Arati  Saha: who’s she?

At a time when Indian sportswomen are doing wonders around the world, we seem to have forgotten the woman who pioneered the movement.

 The youngest Indian to take part in the Olympic Games was Arati Saha. At just 11 and half, she was a part of the Indian swimming squad at the Helsinki Olympics in 1952. The first Indian woman sportsperson to make international headlines was this young girl long-distance swimmer from Bengal, Arati Saha.

Unfortunately the name does not ring a bell any more. Such is the sports culture in our country that our real champions are forgotten overnight.

At 11 she was an Olympian. She beat all the favourites to be in the Indian swimming team for the 1952 Helsinki Olympic Games. For a young girl yet to reach her teens, to be an Olympian as well as to keep winning gold medals in domestic senior national championships still remain unique feats. Amazing, indeed. But more amazing is that we in India have forgotten her and heroic achievements.

At the 1952 Helsinki Olympic Games although the 11 plus year-old did not win any medal – she was not expected to – in the Olympic village she created a flutter with her natural exuberance and graceful demeanour. Swimming coaches of the other nations predicted a great future for her provided she got the best of training and facilities. Most unfortunately at the time here in India even the very basic facilities were lacking and social inhibitions were heavily loaded against women participants.

The lissome, graceful lady was the cynosure of all eyes in the 1950s. She created waves in the male-dominated Indian sports scenario as she splashed her way to become the first woman from Asia to swim the English Channel in 1959.

Born in 1940, at the age of 5 the child prodigy kept winning medals in various swimming championships in her home state of West Bengal. By 11 she had won numerous events in the senior level national championships with ease.

 Arati Saha was fortunate that her parents, especially her paternal uncle popularly known as Saha-kaka, encouraged her to utilize the swimming pool of Matt-khola Club near their north Calcutta residence. The coach Sachin Nag realized that he was handling a prodigy and thankfully did not try to change her style and approach. Nag and Saha accompanied the young swimmer to the River Hooghly every week for serious swimming practice from the age of 5!

Arati did not disappoint. By 11 she was the national senior champion and an Olympic athlete. While growing up she had heard of the reports of Mihir Sen’s early attempts to conquer the English Channel. But Mihir Sen was away in England. Instead her role model was Brojen Das, certainly among the best long-distance swimmers in the world.

Brojen Das (1927-1997) was from the Bikrampur district of Dhaka. Dhaka at the time was a major city of ‘undivided’ Bengal in pre-independent India. But after independence in 1947 and the dreadful partition of the sub-continent, Das’ family stayed on and thus he became a citizen of Pakistan. Although Das’ family did not cross the border to settle in India, Brojen Das planned to cross the English Channel. The strongly-built swimmer from Dhaka crossed the English Channel in his first attempt in August 1958 in the second position and became the first from Asia to achieve the feat. His timing was a record for a first-timer.

Brojen Das between 1958 and 1961 crossed the English Channel six times. Appropriately enough he became very popular in the sub-continent. Young Arati too was highly captivated by the daring exploits of Brojen Das and Mihir Sen as well as the wide publicity given to English Channel conquerors.

Young Arati after consulting with her guru decided that she too would make an attempt. With Brojen Das (31) crossing the Channel in August 1958 and Mihir Sen (27) a month later in September 1958, the 19 year-old Arati Saha decided that she would wait no longer!

In 1959 at the young age of 19 before setting off for UK to attempt to cross the English Channel, Arati married Dr Arun Gupta, who also accompanied her as the manager.

In UK she had a strange experience. Arati’s route was from Calais in France to Dover in England. After swimming for about 6 hours she suddenly came face to face with turbulent weather and huge waves. Instead of trying to combat the challenge, very sensibly she decided to just float to conserve energy. Unfortunately one of the organizers thought that she needed help and inadvertently touched her. This kind of assistance was against the rules and so she was disqualified.

Extremely disappointed, young Arati was heart-broken and wanted to return to India. Thankfully she received a message from her dad saying, “My personal sorrow I can overcome. But how do I overcome your sorrow? Please try once again.” This motivated her and with her manager-husband’s encouragement she made another attempt within a few days.

This time she overcame each and every challenge that the English Channel could throw at her: biting cold temperature, varying currents, sea creatures and high waves.

When she reached the coast in 16 hours and 15 minutes she became the first lady swimmer from Asia to achieve the feat. It was without an iota of doubt a unique feat for an Asian. Commendable more so because till then only 5 other women-swimmers had achieved the feat.

Messages flowed in from around the world including the Indian prime minister. This was followed by the Padma Shri award on her return. She was the first sportswoman to receive the prestigious award. In 1970 her knowledge of the sport and her work for youngsters was acknowledged by being included in the All India Council of Sports.

She died at a nursing home in Calcutta at just 54 in 1994 after a long illness. Neither the media nor the government showed any interest. Even the swimming fraternity seemed to have forgotten their own genuine champion. Graceful till the very end, she still remains a forgotten soul in her own homeland.

My only interaction with Arati Saha was in the 1980s. Before I could introduce myself, she said, “I read your articles in ABP. I like your style.” She allowed me to touch her feet and asked me, “How do you know me? You must be much younger and could not have seen me in my active days.” I replied, “I am just 10 years younger to you, didi. But I have seen your photographs in the Sport & Pastime magazine of the 1960s which I still possess.”

She smiled and willingly answered my queries. She said that she was fortunate to have had very understanding parents, coach and husband. She added that she had very little time for friends, apart from her swimming colleagues, “Honestly, where was the time for friends and gossip? Studies and swimming took away all my time. I enjoyed both. I wish I had more nutritious diet in my early years. This is a big problem with our talented young swimmers even now. They come from poor families who can hardly afford proper food. As a sports council member we tried our best to rectify this malaise. But still a lot more has to be done.”

It was amazing that she did not want to say anything about her unique achievement or about herself. She was totally submerged into the swimming world of young talents.

I asked her a very pertinent question. She was very candid in response, “Yes, not many girls swam in my time. Primarily because of the inhibitions about swim-wear. But fortunately the people who came to watch us at practice or in competitions were very decent. No awkward remarks I have ever heard. Actually our coaches and officials had created a very congenial atmosphere. We had great fun. I really enjoyed swimming wherever it was.”

About her early life, again she was very frank and forthright, “Actually the problem was the mind-set of our society. No one thought that we women could actually play and win honours. Even our esteemed chief minister Dr Bidhan Chandra Roy discouraged me from going to UK to swim across the English Channel when I went to meet him for sponsorship. He said, ‘What is wrong with you? Swimming the English Channel is a man’s job. You go home and raise a family.’ I told him loud and clear, ‘Yes, of course, I shall go home and raise a family. But before that I shall cross the English Channel just prove many people wrong.’

“It seemed he liked my spirit and gave me my plane fare. Then he was nice enough to call up some local industrialists to help financially. But they all had the same male chauvinistic ideas. They hardly gave anything.

“Actually I borrowed money by leaving behind the little jewellery that I had. Thankfully my manager-husband was a doctor and we could make ends meet. But numerous Indian female sports talents were lost because of our silly ideas about the role of women. Let me tell you, today, that the moment we allow girls to play, the Indian girls will start winning international sporting honours.”

Her immaculate prophecy was proved absolutely correct in the last four decades when women sportspersons began to get facilities to hone their skills. Now we have world champions in various sports disciplines. Arati Saha was the pioneer champion as well as the pioneer activist among Indian sportswomen. Yet we have forgotten her and her yeoman contribution.

I mentioned the name of Brojen Das to her, “The great swimmer had come to our house in 1958 just after crossing the English Channel. He was my maternal uncle Sishir Chatterje’s school-mate in Dhaka in the 1930s.” Her eyes lit up, “You know I hero-worshipped Brojen Das. He was the first Asian to cross the English Channel. His achievement motivated me to make the attempt. Although he was from the neighbouring country, I always thought of him as an Indian because he was a Bengalee!  Am I not right?” She furrowed her eye-brows. I could only smile and nod.

When I coaxed her to relate any unusual experience of her English Channel swim, thankfully she opened up, “Abroad most of the foreigners were very supportive. They guided me in many ways regarding Channel swimming about which I had no idea. They took great care even about little details. I learnt a lot from their positive approach. However one person appeared distinctly discouraging. He said, ‘No coloured lady swimmer has conquered the English Channel.’ Immediately I softly told him, ‘Do not worry about my skin colour. Look at the tri-colour of my nation’s flag. That will flutter. It did.’ Later as the congratulations poured in, he was extremely gracious to come and apologize.”

To appreciate her genius we have to go deep into the social mores and morality of the 1950s. In India at the time hardly any woman was allowed to play. As youngsters some lucky girls would get a few opportunities, perhaps in some schools. Missionary schools advocated sports among their young girl students. But how many Indian girls went to these schools which offered sports facilities to girls? At the time the liberal approach of the Anglo-Indians and the Parsees enabled girls of their communities to play and participate in competitions. Other communities hardly encouraged any sports among women, young or old.

 In this environment to gain international honours in sports was surely no joke for an Indian teenage girl coming from a very orthodox background. When Arati Saha crossed the English Channel at the age of 19 in 1959 she was only the 5^th woman in the world to have done so. Exemplary achievement on all counts.

Yet she remains an ignored figure in India’s sports history. May be in some footnote her remarkable international honour would be casually mentioned. This is India’s real sports culture. We have little respect for our genuine sports heroes and heroines.

Arati Gupta (nee Saha) was a born-rebel. The pioneer sportswoman whose daring brought about a huge transformation in Indian sports ethos.

 

 

 

MS Dhoni: Champion of Champions

With not a single godfather for support, the magnificent man went on lead India to victory in all three formats of world cricket championships. Dhoni’s emergence is a unique tale in Indian cricket: non-influential cricketing State of Bihar; no previous experience of cricket leadership; no help from his own zone; and, most importantly, without a single godfather and media support.

 Despite every possible odd stacked against him, the man became a legendary figure all over the nation. How he managed to survive and went on to achieve phenomenal success is anybody’s guess. His popularity would put film stars and politicians to shame.

The start of the Dhoni story, however, has some extraordinary twists and turns.

In 2004 the BCCI began a system by which young talented cricketers around the country would be identified by talent scouts. Former Bengal first-class cricketers Prakash Poddar and I travelled to Jamshedpur to watch the east zone players in action in the one-day senior inter-state championship in January 2004.

At the end of the first day’s match, after returning from different grounds we met at the dining table. While discussing cricket, Prakashda said, “Raju, today I saw a man hitting the ball with awesome power. Never before have I seen anybody striking the ball so hard. But he is an average wicket-keeper. Since BCCI is looking around for wicket-keepers, I am not recommending his name.” Coming from a man of Poddar’s deep knowledge and wide experience, I was extremely keen to have a good look at the man’s batting potential.

Next morning, as I alighted from the taxi near the Keenan Stadium pavilion gate, I found a motor-cycle screech to a halt a few metres away. A well-built, muscular lad in his mid-20s with long hair, wearing a tight sleeve-less tee-shirt and denims parked his vehicle. Instantly two pariah dogs came towards him and he brought out some biscuits from his pocket to feed them. The speeding bike, the long flowing hair style, the bulging biceps all mitigated against the sensitive care that he took to show his affection for the road-side canines. One could make out those biscuits were brought for the dogs! I was bowled over by the young man’s sensitive nature.

When I asked the Bihar coach if he was the opener who hit the ball very hard, the coach replied, “Yes, this boy from Ranchi is an exceptionally hard hitter. He is playing first-class cricket for about 4 years. No selector has ever taken any notice of him. Even the India captain has seen him playing for Bihar. Why are you so keen to know about him?” By the end of the day, when he had scored just about 30 odd, I realized that I had seen an uncut diamond.

That evening I told Poddar that I had already recommended the name of MS Dhoni to BCCI. Poddar, after some hesitation, agreed that he also should. We decided to send our report to BCCI specially mentioning the exceptional power of the young man’s strokes. As it transpired, the responsible people at the BCCI took serious note of the report of the two talent scouts – after some frantic phone-calls from my end – and the career graph of a young talent from a neglected, non-influential corner of India took an upward curve.

Within months he was playing for India ‘A’ in East Africa. By the end of the very year – 2004 – MS Dhoni was playing for India and had done enough to cement his place. Other wicket-keepers, who hailed from favoured provinces and were being played in the national team by turns and on whims, were now vying for the reserve stumper’s post. A new star had risen on the horizon.

Dhoni’s career graph is a unique case in Indian cricket. Hailing from a family of modest financial background, he had little option but to accept whatever job came his way. The Indian Railways gave him a job based at Kharagpur. But, true to tradition, the Railway selectors decided that a man from the eastern region would not be good enough for the all-India Railways cricket team!

Since Dhoni was based at Kharagpur, which happens to be in West Bengal, he was qualified to represent Bengal in national championships. Where were the Bengal selectors – all former test and first-class cricketers – at the time? Their job was to select the best of talent residing in Bengal. Were they doing their job honestly? I have very strong reservations. Where were the national selectors, especially the east zone representative, who were supposed to act without bias and worse? Were they under some external corrupt influence? Nor did the India captain, hailing from the same zone in Ranji Trophy, had thought of him.

Dhoni, a man of few words, kept his ears and eyes open in the India dressing room to observe what Tendulkar and Dravid were doing to prepare themselves for the battles ahead. He picked up the finer points through observing the best in the business. Off the field, his cool and composed personality was the just right ingredient required for a person craving to learn the ways of the world.

Reams have been devoted to his exceptional abilities. I shall not repeat. But I would like to relate that never before have we had a leader in India – Polly Umrigar always excepted – as exemplary as the man from Ranchi. He began by leading India to the inaugural T20 world cup trophy with all the top names dropping out of the team for one reason or other! A young set of keen lads helped the relaxed captain to bring off one victory after another.

Before leading India, Dhoni had no experience of captaincy. No grooming at all. It seemed he did not need any. Players instinctively followed him for his sterling qualities of character. A distinct sign of a born, natural leader of men.

The success he achieved was really achieved by his strength of character and his wisdom. No other Indian captain – past or present – has been able to match his statistical highlights nor his popularity all over the country. In fact, has any other captain from any country been able to be the world champion in all the three formats at the same time?

Despite such magnificent achievements, the cool and composed man still remains as modest and accessible as he was nearly two decades back when he was making his debut in first-class cricket for Bihar. Far from stooping to gamesmanship, he was the epitome of the ‘spirit of cricket’ concept. His classic calling back of Ian Bell in England, after being given ‘out’ by the umpire, will forever remain a great lesson in sportsmanship. He even allowed a re-toss after having won the first toss in a world cup final. None but a genuine saint can act like he did.

Never took advantage of his position. He could have promoted players of his choice or his State but never did. He respected the selectors and allowed them to do their job. Never got involved with any publicity stunts. Never bothered to get into conflicts and controversies. Detested sledging and avoided verbal duels. Never resorted to any kind of one-upmanship. Never bothered to make the headlines with heroines. Never had cricket-cronies around him. He was and still remains a champion in the truest sense of the word. Kept the media at a distance, thankfully.

His persona was and still remains such that people consider him to be the leader, whether he is leading the team or not. He gave up his Test position in style and in isolation. Did not create any hullaballoo about it. How many men, dear reader, you know who has given up the India captaincy voluntarily without any pressure?

After being out of the captaincy throne, no other India captain has earned the respect and affection of his peers as Dhoni has. This shows the man’s actual worth. Even when not in the any seat of power his considerable aura pervades every nook and corner of Indian cricket. People from all walks of life revere the man for the qualities he has.

To have been at the top of Indian cricket without an influential patron is almost unheard of in Indian cricket. Almost every other long-serving India captain has had the blessings of men in power. Dhoni never had anyone to help him nor did he want anybody around. He was and still remains his own man. He retired from every level of cricket in his own signature style: strictly personal decision without any publicity campaigns.

No fiction writer would ever have conceived the rise and rise of Dhoni to fame and fortune. He was nowhere on the radar in early 2004 before two talent spotters from Bengal – without fear or favour – strongly recommended his name to BCCI.

By the end of the year the name of MS Dhoni was an obvious choice for the national team heading for Bangladesh. A man, who was ignored by all the concerned people for four years, suddenly became the cynosure of all eyes within four months!

Today, however, some former selectors and their cronies are bending backwards to prove that they were the ‘first’ to discover MS Dhoni!!!

Que…sera…sera

 

 

 

 

My Samajda

 Sunday 20th September, 2026 is Sukumar Samajpati’s birthday. Born in 1940 at Pabna, now in Bangladesh, since the age of 3 he has been a resident of Kolkata. In the 1960s we were told by our parents to try to be like Sukumar Samajpati.

Why was it so? That’s because he was an all-rounded personality. A role model for future generations. His orbit was wide and deep. As an academic student he excelled. As a right-winger he was good enough to be in the Indian football team during India’s golden decade in the 1960s. As a classical vocalist he was outstanding with classical tunes flowing in profusion. Rhythm and rhyme matched each other whether on stage or on the field of play.

He was truly matchless. As if these credentials were not exemplary enough, Samajda went on to become a general manager of India’s leading nationalized commercial bank. I doubt if any other Indian sportsman can match such diverse disciplines at such a high level of competence. ‘Lifetime Achievement’ awards from the Government of West Bengal and East Bengal Club were mere formalities.

He still remains the same relaxed person that he has always been throughout his life. While strumming the tanpura, his melodious rendering had the connoisseur nodding in appreciation. With the ball at his feet his dribbling and finishing had the crowds in ecstasy. When he spoke on platforms, audiences heard his erudition in awe. His forays into All India Radio football commentary earned universal admiration.

His manner of speech; his impeccable conduct; his helpful nature, his accessibility to the most simple people all combined to give a halo around his distinguished self. But he carried himself so lightly that nobody would ever feel awkward in his presence. He had time for everyone.

Never would he flaunt his talents to gain any advantage. On the contrary he was the ultimate personification of modesty. He showed paths to others; not blocked them. Grace and graciousness personified, he was hand-crafted by the Creator himself. Otherwise how would a person have so many sterling qualities?

If a popularity contest of All-Round Talents was held, he would be right on top of the chart. Self-effacing, the elegant gentleman still remains the role model that he was.

From my personal experience, I am proud to say that I learnt a lot just by observing him. First met him at Writers Buildings where the former sports minister Subhash Chakravarty requested some of us to sell tickets at street corners to raise money for the stadium-to-be at Salt Lake. I was apprehensive, had little idea to stand on the road and attract attention for donation.

Subhashda had original ideas. He said,” If popular sportspeople are on the streets, then sports-lovers would throng and donate. It is just Rs 10 per slip. Once the stadium comes up, these Rs 10 doners will be happy to think that they also contributed for a single brick! Of course the whole amount will come from the government and big corporate sponsors. But every sports lover must feel the stadium also belongs to him.” Wonderful, unique ideas, without doubt.

Samajda appreciated the idea and also understood my dilemma. He encouraged me, “Just be there. You will see what the sports loving Calcuttans would do.” Sure enough the wads of tickets vanished within minutes! Even a street-beggar bought one and shook my hand! I understood the crazy love of sport of our citizens. Thanks, Samajda, you opened my eyes.

In the 1980s when I was a part of Banks Sports Board, we decided to send talent-spotters to north-eastern states to discover young prodigies. Almost every former sportsman wanted to join thinking of rewards and remuneration to follow. I requested Samajda to suggest a name of a sincere, strong sports personality among his bank employees. Without any hesitation he said, “Bhaskar Ganguly.”

Yes, that was the perfect choice of a man who was a daredevil who could not be influenced. Bhaskar came back with the name of Bhaichung Bhutia on his lips. That began a career and the start of north-east dominance in Indian football. That’s the kind of quiet visionary Sukumarda has always been.

Just a few years ago, Samajda picked me up on his way to meet another of my favourite footballer Tulsidas Balaram, perhaps India’s most-complete player ever. Balada would not let me touch his feet, so I told him, ”Then you bless me by touching my head.” He embraced. Wonderful time together with two of India’s finest gentlemen-sportsmen. Within a few months Balada was no more.

Samajda’s autobiography KHELA SURER GALPO KATHA (Ekalavya publisher) is a must-read for all genuine lovers of sport. Reveals the man and his contemporary society in totality. Available in Amazon as well. The architect of the book is his highly talented daughter, Shrijata. Shrijata happens to be a gold medallist throughout her academic career and a doctorate , no less.

Last week went to meet him at his South Calcutta residence, where three intelligent, talented generations of Samajpatis lead a happy existence. His son is the exceptionally talented classical vocalist, the renowned Sandipan Samajpati. So is his daughter-in-law, Shalma. Soma Boudi, not to be outdone, happens to be a former scientist having done her doctorate in chemistry.

Samajda’s dad was a brilliant portrait painter apart from being a quality soccer player. Now we know where highly talented family lineage came from!

My young friend Siddhartha – a professional architect, former junior Bengal cricketer and BCCI qualified coach – gave me company as a die-hard Samajda fan. Amazingly, Sid’s dad had also told him eulogies of the man we were to visit. Our parents actually thought alike! Thanks to Sid’s skills Samajda’s spontaneous embrace was clicked right on time!

We did not have his address. We did not need it. Every man on the street seemed to know where the star of the 1960s lived! I wonder how many of the present generation sportspeople will have the same response from the common man on the street.

That was Samajda’s greatness. He remained the common man with uncommon credentials of the top order. Our parents were not wrong to advise us to follow the man. One of my role-models.

Bhaktipurna Pranams, Samajda and Boudi.

 

 

 On  Rahul Dravid      part 2

In temples Rahul Dravid garlanded Hindu Deities not divas. Never hosted at home influential political personalities. Never thought of conspiring for political posts or important appointments. Never could visualize ‘fixing’ of cricket matches. In a country where even so-called ‘sadhus in saffron’ manage ‘padma’ awards for themselves, in that dungeon how did he survive and thrive still amazes me. He saw dreadful issues day in, day out throughout his playing career. But the rishi in him was far, far beyond such mundane matters.

As you are all aware, D Litt is an honorary degree given to people who leave a distinct mark in the service of society. The highly deserving man was offered one. But the modest man thought otherwise. Dravid politely declined to accept the honorary appellation.

A genuine gentleman to the core, he revealed glorious courage to refuse an honorary doctorate. In a country where so-called celebrities bend backwards to plead influential circles for official designations, political appointments, national awards and ‘unearned’ academic doctorates, Dravid’s attitude is truly exceptional. No award, no prize could rattle him. Fame and fortune he relinquished in his relaxed manner.

To refuse to accept such inducements places him at par with the greatest of rishis who have left their spiritual mark on this great land of ours. The sage in him never ran after power, fame or fortune. He remained the selfless soul right on the peak of the Himalayas.

***

An incident I must reveal to reveal the man all the more. At Mysore city, Karnataka were hosting Punjab to a Ranji Trophy tie. Manish Pandey, a young talented batter, was playing an excellent innings and remained unbeaten on 80 at the end of the penultimate day, with his team needing around 50 plus to win the tie. While they were doing their cooling-down drills, as match referee I called Pandey and asked him the reason for wearing light grey coloured shoes while batting. Skipper Rahul was more embarrassed than the culprit, Pandey. Rahul, however, asked me if it was possible to allow him to continue with those shoes as he had no other pair.

I told Dravid that if he felt it was perfect, I would allow Pandey to continue with those shoes. Rahul replied, “No, no I do not think these shoes are ok. He should be wearing white shoes. Will you please accept if he puts white plaster on the shoes while batting?” I understood the problem, “Fair enough, skip. Out of sheer respect for you, I will allow it.”

Next day Pandey got his hundred and Karnataka won the match. After the conclusion, skipper Rahul came to the referee’s room and thanked me, “You have opened my eyes. I found most of my lads do not possess proper white cricket shoes. I assure you from next match Karnataka players will wear absolutely proper white shoes.” I was stunned to say the least. Here was a captain who had the courtesy to acknowledge even a minor problem and willing to admit it in public. How many captains would have the courage to uphold the traditional values of cricket in this manner?

***

Another incident revealed another dimension of his persona. At Jaipur, Rajasthan Royals was involved in an IPL match with Delhi Daredevils in 2012. As match referee, I walked in for the toss. The commentator at the toss was Sanjay Manjrekar. He asked me, “Sir, I just want to get the pronunciation of your name correctly. Is it MUKHERJI?” He proceeded to repeat my surname so that he got the pronunciation right.

Instantly Dravid, the RR skipper, smiled, “No, his real name is not MUKHERJI. It is MUKHOPADHYAY. ” I was taken aback for a moment, then replied, “Rahul is absolutely right. Since I am in tie and jacket I call myself Mukherji. In dhoti-kurta, I call myself Mukhopadhyay.” With a smile, Rahul wagged his finger at Sanjay with the ‘I told you so’ look.

The man is really amazing. How did he come to know that the Mukherjis are actually Mukhopadhyays. For a man from Karnataka to know the origin of Bengali surnames is quite astounding. His awareness of the world around goes far beyond the comprehension of most sportsmen. Bright, erudite and articulate, the man is actually one in a million. Far, far ahead of the media-created characters around him during his on-field days.

***

Rahul Dravid is a man of gratitude. He is known to have told the world time and again that Keki Tarapore was his coach, even though he has come under the guidance of far more famous cricket personalities. I asked Shahvir Tarapore, the international umpire and Keki Tarapore’s son, about Dravid’s relationship with his father.

Shahvir said, “My father was his coach at school. Rahul never let anybody forget that. He kept in constant touch with dad even when he was busy with his very tight international schedule. Dad used to feel a little embarrassed when Rahul often praised him publicly. But Rahul always maintained that the early coaches were the real coaches for they help to lay the foundation. To have a proper structure, you need a solid foundation.”

How very true. But how many famous players (Sachin Tendulkar, always excepted) would acknowledge the fact that they should be indebted to their early coaches? Only a brave man of rare character would have the broad-mindedness to accept the truth. With mere wealth one cannot buy ‘class’. This hypocrisy of forgetting the early coaches is apparent in every bio-pic that we get to see of Indian international cricketers.

***

Captains are selected by selectors. Leaders are followed by men. Rahul was a leader, whether captain or not. As a leader of men he proved himself time and again for India, even after retiring from the game. As a captain, he won Test series in West Indies and in England. Also a Test on Pakistan soil as deputy captain. No Indian captain has achieved this rare feat, media people please note.

 Initially with Karnataka and later with Rajasthan Royals, captain Dravid kept his profile low but was highly proactive. He was their captain, their mentor, their coach. Their leader in every sense. He accepted every role with grace and graciousness. Players within his orbit progressed not only as cricketers but also as human beings. All those who have played under him whether for Karnataka or Rajasthan Royals have no qualms in acknowledging that they literally worship him.

Rahul Dravid remains the modest self that he has always been. Never a word out of place. Never an act to raise any eyebrow. Never cared for publicity. Never flirted with any controversy. Never tried to draw any attention to himself. Always remained the selfless, low-profile, intelligent and articulate gentleman.

Rahul Dravid belongs to the Age of Renaissance. He does not believe in the violent radicalism of change, but in the matured reasoning of fusion. His approach is the approach of an intelligent, enquiring mind. A mind that observes, listens, studies, absorbs and applies. A mind that is willing to probe and to question and to discuss. A mind that acknowledges the contribution of the past; a mind that seeks the path of future progress.

As a pragmatic individual, like the heroes of the Renaissance, his whole cricket is based on the fundamental values and classical ideas of the game. He bats with the full face of the bat to the ball because that was the original idea of the game. It has not changed because the width of the bat remains the same. He does not believe in snicking a ball and claiming to have guided the ball on purpose. I have seen him lower his head in disappointment and in anguish when an edged, unintended shot fetched him some runs.

When he goes forward to play, he really goes to embrace the ball close to his body. Knees and waist sufficiently bent, not in supplication but with all due concentration for the job. Like the classical exponents he wants his mind and his eyes to monitor the movement of his body to the ball. This is concentration and commitment of the highest order.

The champion cricketer belonged to the old school. Impeccable technique, both in defence and in offence. A man who carried the national flag on his shoulders. An Indian national of pride and self-respect. 

Dravid has been a marvellous ambassador for India. Erudite, articulate and sensitive, he has approached his job of playing for India from various angles. Primarily, as a cricketer and later as a coach. But, no less important, as a national representative. Whether meeting young fans or heads-of-state he has kept his perspectives clear.

 On the field, his great quality was consistency. Right from his school days his was a name that kept cropping up whenever Karnataka played. Consistency was, and still is, his forte. Consistency and commitment that come from values. Values which imbibe technique, temperament, attitude, conduct. Under every count he would get very high honours marks.

The man’s selfless service to Indian cricket would be remembered by those who have seen him. For future generations his contribution would be enshrined in diamond and platinum. Rahul Dravid’s serious mien is reflected in the frown that he wears. It is not the frown of a disturbed man, but the frown of a man of commitment. A soul, who is willing to make personal sacrifices for the national cause. What a refreshing change from those petty men who create hassles even about batting orders and bowling spells.

When he came into Test cricket in England in 1996 he looked the part from Day1. Runs came in profusion, not through non-conventional strokes but by means of accepted modes and conservative ideology. He approached cricket with intelligence as he approaches everything else in life. His has been an approach that lends credence to conventional and orthodox patterns. An approach that reassures the older generation to keep faith in the younger set.

In a cricket world that lost its innocence, Dravid’s presence was the only consolation. He upheld the spirit of cricket and its traditional values on and off the field. He was probably the last of a rare breed. A great cricketer; a greater human being.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Rahul Dravid:

A tribute to an extraordinary human being.

Part  1

Rahul Dravid is no model; he is a role model. After Polly Umrigar’s departure it was left to the erudite gentleman Rahul Dravid to be India’s premier cricket ambassador.

With impeccable manners and exemplary conduct on and off the pitch, the exceptional leader of men gave our cricket a new dimension. He declared an India Test innings closed with his close compatriot on 194!

By Indian standards it could never be thought of. The statistical obsession of Indians is well known. For us Indians, individual performance invariably over-rides team’s interest. No Indian captain would have dared to deprive a most prominent individual of his personal achievement for the cause of the team. With this unique decision, he transformed Indian cricket into a team game.

The leader in Rahul Dravid did precisely that. In 2003-04 he went to Pakistan as the deputy captain. At Multan in the 1st Test, he had to take over the captaincy as the captain designate was injured. With India scoring a mammoth total in about 2 days, stand-in skipper Dravid decided that he would give his bowlers enough time to scalp the opposition twice in 3 days in its own den.

When he declared India’s innings, Sachin Tendulkar was on 194! Everyone was stunned. But Dravid true to his nationalistic spirit thought of Team India first and of the individual second. Initially ST was perhaps upset. But when RD explained the situation to him in the evening, the great batsman came back to his normal cheery self. Mind you, dear reader, when RD was discussing with ST on the issue, no one else was beside them.

Of course, after the victory was achieved, a few others took credit for the declaration! These individuals were supposed to have advised Rahul about the timing of the declaration! Indian media ‘roasted’ captain Dravid instead of giving him the due credit for the innings defeat inflicted on Pakistan in little over 4 days.

Despite overseas series victories against quality oppositions like West Indies and England, RD never got his due as among India’s premier cricket captains. His sophisticated profile kept him away from our shortsighted vision.

***

The first time I met Rahul Dravid was at Mumbai in 2005-06. The occasion was the inaugural edition of BCCI’s T20 tournament. BCCI’s inter stateT20 tournament is named after the memory of one of India’s master batsmen, Syed Mushtaq Ali. The match was at Wankhede Stadium and one of the teams happened to be Karnataka.

The day before the match at the pre-match meeting –where the two contesting teams meet the umpires and the match referee – Karnataka was represented by their new captain Yere Gowda, as the original captain Dravid was not certain to play. At the time he was leading India and the national team had just returned from a foreign tour and so the Karnataka manager Sudhakar Rao informed us that their original choice as captain, Rahul Dravid, may not be able to arrive on time for the match.

Next morning, before the toss while the umpires and I as the match referee were inspecting the pitch, we saw Rahul Dravid walking towards the pitch. As he came near, he exchanged pleasantries and then was about to step on the pitch itself. I quickly blurted out, “Are you leading the team in this match?” He shook his head and said, “No.” I smiled and added, “Probably you have forgotten that as a playing member you are not supposed to walk on the pitch. Only the captain has the prerogative.”

Instantly he stopped and said, “I am sorry. Thanks for reminding me.” I replied, “Cannot blame you, Rahul. As the India captain you have got used to walking on the pitch before the match. Anyway, no harm done. Thanks.”

Suddenly the huge frame of Venkatesh Prasad appeared. He thought I was having a confrontation with Rahul Dravid. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his voice, “Do you realize that you are arguing with the India captain.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the India captain Rahul Dravid cut him short, “Ref is correct. As an ordinary player I am not allowed on the pitch.”

This is the real Rahul Dravid. A man of courage; a man of character. Courageous enough to accept that he himself was about to make a mistake. He had no qualms in saying so in front of the curator, the umpires and others who were near us at the time. Revealed exemplary character to silence his colleague for being wrong. I feel proud to see that we still have such men with us

***.

Later that evening, after our match was over I went across to the Brabourne Stadium , the home of Cricket Club Of India (CCI), to watch another T20 match in progress. As I entered, Dilip Vengsarkar called me over to the seat beside him. On the other side was Rahul Dravid.

Vengsarkar introduced me to him saying, “Meet my friend Raju.” Straight-faced Dravid replied, “Met him this morning. A very lenient match referee.” When Dilip furrowed his eyebrows to know what had transpired earlier, Rahul smiled and mentioned the incident. Dilip added sauce, “Even when he was playing, Raju behaved like a match ref!”

As the conversation flowed, Rahul mentioned that he had liked reading my book, “The part about cricket being played during Mahabharata days was an eye-opener.”  I was astounded that he had found the time to read my writing. As if this was not enough, he added, “Rajan Bala told me to read your articles. I usually do.” He was so very matter of fact. No ego. No pretence. I came to learn that he was an avid collector of cricket books.

***

Later that season again our paths crossed. This time again at Wankhede. The occasion was a Ranji Trophy tie between Mumbai and Karnataka. Before leaving Calcutta, I had taken a first edition Cardus duplicate that I had in my collection for Rahul. My wife was mad at me, “Do you realize that you would be giving the India captain a moth-eaten, old book? What will he think of you?” I had told her before departure, “If any player would realize the book’s worth, that would be Dravid.”

 How correct I was. The moment he had the tattered copy in his hands, he uttered, “Are you sure you want to part with this original edition Cardus? This is a collector’s item. This will be a treasure in my collection.” The cerebral man did not bother about the exterior. Here was a man who could buy new books from all over the world. But he understood the value of antiquity.

 

 

 

On  Polly Umrigar: my idol in cricket

 

Polly Umrigar was the chief architect who laid the stolid foundation of modern Indian cricket. He had time for every cricketer from the junior-most trainee to the senior-most former player. Nothing in Indian cricket was beyond his knowledge and extreme involvement.              

 

Former Test cricketers have been remarkably unsuccessful as cricket administrators. Only a handful has left behind any worthwhile contribution. Most former cricketers-turned administrators generally fell prey to the machination of the officials they replaced. Transparency, visionary approach, cricketers’ welfare, youth programmes were anathema to them. They merely carried out the age-old policies of their short-sighted predecessors.

 

There were some glorious exceptions, though. But none more convincing than the magnanimous visionary Polly Umrigar. As the BCCI secretary, closeted in his small office at an obscure corner of CCI’s Brabourne Stadium, he thought big, really big. As a serious student of cricket, he was the ultimate servant of the game. To use a cliché, he slept, ate and drank cricket.

 

No, he did not stop at that. It was not oxygen but cricket that he drew in with every breath. What came out from him was all-embracing wisdom: youth coaching camps around the country, national cricket academies training of coaches and umpires, improvements in travel and accommodation for youth teams, awards for different age-groups, efforts to promote cricket in north-east India, welfare schemes for former cricketers.

 

Today when former Test and first-class cricketers are enjoying the benefits of the BCCI pension scheme, little do they realize that the man who made it possible was Polly Umrigar with active assistance from Raj Singh Dungarpur, a former first-class cricketer himself. It is my great fortune that both Polly-kaka and Raj-bhai had imposed a lot of faith in me as they meddled around with the modalities of the intended pension scheme in the 1990s.

 

In the mid-1990s when Polly Umrigar was firmly in the BCCI secretary’s saddle, he conceived the idea of providing pension to former cricketers. He had all the papers and files ready with the budgets, eligibility criteria, mode of payment and other formalities for the BCCI top administrators to see and sign. When I raised an issue concerning cricketers’ widows, Raj Bhai joked, “Raju, does not have me in mind!” (As all are aware, Raj-bhai and his lady-love Lataji never got to marry).

 

The BCCI administrators took eight long years to come to terms to assist people who had helped the country’s cricket to prosper. This too came about with the arrival of Sharad Pawar at the helm. Thankfully BCCI’s full-time administrator, the brilliant Professor Shetty was near at hand to show Pawar, the new BCCI president, the documents that Polly Umrigar had so lovingly prepared and preserved.

 

Unfortunately Polly Umrigar’s magnanimous approach to assist former cricketers was never highlighted in India. Even BCCI presidents, who had kept the files under wraps since the mid-1990s, took credit and shelved the name of the genuine creator from the media and the people. Today every former cricketer should take time to say a short prayer for the soul who made so many families happy. I knew I did not make a mistake in identifying my all-time hero. 

 

No schoolboy fiction was ever conceived without the wide shoulders, the clear-cut features and the booming voice which went on to make the hero’s personality. We had come to believe that such qualities were found only in story books. But in Polly Umrigar’s story, it was no fiction. It was as authentic as the city of Mumbai which had nurtured and nourished him.

 

Christened Pahlan Rattanji Umrigar, the man was a larger than life persona. The imposing frame sheltered a heart still bigger. Never, not even once, did those massive shoulders stoop. Rather, those were strong enough to perpetually carry his peers. His magnanimous presence captivated all and sundry.

 

As a child I had often seen him playing the dour role of saving India from embarrassment. But the first distinct impression that remains was that of a leader harnessing his men to victory. The year was 1961-62; the venue, Eden Gardens and the opposition Ted Dexter’s England (then MCC). Polly Umrigar was not the appointed captain. But in skipper Nari Contractor’s absence, he introduced Ramakant Desai from the High Court end and brought about the downfall of the prolific Ken Barrington. Eden’s hero Desai bounced, Barrington hooked and another Eden hero Durani, at square leg, made the difficult catch look easy.

 

That masterpiece of tactics had the floodgates open and England collapsed giving India her first-ever Test match victory at Eden Gardens. As the dignified figure of Polly Umrigar receded into the pavilion, he walked into the pantheons of cricket history. Never before or after has a deputy captain made such an inspiring move to liven up an almost dead Test match.

 

Later I met him in 1976 when he was a national selector. During the course of the Eden Gardens Test match, he and colleagues wanted to have a look at the Test prospects from East Zone. Very hastily a net session was organized. All the national selectors, except the eastern region representative, turned up as did the potential players. But none bothered to prepare the pitch for the net session to take place!

 

Another selector Kisan Rungta was furious at the callousness of the local cricket administration. Polly Umrigar was shocked and sympathized, “Hope you boys are more fortunate next time.” Later as the BCCI secretary, he took every possible step for the promotion of youth cricket so that no cricket talent would be lost through carelessness. This is the kind of care he took for junior players.

 

After my cricketing days were over, I kept in touch with Polly Kaka. I would write to him very often with proposals and suggestions. Not once did he express any botheration. On the contrary he would write back words of encouragement and discuss cricket issues, which included the pension scheme for former cricketers.

                                                                    

Sir Garfield Sobers was undoubtedly the greatest of all-rounders. He was a rare 3-in-1 all-rounder; a person capable of bowling pace and spin as well as batting. But was he the first of the 3-in-1s? Surely not. That credit, arguably, may be conferred on Polly Umrigar, the most underrated of our sporting heroes. About his batting and off-spinning abilities legends abound, but his medium paced out-swingers and off-cutters did not receive the recognition those deserved.

 

At a time when India did not possess top-class pace bowlers, we had to rely on the incisive medium pacers of this burly all-rounder from Mumbai. Hardly ever he disappointed. On the matting wicket of Bahawalpur in 1954-55 against Pakistan he enjoyed his best spell with the new ball: 58-25-74-6.

 

No Indian cricket addict has quite been able to shed the pangs of recrimination at the way Umrigar was treated by the national selectors and the media. He was a natural leader of men. A man of dominating presence and astute thinking. At the same time, understanding and considerate. He was not the kind to create a halo of impregnability around himself to unnerve the uninitiated. Nor would he have a permanent nod for the powers-that-be. He belonged to neither group and invariably suffered the consequences. For his uncompromising posture, he was our hero.

 

Against Harry Cave’s New Zealand in 1955-56, Umrigar’s India won the series two nil. Next winter he went about consolidating the team as the nucleus was rapidly ageing. But constant changing and chopping did not help to cement the team’s morale against Ian Johnson’s Australia as the series was lost.  But the imposing personality never stooped not even against the marauding West Indies, who had the blistering pace of Wesley Hall and Roy Gilchrist and the genius of Rohan Kanhai and Garfield Sobers. The team, under Umrigar’s leadership, brought off an honorable draw in the first Test at Bombay but the strength of the opposition created an inferiority complex among the players.

 

Umrigar realized the problem soon enough and requested the selectors for a few changes. He wanted courageous men who would fight till the end even for a lost cause. But the selectors refused to yield and Polly Umrigar, the man of high principles, relinquished the captaincy. No Indian captain before or since has shown such sterling qualities of character.

 

However to his eternal credit he never bore grudges nor did he brood himself to frustration. Happily he co-operated with every new captain who replaced him and led India: Ghulam Ahmed, Vinoo Mankad, Hemu Adhikari, DK Gaekwad, Pankaj Roy, GS Ramchand and Nari Contractor.

 

He even willingly served under Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi, 15 years his junior, and wholeheartedly supported the young captain in West Indies in 1962. In Pataudi’s Tiger’s Tale’, the unhesitating help of Polly Umrigar has been mentioned. Umrigar played under various captains of very average ability but not once did he show any rancour nor did he ever try to scheme to get his captaincy crown back

 

A grave injustice was done to him by a flippant remark which went on to become an international headline. He had a dismal series in England in 1952. To compound matters it was said that he had backed away from the express deliveries of Freddie Trueman. If that was true then so were many eminent names in international cricket. Did not the Australians fall in a heap against Peter Pollock in South Africa in 1970? Did not the Englishmen draw away from Lillee and Thompson in Australia? There are numerous similar examples. Why was Umrigar singled out?

 

But the fact remains that he went back to England in 1959 and collared Trueman and Harold Rhodes and smashed an innings of 118 at Old Trafford. He took on the mighty Wes Hall in his own backyard with an unbeaten innings of 172. Where were those who had derided the callow youth on his first tour in 1952? He was never media savvy and never cared about what the uninitiated thought of him.

 

Against Fazal Mahmood’s men he had his most successful series ever. He reeled off 3 centuries in 5 Tests. No matter the opposition, no matter the conditions, Umrigar was a man for all seasons. When he retired in 1962 he had a fantastic average of 42.22 with 3631 runs including 12 centuries.

 

As a bowler he never got his due. Overshadowed by the presence of Vinoo Mankad, Ghulam Ahmed and Subhash Gupte, he was always considered to be a second fiddle. Yet when the Aussies capsized against Jasu Patel at Kanpur in 1959, it was Polly Umrigar’s 4 vital wickets, including those Neil Harvey and Norman O’Neil that hastened the disaster. As a fieldsman he was of the top bracket, whether close to or far from the wicket. A safe pair of hands, an unerring throw and an impeccable anticipation was his hallmark.

 

After retirement from active cricket, he was still more active in the service of the game. As coach, manager, administrator he left behind his mark in every sphere and was highly respected by all those who came in contact with him. Deep knowledge and a broad mind gave him a wider vision than usual. Remarkably open to views he would take suggestions even from laymen. Very diligently he studied and then made his recommendations to BCCI. It was primarily because of his initiative that former players, both Test and first-class, are receiving pension from BCCI in recognition of their services to Indian cricket.

 

The modesty of the man was profound. Once I met him at Sunil Banerjee’s place in Calcutta. Polly-kaka had read a piece of mine on him in Sportsworld and thanked me profusely, “Raju, that article of yours pleasantly surprised my family. They thought no one remembered me any more. Next time you come to Mumbai you must have a cup of tea with us.” With his demise, I have lost the man whom I respected the most in Indian cricket.

 

Polly Umrigar’s retirement from cricket as an active player had a unique ring about it. After scores of 56,172 not out, 32 and 60 against Hall, Sobers and Gibbs in 1962 when India was black-washed five-love, Umrigar stood stall and fearless as usual.

 

The great persona decided that he had had enough. People were aghast. They kept asking, “Why?” Polly Umrigar’s classic reply was, “Better now when they are asking ‘why’ than later when they would be asking ‘why not’. Indeed, indeed. What a lesson from a champion sportsman. His action taught us what character was; what wisdom meant.

 

He was without any semblance of doubt the chief architect of modern Indian cricket. From the day of his Test debut at Brabourne Stadium in 1948-49, he stood tall and surveyed the proceedings of Indian cricket in a manner no one had done before or since. His sterling qualities, his visionary approach, his magnanimity are unparalleled. He bridged the pre-War era with the post-independent India as a statesman. On behalf of all Indian cricketers I bow down to him in eternal pranam.

 

 

Ray, cricket and me       (Part 2)

In India the first indoor cricket facility was at Eden Gardens. Chief Minister SS Ray extended all help to Cricket Association of Bengal.

The highly qualified, sophisticated CM did not express any wish to name the indoor facility after himself, as is the modern trend. In honour of India’s most successful sports manager ever – Pankaj Gupta – the indoor facility was christened.

The Pankaj Gupta Indoor Stadium saw the light of day in 1978 after Ray’s exit from the Chief Minister’s chair. SS Ray was the prime architect of the first indoor facility exclusively for cricket in India.

 On the inauguration day, as the Bengal cricket captain, I took the opportunity to praise the efforts of our most magnanimous former CM from the podium. Credit is due to the Left Front government’s representative on the dais, Jatin Chakrabarti – a dynamic minister of impeccable integrity – who was then also looking after the sports affairs of the WB government. He extended all help to CAB to complete the structure. 

 Jatin Chakrabarti repeated the contribution of the ex-CM, who happened to be his political rival. Yes, that’s the quality of politicians Bengal was blessed with in the 1970s and 1980s.

***

During Ray’s tenure as CM we had the huge multi-purpose sport stadium Netaji Indoor Stadium with a adjacent structure for practice facilities named Khudiram Anushilan Kendra. The CAB club house – Dr BC Roy Club House – too was also while Ray was at the political helm. Never did he crave for publicity by naming these sporting structures after himself, as is shamelessly done today.

 

Nobody seems to know or care that the internationally-acclaimed Calcutta Book Fair began in 1976 during SS Ray’s tenure. Without ever taking any credit for its resounding success over the years, Ray was the prime architect who gave shape to the concept.

When the Publishers’ & Booksellers’ Guild approached the CM Siddhartha Shankar Ray with the idea, he visualized the ‘bigger’ picture and immediately gave the green signal with all assistance from the State government. The Calcutta Book Fair would be celebrating its 50^th anniversary in January 2027.

Thanks to Ray’s visionary enterprise, it has become the pride of West Bengal.  Never for once did Siddhartha Shankar Ray take an iota of credit for all the help he extended to the organizers. That’s the kind of class and sophistication this highly successful yet modest gentleman had.

***

 While returning from Darjeeling in the summer of 1976 after the CM XI tour (covered in Part 1), I received Ray’s ‘firm’ order to meet him early next week.

Following week at Calcutta, I went to meet the Rays at their Beltola residence (palace is the more appropriate term) at 8 am sharp. Both in embroidered silk dressing gowns were at the chamber well before the scheduled time, as I was. Next morning I was to visit a corporate house and meet a prominent executive for an interview. The affectionate warmth of SS Ray was more than evident, “Please don’t start about Jadavpur University. Stick to St Xavier’s.”

Ever to the rescue, by now she was my Mayadi: No, Raju, just be as you are. You stick to your first name Satya Brata. Never follow the advice of politicians!

Ray gave her an angry actor’s stare. I was on my way…

Corporate corridor, sharp at 10 am. In walks a gentleman. After all the routine formalities, the gentleman asked, “Can you join next month?”

I said, “No. I have a short cricket tour of one week.”

He was truly aghast: You mean you will be playing cricket while you are with us?

I nodded: Yes, CM feels that Bengal needs me and I should concentrate on cricket first.

“But then we cannot have you. We do not encourage cricket.”

Now my Jadavpur University spirit was in full flow,” Of course, you do. You organize a domestic cricket championship in India involving all State teams. Are you not aware?”

“That’s only for commercial purposes. We sponsor with advertising in mind.”

The influence of SXC and JU’s combined, “Ah! I see. Smoking welcomed; not cricket!”

He began to mumble, fumble and finally coughed, “I think we will get back to you later.”

“Don’t stress yourself, please.” I signed off.

***

Ray was really upset. Immediately he telephoned Sanat Lahiri, the most prominent name in PR circles and told me to meet him. Thankfully Sanat Lahiri was known to me as my friend Ranajit’s father. Gentlemanliness to the core, Mr Lahiri took me to meet Mr Russy Mody at Tata Centre.

A case of instant rapport, it was. Russy Mody did not bother about any formalities. We discussed cricket and Indian sport in general with Sanat Lahiri adding some very relevant information, particularly about corporate sports facilities for budding sportspeople. The seeds of the Tata Sports Academy at Jamshedpur were perhaps planted there and then.

Finally, Russy Mody said, “Rajew (that’s how he pronounced my name), go to Jamshedpur as soon as you can. You join our PR department. Keep writing. I desperately want you to play for Bihar.’

Hesitatingly I muttered, “Sir, I cannot leave my ageing parents behind. Moreover I may be leading Bengal this season.”

Mr Mody was magnanimous enough to say,” Very fair. The offer remains open. You take the decision. At Jamshedpur you would get a bungalow, get married, raise children and also take your parents with you. You will get enough time to play cricket. They might even ask you to teach at XLRI. Don’t rush. Take your time. I do not want you to regret later.”

Was I right or wrong? Honestly, I still do not know. Perhaps, I regret the decision to stay back. Perhaps, I was correct to remain with Calcutta, Xavier’s, JadU, cricket, my cricket-students and the media. With every passing day, I am in perpetual dilemma…even now!

***

Let’s go back to Ray and sports. WB Governor Ms Padmaja Naidu – of Telegu-Bengali parentage – began a tradition in the 1950s of presenting the Calcutta University sportspersons with their ‘University Blue’ certificates at the Raj Bhavan. In the 1970s, SS Ray as CM continued with the hallowed tradition.

Once at the Raj Bhavan in the early 1970s the Chief Minister SS Ray while presenting ‘Blues’ to the Calcutta University sportsmen in a moving speech mentioned the exemplary contribution of Reverend  Cecil Leeming (our sports-in-charge at St Xavier’s) to school-college-university sport in Calcutta. A standing applause greeted the announcement.

Fr Leeming – who was never short of witty repartees – for a change, looked stumped. The Irish complexion turned beet-root red. He was actually blushing! It took a man of SS Ray’s eminent stature to give the deserving sportsman-priest his due. Ray signed off, “Reverend Father Leeming, wish you were in-charge when I represented Calcutta University at cricket in the 1940s. We would have learnt a lot from you.”

Can one imagine this ethos today?

***

Recently my young, enterprising publisher-friend Sachin Bajaj of Mumbai had a delightful incident to relate to reveal the real man in SS Ray. Sachin had come to Eden Gardens for a Test match in the mid-1980s when Ray was the President of CAB.

During the luncheon interval for guests at the Club House dining hall, Sachin asked the catering manager of Bijoli Grill, what the fish was in the Fish Orly served. A booming voice from just behind volunteered, “That’s the original Calcutta bhetki. No substitute will you ever find. You cannot stop at one. Go ahead. Do justice to the fish and the cooking.”

Sachin Bajaj was awestruck at the easy spirit of comradeship, the humane attitude and the generosity of guidance. That’s Siddhartha Shankar Ray at his best. Even the chef was not forgotten by the CM. Thanks, Sachin, for sharing the revealing incident.

Ray held no rancor against anyone; had no idea of revenge. Had no time or inclination towards self-publicity. Have seen him enjoy the company of Jyoti Basu, his successor as CM, at the Calcutta Club. Educated, liberal men in the most appropriate sense of the word.

For Ray every moment was a moment of joy, a moment to savour. He was a statesman of utmost pragmatism; a politician of easy accessibility; a man far, far beyond greed and jealousy; man full of affection and understanding.

I can merely whisper that the softest of persona loved youngsters as his own grandchildren. Sport, particularly cricket, was his life-long passion.