Bhagwat Chandrasekhar

 

He was something special. Rare vintage. Unique of flavour. Extraordinary of essence. Never in the long history of international cricket have we come across a player with such unusual characteristics.

 

Bhagwat Subramanya Chandrasekhar unwittingly came into the cricket scenario to show contempt at all the established norms. He rattled the conventional theories to smithereens. But he was not rude in his method. Rather he kept smiling his way into the hearts of the people as one pillar of orthodoxy after another tumbled.

 

Within 3 months of making his Ranji Trophy debut for Karnataka (then Mysore) he was selected at 18 to play the Mumbai Test against Mike Smith's England team in 1963-64.

 

Critics, who had sniggered that his non-rhythmic bowling run-up would tire him out early, vanished early enough themselves as he bowled 40 overs for just 67 runs! In between however, he confounded the ‘technically-correct’ English batters to claim 4 wickets.

 

Experts who claimed he bowled too quick to get sufficient spin gasped as he spun a web around Lawry and Simpson the following winter at Mumbai again, throttling the Australians to submission. His analysis in the two innings read: 26-10-50-4 and 30-11-73-4.

 

But the cynics were still not convinced. They said that against the fleet-footed West Indies Chandra would meet his match. Well, his first encounter with West Indies had men like Hunte, Kanhai, Sobers and Lloyd in their ranks. At Brabourne Stadium once again – his favourite haunt – he was a man inspired with figures of 61.5-17-157-7 and 31-7-78-4.

 

Now how do you describe a man who did everything that should not have been done according to the coaching manuals and yet emerge an international champion in his own right?

 

Yes, Chandra had too long a run-up for a spinner. Yes, Chandra did run in too quickly for a spinner. Yes, his run-up and action were ungainly and awkward. But then he was no believer of conventional theories or orthodox methods. I suspect that he purposely did everything the other way round just to tease the rigid, puerile establishment.

 

He was a free bird; not a caged pet. He acted spontaneously;

An eagle soaring into the skies. Actually I had grave doubts whether the genius himself knew what he would do with the ball in hand. Probably therein lay his greatest deception: since he himself was not certain which way the ball would turn, how could the hapless batter know? Of course, this was only an academic guess. The truth quite the opposite, surely.

 

Years ago at Chennai, 1973 perhaps, with some of my East Zone colleagues I went behind the South Zone net to try to decipher his spin from his action. Gopal Bose who had got runs against Chandra in an earlier encounter, whispered, "Raju, play him as an off-spinner. If the ball turns from the leg, even Sir Don would be beaten! "A remarkable tribute to one of the true legends of the game.

 

But, then another question arises: was he actually a spinner? At his pace, hardly a slow spinner in the conventional sense. He spun: Oh! Sure he certainly did, but at medium pace.

 

While playing for Bangalore University on the matting wickets of those days, he was nearly unplayable. The former Bengal and East Zone opener, Dev Mukherji –my elder brother – who had a successful duel against Chandra in a varsity match on matting, rationalized "The best way to play Chandra was to play him as a medium pacer who brought the ball in. In that way at least you were prepared for the pace and, more importantly, the added bounce that he generated."

 

Yes, that's it. The bounce that he could get out of his deliveries was astounding. No spinner could generate the bounce that he could extract with his whiplash action. Some of his deliveries would actually climb chest high. Many international batters still have nightmares about their dismissals. They had no clue then. They still have not been able to fathom how they succumbed.

 

But the arm-chair critics were still far from convinced. They were on the look-out for Chandra's weakness. They said that all his successes were achieved on Indian soil and so he would be exposed abroad. On the softer English wickets he would get no bounce, on the hard Australian wickets he would spin less and on the West Indian wickets their batsmen would not respect him as much as they did on Indian wickets.

 

On his first visit to England under Tiger Pataudi, Chandra took 16 wickets at 27.18 in only 3 Tests. Then in 1971 under Ajit Wadekar he took 13 in 3 Tests including 8 wickets at the Oval where India recorded her first Test and series victory on English soil.

 

At Oval in the final Test after England had taken a convincing lead of 71 in the first innings, Chandra in a magic spell 18.1-3-33-6 sent Edrich, D'Oliveira, Fletcher and company packing for just 101. No such blitz had England encountered since the days of Hitler's aerial attacks. This defeat ended England's record run        of 26 official Tests without a defeat.

 

His first tour of Australia in 1967-68 ended in a mishap as he had to return home because of injury. But on his second trip he made amends. He gave India under Bishan Singh Bedi two victories with 12 and 8 wickets at Melbourne and Sydney respectively.

 

To West Indies he went just once. But that enough for him to fetch India a historic win at Trinidad, where his figures were: 32.2-8-120-6 and 27-5-88-2. He tormented the mighty West Indies men like Richards, Kalicharan, Lloyd, Fredricks and Rowe with 21 wickets in the 4 Test series.

 

He served India like a real champion. Between 1963 and 1979 he played 58 Tests claiming 242 wickets at 29.74. Victim-wise his most successful series was against England in 1972-73 when he had 35 scalps for just 18.91. No opposition, no condition, no reputation overawed him.

 

 He had no fancy for any particular captain. He was as successful under Pataudi as he was under Ajit Wadekar and Bishen Singh Bedi. He had excellent close-in fielding support from Eknath Solkar, Abid Ali, Ajit Wadekar and Srinivas Venkataraghavan. But then even without them he was just as penetrative. No other Indian cricketer has given us as many Test victories as he has. No less than 14 in his 58 Tests.

 

Yes, you read right. Chandra was involved in 14 victories in his 58 appearances. No Indian, however great, has ever matched that statistical percentage. This was his great gift to Indian cricket lovers. Of course, Chandra being Chandra never cared for any figures.

 

Though his figures are extraordinary, there is always a fear that his real capability might be submerged by mere statistics. He was all magic. No opposition ever had any respite from him. His tentacles were always on their necks. None before or since has ever been a match-winner like him.

 

Very early in life an attack of polio severely affected his stronger arm, the right arm. Never was he able to use it for the powerful throw-ins from the deep. Not to be outdone by such a grave handicap, Chandra began to throw with his weaker left arm.

 

 Such was his determination that the weaker left arm developed adequate strength and control and he actually used it for the flat throws from the boundary. I wonder if any other cricketer has ever used his weaker arm for the long throws from the deep. He could use his right arm for the short distance throws and thus was quite an ambidextrous thrower.

 

These issues appear to be minor, but if one thinks deep one would realize that the extraordinary performer’s dedication and determination were exemplary. The wonderful persona was ever-smiling, ever-accessible and ever-relaxed.  Never before or since has the cricket world seen a man as unique as he was.

 

Never craved for power or publicity. Never bothered about acclaim or awards. Never stooped to gain. He was a champion in his own right. He bore no comparison to anybody past or present. He defied description. He was truly extraordinary. Unique were his style and manner. He perpetually stands on a pinnacle all on his own.

 

The polio-affected right arm he utilized to send down those highly-charged googlies, top spinners and leg breaks. How he managed to overcome a physical handicap as debilitating as his was and yet become world beater is one of the mysteries of international sports. Many believe that it was because of his withered arm that he was so very effective, but the truth remains that the brave man disregarded a distinct handicap through the sheer strength of spirit.

 

He was indeed fortunate that he had the most understanding of captains in the early part of his phenomenal career: Subramanian (Karnataka), Jaisimha (South Zone), Borde (Board President's XI) and Pataudi (India). They made no effort to change the natural, unorthodox style of the youngster and for that every Indian cricket lover should be highly indebted to them. Respected coach Hemu Adhikari was another person who always kept his faith in Chandra as a match-winner.

 

But even a man of Chandra's extraordinary talents and universal popularity had powerful detractors. The national selectors and their petty prejudices kept him on the sidelines time and again for no apparent reasons.

 

 Even Vijay Merchant, one of our greatest cricketers, just could not reconcile to the fact that Chandra was a world-class player with unique qualities of his own. Merchant, for all his marvellous qualities, had a distinct apathy for anything unorthodox. Accordingly Chandra faced the axe when the selection committee chairman Merchant announced the India team to tour West Indies under Wadekar in early1971.

 

Chandra defies description. The sheer unpredictability of the man was unimaginable. He not only detested batsmen, he also detested batting. He is credited with the maximum number of zeroes to his name!

 

Never showed any urge to concentrate on improving his batting. However, once, to silence the know-alls he added 50 with Bapu Nadkarni in the Calcutta Test of l963-64 in his debut season.

 

A fascinating aspect of Chandra was that whereas he should have been used as a shock bowler, he gladly volunteered to take the load of a stock bowler as well. And yet managed not to suffer from over exposure as had happened to Sonny Ramadhin of West Indies.

 

Every time Chandra turned his arm round there was a hush of expectation in the stands. Perpetually on the attack, once in 1974 he brought India a magnificent victory at Eden Gardens against Lloyd's team, from the brink of a certain defeat. Pataudi kept his faith in Chandra knowing very well that if anyone could win the match it would be Chandra. 

 

It is indeed surprising that for a man of such outstanding credentials, he was so very humble, so very modest. Even when he had top quality batters in abject surrender, he would not go into a wild war dance. He would merely hum one of his favourite Mukesh tunes!

 

Once I had the good fortune to share a writing desk with him at Eden Gardens. Sports editor Rajan Bala, Chandra and I were covering the Test for the evening edition of Deccan Herald. It was a very non-conventional journalistic experience. Full of stories, plenty of humour, less of actual reporting! An experience of a lifetime. Thanks to India’s all-time champion.

 

Rajan Bala jokingly asked him, “ Chandra, care to bowl in this match?” Chandra nodded assent. Rajanda continued, “Which end, Chandra?” Chandra smiled. “From this end, of course. So that after every delivery as I walked back, I would raise my head and get your guidance!” You should have heard Rajan Bala’s laughter.

 

He was a real champion of the old school. No unnecessary bravado; no false hang-ups. Modesty at its height. Never a false word against anyone. I doubt if he ever thought that he had done anything out of the ordinary.

 

The modesty of the man was beyond compare. Once in the mid 1970s when Ambar Roy was playing the innings of his life at Eden Gardens against Prasanna and Chandra on the crumbling 4^th day pitch chasing 490 odd, Chandra muttered, “Ambar, I am so lucky that I do not meet you in Test matches!” Can you imagine the modesty of the world’s leading match-winning spinner? I do not think the most unlucky cricketer Ambar Roy ever got any higher acclaim.

 

However his peers always joked about the singular moment when Chandra actually lost his cool. Once in New Zealand he was routinely being deprived of leg-before decisions. It appeared that the ‘home’ umpires could not read his googlies as did the batters! They went on negating his appeals.

 

 Then finally when he got the batter bowled middle-stump, bowler Chandra turned towards the umpire and let out a vociferous appeal. The umpire said, “Don’t appeal. He is bowled.” Chandra replied, “I know he is bowled but is he out!” That’s Chandra, bright and sharp but a total introvert. No wonder everybody loved him. They still do.

 

To him every word and action appeared to be a spontaneous expression of life in full flow. Chandrasekhar was a cricketing sage, in the most appropriate term of the word.

 

 He was like the sage Ramakrishna Paramhansa, who taught the world that there was no one single established theory to reach God and that every person should have the freedom of choice to reach his own goal: Joto moth, toto poth.

 

Likewise Chandra proved that the coaching manuals are only for reference. A real champion will find his own method, his own path, his own style, his own unique way.  

 

 

Rusi Framroz Surti

 

Rusi Surti was an amazing cricketer. Not because of his inherent talents, but because of the way he stood up to constant neglect. Many lesser cricketers have had more opportunities than he. And many cricketers of superior talents have faded away at far less disregard.

 

He must have gone through dungeons on being ignored time and again, but never once did he show any sign of compromise or procrastination to the petty powers which governed Indian cricket in his days.

 

The man was a natural athlete. The very sight of Surti’s jaunty walk revealed a character of courage and confidence. The kind of personality every captain would love to have in his line-up. But in Surti’s case, it seemed just the opposite was true. Never quite received the support that he most certainly deserved.

 

Attacking left-handed batsman, he would go on an all-out attack if the team needed that approach. He had the doggedness to drop the fastest of deliveries at his twinkling toes hour after hour if the occasion demanded it. If the captain needed a medium pacer, it was the left-arm of Surti that would volunteer. If the captain required a man to give the ball a tweak, again it was Surti who would be too willing to do the job.

 

Before the arrival of Tiger Pataudi, Rusi Surti was certainly India’s best out-fielder. His fielding ability matched anyone in international cricket, especially in the deep. He was India's answer to Sir Garfield Sobers as an all-rounder of multiple dimensions. No praise can be higher than this for an all-rounder.

 

Yet for all his gifted qualities, he never quite performed to his abilities. Or rather he never quite received the encouragement nor the environment to bloom. The cricket lovers of the 1960s would gape at his wonderful dexterity and at the same time wonder why the numerical advantage was not forthcoming, as expected from an outstanding talent.

 

He appeared distinctly unhappy in the Indian camp. The feline grace, the smart running, the clean one-handed pick-up, the unerring under-arm flick on top of the bails, the desire to attack whether batting or bowling had all the hallmarks of a typical Australian cricketer. He was as brusque as the best of Aussies. Could match them stroke for stroke, glare for glare, adjective for adjective. And he could add a few more Parsee slang for effect.

 

Little wonder that Rusi Framroz Surti would finally find himself at home in Australia. The season was 1967-68 when the Indian team under Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi set off to meet the might of the Aussies Down Under. At the time Indian cricket was in doldrums, having just tasted a bitter 0-3 pill in England. No Indian cricket enthusiast nurtured any optimistic dreams. So was the final series result Down Under: another crushing whitewash 0-4.

 

But one man stood head, shoulders and waist above the rest. He was not Pataudi, nor Prasanna, neither Jaisimha, although each of them had their moments of glory. The man was none other than the gutsy Rusi Surti. On the combined tour of Australia and New Zealand, he scored more runs than anybody else, 967 at 37.19 and for good measure captured 42 wickets. For a member of a team ravaged, this was remarkable consistency.

 

Rarely has a performer displayed such character as Surti did on this particular tour. In each and every Test with defeat staring prominently, one man simply refused to succumb to the onslaught. His scores were 70 and 53 at Adelaide, followed by 30 and 43 at Melbourne. At Brisbane he took the fight to the enemy camp with 52 and 64 and finally at Sydney, 29 and 26. As if this was not enough, he continued with his Sobers-like streak by claiming 15 wickets.

 

 It is indeed doubtful if ever any cricketer, Indian or otherwise, has ever displayed such consistent individual tenacity and courage for a team totally annihilated in the series. Probably the magnificent batsman George Headley, acclaimed as ‘Black Bradman’, is the only other person to have achieved something similar for West Indies in the 1920s and 1930s.

 

Unfortunately Surti's positive bearing of thought and action did not go down very well with the powers- that-be in Indian cricket. He played for Gujarat initially and later for Rajasthan. Never, not even once was he shown any consideration for his rare failures. Surti, who should have been India’s mainstay, invariably found himself cold shouldered at the slightest pretext.

 

Surti’s Test career began at 25 against Fazal Mahmood’s Pakistan in 1960-61 at Mumbai’s Brabourne Stadium. Similar to Garfield Sobers’ debut Surti’s too began as a left-arm bowler. Again like Sobers he was omitted in the following Test. Here the comparison could have ended, but it did not. Both were brought back as batsmen and both displayed enough class to have played Test cricket as genuine all-rounders.

 

Here the comparison ends and the contrast unfolds to reveal two diametrically opposite poles of attitude: the positive outlook of the West Indies cricket authorities and the mental block of the Indians.

 

Rusi Surti, the left-arm pacer, was brought back as the number 3 batsman in the next outing! Now Surti played a wonderful stroke-filled innings of 64 that brought forth some fresh air in a dungeon of a series of drawn encounters.

 

In the following series against Dexter’s MCC no position could be found for him! In a series where batters of every hue made merry, Surti was left to rue his luck.

 

 But when India was billed to face the blistering fury of Wes Hall on the lightning fast wickets of the Caribbean, Surti became an automatic choice! And sure enough the gutsy Parsee lad did not disappoint.

 

In the 1^st innings his 57 was the highest score. With the regular batsmen backpedalling in the batting-order, Surti found himself at number 3 in the next Test where he scored 35 and 26. Then 7 and 36 at Barbados. Failure at Trinidad, 0 and 2, was followed by defiant knocks of 41 and 42 at Kingston, where he also scalped Hunte, Sobers and Solomon for just 56 off 18 overs. In this series India was laid low 0-5 by sheer pace and power. Yet the perpetual reserve Rusi Surti’s fortitude was a revelation.

 

On returning to India again no place could be found for him against Mike Smith’s MCC. Amazing indeed for a person of proven class and courage was always omitted against weaker sides. When the going got difficult abroad, he was always an automatic choice! Otherwise on the friendly Indian pitches he usually did the 12^th man’s job.

 

Against Bobby Simpson’s side in India he was brought in for the 2^nd Test, where he took 2 wickets and had modest scores of 21 and 10. However, he contributed by taking two brilliant catches to ensure Australia’s collapse and to aid India record a fantastic victory. At Eden he proved his class once again claiming 3 for 38 and 1 for 37, but could not beyond 9 in India’s only innings.

 

Later that year against New Zealand he got just one opportunity, no more. He was unbeaten in both innings on 9 and 17, and also took 1 wicket. But when Gary Sobers’ strong West Indies outfit arrived, once again the call for Surti was loud and clear.

 

As usual he was in his elements. Took 2 wickets and although scored 16 and 31 at Calcutta and followed this with 3 for 68 as well as an unbeaten 50 at Chennai. Surely he had proved his all-round potential, but still never was he a certainty in the team. Forever he seemed to be ‘on trial’!

Being perpetually on the periphery of the first XI must have affected his morale and confidence. If only some saner elements had shown more faith in him, he would have emerged as one of the prominent all-rounders in international cricket of the 1960s.

 

On the following tour of England in 1967, he did play in the first 2 Tests, and achieved nothing of note. At the same time it must be readily admitted that nor did the others. India was drubbed 3-0 in the 3-match series and Surti’s performance was in no way inferior to the ‘regulars’ of the team.

 

Then came the series in Australia in 1967-68. On those fast, bouncy pitches not many Indians showed the gumption to fight as the team succumbed to a 0-4 defeat in the 4-Test series.

 

 However the warrior in Rusi Surti rose to the occasion. He chose this difficult series to prove to the world his actual worth as a player. No bouncer, no sledging could upset him. The Aussies, tough opponents as they are, are also the first to acknowledge the truly deserving rival. To a man they applauded his courage, his character and his capabilities.

 

And his fate too seemed to agree. Not only plaudits and platitudes came to him, but genuine respect in the form of offers to play Sheffield Shield cricket in Australia. Queensland realized his undoubted class and approached him. And Surti nodded assent.

 

Never before has an Indian Test cricketer been invited to play in the toughest of all first-class championship, the inter-State championship in Australia. Surti was a most deserving pioneer among cricketers of the sub-continent when he joined a very select band of eminent cricketers like Rohan Kanhai, Sir Gary Sobers, Barry Richards and Wesley Hall to play Sheffield Shield. Surti went over, bowled them over and stayed on for good. At last the tough man seemed to have found the tough, no-nonsense scenario that he needed to burst forth.

 

Back home the Indian cricket administrators far being elated at the eminence achieved by one of their players, actually did not take too kindly to the turn of events. They could not fathom as to the reason why Surti should be rubbing shoulders in the company of the best cricketers in the world.

 

 True to fashion the daggers were brought out. After just a couple of failures at home, the cricketing obituary of Rusi Surti stared at him. Dejected and frustrated the super all-rounder found no backers at home and immediately set off for Australia to settle down for good.

 

Ironically Rusi Surti’s best achievements as a Test cricketer became an object of jealousy, a target to shoot down. Indian cricket could never quite fathom the real worth of the man. Nor could we accept our short-sightedness when the tough Aussies revealed it to us.

 

Far from being elated at the revelation we decided to murder the deserving man’s career! Thus another victim was laid low by the quixotic logic that still persists in our mind-set. The gutsy Rusi Surti, who had taken on the world on the playing arena, had no answer to the Brutuses off it.

 

Rusi Surti (1936 – 2013) remains one of those forgotten heroes of Indian cricket.

 

      

Dilip Sardesai

 Seldom has the reputation of a cricketer depended upon just one Test series. Despite 30 Test matches around the world, Dilip Sardesai’s status as a Test batsman revolves around his record in one particular Test series.

 

 Most critics have hailed his outstanding achievements on the tour of West Indies in 1971, when India recorded her first- ever series victory over West Indies. But there are others who have been highly critical of his horrendous performance on Australian soil in 1968-69.

 

But the real Sardesai is neither the all-conquering hero of the Caribbean tour nor the abject failure Down Under. The real Dilip Sardesai is lurking somewhere in between the two distant poles.

The short, stocky batsman was an antithesis, if ever there was one. Born in Goa, the cradle of soccer in western India, Sardesai became a cricketer having been nurtured on the maidans of India’s cricketing capital, Mumbai .

 

Non-athletic and bulky of appearance, he was as successful as the supposedly physically-fitter men were. Whereas shorter men generally thrive on cuts and pulls, to stocky Sardesai those horizontal strokes were anathema.

 

Otherwise however his career took the conventional pattern that one would normally take in Indian cricket, at least till the 1980s. He moved over to Mumbai, the place to be among cricketers, and received all possible encouragement and opportunities that the masters of Mumbai had to offer.

 

The decades of 1950 and1960 were the halcyon days for Mumbai cricket. They were in complete control of the Indian cricket scene having decimated opponents decisively and deliberately. Men of the stature of Vijay Merchant, Polly Umrigar, Subhash Gupte and Vijay Manjrekar had laid the foundation of the imposing structure of Mumbai cricket, which reeked of solidity and strength.

 

In such a backyard Dilip Sardesai learnt the rudiments of the game. Strong in defence, he played the waiting-game to perfection. His prolific scores in domestic championships propelled him into the Test arena in 1961 when Ted Dexter’s England team landed on Indian soil for the first time in 10 years.

 

On the placid Green Park wicket at Kanpur, Sardesai made his debut. Heavy scoring by either side restricted his opportunity to just a single innings, in which he had the mortification to hit his own wicket. His contribution of 28 was not considered fair enough and he had to make room for Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi’s debut in the following Test at New Delhi.

 

Fortunately however he was selected for the tour of West Indies in February 1962. He played at Trinidad but the fury of Hall and Stayers unsettled him as it did to others. But Nari Contractor’s grievous injury offered him the chance to open on the lightning fast Kensington pitch at Barbados. Sardesai showed exemplary

fortitude with scores of 31 and 60, but a pair in the next Test relegated him to the sideline.

 

The following series against England in 1963-64 on Indian soil saw Sardesai in bloom. He played consistently enough, mainly at number 3, to aggregate 451 at 45. But the series would be best remembered for the high scores by either team on feather-bed pitches, where both teams were content to play 5 dull, drawn encounters.

 

Against Bob Simpson’s Australia in 1964-65 he had a very modest series. However it to his credit that in the pulsating finish at Mumbai, where India pulled off a sensational 2 wicket victory, Sardesai’s 56 in the 2nd innings was a contributory factor.

 

Close on its heels arrived John Reid’s Kiwis. Here Sardesai delighted with a double hundred at Mumbai and followed it up with a century at Kotla and assisted India to notch a series victory.

 

 Despite another poor series against West Indies and Wes Hall in India, Sardesai went to England in 1967 where John Snow proved to be the nemesis. He was indeed lucky to have been selected for the tour of Australia under Pataudi in 1967-68.

 

The tour of Australia proved to be a positive embarrassment to him, with scores of 1 and 11, 1 and 5 against the likes of Graham Mckenzie and Dave Renneberg. The measly average of 4.5 was certainly not the true index of a batter who had done well enough in the past. Sadly however Dilip Sardesai‘s problems in encountering genuine pace bowlers persisted till the end of his career.

 

Sardesai’s cricket career seemed to have come to its logical conclusion after the disastrous tour Down Under. He missed two home series and was brought back to combat Bill Lawry’s Aussies in 1969. Again his nemesis, Mckenzie, loomed over him and in the 2nd innings the unorthodox leggie Johny Gleeson had him in two minds. By now the writing was surely on the wall.

 

But fate intervened and decreed that Dilip Narayan Sardesai should have at least another call. India was scheduled to tour West Indies in early 1971. Vijay Merchant had just come in as the chairman of the national selection committee and Pataudi was replaced by Mumbai’s Ajit Wadekar. New names like Jayantilal, Gavaskar, Govindraj, Krishnamurthy and Jejeebhoy appeared. Seniors like Durrani, Jaisimha and Sardesai were also named. At this time, Indian cricket was in doldrums. Defeat followed defeat and no hope seemed to be in sight.

 

Sardesai’s selection must have puzzled many. Till then he had failed in every overseas tour and his recent Test form, too, did not appear all that encouraging. However the wisdom of chairman Vijay Merchant paid off in no uncertain manner as Sardesai emerged the principal architect of a major series victory.

 

In the 1st Test when all around him lay in shambles, the gritty middle-order batter seemed to be in excelsis. He scored 212 out of 387 in a stay of over 8 hours. Another century followed in the next Test as India romped home by 7 wickets. As if this was not enough, his gluttony continued with 45, 150 and 24, 75 and 21 in the last 3 Tests, totalling 642 runs at 80.25. It was champion stuff all along.

 

In England in 1971, although not as successful, nevertheless his scores of 54 and 40 in the final Test at the Oval helped India to win the Test as well as her first series on English soil. Sardesai played just another Test, this time against England at Kotla, before bidding good-bye to Test cricket.

 

Exactly where would Sardesai figure in the Indian cricket museum is not easy to judge. Apart from his magnificent and commanding tone of batsmanship in West Indies in 1971, he also assisted India to wins over England at the Oval and over Australia at Brabourne Stadium.

 

Yet he was indeed lucky to have played so often for India despite his embarrassing weakness on the field.  He was also lucky that batters of similar credentials like Vijay Bhonsle, Shyam Sundar Mitter among others never got a single opportunity at the international level.

 

Through sheer tenacity and good fortune Sardesai survived. His phenomenal performance in domestic cricket always acted as a cover for his failures in Tests. Till the very end, he baffled his supporters with his inexplicable weakness against top-quality, genuine pace.

 

He had the strokes to combat, especially against spin bowling. He had the temperament to stay at the crease for hours. He delighted in playing the long innings devoid of any memorable individual characteristic.I personally always felt that this batsman never allowed himself the luxury of gaiety while batting. He appeared too cramped at times, too defensive, too intent. If only he had put more bat to ball, more often and more vigorously, we may have had a different Dilip Sardesai among us.

 

 But in the final analysis, one has to admit that he did help India to win Tests abroad. The bowling may not have been of the very best quality but still he did achieve what we all wanted our batters to do. Sardesai could turn back and ask, “Well, I know I got some very mediocre bowling in West Indies in 1971. But then what about the other batters, except Gavaskar? Why couldn't they get runs against the supposedly weak attack?” To find an answer to that query would be almost impossible.

 

A mark of interrogation seemed to haunt his mind at every turn. The stocky man looked too anxious; too stressed; too grim. He always seemed to be carrying a burden.  Dilip Sardesai gave every indication of a man not in harmony with himself

      

At 52, National Defence Fund match at Eden Gardens in 1963. Being introduced to Governor of West Bengal Padmaja Naidu, author's maternal aunt. Others are Hazare, Umrigar, Ramchand, Roy Gilchrist and Charlie Stayers.

LALA AMARNATH: exceptional talent; gone waste 

 

Over-zealous compilers of records named him Nanik (father’s name, Nanak, mis-spelt) Bharadwaj (family lineage, ‘gotra’) Amarnath. Thankfully, no one else ever did. Universally popular as Lala he always was, and that’s how he shall be remembered in future. A maverick who perpetually searched for adventures. A buccaneer in spirit, in language, in conduct. How did he drift into a meandering sport like cricket is a matter of serious conjecture.

 

Men of outstanding merit invariably raise our expectations. And the expectations keep rising. No matter how much these men achieve, we tend to feel that they should do more. Hence with expectations constantly on the rise, these outstanding individuals always seem to carry a very heavy cross on their shoulders.

 

More often than not the high and constantly rising expectations are left unfulfilled and the fans feel let down. High expectations lead to grave disappointments. Lala Amarnath belonged to this category.

 

The highly talented Amarnath was a cricketer who kept giving his innumerable fans sleepless nights. He would torment them; frustrate them, lead them to despair. Not because he was a failure. But because, no matter whatever he did achieve, his admirers invariably wanted more. The disappointment was more because the cricket followers were well aware that he had the potential to achieve greater heights.

 

What cricketing qualities did he not have? A rapier of a bat; a vicious in-dipper in tandem with a potent leg-cutter; a safe pair of hands; wings on light feet; a wily cricket brain. Added to this, a daredevil approach. If Amarnath had not become a cricketer he would most certainly have become an explorer in search of lost civilizations in the deep interiors of the Amazon. Or, perhaps an adventurer in the Antarctic in quest of the unknown.

 

But his whole life was full of contradictions. The young wicket-keeper - while a student at Lahore, Aligarh and Amritsar - was destined to come into serious cricket to play the all-rounders role forsaking the big gloves forever. Very few players have been as versatile as Lalaji was.

 

No respecter of persons or things, he confounded his own princely patrons as much as he confounded his own team mates by his words and actions. Even international opponents did not quite know how to fathom or handle him.

 

 If he was the desperado of a batsman in one series; in the next he would be seen to be a penetrative medium pacer. If he was highly individualistic on one tour; by the next he appeared to be a brilliant leader of men. He scored tons of runs in the minor games against the best of opposition, yet in the Test Matches against similar bowling he failed to score highly. What an enigma he must have been to all, including himself.

 

For all his magnificent attributes Lala Amarnath would always be regarded as a cricketer who achieved next to nothing of what he was genuinely worth. Was his technique not sound enough? Or, more precisely his temperament?

 

But how can that be when as a 20 year-old he had the full measure of men like Clark, Nicholls and the great Headley Verity not once but twice. First a century for Southern Punjab and then another hundred within weeks on his Test debut at the Bombay Gymkhana ground in the winter of 1933-34. Daredevil debutant Lala Amarnath led an assault of 118 runs, reaching his century in just above two hours, even as the tough opposing skipper Douglas Jardine was made to look helpless. His scintillating hundred was India’s first century in official Tests.

 

In 1936 on tour to England he was on a song. In only 19 innings he had 591 runs and took no less than 32 wickets. The best figures among all his mates till then. Then came the ‘fateful’ match against the weak Minor Counties team. Padded-up he was made to wait as batsman after batsman went in to bat and returned to the pavilion.

 

 By the time he went to bat there was little time left and he came back with an unbeaten 5 against his name. In anger and frustration he threw his bat down in the confines of the dressing room and gave a mouthful to skipper Vizzy and team official Hadi, who had probably come to pacify him.

 

The manager of the 1936 team was an Englishman, Brittain-Jones, who also happened to be the ADC to the Viceroy, Lord Willingdon.

Brittain-Jones was no lover of Indians and he took it upon himself to teach Lala and all the Indians that the British colonial masters would accept no indiscipline.

 

In effect he also desired to prove to the world at large that the Indians were always at each other's throat and so were not capable of ruling themselves. Remember, this was the time when the Indian nationalists were demanding self-rule and the British Viceroy had just come down very heavily on them.

 

Brittain-Jones prevailed upon skipper Vizzy to send back Lala Amarnath to India by the next ship! The best of efforts by the seniors of the team could not alter the awful decision. This was unprecedented at the time. The cricketing world was dumbfounded. Never before had such strong-arm tactics been used to punish a cricketer for misconduct. Years later, however, Roy Gilchrist of West Indies and Geoff Boycott of England also met with similar fate while touring India in 1958 and 1982 respectively.

 

However it is to Lala Amarnath's credit that the Beaumont Committee set up to inquire the misdemeanour found that the step taken was much too harsh for the alleged ‘crime’ and so young Amarnath was exonerated. It was said that the maharaja of Patiala Yadavendra Singh, BCCI official Pankaj Gupta and journalist Berry Sarbadhikari used their persuasive powers to get him reinstated. Thankfully so. He returned to international cricket in style and splendor.

 

In 1946 Amarnath went to England under Iftikar Ali Khan Pataudi and this time, true to his enigmatic self, he was an outstanding bowling success. His innocuous-looking deliveries had world-beaters like Hutton, Compton and company wending their way back to the gloom of the pavilion. But very surprisingly his batting fell away despite occasional success in the county games.

 

On the tour of Australia in 1947-48, he took over the mantle of captaincy when the captain-elect, Vijay Merchant, dropped out. Although leading a weakened side without the trio of Vijay Merchant, Mushtaq Ali and Rusi Modi, the new skipper Amarnath succeeded in uniting the team and in earning the respect of the men under him. He gave every impression that he was a born leader of men.

 

At the personal level, outside of Tests he was just magnificent with the bat. Blazed his way to centuries against Queensland, Tasmania and South Australia; made 228 not out against Victoria, an innings which earned plaudits even from the hardened, former Aussie players. But in Tests he was an abject failure as a batter. What a disappointment he was to his fans. Did his over-confidence get the better of him? Why could he not achieve what he was capable of?

 

But as a bowler he was extremely successful with 13 wickets, the highest among his team-mates. At Melbourne he accounted for 7 wickets in the match. How would you assess this man? One day he was on top as a batter and the next day his batting fell apart while his bowling-arm worked wonders. So inconsistent was he that his enormous all-round skills never quite flowered to the degree those should have.

 

A genuine leader of men he proved to be on the Australia tour. The most pragmatic Sir Donald Bradman was full of praise at the way Amarnath led his team of meagre resources as well as for the way he bowled his penetrative medium pacers. He knew his team's limitations. But rather than throw in the towel, he matched opposing skipper Bradman move for move.

 

 Lalaji would go down fighting rather than surrender. It is true that the crucial checkmate eluded him, but then at the time no cricket team in the world stood a chance against Bradman's all-conquering Australians. Lala Amarnath led India capably against West Indies just after the War and then won the inaugural series for India against Pakistan.

 

However, boisterousness continued to get the better of him. Candid to the point of being contemptuous, impetuous to the point of being indiscreet, Lala Amarnath was apparently an Aussie in Indian garb. He played tough; spoke tough, acted tough. Bradman praised him as did Hammond for his undoubted all-round skills. Even the tactless Douglas Jardine had very regard for the man.

 

But Indian officials found his aggressive nature intolerable. Particularly Anthony D'Mello, the highly pro-active administrator of Indian cricket. It was indeed a sad spectacle to find the BCCI president and the India captain were seemingly always at loggerheads.

 

The only official with whom Amarnath felt at ease was none other than Pankaj Gupta, the mercurial manager of India cricket and hockey teams between 1930s and early 1950s. Gupta, big of heart and a lover of life, knew how to handle sportspeople. He gave skipper Amarnath full authority to flower.

 

 On that Australia tour the Indians under Lala Amarnath and Pankaj Gupta were a fighting and happy unit, something quite unusual in Indian sides; unfortunately so even today. Later, too, Lala led India with elan and was a great source of inspiration to youngsters who came under his stewardship.

 

His tenure as a national selector lasted 7 years beginning from 1953, with 5 seasons as chairman. As his was the dominant voice in the selection committee meetings all the criticisms at the committee were directed at him.

 

The disastrous performance and approach against West Indies in 1958-59 and the following tour of England caused confusion in the minds of serious cricket followers: just 2 pace bowlers for a full 4-month England tour! Four captains for five Tests in one series! Omission of a successful captain and batsman from the following tour! Selection of a tour captain without adequate credentials!

 

Most unfortunately Lala Amarnath was often too dictatorial in his dealings as a national selector. Some of his choices raised eyebrows; others appeared to be highly inconsistent. At times he appeared irrational and over-bearing. Despite doing well, no player was certain of his place in the following matches!

 

This attitude did not quite earn him support from any quarter, not even from people who were supposedly close to him. Peer-players and board officials were not always complimentary in their assessment of him. He always seemed to give the impression that he was in a hurry and he must have the ‘last word’. Many people thought that he had no patience for discussions or for careful analysis.

 

However we should not forget that it was none other than Lala Amarnath’s inspired choice of Jasu Patel at Kanpur in 1959 that had Richie Benaud’s Aussies in doldrums. Lalaji pitchforked the dare-devil Budhi Kunderan into the Test XI even before he had played a single first-class match. In a masterstroke, he chose Hemu Adhikari to lead India at Delhi against Alexander’s marauding army. Adhikari was an immediate success as batsman and captain.  But in a strange move the same committee omitted him from the tour of England that followed!

 

Lala Amarnath’s impatience probably was reflected in his over-all personal statistics in black and white. Why did his skills not get more runs, more wickets when players of far less ability were making merry? What did he not have: strength, stamina, skill? Moreover, he had grey matter where it mattered most. But he conspired to keep everyone grey in his under-achievement. Was he too vocal, too vitriolic?  

 

His impetuosity got the better of him even off-the-field. He had the tendency to get his way about, whatever be the means. He left behind a trail that was not always above reproach. Even his ‘partners-in-dealings’ accused him of high-handedness. All these issues left him with very few admirers among his peer-players, administrators and media personnel. I dare say that his highly volatile approach towards others did affect the cricket careers of his talented sons.

 

He was a law unto himself. In the inaugural Irani Trophy match in 1961, Amarnath had the 12^th man batting in the 2^nd innings (without applying the replacement law)! True or not, serious charges of gamesmanship and worse were directed at him. But why did he give people the scope to criticize him? He was too good a player to resort to any kind of underhand tactics. Unnecessarily he got involved with issues he could have easily stayed away from.

 

All his sterling qualities as a cricketer were enshrouded by one controversy after another. The magnificent all-rounder and the cerebral captain did not do justice to his own self. He shattered his own image by his autocratic approach on and off the field.

 

 If only he had taken the lessons of restraint and composure of his ancestral lineage, the great sage Rishi Bharadwaj, he would have been rated among the top-quality all-rounders in world cricket.    

 

But Lalaji could not overcome his impetuosity. As an amateur sports psychologist, I feel that his was most certainly a case of ‘persecution complex’. He thought everybody was against him; everybody was jealous of him; everybody was suspicious of him.

 

I personally feel that the most unfair banishment from England in 1936 left a permanent scar in the young impressionable man’s psyche. Here was a sensitive soul in his early 20s.  To be sent back from a tour, where he was representing his nation, must have shattered him. The stigma perhaps left him a disillusioned man.

 

But one issue is certain: the maverick in Lala Amarnath never could fathom that his greatest enemy was he himself. He remained a prisoner in a restricted orbit of his own making. A magnificent talent was laid low because he was unable to evaluate himself.

 

The ultimate realization in Vedanta “Know Thyself ” – later popularized by philosophers Socrates and Confucius –  ring true in Lalaji’s case. He never could really judge himself. His personal loss was no more than India’s national loss as well.

s as well.