Moti Nandi Part 2
The eminent author Moti Nandi and I
had nothing in common. Two extremities just bonded. My deep respect was
reciprocated by his unconditional love. He gave me space as much that I did not
stray…
Shakti Chattopadhyay, the famous
poet, had a great liking for me only because I happened to be the cricket
captain of his favourite club, Mohun Bagan. For Shaktida, neither Bengal nor India
colours meant anything. His interest in sports began and ended with Mohun Bagan!
Always addressed me as ‘captain’.
Once Shaktida asked me, “Captain, I will take
you to my drinking-den and spend time with my friends.” Motida very firmly
said, “No. Raju will not drink with you in that place. You come with us to a
proper club.” Shaktida, not to be outdone, replied, “Ok, I shall not force. But
I have promised my friends that I shall bring the Mohun Bagan captain over one
day. Now I will have to go back on my word.” Motida solved the matter in his
distinctive style, “Raju and I will go with you, say ‘hullo’ to your friends
and depart.”
To say this to Shaktida required
tremendous guts. Shaktida had a bohemian approach to life and was a very
outspoken personality. He believed in extremes. But on this occasion Motida’s
firmness won the day. Motida understood that I would not be comfortable in the
company of Shaktida’s friends. Accordingly the ever-thoughtful Motida took the
decision to help a young man in dire need of guidance.
Motida made me write so very
frequently that many people, particularly peer players and sports journalists,
became quite jealous of me. I told him if I could go a little slow. He was
amazed, “Why? Are you not enjoying writing.” I told him the real reason. He
laughed, “Raju, do not worry about anybody. Why should their inferiority
complex bother you? You just keep writing as long as you enjoy writing. You
have to write a lot more.” He did not mention the reasons why I should write ‘a
lot more’ but added, “You have a natural flair in English. A spontaneous and
racy style, which I appreciate. Never try to copy anyone. You don’t need to.”
After I had produced some very hard-hitting
articles on cricket issues, Motida remarked, “Excellent. This is exactly what I
expect from you. But always remember you have a pen in hand. The person you are
writing about is unarmed and cannot hit you back. Never, never praise or attack
anyone because of personal reasons. ” This is the kind of guidance Motida
blessed me with.
Once after I had written 2 articles
in one day, he asked me to produce another. I told him, “Am I not over-doing
it?” He answered, “Certainly not. You have to keep writing on cricket till your
last breath. This is the difference between you and others.” It seemed he never
found any weakness in me!
Another time around 11 in the evening
when I was sleeping soundly, the phone rang. From the other end Motida’s voice
was distinct, “Raju, write an obituary on Dattu Phadkar now. He expired just a
few hours back. I want the obit in tomorrow’s page. The ABP car will reach you
in 20 minutes. Give the article to the driver. Do not keep him waiting. I am
staying back at the office for the article.” I mumbled, “Am I the right person
to write on Dattubhai?” He just uttered, “I know whom I have asked,” and put
the receiver down. Can one imagine a celebrity sports-editor waiting for an
article from a novice at midnight?
Next day Shantipriyo Bandyopadhyay,
then the sports editor of Jugantar,
phoned me, “Raju, an outstanding obit. By the way, when did you write it?” When
I told him about Motida’s 11 pm command, Shantida said, “Moti really knows his
man.”
Motida never liked sportsmen to
write. Always maintained, “Most of them do not know what to write. In any case
they do not write themselves. They utter a few irrelevant comments and the
sports desk has to make a big story out of it. Apart from one or two, others
write rubbish!”
Motida was always very categorical
and frank. He had no time to impress or to flatter. He would be brutally
forthright no matter the scenario. No respecter of the undeserving and lacking
tact, Moti Nandi always vehemently maintained, even at public gatherings, much
to my embarrassment, “Apart from Gavaskar and Raju, I do not find reading articles
by other cricketers worthwhile!”
He could be very firm in his views,
“When one goes through Charles Fry, Learie Constantine, Don Bradman and Jack
Fingleton of the pre-war period and then in the later decades Frank Worrel,
Richie Benaud, Geoff Boycott and Mike Brearley one gets to realize the huge
difference with the rest of cricketers-turned-writers.” For his very straight
opinions, he was disliked – of course, behind closed doors – by his local
contemporaries.
Apart from Neville Cardus, his
favourite author was the Caribbean author CLR James, “Raju, your suggested book
Beyond a Boundary opened my eyes to
the fascinating socio-economic world of cricket. Earlier I preferred Cardus for
his literary flavor. Even as a reporter Cardus did not report very accurately.
He used to write in a trance with literature and characterization in full flow.
But James brought in a different dimension to cricket writing. Now my
favourites are Cardus and James. I owe you a debt.” So very typical of a
well-rounded personality. Extremely fearless and generous, he suffered from
neither superiority complex nor inferiority. He had no hesitation in
acknowledging his gratitude to people who were nowhere near him in comparison.
Another issue he hated was taking
quotes from players and administrators. “Why? Why should we ask them for quotes
if we have our own journalist at the venue? If the journalist cannot think by
himself and produce a worthwhile piece, then why is he there at all? Is he a
courier or what? The quotes of players and administrators are invariably biased
and full of irrelevant nonsense.”
Motida was vehemently against the
idea of giving ‘honorary doctorates’ to people, “Why should prominent people,
including industrialists, musicians, authors and sportsmen, be given honorary
doctorate titles, I fail to understand.” He quite rightly thought that unless
one went through the discipline and system of acquiring an academic doctorate
degree, he should not be offered one.
Dear readers, please note that Rahul
Dravid happened to be among those exceptional individuals who refused to accept
the ‘honorary doctorate’ title conferred on them.
Motida admired his contemporaries
Rajan Bala, Kishore Bhimani and KN Prabhu but was adamant, “Why do they ‘ghost’
books for others? Just because they are paid huge sums of money to become
ghost-writers?”
It is true that these very prominent
authors invariably ‘ghosted’ for others. Motida was extremely stern, “If a
person cannot write himself, it is not another man’s job to write on his
behalf. Why should an author become a proxy on behalf of a parasite?” Strong
words but very true, no doubt. But, to be honest, cricketers are known to be very
stingy! Did they “really pay huge sum of money” to their ‘ghosts-writers’? I
doubt it.
Moti Nandi would not accept gifts or
invitations from anyone, either organizers or players. This was the image that
set him apart. For a vernacular daily sports journalist to get the kind of
respect Motida received around the country was nothing short of a miracle. They
all would come and pay their respects to him.
I remember Dicky Rutnagur – a widely acclaimed
senior Indian journalist – once saying, “Moti, with a famous novelist like you
in the Press enclosure, our status goes up. We feel honoured by your presence.”
Never heard of such a reaction for any other sports journalist. Sundar Rajan,
Wadhwaney, KN Prabhu and Rajan Bala – doyen among sports journalists – too had
the highest regard for his knowledge, analyses and principles.
On another occasion at our terrace we
had a small party of journalists who had come to Calcutta to cover a Test
match. Motida as usual was on time. The late-comers as soon as they entered and
saw Motida waiting apologized for getting delayed! Marathi writer and prominent
author Bal Karmakar told all those present that translation of Motida’s
sports-fiction were bestsellers in Maharashtra. Wonder if any other vernacular
sports writer can come close to such popularity.
He knew the art of converting an
ordinary subject into an object of curiosity. He knew the art of gripping the
readers’ attention. He always kept his
backbone firm and straight. He always maintained, “The way the media personnel
are going about, our credibility and integrity will suffer in the years to
come.” What a visionary he was! How did he visualize the contemporary scenario
almost 40 years back?
He was a fearless journalist. He
still remains among the foremost of short-story writers in the Bengali
language. His books have been translated into many different languages and he
has earned great renown. But till the last day of his life he remained an
epitome of virtue.
To me, however, primarily he will
always remain my affectionate teacher. The man who helped me to put pen to
paper. The man who encouraged me to stick to my individuality. The man who gave
me courage and confidence. Most importantly, he gave me genuine affection and
guidance.
The great author even had the
magnanimity to dedicate a book of his in my name! The book is a biography of
Sir Donald Bradman. This is certainly among the highest honour I ever hope to
achieve. I must be the luckiest man in the world to earn such unconditional
love from my teacher!
Motida, pronam neben.
