On Rahul Dravid , the man .

                                               

 The first time I met Rahul Dravid was at Mumbai in 2005-06. The occasion was the inaugural edition of BCCI’s T20 tournament. BCCI’s inter stateT20 tournament is named after the memory of one of India’s master batsmen, Syed Mushtaq Ali. The match was at Wankhede Stadium and one of the teams happened to be Karnataka.

The day before the match at the pre-match meeting, where the two contesting teams meet the umpires and the match referee, Karnataka was represented by their new captain Yere Gowda, as the original captain Dravid was not certain to play. At the time he was leading India and the national team had just returned from a foreign tour and so the Karnataka manager Sudhakar Rao informed us that their original choice as captain, Rahul Dravid, may not be able to arrive on time for the match.

Next morning, before the toss while the umpires and I, as the match referee, were inspecting the pitch, we saw that Rahul Dravid was walking towards the pitch. As he came near, he exchanged pleasantries and then was about to step on the pitch itself. I quickly blurted out, “Are you leading the team in this match?” He shook his head and said, “No.” I smiled and added, “Probably you have forgotten that as a playing member you are not supposed to walk on the pitch. Only the captain has the prerogative.”

Instantly he stopped and said, “I am sorry. Thanks for reminding me.” I replied, “Cannot blame you, Rahul. As the India captain you have got used to walking on the pitch before the match. Anyway, no harm done. Thanks.”

Suddenly the huge frame of Venkatesh Prasad appeared. He thought I was having a confrontation with Rahul Dravid. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his voice at me, “Do you realize that you are arguing with the India captain.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the India captain Rahul Dravid cut him short, “Ref is correct. As an ordinary player I am not allowed on the pitch.”

This is the real Rahul Dravid. A man of courage; a man of character. Courageous enough to accept that he himself was about to make a mistake. He had no qualms in saying so in front of the curator, the umpires and others who were near us at the time. Revealed exemplary character to silence his colleague for being wrong. I feel proud to see that we still have such men in India.

Later that evening, after our match was over I went across to the Brabourne  Stadium , the home of Cricket Club Of India (CCI), to watch another T20 match in progress. As I entered, Dilip Vengsarkar called me over to the seat beside him. On the other side of Vengsarkar was Rahul Dravid. Vengsarkar introduced me to him saying, “Meet my friend Raju.” Straight-faced Dravid replied, “Met him this morning. A very lenient match referee.” When Dilip furrowed his eyebrows to know what had transpired earlier, Rahul smiled and mentioned the incident. Dilip added sauce, “Even when he was playing he behaved like a match ref.”

As the conversation flowed, Rahul mentioned that he had liked reading my book, “The part about cricket being played during Mahabharata days was an eye-opener.”  I was astounded that he had found the time to read my writing. As if this was not enough, he added, “Rajan Bala told me to read your articles. I usually do.” He was so very matter of fact. No ego. No pretence. I came to learn that he was an avid collector of cricket books.

Later that season, again our paths crossed. This time again at Wankhede. The occasion was a Ranji Trophy tie between Mumbai and Karnataka. Before leaving Calcutta, I had taken a first edition Cardus duplicate that I had in my collection for Rahul. My wife Seema was mad at me, “Do you realize that you would be giving the India captain a moth-eaten, old book? What will he think of you?” I had told her before departure, “If any player would realize its worth, that would be Dravid.”

 How correct I was. The moment he had the tattered copy in his hands, he uttered, “Are you sure you want to part with this original edition Cardus? This is a collector’s item. This will be a treasure in my collection.” The cerebral man did not bother about the non-glossy exterior. Here was a man who could buy new books from all over the world. But he understood the value of antiquity.

Another incident revealed the man all the more. At Mysore city Karnataka were hosting Punjab to a Ranji Trophy tie. Manish Pandey, a young talented batter, was playing an excellent innings and remained unbeaten on 80 at the end of the penultimate day, with his team needing around 50 plus to win the tie. While they were doing their cooling-down drills, I called Pandey and asked him the reason for wearing light grey coloured shoes while batting. Skipper Rahul was more embarrassed than the culprit, Pandey. Rahul, however, asked me if it was possible to allow him to continue with those shoes as he had no other pair.

I told Dravid that if he felt it was perfect, I would allow Pandey to continue with those shoes. Rahul replied, “No, no I do not think these shoes are ok. He should be wearing white shoes. Will you please accept if he puts white plaster on the shoes while batting?” I understood the problem, “Fair enough, skip. Out of sheer respect for you, I will allow it.”

Next day Pandey got his hundred and Karnataka won the match. After the conclusion, skipper Rahul came to the referee’s room and thanked me, “You have opened my eyes. I found most of my lads do not possess proper white cricket shoes. I assure you from next match Karnataka players will wear absolutely proper white shoes.” I was stunned to say the least. Here was a captain who had the courtesy to acknowledge even a minor problem and willing to admit it in public. Not many captains would uphold the traditional values of cricket in this manner.

Another incident revealed another dimension of his persona. At Jaipur, Rajasthan Royals was involved in a match with Delhi Daredevils. It was an IPL match in 2012. As match referee, I walked in for the toss. The commentator was Sanjay Manjrekar. He asked me, “Sir, I just want to get the pronunciation of your name correctly. Is it MUKHERJI?” He proceeded to repeat my surname so that he got the pronunciation right. Instantly Dravid, the RR skipper, smiled, “No, his real name is not MUKHERJI. It is MUKHOPADHYAY. ” I was taken aback for a moment, then replied, “Rahul is absolutely right. Since I am in tie and jacket I call myself Mukherji. In dhoti-kurta, I call myself Mukhopadhyay.” With a smile, Rahul wagged his finger at Sanjay meaning I told you so.

The man is really amazing. How did he come to know that the Mukherjis are actually Mukhopadhyays. For a man from Karnataka to know the origin of Bengali surnames is quite astounding. His awareness of the world around goes far beyond the comprehension of most sportsmen. Bright, well-read and articulate, the man is actually one in a million.

Rahul Dravid is a man of gratitude. He is known to have told the world time and again that Keki Tarapore was his coach, even though he has come under the guidance of far more famous cricket personalities. I asked Shahvir Trapore, the international umpire and Keki Tarapore’s son, about Dravid’s relationship with his father.

Shahvir said, “My father was his coach at school. Rahul never let anybody forget that. He kept in constant touch with dad even when he was busy with his very tight international schedule. Dad used to feel a little embarrassed when Rahul often praised him publicly. But Rahul always maintained that the early coaches were the real coaches for they help to lay the foundation. To have a proper structure, you need a solid foundation.” How very true. But how many famous players (Sachin Tendulkar excepted) would acknowledge the fact that they should be indebted to their early coaches? Only a man of rare character would have the broad-mindedness to accept the truth.

Dravid’s greatness as a batsman needs no elaboration. Completely selfless, he even volunteered to keep wickets for India. People who have not played the game would not realize how very difficult it is for a non-regular wicket-keeper to do this role and then to succeed at his primary job of batting as well. Rahul achieved the extremely difficult task most commendably and without a word of annoyance.

As a leader of men he proved himself time and again for India. He won Test series  in West Indies and in England. Not many Indian captains have achieved this rare feat.  Initially with Karnataka and later with Rajasthan Royals, captain Dravid kept his profile low but was highly proactive. He was their captain, their mentor, their coach. He accepted every role with grace and graciousness. Players within his orbit progressed not only as cricketers but also as human beings. All those who have played under him whether for Karnataka or Rajasthan Royals have no qualms in acknowledging that they literally worship him.

Rahul Dravid remains the modest self that he has always been. Never a word out of place. Never an act to raise any eyebrow. Never cared for publicity. Never flirted with any controversy. Never tried to draw any attention to himself. Always remained the selfless, low-profile, intelligent and articulate gentleman. In a cricket world that has lost its innocence, Dravid’s presence was the only consolation. He upheld the spirit of cricket and its traditional values on and off the field. He was probably the last of a rare breed. A great cricketer; a greater human being.