So my first full tour watching the team has ended in an Australian loss. Not since the late 1980s, when I first thought of this type of overseas adventure, has an Australian side been beaten so badly. But the result didn’t ruin the trip, which has been fabulous and fun, tiring and, occasionally, stomach wrenching.

To prepare for home and clear off the past five weeks, another visit to the hairdresser for a cut and a shave was required this week. The Indian sledging has been relentless all tour – fair play to everybody, especially DP – and it didn’t stop in the salon. “It’s grey,” the stylist said curtly, “colour?” I’ve spotted the white hairs poking through over the past month, but didn’t realise it was that obvious, nor that my only option was to turn to dye. It has been a long trip!

The hairdresser wasn’t convinced by my wish to look distinguished - or stressed - and asked twice more before checking that my beard didn’t also need a change of hue. I hadn’t even spotted those grey bristles! Now clean and relatively hairless, it’s time to get ready to depart.

I don’t think anything summed up India better than the view out my hotel window in Delhi. From there I could see city slums, hundreds of dodging rickshaws, fading buildings and hundreds of happy and busy people, walking through markets, lining up at stalls, or sitting and watching the day go by. As I scanned further away there was a magical mosque in the distance, with its bulbs and minarets pushing to the sky. It was breathtaking and uplifting.

Some days you see the beauty of India, and it moves you. Some days you don’t, and it disturbs you. I look forward to experiencing more of those sensations next time.

	In Australia and England, Ganguly is seen as a man of privilege, someone who clicks his fingers and an army of servants arrives to clip his nails or fan his face © AFP

Unlike most Australians, I like Sourav Ganguly. If he was Australian he’d have been my favourite player at stages over the past decade. Even though I preferred Steve Waugh, I was still amused by Ganguly’s ability to irritate Australia’s on-field Mr Unflustered. Ganguly could melt The Iceman just by turning up late for the toss.

Ganguly is a great tease. If he was Australian he’d be celebrated as a rascal and a larrikin, but as an opponent he’s rude, elitist, prickly, a time waster and serial pest who couldn’t play the short ball. I don’t know why, but I admire him for these weaknesses.

To have appeared in 113 Tests while dealing with short balls as uncomfortably as if he was being shot at by arrows is astounding. The game is hard enough without having to cope with a serious deficiency as well, but Ganguly did it. I didn’t really like his replacing of gloves or protective gear every couple of overs, or his calls for socks, blister pads, face wipes and grapes. Bowling 90 in a day is hard enough without the batsmen joining the turtles with the ball, although it added to Ganguly's character and ate at his opponents.

In Australia and England, Ganguly is seen as a man of privilege, someone who clicks his fingers and an army of servants arrives to clip his nails or fan his face. Maybe his life is like that, but after being dropped as captain and batsman by Greg Chappell, I liked him even more when he had to sweat to come back. Not everything in life was laid out for him.

At a presentation during the week to celebrate his playing achievements, Ganguly spoke about the need to make enemies for the good of India. He talked gently and softly, but with purpose. Of the players I’ve seen, only Shane Warne and Graeme Smith have been as magnetic. When Ganguly enters a room I’m drawn to him and even when he’s said nothing of real interest, I’ve been entertained. During the times when he’s sniped and picked and teased it’s been even better.

Before the start of this series he was defending his form and was reported by a Bengali newspaper to have complained “every Tom, Dick and Harry is playing for India”. For two days he let the story run before issuing a denial. Off the field he was equally good at playing games and scoring points. I will miss Ganguly for his entertainment and his spice. With each year more characters leave the game and as public life becomes increasingly sanitised, I wonder if they can be replaced by the next generation of media-managed clones.

During a quiet first day in the empty stands at Nagpur I was reminded of a nice story from the final day of the Delhi Test. One of the guys in our group was staying with friends in the city and had the services of a servant, who looked after him particularly well.

Instead of a small gift from home or a few hundred rupees, the tourist thanked the man by buying him a ticket for the conclusion of the game at the Feroz Shah Kotla. He had never been to a match before.

It took a few days to hear how things had gone, but it was a success. The servant was happy to have seen Sachin Tendulkar bat, was part of the farewell to Anil Kumble, and had a wonderful time

	Fans look on as the Australian team practise © Getty Images

For the first time in the series there was a seriously energetic vibe from the supporters on a practice day. People lined up, neatly and excitedly, outside the old Vidarbha Cricket Association Ground, and there was a large crowd sitting in one of stands watching the teams train. This was the experience I’d expected at every venue, and it was fabulous to see everyone expectant about the deciding game of the series.

Outside the ground a small boy was lifted up, probably by his brother, so he could peer over a fence and spot one of the Indian players entering the team bus. Happy children were everywhere, knowing their heroes were so close. But they weren’t just interested in the big names. As I walked out of the stadium people shouted “Australia” and little boys ran up to shake my hand. It was fun seeing their cheerfulness and the love of cricket in their eyes. With one week to go on the tour, it was a satisfying surprise.

What is uncertain is whether this hype will translate into large numbers at the new ground, which is about half an hour outside the city. Only weekly tickets are being sold, limiting the options for those who want to go for a day, and nobody seems to know how many spectators will attend. After the fun of the morning training sessions, I hope it will be a lot. This series deserves it.

My favourite section of the weekend papers is the matrimonial advertisements. The crisp descriptions sell the person's best attributes and outline their perfect-partner demands. It must take hours to work out what to put in to make you most attractive.

They range from the factually exaggerated (“Sweet natured veg, caring, soft spoken, 51 yrs [looks 42], perfect health) to the detailed (“Sober, slim, beautiful Manglik bride for Punjabi Saraswat Brahim chief office in the merchant navy) to the grand (Posh S.Delhi b’ness family seeks a b’ful convent edu girl).

I got married four years ago; fortunately without the need for advertising. That way I wouldn’t have had to embarrass myself with something like: “26 yr old going grey [looks 22 but feels 45], questionable sense of humour, capable of offending people without trying, arts degree. Age, height, religion no barrier.”