Sanath Jayasuriya and Harbhajan Singh catch up as it continues to pour © AFP

Never mind it had been raining before the toss, the covers had been on for hours, and that there was hardly any chance that play would happen. The Sri Lankan spectators in the stands at the Premadasa were here to have a good time.

Running an inventory of the cricket grounds across the globe I've been too, it was hard to rival the interactivity of the fans at the Premadasa. This wasn't up there in the pantheon of pre-game rituals - Liverpool fans singing their anthem in a match against Chelsea – or fan-to-fan banter – a Red Sox v Yankees game at Fenway Park – but in cricketing isolation it was something else, because not a ball was bowled. I imagine it can only be bettered in the Caribbean.
I've seen spectators in Chennai, Mumbai, Delhi and London leave when it rains. Fans are a part of any game, and the passionate ones at the Premadasa took plenty of attention off the lack of cricket. In a fantastic conglomeration of hip twists, knee jerks, claps and elbow shaking, the entire Premadasa came to life.

A bevy of beauties swayed to live music from an impromptu brass band, the beer flowed, and a good time was had by all. People love seeing themselves on television. The cameras panned across the ground and that only sent the fans into a tizzy. Girls batted their eyelids, feigned beauty-pageant waves, high-fived each other; men and boys broke into dance; others showed off tee shirts with graffiti; some covered their faces momentarily before getting up to do something funny; and one elderly lady in a sari even did her own take on the Funky Chicken. Others mingled around at the Keels kiosk, munching on pizza or fish rolls, sipping beer, even as the rain dripped down and they dodged big puddles. Snack vendors went through the bleachers, serving soft drinks and hot dogs with a smile.

Unlike the Indian team, who had returned to their hotel, the Sri Lankan players sat around on the balcony, lapping up the festive mood. That only added to the crowd's vigour. When Jade Roberts, Sri Lanka's physiotherapist, tried to dodge the big screen the crowd started chanting for him to come back, and he sheepishly grinned. Cue hysteria from the ladies. Paul Farbrace, the assistant coach, wasn't as obliging, but did get a kick out of seeing himself on the screen.

The highlight, however, was when one sharp cameraman panned in on Lasith Malinga in the stands. The crowd went berserk as Malinga flashed his hundred-watt smile and waved back, and when his Sri Lankan team-mates on the dressing room balcony saw him, they engaged themselves in a bit of banter, communicated via the giant screen.

Leaving the confines of the musty press box to lap up the mood, I caught a hold of a born-and-bred Sri Lankan fan, and two converts. Radhi, a National University student, was dancing herself silly when I approached her. "This is what we Sri Lankan fans are about, partying man!" she said, before grabbing an inflatable Idea Cup baton and throwing it up in the air. "I've been to so many games, and I love the atmosphere. We make it what it is!"

Nick and Aidan, two Englishmen living in Colombo for a few years, are now Sri Lankan fans. Wearing Sri Lanka jerseys, they too danced with the crowds and thoroughly enjoyed the beer and hot dogs. They didn't think it compared to a football crowd, but said they made it to most of the venues when Sri Lanka played one-day internationals.

The rain did not dampen anyone's spirits. There was not one person who wasn't smiling. The fans continued to trickle even after the toss was delayed and, once enthused by those there before them, didn't leave. Not a bad way to spend a Tuesday afternoon at all. Let the beat play on.

	When you're from India, 'Do you know Shah Rukh Khan?' features prominently on the most-asked-question list © AFP

Hindi films share pretty much equal space in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, and you won't have a hard time striking up a conversation about them. Whereas the language (Hindi or Urdu) is the common denominator in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh (to a lesser extent, though some people will understand you a little), in Sri Lanka it is impossible to strike up a conversation in that form. If you speak Tamil it's not that difficult, but there is not a trace of Hindi spoken anywhere.

Hindi films aren't as popular in Sri Lanka as in the rest of the subcontinent, but they are shown in select theatres. Wasantha, who works at a barbershop, said the fashionable clothes, beautiful leading men and women and catchy music are among the reasons he and his friends watch the odd Hindi film, even though they don't understand what is happening on screen.

Images of Hindi stars are prevalent in smaller sectors of Colombo, and you can find pirated and original DVDs fairly easily. Posters of Indian actresses are plastered across stores here that sell pirated DVDs, and over the back windows of tuk-tuks and commuter vans.

Take the scenic drive from Colombo to Galle, dotted with palm trees and white breakers, and you see countless pictures of Hindi film star mugs atop grocery markets, unisex salons and canteens. These are all unsolicited, but that's the norm in the subcontinent.

It's not as noticeable on the drive to Dambulla – Hillary Duff and Maroon Five frontman Adam Levine dominate this 205km stretch, oddly enough – but Hindi film songs blared regularly from the bar television and at the front desk of my hotel there. The bartender was keen to know if Bombay was really a fantasy world called Bollywood. I had to assure him it was not. He didn't believe me.

Sitting at a restaurant in Galle I couldn't help notice a Mithun Chakraborty potboiler from the 80s dubbed in Sinhalese. On a tuk-tuk drive to the Dambulla stadium, I heard a Sri Lankan pop song interspersed with lyrics from the old Hindi song 'Dil sachcha aur chehra jhoota' ('The heart is true, the face a lie'). The driver couldn't tell me why, but knew all the words and hummed along enthusiastically. Another time, it was Himesh Reshammiya's tracks which blared, and the driver seemed very knowledgeable about the music superstar's 'inspired' tracks (read: directly lifted from Arabic tunes). Yet no one could understand what these lyrics meant. I had to translate on a few occasions. But every one of these individuals loved the music.

Out for dinner with two friends during the third Test in Colombo, we were approached by two young college students and joined in a game of darts. As the conversation progressed and they found out the three of us were from India, one of them started asking about the overdose of melodrama in Hindi films. He had seen a few films, and wanted to know why so many of them had the line 'Mujhe maaf kardo, pitaji' ('Please forgive me, father') and what it meant. His friend wanted to know why Shah Rukh Khan is so popular. They both liked the leading ladies, needless to say.

When I say that I'm from India and here to cover the cricket, the conversation starts to flow. From the tuk-tuk driver to the hotel concierge to waiters and convenient store clerks, the first two questions are almost always 'why is Yuvraj Singh not in the Test team' and 'do you know Shah Rukh Khan?'.

To the first, my answer is often open for debate, and since I've met Shah Rukh twice, I'm asked a dozen questions about his attitude and stardom and choice of roles. Even a member of the Sri Lankan team, when he heard I had grown up in India, asked me if I'd met the Indian cine star. These conversations can last from 20 seconds to 20 minutes, depending on where I am and what my time constraints are.

None of them have been dull, however.

	Some people like to go to resorts, others hiking, many more to the beaches, but for Abhishek Sudhir there's no better vacation than following India © Cricinfo Ltd

Abhishek Sudhir was born in 1986, the year India won a Test series in England. Twenty-one years later, when they broke a drought with a draw at The Oval, thereby securing a memorable 1-0 series win, Abhishek was there, and savoured the moment.

It was his first Test outside Bangalore.

"It wasn't cheap," he says, "but it was definitely worth it ... a good way to start. I had always dreamed of watching a series in England."

Abhishek has been watching live cricket since 1992, from the time Vinod Kambli 'brownwashed' England. That's when he caught the bug and it's been a passionate last 17 years, but one moment started a memorable journey.

After watching Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Sreesanth salvage a draw in the first Test between India and England at Lord's last summer, on television with his father in Bangalore, Abhishek decided he had to go back to England for the rest of the series. The next morning he walked straight into the airlines office and bought himself a ticket back to London, cutting short his vacation in India by two-and-a-half months.

"My mom was disappointed about that, but she understood that I just needed to do that," he says. He landed in Birmingham a couple days later and hopped onto a train to Trent Bridge and didn't miss a ball of that gripping Test.

Abhishek has been in the UK for the last three years. He finished studies at the University of Birmingham and hopes to secure a law degree from the University College London in September 2009. He balances studies with part-time jobs, including selling food at kiosks during football matches and working at nightclubs, but has been financially supported by his family. They have been fully supportive of his fanatical following of the Indian team.

He stays and travels cheap when touring, to minimise his costs. "Some of the places I stay at go from bad to worse, but it's got to be done. You put up with small things for the bigger joys. I'm bloody lucky, and I need to cherish such moments. I'm getting to do what I love."

Some people like to go to resorts, others hiking, many more to the beaches, but for Abhishek there's no better vacation than following India. "A cricket match is an experience," he says. "You have to get there early and leave late. You live every ball, you live the conditions."

Abhishek is not a part of the Bharat or Swamy Armies, and is quick to emphasise that he doesn't want to be Percy Abeysekera or a 'Chacha Cricket' from Pakistan. "I had a couple drinks with Percy," he says. "That was fun. But I'm my own man."

Strong words from a 22-year-old. But so much of what he has experienced has shaped him. On his first day in England, he walked into Northfield, outside Birmingham, and had a piece of chicken thrown at him. "A baptism by fire," he says with a smile, "and then to see Zaheer Khan get a five-for was brilliant. That was my own jellybean incident."

Abhishek paid ₤85 on day four of The Oval Test, sitting in the Bedser Stand. "If you've got to pay that much you're pretty well off. There was this Indian fan, a lady, who was criticising Rahul Dravid's decision not to enforce the follow-on. Being a Bangalore boy myself, I turned around and told her 'We haven't won a series in England since 1986, I've waited all my life to see this happen, so what if Dravid doesn't enforce the follow-on? Twenty years from now no one's going to remember Dravid's decision. This is the new India.'"

Abhishek recalls fantastic scenes after the game. "I patted each one of the players on the back as they walked up the stairs, and I even got a hand on the series trophy when Dravid held it up in celebration," he says. "I'd come too far, I just had to do it. There were only a few thousand Indians in the ground but it was jam packed. There was Bollywood music blaring everywhere. We took it to the road then, when the players came out to their bus. Police had tried to block off the whole road but we Indian fans had to get to the players. A few Punjabis had dhols and we all danced the night away."

	The cricket fan in Abhishek Sudhir was awoken when he watched live on television, Vinod Kambli’s heroics against England in 1992 © Getty Images

Going to Australia became his next goal, and he flew into Melbourne on Christmas Day, not having slept for 40 hours. He shared a room with five Indians from Chennai, in St Kilda. The Boxing Day Test at the MCG was brilliant despite India's big loss, he says, but the feeling of being part of 70,000 fans – 20,000 of them boisterous Indians – was something he will never forget. "I've been to Old Trafford [the football stadium], Wembley, Lords's and a few Arsenal and Barcelona games, but walking into the MCG was something else. India won an Olympic Gold in hockey there in the fifties, thanks to Dhyan Chand ... and barefoot."

Abhishek's face flashed across the big screen when Anil Kumble snapped a century opening stand, but it wasn't the last. He got into a couple of good-natured fights with Australian fans, but has no bad feelings. Abhishek also met a childhood hero, Merv Hughes, on whom he modelled his bowling action, and that's when it hit him: he was in Australia.

He didn't make the epic Perth Test, but was there in Sydney for that controversial match, which sapped every emotion out of him. He even slipped in with the media and sat around till 3am, when the players emerged from their hearing with the match referee. He even got a few scenes in an upcoming Hindi film, Victory, which was shot at the SCG. He has even been interviewed by Channel Nine's Simon O'Donnell. He has countless numbers of pictures from Australia, which he will keep for life.

Here in Sri Lanka, he is the only Indian fan at all the Tests. In Galle, India's national flag went missing and Abhishek offered his to the team. It was a proud moment seeing his flag, made from khaadi and purchased in Bangalore, flying from the Indian team's dressing room.

Abhishek is also a qualified Level 1 umpire for Under-15 matches in England, having successfully passed his test, and stood in a Derbyshire v Warwickshire match before flying off for this series. "You never know, one day one of those kids you gave out could become an England star," he says.

Abhishek wants to focus on his career, but has already bought tickets for the second World Twenty20, to be held in England later this year, and plans to do so for the Ashes too. "I'm a bit of a novice," he says, "but I will always make time for cricket."

	A bird’s-eye view of the P Saravanamuttu Stadium © Cricinfo Ltd.

As I stepped into the P Saravanamuttu Stadium (PSS), nested along a discreet road by the name of Lesley Ranagala Mawatha ('avenue' in Sinhala) in Colombo, it was just as I had read and heard it to be. After the impressive SSC, home to Sri Lanka Cricket, and the Galle Stadium, which is open all around with virtually no raised structures barring the pavilion, allowing passers-by to take in the cricket, the PSS was small and unobtrusive. Its setting is akin to something of a club venue, with low stands and grassy banks, and the ivy-covered scoreboard.

The media had yet to descend on the venue, being an optional day for the players to have nets. I had planned to meet Kumar Sangakkara here, but he hadn't arrived and so I walked around the stadium to bide my time.

What first caught my attention were the massive honours' boards, listing cricket and hockey players to have been produced here. The PSS is host to the Tamil Union Cricket and Athletic Club, inaugurated in 1899 and which has produced a superstar by the name of Muttiah Muralitharan. The ground used to be called the Colombo Oval but was changed to its current name, after Paikiasothy Saravanamuttu, the Tamil Union's president from 1958-50 and chairman of committees from 1935-50.

There is history at the PSS. It hosted Sri Lanka's first Test, against England in 1982, and has been a regular on the Test match rota. In 1985, it was the venue for Sri Lanka's first-ever Test win, over India. But the PSS is famously remembered as the ground that Don Bradman stepped on en route to England in 1948 during one of Australia's four 'whistle-stop' tours. It is in fact the only place in Asia where Bradman played. The Australians played in Colombo against the All Ceylon team on April 2, 1930, and Bradman was out hit-wicket for the first ball bowled by NS Joseph, playing in his debut match. This is one of only two occasions that Bradman got out hit-wicket. On March 27, 1948, a crowd of about 20,000 gathered at the Colombo Oval to see Bradman play for the last time in Sri Lanka. He only made 20, but he was well appreciated.

After Muralitharan, the PSS' most famous son is Mahadevan Sathasivam, whom Gary Sobers called "the greatest batsman ever on earth". He has a stand named after him, and inside the bar there are enlarged black and white pictures of him batting and walking out for the toss with Bradman.

Ranil, in charge of the construction happening in the new bar at the Sathasivam Stand, tells me that his grandfather played here and collected "about 100 letters from the Don" compared with "just 13 for Greg Chappell", which were handed over to the Bradman Museum in Australia.

There are other musty pictures in the room, but the ones which stand out are the two captains walking out, one of Bradman coming to the crease, head and eyes bowed in appreciation, and a snapshot of the first Paikiasothy Saravanamuttu Trophy winners of 1950-51, the Division A Ceylon Cricket Association. The bar was a touching addition to a ground that, without spectators or players, seemed very much at ease with its low-profile appearance.

Other facilities are on offer, such as tennis, badminton, squash and swimming, but the PSS will always be known for its rich tradition of cricket. After two contrasting matches at the SSC and Galle, the series, tantalisingly poised, now moves to the PSS. It could not have got a quainter setting for it.

	The inmates of Boosa prison get to work © Cricinfo Ltd

They caught my attention during the first session, occupying a majority of the roofed section near midwicket at the Galle International Stadium which seats a few hundred spectators. From afar, in white t-shirts and khakhi shorts, they looked like a group of oversized school students cheering heartily as Virender Sehwag laced the ball across the turf their way. On closer inspection it was evident that they weren't students. For a second I thought they could be off-duty cadets. The dress-code was common to those seen around various cantonments on the subcontinent.

But when a brief but fierce shower lashed the stadium during the lunch interval, they all jumped up in unison and grabbed the covers. This surprised me, as I had seen the Galle ground staff (white UltraTech Ceylinco-branded white tees and black pants) in action the day before this Test. I then learned that they were inmates from the nearby high-security Boosa prison.

More than 125 prisoners running across the ground covering the square at a live cricket match? With spectators and players present? I was taken back and so sought out head curator Jayananda Warnaweera. "They have special security guards to monitor their every move, so it is nothing to worry about," he told me. "These are inmates guilty of petty crimes, nothing too serious. We see it as benefiting us and them."

This is an initiative taken by the local cricket authorities at the Boosa detention camp. "We approached the prison officials, on our part as local cricket administrators, to assist with ground maintenance," Warnaweera said. "This is not the first time they have been called on to support the ground staff at a cricket match. They were here during the England Test last winter and have been called upon when cricket has been played here, though they were not part of the rebuilding of the stadium after the catastrophe of the 2004 tsunami. They also help out at other functions and construction now and then."

The inmates are driven to the ground early in the morning and taken back at night, after play. They sit together in one section and there is plenty of security, both police and navy, watching over them. Each of the inmates is provided with breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as tea. And, of course, as Warnaweera pointed out, the opportunity to watch live international cricket is special.

I was unable, for security purposes, to speak to one of the individuals. So I looked on as they took to their task. The inmates were remarkably efficient, mingling with the regular ground staff and making sure every inch of the ground was covered. I noticed no apparent tension between the inmates and the regulars. They yelled, grunted, laughed as one. They took orders from Warnaweera and did nothing to aggravate him. It was rather efficient, and added a human touch to a day that was a great advertisement for Test cricket.

	Howzat: Kumar Dharmasena is now an umpire © Photosport

With a heavy shower having delayed the resumption of play after lunch at the Nondescripts Cricket Club, I took the opportunity to walk across the soggy grass outside the boundary line. Percy Abeysekera, the famous fanatical Sri Lankan supporter, has engaged a few India players and some local and visiting fans with his jokes and antics – he waves his hands exaggeratedly, slaps hands, and even breaks into a cooing sound as Sachin Tendulkar comes out on the players' balcony.

But I pass on and make my way towards a man sitting silently against a white wall in the shade 50 meters away, head bent forward, arms resting on knees, far away from the madness. It is Kumar Dharmasena, the former Sri Lankan offspinner, now an umpire. He cuts a calm picture, crisp white shirt and black pants and tennis shoes, and extends a firm handshake.

Dharmasena retired from competitive cricket in 2006 to concentrate on a new career as an umpire. He has been in the news recently, and controversially, for being elevated by Sri Lanka Cricket's (SLC) umpires committee to the 2009-10 ICC international panel. Dharmasena is not keen to discuss this, but readily talks about his interest in this angle of cricket.

"To be honest, in the latter part of my cricketing career I thought about coaching," he says. "But umpiring was also an ambition and it sounded really exciting and challenging, so I umpired in a few small matches. It worked really well for me, was enjoyable and I figured, why not pursue this after retirement?"

However, very few former Sri Lankan cricketers have taken to umpiring after retiring. Dharmasena doesn't feel there's any lack of opportunities for retired cricketers, or lack of support from Sri Lanka Cricket. Some, like Arjuna Ranatunga and Hashan Tillakaratne, have ventured into politics, and others into commentary, and Dharmasena isn't worried about employment after retirement.

He reveals that after his initial officiating stints in the Sara trophy matches he was encouraged by his former Sri Lanka and Bloomfield Cricket and Athletic Club team-mate Roshan Mahanama, now an ICC match referee, to stand in the Premier competition. "Apart from my close friend, I was really backed by the ICC, which wants more former cricketers to come on as umpires," says Dharmasena. "That's the main reason."

A disciplined bowler who complemented Muttiah Muralitharan's attacking style and contributed to Sri Lanka winning several one-day tournaments, Dharmasena used to appeal vociferously. How did it feel now, standing behind the stumps and having bowlers vehemently appeal repeatedly? "Umpiring came very easy to me," he says matter-of-factly. "If you've played cricket at the higher level, especially as a bowler, you adapt easily. You just know where the bowler is coming from, you know what his tricks are. Being an offspinner, I used to appeal a lot and now I enjoy being asked questions. It tests you."

Dharmasena shyly denies any heated incidents between himself and an international umpire during his playing days, but does recall one occasion. "I was bowling against Australia and the umpire was one of my coaching instructors later on, Peter Manuel. He ruled Andrew Symonds out lbw but recalled him with permission from Marvan Atapattu [replays indicated bat hit ball first]. That was tough for me as a bowler, but in umpiring you have to get it right. You do make mistakes. You need to move on."

But have any players made remarks about his umpiring, especially after he's turned down an appeal. "No, no, not yet," he laughs, "and I'm thoroughly enjoying my life as an umpire. So far, so good."

Being a former international spinner, Dharmasena is excited by the future of Sri Lankan spin. "Ajantha Mendis has been exciting, hasn't he? But there are others, plenty of them. Young spinners will come through the ranks. We have pretty good back-up, you will see."

Dharmasena may have played in Muralitharan's shadow, but as an umpire he wants to make a name for himself.