Anglo-Indians in Hockey                                                                                        

When India decided to send her hockey team to the Amsterdam Olympic in 1928, Great Britain the defending champion withdrew their team! It seemed that Great Britain was afraid of their prized-colony beating the master at the latter’s own game.

Prior to 1928, twice the hockey event was held at the Olympic Games, first in 1908 at London and then at Antwerp in 1920. Both the times GB was the winner. It was indeed surprising to find the defending champion GB withdrawing at India’s participation. Was it a political defeat at the time of India’s nationalist movement? Strange are the ways of politicians around the world.

In 1928 at Amsterdam in Holland, debutant India won all her five matches by convincing margins. While Dhyan Chand and company were doing wonders up ahead, the citadel was in the safe custody of the Anglo-Indian community.

Apart from Dhyan Chand the core of the team were all from the highly versatile Anglo-Indian community. According to David Wallechinsky, the authority on Olympic history, out of 14 members there were no less than nine Anglo-Indians from Bengal, Punjab, Central Provinces and United Provinces in the gold-winning combination: Eric Penniger (deputy captain), Richard Allen, Michael Rocque, Leslie Hammond, William Cullen, Rex Norris, Maurice Gateley, George Marthins and Frederic Seaman.

The tough and talented team of diverse backgrounds showed the world what fortitude meant. Not even one goal was scored against India in five matches! Wizard Dhyan Chand’s men scored 29 goals.

The outstanding goalkeeper from Calcutta, young and fearless Richard Allen began the trend of attack from the goal-line itself. The strong, swarthy man was a stumbling block which no power in the world could penetrate.

Eric Penniger of Punjab was the link between the defence and the offence. He was a master in the area of distribution. Matured and a natural leader, Penninger wore the mantle of deputy-captain with dignity and pride. Central Provinces’ Rex Norris was the pivot in the mid-field. He was an outstanding play-maker with all-round skills. An excellent game-analyst, he was a born mentor of players.

Thankfully the India hockey team to Amsterdam in 1928 combined very well and began a tradition of unity in diversity. A lot of credit should go to the manager AB Rosser, an Anglo-Indian from Bengal who was firm yet friendly and totally unbiased. He stamped his authority in no uncertain manner and skipper, the highly-connected Jaipal Singh, had to leave the team during the course of the tournament.

In the following Olympic in 1932 at Los Angeles, there were eight Anglo-Indians in the Indian Olympic squad. Carlyle Tapsell, Frank Brewin, Richard Carr, William Sullivan and Arthur HInd joined the experienced Allen, Hammond and Penniger. The very knowledgeable, mid-field exponent Rex Norris was no longer around. Up ahead, Dhyan Chand’s younger brother, the brilliant Roop Singh was an automatic choice.

Again Dhyan Chad was not given the captaincy. The curse of ‘royalty to lead’ remained. Surprisingly Eric Penniger, who was the deputy captain at Amsterdam four years ago and was being thought of as the ideal person to lead the team, was eased out. An average player of influential background Lal Shah Bokhari arrived from UK and was asked to lead!

In his first Olympic in 1932, an Anglo-Indian from Calcutta Carlyle Tapsell gave the world a notice of his class and composure. He was simply superb in his defensive role. India let in just two goals at Los Angeles in 1932, while scoring 35 in 2 matches. The man guarding the goal happened to be the one and only Richard Allen. He exuded confidence and inspired his mates from his goal-line with constant encouragement.

At the Berlin Olympics in 1936 the candidature of Dhyan Chand as the captain could no longer be suppressed. In any case he was the undisputed leader of the team since 1928, but now he also became the formal captain. With Roop Singh around there was little reason to worry about the attack.

In defence, the presence of Tapsell once again gave one the reassurance of old. This time too there were eight Anglo-Indians serving India: Allen, Tapsell, Earnest Cullen, Joseph Phillip, Paul Fernandes, Lionel Emmett, Cyril Michie and Joseph Galibardy.

And of course guarding the citadel with pads on was the master, Richard Allen. Along with Dhyan Chand, Allen held a permanent place in the India Olympic teams from 1928 to 1936 (3 Olympics). Unfortunately the legendary Allen has not been remembered in India today. No one has the time and the inclination to worry about a sportsman who won 3 gold medals for India at the Olympics!

First heard about the grand performances of Allen and Tapsell from my father in the late 1950s. Later in 1967 from our school games-master at St Xavier's, James Brown, the former goalie with Calcutta’s BN Railway (now South Eastern Railway). He missed the India colours only because of the perennial presence of the great Shankar Laxman.

At a time when we in India are bending backwards trying to highlight the non-medalists as well as mere participants at Olympic Games, we have little interest in the exploits of men who brought glory to the nation in the Olympic Games in the past.

Apart from the immortal and legendary Leslie Claudius, no other Anglo-Indian hockey player has been shown an iota of the gratitude that he deserved. The exceptional Claudius – a product of post-independent India – with three gold and one silver medals in four Olympic Games is an all-time role model for any sportsman of any sports discipline. He was too important to be ignored.

But what about the rest from the Anglo-Indian community of the pre-independence era? Penniger, Hammond and Tapsell have won two gold medals each for India in two outings. Richard Allen improved on that to get three gold medals in three Games. Yet how many of our country’s youth have been told of their contribution to the national cause?

The Anglo-Indians played hockey not for money. Their progeny are not asking for financial assistance. Not even bothered about awards and recognition.

The Anglo-Indian community in India displayed superlative hockey skills and established India’s credentials as world champions.If we have any sense of gratitude, then it is our obligation to acknowledge their contribution. By honouring them today, we would merely be rectifying a wrong done and continued for so many decades.

Why can we not give them some kind of recognition in posterity? Why do we not rewrite our sports history by acknowledging that the Anglo-Indians helped to make India the world hockey champions? Who is stopping us from spilling out the truth? Why are we dishonest to our own selves? What have we gained by not heralding the glorious achievements of these champion athletes?

So low is our self-esteem that today we like to glorify sportsmen who are mired in controversies; we eulogize sportsmen who are lackeys of political parties and we love to honour those sportspeople who are close to the seats of power and influence.

This happens to be the sports culture of modern India. Shall we live to see a turnaround?

Pankaj Gupta with Nazi minister Goebbels at Berlin in 1936

Pankaj Gupta, the mercurial sports ambassador.                              

While there is a long tradition in India of doling out sports-team managership to sycophants and stooges, it is worth relating that  we actually possessed a manager who was rated very highly by no less a discerning persona than Sir Donald Bradman in his book Farewell to Cricket. Sir Don christened him ‘Peter’ out of respect for the man’s personality and prowess.

While in Australia with the India team in1947-48, Pankaj Gupta was at the peak of his eventful career as a sports administrator. When Sir Don was making mincemeat of the Indian bowling, the Aussie media became very critical of Bradman for his ruthlessness. But Gupta, the proud manager, would have none of it. He and his captain Lala Amarnath categorically stated that India had come to play Australia on equal terms and expected no condescending treatment.

Pankaj Gupta holds a unique place in India’s sports history. Thrice he went to the Olympics as a hockey-official but never as the prime manager! In 1932 he went to Los Angeles Olympics as the non-playing captain. In 1936 to Berlin as assistant manager. In the next Olympic at London in 1948 as 2^nd official. In all three Olympics India won the gold medal. If he was not a playing member, why was he sent at all? Why was he so desperately needed between 1932 and 1948?

There were many aspirants to the manager’s role. People who stayed in close proximity to the powers-that-be in expectation of favours. As is the typical Indian administrative system, these ‘favoured’ individuals were designated as ‘manager’ to keep the various member-State associations happy. Most managers did and still do go for a vacation and have fun.

But the IOA President, Maharaja of Patiala Yadavendra  Singh – pioneer and primary patron of Indian sport – well knew that India needed a man of Pankaj Gupta’s personality and knowledge to uphold the country’s self-respect and the team’s interest. Although Gupta was not ‘close’ to any of the influential royals, he was considered indispensable to India’s success. That is the kind of reputation he had.

As an official of the touring India hockey teams during their glory years in the 1930s and 1940s, Gupta was a father-figure to Dhyan Chand, Roop Singh, Allen, Tapsell, Jaffer, Claudius and company. He earned everyone’s – Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Sikhs and all others – respect for his transparency, generosity, complete lack of bias and no less for his knowledge of sports and sportsmen. He was a master in man-management. Supreme as a mentor he was, as the maestro Dhyan Chand always acknowledged.

Before 1947 India, played in the Olympics not as an independent nation, but as a British colony. Gupta motivated every player to consider himself a freedom-fighter battling for the cause of independent India. Dhyan Chand, no less, considered Pankaj Gupta to be his patron-saint.

Dhyan Chand’s bonding with Gupta went far beyond the confines of the hockey ground. He would seek blessings on Guru Purnima. Whenever Dhyan Chand came to play at Calcutta, he would stay at Gupta’s residence. So close was he that it is believed Gupta became the ‘ghost’ who assisted Dhyan Chand to pen his autobiography Goal.

Gupta could write and speak as the best. Courageous and forthright, the energetic man earned universal acclaim. His after-dinner speeches – a most essential formality of those grand old days – could be bold and witty; courteous and commanding. At technical committee meetings his was always a commanding presence. No Indian team was taken for granted when mercurial Peter Gupta was at the helm.

The highly respected sports journalist of yesteryears, Sunil Bose was Pankaj Gupta’s junior colleague at Amrita Bazar Patrika in Calcutta. Gupta was the sports editor for 20 years at a time when the newspaper was associated with India’s freedom struggle. Sunil Bose, himself a State-ranked badminton player, related an amazing incident involving Pankaj Gupta and Nazi Germany.

 In 1936 when the Indian hockey team was at Berlin for the Olympics, assistant manager Pankaj Gupta rushed onto the road and forced Joseph Goebbels, the German Propaganda Minister, to stop his motorcade! The Nazi guards were taken aback. Before they could react, Gupta calmly walked up to the minister, shook hands with him and wished him on behalf of India as the common enemy of Great Britain!

No situation daunted him. No personality overwhelmed him. He was a self-made man with a passion for sport. His oratory gave India a shining image. His diplomacy made India a treasured friend. His passion for sports left him with no time for politicking. And so after almost of two decades of rare excellence, he became a victim at the hands of people he had helped to establish.

Gupta, as the manager of the Indian cricket team to England in 1952, selected Vinoo Mankad, who was omitted by the national selectors from the touring squad, to play the 2^nd Test at Lord’s! Mankad went on to display one of the greatest-ever individual all-round performances in the history of cricket. The match came to be known as ‘Mankad’s Test’. This incident itself is a fascinating story to relate. Another time. Another day.

Without the intervention of the mercurial manager Pankaj Gupta, Vinoo Mankad – among the greatest all-rounders in the world – would not have played the Test and it is highly doubtful whether he would ever have played for India again.

This was Gupta at his best. Once convinced, he would anything for India’s prestige. He had no time for personal gain or for personal fame. No selfish motive ever clouded his judgement. His mission was to uphold India’s image high in the international sports arena. A role he played with great distinction both at hockey as well as at cricket. Not for no reason the selfless Maharaja of Patiala chose Pankaj Gupta to be with the Indian contingent, particularly hockey. The magnificent administrator Patiala knew his man.

I saw Pankaj Gupta just once, in 1969. He was the chief guest at a function organized by Mohun Bagan Athletic Club to honour the players from its various disciplines for winning all the local trophies. Pankaj Gupta spoke for hardly five minutes. He lambasted the club officials for organizing such lavish functions instead of utilizing the money to provide more facilities to junior players. Even as a teenager, I could feel the integrity and the commitment inherent in him. 

Surprisingly for an Indian sports administrator, he was far, far above provincial or communal bias. He had no time for ‘favourites’. Media people with shallow ideas and statistical obsession often misunderstood him. But little did he care. None ever dared to confront him. No time he had for the influential. Nor would he suffer fools. He carved a distinct niche for himself.

While he earned wide respect from all his players, in India many influential sports administrators despised him but none found the courage to confront him. He became very popular among the sportspeople in India for his brave and unbiased approach. The Indian sports media however never gave him his rightful due.

Once a sports journalist asked him about the omission of a certain player from some matches at the London Olympics in1948. Point-blank Pankaj Gupta raised his eye-brows, “Which team won the hockey gold in London? India? Then I do not care who played and who did not play. Never believed in favouritism or individualism. For me India first, India last, India in-between. Full stop.”

Tapan Ghosh of Ananda Bazar Patrika, a man who probably pioneered investigative sports journalism in India, met Pankaj Gupta several times at the latter’s Park Circus residence in Calcutta. Ghosh always maintained, “He was by far the best sports administrator we have ever had. Had a distinctive style and an excellent command of the English language. Amazing knowledge of sports history and the laws, particularly of hockey and cricket. Till the very end, he sported the famous Hitler-moustache and carried an ornamental walking stick.”

Indian Hockey Federation and Indian Football Association were both established at Calcutta in the 1920s. The chief architect happened to be the stocky man from Chittagong (now in Bangladesh). Then in his twenties, the young man’s exceptional administrative prowess was not lost on the Maharaja of Patiala, Bhupendra Singh, whose visionary spirit and awesome patronage paved the way for the development of India’s sport in the early days. Bhupendra’s son Yadavendra too followed in his father’s foot-steps regarding Gupta of Bengal.

Pankaj Gupta was the founder member of the National Cricket Club, which happened to be the custodian of Eden Gardens before CAB took over in the 1950s. Pankaj Gupta expired in 1971 after a glorious lifetime in the service of sport, particularly hockey and cricket.

CAB named the new indoor cricket facility at Eden Gardens after him. At its inauguration in 1979, as the current captain of the Bengal State team, I acknowledged that it was an honour to speak on Pankaj Gupta’s contribution to sport and described him as a sports ambassador nonpareil.

Although the Government of India could not find any award for him, ironically the British Government awarded him a MBE (Member of the British Empire) for his services to sports administration in 1944.

He was the perfect embodiment of a sports ambassador. Totally undaunted and forever free, all along Pankaj Gupta remained a singular man with a singular purpose: to uphold India’s prestige and image in the international sports arenas. Nihil Ultra.

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 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 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 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 is 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 hands folded, 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 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 pension 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.

Tribute to Goel Bhai

Even in death, Rajinder Goel has 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.

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 when Bedi was dropped on ‘disciplinary’ grounds, Goel was shelved in favour of Narasimha Rao, a leg-spinning all-rounder, and Dhiraj Parsana.

Later in 1979 when Bedi was finally omitted, Goel was still at the top of his bowling form. But he was overlooked as Dilip Doshi came in. 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 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. While walking back, I heard him say, “Raju, wish you got the single.” Knowing him, I know he meant it.

His son Nitin, a former Ranji Trophy cricketer, is a young man I admire for his abilities and bearing. Here is a sincere person who has been doing wonderful work as a BCCI match referee. I am hopeful that conscientious Nitin would soon be considered for higher honours.

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, 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.

Obituary of Vasant Raiji

Vasant Raiji is no more with us. The great soul has gone but his writings will remain forever.  He has been a genuine historian of Indian cricket. Concentrating on knowledge and integrity, Vasantji did not need any external support of degrees and ornamentation. Not shackled to any media group or to any sponsor, the qualified chartered accountant charted an independent path of sincere research and freedom of expression. He did not need to impress or to decry any individual or institution.

He was a hero to me for his meticulous work on Indian cricket. His authoritative book ‘India’s Hambledon Men’ is certainly the finest of his various publications. He preferred the company of serious cricket writers and in his final years found in Makarand Waingankar an ideal person to interact with.

Although cricketers are notoriously weak in cricket history, Vasantji happened to be a glorious exception. Following his prominence as a first-class cricket, he developed himself to be among the prominent cricket historians in our country. His research on Indian cricket is at a different level to others.

He was denied recognition in his own land. At a time when copyists are reaping awesome benefits, the treatment meted out to him remains a matter of shame. His life of over 100 years has been full of education and enterprise. Vasantji’s work will gain importance as the years go by.

I believe he was a fantastic conversationalist. For a man of his wide spectrum of knowledge he surely must have been. How I wish I was able to establish contact with him during my frequent visits to Mumbai. But destiny willed otherwise. The person I respected the most among cricket historians is the person whom I failed to reach. A regret that will only increase with time.

Vasant Raiji was a contemporary of Vijay Merchant. He was an excellent batsman, good enough to represent Bombay and Baroda in the Ranji Trophy championships in the 1940s. Although he could not make the final XI of the Hindu team in the Pentangular, he was capable enough to be considered in the reserves squad.

He was very highly regarded by men of the prominence of DB Deodhar, Vijay Hazare, Polly Umrigar and Raj Singh, among others. His authorship was based on exemplary research and independent analysis. He was very mucha man of the world, yet not quite in it. He enjoyed companionship but hated flattery.

The best compliments would be offered to him by the copyists who would publish from his ‘works’ without acknowledging the man. He would best be remembered by his writings which will be copied and recopied by various sources without giving the person any credit. He will forever loom in the background of every author who tries to write on India’s early cricket history.

Raju MUkherji

Photo credit: Dr Jayanta Sen

Balaramda: my role model

I met my hero just once. That too just recently. The opportunity came when Dr Jayanta Sen offered to take me along with PC Poddar and Sukumar Samajpati to Balaramda’s place at Uttarpara. He received us at the door with a heart-warming smile but just would not allow me to touch his feet to do pranam. Embraced and said, “No, no, Please don’t.” I managed to reply, “Sir, but I have a request you cannot refuse.”

The smile remained as he raised his furrowed eyebrows, “Yes. What is it?” Now it was my turn to flash a smile, “I shall not touch your feet as you wish, but you have to put your hand on my head!” The soft laughter of a saint emerged – a replica of Ramakrishna, no less – the embrace tightened and his right palm touched the tip of my head. A shiver went down my spine. I am indeed a lucky man to have had the affection and blessing of this great man.

Tulsidas Balaram’s career has a unique colour to it. His international life as a football player lasted 6 years from 1956 to 1962. During that period Indian football was at its zenith: 4th in Melbourne Olympics to gold medal at Jakarta Asian Games. Very few Indian sportsmen have had such an influential role in the prospect of India’s sports performance. Unique indeed: whenever he played, India did well.

The ebony, sinuous frame swerved to the right, ‘dummied’ a robust tackler and from an acute angle a deft placement saw the leather sphere balloon the net. That was a typical movement of the sinewy elegance of Balaram. He was to repeat this magic for India time and again during the heady days of Indian football, 1956 to 1962.

He was the hero of all the East Bengal supporters at our school. Even the Bagan followers grudgingly admitted his worth with Subroto Sirkar claiming that he would have been still better with the maroon and green jersey on! Little did we youngsters realize that he belonged not to any narrow allegiance of club or State, he was the treasure of the nation. Everyone not only admired his genius, they loved the person he happened to be.

He arrived on the scene when Indian football was going through a period of total change. The legacy of playing in bare feet was abolished for good. The reason for this sudden transformation in Indian football scenario came about because of the ‘hell-in-Helsinki’ treatment in the 1952 Olympic. The much-vaunted bare-footed Indians were caught on slushy turf and went through the torture of losing by 10 goals to 1.

Balaram emerged from an obscure village in rural Andhra. The mild-mannered inside forward mesmerized all and sundry in the neighbourhood with his soccer talents. As destiny beckoned, he was soon in the presence of an exceptional football coach, Syed Rahim, in the Nizam’s capital city of Hyderabad.

Balaram had no time for unnecessary theories. He was a man of the soil who concentrated on activity rather than words. Balaram knew not what positive attitude meant because he was full of positivity. He knew not that he was someone special because he himself possessed extraordinary skills. He could do amazing tricks with the ball with ease. He could toy around with the ball not only with his feet but with his head and body as well.

 Remarkable control he possessed with the ball as well as in life-style. When he found others floundering, he did not get upset or irritated. He merely carried their responsibility voluntarily. He did not ever think that it was a burden on him. He was the game-maker as well as the goal-scorer. With ease the man could carry a weak team not only on his shoulders but with a warm heart as well.

Was he India’s first ‘total footballer’? Most certainly, he was, as almost every coach had asked him to do multiple roles. Every coach understood his innate all-round ability; every player saluted his approach and temperament; every genuine football fan was attracted to his appeal. He earned universal respect.

‘Total football’ was made popular internationally by the Dutch and Johann Cryuff in the 1970s, but there was man in India who was doing so in the 1950s. Little did the media or the administrators realize that what he was doing was something unique. He was destined to be behind the curtain forever. Our greatest ‘complete’ player never received his due recognition.

Nor did the Government of India, for that matter, acknowledge his real worth. They gave him the Arjuna award but conveniently forgot to confer on him the Padma awards. The chief reason was that he had no one to canvass and plead for him. May be it was appropriate when we found players far inferior to him were getting those awards. No, no, he did not belong to that low a category.

 Even the club for which the highly-sensitive man devoted the prime years of his football life did not quite live up to our expectations. Later they tried to make amends. But by then it was sadly too late.

During the course of the conversation as the great man got up to make the tea himself and serve us sandwiches, pastries and patties, Samajda commented, ‘Balada, if you had got married, Boudi would have done this job and we could have had more time with you.” Balada replied, “Very true, Samaj. But try my tea today.” I developed some courage to say, “Balaramda, I feel that even if Boudi was around, you would have made the tea for us yourself.” An unaffected, relaxed answer evolved, “Perhaps. Never thought on those lines.”

Born in a rural environment among orthodox Hindus, he became a devout disciple of Syed Abdul Rahim. He played a body-contact sport like football without ever appearing to push or shove anyone. The rough and tumble of football did not quite bother the fleet-footed genius. He was the trademark symbol of the ‘beautiful game’, which we all love and admire.  

He was a goal-scoring forward yet he would be seen roving all over the arena to collect and assist. His twinkling feet sent opponents the wrong way yet he would be seen to distribute unselfishly to his colleagues. On either side of the attack he would be devastating yet he would sacrifice his favourite inside-left position for others to prosper.

Coach Rahim utilized Balaram not at his favourite left-inside position because Chuni Goswami preferred to be at left-in. Balaram was equally devastating at right-in, where he developed a fabulous combination with PK Banerjee at right wing. No Indian team has had such great forwards playing together. They complemented just as they contrasted each other.

When he went to Melbourne for the Olympic Games in 1956 it was the first time he was leaving the shores of India. Was he nervous: straight from rural India to jet-set Australia? He remembers, “We had no time to think of anything but football. Rahim Saab told us that we were going to war and that on us depended the honour of our country. Our team was prepared to die for India.” India won the match 4-2 against host Australia.

What happened after the match? “None seemed too overjoyed. We had gone to win and we won. Rahim Saab gave a rare smile and said it seemed that we had the national flag on our chest! Great tonic for all of us. Centre-forward Neville D’Souza scored a superb hat-trick.”

Everybody agrees that you and PK were magnificent at the Melbourne Olympic and created innumerable openings. Again there was just the suggestion of a smile, “PK and I just did our job and received terrific support from every other player.”

That is Tulsidas Balaram for you and me. Simple and straight forward: he was not trying to be modest. He was just himself. Not a word out of place; no exhibitionism; no exaggeration. After his stupendous performance at Melbourne in 1956 of all the Calcutta clubs, it was Jyotish Guha’s East Bengal representatives who first went to his native village to sign him in.

But Balaram was not at all keen to leave his parents and village to settle down in a major city and so he politely declined the offer. This was by itself a distinct departure from the usual norm. Those days no football player would refuse the offer of the Calcutta clubs because they were the only ones who would pay the players handsomely.

As the East Bengal recruiters departed, Mohammedan Sporting officials pounced on him. Now Balaram’s mother had to intervene! She impressed upon her son the need to go and play for a ‘big’ club in the busy metropolis of Calcutta. As some of Balaram’s mates played for Mohammedan Sporting, he too opted to play for the club as well. But his football friends of Mohammedan Sporting told him that he would fit in much better at East Bengal because of his diet and life-style.

 Balaram on his own came to Calcutta with his Mohammedan Sporting friends and went to meet Jyotish Guha at his residence! This approach itself must be unique in the context of Indian sport. Jyotish Guha, known for his extremely stern manner, said, “The offer is no longer on.” Balaram pleaded, “Sir, Please give me just one more chance. I will never let you down.”

“How much do you want?” Guha raised his eyebrows.  

“Sir, I need only accommodation and food. Nothing else. Please consider my request.” Guha’s stern exterior softened, “Well, I shall decide on the payment later. Take your bag and go to our club mess.” Later Jyotish Guha told a fellow administrator, “One day this boy will revolutionize football in our country with his skills and manners.”

At the Rome Olympic in 1960 India played fabulous football, especially against the top teams like France and Hungary. The results 1-1 and 1-2 respectively hardly reflected the real picture, as the famous cricket writer Nevile Cardus had once observed ‘…the score-board is an ass.’ The Indians, under coach Rahim and captain PK, played delightful, inspired football. Balaram was at his devastating best.

Foreign critics were amazed to find the pride of world football – France and Hungary – being dazzled by the footwork of a group of spirited non-entities from south Asia. They went raptures over Balaram, PK and Chuni. Ultimately it was the lack of international experience and exposure that stopped India in the group league stage. One minor mistake of a well-known defender cost India the vital point but Balaramda differed, “No, no one player was responsible. We played together. We lost together.”

So typical of this selfless genius. We thought champions had massive egos. How wrong we were. Or, was he a rare exception? He did not have a selfish bone in his body. The lanky man of soft features hardly looked like a soccer player. He never possessed a robust physique. His manner was all charm. He gave the distinct impression of being a poet far away from the humdrum world of reality.

Sukumar Samajpati – outstanding player, superb musician and corporate-topper – said, “Just by watching Balada we learnt so much about football, about life. He would not force you to do anything. He would do wonderful things with his feet, body, head and mind. He made everything look so simple. We wanted to copy him, only to realize how difficult those were.” Only an outstanding person like Sukumarda can elaborate so modestly and candidly.

Balaram’s mother wanted him to get married in 1963. Balaram promised he would marry but only after the 1964 Olympic Games at Tokyo. In between he would spend hours at the maidan honing his undoubted skills. Suddenly one day, a mild cough developed into dreaded pleurisy. Balaram’s energy ebbed. He could hardly move. Those magical feet began to totter. He knew now Tokyo was an impossible dream.

His mother insisted that this was the right time to get married. But Balaramda being Balaramda simply said, “No, Ma, I cannot. I do not want to offer a patient to my wife!” He remained a bachelor and most surely a philosopher to be marvelled at.

Complimenting every contemporary came naturally to him. He could only see their strengths. When coaxed about Chuni and Peekay, he closed his eyes and reflected, “We three had distinctive styles. We enjoyed beautiful understanding. We complemented each other. They were exceptional. But please do not forget Arun, Jarnail, Yusuf Khan, Ram Bahadur, Kempiah, Thangaraj, Samaj. Each was magnificent as a player.”

Once my friend Ajoy Ghosh – abroad for more than 50 years – observed, “Raju, once East Bengal, always East Bengal. Balaram was, is and always will be my ‘guru’.” What affection, what reverence for a person even after 5 decades.

Calcuttans loved him. He reciprocated wholeheartedly. Today Ma Kali has literally brought him close to Her. Opposite the Dakshineshwar temple on the other side of the River Hooghly is the residence of my retired hermit, Balaramda. A saint in every sense of the word. A man of the world yet not quite in it. What a soul we have with us on earth. A champion on and off the field. He was born to be an inspiration to future generations.

Chandra, my Chandra…

 In this platinum jubilee birth anniversary of India’s greatest-ever match-winner, a tribute to our all-time favourite Chandrasekhar.

He was someone special. Rare vintage. Unique of flavor; extraordinary of essence. Never in the long history of cricket have we come across a player with such unusual characteristics as Chandrasekhar’s.

Bhagawat Subramanya Chandrasekhar came into the cricket scenario to show polite contempt for all the established norms. He rattled the conventional theories. He abhorred orthodoxy. But he was not rude in his manner. On the contrary, he kept smiling his way into the hearts of cricket lovers as one orthodox view after another collapsed.

Within three months of making his first-class debut for Karnataka, he was selected to play against England at Mumbai in 1963-64. Critics, including former Test cricketers, who had sniggered that his non-rhythmic  run-up would tire him out early, fled from the ground as he bowled 40 overs for just 67 runs! In between, however, he confounded the ‘technically correct’ English batters with four wickets.

Experts, who claimed he bowled too quick to gain sufficient spin, gasped as he spun a web around Bob Simpson’s Australia in 1965, throttling them to submission at Mumbai with 4 for 50 and 4 for 73.

The cynics were still not convinced. Again they had to make a hasty retreat as he tormented West Indies at Mumbai in 1967 with 11 wickets in the match. Among his victims were batsmen of the caliber of Conrad Hunte, Rohan Kanhai, Garfield Sobers and Clive Lloyd.

Now how would you describe a man who did everything that was not written in the text book and still emerged a champion? Yes, he had too long a run-up for a spinner. Yes, he ran in too quickly for a genuine turner. His action was ungainly. But then he was no believer in conventional theories or orthodox methods.

He was a free bird; not a caged pet.  His spirit soared to the skies. He was all spontaneity. Years ago before a Duleep Trophy tie at Chennai in 1973, I stood behind the south zone practice net trying to decipher his spin from his highly deceptive action. Gopal  Bose whispered, “Raju, play him as an off-spinner. If the ball turns from the leg, even Sir Don would be beaten!”  Absolutely to the point Gopal was. What a tribute to a great bowler.

My elder brother Deb, former Bengal batsman, who had got runs against Chandra in an university match on matting wicket always suggested, “Play him as a medium pacer who brought the ball in. In that way one would be prepared for the pace and the extra bounce that he generated.”

Yes, that’s it. It was the bounce that was astounding. No spinner could match him as his whiplash action would give nightmares to batters and force them to succumb.

But the arm-chair critics, even prominent former cricketers, were far from convinced. They were on the lookout for his failures abroad. Unfortunately for these so-called experts, that never occurred. On his first visit to England in 1967, on a dismal tour by Pataudi’s Indians, he took 16 wickets in only 3 Tests.

Then again in UK in 1971 under Ajit Wadekar, he had 13 victims in 3 Tests with 8 wickets at the Oval to help India win her first Test and series on English soil. Chandra’s magical spell in the 2^nd innings at the Oval, after England had taken a lead of 71 runs, had the England batters mesmerized. No such blitz had England encountered since Hitler’s aerial attacks.

From his first tour of Australia in 1968, Chandra returned with an injury. Went back with Bedi’s Indians in 1979 and gave India two victories with 12 and 8 wickets respectively at Melbourne and Sydney.

To West Indies he went just once. That was good enough to fetch India a historic win at Trinidad in 1976 where with 6 and 2 wickets in the match he surprised the might of Viv Richards, Alvin Kalicharran, Lawrence Rowe and Clive Lloyd. He ended the series with 21 victims in just 4 Tests.

He served India like a real champion. Between 1963 and 1979 he played 58 Tests claiming 242 wickets at 29.74. His victims would make a superlative World XI of prominent batsmen.

 He had no fancy for any particular captain. He was as comfortable with Pataudi and Bedi as he was with Wadekar. He received excellent support from his close-in fielders which included Solkar, Abid Ali, Ajit Wadekar and Vankataraghavan. Not that he desperately needed them for he was as successful with Karnataka without any of these world-class catchers for support. He worked in tandem with all his famous contemporaries Bishen Bedi, Erapalli Prasanna  and Srinivas Venkataraghavan without any particular fancy.

Very early in life an attack of polio severely affected his stronger arm, the right arm. Never was he able to use his right arm for throw-ins from the deep. Not to be outdone by such a grave handicap, he began to throw with his left arm. Such was his determination that the weaker left arm developed adequate strength and control and he actually used it for flat throw-ins from the boundary! I doubt if any fielder anywhere in the world has ever thrown accurately from the deep with the weaker arm. Really extraordinary. Even the best of fielders have not been able to do what Chandra achieved.

Chandra defies description. The sheer unpredictability of the man made him an unique sportsman. He not only detested batters, it seemed he also detested batting!  A whole lot of zeros against his name on the score-card is sufficient proof of this. But once at Eden, to humour us with his unpredictability, he added 50 runs with Bapu Nadkarni in 1963.

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

Every time he turned his arm there was a hushed silence on the stands. An aura of suspended suspense. Perpetually on the attack he was. Once in 1974 at Eden Gardens he brought a phenomenal victory to India against Lloyd’s team from the jaws of imminent defeat. Thanks to Tiger Pataudi’s faith in him, Chandra was man inspired that morning as he scythed through the extremely strong batting line-up.

Though his figures are extraordinary, there is always a fear that his real capability might be submerged by mere statistics. He was all magic. No opposition ever had any rest from him. His tentacles were always around their necks.

 Once as the non-striker I thought I heard a humming sound from the bowler Chandra. Asked the umpire for confirmation. Piloo Reporter smiled, “Did you not know that Chandra hums Mukesh tunes as he moves in to bowl!”  Here too he was an original; someone special. Ever heard of a match-winner humming tunes while bowling?

No other India has given us as many Test victories as Chandra has. Out of 58 Tests he had a major contribution in no less than 14 Tests. Never before or after has there been a match-winner like our silent-assassin Chandra, everyone’s perpetual favourite.