Shankar Laxman

No life is worth living if one does not do something for one’s fellow-men or for one’s own country. In life as in death these rare individuals earn genuine admiration even from their opponents. One such soul happened to be Shankar Laxman.

The name may not ring a bell for many readers. Certainly not the readers’ fault. Shankar Laxman’s exploits were hardly ever highlighted by the media. He never received any worthwhile recognition while he lived. Today years after his death his name is almost forgotten. But if the annals of India’s sports history ever reflects the truth, then the name would reverberate and send ripples around the land.

The diminutive man was a giant between the posts. Short and sturdy, he was a real warrior who wore his Indian army uniform in pride and splendour.  Courage was his middle name as he turned the art of hockey goal-tending to a spectacular display of raw bravery and fortitude. For the Indian army jawan, the rectangular area between the goal-posts and the cross-bar was India territory and he would not allow a single enemy bullet to touch his motherland.

In those days goal-keepers did not wear helmets and chest guards. The short-statured Laxman found the pads unwieldy. Those came beyond his hips and were heavy enough to make a goal-keeper almost immobile. But the jawan from the Services had little time to worry about the size and the weight of his kit. His unflappable concentration revolved around his duty: to guard India’s citadel against every possible invasion. Nothing else mattered to him. With just his hockey stick in one hand and a tattered glove on the other he took charge of India’s honour for close to ten years that covered three Olympic Games.

The first Olympic Games Laxman went to was at Melbourne in 1956. He was the under-study to the best goalie in the world, Raghunandan Francis, who was a vital member of two Olympic gold medal-winning India teams at London in 1948 and Helsinki in 1952. But the team management realized that Laxman was ready to come into the first XI.

On the morning of the final against Pakistan, captain Balbir Singh told the young jawan to get ready to play. Laxman’s Olympic debut was in the final! He did not have the luxury of time for mental preparation. He did not have the comfort-feeling of being ‘nursed’. He did not need such namby-pamby treatment. He was a warrior first and foremost and that’s the reason he was ready for any challenge at any hour of the day or night. To him it mattered not who the opposition was or what the conditions were like. He was a fighter and fighters do not bother about anything but the honour of their motherland.

After a hard-earned win in the final match, the grateful senior players carried the brave, young soldier on their shoulders. He had brought off not ‘saves’ but saved the nation’s citadel time and again against constant onslaughts. Sidelined for the final match, the senior goalie Francis rushed onto the field and embraced his young protégé. Tears flowed as the two generations merged for the cause of the nation. What spirit of patriotism the Indians had those days. With the gold medal around his neck, Shankar Laxman let out a war-cry from the medal-pedestal, “Jai Hind.”

In 1960 at the Rome Olympics, by the extremely high standard the hockey team had placed for themselves, the Indian hockey players were a disappointed lot. They had given their all but a solitary goal defeat in the final against Pakistan rankled. The nation as a whole stoutly defended them for their exemplary skill and valour but the players thought they had let the nation down! Just imagine the bar they had settled for themselves: feeling sad for coming 2^nd in the world! Feeling downcast for winning the silver medal! This was the kind of spirit our hockey team possessed till the 1960s.

Tokyo Olympic was still four years away. But the hockey players refused to rest and relax. They were impatient for revenge. The effort that Laxman put in would put an aspiring, ambitious youngster to shame.  In 1964 again the man beneath the cross-bar was the one and only Laxman.

But in the final, Pakistan, down by an early goal through a penalty-stroke, came back to wreck vengeance on the Indian goal. Attack after attack followed. Any moment the citadel would break down. It was just a matter of time. Munir Dar the magnificent Pakistani striker, among world’s best ever, was threatening to break the neck of every Indian in his vicinity.

 The final match was now no longer a hockey-duel, it had become a battle between two neighbouring nations, India and Pakistan. Eye-ball to eye-ball they fought. No quarters given, none asked for. In the last ten minutes – that’s a long period in a fast sport like hockey – the dark-green shirts were all over the Indian ‘D’. As the final whistle blew, no one had the energy to be on one’s feet. All 22 players were on the ground desperately trying to regain their breath. Hardened, experienced players were all in tears. Some in sorrow; some in joy. But no warrior could find the energy to leave the arena of battle. Both the teams had fought and given their best for their respective motherlands.

Finally Munir Dar rose, walked up to Shankar Laxman, picked him up and embraced, “What were you doing there? Do you realize you could have died from those bullets? Never seen a hockey goal-keeper dive and fly as you did.” Tears streaming, Laxman embraced, “I wanted to die against you on the hockey field ever since that defeat at Rome.” Tears welled up as opponents embraced. Both the teams realized that they had taken part not in a hockey match but in something much more: honour of their motherlands. The spirit of sport was laid bare in profusion. The skills of hockey, no less. There was no disgrace in defeat; no euphoria in victory.

At the victory podium, the Pakistan team requested India skipper Charanjit Singh to allow Laxman to take the gold medal first! Magnanimous captain Charanjit was willing but the Olympic Committee quite rightly pointed out that the formality must be maintained. Laxman followed Charanjit to the medal ceremony. At the end of the match when asked about the loss to India, the Pakistan captain said, “No, today we lost to Shankar Laxman, no one else!” That’s the kind of reverence he earned from hardened opponents.

After serving the country for ten years, finally in 1966 at the Asian Games he was given the captaincy of national hockey team. India regained the championship that they had lost to Pakistan in 1962. The poor man finally received the honour that he deserved.

Born at Mhow in Madhya Pradesh in 1933, he did not have the luxury of attending schools. He spent more time in the poverty-stricken neighbourhood watching seniors at play and trying to copy them with his friends. In time he was lucky someone identified his talent for hockey. After a few years with some informal clubs, the tough youngster was found fit to join the army. The armed forces thankfully encouraged sporting activities and in next to no time Laxman found his métier at hockey. After that there was no stopping the determined boy from the back-streets of Mhow.

The great Dhyan Chand had the highest respect for Laxman, “In 3 successive Olympics, Laxman was beaten just once!  Just once! A miracle-man, indeed. Apart from his amazing courage and undoubted skills, his greatness was that he never tried to be spectacular. His only mission was to save India’s citadel. Nothing else mattered to him. He was a true jawan. Jai Jawan. Jai Hind.”

During an interview in the 1980s, the phenomenal Leslie Claudius once remarked to me, “With Shankar Laxman guarding your goal, you felt confident of victory. The opposition was in awe of this innocent and simple soul. Even at practice sessions he was almost unbeatable. His trademark smile acted as a tonic for all of us. He was much junior to me but delightful company with his rural jokes and pranks.” This aspect of Laxman was totally unheralded and unknown.

After retiring from his favourite sport of hockey at which India dominated as long as he played, Laxman was back to square one. He was born poor and now again he was back to penury. To add to his misfortune, suddenly a small injury flared up to reveal the dreaded disease of gangrene. Despite the awesome pain, the soldier in him soldered on and did not want to tell the world his problems.

The family was not in a position to pay the medical costs. Much later, when the erstwhile Holkar royal family came to know, it was said that Madhav Rao Scindia rushed to his aid with a blank cheque. But by then the doctors had proclaimed that both the legs would have to be amputated from the thighs. The news stunned everyone except the person involved. He heard of the problem but kept his cool. He still looked every inch an army jawan and every inch the best goal-tender in the world. In appearance and spirit he was the same Shankar Laxman.

This poignant moment of his life was related to me by Pranay Mondkar, a genuine sports enthusiast from Mumbai, and I wish to share it with the world.

Scindia was visibly moved. He knew not what to say or do. He understood the plight of the family. He was moved to say, “Sir, we do not want those legs to be amputated. Those two legs of yours have saved hundreds of goals for your country. We must try to save them somehow.”

But Shankar Laxman, ever the warrior, simply shook his head and firmly said, “No. No surgery can save my legs. No amputation can save my spirit. Let me die a warrior’s death at my Kurukshetra. I want to die bleeding.” Only a real warrior can say this. No wonder his middle name was ‘Courageous’.

The history of Indian sport has to be rewritten and these patriots be given their rightful recognition. In a country devoid of genuine sports culture, what can we expect? In a country where crime-stained sportsmen become parliamentarians; where ignorant and arrogant sportsmen hold major posts; where back-stabbing, match-fixing and bribery are passwords for sportsmen; where sport has become a refuge for self-seekers,  who will have the time for Laxman?

What is the value Shankar Laxman’s sacrifice for his motherland? For our own motherland?  Will his soul ever be able to rest in peace?