Tribute to Goel Bhai

Even in death, Rajinder Goel has remained behind the screen. His untimely departure was not adequately ‘covered’ in the media. In life too he was destined to remain in the background.

Normally it is believed that Bedi’s presence kept him and Padmakar Shivalkar out of the Indian team. But that is not the complete picture. For the discerning cricket follower knows that when Bedi was dropped on ‘disciplinary’ grounds, Goel was shelved in favour of Narasimha Rao, a leg-spinning all-rounder, and Dhiraj Parsana.

Later in 1979 when Bedi was finally omitted, Goel was still at the top of his bowling form. But he was overlooked as Dilip Doshi came in. The sad truth is that never did the national selectors realize the true worth of Rajinder Goel. He was destined to remain constantly under the shade no matter whoever was brought into focus.

Rajinder Goel’s fanatastic statistical figures were never given any consideration by the national selectors, although the cricketers who faced him on the field of battle knew the worth of the warrior. He was a team-man, whatever the situation, whatever the conditions. Never had a single selfish bone lodged in his body. Whichever team he represented could count on him to be the stock bowler as well as the match winner.

 Once when I complimented his Haryana captain Dr Chadha, the latter – another gentleman in the truest sense – replied, “With Goel Paaji around, it makes our job easier.” What a compliment from a captain at least seven years his junior. So very well deserved, not only as a great spinner but as a human being. Every captain of Goel’s beginning from Tiger Pataudi to Bishen Bedi to Kapil Dev had the highest regard for this outstanding, left-arm orthodox spinner.

Although his statistical figures far exceeded all his contemporaries, there is always a danger that his intrinsic value of his bowling skills would be submerged by the awesome records of his. The genuine truth is that he was a ‘captain’s bowler’. He would volunteer to do the toughest job for the sake of the team. He would not shirk any responsibility. He would not try to put pressure on the younger men who led him.

As a person, he was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. Perpetually smiling, ever ready to help others, he never gave the impression that he was an opponent! Once at Eden he caught me off his own bowling for 99. While walking back, I heard him say, “Raju, wish you got the single.” Knowing him, I know he meant it.

His son Nitin, a former Ranji Trophy cricketer, is a young man I admire for his abilities and bearing. Here is a sincere person who has been doing wonderful work as a BCCI match referee. I am hopeful that conscientious Nitin would soon be considered for higher honours.

At Feroze Shah Kotla against North Zone in 1972, I made my first-class debut. In a very low-scoring encounter East Zone won against an attack comprising Madanlal and Mohinder along with the spinners skipper Bedi, Gokul Inder Dev and the evergreen Rajinder Goel. After the match concluded, Bishen and Goel came to our room to congratulate. What a lovely gesture from such wonderful cricketers.

Both Bishen and Goel Bhai would invariably and sincerely maintain that the other person was the better bowler. I would hate to compare among the best. I would only add that they were at par with each other as the archers Karna and Arjuna were. If Karna was allowed to take part in the archery contest, who knows what shape the Mahabharata would have taken…

A marvellous cricketer. An impeccable gentleman. His memory would linger. He was at peace with the world on earth. So would he be in Heaven.

Obituary of Vasant Raiji

Vasant Raiji is no more with us. The great soul has gone but his writings will remain forever.  He has been a genuine historian of Indian cricket. Concentrating on knowledge and integrity, Vasantji did not need any external support of degrees and ornamentation. Not shackled to any media group or to any sponsor, the qualified chartered accountant charted an independent path of sincere research and freedom of expression. He did not need to impress or to decry any individual or institution.

He was a hero to me for his meticulous work on Indian cricket. His authoritative book ‘India’s Hambledon Men’ is certainly the finest of his various publications. He preferred the company of serious cricket writers and in his final years found in Makarand Waingankar an ideal person to interact with.

Although cricketers are notoriously weak in cricket history, Vasantji happened to be a glorious exception. Following his prominence as a first-class cricket, he developed himself to be among the prominent cricket historians in our country. His research on Indian cricket is at a different level to others.

He was denied recognition in his own land. At a time when copyists are reaping awesome benefits, the treatment meted out to him remains a matter of shame. His life of over 100 years has been full of education and enterprise. Vasantji’s work will gain importance as the years go by.

I believe he was a fantastic conversationalist. For a man of his wide spectrum of knowledge he surely must have been. How I wish I was able to establish contact with him during my frequent visits to Mumbai. But destiny willed otherwise. The person I respected the most among cricket historians is the person whom I failed to reach. A regret that will only increase with time.

Vasant Raiji was a contemporary of Vijay Merchant. He was an excellent batsman, good enough to represent Bombay and Baroda in the Ranji Trophy championships in the 1940s. Although he could not make the final XI of the Hindu team in the Pentangular, he was capable enough to be considered in the reserves squad.

He was very highly regarded by men of the prominence of DB Deodhar, Vijay Hazare, Polly Umrigar and Raj Singh, among others. His authorship was based on exemplary research and independent analysis. He was very mucha man of the world, yet not quite in it. He enjoyed companionship but hated flattery.

The best compliments would be offered to him by the copyists who would publish from his ‘works’ without acknowledging the man. He would best be remembered by his writings which will be copied and recopied by various sources without giving the person any credit. He will forever loom in the background of every author who tries to write on India’s early cricket history.

Raju MUkherji

Photo credit: Dr Jayanta Sen

Balaramda: my role model

I met my hero just once. That too just recently. The opportunity came when Dr Jayanta Sen offered to take me along with PC Poddar and Sukumar Samajpati to Balaramda’s place at Uttarpara. He received us at the door with a heart-warming smile but just would not allow me to touch his feet to do pranam. Embraced and said, “No, no, Please don’t.” I managed to reply, “Sir, but I have a request you cannot refuse.”

The smile remained as he raised his furrowed eyebrows, “Yes. What is it?” Now it was my turn to flash a smile, “I shall not touch your feet as you wish, but you have to put your hand on my head!” The soft laughter of a saint emerged – a replica of Ramakrishna, no less – the embrace tightened and his right palm touched the tip of my head. A shiver went down my spine. I am indeed a lucky man to have had the affection and blessing of this great man.

Tulsidas Balaram’s career has a unique colour to it. His international life as a football player lasted 6 years from 1956 to 1962. During that period Indian football was at its zenith: 4th in Melbourne Olympics to gold medal at Jakarta Asian Games. Very few Indian sportsmen have had such an influential role in the prospect of India’s sports performance. Unique indeed: whenever he played, India did well.

The ebony, sinuous frame swerved to the right, ‘dummied’ a robust tackler and from an acute angle a deft placement saw the leather sphere balloon the net. That was a typical movement of the sinewy elegance of Balaram. He was to repeat this magic for India time and again during the heady days of Indian football, 1956 to 1962.

He was the hero of all the East Bengal supporters at our school. Even the Bagan followers grudgingly admitted his worth with Subroto Sirkar claiming that he would have been still better with the maroon and green jersey on! Little did we youngsters realize that he belonged not to any narrow allegiance of club or State, he was the treasure of the nation. Everyone not only admired his genius, they loved the person he happened to be.

He arrived on the scene when Indian football was going through a period of total change. The legacy of playing in bare feet was abolished for good. The reason for this sudden transformation in Indian football scenario came about because of the ‘hell-in-Helsinki’ treatment in the 1952 Olympic. The much-vaunted bare-footed Indians were caught on slushy turf and went through the torture of losing by 10 goals to 1.

Balaram emerged from an obscure village in rural Andhra. The mild-mannered inside forward mesmerized all and sundry in the neighbourhood with his soccer talents. As destiny beckoned, he was soon in the presence of an exceptional football coach, Syed Rahim, in the Nizam’s capital city of Hyderabad.

Balaram had no time for unnecessary theories. He was a man of the soil who concentrated on activity rather than words. Balaram knew not what positive attitude meant because he was full of positivity. He knew not that he was someone special because he himself possessed extraordinary skills. He could do amazing tricks with the ball with ease. He could toy around with the ball not only with his feet but with his head and body as well.

 Remarkable control he possessed with the ball as well as in life-style. When he found others floundering, he did not get upset or irritated. He merely carried their responsibility voluntarily. He did not ever think that it was a burden on him. He was the game-maker as well as the goal-scorer. With ease the man could carry a weak team not only on his shoulders but with a warm heart as well.

Was he India’s first ‘total footballer’? Most certainly, he was, as almost every coach had asked him to do multiple roles. Every coach understood his innate all-round ability; every player saluted his approach and temperament; every genuine football fan was attracted to his appeal. He earned universal respect.

‘Total football’ was made popular internationally by the Dutch and Johann Cryuff in the 1970s, but there was man in India who was doing so in the 1950s. Little did the media or the administrators realize that what he was doing was something unique. He was destined to be behind the curtain forever. Our greatest ‘complete’ player never received his due recognition.

Nor did the Government of India, for that matter, acknowledge his real worth. They gave him the Arjuna award but conveniently forgot to confer on him the Padma awards. The chief reason was that he had no one to canvass and plead for him. May be it was appropriate when we found players far inferior to him were getting those awards. No, no, he did not belong to that low a category.

 Even the club for which the highly-sensitive man devoted the prime years of his football life did not quite live up to our expectations. Later they tried to make amends. But by then it was sadly too late.

During the course of the conversation as the great man got up to make the tea himself and serve us sandwiches, pastries and patties, Samajda commented, ‘Balada, if you had got married, Boudi would have done this job and we could have had more time with you.” Balada replied, “Very true, Samaj. But try my tea today.” I developed some courage to say, “Balaramda, I feel that even if Boudi was around, you would have made the tea for us yourself.” An unaffected, relaxed answer evolved, “Perhaps. Never thought on those lines.”

Born in a rural environment among orthodox Hindus, he became a devout disciple of Syed Abdul Rahim. He played a body-contact sport like football without ever appearing to push or shove anyone. The rough and tumble of football did not quite bother the fleet-footed genius. He was the trademark symbol of the ‘beautiful game’, which we all love and admire.  

He was a goal-scoring forward yet he would be seen roving all over the arena to collect and assist. His twinkling feet sent opponents the wrong way yet he would be seen to distribute unselfishly to his colleagues. On either side of the attack he would be devastating yet he would sacrifice his favourite inside-left position for others to prosper.

Coach Rahim utilized Balaram not at his favourite left-inside position because Chuni Goswami preferred to be at left-in. Balaram was equally devastating at right-in, where he developed a fabulous combination with PK Banerjee at right wing. No Indian team has had such great forwards playing together. They complemented just as they contrasted each other.

When he went to Melbourne for the Olympic Games in 1956 it was the first time he was leaving the shores of India. Was he nervous: straight from rural India to jet-set Australia? He remembers, “We had no time to think of anything but football. Rahim Saab told us that we were going to war and that on us depended the honour of our country. Our team was prepared to die for India.” India won the match 4-2 against host Australia.

What happened after the match? “None seemed too overjoyed. We had gone to win and we won. Rahim Saab gave a rare smile and said it seemed that we had the national flag on our chest! Great tonic for all of us. Centre-forward Neville D’Souza scored a superb hat-trick.”

Everybody agrees that you and PK were magnificent at the Melbourne Olympic and created innumerable openings. Again there was just the suggestion of a smile, “PK and I just did our job and received terrific support from every other player.”

That is Tulsidas Balaram for you and me. Simple and straight forward: he was not trying to be modest. He was just himself. Not a word out of place; no exhibitionism; no exaggeration. After his stupendous performance at Melbourne in 1956 of all the Calcutta clubs, it was Jyotish Guha’s East Bengal representatives who first went to his native village to sign him in.

But Balaram was not at all keen to leave his parents and village to settle down in a major city and so he politely declined the offer. This was by itself a distinct departure from the usual norm. Those days no football player would refuse the offer of the Calcutta clubs because they were the only ones who would pay the players handsomely.

As the East Bengal recruiters departed, Mohammedan Sporting officials pounced on him. Now Balaram’s mother had to intervene! She impressed upon her son the need to go and play for a ‘big’ club in the busy metropolis of Calcutta. As some of Balaram’s mates played for Mohammedan Sporting, he too opted to play for the club as well. But his football friends of Mohammedan Sporting told him that he would fit in much better at East Bengal because of his diet and life-style.

 Balaram on his own came to Calcutta with his Mohammedan Sporting friends and went to meet Jyotish Guha at his residence! This approach itself must be unique in the context of Indian sport. Jyotish Guha, known for his extremely stern manner, said, “The offer is no longer on.” Balaram pleaded, “Sir, Please give me just one more chance. I will never let you down.”

“How much do you want?” Guha raised his eyebrows.  

“Sir, I need only accommodation and food. Nothing else. Please consider my request.” Guha’s stern exterior softened, “Well, I shall decide on the payment later. Take your bag and go to our club mess.” Later Jyotish Guha told a fellow administrator, “One day this boy will revolutionize football in our country with his skills and manners.”

At the Rome Olympic in 1960 India played fabulous football, especially against the top teams like France and Hungary. The results 1-1 and 1-2 respectively hardly reflected the real picture, as the famous cricket writer Nevile Cardus had once observed ‘…the score-board is an ass.’ The Indians, under coach Rahim and captain PK, played delightful, inspired football. Balaram was at his devastating best.

Foreign critics were amazed to find the pride of world football – France and Hungary – being dazzled by the footwork of a group of spirited non-entities from south Asia. They went raptures over Balaram, PK and Chuni. Ultimately it was the lack of international experience and exposure that stopped India in the group league stage. One minor mistake of a well-known defender cost India the vital point but Balaramda differed, “No, no one player was responsible. We played together. We lost together.”

So typical of this selfless genius. We thought champions had massive egos. How wrong we were. Or, was he a rare exception? He did not have a selfish bone in his body. The lanky man of soft features hardly looked like a soccer player. He never possessed a robust physique. His manner was all charm. He gave the distinct impression of being a poet far away from the humdrum world of reality.

Sukumar Samajpati – outstanding player, superb musician and corporate-topper – said, “Just by watching Balada we learnt so much about football, about life. He would not force you to do anything. He would do wonderful things with his feet, body, head and mind. He made everything look so simple. We wanted to copy him, only to realize how difficult those were.” Only an outstanding person like Sukumarda can elaborate so modestly and candidly.

Balaram’s mother wanted him to get married in 1963. Balaram promised he would marry but only after the 1964 Olympic Games at Tokyo. In between he would spend hours at the maidan honing his undoubted skills. Suddenly one day, a mild cough developed into dreaded pleurisy. Balaram’s energy ebbed. He could hardly move. Those magical feet began to totter. He knew now Tokyo was an impossible dream.

His mother insisted that this was the right time to get married. But Balaramda being Balaramda simply said, “No, Ma, I cannot. I do not want to offer a patient to my wife!” He remained a bachelor and most surely a philosopher to be marvelled at.

Complimenting every contemporary came naturally to him. He could only see their strengths. When coaxed about Chuni and Peekay, he closed his eyes and reflected, “We three had distinctive styles. We enjoyed beautiful understanding. We complemented each other. They were exceptional. But please do not forget Arun, Jarnail, Yusuf Khan, Ram Bahadur, Kempiah, Thangaraj, Samaj. Each was magnificent as a player.”

Once my friend Ajoy Ghosh – abroad for more than 50 years – observed, “Raju, once East Bengal, always East Bengal. Balaram was, is and always will be my ‘guru’.” What affection, what reverence for a person even after 5 decades.

Calcuttans loved him. He reciprocated wholeheartedly. Today Ma Kali has literally brought him close to Her. Opposite the Dakshineshwar temple on the other side of the River Hooghly is the residence of my retired hermit, Balaramda. A saint in every sense of the word. A man of the world yet not quite in it. What a soul we have with us on earth. A champion on and off the field. He was born to be an inspiration to future generations.

Chandra, my Chandra…

 In this platinum jubilee birth anniversary of India’s greatest-ever match-winner, a tribute to our all-time favourite Chandrasekhar.

He was someone special. Rare vintage. Unique of flavor; extraordinary of essence. Never in the long history of cricket have we come across a player with such unusual characteristics as Chandrasekhar’s.

Bhagawat Subramanya Chandrasekhar came into the cricket scenario to show polite contempt for all the established norms. He rattled the conventional theories. He abhorred orthodoxy. But he was not rude in his manner. On the contrary, he kept smiling his way into the hearts of cricket lovers as one orthodox view after another collapsed.

Within three months of making his first-class debut for Karnataka, he was selected to play against England at Mumbai in 1963-64. Critics, including former Test cricketers, who had sniggered that his non-rhythmic  run-up would tire him out early, fled from the ground as he bowled 40 overs for just 67 runs! In between, however, he confounded the ‘technically correct’ English batters with four wickets.

Experts, who claimed he bowled too quick to gain sufficient spin, gasped as he spun a web around Bob Simpson’s Australia in 1965, throttling them to submission at Mumbai with 4 for 50 and 4 for 73.

The cynics were still not convinced. Again they had to make a hasty retreat as he tormented West Indies at Mumbai in 1967 with 11 wickets in the match. Among his victims were batsmen of the caliber of Conrad Hunte, Rohan Kanhai, Garfield Sobers and Clive Lloyd.

Now how would you describe a man who did everything that was not written in the text book and still emerged a champion? Yes, he had too long a run-up for a spinner. Yes, he ran in too quickly for a genuine turner. His action was ungainly. But then he was no believer in conventional theories or orthodox methods.

He was a free bird; not a caged pet.  His spirit soared to the skies. He was all spontaneity. Years ago before a Duleep Trophy tie at Chennai in 1973, I stood behind the south zone practice net trying to decipher his spin from his highly deceptive action. Gopal  Bose whispered, “Raju, play him as an off-spinner. If the ball turns from the leg, even Sir Don would be beaten!”  Absolutely to the point Gopal was. What a tribute to a great bowler.

My elder brother Deb, former Bengal batsman, who had got runs against Chandra in an university match on matting wicket always suggested, “Play him as a medium pacer who brought the ball in. In that way one would be prepared for the pace and the extra bounce that he generated.”

Yes, that’s it. It was the bounce that was astounding. No spinner could match him as his whiplash action would give nightmares to batters and force them to succumb.

But the arm-chair critics, even prominent former cricketers, were far from convinced. They were on the lookout for his failures abroad. Unfortunately for these so-called experts, that never occurred. On his first visit to England in 1967, on a dismal tour by Pataudi’s Indians, he took 16 wickets in only 3 Tests.

Then again in UK in 1971 under Ajit Wadekar, he had 13 victims in 3 Tests with 8 wickets at the Oval to help India win her first Test and series on English soil. Chandra’s magical spell in the 2^nd innings at the Oval, after England had taken a lead of 71 runs, had the England batters mesmerized. No such blitz had England encountered since Hitler’s aerial attacks.

From his first tour of Australia in 1968, Chandra returned with an injury. Went back with Bedi’s Indians in 1979 and gave India two victories with 12 and 8 wickets respectively at Melbourne and Sydney.

To West Indies he went just once. That was good enough to fetch India a historic win at Trinidad in 1976 where with 6 and 2 wickets in the match he surprised the might of Viv Richards, Alvin Kalicharran, Lawrence Rowe and Clive Lloyd. He ended the series with 21 victims in just 4 Tests.

He served India like a real champion. Between 1963 and 1979 he played 58 Tests claiming 242 wickets at 29.74. His victims would make a superlative World XI of prominent batsmen.

 He had no fancy for any particular captain. He was as comfortable with Pataudi and Bedi as he was with Wadekar. He received excellent support from his close-in fielders which included Solkar, Abid Ali, Ajit Wadekar and Vankataraghavan. Not that he desperately needed them for he was as successful with Karnataka without any of these world-class catchers for support. He worked in tandem with all his famous contemporaries Bishen Bedi, Erapalli Prasanna  and Srinivas Venkataraghavan without any particular fancy.

Very early in life an attack of polio severely affected his stronger arm, the right arm. Never was he able to use his right arm for throw-ins from the deep. Not to be outdone by such a grave handicap, he began to throw with his left arm. Such was his determination that the weaker left arm developed adequate strength and control and he actually used it for flat throw-ins from the boundary! I doubt if any fielder anywhere in the world has ever thrown accurately from the deep with the weaker arm. Really extraordinary. Even the best of fielders have not been able to do what Chandra achieved.

Chandra defies description. The sheer unpredictability of the man made him an unique sportsman. He not only detested batters, it seemed he also detested batting!  A whole lot of zeros against his name on the score-card is sufficient proof of this. But once at Eden, to humour us with his unpredictability, he added 50 runs with Bapu Nadkarni in 1963.

A fascinating aspect of Chandra was that whereas he should have been used as a shock bowler, he volunteered to take the load of a stock bowler as well. And yet managed not to suffer from over exposure as had happened to Sonny Ramadhin of the West Indies.

Every time he turned his arm there was a hushed silence on the stands. An aura of suspended suspense. Perpetually on the attack he was. Once in 1974 at Eden Gardens he brought a phenomenal victory to India against Lloyd’s team from the jaws of imminent defeat. Thanks to Tiger Pataudi’s faith in him, Chandra was man inspired that morning as he scythed through the extremely strong batting line-up.

Though his figures are extraordinary, there is always a fear that his real capability might be submerged by mere statistics. He was all magic. No opposition ever had any rest from him. His tentacles were always around their necks.

 Once as the non-striker I thought I heard a humming sound from the bowler Chandra. Asked the umpire for confirmation. Piloo Reporter smiled, “Did you not know that Chandra hums Mukesh tunes as he moves in to bowl!”  Here too he was an original; someone special. Ever heard of a match-winner humming tunes while bowling?

No other India has given us as many Test victories as Chandra has. Out of 58 Tests he had a major contribution in no less than 14 Tests. Never before or after has there been a match-winner like our silent-assassin Chandra, everyone’s perpetual favourite.