Pankaj Gupta, the mercurial manager, with Joseph Goebbels the Nazi Germany minister.                              

 

While there is a long tradition in India of doling out sports-team managership to sycophants and stooges, it is worth relating that  we actually possessed a manager who was rated very highly by no less a discerning persona than Sir Donald Bradman. In his autobiography Farewell to Cricket, Sir Don christened him ‘Peter’ out of respect for the man’s personality and prowess.

 

While in Australia with the India team in1947-48, Pankaj Gupta was at the peak of his eventful career as a sports administrator. When Sir Don was making mincemeat of the Indian bowling, the Aussie media was very critical of Bradman for his ruthlessness. But Gupta, the proud manager, would have none of it. He and his captain Lala Amarnath categorically stated that India had come to play Australia on equal terms, were willing to learn from them but expected no condescending treatment. Typical of Amarnath and Gupta.

 

Pankaj Gupta holds a unique place in India’s sports history. Thrice he went to the Olympics as a hockey-official but never as the prime manager! In 1932 he went to Los Angeles Olympics as the non-playing captain. In 1936 to Berlin as assistant manager. In the next Olympic at London in 1948 as 2^nd official. In all three Olympics India won the gold medal. If he was not a playing member, why was he sent at all? Why was he so desperately needed between 1932 and 1948?

 

There were many aspirants to the manager’s role. Especially individuals who stayed in close proximity to the powers-that-be in expectation of favours. As is the typical Indian administrative system, these ‘favoured’ individuals were officially designated as ‘managers’ to keep the various member-State associations happy. The trend continues.

 

But the Indian Olympic Association president, Maharaja of Patiala Bhupindra Singh – pioneer and primary patron of Indian sport – well knew that India needed a man of Pankaj Gupta’s personality and knowledge to uphold the country’s self-respect and the team’s interest. Although Gupta was not ‘close’ to any of the influential royals, he was considered indispensable to India’s success. That is the kind of reputation he had.

 

As an official of the touring India hockey teams during their glory years in the 1930s and 1940s, Pankaj Gupta was a father-figure to Dhyan Chand, Roop Singh, Allen, Tapsell, Jaffer, Claudius, Balbir and company. He earned everyone’s – Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Sikhs and all others including atheists and agnostics – respect for his transparency, generosity, complete lack of bias and no less for his knowledge of sports and sportsmen. He was a master in man-management. Supreme as a mentor he was, as the maestro Dhyan Chand always acknowledged.

 

In 1946 BCCI realized the need for a manager who would not bend according to external dictates. The ‘Amarnath incident’ of the previous tour of England in England rankled their conscience. Thankfully the BCCI selected the highly successful manager of the gold-medal winning Indian hockey team, Pankaj Gupta. On his first with the Indian cricket team to England in 1946, Pankaj Gupta made it apparent that he could not be taken lightly. Accordingly he was the obvious choice for the tour of Australia in 1947-48 where he spread his wings to earn laurels even from the cynical Aussie media as well as from The Don.

 

Before 1947 India played in the Olympics not as an independent nation, but as a British colony. Gupta motivated every player to regard himself a freedom-fighter battling for the cause of independent India. Dhyan Chand considered Pankaj Gupta to be his patron-saint. This was the approach he brought into the Indian cricket team

 

Dhyan Chand’s bonding with Gupta went far beyond the confines of the hockey ground. The great hockey wizard would seek his blessings on Guru Purnima. Whenever Dhyan Chand came to play at Calcutta, he would stay at Gupta’s residence.

 

Gupta could write and speak as the best. Courageous and forthright, the energetic man earned universal acclaim. His after-dinner speeches – a most essential formality of those ‘grand old’ days – could be bold and witty; courteous and commanding. At technical committee meetings his was always a dominating presence. No Indian team was taken for granted when mercurial Peter Gupta was at the helm.

 

Once when India was assigned to play an Olympic hockey match at an unscheduled time in the morning, Gupta insisted and got the match postponed to the originally scheduled evening hours. He had that kind of personality even in pre-independent India. Had Gupta been alive, the rules of hockey detrimental to India’s interests would not have been altered.

 

The highly respected sports journalist of yester-year, Sunil Bose was Pankaj Gupta’s junior colleague at Amrita Bazar Patrika in Calcutta. Gupta was the sports editor for 20 years at a time when the newspaper was associated with India’s freedom struggle. Sunil Bose, himself a State-ranked badminton player, related an amazing incident involving Pankaj Gupta and Nazi Germany.

 

 In 1936 when the Indian hockey team was at Berlin for the Olympics, assistant manager Pankaj Gupta rushed onto the road and forced Joseph Goebbels, the German propaganda minister, to stop his motorcade! The Nazi guards were taken aback. Before they could react, Gupta calmly walked up to the minister, shook hands with him and wished him on behalf of India as the common enemy of Great Britain!

 

No situation daunted him. No personality overwhelmed him. He was a self-made man with a passion for sport. His oratory gave India a shining image. His diplomacy made India a treasured friend. His passion for sports left him with no time for politicking. And so after almost of two decades of rare excellence, he became a victim at the hands of people he had helped to establish.

 

Gupta, as the manager of the Indian cricket team to England in 1952, selected Vinoo Mankad, who was omitted by the national selectors from the touring squad, to play the 2^nd Test at Lord’s! Mankad went on to display one of the greatest-ever individual all-round performances in the history of cricket. The match came to be known as ‘Mankad’s Test’. This incident itself is a fascinating story to relate. Another time. Another day.

 

Without the intervention of the mercurial manager Pankaj Gupta, Vinoo Mankad – among the greatest all-rounders in the world – would not have played the Test and it is highly doubtful whether he would ever have played for India again.

 

This was Gupta at his best. Once convinced, he would anything for India’s prestige. He had no time for personal gain or for personal fame. No selfish motive ever clouded his judgement. His mission was to uphold India’s image high in the international sports arena. A role he played with great distinction both at hockey as well as at cricket. Not for no reason did the high-principled, selfless maharajas of Patiala – Bhupindra Singh and followed by his son Yadavendra Singh – choose Pankaj Gupta to be with the Indian contingent, particularly hockey. The high-spirited administrators of the House of Patiala knew their man.

 

One incident in 1952 showed the exemplary attributes of the fearless man. A Test cricketer who had remained not out in the 1^st innings, having gone low in the batting order, loudly passed some awkward comments on the failures of other players. Skipper Hazare was too soft and gentle a person to react immediately.

 

 Not so his highly-charged manager, Gupta. Immediately Gupta retorted, “Your job is to bat for the country and not to criticize others. Let’s see what you can achieve in the 2^nd innings by going higher in the order.” The loud-mouth was sent at number 3, scored a nought and helped his nation to record the amazing start of 4 wickets down for zero runs!

 

That’s the kind of man Pankaj Gupta was. Extremely firm but extremely fair. Soft and sophisticated, at the same time strict and sharp. No player ever got any favoured treatment from him. The gold-medal winning hockey players worshipped him. The spoilt cricketers found him difficult to handle but had little option than to fall quickly in line! He cared for no administrator or political influence when the national cause was at stake. Wish Indian cricket had more managers like Pankaj Gupta. Apart from Polly Umrigar, Maan Singh, Raj Singh, Bishen Singh Bedi and Hanumant Singh in his own quiet way, very few Indian managers had the personality to dictate terms to our international cricketers.

 

Journalist Sunil Bose recounted another remarkable story relating to Pankaj Gupta and the India ‘double-international’ MJ Gopalan. Gopalan was an outstanding hockey player and a certainty for the Berlin Olympic Games in 1936. He was also an excellent medium-fast bowler who could swing the ball either way. He was chosen for the India cricket team on its tour of England in 1936.

 

Far-sighted Gupta knew it would be difficult for Gopalan to be in the Test team in 1936.  Confident and generous, Gupta advised, “Gopala, come with us to Berlin Olympic. You will get a gold medal.” Unfortunately the Tamil Nadu (then Madras) pacer opted for the cricket team, went to UK with Vizzy’s team and had to sit out every Test match. If only he had followed Pankaj Gupta advice…he would have been a part of Dhyan Chand’s men and had an Olympic gold medal around his neck.

 

I saw Pankaj Gupta just once, in 1969. He was the chief guest at a function organized by Mohun Bagan Athletic Club to honour the players from its various disciplines for winning all the local trophies. Chief guest Pankaj Gupta spoke for hardly five minutes. He lambasted the club officials for organizing such lavish functions instead of utilizing the money to provide more facilities to junior players. Even as a teenager, I could feel the integrity and the commitment inherent in him. 

 

Surprisingly for an Indian sports administrator, he was far, far above provincial or communal bias. He had no time for ‘favourites’. Media people with shallow ideas and statistical obsession often misunderstood him. But little did he care. None ever dared to confront him. No time he had for the influential. Nor would he suffer fools. He carved a distinct niche for himself.

 

While he earned wide respect from all his players, in India many influential sports administrators despised him but none found the courage to confront him. He became very popular among the sportspeople in India for his brave and unbiased approach. The Indian sports media however never gave him his rightful due.

 

When Sir Donald George Bradman with his wife landed at the Dum Dum airport in Calcutta in 1953 on their way to UK by Qantas Airways, they were pleasantly surprised to find Pankaj Gupta and former Test cricketer Probir Khokon Sen waiting for them at the lounge. These small but significant interactions gave Gupta a different dimension. This was the first and the only time Bradman had set foot on Indian soil. So happy was Sir Don that he was moved to say, “I wish Australia had come to India to play Tests during my playing days.”

 

Once a sports journalist asked him about the omission of a certain player from some matches at the London Olympics in 1948. Point-blank Pankaj Gupta raised his eye-brows, “Which team won the hockey gold in London? India? Then I do not care who played and who did not play. Never believed in favouritism or individualism. For me India first, India last, India in-between. Full stop.”

 

Erudite sports journalist Tapan Ghosh of Ananda Bazar Patrika met Pankaj Gupta several times at the latter’s Park Circus residence in Calcutta. Ghosh always maintained, “He was by far the best sports administrator we have ever had. Had a distinctive style and an excellent command of the English language. Amazing knowledge of sports history and the laws, particularly of hockey and cricket. Till the very end, he sported the famous Hitler-moustache and carried an ornamental walking stick.”

 

Once Gupta was asked by the eminent sports editor Rajan Bala, then of Hindustan Standard, “Don’t you think at times, by your actions, you went beyond your actual duties?” The broad hint about the Mankad issue of 1952 and the hockey team selection at London in 1948 was apparent.

 

The temperamental Gupta did not flare up. Slowly he emptied his Kudu smoking pipe and deliberately nursed his gin and tonic. With a cold stare, he explained, “Rajan, there is an unwritten spirit behind every law, rule, policy and convention. Whenever I found others were shirking their duty for self-interest, I rectified the matter with the national interest in mind.” Without a single reference, the highly intelligent man exposed the ignorance of his critics, whether they were administrators, journalists or players.

 

Indian Hockey Federation was established in the mid 1920s. One of the chief architects happened to be the stocky man from Chittagong (now in Bangladesh). Then in his twenties, the young man’s exceptional administrative prowess was not lost on the maharaja of Patiala, Bhupindra Singh, whose visionary spirit and awesome patronage paved the way for the development of India’s sport in the early days. Bhupindra’s son Yadavendra Singh too followed in his father’s foot-steps regarding Pankaj Gupta of Bengal.

 

Pankaj Gupta was the founder member of the National Cricket Club, which happened to be the custodian of Eden Gardens before CAB took over in the 1950s. Pankaj Gupta expired in 1971 after a glorious lifetime in the service of sport, particularly hockey and cricket.

 

CAB named the new indoor cricket facility at Eden Gardens after him. At its inauguration in 1979, as the current captain of the Bengal State team, I acknowledged that it was a privilege to be associated with Pankaj Gupta’s contribution to sport and described him as a sports ambassador nonpareil.

 

Although the Government of India could not find any award for him, ironically the British Government awarded him a MBE (Member of the British Empire) for his services to sports administration in 1944.

 

He was the perfect embodiment of a sports ambassador. Totally undaunted and forever free, all along Pankaj Gupta remained a singular man with a singular purpose: to uphold India’s prestige and image in the international sports arenas. Nothing Beyond, as we would say at Xavier’s, Nihil Ultra.

 

1.  

               

 

Chandu Borde: the noble warrior

 

Feroz Shah Kotla, Delhi, 1959. Fearsome Roy Gilchrist bounced. Courageous Chandu Borde stood tall and hooked. As the ball ricocheted off the boundary rails the crowd rose on its feet. Borde had just completed his 2^nd century of the match. Lo and behold, it was not to be. One bail was dislodged and the umpire raised his dreaded index finger. How could that possibly happen?

 

Out, hit wicket. The crashing hook shot was a certain boundary yet destiny decided otherwise. Borde’s 2^nd innings ended at 96. In the 1^st innings he had scored a very gutsy 109. Many players have scored two centuries in a match. It was nothing special. But this was a different kind of battle on the playing fields of India.

 

Gerry Alexander’s West Indies arrived on the Indian sub-continent in 1958-59 with two ebony rockets in the form of Roy Gilchrist and Wesley Hall. Alexander’s marauding army tore into the Indian defences as foreign invaders had done over the centuries. There was no respite. Territory after territory was lost; so were the Tests. The Indian selectors – Lala Amarnath, LP Jai, C Ramaswami and M Dutta Ray – picked 4 different captains for the 5 Tests!

 

Every time Chandu Borde went out to the crease he carried the national flag with him. For Borde, a patriot to the core, every innings was a duel to uphold the country's honour. He was a man of crises in the 1960s. Our man of inspiration; our man of hope.

 

In 1961-62 when Ted Dexter's England team had India in trouble at Eden Gardens, Borde (68 and 61; and 4 wickets) in tandem with Salim Durani (43 runs; 5 and 3 wickets) initially steadied the rocking boat, then held the wheel to steer to a vantage position and finally harpooned the opposition. With runs and wickets, the magnificent duo carried the day as India registered a rare victory.

 

In the next Test at Madras again they got their act together. Far from resting on their laurels, the two magnificent all-rounders proceeded to bring off another remarkable victory thereby enabling India to record her first-ever series victory over England. Borde with 5 wickets and Durani with 10 had skipper Nari Contractor smiling.

 

Within a couple of years Borde was again in the headlines as India out-paced Bobby Simpson's Australia at Bombay. It was an encounter of nail-biting possibilities with India needing 32 runs and Australia 2 wickets, and just about an hour left for stumps.

 

As Borde’s unperturbed, courageous figure emerged from the pavilion, a distinct sigh of relief could be heard all over the Brabourne Stadium. We need not have worried for the halo of Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj was on him. With rasping cuts and ferocious pulls, he plunged the dagger in and the arrogant Aussies lay prone in abject surrender. In the company of tail-enders, Borde (30 not out) was at his rampaging best and India got the required 32 runs in even time.

 

This was the man who came up from the ranks to the highest throne. Borde's tryst with international cricket began in 1958-59 when Gerry Alexander's hordes were literally decapitating all and sundry in the sub-continent. Never before or since did we see such a gruesome pair of demoniac fast bowlers as Roy Gilchrist and Wesley Hall. And in the 1950s the Indian pitches were neither feather-beds nor slow turners, but were hard and had a semblance of green on them.

 

On such pitches the cricket ball really flew. Some batters gamely tried to put up resistance but were laid low; others did not have the stomach to fight and made themselves unavailable. While all this was happening one Maratha warrior was preparing his strategy.

 

Like his hero Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, the guerilla-fighter in Chandu Borde knew that a few reverses did not matter as long as the main battle was won. Here the main battle was not the match-result but something far, far more important: the battle for national self-respect; the battle for motherland’s honour. The main issue was to remove the stigma of fright which seemed to have enveloped the land. Borde took it upon himself to prove to the cricketing world that the Indian was as courageous as any.

 

In such a scenario Chandrakant Gulabrao Borde's strategy was to meet fire with fire, steel with steel and in doing so he came out with his ‘head held high’ in the immortal words of the one and only Tagore.

 

 When Gilchrist bounced it was not Borde who ducked but the short-leg fielder as Borde's violent hook thudded against the boundary railing. When Hall's snorter arrived, Borde took a step back to make room and with a rasping square cut sent the ball crashing to the point fence. Even the lethal weaponry of Gary Sobers could not disturb the ever-smiling façade of our mighty warrior.

 

He made 109 in the first innings and, as if this was not enough, in the 2nd innings he rammed into the West Indies attack with a scorching 96; most unfortunately hitting his wicket in the act of ‘hooking’ a boundary to record what would have been two centuries in the match, thereby emulating his mentor Vijay Hazare, who was the first Indian to score two centuries in the same Test, at Adelaide in 1947-48.

 

Those two innings of Borde's have very deservingly gone down in the annals of Indian cricket as among the most courageous ever. Standing on his toes he would hook with his arms straight and full; he would draw away from the wicket to make room for those powerful, patented square cuts of his. Without hesitation, he would sail to the pitch of the ball to drive hard, high and handsome.

 

Yet, whenever the need arose the man would undergo a complete transformation. He would give the broadest face of the bat to the ball and with a sphinx-like trance provide sanity and security. His defence was solid and severe, granite and concrete. There were no visible signs of weakness while he held the bat aloft as a flag for the country.

 

Chandu Borde automatically came to be regarded as our principal batsman, but actually he was one of the leading all-rounders of the world in the first half of the 1960s. With a series of hops he would reach the bowling crease and then a vigorous turn of the firm wrists would produce a variety to baffle the batter.

 

He did not turn his leggies much but enough to do the damage. Moreover, his top-spin and his googly were so accurate and deceptive that many a reputation suffered at his hands. In combination with Salim Durani, his all-round ability won two successive Tests for India against Dexter's team in 1961-62.

 

There was no ivory touch to his life. Nothing ever came easy to him. He had to fight every inch of the way for every achievement. All along obstacles in varied forms crossed his path. After establishing himself as a top-flight leggie, he developed serious shoulder trouble and consequently we lost a match-winner of a bowler forever.

 

As a fielder in the deep, he was truly outstanding. Fit to be compared with Neil Harvey, Colin Bland, Tiger Pataudi and Clive Lloyd. Borde prowling in the cover region was a delight to watch and came to be known as the ‘Panther’. However, as the shoulder injury became a permanent nightmare, this was another sacrifice he was forced to make.

 

For a player as successful as he was at home, it was indeed astonishing to observe that Borde never did justice to his ability abroad. On both tours to England he did precious little. In 1959 in 7 Test innings came just 143 runs including scores of 41 and 75. In 1967 just 60 runs in 6 innings.

 

Nothing seemed to go right for him. We held our heads in remorse as his detractors said that he had technical deficiencies against the moving ball. Was it really true that he had an inherent apprehension of the green, gloomy English scenario? Ironical, indeed, for a man who had been a Lancashire league professional for Rawtenstall for years.

 

In West Indies, too, in 1962 we suffered as did his reputation. Apart from a brilliant innings of 93, Borde again left people confused with his string of failures. Merely 224 runs in 10 outings and only 6 wickets was certainly not the true worth of this top-class all-rounder.

 

Australia beckoned him in 1967-68. Here too his lack of success abroad haunted us as much as it disappointed him. In the Test at Adelaide he led India for the first and the only time of his career and played a very responsible knock of 69, and later had another innings of 61 but a total of 166 in 8 innings was indeed very disappointing. Later, however, in New Zealand he made amends, averaging 48.4 but by then his Test career was virtually over.

 

Why did he fail on every outing abroad? No convincing answer has been discerned. Some contemporaries felt that he altered his style of batting whenever he batted abroad. It appears he became too adventurous, too quick to take charge. If this is true, did he lack faith in his own time-tested abilities?

 

This is really unfortunate. Because Borde should have realised that his technique, temperament and skills had given him enough success against every international opposition at home. So there was no urgent need to change his natural style.

 

For ten long years, Chandu Borde's presence was a stabilising and steadying influence on the other members of the Indian team. He played the game with courage and conviction. Most importantly, however, he never compromised with the basic etiquette of this great game. It appeared that Polly Umrigar had passed on his baton to a most deserving successor. The gifted, gracious gentleman never showed any rancour or remorse even in the face of grave provocations. A very essential lesson to the heroes of future generations.

 

At 18 the callow Christian youth received his cricket baptism in the stoic environment of Deodhar's Maharashtra. In his debut match he upset Bombay's apple-cart with 55 and 61 not out, and then after another successful season transferred allegiance to Baroda, where under the watchful guidance of one Vijay Hazare his true potential began to flower. His final years were again with Maharashtra and at the end of 20 years he had 12,469 runs at 40.74 and 306 wickets at 27.04. Truly a magnificent career for an extra­ordinary cricketer.

 

 His Test career graph reveals a very impressive average of 35.59 with 5 centuries' and an aggregate of 3061 runs from 55 Tests. His highest being 177 at Madras against Pakistan in 1960-61. He captured 52 wickets before that unfortunate shoulder injury permanently stopped him from turning his arm round. His most successful bowling series was against Dexter's team in 1961-62 when he scalped 16 victims.

 

One of his best innings was at Brabourne Stadium against Sobers’ team in 1966. The Indian innings was in shambles 3 down for a meagre 14 (Sardesai 6, Jaisimha 4 and Baig 0) against the fast and furious pair of Hall and Griffith. In walked the reassuring figure of Chandu Borde. My cricket-mad friend from Mumbai, Pranay Mondkar, remembers, “With Tiger Pataudi (44), Borde took the pacers by the scruff of the neck and in a glorious exhibition of clean stroke-play proceeded to 121 valuable runs to lend respectability for a lost cause.” This was typical of Borde, the heroic warrior. When the chips were down, he was always at his best.

 

Chandu Borde was a modest man, ever smiling and helpful; gracious beyond compare. The way he assisted his juniors in the State and national sides is still spoken of in admiration.

 

My first meeting with him was in my debut season in 1972-73 at Poona where Bengal had gone to play Maharashtra in the Ranji Trophy quarter-final. Skipper Chandu Borde had retired from international cricket by then but still showed us what class was all about. He played around with Subroto Guha and Dilip Doshi to register an unbeaten double-hundred. Then had us in trouble with the giant Pandurang Salgaokar –India’s fastest since Nissar – at his fearsome best.

 

Gopal Bose and I managed a semblance of a fight in the innings defeat. Borde came to our dressing room and told Gopal, “I am sure you will play for India very soon.” Believe it or not, within a year Gopal went to Sri Lanka and scored a century and a half century in the two unofficial Tests he played.

 

Then the magnificent cricketer looked at me with his signature-smile, “Young man, why were you wearing a shirt torn at the back.” Before I could answer, my skipper Chuni Goswami, “Oh! He is crazy. He always wears torn shirts for batting. That’s his superstition!”

 

Chandu Borde was stunned, “What? What has superstition got to do with your batting? No, no. You seemed so relaxed against both spin and pace. Why should you be unnecessarily superstitious? By the way, were you murmuring something while batting?’ I somehow mumbled, “Sir, my torn shirts have brought me luck. And I keep praying while batting.”

 

Chandubhai looked towards Chuni-da with his typical broad smile, “Never heard of anything like this before. Chuni, please ask him to continue praying but not to wear torn clothes at cricket. Does not look right for a first-class cricketer.” I got the message of cricket etiquette that day. That was the last time I wore my torn shirt. Within a week, Sportsweek published my picture with the torn shirt on, going out to bat against Borde’s Maharashtra!

 

But this was not the end. The most amiable gentleman presented me with a cricket ball, “Keep it as a keepsake. You got a wicket with this ball.” I was truly floored. Little did I realize the import of this gift at the time.

 

While returning by Deccan Queen train, the Hindustan Standard cricket journalist Subroto Sirkar walked up the aisle to me and said, “Do you know you have equalled a world record?” I was dumbfounded. Subroto continued, “With your first delivery in first-class cricket you got a wicket. Very few have done so.” Sure enough, in the following edition of Wisden Book of Cricket Records, one Mukherji appeared in a short list! Borde’s gift of a ball I got mounted and kept it as a souvenir to remind me of the magnanimity of a great gentleman.

 

Despite being constantly harassed by certain sections in the media to drive a wide rift between him and his captain Pataudi, Borde to his eternal credit never fell for the trap. He had the highest praise for Pataudi. This by itself was quite an achievement in the atmosphere of intrigue and conspiracy that still plagues the Indian dressing room.

 

As a national selector he was truly outstanding. A shining example of what an enlightened selector can help to achieve. Borde brought all his knowledge and experience in selecting national teams. Along with Ghulam Ahmed and Bishen Bedi, the presence of Chandu Borde gave sanity to the proceedings while selecting the India team for the world cup in 1983.

 

The other two selectors, Chandu Sarwate and Pankaj Roy did not find the time to attend the selection committee meeting. Thankfully so. The ‘quota players’ vanished overnight.

 

The 1983 world cup team was selected with ‘horses for courses’ in mind. On English seaming, breezy conditions genuine medium pacers who could ‘move’ the ball in the air and off the seam were chosen. The emphasis on fielding was paramount. Batsmen who possessed the spirit and the skill to ‘strike the ball’ when required were preferred.

 

Most importantly ‘quota players’ who had proliferated in the previous two seasons were totally ignored. Finally a strict man of distinguished presence – Maan Singh of Hyderabad – was appointed by BCCI at the helm to put difficult people into shape. All these were possible because the trio of selectors had the national cause in mind. The rest, as the cliché goes, is history…

 

My two idols Salim Durani and Chandu Borde came to Eden Gardens at the inauguration of my book Eden Gardens: Legend & Romance. Both gave heart-warming speeches. Borde further mentioned that Eden Gardens had never turned its back on him.

 

 The clear-cut features with a cultured voice related, “Having failed in two earlier Tests when I went out to bat at Eden against Benaud’s Aussies in 1959 I heard voices shouting, ‘Borde, tu khelna chhorde’. Upsetting yes, but my guru Vijay Hazare always used to say ‘Your job is to answer on the field’. Believe it or not, on my way back to the pavilion the shout had changed to ‘Borde, dada tumi guru!’ That’s Calcutta for me.”  For the record, Borde played a lion-hearted innings of 50 against the likes of Davidson, Meckiff and Benaud and saved India from a certain defeat in the company of Ramnath Kenny (62) and Jaisimha (74).

 

Over the years met him a couple of times at Sunil Banerjee’s residence at Calcutta. Borde and SK Banerjee shared seasons of club cricket in England and their friendship blossomed as the years went by. To me the magnificent cricketer’s modesty, knowledge, relaxed bearing and charming manner had all the signature-tunes of a man of true ‘class’.

 

Borde served Indian cricket in every possible capacity: player, captain, coach, manager and selector. In every sphere he left behind an indelible print of a man of high integrity. To this highly distinguished man all the deserving awards followed: Arjuna, Padma Shree and Padma Bhushan in due time. His popularity around the country, even after he had left the game as a player, was bewildering to say the least. He richly deserved every smile, every handshake, every nod, every autograph and photograph request. He was in the right sense of the term ‘the people’s man’.

 

To me, Chandu-bhai shall always remain a gentleman cricketer of the highest ideals. He was a warrior with a rare nobility of mind. Magnanimous and generous to a fault, he was actually the heroic Karna, a courageous warrior with a noble heart. May his tribe increase.

 

 

 

The inseparable trio: Raja, Rana and Raju

Our lives got entangled from May, 1965. CAB had organized a cricket coaching camp at Calcutta’s Deshopriyo Park for south Calcutta-based trainees. Three young hopefuls arrived with their heads shaved: after-effects of recent upanayan or mundan ceremony. All three had four-letter names beginning with R: Raja, his twin Rana and Raju. It was a case of instant rapport. An association that only death could tear apart.

The similarities continued in various ways but the contrasts were more apparent. Raja and his twin brother Rana had nothing in common except their dates of birth and upanayan. Raja hated conflicts yet controversies courted him throughout his life. He liked the simple pleasures of life but his life was full of complex issues. He loved to rest and relax but he never got the scope to feel comfortable. His was indeed a very unusual life-style.

When Raja first played for Bengal Schools in 1965 he was primarily a wicket-keeper batsman. Such was his natural talent that he went for the trials of the Indian Schoolboys team as a wicket-keeper. His leg-side gathering was absolutely top quality: safe and delectable. Soft hands and excellent anticipation were his forte.

 His approach to batting was exemplary: cool and confident; superb defensive technique and safe aggression. An ideal opener he was. Men of the vision of Hemu Adhikari, Khandu Rangnekar and Vijay Merchant were extremely impressed by his temperament and technique.

Prior to the England tour with the Indian Schoolboys team in the summer of 1967, at the trials the selectors were so impressed by his batting skills that he was asked to concentrate on his batting and to give up the stumper’s job. In fact when the Indian Schoolboys flew to Heathrow, Raja Mukherji and Syed Kirmani went as batsmen. The wicket-keeper’s slot went to the best of the lot, AAS Asif of Hyderabad (later settled abroad).

After the stupendous success in England of both Raja Mukherjee and his Bengal-mate Dipankar Sarkar, the unorthodox leggie, both were immediately playing first-class cricket for Bengal and East Zone. Both needed jobs and the Indian Railways offered them employment. Thus they departed from east zone to play in the north zone for the combined Indian Railways team based at Delhi.

Raja’s problems began almost immediately. Although he scored two consecutive centuries in the north zone Ranji Trophy ties, he was overlooked for the Duleep Trophy matches. Not used to set-backs, this omission hurt him to such an extent that he decided that he would give up his job and return to the folds of Bengal. He just could not get used to the environment available for the railway lads at Delhi at the time: railway-coach accommodation; meager food rations; squalid surroundings.

Raja was a very soft and sensitive soul.  Lost his armed-forces father early in life to an accident and was brought up by his widowed mother in straitened circumstances at her brothers’ family residence at Gariahat in south Calcutta. Raja never quite had the confidence of youth. Perpetually anxious, he gave every indication of a young man in need of assistance.

After a few seasons with Railways he returned to Bengal but by then the highly talented youngster was in a different world altogether. Our earlier association of school days was missing. Although psychologically close, we hardly met. I was deeply into my studies and Raja joined the Fertilizer Corporation of India at its Calcutta office.

Then in 1972 Raja and I were playing together for Bengal and East Zone. Unfortunately he never received the support he needed around this time from his peers. Some senior players appeared to be distinctly jealous of his early successes. Once when Raja had scored two centuries in successive Ranji Trophy matches and was going for his third, the Bengal innings was declared with Raja stranded at 84. There was no conceivable reason for the declaration. We had already got the 1^st innings lead against a strong Bihar combination and the match was heading for a tame draw. But one could make out that sheer envy was the real and the only reason for the declaration.

On several occasions he was dropped from the XI and Bengal’s reserve stumper was played as an opener instead! Players who were nowhere near him by any yardstick of comparison whether in terms of potential or performance were preferred because they belonged to powerful lobbies. Such instances are very common in India and have been happening for the last 100 plus years.

But not everyone can accept such injustices easily. Raja happened to be one of them. He fell into a nadir of depression. He just could not be brought out of his shell. It was sheer hell for this highly sensitive man. He became over sentimental for no fault of his own. No amount of medication could help him to recover. He seemed to have fallen into a pit of ‘no-return’. The subtle wit of his had evaporated, although the charming smile remained. Our happy times at Shantiniketan with Raja rendering superlative Tagore songs in his soulful voice were gone forever.

The natural talent was nipped in the bud. Men who were supposed to be guiding young hopefuls hardly did justice to their job. He seemed all at sea till a lady from Assam married him and extended the much-needed support. In time their wonderful daughter and her matured husband took complete charge and gave Raja the rest that he deserved. His early life was full of successes; his mid-life crisis extended to old age but thankfully his final years were full of health, happiness and bonhomie with his grand-daughter. He died in the full knowledge that his family members were all safe and sound. He most certainly deserved the grace that God blessed him with in his last years.

Born in May 1951, his early success gave every indication that he was Test match material as an opener. In 1967 in England he scored a superlative century at Birmingham and was promised a financial award by a Bollywood film actor. After the media publicity surrounding the actor’s ‘benevolence’ subsided, the actor most conveniently forgot about the offer! The financial bonanza of a prize – Raja desperately needed it at the time – never did arrive!

Later in 1968 Raja led the Indian Schoolboys to Australia. There he received his compensation thousand times over when Sir Don took time to spend with the Hemu Adhikari-managed kids. The photograph of Raja with the Greatest-Ever is certainly his most prized possession.

One serious misconception needs to be rectified. Sunil Gavaskar and Raja Mukherji never played together for Indian Schoolboys. When Gavaskar played against the London Schoolboys in India, his opening partner was Ramesh Nagdev, a dashing opener, who later settled abroad.

In his last first-class match for Bengal Raja Mukherjee helped my team to win outright against Orissa in a very low-scoring match at his favourite Eden Gardens. Despite a runner he stayed at the crease till the job was complete. He ignored the excruciating pain of a pulled muscle and held on. The selectors decided to rest him for the next match to help him to recover.

Unfortunately his twin brother Rana made some unnecessary caustic remarks against the selectors in the following day’s newspaper. The selectors were livid. Raja was never chosen again. He paid the price for someone else’s over-reaction.

That’s how his life spanned out. His whole life seemed to be guided by others! Lost a real gentleman-friend who was far above all pettiness in life. Even in distress, the handsome face never lost its charming, innocent smile. I know Anandamayi Ma will always be beside my soul-mate.

 

 

Erapalli Prasanna: the champion spin-wizard

 

Erapalli Prasanna was the man who began the trend of superlative Karnataka players in the national team. He was the pioneer who brought the erstwhile Mysore into cricketing limelight with his magical fingers and fertile brain. In his peak he also happened to be the best off-spinner in the world who earned the highest the respect of the best of batsmen from around the globe. Hardened, cynical critics too had no option but to rate him as among the best off-spinners to have graced the game.

The diminutive, rotund man hardly looked to be a cricketer. He did not possess the tell-tale signs of a sportsman. Not many would give him a second look. No presence, no charisma. But with a ball in hand at the bowler's end, he achieved gigantic proportions. Made life miserable for batters. He made the best of international batsmen dance to his tunes.

Erapalli Anantrao Prasanna was a conjurer. A man with magic in his fingers. He knew the art of how to cast a voodoo spell. He would coax and cajole; confuse and condemn. The art of spinning was embedded within the marrow of his fingers. But he was not a mere spinner who would use his fingers only. He used his brains. Brought into the art of finger spin the academic orientation of a qualified engineer.

If his physique gave a false impression, his action was no less. A few short steps and out would come a tossed-up delivery. Nothing unusual; just the plain routine action that every orthodox spinner would indulge in. But that tossed-up ball had a spell of voodoo within. It would turn a yard at times; may be just a couple of inches on occasions. But then it would also hang in mid-air at Prasanna's will, of course, before its descent.

Amazingly he could make the off-spin delivery bounce as high as an orthodox wrist spinner. Goodness knows how he did it! But this was not the end of the problems for batsmen. He would, I am certain, utter some mantras and the off-spinning ball would swerve towards the slips. Made life intolerable for batters in the 1960s and 1970s.

When Prasanna began his first class career for Karnataka (then Mysore) way back in 1961 he immediately attracted attention. People who knew their cricket realized that the young off-spinner was not an average trundler. His repertoire confounded even seasoned cricket critics. They were dazed to find that an off-spinner could possess such a wide spectrum of variations. He was in reality like a Spiderman, ready for all eventualities. Most certainly an off-spinner to be in the same bracket as Jim Laker, Hugh Tayfield and Lance Gibbs.

Within three months of his first-class debut he was called to represent India against Ted Dexter's England in the final Test at Chepauk in 1962. At the time of his Test debut he had played just two Ranji Trophy and one Duleep Trophy matches. Although he did not set tongues wagging with a bountiful of wickets his sedate statistics of 1 for 39 off 20 overs created a favourable impression. Within a few months he was found packing his bags for the ill-fated tour of West Indies in 1962 under Nari Contractor.

That was a tour of misfortunes. Skipper Contractor was laid low with a near-fatal injury. The team was thrashed 5-0. Total black-wash. Most of the reputed players had a trying time. In that shambles Prasanna did get to play a Test match. In the 2nd Test at Kingston he bowled well enough to take 3 wickets for 122 off 50 overs. The wickets included three top batters in the order: McMorris, Kanhai and Rodriguez. The young spinner had the mortification to see a Sobers’ catch eluding the wicket-keeper. But in the best tradition of Indian cricket, he was overlooked for the rest of the series!

In fact for the next five years Prasanna's name did not appear in the Indian team. No one has been able to fathom the reason for his exclusion and banishment. Why on earth was this talented young man sidelined? Especially after he had taken the wickets of numbers 2, 3 and 4 in the West Indies batting order and had the great Sobers in trouble.

However Prasanna can consider himself extremely fortunate that he did not have in undergo the trauma that befell Shute Banerjee of Bihar and Montu Banerjee of Bengal. In 1949 both played one Test each and took 5 wickets each and were never considered for India again! Later in 1991 in a repeat edition we foundmanager Abbas Baig and skipper Azharuddin saw to it that Subroto Banerjee of Bihar did not get another chance after capturing 5 Aussie wickets for just 40 odd runs in 18 overs! Indian cricket is full of mysterious incidents and callous men in power. Thank God, Pras was not on the same boat.

Prasanna spent his years in oblivion concentrating on his engineering studies and was honing the skills of his craft with all the thorough application of an intelligent youth. In 1967 when Gary Sobers' West Indies had come down to play South Zone, Prasanna bowled like a champion capturing 8 wickets and earned himself a berth in the last and final Test at Chepauk. This time yet again he was among wickets, securing 2 for 118 off 41 and 3 for 106 off 37.

Now with Pataudi firmly in the saddle, Prasanna's fortunes looked rosy. Pataudi knew class and was ever willing to respect and respond to it. For his part Prasanna was a transformed man. He realized that that had found the environment he needed.

Gone were the apprehensions of old. Now the confident man knew he had a skipper who valued his ability. Now he could experiment at will: toss and tease, No longer would there be those grumpy faces asking him to bowl tight and keep the runs down. For a man of Prasanna's ability who enjoyed ‘flighting’ challenges to batters, to bowl flat was akin to committing harakiri.

On the tour of England in 1967 the Indians fared miserably in the wet first half of the summer. The spinners particularly had difficulty in gripping the ball. Prasanna took just 2 wickets in the first two Tests but in the 3rd Test in the warmth of the July sun he had a match analysis of 7 for 111 off 44 overs. One could already sense that the four young Indian spinners were gradually coming into limelight. Bedi, Chandrasekhar and Venkataraghavan were also on that tour and looked well set to complement each other.

Then came the twin tour of Australia and New Zealand in 1968-69. On this trip Prasanna came into his own and confounded all and sundry. On the rock-hard Australian pitches where finger spinners have been known to be battered and bruised, Prasanna relished the challenge and thrived as very few orthodox off-spinners have done before or since. On those pitches the finger spinners would have their fingers ripped off trying to achieve any semblance of turn, yet it was here under the most foreboding of circumstances that Erapalli Prasanna established his credentials as among the best off-spinners of the world.

In 4 Tests he took 25 wickets at 27.44 and had men like Lawry, Stackpole, Ian Chappel, Walters, Redpath in no end of trouble. He had them on a leash as it were and made them do his bidding. He was simply unplayable and showed the world that he had it in him to be compared to great off-spinners like Hugh Tayfield (South Africa) and Lance Gibbs (West Indies) who had achieved success on the sun-baked surfaces of Australia in the post-War period. Even the great off-spinner Jim Laker was a failure in Australia.

Prasanna's success in Australia is based on the classic truth that a spinner bowls not with his fingers but with his brains. Prasanna always had a wide repertoire and now with his new-found self confidence he began to experiment.

He used the crease to change the angle of delivery. He flighted his deceptive deliveries by varying the distances. He bowled the ‘straighter one’ in different hues: one straight forward to lull the batter into a false sense of security and the other to deceive him into oblivion. And, of course, the deceptive floater was always at hand to confuse and confound.

On the New Zealand leg of the tour, he literally had them on the run. In just 4 Tests he scalped 24 victims at the fantastic rate of 18.79. All this was happening not on ‘designer pitches’ for spinners but on tracks prepared for pace bowlers. How did he achieve such phenomenal performances so consistently is a point to ponder upon.

As if this was not enough he waited their arrival in India in the winter of 1969-70. Against New Zealand he had no less than 20 wickets in only 3 Tests. This was followed by a haul of 26 against Australia in 5 Tests. At New Delhi, Prasanna and Bedi with 9 wickets each won the match for India.

But with Pataudi's downfall from the India captaincy, Prasanna received a setback. It seemed that he did not get the same response from his new captain, Ajit Wadekar. Owing to injury he played just 3 Tests in West Indies where he got 11 wickets; but by the time the India team landed in England in 1971 the writing was on the wall: Prasanna's opportunities would be limited.

So it was. Prasanna was not required to play a single Test. However, to be fair to Wadekar it must be readily admitted that Wadekar did use Prasanna at home in 1972-73 against England in 3 of the Tests. True to his undoubted ability Prasanna responded by winning two Tests in the company of Bedi and Chandrasekhar. He did go with Wadekar to England in 1974 but on that disastrous tour he did himself less than justice taking just 3 wickets in two Tests at 89.00.

However with the arrival of Pataudi at the helm once again, this time against Clive Lloyd's strong West Indies side in 1974, Prasanna seemed to have got his rhythm back. Once again the old magic had returned and once again whenever he turned his arm round, a host of fielders around the bat would be kept busy. He had 15 wickets in 5- Tests including 8 at Chennai which India won.

 

 

Although not known for his batting qualities, Prasanna actually had been associated in vital partnerships in times of need. At Kingston in 1971he gave invaluable support to Dilip Sardesai (212) in a partnership of122 runs. Again on that same trip, at Trinidad he and Solkar added 53for the 9th wicket.

 He led Karnataka with distinction from early 1970s and could be said to be associated with many of the younger players who came into national reckoning after he and Chandrasekhar had showed them the way. He took 957 first class wickets at 23.45 in a cricket career spanning almost two decades.

 

He had a unusual way of verbally irritating batters. In a Ranji Trophy tie at Eden Gardens, Karnataka scored about 490 and Bengal had the uphill task to chase the score on the 3^rd and 4^th day’s pitch against the wiles of Chandra and Pras. Ambar Roy proceeded to play a delightful knock and kept going beyond his century.

 

 Unfortunately the other batters could not give him adequate support and Bengal’s innings ended at about 400 runs. I was fully set and trying to help Ambarda when Pras said, “Young man, good going.” I ignored him. He repeated,” C’mon, say something. I am speaking to you.” Again I just smiled.But that was enough to lose my concentration. Sanjay Desai fielding at deepish silly mid-on latched on to a stinging on-drive and I left at 35. Ambar Roy's magnificent effort went waste because we could not give him adequate support.

 

After the match a grinning Pras merely said, “I just love to talk while bowling, young man.” His wit, his charm, his intelligence did not require any slang words, any offensive gestures to tease batters. Just a few smart words were enough to rattle one’s concentration. That’s the way this very bright man functioned.

 

Unfortunately his fielding never blossomed. Never probably gave much thought to it. Never appeared to enjoy it. Actually it was his lack of physical fitness which took away the versatility from his bowling. How I wish he had turned down the last two trips abroad, one to Australia in 1977-78 and the other to Pakistan in 1978-79. He was hauled over the coals by a mediocre set of Aussie cricketers, just 6 wickets at 46.50. And then the Pakistani stroke players signed his death knell extracting an analysis of 125.50 for the loss of only two victims.

 It has always been a mystery to me as to why our cricketers cannot follow the examples of Merchant, Umrigar and Gavaskar and retire while in full bloom.  Erapalli Prasanna played 49 Tests for India and captured 189 wickets at an average of 30. Without an iota of doubt he was rated to be among the best off-spinners in the world while at his peak.

 

An academic personality with exceptional cricketing skills. He remains among the greatest of spinners produced by India.