Raj Bhai: the one and only

Raj Singh had a distinguished presence. Left a distinct mark in whatever he said or did. Heads would turn and be riveted to observe or to listen to the man. As the scion of the royal family of Dungarpur, his was an appearance of grace and graciousness. Handsome of profile and dignified of bearing, he gave every impression of a charming person who was confident of his ability and aware of his responsibility.

I first saw him at Eden Gardens while he was leading the Central Zone team in the early 1960s. At the car park, after doing a namaste to an elderly woman he put his hands in his trouser pockets and brought out the notes and coins for the feeble, shivering hand that stretched more in despair than hope. As a 13-year old lad I had never seen anyone giving alms in such a generous and genteel manner.  Captivated I was. The gentleman captured my imagination.

His gentleness continued with the floating out-swingers he trundled in that Duleep Trophy tie. No, there was little by way of athleticism as the burly man jogged in to bowl. But he kept me amused with his regal disdain for the boundaries that resulted from his bowling. The batters seemed comfortable and happy. It appeared that Raj Singh was as happy to see the ball lose its shine! Within two or three overs, he tossed the ball to Salim Durani to replace him at the bowling crease!

Much, much later I came to know that Raj Singh was the benefactor of almost the full Central Zone team, the majority of whom resided and played cricket in Bombay. Raj Singh happened to be the patron-saint of eminent Indian cricketers over decades, which included Vinoo Mankad, Vijay Manjrekar, Rusi Surti and Salim Durani. He would have his heart and purse-strings open for all those who wished to give their cricket service to his State of Rajasthan.

Dungarpur might be a little speck on the desert land, but Raj Bhai had a heart as big and fertile as one could wish for. There was nothing small or vague about him. Every action of his reeked of fullness and purpose. He was all transparency and trust. Although he held prominent posts at BCCI, he never quite belonged to the petty jealousies and the back-stabbing ways that engulfed his colleagues. He was his own man; had a mind and voice of his own. Quick to take decisions, he relied on his strong personality to overcome all oppositions. Never bothered to have ‘friends’ in the media.

He was at the nucleus of various storms in Indian cricket. Sachin Tendulkar’s Test debut at 16. Omission of Mohinder Amarnath. Mohammed Azharuddin’s elevation to India captaincy. The Greg Chappell issue. All these and more he traversed in style and splendor. He spoke and acted from the heart. Used his head not for himself but for the nation’s cause. Totally free from meanness and prejudice, he was respected all over the country. None was able to refute or contradict him.

On various occasions I had the scope to meet him, generally at the Cricket Club of India (CCI) in Bombay. And also at his hotel-residence opposite the Lord’s cricket ground in London.  Treated me as his younger brother. We generally conversed on cricket of years passed. I would ask him numerous questions on world cricket and contemporary issues. But never would we discuss Indian cricket as he was in the heart of it. At Polly Umrigar’s chamber in the erstwhile BCCI office at the Churchgate end of CCI’s Brabourne Stadium, we spent moments discussing his favourite subject of monetary benefits for former Indian first-class players.

Once when I submitted an issue raised by the former cricketer PC Poddar, a very bright individual, about the neglect of eastern zone, Raj Bhai smiled, “Oh! No. Not PC. He is an eccentric fellow!” Ever the statesman, Polly Umrigar acknowledged PC’s proposal but settled the matter, “Raju, we cannot have different set of rules for different zones. It will only create new problems.”

Another occasion worth remembering was in London. In 2000 ,perhaps. At Oxford Street Selfridges someone patted me on the shoulder. Turned round to find Raj Bhai smiling! He introduced his companion Lata Mangeshkar to me and my wife. The two couples exchanged the usual courtesies and went on our own ways. Just goes to show the exquisite quality of a real gentleman. He could have ignored me. In fact I had not even noticed him. But the magnanimous man took the trouble to draw my attention and introduced us to a lady who obviously needed no formal intro.

Once I was having a quick lunch alone at CCI on my reciprocal membership. In walked Raj Singh with his guests numbering may be three. He stopped at my table and asked me to join his group. I excused myself, “Raj Bhai, please carry on. I have some urgent work to attend to.” Gave me his million-dollar smile and settled down to lunch with his guests. That’s the kind of host he was.

Another occasion was in the mid-1990s. With the Bengal State under-19 team I was stranded in Bombay on our way back to Calcutta from Poona. Approached Polly Umrigar to help with the accommodation for the 15 children and two adults. Polly Kaka telephoned Raj Bhai and our team of 17 heads was given complimentary accommodation at CCI without any delay. That was the kind of people they were. No ego. No unnecessary self-importance. Every player of that Bengal U-19 team remembers Raj Singh for his magnanimity.

My last recollection of Raj Bhai was again at CCI. I knew he was on his final days. He was staying at CCI with only a nurse in attendance. I gently knocked on the door and the attending lady-nurse peeped out and said, “Sorry. He should not be disturbed.” Asked her, “May I stand at the door and just have a look at him?” She relented and asked me to enter the room. As I neared the bed with my palms together in namaskar, instead of the baritone voice, a feeble sound “Raaajo,” emanated and evaporated into thin air. As I was leaving, the lady-nurse said, “Only word he has mumbled in the last two days! Hardly anybody comes to meet him these days.”

The final moments came within a few days. One of the ironies of life was being staged right in front of my eyes: people who have taken help are the first to vanish when one is unable to help any more. Certainly not always, but more often than not. Que sera, sera.

He wore many caps: first-class cricketer, State captain, national selector, expert commentator, India team manager, BCCI official, CCI president, patron and mentor of cricketers, etc. In every step he left behind indelible footprints with his selfless contribution.

 I am told he could be quite whimsical in his attitude. If one did not catch his fancy, I understand Raj Bhai would ignore the person. He would get upset with unreliable, concocted reporting and developed an antipathy towards the irresponsible media. He was close to the knowledgeable cricket writer Rajan Bala and would frequently get into serious discussions with the eminent journalist. I happened to be present at one such meet at the CCI in the 1990s.

If some thought of him as an eccentric man with out-dated ideas, I never found him to be so. He was remarkably liberal in his views, open to contemporary ideas and a willing listener. I found him to be extremely open-minded as he discussed facilities to cricketers including the pension scheme for former first-class players with Polly Umrigar.

The knowledgeable erstwhile prince of Dungarpur was full of earnestness, enthusiasm and enterprise. Never found him to be idiosyncratic, as some claimed him to be. On the contrary, the massive frame brimmed of integrity and initiative.

He lived his life to the full. Also let others live their lives to the full. Forever he stood straight and tall. The baritone voice said it all…

He was a treasure of Indian cricket.