An all-time historic photograph

In photographic terms, cricket is both a panoramic and a microscopic game with opportunities aplenty for the ‘wide shot’ of action on a vast playing field and, ­increasingly, through technology, an ­imperative to capture the ­infinitely small variation and nuance of body, bat and ball. However, regardless of the drama of the image, the story behind the lens is just as often equally fascinating, as Mike Coward ­relates.

An historic moment (Courtesy: Mala Mukherjee.)

Given at the time of writing there had been just two tied matches in 2158 Tests in 138 years, it is unsurprising there are extraordinary back stories to the famous images of these frenetic and unforgettable events.

Recently, I interviewed the renowned Australian photographer Bruce Postle and he was unequivocal in declaring The Age photographer Ron Lovitt’s picture of the 1960 tie between Australia and the West Indies the most iconic Australian cricket photograph.

As he retold the story for the interview archive at the Brad­man Museum and, so, for posterity, it struck me that this provided an appropriate forum for the telling of the off-beat story behind Mrs Mala Mukerjee’s image of the only other tied Test – between Australia and India at Madras (now Chennai).

Now a celebrated, internationally-renowned photographer, Mrs Mukerjee in 1986 was an enthusiastic amateur on the cusp of a professional career who had been invited to the Test match by the cricket administrator and arts patron M.A. Chidambaram, after whom the famous stadium in Chepauk is named.

Dressed in a saree and with her Nikon F3 camera on a tripod with shutter cord alongside, Mrs. Mukerjee was seated in a chair adjacent to the Press box with chairs reserved for the patrons and VVIPs of the Tamil Nadu Cricket Association.

Mala Mukerjee

Sensing a dramatic conclusion to the match and alarmed that she was running short of film, she prevailed upon a video cameraman representing national television broadcaster Doordarshan to find her a new roll of film. She could then breathe more easily after being given an extra roll of film by the obliging television cameraman in the dying stages of the 1052nd Test match.

Soon after regaining her composure, and having been a cricket enthusiast since her childhood in Kolkata, she knew instinctively that she could be witnessing a very special match and concentrated intently to capture every ball of the last four overs – in the form of negatives that remain in her extensive archive. And that was how she captured umpire Vikram Raju’s right index finger ­pointing skywards signalling the demise of tailen­der Maninder Singh leg before wicket to Greg Matthews for zero to the last but one delivery of the First Test ­between India and Australia on September 22, 1986.

As so often is the case on the Indian subcontinent, press photographers leave their vantage point near the end of a match to position themselves for the post-match presentation and award ceremonies.

On September 22, 1986, however, Mala had no need to leave her chair and so was the only photographer to have captured the penultimate delivery of the match from an elevated place.

No sooner had she reached home than she was contacted by N. Ram, the editor of The Hindu newspaper, with whom she had been speaking socially during the day. Not only had they exchanged pleasantries, they had also exchanged ­visiting cards.

Within a short time of en­qui­ring whether Mala had captured the historic moment, Ram was at her doorstep to collect two rolls of exposed film for publication in The Hindu the following morning and in the paper’s renowned national sports magazine, Sportstar.

As the cricket world marvelled at the image, Ram merely returned the negatives along with 4 x 6 prints and his thanks. To her dismay, from then onwards her priceless image started appearing in various publications without her permission and without attribution. Regrettably, the abuse of copyright has remained an issue for her and the image has even been ascribed to the Board of Control for Cricket in India.

On a ‘one-time publication’ basis, the image can now be purchased for US$200 from Mala Mukerjee after making contact through her website at www.malamukerjee.com or www.malaphotogallery.com.

Cricket has long interested Mala Mukerjee. As a girl she would accompany her brother, cousins and friends when they played on the maidans and happily collected award cards of famous cricketers from petrol pumps around the city. “Faces of Polly Umrigar, Richie Be­naud, Garry Sobers and Chandu Borde are etched in my me­mory,” she says.

Mala began her career as a photographer when in middle school and by 1960 was proudly toting a Leica camera gifted by her father. By the time she married in 1969 she considered herself a fully-fledged amateur photographer and began entertaining the thought of becoming a professional.

With her husband and son loving and playing the game, she had the opportunity to take pictures at club matches on the Azad Maidan, at Shivaji Park as well as at the Gymkhana gro­unds in Bombay and at various venues in Bangalore, Delhi and Madras.

Mala, who most recently exhibited in China, is not a sports photographer and does not show any of her sports images at her exhibitions. Coincidentally, her professional career began in 1986, but this was unrelated to the cachet she gained from the tied Test photograph.

These days her work principally encompasses portraits, abstract, art and travel, although recently, at a solo exhibition in Chennai, she was delighted when a prominent local reviewer mentioned she was responsible for the famous image of the Chennai tied Test. She says:

‘It gives me enormous satisfaction when people associate my name with this work. Publication of the tied Test photograph did cause much joy to my friends and my students as well as to me but I cannot say it helped me professionally.

Despite all the disappointment with the frequent copyright abuses of the photograph, I have very pleasant memories associated with this picture.

You will, no doubt, be aware that there is nothing very ­special about this picture in photographic terms. It is, in fact, quite ordinary. Seated hundreds of metres away from the scene of the event, I did not have the right lens to do justice to the scene. Nor was I at all prepared for it. Every time I see the picture in print I wish I could revisit the scene and do it again with a better lens.

For good or worse, my work has been frozen in time. I am very happy that the picture has found its way into cricketing lore and has become, if you will, part of the history of cricket.

I feel enormously lucky and happy. The fact that I could well have been somewhere else on that day and on that hour makes me feel deeply humble and fills me with a sense of awe and wonder.’ – (Courtesy: ­Between Wickets, Winter 2013).

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