A year ago, exactly, I arrived in Mumbai. On the third day I was there, I decided to go down to the Cross Maidan to try and get a game in one of the many cricket matches going on down there. In Mumbai, when you play cricket, you play properly.

Two groups of men were shaping up to play a match. It was to be eight overs a side, and there were umpires. A man says to me, "You want to bowl?" and throws me the ball. I roll my arm over a few times, and he says, we play match now; you're on my team.

The man's name is Pradeep. Pradeep, like his teammates is dressed in formal white pants, and a white shirt with gold buttons. He, along with his team mates, have removed their nice white shirts and round caps, so they're bare headed and wearing sweat-stained singlets. Usually, I use fake names, but Pradeep is indeed his name.

Pradeep introduces me to his team; he wasn't the captain (Patrick, a younger guy, right arm quick bowler and keen batsman, was in charge of the on-field stuff), but he's organising a team for a tournament in a week's time, for which the first prize was about $600US for the team. That amount is the equivalent of twice the average yearly Indian wage. This is the first of two trial matches.

We won the toss and batted. In the third over, Patrick holed out to mid-wicket, and I was handed a bat. Number Three, I thought, I'd better make some sort of showing! The first ball was a yorker, and I dug it out and fair grazed the bat on the pitch. The opposition laughed. The next ball wasn't quite as full, and I managed two runs to mid-on. The opposition laughed at the Aussie who felt the need to run two. And so on. To illustrate the level of intensity, one of the umpires called my batting partner for a 'short run'. Eventually, a yorker went through me and took middle.

Pradeep gave me a pat on the shoulder, and we soon went into the field. We put the squeeze on in the first four overs, and with two overs to go, the game was effectively won. I was thrown the ball, and had an over. Some kids watching asked if I was Daniel Vettori, funny considering I bowl the same style, wear glasses and played most of my cricket in New Zealand.

After the game, both teams shook hands, and we went to the Sugar Cane Juice cart for some freshly pressed juice, which Pradeep shouted me, as I'd left my wallet at the hotel with Batman. We chatted about cricket, India, his job and family and my other travels.

He offered to give Batman and me a ride to a shop near his next job. I gratefully accepted, and the two of us picked up Batman and headed to the Pashmina Bazaar, hidden in a tiny corner of Mumbai. There was no pressure to buy, and the goods were top notch. Like, Pradeep, this was the real deal.

On the way there, Pradeep told us about his daughter, then eleven, and how she went to school. He was so proud of his little girl for getting an education; it was obviously very important to him. Pradeep is a good man.

The cricket match I played in was between Pradeep's team - the Drivers from The Oberoi Hotel - and their cross-town, friendly, rivals - the Drivers from The Taj Mahal Hotel. These were good, friendly, honest men.

Until this morning, I hadn't read any news since Tuesday. The happenings in Mumbai are shocking and tragic. I really hope that Pradeep, Patrick and the rest of the drivers from both Oberoi and Taj are alive and unharmed. Take care lads. Shabash!