Historically, Natore was not always the thriving land we see
today. Once a vast expanse of water, it began transforming in 1706 when
Raja Ramjibon Rai undertook the ambitious task of reclaiming the waterlogged
terrain to establish his capital. This marked the beginning of a new chapter,
as the Maharajas of Natore spearheaded a movement toward cultural and economic
renaissance. Their visionary leadership fostered advancements in education, the
arts, and local industry, laying the groundwork for Natore’s prominence in the
undivided Indian subcontinent. Among their many contributions, the Maharajas
embraced cricket—a quintessentially British pastime—during the colonial era,
embedding it into the cultural fabric of Bengal.
The roots of cricket in the subcontinent can be traced back
to 1721 when British sailors played an early match in the port of Cambay.
These games initially meant to alleviate homesickness among the soldiers, soon
piqued the curiosity of local spectators. Despite its complexity, cricket
struck a chord with the locals, who observed it with fascination and gradually
adopted it fervently. What began as a foreign diversion evolved into a shared
passion, intertwining with the region's cultural identity. Natore, with
its openness to artistic and sporting pursuits, became a vital node in
spreading the game, exemplifying how colonial legacies could transform into
enduring traditions.
In his seminal work, *Cricket in Colonial India
(1780-1947)*, historian Boria Majumdar captures the intricate relationship
between cricket and colonial India’s socio-political fabric. He writes, “From
the earliest years of British settlement in India, cricket was nurtured by
leading public figures, military commanders, educators, and journalists.
Consequently, it was natural for men of status and affluence in India – the
princes or Maharajas – to take up the alien sport. Maharaja patronage of sports
was an established practice in India by the middle of the eighteenth century.”
This observation underscores the dual nature of cricket in colonial India: a
sport and a symbol, wielded as both a marker of prestige and a tool of
resistance.
The Maharajas of the Indian subcontinent, already enamoured
with pursuits like big-game hunting, polo, golf, and horse racing, saw cricket
as a new avenue to elevate their social standing. Initially an emblem of
aristocratic leisure, cricket soon evolved into a platform for more profound
ambitions. Majumdar aptly notes, “For some aristocrats, cricket was a tool of
social mobility; for others, it was a means of challenging the British masters
by defeating them on their own turf. For some others, however, much more than
achieving social mobility by emulating the colonizers, it was a means to
further other ambitions, gain economic stability, and secure political power
over rivals.”
Cricket thus became a complex instrument of power dynamics,
transcending its colonial origins. It offered a medium for political
manoeuvring, a stage for rivalries, and a mechanism for asserting dominance,
not just over the British but also among the princely states themselves. The
game’s popularity grew exponentially as it became entwined with the competitive
spirit of the Indian aristocracy, who sought to outshine one another on the
cricket field as much as in their courts and palaces.
One of the most significant rivalries in this context was between Maharaja Nripendra Narayan Bhup Bahadur of Cooch Behar and Maharaja Jagadindranarayan Ray of Natore. Their contest was not merely a matter of sport but a microcosm of the larger interplay of power, prestige, and cultural assimilation in colonial Bengal. This rivalry, emblematic of the era, played a pivotal role in popularizing cricket across the region. The fervour and ambition that fueled their cricketing endeavours ensured that the sport took deep root in Bengal, ultimately transforming it into a lasting cultural legacy.
Before the outbreak of the First World War, the Maharaja of Cooch Behar epitomized aristocratic cricket patronage, maintaining no fewer than three cricket teams at his own expense. These teams boasted the inclusion of renowned professional cricketers such as Joe Vine, George Cox, and Frank Tarrant, whose prowess on the field elevated the Cooch Behar XI to formidable heights. Well-balanced and strategically composed, the team exuded confidence and authority, challenging even the most competitive sides of the era with a sense of audacity that mirrored their patron’s ambition.
The dominance of the Cooch Behar XI did not go unnoticed, particularly by the Zamindari state of Natore. Inspired, or perhaps provoked, by this display of might, Maharaja Jagadindranarayan Ray embarked on his own cricketing journey around 1906. Determined to rival the grandeur of Cooch Behar, he meticulously assembled a team that included talents like P. Vithal, J.S. Warden, P. Shivram, and K. Seshachari. Yet, Ray’s vision extended beyond merely replicating the success of his rival; it was imbued with a deeper purpose of fostering local pride and engagement.
Maharaja Ray’s commitment to the game culminated in a bold infrastructural endeavour: the purchase of 45 acres of land at Bondel Road near old Ballygunge in South Kolkata. This vast expanse was transformed into a cricket field, a space that became both a sanctuary for his team and a stage for his ambitions. Unlike the Cooch Behar XI, which leaned heavily on imported talent, the Natore team featured a greater proportion of local players, particularly Bengalis. This deliberate inclusion not only galvanized Bengali spectators but also inspired them to embrace and practice the game, embedding cricket more firmly into the cultural identity of the region.
Hemachandra Ray, reflecting on the era, poignantly remarked, “At the time when the Natore team dominated Bengal cricket, the Maharaja of Cooch Behar had also formed a quality cricket team. However, we Bengalis could not rejoice at the victories of the Cooch Behar side. This was because Bengalis were a marginal presence in the Cooch Behar team, and hence the credit for these victories went to the European players of the team.” His words underscore a critical distinction between the two teams: while Cooch Behar’s success was largely attributed to its reliance on professional players from Europe, Natore’s triumphs resonated as a source of pride for the Bengali populace, symbolizing a deeper connection between the sport and local identity.
The Maharaja of Natore embodied the spirit of nationalism,
his ideals deeply intertwined with both his political endeavours and his passion
for cricket. A staunch supporter of the Indian National Congress, he rose to
prominence at a young age, becoming the President of the Natore Political
Association at just 18, a role he assumed at the behest of the legendary
Surendranath Banerjee. By 1894, he had joined forces with Banerjee and
Anondamohan Bose to serve as a member of the Rajshahi Municipality, actively
contributing to the region’s governance. His nationalistic fervour reached its
zenith during the anti-partition movement of 1905, where he emerged as a key
figure opposing the division of Bengal. This unwavering commitment to the cause
of Indian self-determination found a unique expression on the cricket
field.
For the Maharaja of Natore, cricket was far more than a
sport—it was a symbolic battlefield. The cricket pitch became a stage where he
sought to challenge the British Raj on their own terms, using their beloved
game as a medium to assert Indian pride and resilience. Unlike his rival, the
Maharaja of Cooch Behar, who relied on English professionals to bolster his
team, Maharaja Ray’s vision was resolutely indigenous. He built his team
exclusively with Indian players, a deliberate act of defiance and a statement
of cultural sovereignty.
To further his mission of fostering Bengal’s cricketing prowess, the Maharaja enlisted the expertise of Saradaranjan Ray, a pioneer in Indian cricket coaching. Under Saradaranjan’s guidance, the Natore team flourished, embodying both skill and the Maharaja’s nationalist ethos. This collaboration was later strengthened by the involvement of Saradaranjan’s brothers, Muktidaranjan and Kuladaranjan, who joined the Maharaja’s efforts to promote cricket not only in Bengal but across India. Together, they forged a cricketing movement that was as much about sporting excellence as it was about cultural and political assertion, leaving an indelible mark on the history of Indian cricket.
The Maharaja of Natore’s determination to fulfil his dreams
knew no bounds, a testament to his unwavering spirit and compassion. This
resolve was most poignantly evident in his efforts to save the life of his
adopted son, Srishchandra Ray. Srishchandra, a promising young cricketer from a
humble background—his father a clerk at the Natore Court—had been embraced by
the Maharaja as both a protégé and a symbol of his cricketing vision.
Tragically, Srishchandra’s life was cut short by illness, leaving the Maharaja
devastated. The loss was so profound that he retreated to Shantiniketan for a
month in an attempt to cope with his grief, a gesture that astonished not only
the royal family but also Srishchandra’s biological parents, who could scarcely
fathom the depth of the Maharaja’s sorrow.
The Maharaja’s inclusive philosophy extended beyond personal
relationships and permeated his approach to cricket. When selecting his team,
caste and social hierarchy held no sway over his decisions. This progressive
outlook was exemplified in his choice to include Mani Das, a lower-caste Hindu,
whose cricketing prowess the Maharaja valued above all societal prejudices.
Despite resistance from the upper echelons of society, who favoured the
celebrated Bengal cricketer Kaladhan Mukherjee, the Maharaja stood firm in his
conviction that Mani was the superior player.
Reflecting on Mani’s contributions, the Maharaja recounted,
“Among the current lot of Bengali cricketers, Mani Das is one of the very best.
I had sent him to open the batting against Gwalior. He wasn’t willing to open
and was afraid of performing poorly in front of his more illustrious teammates.
Noting this apprehension, I called him and said, ‘We’re Bengalis! In a
predominantly Bengali cricket team, the Bengalis must take the
lead.’ Upon hearing this, he touched my feet for blessings and went out to the
middle, playing an innings that proved invaluable for the team in the end.”
The Maharaja’s vision for a strong Natore cricket team was further realized with the inclusion of players who challenged societal norms and elevated the team’s stature. Among them was the legendary left-arm spinner Palwankar Baloo, a Dalit whose skill transcended the barriers of untouchability. Joined by other stalwarts like Ganpat and Vithal, Baloo helped transform the Natore side into one of the most formidable cricket combinations in Colonial India. The Maharaja’s efforts not only enhanced the team’s competitive edge but also symbolized his commitment to breaking down barriers, both on and off the cricket field.
The Natore cricket team emerged as a beacon of pride for the
Bengali community, offering more than just victories on the field—it provided a
sense of liberation from the shackles of inferiority. Under the visionary
leadership of Maharaja Ray, cricket became not only a tool of rivalry but also
a platform for instilling the noble values of fairness and sportsmanship. His
ambitions transcended mere triumphs over opponents; they encompassed the
promotion of cricket as a symbol of integrity and a testament to the spirit of
the game.
One illustrative incident during a match against the Lawyers
of the High Court highlighted the Maharaja’s unwavering commitment to fair
play. In a contentious moment, a Natore batsman was declared run out after the
ball, struck by the striker, appeared to deflect off the bowler’s hand before
hitting the stumps. The bowler, Purna Ray, approached the umpire, insisting
that he had not touched the ball and requesting the decision be reversed. The
Maharaja, however, intervened with a firm yet principled stance, declaring that
the umpire’s decision must stand, for it was the essence of the game to respect
such judgments, even in error. Assuring the umpire—who appeared visibly
shaken—that human errors were inevitable, the Maharaja upheld the sanctity of
the sport, placing the spirit of cricket above all else.
Despite his enduring enthusiasm for cricket, Maharaja Ray’s passion began to wane after 1914. The death of his longtime rival, the Maharaja of Cooch Behar, marked the end of an era and seemingly extinguished much of his competitive drive. Gradually, his focus shifted to another domain of cultural significance: Bengali literature. His deep involvement with the Bangiya Sahitya Parishad signalled a new chapter in his life, one dedicated to the promotion of literary excellence. While this transition brought a halt to the progress of cricket in Bengal, it underscored the Maharaja’s multifaceted legacy as a patron of both sport and culture.
The reasons behind the Maharaja of Natore’s decision to
withdraw from promoting the game he so dearly loved remain a subject of
speculation. It is possible that his deep-rooted nationalistic sentiments and
his passion for cricket were initially fueled by a desire to challenge the
pride of his arch-rival, the Maharaja of Cooch Behar. Once his rival passed
away, however, the driving force behind his cricketing ambitions may have
faded. Regardless of the motivations, the Maharaja of Natore undeniably played
a pivotal role in popularizing cricket in both Natore and Bengal. The
connection between Natore and cricket is indelible—one that not only highlights
the district’s rich sporting history but also adds to the broader tapestry of
pride for both the local community and Bangladesh as a whole.
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