RAMAKANT DESAI

 

He was a celestial gift to India and to the Indians. For nearly 25 years we had not one pace bowler who could put the fear of physical injury in the opposition. The Indians had become downcast, dispirited, dejected.

 

Ever since the advent of Mohammed Nissar in the 1930s not one fast bowler of note emerged. It was indeed a gloomy, disheartening period of Indian cricket. Foreigners made fun of our weakness, passed offensive remarks. Actually the Indian cricket lovers began to lose faith in themselves. Such was our disenchantment that we took it for granted that we would never be able to produce a single bowler of terrifying speed.

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Then in the winter of 1958-59 as the West Indies cricketers were making merry — as cats among pigeons — winning Test after Test, our self-respect took a heavy battering. Not only for losing by wide margins, but more so for the way we succumbed. Injuries abounded; wickets were gifted away for fear of pace; players made themselves unavailable; some even retired. It was a ridiculous scenario: Kafkaesque at its best. Self-esteem had taken a plunge deep into an ocean of disappointment.

 

It was at this hour, all on a sudden and without any fanfare that a man appeared to bring us back to a semblance of respectability. In the final Test at New Delhi the Indians put up a grand show under the astute and courageous leadership of army-man, Hemu Adhikari. His principal weapons were two young men: Chandrakant Borde and a 19 year-old debutant Ramakant Desai.

 

When Ramakant began his run-up to bowl the first ball, many in the stands smirked, passed derisive remarks. They thought that they had good reasons: how could a man barely 5'5", frail and puny, pack the punch to be a fast bowler? How could the tiny physique have the necessary strength and stamina that a pacer must be blessed with?

 

By the end of the Test Match, serious cricket addicts realized that their long, fervent prayers had finally been answered.

 

'Tiny' Desai— yes, that was his nickname, christened by the erudite commentator Vizzy — bowled with rare venom on a dull, dead wicket without a trace of grass at Feroz Shah Kotla ground in New Delhi. He earned the respect of Conrad Hunte, Kanhai, Collie Smith, Sobers, Basil Butcher, Joe Solomon and company, who feasted on genuine fast bowling in the Caribbean.

 

One particular photograph of that match is still etched in my memory, 60 years after the event. The picture of the brilliant Collie Smith ducking to avoid a bumper from Ramakant Desai. The illustration appeared in The Hindu’s Sport & Pastime magazine, the predecessor of Sportstar.

 

For me that particular photograph is a photograph as memorable as any of the last 60 years. It has a special significance. A world class ‘hooker’ of the calibre of Collie Smith found no answer to the pace of an Indian on a lifeless pitch. That very fact revealed a treasure of no small significance. It highlighted an evidence of self-respect of a nation.

 

On his debut on that lifeless Delhi pitch, Desai captured the scalps of world-class batters like Rohan Kanhai, Garfield Sobers, Collie Smith and Jack Holt. Following year in England the list included Peter May, Colin Cowdrey, Mike Smith, Ken Barrington among others. In India Neil Harvey, Norman O’Neil and Peter Burge were castled. Against Pakistan Desai had Hanif Mohammed, Saeed Ahmed, Javed Burki and Imtiaz Ahmed in considerable agony.

 

The fact that a short and lean young man could even think of bowling fast on inhospitable terrain and of developing himself to generate the kind of pace that had the West Indies men in discomfort spoke volumes of the heart of the man. This was like Bal Gangadhar Tilak taking on the massive British Empire without a thought of the magnitude of the problem or its consequences.

 

 Likewise this Maharashtrian hero decided that he would, if need be, single-handedly take up the cudgels of self-respect and rebellion. He reminded us to think big; to think in terms of speed. He made us realize that we too can flex our muscles and make others fret about us.

 

Since that day in 1959, Desai for the next ten years bowled with his heart and guts, and without any conceivable new-ball support. He was nicknamed 'Tiny' after the apparent size of his physique. Actually he should have been called 'Lion' for that was exactly how his deliveries reared at the batters.

 

 He had a big heart and an attitude that roared for blood. The lean frame packed considerable muscles. The tiny body was just to remind us that the world of reality was far, far different from the world of impressions; mere physical-build being no substitute for spirit and skills.

 

Ramakant Desai came forward to upset every conventional view of fast bowling. For a man of his small physical stature he was an unlikely candidate for fast bowling. Yet he bowled quick, real quick. Today when every trundler is described in superlative terms and rated to be fast, Ramakant was much faster than most. Between Nissar and fast-medium Kapil, Dev, he was our only torch-bearer of genuine pace bowling.

 

His long arms enabled him to gain considerable leverage and his perfect co-ordination of physical movement provided him with the sharp edge of the sword. But from where did he get his stamina? Was it the rhythm of his run-up? The unyielding spirit? The co-ordination of body and mind?

 

 Ramakant was remarkably similar to Harold Larwood and Roy Gilchrist in this respect. All of them were short (Desai being the shortest of them) and not heavily-built. However all three of them had long arms, were loose-limbed and possessed an instinct for aggression. They had a beautiful rhythmic run-up, a very clean action, a full follow-through. Perfect co-ordination of mind and muscles.

 

Whereas Larwood was carefully handled as the prime shock bowler and Roy Gilchrist was cruelly cold-shouldered, our Ramakant was sacrificed on the altar of expediency. Captain after captain made him work overtime. Not one to refuse the call of duty, he obeyed his captains' requests and bowled day in, day out; match after match.

 

 In this way our prime shock weapon became a stock bowler through over and inconsiderate use. Desai was such a fine gentleman that he could not ever refuse to go flat out when asked to turn his arm round.

 

Eden Gardens held a peculiar fascination for him. It was here that he at least received a semblance of greenery on the pitch, for assistance. He was a hero to the thousands who thronged Eden Gardens on those winter morns to watch Test Matches. They came with bugles and drums, oranges and sandwiches. They knew their cricket and could see through facades and imposters. They never had two opinions about their hero, Ramakant Desai, whom they idolised.

 

As Desai began his lovely run-up, the emotional crowd would chant, "Baba Taraknath-er Charan-ey Seva Lagey, Mahadeeeeeeevvvv". It was heady stuff; stuff that sends a shrill down one's spine. So charged would our Ramakant be that inevitably he would bowl beyond himself at the Gardens.

 

Another feature of the presence of Ramakant Desai at the Eden Gardens was the man with the kasor-ghonta, the Bengali version of the brass-band. This gentleman — Hemanta Roy — would keep beat with every single step of Desai's run-up. For every Test that Desai appeared at Calcutta this gentleman without fail kept up his way of paying homage to his hero.

 

 Hemanta Roy did not attend a single Test after Desai retired. A former Azad Hind Fauj soldier, Hemanta Roy found resonance with the aggressive intent of the lone warrior. Unbelievable, yes; but true. That was the kind of feeling we had for our lion-hearted hero. Wonder if any player anywhere on earth ever had such personal hero-worship?

 The love for Desai was something special. Far beyond the confines of cricket. This was the spontaneous love of the Bengalees for the lone fighter, the under-dog, the rebel who fought for of principles and self-esteem. Invariably enough Desai, too, in response kept his best reserved for the Eden Gardens crowd.

 

In 1962 Ted Dexter led a formidable England team that included Ken Barrington but at Calcutta the trio of Desai, Borde and Durani brought off a magnificent win. On the last afternoon Desai’s deceptive bouncer surprised the prolific Barrington as his mis-hook went straight to Durani and with that wicket India prised open the door to a remarkable victory.

 Earlier still in the 1961 series against Pakistan, at the Eden Gardens Desai caused much discomfiture to even Hanif Mohammed, at the time the premier opening batter in the world. Hanif, who was at home to the fastest bowlers from every country, had considerable problems when confronted by Desai, especially his bumpers.

 

Desai's lean build belied his pace. And moreover the bounce that he was able to extract from lifeless wickets was indeed unusual. But what most of us failed to take into consideration was that he had a beautiful wrist action and at the point of delivery his wrist was like a cobra with its hood raised. His long limbs gave him adequate leverage and his fitness was such that his stamina never suffered even at the end of a long day.

 

Ramakant Desai played 28 Tests for India capturing 74 wickets at 37.31. On the England tour of 1959 he was very nippy and in tandem with Raman Surendranath’s controlled swing had England in no end of trouble. At Lord's he took 5 for 89 off 31.5 overs – his best figures overseas – and nearly upset England’s apple-cart. When England were tottering at 100 for 7, Desai had 5 wickets in his pocket. But poor catching skills in the slip cordon let him and India down ultimately.

 

In West Indies in 1962 he was adequate on a tour where disaster followed disaster. But in 1967-68 when he was taken to Australia, ‘Tiny’ Desai was well past his prime and only a hazy shadow of his real self. Even then with a broken jaw he batted bravely to score 32 not out and helped India win at Dunedin against New Zealand.

 

During Desai's days in the sun there were not too many tours, certainly not as many as there are now. So for the major part of his career he had to bowl on sun-baked, dry Indian wickets of little bounce and no pace. The game trier that he was, he slogged on and on; and so most of his successes have been on placid Indian soil.

 

It is frequently forgotten that Ramakant Desai could use the willow authoritatively.  Once in December 1960 against Fazal Mahmood's Pakistan at Brabourne Stadium, he scored a whirlwind 85 and added 149 runs with Nana Joshi. That still remains an Indian record for the 9th wicket. He was a hard hitter of the ball and frequently made useful contributions.

 

Unfortunately Desai, the man of integrity, was not an articulate person and so his tenure as the chairman of the national selection committee was his poorest contribution to cricket. In the treacherous atmosphere of selection committee meetings, this simple man was a total misfit. A wrong man at the wrong place. Very unfortunately, he happened to be the only national selector to have expired while in office.

 

His sad, untimely demise at 59 in 1998 due to cardiac arrest proved that his heart was in the activity of cricket and not in its auction. A brave-heart, a popular figure among peers, Desai remains a perpetual favourite of Eden Gardens and an outstanding soldier of Indian cricket.