Shyam Sundar Mitra: My role-model has gone but the memory remains…

When cricket connoisseurs including Sunil Gavaskar talk of Shyam Sundar Mitra invariably they remember him as the most deserving middle-order batsman who never represented India.  His career ran along the lines of Veda Vyas’ heroic warrior Karna: forever in neglect, but cannot be disregarded for his outstanding merit.

SS, to his friends and foes, did not believe in joining groups; had no desire to have ‘backers’; hated sycophancy. He was his own man: aware of his capabilities and in complete control of himself. Destiny decided that he be neglected and rejected by the mediocrity around him. But again like Karna, SS stood tall and independent on his own merit.

In a sea of corrupt influences, invariably enough, he paid for his uprightness. While Shivalkar and Goel lost out on a Test place because of the looming presence of Bishan Bedi, SS was tripped for a strange reason. A very domineering national selector hailing from Bengal wanted SS to play for his club in Calcutta. But SS preferred to be loyal to Mohun Bagan AC which he adorned with dignity and pride from 1964 to 1974. The price for his integrity was to remain in oblivion forever. Neither Mohun Bagan AC nor CAB ever came forward to assist him in any way.

SS graced Bengal and East Zone teams for more than a decade. An aggregate of 3058 at 50.13 from 59 first-class matches is a phenomenal feat on uncovered and spinner-friendly Indian pitches of the 60s and 70s. His 7 centuries included two against the might of Bombay of those days. He had two more against Indian Railways in one match as well.

As if this was not enough, he scored a masterly hundred against the great Vinoo Mankad on a matting wicket at Udaipur. Those who thought he was weak against genuine pace got their answer when he notched 98 against the fiery and fearsome West Indies fast bowler Roy Gilchrist who had sent shivers down the spine of our Test batters.

Exemplary concentration, unruffled temperament, cultured stroke-play and an impregnable defence were the hall marks of his skills. His batsmanship was based on classical lines. He preferred the ‘back and across’ movement at the crease but whenever the opportunity arose he would go half-forward and drive on the up. Like the persona, his bat was always straight. That most difficult of cricket strokes – the on-drive off the back-foot – was his copyright trademark and he accomplished it with rare grace. His batsmanship was a visual delight. Handsome of bearing, the chiselled face topped a lithe physique of 6 feet.

SS had a terrific sense of humour: the dry, cultured wit of PG Wodehouse, whose books he would read on tours. Someone once mocked, “Shyamu, tui boddo kaalo.  (your complexion is very dark).” Instantly he smiled, “So would you be, if you were to bat for as long as I do.”

His straight face sarcasm we relished. Once he remarked to a batter, who was out off the first ball he faced, “If you keep batting in this way, your bat will last a lifetime!” His dry wit extended to the ground as well. “Two on his shoulders, one on his waist and one on his lap!” was a typical skipper SS’s way of setting the field for two slips, one short leg and one silly-point!

Bapu Nadkarni’s accuracy made batters impatient and invariably they perished trying to hit him across the line. So SS’s prescription was, “Bapu does not like to be hit; so don’t try to hit him!”

My first real look at him was at Mohun Bagan AC, a club I joined at 17 after my ISC exam. He was our captain. It was a delight to see him use the bat as a violin. Melody flowed as he middled the ball. My impressionable mind realized that this man was different, far ahead of any of his contemporaries.

 I became the Ekalavya to his Dronacharya. Tried to pick up the finer points by observing, evaluating and practising. Subconsciously the style became ingrained. One championship-winning partnership with him against Guha and Doshi taught me more about batting than anything that I had learned earlier.

I reckon SS never took a fancy to me when we were together in Mohun Bagan for about 3 years. Not that he criticized me, but he would never praise. Nothing I did seemed to satisfy him. He seemed to have no time for others. Probably his approach was the correct approach. Why would he come forward with suggestions, when not asked?

Years later, after I got a match-winning 99 against Kapil Dev and Rajinder Goel at Eden Gardens, SS – at the time a Bengal selector – wryly smiled, “Ah! Captain, I see you have got the right role-model. I quite like the style.” That was enough for me. High praise from a man who was unaware that he was my batting idol ever since I first saw him bat.

Yes, Shyamuda, you were my role-model. God has taken you to a better place. RIP.

Riyan Parag: A Boy with a Mission

At a time when very wealthy and very influential former Indian cricketers are desperate to convince the world that they do not charge money from the IPL teams for their work as ‘mentors’ or whatever, one Ahom teenager has taken the sword out of the scabbard and slaughtered the hypocrisy in style and splendor.

One major message of this year’s IPL is the quiet emergence of a rare talent in the form of Riyan Parag. The teenager from Assam, who was a member of the world cup-winning India under-19 team last year, showed the adult cricket world his exceptional class, his repertoire of strokes, the power of his timing and, above all, his quiet confidence for the big occasion. No wonder he has MSD as his role model. Initially coached by his father, Riyan has certainly picked up the right recipe of batsmanship from his India under-19 coach, the unflappable and erudite Rahul Dravid.

In the face of odds, the gutsy young man helped Rajasthan Royals to defeat Mumbai Indians and then followed it with another sterling match-winning performance at Eden. All the supposed ‘international muscles of KKR’ vanished into thin air as the 17 year old Ahom gave a lesson to the recruiting personnel of KKR not to show disrespect to the talents in East Zone. For the record, KKR does not have a single player from the eastern region in its team.

Riyan gives the ball a real wallop. But what delights the connoisseur more is the solid cricketing technique that he possesses. Here is a batsman, who needs encouragement and exposure from the right quarters to be able to serve his national team for years to come. Wonder if our national selectors have even heard of him?

It is high time that our cricket administrators in mainstream India realize the kind of talent that lies in obscure corners of this land, particularly in the much-neglected north-east. These largely-ignored sportspeople from the north-east have time and again proved that even with the slightest of opportunities they can easily upset the apple-cart of their ‘fancied and favoured’ opponents.

Riyan’s father Parag Das was an outstanding all-rounder from Assam in the late 1990s. One of the hardest hitters of the ball, he bowled medium-fast getting his deviation from the proper use of seam. Apart from these qualities, Parag was among India’s best out-fielders in his time. On the electronic media in 1999, it was my well-considered opinion that he should be in the India world cup team to England. For having said this unpalatable truth, I lost my job! Parag’s seam bowling, power-packed stroke-play and exceptional fielding skills would have done the country proud. But then who has the time for a man from the perpetually ignored north-east?

Riyan’s mother Mithu Barooah is a former India swimming sensation. All those gold and silver medals that she won for India and Assam are now only a distant memory. Totally deprived of opportunities in their heydays, both Mithu and Parag decided that they would fight the system with no quarters asked for. Riyan reflects his dad’s image on the field. Wonder if any visionary would appoint Parag as a coach at the national level? Mithu, on the other hand, would make a fantastic sports administrator with her verve, energy, knowledge and a very broad-minded approach to life.

Riyan’s maternal grandfather R P Barooah was a very popular teacher at Don Bosco School in Guwahati in the 1970s. The tea garden owner was also the school’s cricket coach. As a regular columnist and commentator, prolific writer RPda harped on cricket with passion and feeling. Riyan, most certainly, is extremely fortunate to have such an excellent sporting pedigree. For India’s sake, I wish Riyan becomes the vanguard of a sports movement in Assam.

Even after seven decades of India’s political independence, will north-east still remain out of mainstream India?

A Tribute to a Genteel Soul

On Sunday 31^st March, Dipen Datta, a person I deeply revered, expired in his sleep. A memorial service will be held at St Xavier’s on Wednesday, 17^th April, in the evening at 6. Cannot help but share my feelings with my readers, of whom many were well acquainted with this man of charm and feelings.

It took a while for the shocking news to filter in. The wonderful man was gone forever. Not the usual two-minute vanishing act of his for a quick puff. This time he was not to return. No longer would we see his happy, ever-smiling face. No longer would he be acknowledging our innumerable requests. To me, he played the elder brother role to perfection.

Dipenda happened to be a permanent fixture at St Xavier’s ever since he joined the school in the early 1950s. Hailing from a zamindari family of North Calcutta, he excelled at cricket in school, continued his pursuit at college and finally played for Sporting Union, a prominent Calcutta club side which boasted the presence of Test cricketers like Pankaj Roy, Ambar Roy and Subroto Guha among others. Later, when he and his closest friends represented the illustrious Dalhousie Athletic Club for years, they spread cheers all round. Many cricketers would surely agree that it was a pleasure playing with and against him.

He was asked to take charge of the Alsoc office – the association of former students of St Xavier’s Collegiate School – on his retirement from a very successful stint in the corporate world for the better part of three decades. He gave the Alsoc post a distinct reputation with his remarkable skills in man-management. Dipenda became the go-to man for everyone. He was a diligent listener; possessed an analytical mind and would always deliberate before taking firm decisions. His integrity was beyond compare.

A gentleman to the core, he was genteel and civil to all who came across him. Teachers and students, priests and peers held him in the highest esteem. The handsome man with a ready smile was too modest to understand how much he meant to so many. Last November when Xavier’s won the SLOBA cricket tournament, Dipenda had tears in his eyes. He hugged me and gently muttered, “Raju, today I am really, really happy after a long time. We needed this victory.” Never saw Dipenda in that emotional frame ever.

The dignified persona radiated warmth and happiness. In his company people felt relaxed and comfortable. Perpetually low of profile, he brought sunshine to the lives of many but never would he try to be in the limelight himself. With cricket teachers he shared beers at social clubs; enjoyed tarka-roti at dhabas; sipped cha on pavement stalls. He was at ease on all occasions. Every adda of Dipenda would include Xavier’s. He and Xavier’s were inseparable partners.  

To perpetuate his memory, the cricket coaches at Xavier’s have instituted the Dipen Dutta Memorial trophy for the Best Young Cricketer of the Alsoc cricket camp. Whenever I used to rag him about Xavier’s, he would smile and say, “Raju, I know very well that your heart feels just the opposite.” One day about five years back, while having lunch at Calcutta Club at Anupda’s invitation, Dipenda merely said, “If Raju Mukherji does not have time for Xavier’s cricket, who will?” That settled the matter. Egos and worse vanished into thin air. That’s my typical Dipenda, a person I revered and respected.

As a member of distinguished social clubs – Calcutta Club and Calcutta Cricket & Football Club – he was universally popular. The wonderful gentleman was an epitome of etiquette and elegance. A rare individual he was. Not once did he allow anybody to realize the distress that he had to endure throughout his entire life.

Once I drove into a ‘No Entry’ lane and was stopped by a sergeant. Thoroughly cool Dipenda, sitting beside me, smiled at the sargeant and said in his inimitable way, “Please do not fine him. Caution him. He is always in a hurry.” Honestly, I was dazed. So was the sergeant, it seemed. He too burst out laughing and gave me a mild rebuke, “At your age, you should not drive. Please hire a driver!”

Personally, I have lost my elder brother. I have lost a genuine well-wisher. I have a lost a matured guide. The slight stoop of his gave him a stylish gait. Not that he wanted to draw attention, but then he attracted people by his disarming smile and cultured voice. Never have I met a man with such a selfless approach to life.

 Dipenda, wherever you are, we know your soul would be at Xavier’s. Amen.

Ashwin-Buttler issue

If the batter is taking an undue advantage (euphemism for cheating), why is the bowler being blamed? This defies logic. How can one hold the bowler responsible for playing the game according to the laws?

If the umpire was wrong to give the non-striker Jos Buttler out, then the umpire should have been held guilty. If the match referee has not charged Ashwin with defacing the spirit of the game, then how is Ashwin to be blamed?

The issue is very simple. The non-striker in his ignorance, idiocy or cunningness was trying to over-rule the laws. The intelligent bowler outsmarted him. Full stop. No point making a simple issue complex.

Honestly I am not in the least bothered about either of the players involved. Both are professionals and are expected to know the laws as well as to abide by the ‘spirit’ of cricket.

Some former players-turned-critics, especially those who had brought the game into disrepute by betting against their own team and by using dust to change the condition of the ball, are now making a desperate attempt to defend the guilty non-striker Jos Buttler by mentioning words like ‘dozy’ and ‘brain-fade’. These are merely ways and means to show that the white man was not trying to cheat and that the brown man was not ‘sporting’ enough. Silly notions. In this century no intelligent, self-respecting cricket lover would fall for the trap.

My only concern is that Vinoo Mankad’s name is being bandied about for no rhyme or reason. There is little by way of comparison. In 1947-48 when Mankad ran-out Bill Brown, the non-striker, he did it after cautioning him in a first-class fixture between Australian XI and India at Sydney. Mankad again ran-out Bill Brown in an identical fashion in the 2^nd Test match at Sydney. But this time, quite rightly, he did not feel the need to caution Brown again.

Mankad need not have warned the Aussie batter Bill Brown even in the first instance. But he did. Just goes to show the class and the character of the great Vinoo. He remains the finest all-rounder India has produced. In his time – along with Keith Miller – he was the leading all-rounder in the world.

The Aussie captain in that post-war series was none other than Sir Donald Bradman. Far from criticizing Mankad, Sir Don in his book Art Of Cricket went on to defend Mankad’s action of running out Brown in no uncertain manner.

 Let Sir Don take over, “…immediately in some quarters Mankad’s sportsmanship was questioned…For the life of me I cannot understand why. The laws of cricket make it quite clear that the non-striker must keep within his ground until the ball has been delivered. If not, why is the provision there which enables the bowler to run him out?”

That is exactly what cricket is all about. Play hard, but play fair. Brown was cheating and Mankad caught him red-handed. Thanks to Sir Don, Vinoo Mankad received his unstinted support in print. This is the spirit of cricket.

There have been many players and captains who have allowed the opposition to take advantage of the laws to the detriment of their own team’s interest. Magnanimous men like Gundappa Viswanath (Bob Taylor’s caught behind) and Courtney Walsh (1987 world cup) among others, have shown the world that cricketing chivalry is more of an exception rather than the rule. But they all ended up on the losing side!