indeed! Photos of what?'
'He hasn't yet shown them to me, but they are probably photos of houses,
people, and trees.'
Rajam sat down on the door-step and asked, 'And who is this Akbar Ali?'
'He is a nice Mohammedan, belongs to our class.'
'In the Board High School?' There was just a suspicion of a sneer in his
tone. Swaminathan preferred to ignore this question and continued, 'He has a
bicycle. He is a very fine Mohammedan, calls Mohammed of Gazni and
Aurangazeb rascals.'
'What makes you think that they were that?'
'Didn't they destroy our temples and torture the Hindus? Have you
forgotten the Somnathpur God?...'
'We brahmins deserve that and more,' said Rajam. 'In our house my father
does not care for New-Moon days and there are no Annual Ceremonies for the
dead.' He was in a debating mood, and Swaminathan realised it and remained
silent. Rajam said, 'I tell you what, it is your Board High School that has given you
this mentality.'
Swaminathan felt that the safest course would be to agree with him. 'You
are right in a way. I don't like the Board High School.'
'Then why did you go and join it?'
'I could not help it. You saw how beastly our Head Master was. If you had
been in my place, you would have kicked him in the face.'
This piece of flattery did not soothe Rajam, 'If I were you I would have kept
clear of all your dirty politics and strikes.' His father was a Government servant, and
hence his family was anti-political.
Swaminathan said, 'You are right. I should have remained at home on the
day of the strike.' This example of absolute submissiveness touched Rajam. He
said promptly that he was prepared to forgive Swaminathan his past sins and
would not mind his belonging to the Board School. They were to be friends as of
old. What would you say to a cricket team?' Rajam asked.
Swaminathan had not thought of cricket as something that he himself could
play. He was, of course, familiar with Hobbs, Bradman, and Duleep, and vainly
tried to carry their scores in his head, as Rajam did. He filched pictures of cricket
players, as Rajam did, and pasted them in an album, though he secretly did not
very much care for those pictures there was something monotonous about them.
He sometimes thought that the same picture was pasted in every page of the
album.
'No, Rajam, I don't think I can play. I don't know how to play.'
'That is what everybody thinks' said Rajam, 'I don't know how myself,
though I collect pictures and scores.'
This was very pleasing to hear. Probably Hobbs too was shy and skeptical
before he took the bat and swung it. We can challenge a lot of teams, including our
School Eleven. They think they can't be beaten,' said Swaminathan.
'What! The Board School mugs think that! We shall thrash them. Oh, yes.'
'What shall we call it?'
'Don't you know? It is the M. C. C.,' said Rajam.
That is Hobbs's team, isn't it? They may drag us before a court if we take
their name.'
'Who says that? If we get into any trouble, I shall declare before the judge
that M. C. C. stands for Malgudi Cricket Club.'
Swaminathan was a little disappointed. Though as M. C. C. it sounded
imposing, the name was really a bit tame.
'I think we had better try some other name, Rajam.'
What would you suggest?'
Well-I am for "Friends Eleven".'
'Friends Eleven?'
'Or say "Jumping Stars"?' said Swaminathan.
'Oh, that is not bad, not bad you know.'
'I do think it would be glorious to call ourselves "Jumping Stars"!'
Rajam instantly had a vision of a newspaper report: 'The Jumping Stars
soundly thrashed the Board High School Eleven.'
'It is a beauty, I think,' he cried, moved by the vision.
He pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil, and said, 'Come on, Swami,
repeat the names that come to your head. It would be better to have a long list to
select from. We shall underline "Jumping Stars" and "M. C. C." and give them
special consideration. Come on.'
Swaminathan remained thoughtful and started,' "Friends Eleven"....
"Jumping Stars".... "Friends Union"...'
'I have "Friends Union" already here,' Rajam said, pointing to the list.
Swaminathan went on: ' "Excelsiors"....'
'I have got it.'
' "Excelsior Union".... "Champion Eleven"...' A long pause.
'Are you dried up?' Rajam asked.
'No, if Mani were here, he would have suggested a few more names…
"Champion Eleven".'
'You have just said it.'
' "Victory Union Eleven"...'
That is very good. I think it is very very good. People would be afraid of us.'
He held the list before him and read the names with great satisfaction. He had
struggled hard on the previous night to get a few names. But only 'Friends Union'
and 'Excelsiors' kept coming till he felt fatigued. But what a lot of names
Swaminathan was able to reel off. 'Can you meet me to-morrow evening, Swami? I
shall get Mani down. Let us select a name.'
After a while Swaminathan asked, 'Look here, do you think we shall have
to pay tax or something to the Government when we start the team?'
The Government seems to tax everything in this world.
My father's pay is about five hundred. But nearly two hundred and over is
demanded by the Government. Anyway, what makes you think that we shall have
to pay tax?'
'I mean--if we don't pay tax, the Government may not recognise our team
or its name and a hundred other teams may take the same name. It might lead to
all sorts of complications.'
'Suppose we have two names?' asked Rajam.
'It is not done.'
'I know a lot of teams that have two names. When I was in Bishop Waller's,
we had a cricket team that we called I don't remember the name now. I think we
called it "Cricket Eleven" and "Waller's Cricket Eleven". You see, one name is for
ordinary use and the other is for matches.'
'It is all very well for a rich team like your Waller's. But suppose the
Government demands two taxes from us?'
Rajam realised at this point that the starting of a cricket team was the most
complicated problem on earth. He had simply expected to gather a dozen fellows
on the maidan next to his compound and play, and challenge the world. But here
were endless troubles, starting with the name that must be unique. Government
taxes, and so on. The Government did not seem to know where it ought to interfere and where not. He had a momentary sympathy for Gandhi; no wonder he was
dead against the Government.
Swaminathan seemed to be an expert in thinking out difficulties. He said,
'Even if we want to pay, whom are we to pay the taxes to?' Certainly not to His
Majesty or the Viceroy. Who was the Government? What if somebody should take
the money and defraud them, somebody pretending to be the Government?
Probably they would have to send the taxes by Money Order to the Governor! Well,
that might be treason. And then what was the amount to be paid?
They sat round Rajam's table in his room. Mani held before him a
catalogue of Messrs Binns, the Shop for Sports Goods. He read,' "Junior Willard
Bats, Seven Eight, made of finest seasoned wood, used by Cambridge Junior
Boys', Eleven".'
'Let me have a look at it....' said Rajam. He bent over the table and said,
'Seems to be a fine bat. Have a look at it, Swami.' Swaminathan craned his neck
and agreed that it was a fine bat, but he was indiscreet enough to say, 'It looks like
any other bat in the catalogue.' Mani's left hand shot out and held his neck and
pressed his face close to the picture of the bat: 'Why do you pretend to be a cricket
player if you cannot see the difference between Junior Willard and other bats? You
are not fit to be even a sweeper in our team.'
After this admonition the hold was relaxed. Rajam asked, 'Swami, do you
know what the catalogue man calls the Junior Willard? It seems it is the Rolls-
Royce among the junior bats. Don't you know the difference between the Rolls-
Royce and other cars?'
Swaminathan replied haughtily, 'I never said I saw no difference between
the Rolls-Royce and other cars.'
'What is the difference?' urged Rajam.
Mani laughed and teased, 'Come on. If you really know the difference, why
don't you say it?'
Swaminathan said, 'The Rolls cost a lakh of rupees, while other cars cost
about ten thousand; a Rolls has engines made of silver, while other cars have iron
engines.'
'Oh, oh!' peered Rajam.
'A Rolls never gives trouble, while other cars always give trouble; a Rolls
engine never stops; a Rolls-Royce never makes a noise, while other cars always
make a noise.'
"Why not deliver a lecture on the Rolls-Royce?' asked Mani.
'Swami, I am glad you know so much about the Rolls Royce. I am at the
same time ashamed to find you knowing so little about Willard Junior. We had
about a dozen Willard Juniors when I was in Bishop Waller's. Oh! what bats! There
are actual springs inside the bat, so that when you touch the ball it flies. There is
fine silk cord wound round the handle. You don't know anything, and yet you talk!
Show me another bat which has silk cord and springs like the Willard.'
There was a pause, and after that Rajam said, 'Note it down, Swami.'
Swaminathan noted down on a paper, Vilord June-ear bat.' And looking up asked,
'How many?'
'Say three. Will that do, Mani?'
'Why waste money on three bats? Two will do....'
'But suppose one breaks in the middle of a match?' Rajam asked.
'Do you suppose we are going to supply bats to our opponents? They will
have to come provided with bats. We must make it clear.'
'Even then, if our bat breaks we may have to stop playing.'
'Two will do, Rajam, unless you want to waste money.'
Rajam's enthusiasm was great. He left his chair and sat on the arm of
Mani's chair, gloating over the pictures of cricket goods in the catalogue.
Swaminathan, though he was considered to be bit of a heretic, caught the
enthusiasm and perched on the other arm of the chair. All the three devoured with
their eyes the glossy pictures of cricket balls, bats, and nets.In about an hour they selected from the catalogue their team's
requirements. And then came the most difficult part of the whole affair--a letter to
Messrs Binns, ordering goods. Bare courtesy made Rajam offer the authorship of
the letter to Mani, who declined it. Swaminathan was forced to accept it in spite of
his protests, and he sat for a long time chewing his pencil without producing a
word: he had infinite trouble with spelling, and the more he tried to be correct the
more muddled he was becoming; in the end he sat so long thinking of spelling that
even such words as 'The' and 'And' became doubtful. Rajam took up the task
himself. Half an hour later he placed on the table a letter: 'From M. C. C. (And
Victory Union Eleven), Malgudi.
To
Messrs Binns,
Sportsmen,
Mount Road,
Madras.
'DEAR SIR, 'Please send to our team two junior willard bats, six balls,
wickets and other things quick. It is very urgent. We shall send you money
afterwards. Don't fear. Please be urgent.
'Yours obediently, 'CAPTAIN RAJAM (Captain).'
This letter received Swaminathan's benedictions. But Mani expressed
certain doubts. He wanted to know whether 'Dear' could stand at the beginning of a
letter to a perfect stranger. 'How can you call Binns "Dear Sir"? You must say "Sir".'
Rajam's explanation was: 'I won't say "Sir". It is said only by clerks. I am
not Binns's clerk. I don't care to address him as "Sir".'
So this letter went as it was. After this exacting work they were resting, with
a feeling of relief, when the postman came in with a card for Rajam. Rajam read it
and cried, 'Guess who has written this?'
'Binns.'
'Silly. It must be our Head Master.'
'Somebody.'
'J. B. Hobbs.'
'It is from Sankar,' Rajam announced joyfully.
'Sankar! We had almost forgotten that old thief.' Swaminathan and Mani
tore the card from Rajam's hand and read: 'MY DEAR FRIEND, 'I am studying here
because my father came here. My mother is also here. All of us are here. And we
will be only here. I am doing well. I hope you are doing well. It is very hot here. I
had fever for three days and drank medicine. I hope I will read well and pass the
examination. Is Swami and Mani doing well! It is very hot here. I am playing cricket
now. I can't write more.
'With regards', 'Your dearest friend, 'SANKAR.'
'P. S. Don't forget me.
'S.'

They were profoundly moved by this letter, and decided to reply at once.
Three letters were ready in an hour. Mani copied Sankar's letter verbatim.
Swaminathan and Rajam wrote nearly similar letters: they said they were doing
well by the grace of God; they hoped that Sankar would pass and also that he was
doing well; then they said a lot about their cricket team and hoped that Sankar
would become a member; they also said that Sankar's team might challenge them
to a match.
The letters were put into a stamped envelope, and the flap was pasted. It
was only then that they felt the need of knowing Sankar's address. They searched
all parts of Sankar's card. Not a word anywhere, not even the name of the town he
was writing from. They tried to get this out of the postmark. But a dark curved
smudge on the stamp cannot be very illuminating.
The M.C.C. and its organisers had solid proof that they were persons of
count when a letter from Binns came addressed to the Captain, M.C.C., Malgudi. It
was a joy, touching that beautiful envelope and turning it over in the hand. Binns were the first to recognise the M.C.C., and Rajam took a vow that he would buy
every bit that his team needed from that great firm. There were three implications in
this letter that filled Rajam and his friends with rapture: (1) that His Majesty's post
office recognised their team was proved by the fact that the letter addressed to the
captain was promptly delivered to him; (2) that they were really recognised by such
a magnificent firm as Binns of Madras was proved by the fact that Binns cared to
reply in a full letter and not on a card, and actually typed the letter! (3) Binns sent
under another cover carrying four annas postage a huge catalogue. What a tribute!
The letter informed the captain that Messrs Binns thanked him for his letter
and would be much obliged to him if he would kindly remit 25% with the order and
the balance could be paid against the V.P.P. of the Railway Receipt.
Three heads buzzed over the meaning of this letter. The trouble was that
they could not understand whether Binns were going to send the goods or not.
Mani promised to unravel the letter if somebody would tell him what 'Obliged'
meant. When they turned the pages of a dictionary and offered him the meaning,
he was none the wiser. He felt that it was a meaningless word in that place. 'One
thing is clear,' said Rajam, 'Binns thanks us for our letter. So I don't think this letter
could mean a refusal to supply us goods.' Swaminathan agreed with him, 'That is
right. If he did not wish to supply you with things, would he thank you?
He would have abused you.' He scrutinised the letter again to make sure
that there was no mistake about the thanks.
'Why has the fool used this word?' Mani asked, referring to 'Obliged' which
he could not pronounce. It has no meaning. Is he trying to make fun of us?'
'He says something about 25%. I wish I knew what it was', said Rajam.
Swaminathan could hardly contain himself, 'I say, Rajam, I am surprised
that you cannot understand this letter; you got 60% in the last examination.'
'Have you any sense in you? What has that to do with this. Even a B. A.
cannot understand this letter.' in the end they came to the conclusion that the letter was sent to them by
mistake. As far as they could see, the M.C.C. had written nothing in their previous
letter to warrant such expressions as 'Obliged', 'Remit', and '25%'. It could not be
that the great firm of Binns were trying to make fun of them. Swaminathan pointed
out 'To the Captain, M.C.C.' at the beginning of the letter. But he was told that it
was also a part of the mistake.
This letter was put in a cover with a covering letter and dispatched. The
covering letter said: 'We are very sorry that you sent me somebody's letter. We are
returning this somebody's letter. Please send our things immediately.'
The M. C. C. were an optimistic lot. Though they were still unhonoured with a reply
to their second letter, they expected their goods to arrive with every post. After ten
days they thought they would start playing with whatever was available till they got
the real bats, etc. The bottom of a dealwood case provided them with three good
bats, and Rajam managed to get three used tennis balls from his father's club. The
Pea was there, offering four real stumps that he believed he had somewhere in his
house. A neat slip of ground adjoining Rajam's bungalow was to be the pitch.
Everything was ready. Even if Binns took a month more to manufacture the goods
specially for the M. C. C. (as they faintly thought probable), there need be no delay
in starting practice. By the time the real bats and the balls arrived, they would be in
form to play matches. Rajam had chosen from his class a few who, he thought,
deserved to become members of the M. C. C. At five o'clock on the opening day,
the M. C. C. had as sembled, all except the Pea, for whom Rajam was waiting
anxiously. He had promised to bring the real stumps. It was half an hour past time
and yet he was not to be seen anywhere.
At last his puny figure was discovered in the distance. There was a catch in
Rajam's heart when he saw him. He strained his eyes to find out if the Pea had the
things about him. But since the latter was coming from the west, he was seen in
the blaze of the evening sun. All the twelve assembled in the field shaded their eyes and looked. Some said that he was carrying a bundle, while some thought
that he was swinging his hands freely.
When he arrived, Rajam asked, 'Why didn't you tell us that you hadn't the
stumps?'
'I have still got them,' protested the Pea, 'I shall bring them to-morrow. I am
sure my father knows where they are kept.'
'You kept us waiting till now. Why did you not come earlier and tell us that
you could not find them?'
'I tell you, I have been spending hours looking for them everywhere. How
could I come here and tell you and at the same time search?'
A cloud descended upon the gathering. For over twenty hours every one
among them had been dreaming of swinging a bat and throwing a ball. And they
could have realised the dream but for the Pea's wickedness. Everybody looked at
him sourly. He was isolated. Rajam felt like crying when he saw the dealwood
planks and the tennis balls lying useless on the ground. What a glorious evening
they could have had if only the stumps had been brought!
Amidst all this gloom somebody cast a ray of light by suggesting that they
might use the compound wall of Rajam's bungalow as a temporary wicket.
A portion of the wall was marked off with a piece of charcoal, and the
captain arranged the field and opened the batting himself. Swaminathan took up
the bowling. He held a tennis ball in his hand, took a few paces, and threw it over.
Rajam swung the bat but missed it. The ball hit the wall right under the charcoal
mark. Rajam was bowled out with the very first ball! There was a great shout of joy.
The players pressed round Swaminathan to shake him and pat him on the back, he
was given on the very spot the tide, 'Tate'.