CK Nayudu

Sorabjee Colah had threatened to throw him overboard the ship-deck in 1932. In England in1936 Baqa Jilani abused him publicly and was rewarded with a Test cap for it by skipper Vizzy. Yes C. K. Nayudu evoked manic emotions in players under him.

 

Mushtaq Ali and the Holkar players worshipped him. The young Vijay Merchant was enchanted as he saw Nayudu pulverize MCC with 11 sixes at the Bombay Gymkhana ground in 1926. Lala Amarnath received his unstinted support as he raced to his Test debut century in 1933-34.

 

The person was none other than the legendary CK Nayudu. For Cottari Konkaiya Nayudu, cricket originated in ancient India and he always maintained that the supple and strong wrists oaf the Indians made them naturally adept at this game. Let it not be forgotten that Nayudu spoke of undivided India, an India which extended to Peshwar in the north-west periphery.

 

How true his reading was. Visualize the names of Fazal Mahmood, Hanif Mohammad, Zaheer Abbas, Majid Jehangir, Imran Khan, Javed Miandad, Sarfraz Nawaz, Wasim Akram in the company of our greats. Actually if petty political considerations had not partitioned us, undivided India would have ruled international cricket most certainly from the 1960s at least.

 

This was the dream that Nayudu had dreamt. At a time when Hammond, Hobbs, Bradman, Hutton, Headley and Constantine dominated world cricket, it took some guts to say that the sub-continent players were naturals and consequently the best. But then raw courage was his talisman, a constant companion.

 

Majestic CK Nayudu was a figure from the pantheon of cricketing gods. Over six feet in height, lissome of build, strong of arms. From his dark chisselled face radiated a halo that engulfed Indian cricket as no profile has done before or since.

 

In 1926 Arthur Gilligan brought a strong England (then M.C.C.) team to India to play a series of matches including unofficial Tests. At Mumbai against the combined Hindus team, Gilligan's men in exemplary fashion raced to 363 and then had the opposition Hindus in disarray at 84 for 3. In walked the ram-rod straight figure of C.K. and proceeded to play an innings which for sheer fire-power has had no equal.

 

C. K. reached his individual hundred in 65 minutes and then for good measure thrashed his way to 153 runs in just 115 minutes out of 187 runs added since his advent! A minor matter it was of 13 fours and 11 sixes against an attack that had Tate, Geary and the top professional bowlers of England at a time when English cricket ruled the world. Yes, you read right, no less than 11 over-boundaries.

 

It was not the statistical figure that had the Indian crowd walk ten feet tall. Nor the amazing speed of scoring. But the regal manner in which he unmasked the supposed superiority of the British Raj.

 

Like other subject people in Asia and Africa, the people of our sub-continent had come to believe in the invincibility of the White-Man, in thrall as they were for centuries. Perpetual servility had crept in, as it were. The Britons were far superior to ourselves, was the accepted notion.

 

In this context, the mayhem carried out single-handedly by CK Nayudu was a page out of the Mahabharata epic. If a singular act of defiance had raised the self-respect of Indians in those days of subjugation, this was it. Yes, CK Nayudu was the first Indian cricketer who made his own people believe that they could be just as aggressive as the best.

 

From that magical moment Indian cricket was no longer the same again. The morale of the Indian cricketers rocketed sky-high. The great barrier of the Englishman's invincibility had been broken down by one of their own and that too by one who was not of princely lineage but of ethnic stock.

 

Nayudu was born in an erudite Telegu family of Nagpur in 1895. The precocious talent for almost every ball-game was evident very early while still at Hislop Collegiate High School. His family encouraged him in every possible way and instilled in the young boy the sterling qualities of steadfastness and positive thinking, attributes which were to be his pillars of strength throughout his life in every endeavour.

 

It is commonly believed that while a youth he was encouraged by Ranjitsinghji, his father's colleague at Cambridge, to be more aggressive instead of being the plodder that he supposedly was at school. This appears to be apocryphal. For Ranji was no friend of Indian cricket and never encouraged any Indian cricketer.

 

Then again, CK was regularly hitting hundreds at school and surely no mere plodder could be reeling off hundreds and yet be regarded as a child prodigy. Lastly, later even when CK was at his best against the English in England or in India in the early 1930s, there was never a word of encouragement or admiration from the great Ranji.

 

Actually CK Nayudu was born and bred in India and was indeed fortunate that no foreign influence could curb his natural style. By 1915 at 20, he was selected to play for the Hindus in the Quadrangular tournament.

 

 On his debut against the strong Europeans he played as medium pace bowler and when the opportunity arose, he smote a six as his first scoring stroke. The bowler was Frank Tarrant, the brilliant Australian all-rounder who had come down to India to coach. It was no bravado, no desperation; just a hint to herald the positive nature and undoubted skills of this stupendously self-confident young man.

 

A man of great moral strength and physical courage, his penchant for physical training and constant practice had prepared him for an active first-class cricket career that spanned 48 years! From 1915 to the ripe old age of 66 in 1961 he virtually dominated the Indian cricket world.

 

 Like his famous peer Professor Deodhar, CK Nayudu too was in the habit of scoring double centuries in first class matches at a brisk pace while in his 50s and that too against the top-quality Indian bowlers. And so today when we hear that cricketers of the past were not physically fit enough, we can only smile at the ignorance of the uninitiated.

 

Indian selectors of the past however were no different from today's ‘jokers’. In 1932 for the tour of England the mantle of captaincy did not fall on the most deserving CK Nayudu because it was felt that only 'blue-blooded’ men had the ability to lead! Porbandar was elected to lead with Limbdi as his deputy. Disregarding the silly ideas of the national selectors,  both Porbandar and Limbdi were magnanimous to withdraw and allow Nayudu to lead in the inaugural Test at Lord’s in 1932.

 

 CK was magnificent as a leader and the team exhibited brilliant cricket earning genuine praise from all quarters. Nayudu at 37 scored a brilliant 40 on Test debut and made 1603 runs on tour, a landmark, including 5 centuries and was hailed by the cricketers’ Bible  “Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack" as one of its five cricketers of the year. Thus Nayudu was the first among Indians to be so rewarded.

 

Unfortunately not every Indian cricketer of the time appreciated his disciplined way of life. They found him a martinet who believed in total regimentation. In this we must readily admit they were not always wrong. For Nayudu, himself a product of elitist India, could not fathom the carefree nature of the simple rural India (Amar Singh) or the bonhomie of liberal education (Shute Banerjee). He rebuked Nissar for slackness in fielding but could have shown a little more restraint considering the fact that Nissar was bowling his heart out match after match.

 

Moreover Nayudu at a later period did himself no credit when he declined to play under Wazir Ali under a minor pretext. Yes, Nayudu, the master tactician that he was, had an Achilles' heel when it came to man-management. In CK's days, as of now, bias and prejudice have remained the bane of Indian cricket.

 

Back in India skipper CK duelled at par with Jardine, with whom he had a lot in common. Whereas Jardine had a disciplined brigade to handle, CK was in the midst of petty politicking throughout his tenure with mediocre mandarins perpetually carrying out cloak and dagger operations. On the 1936 tour yet again he scored more than a thousand runs with a magnificent 81 in the last Test. Even at 40 he was good enough to get runs against top international opposition.

 

But the petty officials at home finally did him in. Once he was invited to play a Test and on the morning of the match he was dropped for no apparent reason. The man who had given self-respect to the Indian cricketers was humiliated by stooges who craved for power even at the expense of the motherland.

  A man of charisma. Of presence. An embodiment of courage. Even in portraits he radiates an aura of respect.

 

 

Prof Deodhar

 Dinkar Balwant Deodhar was born in Pune in1892 and from an early age was exposed to the legendary exploits of Shivaji Chattrapati. A staunch Hindu of impeccable credentials, to Deodhar cricket meant merely another route to attainment of salvation.

 If Pavri and Baloo, primarily by their exploits on tours to England, had fired the imagination of youth in those hoary days, it was left to Deodhar to give the Indians the taste of success first-hand. For the first time ever, a representative team of the colonial masters was subjugated by an Indian on Indian soil in full view of his countrymen. It appeared that Deodhar’s mission was to prove to the ruling Britons that the Indian subjects were capable of surpassing their best players at their own game.

 If any single Indian player can claim to have taken the country to official Test match status, it was most certainly the erudite Sanskrit scholar from Pune. On a winter morning in 1926, the grassy Bombay Gymkhana pitch laden with fresh dew beckoned the great fast-medium bowler Maurice Tate to exhibit his mastery as the India team faced the daunting task of facing Arthur Gilligan’s England (then MCC) team. This was the occasion for which the 34-year old Sanskrit pundit was waiting for years.

 Combining doggedness with exemplary strokes, Deodhar relentlessly went on and on. The imposing MCC total of 362 was passed and only then did the Sanskrit scholar allow his stupendous concentration to flag. He contributed a masterly 148 out of the team’s total of 437, a distinct lead of 75 runs over an England team comprising prominent Test cricketers.

 No longer would the Englishmen in India make fun of Indian cricketers; no longer would there be sniggers; no longer would anyone dare to take the Indians lightly. That day he was not only batting for his team, he was writing the script of self-respect of a people subjugated to indignities and worse. His innings would have made Kautilya proud.

 Skipper Arthur Gilligan, gentleman to the core, was enchanted by Deodhar’s innings of character and skill. Gilligan went back to England and took personal initiative to propose that India deserved to be among the nations playing official Test matches. Thus India came to join the Imperial Cricket Conference as an official Test team and made her debut in 1932 against England at the Lord’s.

 But such is the irony of this game that the man, who was primarily responsible to elevate India to official Test match status, never got a single opportunity to play Test cricket himself. When India went on her inaugural Test tour of England in 1932, the name of Deodhar was missing. An act of sacrilege, if ever there was one. By 1932 the cricket crusaders had given way to cricket conspirators. The new breed of administrators publicised that Deodhar at 40 was too old to play for the country.

 Yes, at 40 a cricketer may have been thought to be old by conventional standards. But Deodhar was not a man to conform to stereotype patterns. He was actually physically fitter than most not only in 1932 but also in 1936 when the second India team went to England. At that time he was a regular player for the Hindu team in the Quadrangular and Pentangular communal cricket tournaments as well as for Maharashtra in the Ranji Trophy. His prolific performance in the first-class cricket in the 1930s was far superior to most of the men who played for India at the time.

 He actually was a victim of conspiracy. This educated man was a free-thinking, liberated soul. He never formed groups. His individual streak and love for his own province forbade him from joining the service of the influential maharajas. Thus his erudition and upright character became a noose around his neck.

 However, it is to Deodhar’s credit that he took his fate in his firm strides. He played for Maharashtra till the age of 54! Even at that age he was prolific in his batting performance. At the age of 48, he scored 246 against Bombay and ultimately led his team to victory over Madras in the Ranji Trophy final.

 As if this was not unique enough, he scored a century in each innings against Nawanagar at the age of 52! Such is the irony of destiny. That a man who was eminently successful in his endeavours, had to remain a silent spectator because of the conspiracy and intrigues of his own countrymen.

 After retiring from the game, Deodhar was a very responsible national selector. Here too he left his imprint. He did not allow Anthony D’Mello, the Board President at the time, any favours. He was firmly opposed to D’Mello for trying to meddle in the selection of the national team. For this courageous approach of his, Deodhar suffered but then he could not be enticed to compromise with his principles. He was responsible for the rise of some of our genuine world-class players like Vinoo Mankad and Vijay Hazare.

 For a man’s of Prof Deodhar’s deep erudition and strong character, it was not the result but the effort that mattered. Rarely, if ever, we have seen such a karma-yogin on the cricket ground.

 Every Indian cricketer, of whatever hue, owes an eternal gratitude to these magnificent pioneers of Indian cricket. They laid the path and paved the way so that others could have a smooth passage. Let us not forget these immortal souls. Our very existence as cricketers and cricket lovers is because of their supreme sacrifices.

                                               I met Prof Deodhar just once. Way back in 1973. Bengal had just been beaten by Maharashtra in a Ranji Trophy quarter-final tie at Pune. That was our skipper Chuni Goswami’s farewell match for Bengal and the last match of my debut season.

 Inside the pavilion sat an elderly man with eyes glued to the match. Chunida asked me, “You always keep blabbering about cricket. Can you identify the gentleman sitting on the cane chair?”

I had a good look and asked, “Will he be Prof Deodhar?”

“Good. Then come I will introduce you to him.”

“But does he know you?” I asked.

Chunida gave a sidelong glance, “Everybody in India knows me.” Typical of Chunida, my captain.

As we went near the man, the elderly gentleman looked at Chunida and said, “Chuni, happy to see that you are still playing.” Chunida nodded and shook hands with him.

 The moment Chunida introduced me, the man said, “Good technique and temperament, but poor physique. Will never play for India.”

I was stunned by his assessment. Had a very successful debut season and played a fairly responsible innings in this match too. Yet the gentleman was so very discouraging. But, to be honest, he was dead correct. My physique was never strong enough. Suffered from a congenital heart ailment.

 Immediately I said, “Sir, I do not crave to be a Test player. I want to be like you.”

“What do you mean? Like me, in which way?”

“Sir, I want to be an academic first and only then a cricketer.”

The elderly gentleman smiled and grasped my hand, “That’s the spirit I like.”

That grasp was not the limp handshake of an 80 year old man. It was the Maratha grip that finished Afzal Khan. Full of steel and rock.

 

 The conversation with the living legend was enlightening. I did not want to let him go. He also seemed to enjoy my company. When I asked him about his cricket career, he merely said, “It is for others to judge. I was happy to have kept my backbone straight throughout.”

I quipped, “Sir, your protégés have answered on your behalf.” Furrowed his eyebrows and nodded.

“Sir, please consider me to be your Ekalavya.”

Did I see the suggestion of a strange smile cross his face? Did not say anything beyond, “In that case you will lose a lot.” When I touched his feet, he was visibly touched. Just said, “If you remain straight, God will always be with you.”

 He got up and strode out. Sturdy and strong. No support. Not even a walking stick. Every inch a philosopher-warrior. I had met my boyhood idol Chhatrapati Shivaji. The silhouette left, leaving behind an ever-lasting impression. He left just as he had spent his life. In splendid isolation.

 

 

Palvankar Baloo

The first India born and bred cricketer of international eminence was a Harijan, a social outcaste. His name was Baloo Palvankar and he hailed from Dharwad, an obscure corner of Maharashtra.

Born in1875, his poverty-stricken family soon migrated to Poona. The young Baloo had to leave school early in life to augment the family income. His first job was with a Parsee cricket club where he rolled and swept the ground.

By 1892 however he got employment in the exclusive environment of Poona Gymkhana, where he was required to assist the chief groundsman. He also in his spare time bowled to the European players at the nets. One European Jungly Greig (more on him in another article) was the first to discover his exceptional talents.

Word soon spread that the young Harijan groundsman possessed outstanding bowling skills. But the high-caste, conservative Hindus of Poona would not even contemplate giving him a trial. In the caste-ridden ambience of Poona at the time, the low-born Harijan had little sympathy and less opportunity. Fortunately around this time Baloo’s father went to Bombay, where the cosmopolitan clime afforded him comparatively a little easier social mobility.

Here too, at the Hindu Gymkhana the orthodox elements were initially not in favour of playing with a ‘low-born’ Harijan. But then regular defeats at the hands of the European and Parsee oppositions compelled them to include Baloo in their team.

Using all his skills he was an immediate success in the local matches, which made him an automatic choice for the combined Hindu team in the triangular tournament where the Hindus competed with the Parsees and the European expatriates. Immediately the Hindus began to win matches and titles. The primary reason was the fantastic exploits of the social pariah, Baloo.

From 1907 to 1920 he was the best bowler in the land. Left-arm spinner of phenomenal performance and remarkable consistency. Even though he was winning them trophies, the Hindus did not allow him to sit beside them even to have his cricket lunches!

Despite opposition from his own community to his leadership, late in life Baloo had the satisfaction to lead the Hindus to victory in the Quadrangular of 1920. This was most certainly a rare achievement. For a “low-caste” Hindu to give leadership to the supposed higher castes was indeed a major breakthrough in the social fabric of the Hindu community at the time.

For the sake of self interest and convenience, the upper class Hindus accepted a social outcaste to play alongside them. The man, who was judged to be an untouchable because of his birth, now became a hero because of his genius. In 1911 when the Maharaja of Patiala decided to take an all-India cricket team to England, Baloo was an automatic choice.

 In England, Baloo created havoc match after match. He did not worry about the cold, blistery weather. Nor did he find any time to bother about the ever-changing conditions and the varying pitches on which he had no experience earlier. The social pariah made no discrimination in his opponents as he teased and tormented the English batters.

He exhibited to the caste Hindus and the world what a social outcaste from an obscure village in India was capable of, if given the right opportunities. Later Baloo was joined in the Hindu team by his three brothers – Shivram, Vithal and Ganpat – each a brilliant performer in his own right. These four brothers made the Hindu team the best in the land.

 On his triumphant return from England in 1911, prominent social activists like Gokhale, Ranade and Tilak hailed his greatness in public announcements. Even Bhimrao Ambedkar, then a young student, became a self-confessed ardent fan of his.

 Whatever he got from cricket was not for his own benefit but for the benefit of the upper class Hindus. He and his brothers were merely pawns to be exploited and forgotten.

Baloo did not change his religious belief to Buddhism in response to a call from his friend and fan, Ambedkar, who was convinced that the ‘untouchables’ had no future within the Hindu community and so he wanted all his fellow ‘untouchables’ to convert themselves into Buddhists.

Baloo did not change his religion as he felt that with Mahatma Gandhi’s emergence and influence the status of his community would improve and that they would become an important part of the mainstream.

The contradiction in approach between the two friends drew them apart. In 1937, despite reluctance on his part, Baloo was coerced to fight an election against the formidable Dr Ambedkar and, as apprehended, lost the contest.

He died in 1955 in penury, thoroughly forgotten by the very men he had helped to prosper. Every Indian cricketer owes him an eternal debt. He is the first ever Indian cricketer who heralded the superiority of Indian cricketers to the world at large. He is the man who opened the door for the modern cricketer to earn respect abroad.

No national award, no national recognition, no financial benefit was ever granted to this dignified genius. He left behind the memory of a legend that should make every Indian cricket lover feel guilty of having forsaken him.

 

 

 

Mehallasha Pavri     

Indian cricket owes a deep sense of gratitude to two scholarly individuals. One was Mehallasha Edulji Pavri and the other, Dinkar Balwant Deodhar. Pavri was a doctor by profession; Deodhar a professor of Sanskrit. Although their high noon was separated by about three decades, they were the real pioneers of Indian cricket who paved the path for posterity.

 

Pavri belonged to the Parsee community. Born at Navsari in 1866, he was drawn into the vortex of cricket in Bombay at a time when the mercantile Parsees were more than eager to befriend the ruling British community. For them cricked provided an avenue to socialize with the colonial masters. Learning the rudiments of the game from watching the Britons at the Bombay maidans, the Parsees decided that they too would have their own teams and play against the white men on equal terms.

                                 

It was easier said than done. The Britons in India did play against the Parsees but they were sarcastic, condescending and downright insulting at times. The affronts made the Parsees more determined than ever. They made up their mind to learn the game and compete as quickly as possible.  

 

Even as early as 1886 the Parsees went across to England to adapt themselves to the varying conditions and pitches. Only the elder cricketers of the community, who could afford to pay their voyage fares, went. Obviously enough, the team fared disastrously against the English who, at the time were certainly the best in the business.

 

Young Pavri was not in that 1st Parsee team which went to England in 1886. But by the time the team for the next tour of 1888 was selected, Pavri was an automatic choice by virtue of his stupendous performances against the Europeans in the Presidency matches on the Bombay and Poona maidans.

 

On English wickets he was a man inspired. He unleashed his thunderbolts with nagging accuracy. Stumps cart-wheeled with monotonous regularity. A natural athlete, he kept his ears and eyes open as he picked up finer skills from the masters of seam and swing, especially Lockwood. He added the break-back to his repertoire and felt equally at ease with the old ball as with the new.

 

By dint of his outstanding personal success, the profile of his team improved by leaps. Whereas in 1886, the Parsees had won just one match, losing 19 out of 28; this time the equation read : 8 victories and 11 losses out of 31 matches. A remarkable progress by any yardstick.

 

For Pavri, England was a revelation. In India the Britons had scoffed at the Parsees’ efforts, but in England the Britishers were genuinely generous with praise and guidance.

 

Pavri's extraordinary performance of 170 wickets at only 11.66 earned respect and plaudits. In a particular encounter with the Gentlemen of England at Eastbourne the Parsees left the Englishmen with hardly 120  runs for victory after being forced to follow-on. But that small target was enough for Pavri. His whiplash action bundled the Gentlemen for only 56 runs, claiming 6 wickets in the process. This was the match that heralded the rise of this magnificent bowler, the embryo from which Mohammed Nissar, Kapil Dev and company were to flower in the following century.

 

Such was Pavri's domination over Vernon's 1890 team in India as well as over Lord Hawke's 1892 side that he was invited to play for Middlesex in the county championship in 1895. Thus Pavri became the first Indian cricketer to have played in the county championships in England.

 

Ranjitsinghji is excluded from this category as he learnt and played his cricket basically in England. But then Ranji too first played county cricket for Sussex in the same year as Pavri, although Ranji had got his Cambridge 'Blue' in 1895.

 

Pavri played serious cricket till 1912 and then concentrated on his medical profession. Meticulous and methodical as befits his profession, he was a rare deity in the pantheon of Indian cricket. He authored an excellent book on cricket in India at the time.

 

His deeds heralded to the world that the Indians could well learn the game of cricket on their own and be as good as any in the world of men.