The weight of history probably paralysed the captains and the teams played a brand of risk-free cricket

Indian passports those days came with the legend: Valid for travel to all countries except the Republic of South Africa. But this was a brand new South Africa, and the air of excitement and anticipation of that first tour in 1992-93 remains unmatched.

India were to play the first-ever post-apartheid Test series. Nelson Mandela was not unaware of the symbolism — India’s had been one of the strongest voices against apartheid. There was too a sizeable population of Indian origin. Politics and marketing co-existed profitably, especially since the head of the United Cricket Board of South Africa (as it was called then) Dr. Ali Bacher was keenly sensitive to both.

In 1948, when the National Party came to power, India were the first country to close their embassy in South Africa. Forty three years later, at a meeting of the International Cricket Council at Lord’s, it was India who proposed South Africa’s re-entry into international cricket. Within four months of rejoining the ICC, a team under Clive Rice toured India. Later Rice was to say, “I now know how Neil Armstrong felt when he stood on the moon.” The word ‘historic’ was on everybody’s lips and attached to every event.

A year after that one-day series, India were in South Africa for the Test series. In between, Bacher ensured that another set of anti-apartheid countries was kept happy when South Africa toured the West Indies for a one-off Test in April. India, who believed that the first Test would be against them were not ecstatic at the turn of events, but this was billed as a Friendship Series, and one had to forgive friends after all. ‘Historic’ continued to be the word of the day.

It began with a motorcade in Durban. No one — players, officials, journalists — had seen anything like this; some of us waved to the crowds in the approved manner. Some merely grinned from ear to ear. It was the first of many unique experiences in a cricketing country mythologised in India because of its distance, its inaccessibility and the heroics of the last set of players to play international cricket, from the Pollocks and Mike Procter to Barry Richards.

As Kapil Dev prepared to send down the first ball of the series, it occurred to the more sensitive in the crowd that this would be the first time a non-White would be watching the game from behind the bowler’s arm. Nelson Mandela was to say later how he supported his favourite player, Australia’s Neil Harvey from within a ‘cage’ meant for Blacks, square of the wicket.

That no one found this unusual was unusual. Colin Cowdrey, then president of the ICC recalled playing in South Africa, and took refuge under the insensitive sportsman’s standard cop out: “We came to play cricket. Politics was not our concern.”

Jimmy Cook opened the batting to Kapil. He was nearly 40, had played for Transvaal with Graeme Pollock, and made over 2000 runs in the previous English season. Out first ball! Caught Tendulkar. Of the many first-evers, here was another one!

The weight of history probably paralysed the captains, Mohammad Azharuddin and Kepler Wessels, and the teams played a brand of risk-free cricket that led to humdrum Tests. South Africa won the four-Test series 1-0 and the ODI 5-2. India lost at Port Elizabeth where Kapil Dev made a memorable century, fit to rank with Pataudi’s 148 (Leeds), and V.V.S. Laxman’s 167 (Sydney) as outstanding in lost causes. The next highest score was 17 while Kapil made 129 with a marvellous exhibition of driving on either side of the wicket. Indians, while making history on field, were introduced to it off field too.

There was a visit to Gandhi’s Phoenix Settlement near Durban. In Johannesburg, we were invited for an audience with Nelson Mandela. He was 74, and moved with the practised air of a boxer (which he had once been). He didn’t walk into the room so much as shimmer in — to use Wodehouse’s description of Jeeves suddenly being among those present.

“I recognised you from television,” Mandela told Amrit Mathur, leaving the articulate Indian manager blushing and tongue-tied. Mandela put everybody at ease. The smile reached his eyes, the handshake was warm; it was like greeting an old friend.

“What a moment!” whispered Sanjay Manjrekar, standing nearby as Mandela walked around, greeting each of us in turn. The date was 29 October 1992 — I know because Mandela carefully wrote it out after signing a book I had been carrying with me, a biography by his friend and colleague Es’kia Mphahlele.

Mandela’s role in the resurrection of South African sport was immense. Gandhi didn’t have quite the same role in Indian sport. When it came to naming the trophy for the bilateral series, however, the authorities went beyond cricket and called it the Mahatma Gandhi-Nelson Mandela Trophy.

That is what Virat Kohli and his men will be playing for. That, and the title of another ‘historic’ set of visitors — the first to win a series there.