Today is the birth centenary of the first Bengali Test cricketer: Probir Kumar  Sen (Khokon)    1926 - 1970

Today if one walks into the CAB club house at Eden Gardens, one would come across a wall in the central lounge where a list of Test players from Bengal appears. The list begins with a glaring error. The first name itself is wrong! Just goes to show how much of pride and interest we have in our own selves! Of course, there are a whole lot of other wrong names in that list, as well.

Over the last 15 years the list with the embarrassing errors has stayed on despite repeated requests to alter. No CAB president has shown any interest in having the list rectified. Complete ignorance?  Or, sheer indifference?

Unfortunately even an erudite man like Sunil Gavaskar fell into the trap and once commented in his television broadcast that the first Bengali Test player was Shute Banerjee! Sunil of course was relying on the piece of information available to him in the official site of CAB. Shute Banerjee’s name is prominently displayed on the CAB lounge to mislead the whole world.

Shute Banerjee was representing Bihar when he made his Test debut for India in 1948-49 at Bombay in the 5^th and final Test of the series.

The first Bengali player to play for India was not Shute Banerjee , but Probir Kumar Sen, popularly known as Khokon. In 1947-48 he went with skipper Lala Amarnath’s team to Australia as the second wicket-keeper to Jamshed Irani. But after two Tests the team management realized that they had made a blunder by omitting Sen from the first XI.

Just out of teens, Khokon Sen brought about a radical change in the ethos of Indian cricketers. Joking, chatting, playing pranks, the vivacious youngster injected some fresh air in the claustrophobic ambience of Indian cricket. He was not a rebel in the conventional sense. He was not fighting for any cause. He was just himself: extrovert, entertainer, energy personified.

Perpetually on the move, he seemed to be. Came into national reckoning by his superlative talents. He had no Dutta Ray or Dalmiya to plead for him. He was an independent individual who cared little about what others felt about him. Not a respecter of persons or things, he maintained his originality in every step of his. He did not join groups, nor did he fall for any ‘carrots’ dangled. He maintained his composure, come rain, hail or sunshine.

Khokon Sen’s career was a massive mass of misunderstanding. People enjoyed his company but ridiculed him behind his back. He was always thought to be pompous because of his very close rapport with royalty. Actually he was an extrovert with the softest of souls. Just as he was close to the maharajas so was he to the masseur, particularly Jeevanlal Pal.

The Maharaja of Cooch Behar, Jagaddipendra Narayan Bhup Bahadur, who was very popular as ‘Bhaya’, was an elder brother to Khokonda. They were very thick friends on and off the field. Bhaya captained Bengal in the Ranji Trophy in the 1940s while Probir Sen took over in the following decade.

Khokonda’s hearty laughter was as appealing as his big heart. Hailing from a wealthy family, the generous persona loved having people around him to relax and regale. With Bhaya, he would be seen at social clubs, palaces, angling expeditions and shikaars. He enjoyed the best of liquor and was voracious with Continental cuisine, particularly crabs and prawns, but made no effort to feel defensive about either.

Unfortunately his gregarious nature, his easy laughter, his practical jokes were thought to be of a man yet to mature. His Bengal team mates which included Nirmal Chatterjee (Bengal’s best-ever all-round sportsman) and Badal Dutt (Bengal captain and Cambridge University Blue) as well as the Test cricketer Montu Banerjee loved and adored him. Even the great Indian contemporaries like Vinoo Mankad, Vijay Hazare and Polly Umrigar found him to be excellent company. The fashionable man would wear Barkat Ali suits with felt hats tilted stylishly. Those were the days…

Sen, barely 20 at the time, began at Melbourne and was an instant success with his wicket-keeping. Brilliantly acrobatic, he was an extrovert character who just could not keep quiet. He would chatter constantly from behind the wicket with the fieldsmen and the bowlers. He would liven up a dreary, boring afternoon on the field with his incessant fund of stories.

His exceptional wicket-keeping ability came into focus during the War years when first-class cricket continued in India. He made his Ranji Trophy debut for Bengal in 1943-44 and received high acclaim from all quarters. Born in 1926 at Comilla         (now in Bangladesh), Khokon Sen showed exceptional promise as an all-round sportsman from his school days.

His contemporaries found the young man –full of humour and highly pro-active – a delight. His child-like simplicity attracted attention. He was full of pranks even in State-level matches. He was always doing the unexpected. Not an ‘opener’, he once opened the innings and got a century in Ranji Trophy.

If this was not enough, once he took off his gloves and began to bowl. The umpire asked, “Over-the-wicket? Or, round?” The instant answer was, “Sir, from beside the wicket, if you do not mind.” Believe it or not, he actually has a hat-trick in Ranji Trophy. Wonder if this is a world record for a wicket-keeper.

It is said that Bill Ferguson, the famous scorer, once told Sen that he reminded him of the England wicket-keeper George Duckworth who also had the habit of constant chatter. Sen turned round and told him, “I don’t just talk and talk. I guide. I give encouragement.” And then in his typical camaraderie embraced Ferguson and went for a round of beer. No wonder the Indians were very popular as tourists those days.

Sen had a very happy tour on and off the field in Australia. On a disastrous tour, apart from Hazare, Mankad and to an extent Dattu Phadkar, the youngest member Sen was an outstanding success. Being a superb social-mixer, he became the toast of the evenings when the Indians would spend a lot of time with Don Bradman for advice. In the match against South Australia he flashed off Bradman’s bails with lightning speed on the very difficult leg side. Bradman, true to his character, was full of praise for young stumper’s speed, anticipation and agility.

On that tour of Australia, every Indian cricketer was offered the scope to say two sentences over the long-distance phone that had just been introduced between India and Australia. Almost all the players said that they were fine except, of course, the one and only Khokon Sen. When his turn came, the 20-year old Khokon shouted, “Dadu, send money. Nothing left!” That was typical of him: no other message worthy enough! He endeared himself to all those who played with and against him.

Sen played for India against West Indies at home in 1948-49 then went to England in 1952 as well as was a regular in the national team at the time. Although a regular member the opportunities were sadly limited to only 14 Tests.

The highpoint of his career was the victory at Madras in 1951-52. Skipper Vijay Hazare’s team defeated Nigel Howard’s MCC very convincingly with Roy and Umrigar getting hundreds and Vinoo Mankad capturing 12 wickets. They were the prime architects of the victory.

But one man made headlines from an unusual position. That was Khokon Sen. He had a hand in 5 stumpings. This was exemplary wicket-keeping no doubt but what was more appealing was the man’s stage-craft. One moment he would be throwing the ball up and juggling with it. Next moment he would start to roll on the ground to the cheers of the crowd. And in the very next instant he would be running around the pitch with the ball in hand like a goal-scorer in football. Sen captivated the audience and the media lapped it up. He was indeed a born showman.

I met him just once. Was the year 1970? I distinctly remember the date 26^th January for many reasons than the obvious one. I was a member of the Mohun Bagan team which went to Kalighat Club ground to play an exhibition match. Our captain was the mercurial Chuni Goswami.

Just prior to the match, our dressing room vibrated with the laughter of a diminutive, stocky man of around 45. Unmistakably Khokon Sen. He was cracking jokes with Chunida, Shyamuda and my elder brother Deb when his eyes fell on me. “Who’s this?” he furrowed his eyebrows. Someone mentioned, “Deb’s younger brother.”  “Deb’s brother?” he fumed, “Unshaven? You must try to look like a cricketer.”

Like most precocious college youth, I had little respect for persons who had no time for me. I coolly uttered, “Sir, have you not heard of WG Grace?” There was pin-drop silence. Stunned, Khokonda instantly recovered, smiled, put his hand on my shoulder, “Son, why hide your handsome face with a beard?” I forced a smile in return. As Khokonda left our room, my brother was furious with me for my silly response.

Little did we realize that the famous man had come to take an active part in that ‘friendly’ fixture. He had come in cream flannels and had his India blazer on. He was well past his prime and had not played at all for over a decade. Why did he decide to play that particular match will forever be a question that would go unanswered.

Next afternoon we heard that Khokonda was no more. After the match he had some spurious rum that burnt his gullet. What a dreadful death for a cheerful man. I happened to be his last victim as a wicket-keeper. He held my ‘edge’ – a simple, straight forward catch – and then leaned to his right, allowed the body to fall gently and roll over in front of second slip! For ever a showman. A lovable gentleman. A wonderful human being.

I have the highest regard for him because he was a true sportsman: modest, humourous, determined, chivalrous and highly talented. Khokonda was incapable of hurting anyone. A man who had given endless hours of mirth to all around him.

His approach to life revolutionized cricket in India to a great extent. It is not commonly realized that this man of wit was a messenger of life-style. He was like Charlie Chaplin the immortal of the film world: humour laced with message. To bring about changes he did not fight with anyone. Through his child-like simplicity he made others realize their folly. Back-stabbing, conspiracies, groupism, loose-talk, parochialism, etcetera which had inundated Indian cricket at the time gradually became severely restricted.

 He brought about a silent revolution in Indian cricket with his characteristic sense of humour. He was not a rebel with a whole lot of causes. His rebellion was one of approach. Through personal example, he planted the idea of enjoyment among Indian players: sport was meant to be enjoyed; sport was for providing entertainment to others; sport was a delightful means to camaraderie; sport was life to be lived.

The charming rebel of Indian cricket left us at 45, much too early. It is said… those whom the gods love, leave young…