Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi

 

The Indian cricketers just would not gel as a combined unit. Team spirit was at a discount. Parochialism and prejudice ruled the roost and the country’s cricketing reputation lay in tatters.

 

In the winter of 1958-59 Gerry Alexander's West Indies literally floored us and in the following summer in England Peter May's team massacred us with utmost contempt. A drab, drawn series against Pakistan at home exposed us as the 'dull dogs' of international cricket. Not only were we incapable of winning a single Test Match; worse still, the mental attitude of the players seemed to border on negative thoughts. Self interest ahead of team's cause was the order of the day.

 

However, the winter of 1961-62 brought about a refreshing transformation. All on a sudden the Indian cricketers seemed to have acquired springs on their feet. Even their appearance showed a distinct change. Those stodgy, grim faces gave way to relaxed smiles. Ill-fitting clothes made way for sartorial elegance. At last, the Indian cricketers looked confident enough to rub shoulders with the very best. Gone were the days when our players appeared distinctly uncomfortable and suffered from inferiority complex.

 

But how did such a radical change take place? Primarily because of the advent of one man, who was destined to lead India into an era of freedom from submissive self-consciousness.

 

Bhopal, Winchester and finally Oxford gave us the 'springing tiger' – to borrow a term from Netaji Subhash Bose’s biography – in the form of Mansur Ali Khan of Pataudi. He, at the time still the titular Nawab of Pataudi, brought about a discernible difference to the attitude and appearance in the Indian dressing room. Men like Jaisimha, Prasanna, Bedi, Chandrasekhar, Kunderan and Hanumant among others found their voice and gave full vent to their personalities.

 

With Polly Umrigar playing the paternal role to perfection and Borde lending his solidity and the genius in Durani his fluidity, the Indians finally began to display handsome cricket. They brought about Dexter's downfall at Calcutta and Chennai (then Madras) enabling India to record her first series victory over England. At Calcutta he contributed 64 and 32; and at Chennai 103 and 10 to help India to two glorious victories at the age of just 21.

 

Mansur Ali Khan was, of course, not the captain of India at the time. That was only his debut series in international cricket. But such was the influence of his mere presence that men far more experienced than he began to develop confidence in their own ability by watching him walk, talk and dress. He changed the scenario of Indian cricket for good.

 

On his debut in the 3^rd Test at Delhi the young nawab marveled at the batsmanship of centurion Vijay Manjrekar and became his great admirer. He formed a life-long friendship with the other centurion Jaisimha. After the initial stutter (13) at Delhi on debut, he displayed his superlative style at Eden with 64 and 32 and helped India to its victorious march that culminated at Chennai with 103 and 10.

 

 Pataudi did not know thralldom; did not know submission. He had played against the best in their own backyard at their own terms and proved himself to be of the top-most bracket. Consequently his manner and mien were of self-assurance and fortunately for Indian cricket he had the aura to permeate that self-assurance into others.

 

The tour to West Indies in 1962 was an unmitigated disaster throughout. After skipper Nariman Contractor's most unfortunate head injury in the Barbados match following the 2nd Test, Pataudi, the fledgling vice-captain was thrown into the deep sea. With the selfless Polly Umrigar's hand on his shoulder, he somehow survived the ordeal of Frank Worrell's marauding men and returned to India far more matured than his 22 years of life ought to have been.

 

Now he was on the saddle. Almost overnight he was thrust onto it by circumstances beyond control. Though he tried to maintain a cool, almost casual exterior, it was apparent that the slight hump had become a little more pronounced. The responsibility and the cares of leading a team of diverse tastes, habits, languages, likes and dislikes can either make a man a hero or throw him deep into a chasm.

 

None yet, not even C.K.Nayudu or Lala Amarnath had handled the Indian team with any sense of unity, although it must be readily admitted that Polly Umrigar was the one who came closest to being a real leader of this diverse group. Now it was the young Pataudi’s turn.

 

Sheer perception helped him to fathom the problems of captaining an Indian team. He brought about a delightful change. He did not demand respect, he sought to earn it. Through personal example on and off the field. Most importantly he kept himself far, far above petty considerations like regionalism and class bias. A leaf from the approach introduced by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose and his INA braves.

 

By Indian sports standards this was a distinctly novel idea; a giant leap forward indeed. Unfortunately we have gone many steps back ever since he left the scene. Earlier very few of the Indian captains had been selected on merit. Most were appointed because of their proximity to the powers-that-be.

 

They led by rote, using all the prejudices prevalent to keep the establishment happy. That was surely no leadership. Just a vehicle to carry out the orders of men in power, who pulled the strings from the background to satisfy their own petty considerations.

 

Pataudi' s presence and personality changed all that nonsense. He had an aura that kept the flatterers at bay. He had no time for regional politics or for class bias. He wanted to enjoy playing cricket and knew well enough that to enjoy one had to try one's utmost with the best available talent. He regarded the players for what they were intrinsically worth themselves. Inevitably enough, the Indians developed self-respect and were making headlines across the globe, playing positive cricket and most important of' all, winning matches. No one dared to call the Indians 'dull dogs' any more.

 

Pataudi was a revelation. In appearance and in ability he exuded confidence. His distinctive style sent a whole generation into trying to emulate him. The man was an inspiration to his fellow men; a much-admired person to his opponents. Cool, composed, confident, the cricketer in him had a cavalier panache about him. He brought back the adventurous days of CK Nayudu and Mushtaq Ali as he lifted the ball over the heads of fielders with utmost nonchalance. It was he who revolutionized fielding among our players by his own lofty deeds.

 

Conditions and reputations never ruffled him. In his only series in England in 1967 he was superb at Headingley with scores of 64 and 148. So also later that year on the tour of Australia where despite an injured limb, he batted brilliantly to score 75 and 85 at Melbourne. His batting was based on sound technical principles but he never allowed technique to dictate to him.

 

 He would innovate; he would evolve on his own to overcome the problem of impaired vision in one eye, the result of a car crash in England before he had made his Test debut. To have done wonders at the international with proper vision in just one eye is nothing short of a miracle. But he achieved the ‘impossible’ in style and splendor.

 

His only tour to West Indies was unsuccessful in terms of runs. But the baptism by fire made him mentally tough and he was quick to grasp that international cricket was a totally different ball game to the English county scene, of which he was a part with Oxford first and then with Sussex.

 

 Moreover Tiger relished challenges. The tougher those were, the more the phlegmatic man dared to combat it. On Indian wickets where the pitches were favourable to batsmen, Tiger was not always at his best. He gave the impression that he could not motivate himself in matches which descended to a dreary end. Invariably he appeared listless, withdrawn.

 

 

Tiger Pataudi led India 40 times out of 46 Tests that he played. He won victories over Simpson’s Australia and Clive Lloyd’s West Indies, two very formidable world-beating oppositions. In fact India’s first-ever Test and series victory abroad was also under his able leadership. In 1968-69 his team defeated New Zealand 3 to 1 to record India’s first ever Test and series victory abroad.

 

Anyone can be named a captain by the powers-that-be. But to be a genuine leader one needs to be a self-sacrificing, innovative, inspiring individual. Very few Indian captains have been real leaders of men. Pataudi without any semblance of doubt was one exceptional leader. He was not merely a captain selected by the selectors, he was a leader of men by the force of his personality, integrity, selfless nature, broad-mindedness and cricketing skills. He was indeed a born leader on and off the field.

 

Pataudi's Test aggregate of 2793 runs at 34.91 includes 6 centuries, the highest being 203 not out against England in 1963-64. On his only tour of England he scored 269 runs at 44.83 and on his only tour of Australia despite much physical hardships he was a man inspired with 339 runs at 56.50. He led India in 40 of the 46 Tests that he played registering Test victories over Australia, West Indies and New Zealand.

 

His brilliance as a leader of men came to the forefront time and again. But none more so than at Calcutta in 1974 against Clive Lloyd's men. At the time he was well past his prime as a batter and was brought back – with skipper Wadekar throwing in the towel – to withstand the might of Greenidge and Richards, Kallicharan and Lloyd, Roberts and Boyce. The first two Tests were lost and in the 3rd Test at Eden Gardens the stage was set for West Indies to deliver the final punch.

 

 But Tiger and his brave Indian team caught the vaunted West Indies men by their necks. Gundappa Vishwanath played the stellar role with a supremely authoritative century and Pataudi’s 37 – including 4 successive boundaries off Vanburn Holder – after being laid low by a riser was an inspiration to his mates.

 

On the final morning when Lloyd and Kallicharan were going great guns to bring off the deciding victory of the series, Tiger did not relinquish his faith on Chandrasekher. He knew if anybody had the capability to run through, he would be the unorthodox spinner. Initially Chandra came in for some punishment and the Eden crowd roared its disapproval of Tiger's insistence on Chandra. It needed much courage to withstand that kind of public wrath.

 

But Tiger knew his mind and his gamble paid off as Chandra went through the defence of Lloyd and Kallicharan. Then he brought on Bishan Bedi and polished off the tail in next to no time, and left the field in splendid reserve. No hugging, no high-fives, no vulgar gestures. Not even a wry smile but just a pat on the back for Bedi and Chandra.

 

Bedi and Chandra knew what that pat meant. So did the connoisseur. The crowd was on its feet in joy. They wanted the Tiger and his heroes to run a victory lap. But the tiger in him would not subscribe to such common dictates. He came out of the pavilion, stood at the gate and waved once and vanished forever.

 

Next Test, too, the Tiger magic worked. This was Tiger Pataudi at his best. A man of perception, who understood and nurtured brilliance. It was under him that most of India's prominent cricketers of the 1960s and 1970s came into limelight: Vishwanath, Bedi, Chandra, Prasanna, Venkataraghavan, to name a few.

 

Pataudi had no need for cricket managers in his time. Actually he would have considered such an appointment an affront to his mental faculties. He would most certainly have said, "If the cricket captain cannot make cricketing judgements and cannot take cricketing decisions, why is he there in the first place?"  So would have Polly Umrigar, Bishan Bedi and Sunil Gavaskar.

 

But Tiger Pataudi for all his worth and his contribution could have been a little more committed to Indian cricket. If he had only put his foot down a little more firmly at times, many of the evils of Indian cricket would have died there and then. If only he had twitched his nose at a  few awkward incidents, future captains like Bedi, Gavaskar and company would have been spared the duty of cleaning the Augean Stables of Indian cricket.

 

First met him at Hyderabad in 1975 during the Moin-ud-dowla Trophy. Some of us young players were on the 2^nd floor balcony of Lal Bahadur Shastri Stadium in the company of Durani, Jaisimha and other leading Indian cricketers. As Pataudi walked in, all the youngsters got up to offer their seats. He gave a gentle wave, walked straight to a vacant chair and sat on it. I was all ears as the seniors joked and exchanged views. Pataudi was generally very reticent with short, monosyllabic replies.

 

Everything was going fine till I opened my mouth and made a faux pas. I suddenly asked him what subjects he had studied at Oxford. He looked through me and almost whispered, “Oriental Languages.” Before I could fathom the meaning of the subject, he abruptly left his seat and went away. I was astonished.

 

Later that evening I told my room-mate Gopal Bose about the answer. Gopal, extremely intelligent and witty, replied, “Can you not be normal, Raju? Why ask him about academics? Could you not think of a single cricket-related query? You asked, he answered, now it’s your turn to find the meaning. Don’t get me involved in any of your academic mess!” The matter rested there since then.

My next meeting was at the Ananda Bazar Patrika office in Calcutta. At the time in the early 1980s he was the editor of the Calcutta-based sports magazine Sportsworld. I was a regular contributor but had never met him because he was stationed at Delhi and hardly ventured to the Calcutta ABP office. Prominent sports journalists Arijit Sen and later the very erudite Ajay Kumar acted on behalf of the celebrity-editor.

I had full freedom to write whatever I felt like. Generally wrote ‘thought-provoking’ articles like: leg-byes should be banned; cricketers some day in future would wear shorts as the tennis players had done; one short-run is actually 2 short-runs; all bats like balls should be of similar size and shape; etc. It seemed my articles went down well as further requests to continue writing kept coming to me. Honestly, I was more than happy to have the liberty to raise unusual topics. How many editors would allow such liberty? Thankfully, Tiger and his editorial-mates had an open mind. This was real leadership.

 

I entered the department one day to submit an article of mine. There inside the office facing the editor’s chair was the editor himself, Tiger Pataudi! Arijit introduced me. Tiger looked at me and softly uttered, “Fertile imagination.” I could barely smile, nod and leave for my office.

 

Next day Arijit called to say, “He paid you a rare compliment. After you left, he told me to tell you to ‘keep scribbling’.” I kept stabbing Tiger Pataudi’s Sportsworld with regular articles till it could take no more and died a natural death!

 

Tiger Pataudi was a natural leader of men; a man of sophistication and culture; a cricketer par excellence. He changed the face of Indian cricket by his prowess and personality.