Unfortunate trio

Because of selectorial short-sightedness highly deserving batters of the 1960s like Shyam Sundar Mitra, Sudhakar Adhikari and Vijay Bhonsle did not get a single opportunity at the Test level. Similar fate awaited quality cricketers like pacemen Abdul Ismail, Anup Ghatak and Samar Chakravarty; spinners Padmakar Shivalkar and Rajinder Goel and the wicket keeper/batter PK Beliappa. While some cricketers were persevered with, many genuine talents suffered in silence in the 1960s and 1970s.

The names of Abdul Ismail and Padmakar Shivalkar are among the players who have not received the respect that they deserved. While Bombay was winning one Ranji Trophy championship title after another in the 1960s and 1970s, two men stood out among the bowlers, Padmakar Shivalkar and Abdul Ismail.

They were the chief architects of many a victory. They did their job to the best of their ability. They were both very hard working, very sincere, very positive. Match after match, some even from hopeless situations, these two men extricated Bombay from the jaws of defeat.

Ismail would make the early breakthrough and then Shivalkar would run through the opposition. They were just quiet executioners who went about their responsibilities without a word or gesture. For them the duty of winning matches for Bombay was their prime objective and they achieved that to perfection day in, day out for years.

Every match-winning Bombay team photograph would have these two players standing in some obscure corner totally oblivious of the great job they had done. This happened year after year. Yes, most surely Bombay had the batsmen to get big scores on the board, but then to win a match you have get the opposition all out at least once, if not twice. Hence the contributions of these two superlative bowlers can never be ignored.

Unfortunately none of them was ever called to represent the India team in official Test matches. They remained ignored and neglected forever.

However Paddy got to play two unofficial tests in early 1974 on India’s tour of Sri Lanka. On his debut at Colombo he bowled 61 overs and captured 4 wickets for 115, which included the fabulous Anura Tennekoon and Sidath Wettimuny. In the following test match he blocked one end and enabled Madanlal and Pandurang Salgaokar to run through the Sri Lankan innings for a victory. Never again was he heard of at the international level.

Paddy was fortunate to have been compared with Bishan Bedi time and again by various people. At least genuine cricket followers understood that Shivalkar and Goel were outstanding bowlers who were superseded by a legend.

 

 

 

But paceman Abdul Ismail never got any form of recognition or mention. It appeared that people took him for granted. Little did people realize that he bowled his heart out for Bombay on lifeless Indian pitches and helped Bombay during the period between mid 1960 and mid 1970, when the Ranji Trophy title was Bombay’s monopoly. When pace bowlers with hardly any comparable statistics were being ‘tried’ at the unofficial and official Tests the tall, well-built, bespectacled medium pacer from Mumbai was completely forgotten.

I shall never forget how Ashok Mankad and he tricked me in going for a drive off the last ball of the day only to lose my wicket. I was fully set with 30 odd when Abdul floated a slow out-swing to tempt me into a cover-drive keeping the cover region vacant. The resultant snick resulted in an impish smile from my dear friend. Ashok was the likely planner but Abdul executed the plan to perfection.

In the early 1980s we invited Abdul to play an invitation tournament at Jamadoba in Dhanbad to represent Samar Pal’s XI. This was basically a side full of potential youngsters. Abdul and I, the two seniors, shared a room. Believe it or not, the inexperienced youngsters actually went on to defeat first the Tata XI and then the SBI team, both full of Ranji Trophy cricketers.

He was an extraordinary influence on the young hopefuls. He mixed with them very informally. Off the field, he guided the bowlers with the finer points but generally kept to himself. He assured me, “Raju, whenever you need me to bowl, please do not hesitate to give me the ball. I enjoy bowling.” On that ‘dead track’ at Jamadoba not many pace bowlers would have the confidence to say so.

 On the field he proved that he also had the ability. It was a fantastic feeling to have such a man beside me. He got 5 wickets each in both the matches and helped the under-rated youngsters to lift the coveted trophy. That’s Abdul Ismail. A captain’s bowler. An extraordinary team man.

***

Even in death, Rajinder Goel remained behind the screen. His untimely departure was not adequately ‘covered’ in the media. In life too he was destined to remain in the background.

His sole opportunity at the international level came in an unofficial test against Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) at Ahmedabed in 1966. The Indian batting collapsed giving the Lankans an easy victory but Goel was his consistent self with 4 wickets in just 13 overs. Never again was he asked to serve his country!

Normally it is believed that Bedi’s presence kept him and Padmakar Shivalkar out of the Indian team. But that is not the complete picture. For the discerning cricket follower knows that even when Bedi was dropped on ‘disciplinary’ grounds, Goel was shelved in favour of a leg-spinning all-rounder and another left-arm orthodox spinner.

Later in 1979 when Bedi was finally omitted, Goel was still at the top of his bowling form. But he was overlooked as the much younger Dilip Doshi got the nod ahead of him. The sad truth is that never did the national selectors realize the true worth of Rajinder Goel. He was destined to remain constantly under the shade no matter whoever was brought into focus.

Rajinder Goel’s fanatastic statistical figures were never given any consideration by the national selectors, although the cricketers who faced him on the field of battle knew the worth of the warrior. He was a team-man, whatever the situation, whatever the conditions. Never had a single selfish bone lodged in his body. Whichever team he represented could count on him to be the stock bowler as well as the match winner. Once when I complimented his Haryana captain Dr Chadha, the latter – another gentleman in the truest sense – replied, “With Goel Paaji around, it makes our job easier.” What a compliment from a captain at least seven years his junior. So very well deserved, not only as a great spinner but as a human being. Every captain of Goel’s beginning from Tiger Pataudi to Bishen Bedi to Kapil Dev had the highest regard for this outstanding, left-arm orthodox spinner

Although his statistical figures far exceeded all his contemporaries, there is always a danger that his intrinsic value of his bowling skills would be submerged by the awesome records of his.

The genuine truth is that he, like Shivalkar and Ismail, was a ‘captain’s bowler’. He would volunteer to do the toughest job for the sake of the team. He would not shirk any responsibility. He would not try to put pressure on the younger men who led him.

As a person, he was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. Perpetually smiling, ever ready to help others, he never gave the impression that he was an opponent! Once at Eden he caught me off his own bowling for 99. After the match he and Kapil came to our dressing-room to say, “Raju, wish you got the single but we won the match.” Knowing him, I know he meant it. On the field he played tough; but off the field he was all charm.

At Feroze Shah Kotla against North Zone in 1972, I made my first-class debut. In a very low-scoring encounter East Zone won against an attack comprising Madanlal and Mohinder along with the spinners skipper Bedi, Gokul Inder Dev and the evergreen Rajinder Goel. After the match concluded, Bishen and Goel came to our room to congratulate. What a lovely gesture from such wonderful cricketers.

Both Bishen and Goel Bhai would invariably and sincerely maintain that the other person was the better bowler. I would hate to compare among the best. I would only add that they were at par with each other as the archers Karna and Arjuna were. If Karna was allowed to take part in the archery contest to win Draupudi, who knows what shape the Mahabharata would have taken…

A marvellous cricketer. An impeccable gentleman. His memory would linger. He was at peace with the world on earth. So would he be in Heaven.

 

GHULAM AHMED: a life in service of cricket

Ghulam Ahmed has an unparalleled coincidence in the annals of cricket. Apart from the one-Test players, he happens to be the only cricketer in the history of Test cricket to have made his Test debut and his final appearance against the same opposition and at the same venue. As if this was not enough coincidence, even the two Tests - 10 years apart - began on the same date, 31st December!

 On the last day of 1948 he walked in behind his skipper Lala Amarnath on the hallowed turf of Calcutta's Eden Gardens to begin his Test career. West Indies under John Goddard were the opponents. Exactly 10 years later, on 31st of December, 1958, he had his India blazer on as he walked out to toss with the rival skipper Gerry Alexander of West Indies. Never before or since has a cricketer had such a unique debut and farewell.

 In Ghulam Ahmed's time international cricket matches were few and far between. Overseas tours took place hardly thrice a decade and the domestic international calendar meant at the most 5 Tests during the winter months. However, despite his belated arrival on the international scene, the tall Hyderabadi right-arm off-spinner made no less than 22 appearances in those ten years.

 Ghulam Ahmed had a lovely easy action, delivered the ball from a ramrod-straight arm and projected a perpetually graceful demeanour. He had the ability to turn the ball on slate or marble if required. On turf or matting, as was prevalent in those days, he could be vicious, with the ball leaping and laughing at the batter.

 The strong knuckles of his would grip the ball powerfully and give it a twist to make it cringe and do his bidding. At the same time his long artistic fingers would gently caress the ball and coax it to drift away from the batsman. Such was his mastery over control and spin that he was a success on all kinds of wickets and under every conceivable condition.

 

Born at Hyderabad on 4th July, 1922, Ghulam made his first Ranji Trophy appearance at the tender age of 17. On his debut against Madras at Hyderabad the young off-spinner attracted immediate attention. With 5 for 95 off 40 overs and 4 for 62 off 25 he enabled Hyderabad to register an innings victory. But such was the disorganized state of affairs at the time that in the semi-finals the Hyderabad team failed to turn up! Thus the promising colt was deprived of further opportunities in his first year of first-class cricket.

However he continued to show commendable progress with every passing season in Ranji Trophy as well as in the various invitation tournaments of the time. Hence it came as a surprise to many when he was passed over for the 1946 tour of England and also for the 1947-48 tour of Australia. Missed two vital tours at the most opportune period of his cricket career.

Thankfully by 1948 when the West Indies with Weekes, Walcott, Ramadhin and Valentine arrived, the national selectors finally gave him the nod of assent at Eden Gardens in the third Test Match of the series. He was an immediate success claiming 4 for 94 off 35.5 overs and 2 for 87 off 25 in the match. His first two wickets were those of Clyde Walcott and Everton Weekes, two all-time greats and cricketing knights. In fact he had Sir Everton thrice in 5 outings in that series.

After the first series he had to wait till 1951-52 for his next tilt against official Test opposition. This time it was Nigel Howard's England (then M.C.C.). However true to the proverbial selectorial wisdom, Ghulam was bypassed for the first 3 Tests. Brought in for the 4th Test at Kanpur he created an immediate flutter in the adversary's camp with 5 wickets for just 90 runs off 37.1 overs.

 In the next Test in tandem with Vinoo Mankad, he was creating history. For the first time in 25 Tests, India was to win an official Test match. At Chennai, Hazare's Indians brought off a magnificent innings victory. If Mankad was the chief architect with 8 and 4 wickets in the match, Ghulam was an able ally with 4 vital wickets in the 2nd innings. In 26 overs he accounted for Tom Graveney, Robertson, Poole and Carr for just 77 runs.

 Almost overnight, as it were, Mankad and Ghulam Ahmed came to be regarded with awe and respect. The deadly duo had forged a match-winning combination. They complemented each other in striking contrast and remarkable similarity. Off spinner Ghulam, tall and slim, would bowl with a high-arm action. Left arm orthodox Mankad, short and stocky, would respond from the other end with a pronounced side-arm action. While Mankad would rely on flight and accuracy, Ghulam would be quicker through the air and make the ball turn sharply. Both were, of course, remarkably accurate and were genuine spinners of the ball. And both, like all great bowlers, used their grey cells to reap their rewards.

 On the tour of England in 1952 Ghulam Ahmed was an outstanding success. At Leeds in the first Test he captured 5 for 100 off 63 overs and 2 for 37 off 22. The British critics were appalled. For he had put even the great Jim Laker in the shade.

 Paeans of praise followed from all quarters. Far from giving him a superfluous glow, the early success made him more and more hungry. He took 8 more wickets in the next three completed innings that he bowled, thereby giving himself l5 victims in the series. Batsmen like Hutton, May, Graveney and Sheppard readily acknowledged that Mankad and Ghulam were among the very best in world cricket.

 Ghulam Ahmed's uninterrupted success continued when the Pakistan side under Kardar came down to India in 1952-53. He took 12 wickets in 4 Tests and was second only to Mankad in terms of success.

 But when the India team to tour West Indies was announced the name of our premier off-spinner was missing. What could have happened within a matter of months that after his success he would not be on the tour to West Indies? Did he make himself unavailable for any reason? None would ever know.

It goes without saying that a talent like Ghulam Ahmed was irreplaceable. On that tour the spinners on either side dominated. Ramadhin and Valentine for West Indies and for India, Mankad had the exceptional leggie Subhas Gupte for support. The Indians fielded magnificently on that tour and were beaten by the slenderest of margins. If only Ghulam had been alongside Mankad and Gupte ...

 Chastened by the experience, the selectors brought him back against Pakistan in 1954-55. In a series of negative ploys, Ghulam did claim 9 wickets at an average of 37.22. But he was far from his true self. Probably age was catching up with him for he was now in his mid 30s. In the series against New Zealand the following season he appeared distinctly jaded. Played in just one Test match and looked well past his real self.

 However, when the Australians arrived in 1956-57 under Ian Johnson, despite all expectations Ghulam Ahmed was chosen for the 1st Test at Chennai. He bowled well enough to take 2 for 67 off 38 overs, but had the mortification to find himself replaced in the 2nd Test at Mumbai by Jasu Patel. The ding-dong policy of the Indian selectors was not yet over. For the 3rd and final Test at Calcutta, Ghulam was brought back and Patel omitted!

 The great spinner's final days were surely at hand. He must have wanted to make it a memorable finale. At Eden Gardens, bowled magnificently and single-handedly almost brought about Australia's downfall. Ghulam had his career-best figures of 7 for 49 and 3 for 81. It was superlative bowling by a real master. For all practical purposes it was his swansong. An end to a distinctive cricket career. And the Gardens crowd stood up to pay homage to the departing frame of a graceful, handsome man.

 Little did they know of the whims of our national selectors. When the West Indies arrived in the winter of 1958-59 we rubbed our eyes in disbelief to see Ghulam Ahmed in the India team. By then he was well past his prime. The tall frame had developed a stoop. He looked tired. And now, surprise of surprises, the selectors had even given him the captaincy! He led India at Kanpur and then at Calcutta. In 3 innings he bowled 56 overs and got just 1 wicket.

 It was indeed a painful sight. A great bowler's shadow was going through the motion. Our myopic selectors far from honouring him with the captaincy, had saddled him with a responsibility far too heavy for him. Thankfully Ghulam retired after the 3rd Test at Calcutta.

 Eden Gardens, which had seen him making a remarkable debut and later witnessed his best bowling performance, was indeed sad to see a morose, stooping figure sadly heading for the pavilion. Resounding defeats in both the Tests had disillusioned him and he left the international area for the last time: a forlorn man, bereft of form and fan following.

 Ghulam Ahmed's first class career spanned from 1939 to 1958. In more than nearly two decades of cricket he captured 407 wickets at the economical average of 22.57, providing conclusive evidence of his penetrative ability and his control. His stamina was indeed staggering. Once in 1950-51 he bowled 555 deliveries in an innings against Holkar in the Ranji Trophy. At the time it was a world record.

 In Tests he claimed 68 wickets at 30.17 in 22 matches. Without doubt a  remarkable piece of statistics considering the fact that his 22-Test career spanned 10 years.

After retiring from active cricket he devoted himself to serve the game as an administrator. Initially, he was a very conscientious secretary of Hyderabad Cricket Association and later was elevated to the secretaryship of the BCCI.

 In his time, youth cricket received a shot in the arm in Hyderabad. Many talented youngsters from Hyderabad came into prominence. Further, Ghulam Ahmed took great initiative to organize on behalf of BCCI the all-India schools coaching camps at Hyderabad. Actually I first met him as a trainee in one of these camps under  former England Test cricketer T.S.Worthington and E.D.Aibara in 1966. His charm, his knowledge and his love for the game have left indelible impressions on me.

 That was the only time I met him.  He was the man who had organized comfortable dormitory accommodation and nutritious meals at the Lal Bahadur Stadium in Fateh Maidan. The English coach TS Worthington would also have his meals with the trainees. This was quite a departure from the very mediocre facilities that the other States would provide to school-boy cricketers at the time 60 years ago. He had two remarkable assistants in Maan Singh and Ranga Reddy who were efficiency personified.  

 Ghulam Ahmed’s close proximity to the Board brought him managerial assignments on overseas tours and selectorial appointments. On both counts, he proved his undoubted capability. On the ill-fated 1962 tour of West Indies it was his masterful handling of the situation that helped the Nari Contractor-injury from snow-balling into a major cricketing controversy.

 And later in 1983 he was one of the selectors who helped to pick the 1983 World Cup team. Probably the only India team ever that was chosen on tactical planning, sheer merit and current form. Borde and Bedi were the other selectors. Pankaj Roy (East Zone) and Chandu Sarwate (Central Zone) could not find the time to attend the selection committee meeting!

 Elegant and eloquent; suave and sophisticated, Ghulam Ahmed was a man of many dimensions. His manner on and off the field showed that even in the hectic pace of modern life-style there is a distinctive place for the old-world charm. He brought the Hyderabadi adaab to the noble game. A gentleman to the core in every respect.

 

A mid-week blog on a special person, MY FRIEND KUNAL, who sacrificed his life for cricket without gaining any fame or fortune.                                                                           

Kunal Kanti Ghosh, the man behind Jagmohan Dalmiya’s rise and rise and rise, is no more. After 59 winters, the genteel gentleman left behind a long string of fond memories. Every successful man needs support from various quarters. But invariably there happens to be one who becomes a close confidant and adviser. A matured support particularly in times of adversity.

Such a support was Kunal Kanti Ghosh from the famous Ghosh Parivar of Baghbazar.  The widely acclaimed family, full of dedicated freedom-fighters, started Amrita Bazar Patrika and Jugantar, the two Calcutta-based national dailies that heralded and highlighted India’s nationalist movement in the pre-independence days.

Kunal inherited the intelligence and the studious nature of his forefathers. The courage of upholding principles was in his genes. Despite his high profile status as Jagmohan Dalmiya’s chief assistant and advisor, Kunal maintained an extremely low profile.

 His education was entirely from the Catholic missionary background where he picked up the patience and the perseverance of the Belgian priests of Calcutta St Xavier’s. He was eminently suited to play the mentor’s role, the saviour’s role and the executioner’s role all rolled into one.

The man who benefitted the most from Kunal’s pragmatic approach was none other than the highly successful Jagmohan Dalmiya who held prestigious posts at CAB, BCCI, ACC and ICC. Dalmiya without Kunal beside him was like a motor car without its wheels.

Almost every positive act of Dalmiya had Kunal’s distinctive shadow in focus. Speech-writing? Yes, Kunal.  Correspondence? Again Kunal. Any written message? Of course, Kunal. Draft of plans? Most certainly, Kunal. Any new projects to think of? Discuss with Kunal. Difficulty in handling a problem situation? Send Kunal.

Kunal had the maturity and the ability to help Dalmiya during his awkward moments as did Biswarup Dey. JD always had the highest regard for both of them for the support system that he needed.

Modest to a fault, Kunal would not take any credit for Dalmiya’s perpetual rise. He was the man who put the idea of ‘globalization of cricket’ into Dalmiya’s head when the latter went to ICC to campaign and contest.

He was the man who trapped me and Gopal Bose by advising Dalmiya to involve us in the coaching of Bengal junior teams at a time when junior cricket in the state was in shambles in the 1990s. It was Kunal’s vision that helped Bengal cricket to revive itself.

Kunal also happened to be the adviser who guided Dalmiya to involve Siddhartha Shankar Ray and me to save India skipper Sourav Ganguly from suspension for slow over-rate against Pakistan at Eden Gardens. The former Chief Minister argued and won the battle based on my draft “Time lost; not Time wasted”. But one of the real heroes was Kunal Kanti Ghosh who brought the right minds together.

Kunal was about 12 years my junior at St Xavier’s School (Batch of 1979). First met him when a young sports journalist folded his hands in namaskar and introduced himself in the press-box, “Rajuda, I too am a Xaverian. I am covering the Test match for Amrita Bazar Patrika. I shall need your help.” That small gesture revealed a man of exceptional humility and earnestness.

I replied, “Oh! Wonderful, making your Test debut at Eden Gardens! Let’s sit together and chat.” I left my allotted seat, sat beside him and we watched the Test together at Eden Gardens. Little did we know that soon my young friend would be in total control of the iconic cricket arena as the chief assistant to the president.

My young friend Kunal was totally involved with my 2^nd innings in Indian cricket. Having resigned from CAB junior coaching scheme, I was busy with my first book in 2004 when a phone-call came from Kunal, “Rajuda, Jaguda would be offering you a responsibility. Please do not refuse it.” I told him that I would not want to get involved with JD’s CAB again. But Kunal argued, “This would be nothing to do with CAB. It is to be a talent scout for BCCI.”  When Dalmiya called, I accepted the offer.

 My 2^nd innings lasted from 2004 as BCCI talent scout and continued till 2013 as ICC international match referee, the first among Indian non-Test players. Without Kunal’s initiative I would not have enjoyed my final years as much as I did. All credit to my young friend for his matured, free-thinking pragmatism.

Kunal held very responsible positions and consequently had to deal with a wide variety of people. He was remarkably cool and composed in the face of huge odds and some very corrupt people. But he stuck to his convictions and had the courage and the tact to deal with people with a ready smile.

A fascinating individual he was. He literally sacrificed his own self and everything in life for the game of cricket. Took back nothing in return. Not that he wanted to. No, never. His greatest quality was that he made the most difficult jobs look easy. Probably that is the reason he got no recognition in life as well as in death.

Kunal knew very well that I would not accept any match tickets, even Club House complimentary ones, but he would still call on every occasion and ask if he could send me a at least two, “For boudi and you.”

Shall miss you, Kunal. Do keep smiling. God will always be with you.

 

 

 

 

Lto R: Pankaj Roy, Premangshu Chatterjee, Chuni Goswami and Shyam Sundar Mitra at Eden Gardens during a Veterans' match.

Shyam Sundar Mitra: Role-model gone, memory remains…

When cricket connoisseurs including Sunil Gavaskar talk of Shyam Sundar Mitra invariably they remember him as the most deserving middle-order batsman who never represented India.  His cricket career ran along the lines of Veda Vyas’ heroic warrior Karna: forever in neglect, but cannot be disregarded for his outstanding merit.

Shyamu, to his friends and foes, did not believe in joining groups; had no desire to have ‘backers’; hated sycophancy. He was his own man, a singular individual: aware of his capabilities and in complete control of himself. Destiny had decided that he would be neglected and rejected by the mediocrity around him. But again like Karna, SS towered over all his contemporaries on his own merit.

In a sea of corrupt influences, invariably enough he paid for his uprightness. While Shivalkar and Goel lost out on a Test place because of the looming presence of Bishan Bedi, SS was tripped for a strange reason. A very domineering national selector hailing from Bengal wanted SS to play for his club Sporting Union in Calcutta. But SS preferred to be loyal to Mohun Bagan AC which he adorned with dignity and pride from 1964 to 1974. The price for his integrity was to remain in oblivion forever.

Just for the record, the handful of Bengal players who played for India in the 1950s and 1960s were all from the same club, Sporting Union! Unfortunately not only Bengal, Indian sport too has always suffered because of these petty-minded people handling important sport portfolios.

Shyam Sundar Mitra graced Bengal and East Zone teams for more than a decade. Serious readers would appreciate that a batting average of above 50 does not happen often. An aggregate of 3058 at 50.13 from 59 first-class matches is a phenomenal feat on uncovered and spinner-friendly Indian pitches of the 1960s and 1970s. His 7 centuries included two against the might of Bombay of those days. He had two more in a single match against a strong Indian Railways side, which included the superb medium-pace bowler Vasant Ranjane.

As if this was not enough, SS scored a masterly hundred against the great Vinoo Mankad on a matting wicket at Udaipur. Those who thought he was weak against genuine pace got their answer when he notched 98 against the fiery and fearsome West Indies fast bowler Roy Gilchrist who had sent shivers down the spine of our established Test batters.

Exemplary concentration, unruffled temperament, cultured stroke-play and an impregnable defence were the hall marks of his skills. His batsmanship was based on classical lines. He preferred the ‘back and across’ movement at the crease but whenever the opportunity arose he would go half-forward and drive on the up.

Like the persona, his bat was always straight. That most difficult of all cricket strokes – the on-drive off the back-foot – was his copyright trademark and he accomplished it with rare grace. His batsmanship was a visual delight. Handsome of bearing, the chiselled face topped a lithe physique of 6 feet.

Every rare failure was a torment for him. Made no show of it but the grim exterior could not hide his feelings. Every unsuccessful innings was merely a new lesson to be guided by in the next challenge. Never saw him repeat the same mistake.

He had the dogged Bombay-batting streak in him: hated to lose his wicket and play the long, grinding innings. What an approach to have and to be able to execute the plan. As a middle-order batter he was constantly in the company of late-order batsmen as partners. He however mastered the difficult art of batting with tail-enders. A very difficult lesson to learn and to follow.

Academically very sound, the highly intelligent man had a terrific sense of humour: the dry, cultured wit of PG Wodehouse, whose books he would read on tours. Someone once mocked, “Shyamu, tui boddo kaalo! Tai na?  (Shyamu, you are very dark! Isn’t that so?).” Instantly he flashed an impeccable, non-emotional response, “So would you be, if you were to bat for as long as I do.”

His straight-face sarcasm we relished. Once he remarked to a batter, who was dismissed off the first ball that he had faced, “If you keep batting in this way, your new bat will last a lifetime!” His dry wit extended to the ground as well. “Two on his neck, one on his shoulder, one on his waist and one on his lap!” was a typical skipper SS’s way of setting the field for two slips, one gully, one short-leg and one silly-point! (Sounds better in Bengali: dujon gharey ot, ekjon kadhey chaap, ekjon komor dhar aar ekjon koley bosh!).

Indian Test spinner Bapu Nadkarni’s accuracy was legendary. Once in 1963 he had spun 21 consecutive ‘maiden-overs’ in the Madras Test against England. His nagging length and line made batters impatient and invariably they perished trying to hit him across the line. So SS Mitra’s prescription to his Bengal mates was, “Bapu does not like to be hit; so don’t try to hit him! The Bapus do not like violence, so why bother?”

Possessed distinct, distinguished traits with the bat in hand. His leisurely gait and perpetual smirk would rattle the opposition. As he emerged from the pavilion he could be irritatingly slow and appeared unsteady! Did not have a swagger like Viv Richards, but his languid movements gave the impression of an arrogant zamindar out to inspect his estate-property!

Under modern-day laws he would be declared ‘timed out’ for being more than 2 minutes late in taking stance. But little did he need to care. Times were different, the laws were different and the ethos of the game was different. The zamindar of a batter would grandly observe the surroundings, promenade for a while and then nurse the pitch with a few taps of the bat on the soil. Finally he would ask the umpire, “Sir, two-legs, please”, followed by “Thanks”. Then there would be an involuntary cough to convey that he was finally getting ready!

 Now with a slight twitch of the nose, SS would look disdainfully at the fielders and only then would condescend to get ready to face the first delivery! Generally he would gently place the ball between mid-wicket and mid-on for his first run, as Sir Don was supposed to do decades ago.

Mitra’s movements and mannerisms always created in my youthful mind an impression of a maharaja commanding his vassals to bowl at him! His confidence and his composure were unparalleled. Distinctive and distinguished, he was indeed a royal with the bat in hand. Once when a bowler cursed him, he gasped loud enough for the world to hear, “Oh! No. He has forgotten his mother tongue and also has not been able to learn proper English. How unfortunate!”

My first real look at him was at Mohun Bagan AC, a club I joined at 17 just after my ISC exam. He was our captain. It was a delight to see him use the bat as a violin. Melody flowed as he seemed to middle every ball. My impressionable mind realized that this man was different, far ahead of any of his contemporaries.

 I became the Ekalavya to this Dronacharya. Tried to pick up the finer points by observing, evaluating and practising. Subconsciously the style became somewhat ingrained, I presumed! One championship-winning partnership with him against Subroto Guha and Dilip Doshi of Sporting Union helped the teenager to learn more about batting than anything that he had learnt earlier.   

I reckon SS never took a fancy to me when we were together in Mohun Bagan for about 3 years. Probably he found me to be an upstart because of my over-casual unshaven bearing and appearance in denim jeans and long kurta. Can’t blame him! Not that he criticized me, but he would never praise.

Nothing I did seemed to satisfy him. He seemed to have no time for others. Probably his approach was the correct approach. Why would he come forward with suggestions, when not asked? He refrained from giving unsolicited advice. On my part, I too kept a discreet distance but kept my eyes and ears open whenever he was around. Thankfully.

Years later, after I got a match-winning 99 against Kapil Dev and Rajinder Goel at Eden Gardens, Shyamuda – at the time the chairman of Bengal selectors – wryly smiled, “Ah! Captain, I see you have got the right role-model. I quite remember the style!” That was enough for me. High praise from a man who was unaware that he was my batting idol ever since I first saw him bat.

Physical training, as was the general trend at the time, was anathema to him. Had a distinct dislike for fielding. These qualities too I acquired in double-quick time! He relished maintaining that in cricket there should be two sets of players: one for batting and another for bowling and fielding! Having said this, I must admit he was always a reliable catcher in the slip cordon.

He bowled medium-paced out-swingers with a pronounced back-arch, which probably was the reason for the back-ache that he suffered from in late life. Despite his outstanding batting qualities Shyamuda was a dreadful runner between the wickets. Chuni Goswami always maintained that Shyamuda ran out more batting partners than anybody else in the world!

For all his prolific, consistent scores against the best of oppositions, he was never considered by the national selectors despite having a batting average of over 50 in first-class cricket. Not once was he given a trial even in the Irani Trophy for the Rest of India team.  His loyalty to his club Mohun Bagan cost him a place in the India team.

Thankfully, visionary corporate executive Russy Mody of the Tata’s realized the potential of the young cricketer and offered him a responsible job with the esteemed organization at their Calcutta office. Russy Mody could have easily forced him to go to Jamshedpur and represent Bihar. But the magnanimous man did not do so. Russy Mody understood and appreciated that SS longed to remain in Calcutta and to represent his home state of Bengal. For more than three decades SS served the institution with utmost loyalty and integrity, as was his nature, in various responsible corporate roles.

Yes, Shyamuda, you were one of my role-models: a gentleman of culture; an unassuming warrior of courage; a cricketer of class and composure; a brilliant companion of remarkable wit and wisdom.

Years after his retirement met him one day when he was awarded the “Lifetime Achievement” honour by CAB. Found that he still nursed that eternal regret of his, “Raju, how I wish I had played for India. Don’t you think I deserved at least one chance?” One could make out the deep injury to his psyche.

 I softly tried to console, “Shyamuda, I think you are better off than so many others. People still wonder why you were never considered in Tests. People still love you, no less. Don’t you think this is a terrific compensation? I feel it is God’s blessing to all your talents.”

A mischievous smile surfaced, “Raju, sada daari-taa katish na. Rekhe de!” (“Raju, let your grey beard remain!”)

Very typical of my Shyamuda, an admirable persona of dimensions. Forever forgotten by the famous in the fraternity. Were they jealous? Were they suffering from some inferiority complex?

The cricketing Karna remains where he should be. In our heart.

 

 

Rajan Bala: the Jekyl and Hyde of Indian cricket…

Rajan Bala was his own enemy. Totally disoriented and totally disorganized. Highly unreliable; lacked any semblance of discipline. Then why were so many people so very fond of him?  So very attached to him? Therein lay the magic of Rajan Bala.

Exceptionally knowledgeable he could speak on any subject worth mentioning. English literature, religion, history, politics, economics, medicine or sports came alike to him. The depth and orbit of his learning cannot be described. What a communicator he was! One had to meet him to realize and appreciate the magnetic appeal of the man.

Highly sensitive, he could make one weep with his emotional rendering of Rabindrasangeet. He did not have a melodious voice but he made up for it through his spontaneity and sentiments. Highly emotional, he was prone to extreme behavior. Highly intelligent, he was impatient with people who had problems following him. He summed himself very appropriately, “I am a proud Bong by being born and brought up in Bengal and a proud Tamil for having Tamil blood in my veins.” He would not stoop to mention his caste and creed, but even his critics realized that he belonged to the highest breed in any society because of his exceptional attributes.

Rajanda was a very bad judge of men. Invariably he fell for flatterers. As a born extrovert he loved mixing with players. Because of his gregarious and generous nature, he became too close to most players. Little did he realize that most of the players and administrators who mixed with him so very closely were only there for their own personal interest.

Players who had ‘used’ him during their playing careers dropped him the moment he retired from journalism. This was a regret he nursed till his last days. During his heydays so very obsessive was he with some of them that he would overlook their weakness and defend them at all cost. Never quite understood that they were not true friends but fiends.

He was involved with the Bengal players of the 1960s. They were his college-mates and fellow club cricketers. When he became a journalist, he left no stone unturned to help them gain all-India publicity. Quality Bengal players of the calibre of Ambar Roy, Subroto Guha, Gopal Bose and Dilip Doshi were particularly close to him. No doubt they were excellent cricketers but without Rajan Bala’s constant and vociferous media support they would not have received the regular and massive coverage they received at the national level. He wrote on them constantly till the selectors woke up to take notice. I know of no other journalist who has done this kind of selfless work. Unfortunately hardly anyone among them acknowledged their debt to him.

However Rajanda’s status at the all-India level lay untarnished. Pataudi and Jaisimha were his special pals but no less were Chandrasekhar, Prasanna and Bedi. In fact Rajanda ‘ghosted’ the books written by Pataudi, Chandra and Prasanna. He was especially close to Tiger Pataudi. They spent hours discussing cricket and cricketers. Pataudi was not a garrulous person but he had a lovely dry wit. He enjoyed Rajanda’s constant chatter on anything and everything under the sun. Pataudi certainly appreciated his friend’s wide and deep knowledge of cricket among other subjects. Theirs was an association based on reciprocal respect for each other’s outstanding qualities.

At the wedding ceremony of the glamorous couple Tiger Pataudi and Sharmila Tagore, apart from Rajan Bala no other sports journalist was invited. Among the players were only Ambar Roy and my elder brother Deb Mukherji.

Wanting to gossip, I asked Rajanda about the location of the ceremony at Calcutta. Typically he replied, “How will I remember? It was not my wedding!” Then as an after-thought he added, “May be at Nizam Palace, somewhere near Camac Street. I remember Satyajit Ray presented the couple with reels of Ray’s films where Sharmila Tagore had acted. Bechu Dutta Ray, the national selector, who was supposed to be ‘very close’ to Tiger was not among the invitees,” he signed off with a hearty laughter. Later very pointedly mentioned, “Raju, let me assure you Tiger had no time for cronies or for corrupt administrators.”

Rajan Bala’s image abroad never waned. He wrote as a freelancer for the best of magazines and newspapers in foreign lands. He commentated on BBC Radio in his impeccable diction but never made any hue and cry over it. The tenor and tone of his voice made him highly popular among the cricket aficionado. His knowledge and analyses were at par with the best the world could offer. No wonder BBC Radio relied on him for years even after his retirement for expert comments to cover the Test day’s proceedings. Men of the eminence of John Woodcock, Christopher Martin Jenkins, Dicky Rutnagur among others considered him to be their friend. His reputation as a writer as well as a commentator was well deserved.

As a radio commentator he was unparalleled. Although very close to Tiger Pataudi and Ambar Roy, no radio-listener would have been able to make out any bias in his comments. He was as critical of them as he was of the others. Today when you hear words like ‘momento’ and ‘inning’ over the air with constant regularity you realize why sensible listeners keep the volume at zero. Thirty years ago these mediocre commentators would not have been given another opportunity.

But having said all this, I would add at the same time that his books were a disappointment to me. For a man of his knowledge, understanding and contacts his books should have had far more depth in his analyses; far more details into intricacies. He was at the centre of Indian cricket for the better part of three decades. But it seemed that many very serious issues completely eluded him. This was not the Rajan Bala I was familiar with and highly admired. He seemed to be in a hurry while writing his books. Never did justice to his talents as an author of books.

While he was such a hard-hitting journalist who cared for no administrator either of BCCI or CAB or AIFF or any other sport association in his regular columns for three decades, why was he so different in his books? Rajan Bala the writer of articles and Rajan Bala the author of cricket books were entirely two different personalities. Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde.

Why was it so? No one has yet been able to give a convincing answer. I only wish some publisher would get hold of his articles and publish those as ‘collected works’. That title would be a bestseller. Full of incidents, full of anecdotes, full of aggression, full of characters, full of technicalities. But then Rajan Bala was not a person who would collate and keep his articles together. Wonder where his fantastic collection of sports books has gone.

Once while working on the former Test-cricketer of ‘bodyline’ fame, Jack Fingleton as journalist, Rajanda asked me for a particular copy of Sport & Pastime of 1960. Had no option but to tell him that all my S&P copies of 20 years were borrowed by a research scholar and not returned.

Rajanda’s instant reaction was, “You mean he took the entire collection and vanished?” I said, “Well, he claimed that I had gifted 20 years of Sport & Pastime copies to him. And he had sent those to USA!”

Rajanda was dazed, “Ah! So our famous researcher-turned-journalist felt that a cricket-book collector would part with rare copies of S&P of the 1950s and 1960s for no rhyme or reason. Of course, none can touch him as he has always been an Establishment crony. He has tricked many over the years.” Then he added, “However let’s give the conman his due. He even tricked Jagu (Jagmohan Dalmiya). That certainly deserved a gold medal!”

I had kept in constant touch with Rajanda over the decades. Wherever he would be – Mumbai, Chennai or Bangalore – I would make it a point to visit him and marvel at his genius. His equation with my wife Seema and me would be of a parent beside his son and daughter-in-law. We were very attached to him. So much so that we would even at times try to ‘guide’ him. He would indulge us with a smile, but all to no avail. No ‘guidance’ could curb his self-destructive ways of life. His final years led to serious health problems and he seemed totally drained of all physical energy. But there no stopping the fount of knowledge. It flowed with all the exuberance of youth…

I first met Rajan Bala during a friendly cricket match between St Xavier’s College and St Xavier’s School at Calcutta in 1966. The college team, although not at full strength, had their best bowlers Dilip Doshi and Suprakash Som in the playing XI. Ironically, in a one-sided match, it was the school team which actually defeated the seniors by 8 wickets!

At the end of the match a man of immense bulk came and congratulated us on our victory. He happened to be Rajan Bala. He was with The Statesman at the time and had come to interview Dilip Doshi, then a rising prospect of Bengal. But when he saw the schoolboys in action, so impressed was he that he willingly spent time to talk to us for quite a while.

Honestly I wasn’t too impressed by him that day. Found him too pompous, too preposterous. Years later Rajanda told me that he found me too serious, too determined and too confident!  I believe I had told him, “If we get such trash bowling, we shall thrash them again!” Rajanda instantly had pointed out, “Yes, Doshi tried his best to get you boys out and couldn’t.  But don’t forget, apart from the first two overs, Suprakash did not bowl at his full pace because of the dicey matting pitch. You must learn to judge merit from various angles. If he had bowled fast some of you may have got injured. Supi is a very decent gentleman.”

Actually our opening batsmen Jayanta Chatterjee and Babul Mitter showed real gumption to deal with Som’s fearsome pace early in the innings. On loose matting, the bounce was disconcerting, no doubt. Michael Carlos and I were lucky that Som had bowled to us with a shortened run-up. Today I well remember that having heard Rajan Bala, I walked up to Suprakash Som and thanked him for not injuring us. Suprakash Som, ever smiling, shook my hand, “No, no, I tried my best but could not get you or your partner out. Congrats.”

Realized there and then why cricket was known as a ‘gentleman’s game’. This was the first time that I had such an experience and it was all due to Rajan Bala opening my eyes to the niceties of the noble game. Thanks, Rajanda, for pinpointing to me what gentlemanliness on the sports arena actually meant.

I was very fortunate that during my formative years the formidable personality of Rajan Bala was dominating the Calcutta maidan with his presence and penmanship. Very unusual for a sport editor, he would personally cover even club matches, first with The Statesman and later with Hindustan Standard (precursor to The Telegraph). I am sure it was his strong, eye-opening articles that helped me to climb the ladder to first-class cricket.

He attacked administrators and selectors with facts and figures and made them open their eyes and ears for the betterment of Bengal cricket. Although Rajanda was Ambar Roy’s best friend, none else but he advocated Chuni Goswami as the Bengal captain to replace Ambar Roy in 1970! Chunida’s 2-season tenure as captain brought a breath of fresh air to Bengal cricket and with it came regular success.

Rajanda just could not settle down at one place. He changed jobs and cities as quickly as one would change one’s tooth-brush. Almost every top media house in India had the benefit of his service. His freelancing for All India Radio and Doordarshan too did not last long, although he was considered among the best in the business. His approach was much too aggressive for most. He was far ahead of his times. He was a restless visionary who did not have the patience to adhere to the general slow pace of the period.

While with The Indian Express and The Hindu at Chennai, he nursed and nurtured a group of trainees who went on to become jewels in the Indian sports media. All them became authors of serious books, held prominent positions in India and abroad and were very highly rated as journalists. Among them happened to be Gulu Ezekiel, R Mohan and others. At Calcutta his protégés were Subrata (Rana) Sirkar and Arijit Sen, both of whom were acknowledged to be among the finest sports journalists in the country.

I worked with him just once. He had professionally left Calcutta for good by the time I was seriously into freelance-journalism by early 1980s. Later once he had come to Calcutta to cover a Test match at Eden Gardens for Deccan Herald.  He had the former Test legend Bhagawat Chandrasekhar accompanying him to add some extra touches to the Test coverage. And Rajanda with Moti Nandi’s permission asked me to write a daily column for DH evening edition apart from my regular daily match coverage for ABP in Bengali.

It was an experience of a lifetime. Totally non-conventional. To begin with, Rajanda had convinced DH to have an evening supplement for its readers. So we would have to cover the Test till tea-break and send the report by telex. Fair enough. Something new for me but luckily everything clicked.

Then we found Chandra missing after lunch on the 2^nd day! He had left the press box at the luncheon interval and did not show up. Rajanda appeared least worried! He wrote his own piece and then Chandra’s as well! When I went through Rajanda’s report and then “Chandra’s” piece on Rajanda’s typewriter, I was staggered. Rajanda’s own article contained impeccable reporting with his usual literary flavor while “Chandra’s” had technical analysis in simple English. Only the genius of Rajan Bala could manage to write two separate columns in two totally different ways in a matter of two hours.

Next few days were no less awkward. Rajanda as usual held court at the press box. He was perpetually talking, writing, guiding and getting involved with all and sundry. When the CAB big-boss Dalmiya came to the Press Box to enquire about the packet-lunch served, Rajanda, fully aware of my equation with CAB, was nonchalant as ever, “Haven’t tried the CAB lunch-packet. Moti, Dicky and I are enjoying Raju’s ham sandwiches and chicken patties!” Later when he found that Chandra was having trouble in keeping his eyes open after lunch, he told Chandra to go back to the hotel room for a proper slumber!

As if this was not enough, he asked me, “Raju, today why don’t you do Chandra’s copy?” My ABP sports editor Moti Nandi, sitting beside me, immediately objected, “No way. Raju is nobody’s ghost-writer.” Rajanda, perhaps had anticipated what was coming, laughed, “Of course, in Bengal you don’t have any bhoot (ghost). All of you are ad-bhoot (peculiar)!” The class and maturity of the verbal exchanges of two outstanding personalities made life worth living.

In 1989 former Pakistan captain Abdul Hafeez Kardar had come to Chennai to witness the India-Pakistan Test at the invitation of BCCI. The evening before the match Rajanda and I met the suave Kardar at the Connemara Hotel lounge and kept chatting well beyond midnight. My room-mate was the ABP senior photographer Nikhil Bhattacharya.

Nikhilda, who was waiting for me to go back to our hotel together, got very upset after a while, “Rajan, please let Raju go.  The curfew is about to begin, the police will take us to jail if you delay any further.” Rajanda had little sense of timing or tact. He coolly rhymed, “Dear Nix, you carry on. If Raju is taken to jail, I shall organize the bail!”

Thankfully nothing untoward happened but Rajanda’s sense of perspective or rather the lack of it was laid bare. The great captain Kardar softly quipped, “Rajan, generally I sleep at night. Shall we all retire?” The charm and wit of the Cambridge graduate, who had represented India before independence as Abdul Hafeez, eased the situation.

Once Seema and I went to Bangalore and decided to look him up as we were out of touch for a while. Luckily for us, we found him enjoying his gin and tonic at KSCA. But his appearance shattered us. The big burly man had shrunk appreciably with his eyes protruding. A palpable case of diabetes. “Hope you are keeping fine,” I asked out of habit. Rajanda smiled, “With my reckless lifestyle, am I supposed to keep fine? Don’t worry, Raju. Let’s chat about the past.” I could not say much. I could see life wasting away.

When Seema handed a Batik-printed paanjaabi (Bengal-style kurta) to him, Rajanda could not hold back his tears, “Amazing, amazing are the ways of Lord Shiva. My days are numbered and still my bond with Bengal never ends. Tagore’s Santiniketani Batik in hand in the final hours. Oh! Lord, thanks. What a life: gift of birth in Bengal; gift at death also from Bengal.”

I clasped his hands, “Please do not utter another such word.” Rajanda placed his hands on our shoulders, “Raju and Seema, you do not know how fortunate you are that you were both born in Bengal. Bengal shall always remain blessed academically, spiritually and culturally. Let us rejoice. We threesome are Bengalis by birth; our parentage may be Bengali, Marathi and Tamil but we are all Bengalis at heart. Let’s sing Gurudev’s songs and go our own destined ways…”

Within a week, we came to know that he was no more. An irrepressible genius, destined to self-destruct, left an indelible impression on me. OM NAMAH SHIVAY.

 

My tribute to my Lulu-da

Former Bengal captain, BCCI talent scout and junior national selector, PC Poddar left us on 29^th December, 2022. For over two decades he represented Bengal and Rajasthan as well as East and Central zonal teams.

For Board President’s XI, his century against Mike Smith’s MCC in 1963-64 pitch-forked him into India Test side. But not in the playing XI. The brilliant fielder had to remain content as the 12^th man in all the 5 Tests as other batters came in and went out of the XI!

In the only occasion he wore the India colours was against Sri Lanka (then Ceylon), he scored 30 plus only to find himself relegated to the sidelines forever. Those days Sri Lanka was not a full-fledged Test side, hence the match  was considered an unofficial test.

Extremely bright and well-informed, Poddar – Lulu-da to us, his neighbours – was an extremely good student of the game and well versed in the laws of cricket. At times, his views were very non-conventional. Once when he was at the end of his long club-cricket career, he wore white shorts while batting at a club match at Eden Gardens! He told the umpires to show him the law where it was written that every player must be in trousers! None could convince the very senior man about traditions and conventions of cricket.

He had little time for sensitivity and sentiments. He was a hard-core pragmatic who had the courage to get into serious disputes with all and sundry. Once in a Duleep Trophy tie, when the West Zone fielders were trying to disturb his concentration by making exclamatory sighs and muffled comments, he suddenly stopped batting and asked the umpire, “What’s this ‘bheu, bheu’ (barking)? Some dog hiding somewhere?”  Saying this he went around the close-in fielders searching for a dog (!) saying, “Mein kutta sey bahut darta hoon!” The game had to be stopped for about two minutes to calm him down! Pioneer of ‘reverse sledging’?

Those days in the mid-1970s, the one-day Deodhar Trophy matches were held a day prior to the 3-day Duleep Trophy matches. He knew that I wasn’t too keen to play the one-day matches. So Lulu-da encouraged, “Raju, don’t worry. The one-dayer is only a practice-match for the real Duleep Trophy match next day!”  Quixotic ideas, indeed, he had.

His cricket was based on the firm principle of sound forward defensive technique and eternal temperament. He would play forward to almost every ball! Against bumpers, he possessed the excellent technique of either ‘ducking’ or ‘weaving away’.

His favourite strokes were the off-side front-foot drives with the cover-drive predominating. Also executed a rasping square-cut. On the leg side he would normally just place. Basically a grafter, his presence in the batting-order always acted as a discouragement to the opponents. The fact remains that he was a very successful Ranji Trophy batter. Scored runs against the best of oppositions and bowlers. He was comfortable against both pace and spin.

We lived in neighbouring lanes. Every morning he would go for his early morning run and free-hand physical exercises. Not many players would do so in the 1950s. All the effort bore fruit as he developed himself into an excellent fielder at cover.

According to Prakash Chandra Poddar, his father was vehemently against him playing cricket. So one day, the gentleman was supposed to have shouted at him, “Prakash, if you wish to play cricket then you have to leave my house. No more bat-ball nonsense. Concentrate on your business.” Lulu-da, trust him, immediately left his paternal property, continued playing cricket and went on to become a highly successful businessman! No half measures with PC Poddar around.

Lulu-da always prided in saying, “I must be the first from the Marwari community to play cricket seriously. Cricket is the ideal sport for us: slow and steady; accumulation of runs; no body-contact involved and one can plan over a span of time!”

He continued, “In my days the Marwaris did not play because there were no monetary returns from cricket. But now with the phenomenal amount of money floating around, I am sure many Marwaris will play serious cricket in future!” The visionary was of course speaking for all communities of Indians of the future.

Very wealthy, he could afford the best brand of automobiles. But he would prefer to travel only in public transport, favourite being the slow and steady trams! He looked smart in suits and jackets. But that would be very rare. Normally he would wear shin-length (!), white pyjamas and half-sleeved white cotton shirts. And carry an umbrella at times or a muffler or perhaps a hand-towel depending upon the season. Lessons in practicality at its best.

People joked about his dress-sense but not me. I realized that he was just being his own self. An intelligent man of astounding self- confidence. He developed a close affinity to me perhaps because of the routine apparel that I wore at the time, “Raju, if you are wearing a long kurta, why are you wearing denim jeans with it? No, no, you must wear either pyjamas or still better dhoties. Good to see that you are sensible enough to carry an umbrella.” Thankfully I had the intelligence to nod graciously and acknowledge his excellent guidance.

As BCCI talent scouts, Lulu-da and this writer were the first to identify the exceptional talents of a man from Jharkhand (then Bihar) and inform BCCI about him. Lulu-da always maintained, “I wonder what the zonal and national selectors were doing all these years,” whenever the late arrival of one MSD was discussed.

Extremely proper, spotlessly clean and duty-conscious, he had very orthodox religious habits. It was a lesson to see him seek divine blessings by placing his cricket bat at Maa Durga’s feet at the Puja Mandap on every Bijoya Dasami.

Began his career for Bengal with two consecutive centuries in the late 1950s. After a few seasons had a tiff with Bengal and went across to Rajasthan. After a few seasons had a tiff with Rajasthan and came back to Bengal! After a bottle of beer, he once exclaimed, “I am too tactless, too talkative, too straight for a Marwari. I think Bengal has spoilt me!”

He was a character, if ever there was one. On receiving the first pension cheque from the BCCI, he told me, “Raju, I went to my father’s portrait and showed him the cheque!”

“You really did?” I was aghast.

“Yes, why not? To me he is there looking at his maverick Prakash!” Lulu-da, that was a brilliant lesson to me. Brought back memories of Swami Vivekananda and the Maharaja of Khetri.

Thanks to you, my Lulu-da, I really enjoyed your fantastic company on and off the field. So much to learn from. So much to appreciate. And so much of originality…! May God keep blessing you.