Bishan Singh Bedi

 

“Whatever touched his heart, unloosened his tongue” to quote political scientist Wayper on Jean Rousseau, the legendary political philosopher and social activist. In a nut-shell that is the apt description of my Bishan. Bishan Singh Bedi happens to be the Rousseau of the world of cricket.

 

Much lauded and more maligned, my Bishan is not an individual who would run away from challenges fearing loss of image or whatever.

At the first hint of injustice, without a care for the morrow Bishan, like Rousseau, would be the first to raise his voice and the first into the scene of battle. If need be, he would go ahead alone and not look around for support, exactly as Rabindranath Tagore had visualized: Jodi tor dak shunay keo na ashey, tobay ekla chalo ray (If nobody answers your call, do it alone.)

 

Bishan Bedi is the synonym for high moral principles. At the same time a direct antithesis of tact. He would not deviate into diplomacy for the sake of sacrificing truth. No one – not even his sworn enemies – can ever accuse him of hypocrisy. He would be highly proactive for any just cause. 

 

Admittedly over the years he has paid a heavy penalty for this admirable quality of his. But he would not have had it otherwise. Fear of authority never crossed that raised turban of this proud Sikh of the martial race.

 

It is to his immense credit that as a cricket captain he inspired a host of young players to attain heights beyond their inherent abilities. He gave his team-mates freedom and respect. He fought tooth and nail for them. He left his stamp of character with every act of his.

 

But he was a terrible judge of people. He hated flatterers and fiends but that was precisely what he eventually had beside him always. Invariably he was left stranded by the very men he had helped to find moorings in cricket as well as in life. People, who benefitted immensely from him, made dirty noises invariably behind his back.

 

Again to his credit, he had no time for his critics or for prima donnas. He treated all men as equals. No wonder it was under his leadership that the young Indian brigade put up a rare show of fortitude as they chased over 400 runs to win a Test match. This was at Trinidad in 1976 against the likes of Holding, Roberts and company at a time when the West Indies avalanche crushed all obstructions to smithereens.

 

He was man of very high idealism. Once in 1979 at Sahiwal he forfeited an ODI match to Pakistan. When he found that the Pakistani umpires were not following the spirit of the noble sport by allowing bumpers beyond limit, Bishen decided to close the innings and consequently to forfeit the match!

 

On another occasion he declared India’s innings closed at Kingston in Jamaica when the West Indies fast bowlers launched a bumper-attack aiming at the body of the Indian batters. A distinct case of non-violent resistance that would have made one MK Gandhi glow in pride.

 

Bedi’s candid logic was that cricket was no war, just a game. The moment he realized that the umpires were unwilling to use their discretion and allowed the conventional tradition of the noble game to be trampled upon, the patriotic man decided that he and his countrymen would not be a part of the fracas.

 

In time the ‘spirit of cricket’ code became a vital part in the MCC Laws of Cricket to enable umpires and match referees to take strict actions. Unfortunately the man, whose daredevilry made the idea of the code possible, never got any credit for it. Not even a mention for his proactive contribution.

 

Bedi, the supreme classical stylist was nature’s gift to cricket. To him the game came much ahead of petty considerations of victory and defeat. To him the end did not justify the means. Nothing, just nothing could shake him away from the firm resolve that cricket was a game for the mentally tough who could take the rough with the smooth. But it was a game nevertheless and certainly no war.

 

His open personality and liberal views invited confrontation. Bishan crossed swords with authority not because he relished duels but because they gave him little option. People in power could not tolerate his courage, his convictions. Even players whom he had nursed and nurtured stayed away from him lest they got branded. Never bothered to curry favours with the Establishment, neither DDCA, BCCI nor ICC.

 

Bishan could indeed be a very hard task-master, more so to his own self and to his own mates. He would brook no compromise. Inevitably enough in a scenario short on principles, the man of principles found himself marginalized. Throughout his active cricket career and beyond he had to carry a very high burden for his non-compromising stance.

 

If in life he was in perpetual hurry, at the bowling crease he was an exact antithesis. From a rhythmic classical pose – a model for sculptors – the bearded ‘sardar’ would tantalizingly tease. For him flight did not mean merely tossing the ball up. His flight was a deceptive trajectory that would curl in mid-air; aerial geometry perplexing the best of batters. The arc would curve variable paths at his beck and call.

 

When people thought that one-day cricket had no place for spinners, he enjoyed a hearty laugh when those supple fingers of his produced a match analysis of 12-8-6-1. Against East Africa in the Prudential World Cup of 1979. But knowing the man, I am certain that he would have preferred to bag a few more wickets in the process.

 

Bishan belonged to a period when Indian spinners were doing magic with the ball in hand. They were genuine spinners. Men who made the ball rotate on flight. Not the kind to trundle slow stuff and create an impression of being spinners. No, no, far from it. Bishan's contemporaries believed a spinner should be able to turn even on a billiard table-top. And that was precisely what they achieved.

 

They relished the friendly rivalry and banter among themselves. They were beyond comparison. They complimented and contrasted among themselves. Yes, they were lucky to have spinning tracks at home in the 1970s, but what about their successes abroad? On the hard sun-baked pitches of Australia as well as on the grassy tracks in England and New Zealand? Actually Bishan and his spinning-companions never bothered about surfaces and conditions to display their skills.

 

On the last day of December 1966 Bishan Bedi made his Test debut at the iconic Eden Gardens against Garfield Sobers' side. Just a few weeks earlier he had created a wonderful impression while bowling against the tourists for the all-India combined university side as well as for the Board President's XI.

 

Thankfully a liberal-minded captain like Tiger Pataudi realized the worth of the gem placed at his disposal, carefully gave it shape and polish. But did not unnecessarily interfere and allowed him full freedom to develop his art and personality.

 

This was just the kind of mentorship that Bishan needed: a guiding hand without unnecessary curbs. And this was the kind of guidance Bedi himself would give to youngsters when he was the captain of India, North Zone and Delhi.

 

When Bishan began his tryst with Test cricket there were established left-arm spinners in India with impeccable credentials like Padmakar Shivalkar and Rajinder Goel. But the moment the young sardar went left-arm round-the-wicket, he went over his generation of left-arm spinners.

 

 Such was the subtlety of his free-flowing action that people who had come with sardonic smiles were made to sit up and take notice. Even old-timers, highly critical of modern men, had to nod their heads in appreciation. They realized that they were witnessing a classical charmer in action.

 

As captain he did wonders for Delhi and North Zone teams. He made them believe in themselves. In his time Delhi and North Zone were feared teams and a whole lot of outstanding cricketers came into national reckoning. Instilled confidence into them and allowed them to blossom. Bishan's major contribution was that he guided young cricketers to believe in their own selves.

 

Bishan Bedi was and remains a pioneer in many respects. He was among the first Indians to come from an unfancied city (Amritsar) to become an international cricket legend. He was among the first to break the stranglehold of Bombay who monopolized the domestic Indian cricket championships. He was most surely the first in northern India to help the deserving regional youngsters to find their feet in the uncertain world of Indian cricket.

 

He was the first among our national selectors who had the courage to identify and select ‘horses for courses’ when it came to choosing the national teams. And most importantly he was the first to vehemently protest at the international stage when the game of cricket was reduced to a street-fight.

 

However, all these impeccable pioneering qualities do little justice to this ubiquitous personality. Unique though those attributes were, he was primarily an artiste. As with all genuine people of art he was a philosopher and a social activist.

 

Even Bishan’s critics will admit that the turbaned Sikh had tremendous faith in himself. His confidence level and the sense of self-respect were exemplary. Invariably enough, he was always fighting for a selfless cause, however difficult it might appear to be.

 

During the course of his life’s journey, he trod on many toes. Powerful, influential ones. But he had no regrets. Never bothered about who or how many were with him. He was always a singular man with a definite purpose. If no one came to assist, he would go forward alone without bothering about the consequences.

 

His best quality was that he could be your dearest friend and at the same time your prime adversary. Depending totally on the issue at hand. This sterling quality comes only to a very few. Thankfully Bishan had loads of it. This was the characteristic that kept him apart from most others.

 

Magnanimous to a fault, Bishan had the knack of applauding an opponent for an exquisite stroke, even off his own bowling. I can vouch as a recipient. He was known to go across to the opponent’s dressing room for a chat. These came naturally to him for he enjoyed companionship.

 

He was the opposing captain when I made my first-class debut against North Zone at Feroz Shah Kotla in 1972. We won the very low-scoring encounter but not once did I see him lose his magnanimous bearing. If he inspired his own mates, he inspired me no less as a man and as a captain.

 

Never seen him lower his high moral code to take an undue advantage, even if it was legal and available. Never seen him lose his cool and composure on the field. Never saw him lose his dignified presence on or off the field.

 

But he would be the first to object if he found any wrong being done. Tony Greig and John Lever got a taste of his medicine in 1976 when they were illegally applying some artificial substance to the ball. Bishan was forever a patriot. The so-called professionalism of the mercenary never crossed his mind as Northamptonshire CC cut short his contract because of this incident.

 

India’s first series victory in 1969 was not taken seriously because at the time New Zealand was considered to be a weak opposition. But their ‘home’ conditions the Kiwis were a formidable lot. Tiger Pataudi’s men did wonders with Bedi and Prasanna among the principal wicket-takers. A major turning point of Indian cricket was the twin overseas victories of Wadekar’s men in West Indies and England in 1971. Bishan was a prominent contributor on both tours.

 

Even after retirement, his contribution was impeccable. Bedi took the initiative to be the chief architect who chose the 1983 world cup squad. For the first time India sent a team with the ‘horses for courses’ policy. Brilliant fielders, genuine swingers, lion-hearted batters brought forth a stunning result beyond all comprehension.

 

Salute to our national selectors where Bishan along with Chandu Borde and Ghulam Ahmed played a very prominent role for their unbiased, non-provincial approach. The east zone and central zone representatives were absent at the selection committee meeting! The appointment of Maan Singh as manager was a master-stroke as Maan’s personality and integrity played a crucial role during the campaign.

 

Bishan Bedi was born 50 years too late. His ideologies, his mannerisms, his conduct were of an earlier generation when values had some value. He was a complete misfit of his contemporary times and beyond. He was aghast at the dreadful cronyism and the hypocrisy around him. Frustrated, he could not afford to keep silent.

He became a rebel because of the prevailing circumstances; not because he loved rebellion.

 

It was his unique protests during international encounters against West Indies at Kingston in 1976 and against Pakistan at Sahiwal in 1978 that coerced MCC – years later – to bring about the page on ‘spirit of cricket’ to precede the laws of cricket. Thankfully all over the cricket world the concept of ‘spirit of cricket’ became the guiding pole-star. But the man who rebelled and forced the change never got his recognition. Not that he cared. That is the ultimate beauty of this selfless soul.

 

The Northern Punjab debutant first saw Test cricket in the first Test match he played. His baptism was literally in flames. He saw first-hand how a cricket-loving crowd could flare up and give the Establishment a run for its life.

 

When on 1st January of 1967 ‘daily’ tickets were sold far in excess of the ground capacity in the erstwhile Ranji Block, true to the tradition of the Eden Gardens, cricket followers from every section of the ground erupted in anger.

 

Cricket lovers chased the inefficient police and thrashed the corrupt officials to vent their feelings. It was a lesson not to be forgotten. Later when Bishan fought officialdom and peers he knew that there was nothing to fear about when one fought for the correct cause.

 

Very few are blessed to appreciate fine art. Fine art is most certainly a subjective matter. Cannot be calculated, measured or weighed. It is in the eyes, ears and mind of the beholder. How would you evaluate Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo? How would one compare Mohammed Rafi to Kishore Kumar? The moment we try to bring in material tools of evaluation we do an injustice to the concept of fine art.

 

This has been a perpetual problem in Indian sport. We are forever counting runs and wickets; averages and aggregates; appearances and goals. Little do we realize that all such figures will evaporate in future. In time someone else with more opportunities, better equipments, easier conditions, different techniques, wider media publicity will overtake the earlier performers. Does it mean that Ranji and Bradman, O’Reilly and Larwood were inferior to the post-war and modern-day stars?

 

Every era would produce its champions. A genuine champion of one era would also be a genuine champion of another era if that was possible. These hypothetical comparisons are odious and do serious injustice to the former greats.

 

Unfortunately, Bishan Bedi and players of his artistic ilk have always been judged on calculators. Although Bishan’s statistical figures are of the highest category contributing towards many distinguished Test victories, yet it is primarily his artistic talents that have delighted generations of cricket connoisseurs.

 

Most unfortunately the media played up the subtle differences between Sunil Gavaskar and Bishan Bedi. Actually, they complemented each other as the leading towers of the modern Indian cricket super-structure, so very carefully put together by the magnificent presence of the one and only Polly Umrigar.

 

Over to 1980 at Eden Gardens. Bengal was hosting Delhi in a Ranji Trophy quarter-final duel. Star-studded Delhi with 11 international players defeated a young Bengal side in a close-contested match. Bishan and I were the rival leaders. After the match, Bishan came to our dressing room and said, “Gallant fight-back, lads. All the best.” Smiled at me, “Raju, despite being the highest scorer in the match, you are in the losing team. That’s the irony of life.” What a lesson in the easiest of languages from a most magnanimous gentleman.

 

The magical rhythm of his twinkling toes, the slow curve of his arms, the subtle wait, the trademark thumb impression on the ball of the non-bowling arm and the impassive vein gave him a halo that sent shivers of excitement to those fortunate enough to have seen him in action.

 

He was primarily an artist with the cricket field as his canvas. There were no high-fives, no vulgar gestures. The artist was content to accept the applause with a disarming smile. That was and still very much remains my Bishan Singh Bedi in excelsis…

 

 

 

 

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