Kishore Bhimani

A wonderful, well-rounded personality. Raconteur extraordinary. Could liven up an evening over a peg with anecdotes on cricketers, especially off-the-field! Lover of good life, Kishore had a graceful and gracious way of writing prose. While his famous contemporary Rajan Bala would concentrate on technicalities, history and superlative turn-of-phrase, Kishore developed his own distinctive style as he wrote on cricket for The Statesman for decades.

Started with Calcutta St Xavier’s and finished his academics with London School of Economics (LSE), his orbit was wide, deep and liberal. Could hold a conversation on any serious topic just as he could come up with light-hearted banter. Outstanding  he was as cricket commentator.

One great quality of his was his ability to accept jokes at his expense. Rajan Bala at times teasingly called him “Beimani” but Kishore would laugh the loudest. Once I had asked him, “Are you the only LSE product to have served time at the Press Box?” Kishore replied,” No, no. There are several others as well from prominent universities.” I told him, ”My emphasis is not on LSE, but on ‘served time’.” You should have heard his laughter. In the Press Box he actually looked a downcast prisoner!  He was not born to be a cricket journalist to warm the benches at the Press enclosure. He was a free-bird who loved to mix and chat with elan. He had a way with celebrities. Yes, he was that kind of a man.

He was a regular at prominent social clubs and extremely popular with his penchant for adda. In the latter days a perpetual presence around the walk-path of CCFC. Charm of manner and speech, he was a man of dignity. Very doting husband to Rita and father to Gautam. A wonderful family.

I wish to remember him for his relaxed manner, easy smile, ready humour. Once I told him,” You are a living ghost! Why do you ‘ghost’ books for cricketers and industrialists?” Kishore furrowed his eyebrows and tried to muffle his smile but it did not last more than a few seconds. He burst out laughing with his gold-tooth glistening, “Raju, you were at least 10 years junior to me in school.” 

That was his way of rebuke to a man he had given the opportunity to write for The Statesman way back in 1980. Extremely generous of him to offer an active cricketer to write at the age of 30. His magnanimity made me the first non-international cricketer to write regular columns in one of India’s leading newspapers.

Kishore celebrated his 80^th birthday last February. Calcutta-media’s sports pages, very typically, decided he died at 74! Surely from the celestial plane Kishore would be enjoying this debate over his date of birth. A life lived in style. A life full of generous banter. A delightful person whom I will never again get to meet.