Syed Mushtaq Ali           

The first time I saw Syed Mushtaq Ali was at the Eden Gardens in the “Defence Fund Match”, which was held following the India-China war in 1962. At the time in the early 1960s, Mushtaq Ali was nearing 50 and most certainly was out of cricket for more than a decade.

In our childhood days, I had heard of Mushtaq Ali’s magnificent exploits from my father and uncle Tarun, who used to play club cricket in Calcutta. They would mention how he would step out of his crease to even fast bowlers and glance or cut with ease. That was supposed to be his trademark stroke.

To be honest, it was difficult to believe that such a stroke was possible. Why should a batsman step out to a fast bowler? And even if he did, why would he do so to glance or cut the ball?  It just did not make sense. It sounded incredible. I used to think that since my father and uncle belonged to Mushtaq Ali’s generation, they were merely exaggerating the hero worship of their idol.

Now, I was watching the 50 year old former opener against the fastest bowler in the world at the time, Roy Gichrist of West Indies!  A man of immense pace and ferocious nature. As Gilchrist, arms flailing, thundered in to deliver, Mushtaq Ali actually stepped out of his crease! He must have stepped out at least two yards!

Gilchrist, flabbergasted, did not release the ball. He ran down the pitch to Mushtaq Ali’s end, glared at him for a while and made a sign of the cross on Mushtaq Ali, as if marking the target before turning back to bowl the next ball. Mushtaq Ali merely smiled and made a gesture of flicking a speck of dirt from his fluttering silk shirt.

The whole episode was the height of showmanship. But this was no theatre. A spark had been ignited between the world’s fastest bowler and the world’s most adventurous batsman. The stark reality of antagonism was palpable. The crowd was on the edge of their seats. We realized that there would be no quarters given; certainly none asked for. The intervening moment throbbed with excitement: a fuming Gilchrist walking back to the top of his distant bowling mark; and Mushtaq, nonchalant and graceful, leaning on his bat for support.

The next ball from the fearsome Gilchrist scorched the earth but the old man was again out of his crease in no time and flicked the rising delivery off his chest over square leg to the fence. It was a combination of raw courage, superlative co-ordination of hand and eye and sense of adventure.

I had seen enough. Realised there and then, the reason for generations of cricket lovers to idolize Mushtaq Ali. He was not only a marvellous batsman, full of strokes and audacious nature. No, no, he was much more. For him cricket was not only a game, but an adventure. An adventure to be enjoyed and to be lived to the full. If the adventure did not end in glory, there was no failure involved. It was just a matter of challenge.It was the sense of attempting the impossible that set him apart from others. Never before or since has a batsman stepped out to the fastest of bowlers to cut the ball or to glance or to flick. None would dare because it was risky. In fact that was precisely the reason why Mushtaq Ali patented that stroke of his: because it was difficult to execute and because it was risky even if executed properly.

In the 1970s I played against his son Gulrez Ali in Duleep Trophy matches. He had his father’s easy bearing, relaxed smile and cultured manner. There, however, the comparison ended because there could not be another graceful and gracious Mushtaq Ali, not even among his own progeny.

In 1993 Mushtaq Ali had come at the invitation of the Voluntary Blood Donors’ Association to meet the blood donors at Eden Gardens, of whom I happened to be one. I had taken a copy of his autobiography Cricket Delightful and requested him for his signature. Flashing a wide smile, he put down his signature and wrote, “Hope one day you play for India.” It was very embarrassing and so I told him, “Sir, I am 43 and have given up active cricket.”

Without any hesitation he smiled again, “You never know. They might call you for the India Veterans XI.” Believe it or not, by the end of that year I was actually in the India Veterans team.

After the blood donation camp was over, I invited Mushtaq Ali to the CAB indoor stadium to meet the Bengal Under-16 team members, who were my wards. There even before we could even request him, he volunteered to bat! He was nearing 80 at the time. Still ramrod straight and without an iota of excess fat, his statuesque bearing evoked instant admiration. Most of the bats he found rather heavy, as contemporary bats are. Finally he picked up a comparatively light bat and was ready to face the bowling without any protective gear. I asked an off-spinner to bowl. Again he stepped out of his crease and this time he cut the ball with immaculate timing!

 It was not the rapier thrust of a cut. No, it was a whipping action of steely wrists. Simply amazing the stroke was. At the age of 80 in totally alien conditions how did he manage to time the ball is beyond my comprehension. But he did it. We saw it and were mesmerized. Never before had he played under artificial lights. Never before had he played on artificial surface. Yet he revealed to us what genius really was.

Later, I requested him to advise me and my trainees. The modest man said, “My philosophy is enjoy your cricket and give enjoyment to others. I have nothing else to say.” It was brilliant. Just brilliant. In a nut-shell he told us what sport was all about.

Mushtaq Ali’s contribution to cricket and cricketers can never be judged by statistical facts and figures. He belonged to a different genre. A breed that evoked passionate love for the game among cricket followers. The top two of the rare breed most certainly would be Keith Miller and Mushtaq Ali. They risked their fame and fortune to give entertainment to generations of cricket lovers. They never cared for statistics although their talents achieved phenomenal popularity.

Both Miller and Mushtaq share a rare platform. They were brought back into the national side by the direct intervention of cricket lovers. Keith Miller, at the time the leading all-rounder of the world, was dropped by the Australian selectors which included Sir Don, from the South African tour of 1949-50. The press and public outcry at the injustice reverberated all over the world, particularly in Australia. Later the Australian selectors had to bow down to public opinion and reinstate him when one player, Bill Johnston, was injured during the tour.

So with Mushtaq Ali. More than 70 years ago at Calcutta he was dropped by the national selectors, one of whom was Duleepsinhji. The emotional Bengalees were up in arms. They demonstrated in front of Eden Gardens holding placards proclaiming: “No Mushtaq, no Test”. This was against Hasset’s Australian Services team in 1945. Mushtaq Ali was promptly brought back to his rightful position in the XI. This is indeed unique. Never before or since in the annals of cricket have we had a player brought back into the playing XI because of public outcry. Such was the love and admiration that cricket lovers had for the magnificent man.