Happy Holi Day

By Phil Long With the Barmy Army in India

So, another visit to Chandigarh and - as four years ago - another heavy defeat to ponder as we once again head south for the Third Test.

Two days sitting in the rain is hardly likely to endear you to any city or cricket ground, however pleasant, charming or hospitable it may be.

The image of Rahul Dravid dwarves these fans in Mohali

And when small print on your ticket inform you that 'no pass outs are available' sitting in the rain takes on a whole new dimension of boredom and frustration.

Mind you, Chandigarh isn't like any other city as it is a little over 50 years old and was designed as a new city in post-partition India by the architect Le Corbusier.

So instead of being able to wander through ancient streets and fascinating bazaars it's more Milton Keynes than Madras, more Corby than Kanpur!

Once again on an England tour it was ticketing policy of the local cricket authority that filled up a lot of column inches in the local newspapers.

When England are in town the ticket prices invariably shoot up to make as much money out of the visiting fans as possible.

However, this time the plot back-fired and the ground was left with huge swathes of empty terracing.

Local cricket fans had refused to shell out for tickets that cost anywhere between four and eight times as much as they did when we were here four years ago.

At Holi, people throw coloured powder and water at each other

On days four and five the Punjab Cricket Association swallowed its pride and slashed the prices, ensuring India¿s victory was watched by something approaching a full house.

If events in Chandigarh didn't exactly send us wild with delight then the post-match entertainment at the end of the fourth day certainly did.

Making my way out of the melee of humanity that marks the end of every day in the cheap seats (about 50 pence a day) I was tugged on the shoulder by a small child, his faced bedecked in the Indian tricolour.

As I prepared myself for another barrage of "What is your name?" and "What is your country?" questioning he shouted in my ear what sounded like "Australia 434" followed by an abrupt "OK. Bye".

Dismissing the notion that any team could have scored such a phenomenal amount in a one-day international around six of us skulked into a local bar to see what the score from Johannesburg really was.

Some three hours later those same six supporters were sat gobsmacked at what we'd been lucky enough to watch on TV - South Africa's remarkable achievement in successfully chasing 435 to win a one-day series.

The journey down south to Mumbai (Bombay) for the final Test should be a straightforward one.

Guide: Clickable India map, with ground guides

It is five hours by bus or train to Delhi and then a nice relaxing 24-hour train journey through the Indian countryside to Mumbai.

Unfortunately, the journey coincided with the Hindu festival of colour, Holi, and on the train journey down to Mumbai we found ourselves in the middle of it.

The celebration involves people throwing coloured powder and water at each other and spotting a white face at an open train window was too much of a temptation for many of the youngsters playing alongside the tracks.

Time and time again, we were the targets of their fun.

Whilst we laughed it off, spare a thought for one England fan who received an unpleasant rural variant - he was splattered by a cow dung bomb thrown from close quarters

For him, at least, things can only get better in Mumbai!