At the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium tonight you had, on the one hand, this: 7,500 security personnel, more than 350 CCTV cameras, 90 checkpoints - with outer, middle, inner and exclusion zones - defence helicopters with commandos doing an aerial recce, three unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV), eighty radiation meters to detect...well, an atomic attack, I suppose.

And on the other hand, you had this: smiling young faces, excitement, dancing, music, teams parading who would all test positive for natural exuberance (with a special word here for the South Africans, many of whom tootled away merrily on the instrument which became world famous - or world-infamous - in the World Cup, the vuvuzela).

Therein lies the paradox of the modern opening ceremony.

Eighty years ago, this competition made its debut in Hamilton, Ontario, The Toronto Star report of 1930 opening ceremony describes "Four hundred athletes from the British Empire, the first coming together of its kind in history, paraded here before a big crowd this afternoon to open the British Empire Games...Newfoundland’s eight men in claret blazers, piped with white, had the honour - as representatives of the oldest colony – of leading the long procession. As they marched round the track they got a big hand."

Eighty years on, the arrival of the 7,000 athletes taking part in the latest version of these Games drew the same basic, supportive response from a big crowd - 60,000 filled the stadium which will form the centrepiece to the 19th Commonwealth Games.

So here was the English team, led by badminton’s Olympic silver medallist and world champion Nathan Robertson (pictured) waving the flag of St George with unmistakeable pleasure. Back in England, Robertson’s 12-year-old daughter was watching on TV with his parents, having had a themed Indian party with curry as the main meal.

Behind him, athletes marched in a state of excitement, holding their video cameras aloft. The mind’s eye is no longer sufficient to record such occasions.

And here, finally, to a predictable tumult of approbation, was the Indian team, all 620 of them, tasked with earning at least 100 medals and finishing second in the overall table, two places higher than they managed in Melbourne four years ago.

According to the commentators, the "oldest democracy in the world" was looking forward to doing "exceedingly well".

Once the teams had settled down into their seats it was time to get onto the business end of the ceremony as the Queen’s Baton, sent on its way down the Mall last year, arrived after a passage through all 71 competing nations.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," intoned the stadium announcer, "the Commonwealth Games baton, which has travelled through many countries, will be brought into the stadium."

Earlier in the evening, television had shown the Prince of Wales and his wife, the Duchess of Cornwall, arriving at the stadium. As he emerged from his sleek black limousine, the Prince adopted his default mode of faint bemusement, as if the task he was being called upon to perform was slightly irregular but he had decided to press on in a spirit of good humour.

Now he stood at the podium, ready to receive the baton, which he placed in its holder alongside his lecturn, only to have it re-adjusted by an official.

He proceeded to pass on the message of goodwill that his mother had placed inside the baton, which expressed the following sentiment: "I firmly believe that when countries can compete in sport together like this it serves as an inspiration to all nations to work together for peace throughout the world."

The message concluded: "I send my very best wishes for what I hope will be the experience of a lifetime."

The Queen may be right in her judgement. But if these Games can manage to transform the image of Delhi from a city which has asked for a responsibility it is not quite able to manage into one which has succeeded in a high ambition, she may prove to be wrong.



The comments on the eve of the opening ceremony from the International Olympic Committee President Jacques Rogge that a successful Games could strengthen India’s ambition - or at least India’s ambition as expressed by the irrepressible if much maligned chairman of their Organising Committee, Suresh Kalmadi - to host an Olympic Games.

Earlier in the evening, Kalmadi had received a massively mixed reaction upon being introduced to the crowd. Judging that there were cheers amongst the boos and whistling, our chairman, dressed in thick military garb with a rainbow of medal ribbons across his left chest, half rose to acknowledge the reaction with a tentative wave before settling back into his VIP seat and mopping his brow with a large handkerchief. His speech later made reference to his mother and father - his two greatest - or his two - supporters.

As for Rogge - thinking about it, what else could he have announced? "It doesn’t matter how well India do here, they’ve got no chance." I think not.

Having said that, this is one of the world’s great cultures. And should Delhi manage to pull these Games out of the fire, if the timing equipment at the swimming venue is installed in time, if the info system manages to provide info, if no prominent athletes fall prey to Cobras or dengue fever, if the natural energy of national triumphs starts to dominate the proceedings as it should - then, maybe it is a serious proposition.

If.

Mike Rowbottom, one of Britain's most talented sportswriters, has covered the last five Summer and four Winter Olympics for The Independent. Previously he has worked for the Daily Mail, The Times, The Observer, the Sunday Correspondent and The Guardian. He is now chief feature writer for insidethegames and will be providing regular reports from the Commonwealth Games in New Delhi. These will be his sixth Commonwealth Games, having covered his first at Edinburgh in 1986.