da betsson： Our correspondent snarls as the traffic does likewise around him, and struggles with limited vegetarian meal options

da spicy bet： Vishal Dikshit03-Feb-2016January 25
To get to Dhaka from Bangalore I had to fly via Kolkata. I wasn’t expecting a cricket conversation right on the first flight. I bump into some movie and TV actors from Kolkata who are returning after a Celebrity Cricket League match in Bangalore. I find myself in a conversation with one of them, who says it’s his first season. Now I feel gutted for missing the first five seasons of the CCL.January 26
A little sleep-deprived, I reach the Shere Bangla Stadium in the morning to watch the India Under-19 team train. A big group of journalists, photographers, security personnel, groundsmen and organisers are busy watching Rahul Dravid, the India U-19 coach. Not sure if anyone else can be recognised, apart from batsman Sarfaraz Khan. I want to get Dravid’s views on the upcoming Indian stars and the team’s preparations. When the team packs up, he’s the first one to head towards the bus. Having met him several times at the ESPNcricinfo office in Bangalore, I expect him to recognise me when he walks past. Walking briskly, at the last second he lifts his eyes to look at the group of Indian journalists, except me, and just nods. Now I know how Pakistani players feel during IPL auctions.After an unimpressive lunch I take a bus to Sylhet. I was told the journey would take four hours. Accounting for traffic I thought it would spill over to five, maybe six. How many does it take? Seven! My laptop runs out of battery, my phone has to be put on airplane mode. Co-passengers fall asleep, I throw some biscuit wrappers on the floor, then pick them up. But nothing helps make it seem like time was actually passing.Fans and security guards outside the team hotel in Sylhet•Vishal Dikshit/ESPNcricinfo LtdJanuary 27
I take deep breaths in quaint Sylhet, away from the pollution, dirt and traffic that rule Dhaka. A CNG (that’s what tuk-tuks are called here) to the scenic Sylhet International Stadium. I bake myself in the winter sun at the ground, watch some Pakistani teenagers make fun of each other, and soon catch the Afghanistan players stroll in. “Let’s get an interview with an Afghan player, there must be some captivating stories from growing up in Afghanistan,” I tell myself. Out walks the captain Ihsanullah. I walk towards him confidently to introduce myself and he squashes my right hand in his the way a butcher would a chicken’s neck before raising his knife.January 28
Fresh and cold morning – much, much colder than Dhaka. The Pakistan-Afghanistan match turns out one-sided. Highlight of the day? The lunch is egg rice, chicken curry, fried chicken, prawn curry and a vegetarian curry. So much variety! Oh, did I mention I’m vegetarian?January 29
I arrive at the team hotel in Sylhet to interview Canada captain Abraash Khan. A hotel employee knocks on the door to ask if we want ice cream. Before my taste buds can jump at the opportunity, Abraash declines the offer. That evening, I’m back at the hotel to talk to Afghanistan legspinner Rashid Khan and he offers to make me some tea in his room. Just when he picks up the kettle, an Afghanistan support staff member knocks and tells Rashid he’d better ask me to leave or the ICC may have an issue. Back to reality and my self-made tea in my hotel room.Pizza base? Pita bread? No, just naan•Vishal Dikshit/ESPNcricinfo LtdJanuary 30
Another match, another one-sided affair. This time Sri Lanka v Afghanistan. The lunch menu is the same too. After the match I want to talk to the Sri Lanka captain, Charith Asalanka, so their manager asks me to turn up near the team dugout after the presentation. I walk along the boundary, do the interview and head back to the press box. A security guard catches me near the sightscreen and says in Bengali: “How are you here, you don’t have the ‘Pitch Access’ accreditation.””Yeah, I was called by the team manager. And the match got over a while back.””But you are not allowed here.””Where?””The field.””But I’m already on the field. Now I want to go back to the media centre, where I’m allowed.””Okay, but you are not allowed here!””What to do now?”*Door opens*January 31
The thought of going back to Dhaka makes me contemplate absconding without telling anyone. But it’s my first international assignment and patience prevails. The 30-minute flight is over in a flash, but the real journey lies ahead. It takes another hour or so to make it from the Dhaka airport to my hotel. After lunch I head to the team hotel in Dhaka, speak to some effervescent Nepali players and then brace myself for the “voyage”. I need to cover about 13km. I get a CNG rather easily. How lucky am I? Well, the journey takes two and a half hours. Average speed? Please do your own math.Sylhet Stadium: a sight for sore eyes after the chaos of Dhaka•BCBFebruary 1
New month but same old Dhaka story. It is the first match I have to cover at the Shere Bangla Stadium, which is a good 12km from my hotel. It usually takes 45 minutes. I leave an hour in advance. Still don’t make it in time. About a kilometre and a half before the ground, the CNG breaks down. The driver pops out of the vehicle, goes to the back and returns in a minute with the axle, showing it off with a smile like he has won a lottery. It is almost time for the first ball. The three of us – the two others are also journalists travelling to the ground from the same hotel – start wading through school children, office goers, shopkeepers spitting on footpaths, muck, dead chickens, and several other unidentifiable things before finally reaching the heavily guarded venue at around 9.15. The India v Nepal match is delayed by half an hour by fog. Time for a .February 2
A rare off day. Well, not quite. The Pakistan and Sri Lanka teams arrive in Dhaka after their league games in Sylhet and the media wants to watch them practise. My focus is on food, though. Shortly after I drag myself to the ground again, some Indian journalists get together for some local food at a restaurant right across from the stadium. Beef, chicken and all that is fine, but the limelight is hogged by the naans. Thicker than the plates we were eating from, they were fluffy, baked to perfection, and resembled the more popular pita breads. A fellow journalist isn’t impressed, though: “Are these pizza bases?”