What will we say, then, when our grandchildren ask us, bats in small hands, as we sit, leafing through Wisden, settled before the fire - "Grandpa, did you really see Viswanath play? Was his square cut really such a wonderful shot? Was he as good as Gavaskar?" What will we say, looking down into those excited faces, just as our grandfathers looked down when we asked of Mushtaq Ali and Lala? What we will we say of GR Viswanath, of "young Viswanath", of a man and a player whom Wisden could never capture with a thousand pages of statistics?

Will we pause for a moment, then clear our throats, then pause again, searching for words? Will we close our eyes, and possibly check a tear or two, and remember warmly and well? And then say, quietly. "Yes, I saw him play. And, yes his square-cut was a wonderful shot. And, yes, again, he was as good as Gavaskar." And then the children will scamper off into the garden, or down the lane or onto the ground to get in a few more minutes of play before the light goes out of the day.