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.