A rendezevous with Indian Cricket

A rendezvous with Indian cricket

I was not born to be a cricketer. Who knew it better than me? But I didn’t like others to tell me that. Okay, I had an unusual longing and passion for cricket. I’d stay outdoor for hours playing cricket and would come back home and do the same to the dislike of the inmates. They insisted life is like cricket. You miss out once, you miss out forever.

To speak not in the favour of my game, its market value and my talent in it was like playing flute to woo a buffalo. I was in love with the game. I was in perfect command over my ground of confidence in the game and me in the game. Kids dream and I was normal. I’d visualize myself holding aloft the willow with the maximum tons on the podium of international cricket. Everything was fine until the transformation to teenage arrived bringing forth the pressure to choose- cricket or career. I wasn’t one of the best scorers in the annual exams but whatever I attained was reasonable to me. The expectations were more though. How often has one heard of kids cracking under peer pressure? I was one of those meek lambs who often go wild and tend to break free. I chose- cricket was the one word. I became crazier than ever before, much more purposeful, sincere and hour-giving. My peers gave me my course and it was cricket. For I was immature, egoistic, stubborn, arrogant and a hot-headed determined harsh sounding brat. I went for something which people thought I am not good enough for and here started a story which to me is a saga not knowing what crap it may be to others.

I was fourteen years old when someone very close to me said I don’t look a sachin tendulkar. There were some who laughed the matter out as elders proud of their experience, maturity and achievements over a miniscule, unsmart, modest prospect. A kid deserves to be heard especially if he has ideas. I didn’t even get a hearing. I had immense respect for a player like Sachin tendulkar but I was human hence jealous. I was a crap cricketer at that time and to make a decision to take on the best in the world was ridiculous, kiddish and slap-minded. But I had my own philosophy which spoke highly of the possible notion. What happened thereafter are all print and nothing else.

We belonged to Ranchi but my parents worked at Hazaribag, a small town in the north of Jharkhand. I got selected in the Hazaribag playing fourteen for the Shyamal sinha Inter-district cricket championships but missed out since I was not to be allowed to travel to Tatanagar, a nearby town all alone. My parents cared too much for me .So I had to wait until my dad saw me in newspapers. Club cricket is pretty popular in Hazaribag, it being a small town. As a fifteen year kid, I was the youngest of blokes in the all senior and hence purpose sans Chanakya Cricket Club. It was a B-grade side and didn’t make it past the super league in the seasonal district league. My performances were mediocre but influence on the press reporter was gushy. That boiling July, Hazaribag hosted the Inter district under- 16 cricket championships for the first time in history and Ishan Mukherjee faced the first ball of the tournament. I missed the ball until a spanking cover drive fetched me four runs. Katihar were a strong side but we emerged stronger. I knocked 32 and was pleased at the end of the day. The win booked us an entry into the last sixteen where Gaya ran over us as if an Atlanta. I hardly got anything to do and my first big tournament was over in a whisker.

I took this championship as a stepping stone to a great career and my life suddenly took a n about turn. Our mind is the pilot of our lives and mine had got completely soaked with cricket. Practicing low and vertical backlifts, straight drives, soft hands, hanging ball hitting the good length became a mission. For a boy who had never witnessed the rising sun except mahalayas had started seeing it red. I ‘d long for company in the huge stadium as I was the only one to beat its soil with 800 meters of running, stretch exercises followed by a due package of 100 good length balls. I did count the good length balls and didn’t give up even on an off day. Sincerity is the key to success and an year of hard work completely transformed me into a person with discipline, few words, truthfulness and concentration. I never went to college or tuitions and my parents knew it. I had stopped meeting friends for I found them balloons and unlike me. I became a comprehensive and consistent performer for my district and club and in the process shocked my parents by dropping the intermediate exams. Anyways, I wasn’t a science dude as history and public administration were my sole love at academics. I switched over to arts and did a no-nonsense job next year as a private student but before that, I didn’t escape creating waves in the cricketing fraternity. Centuries flowed like shits do on a bad stomach day while local sticks got disturbed as a cab driver on a strike day. What was most amazing though were my acrobatics on the field. I could dive any length as long as I was in the point-cover region and pulled out catches with the ball whizzing. On my day, as a fielder, I was a treat to watch. Being the top run getter as well as the top wicket taker in the district league, I was an automatic selection into the Heman side. Heman trophy is to Bihar what Ranji trophy is to India. The selection of the Bihar Ranji side is based on the performances in the Heman trophy. So then, my eyes lit up and I could see a bit too much into it. I visualized the ladder- inter-club to inter- district, thereon to inter-state, thereon to international. It is a dream and yes, I had started dreaming maybe a little too quickly. I thought a good performance in the heman trophy should take me into state consideration. But it is never that simple. Hazaribag was placed in B-division in the Heman trophy and performances in the B-division are not considered by the state selection committee.

Anyways, getting selected to play in the Heman trophy is a matter of pride for any 16 year old and I carried that to Giridih, a small town nearby Hazaribag for our first game. We took on Chatra in the Lal Bahadur Shastri stadium and outclassed them by eight wickets. Batting first on a matting wicket was never going to be easy and Chatra were bowled out for 120 odd runs. I picked up three wickets and then made an unbeaten 16 comprising of a six over mid-wicket to finish the match. Next up, hosts Giridih proved to be too good for our technically misfit batsmen. There was not one batsman in the whole side who could play on the back foot. I made an unbeaten 33 out of the 106 runs we managed on the board. Giridih finished the match in style and our journey in the Heman trophy was over. It was a mixed experience but the one most important thing I learnt from my away tour was that staying in Hazaribag, I wasn’t going to make much ground in the world of my dreams. I pursued my mother to send me to Ranchi promising that I’d be sincere to studies and become a better person. Ranchi was my home and I had spent many confident years here basking under the autumn sun on the terrace of my hill view home with a bat in hand and a ball in the other. I joined St.Xavier’s College and soon after, the Sports authority of India Cricket Club. It was winter and my body was longing to go loose against the breeze. I was an off spinner with a tight side on action firmly gripping the ball and enhancing revolutions on it with my finger. In other words, I was a finger spinner who was more effective with the older ball. As a batsman, I was defensive who was yet to learn the art of playing the aggressive shots with the head down. I hated the leg spinners more than mathematics but here I found a coach who taught me the art to play the leg spinners. His name was Chanchal Bhattacharya and I loved him like a pie. He taught me the art to sweep illustriously rolling the wrists over at the last moment and hence keeping the ball towards the ground. The SAI club was very competitive and laid stress on each and every player. There was a code of discipline to maintain, work ethics and affection amongst the team members as well. The club was group of budding young cricketers who had made good name at the junior level. The SAI team was counted amongst the best of club teams in Ranchi and rated second only to teams like Mecon and CCL. I still remember those fantastic friends I had at the club, all talented in their own right. There was Anuj Horo from Gossner, Dheeraj Yadav a dropout, Mahendra Dhoni from HEC, Rajesh Roy, the wicketkeeper, and Amit Kumar the mimic. Everybody had nicknames and they called me “energy” for I was the shortest and swiftest of all of them.
Then there were the senior guys who weren’t senior enough to be playing cricket without purpose. One of them was Anshuman Raj , a university graduate and a peer player of the Ranji team. Having a Ranji player regularly at your nets is in itself an experience to relish. But in the start, things were not so smooth. Anshuman behaved ruthlessly with the juniors and I was one of them. He was an express bowler at the level we were playing and had a very lethal bouncer which often came in line with the body of the batsman. Despite of being athletic, I wasn’t comfortable on the back foot while batting and hated the short stuff from the quickies. Raj bhaiyaa, as we’d call him almost pelted me with bouncers whenever I stood on his face at the nets. I was that sort of a batsman who would thrash any ordinary bowling out of the leather but struggled for space in terms of quality bowling. Apart from a lethal bouncer, Anshuman, a 6’ guy had a sharp in cutter which he produced time and again to apply some pressure on the batsman. On the other hand I was a stroke player who wouldn’t hesitate to play away from the body and when probed in the off-stump channel‘d find my defense bothered. The season had started but not at the A-division level and since Anshuman spent the most amount of time at the nets being or best bowler, I had to sort out a way to handle him in order to make an impression in the club. I was new to SAI and every morning was a test .I had to prove all that they had heard about me and it commanded grind. For over a week, I spent hours and hours continuous straightening my back lift and improving my initial movements when a bowler ran into me. Sweat helped but it made me compact. I wasn’t the free flowing stroke maker anymore and the elegance was missing. But it made Anshuman sweat and the off cutters were now being done away with relative ease.

Chanchal Bhattacharya was not just our coach. He was a Bengali Brahmin by caste and hence had a soft corner for me, I being one myself. He noticed the change in my style and the defensive attitude as well. One morning whilst I was packing up, he came over and said, “Dada, why don’t you resort to your old ways. It seems you are serious at cricket. If that is the case, then you won’t go anywhere defending bowlers like Anshuman Raj. He’s a bl***y reserve player in the Ranji side. You deserve better. Instead of changing your whole style, try to play horizontal bat shots. You are too much a straight bat player. One needs to be innovative to make strides in today’s competitive scenario. I hope you understand.”

I am a cool person normally but an attitude cricketer was I those days. But after putting some thought into it I decided to listen to someone who understood the game better than us. I was a good player of the late shots but thanks to an awry foot movement hesitated to apply them. My foot movement being well-organized now, I initialized playing the cut shots more regularly. Soon the square drives followed and some jealous eyes looked up. Anshuman Raj got spanked consistently and it promoted my batting position for the preliminary stage of the district league.

We took on Young Monarch, a known force in the season opening game at my school bus stop i.e. the Morabadi ground. They batted first and put on just one substantial partnership in the whole innings. But we gave away a bunchful of extras and padded up chasing 140-odd for victory. Surprisingly, MS Dhoni opened the innings with Sunil Kumar and both fell prey early to some channel bowling. The next move from Chanchal was yet another surprise. He sent Anshuman raj and me to stem the tide. Raj was an aggressive batsman but he played like a senior looking for loose balls to score. On the contrary, I played like a swashbuckling lower order batsman as if in a hurry to finish. It finished as Young Monarch’s old bowlers delivered loads of wide and byes to make our task simple. We won by eight wickets. Raj with 48 and I with 62 not out batted till the end. At the end of the innings, Raj started complaining that I denied him his fifty which was an untrue allegation. I pocketed hotel fifty bucks and was a proud man in the lobby that evening.

Those days, club cricket was a popular topic of gossip after girls in the college and the boys were updated through the newspapers. So next day, I walked into the college with a swelled chest. Appreciation made me prouder and susceptible to mistakes. It’s a famed proverb in the English, you don’t butter imitation or else it loses its color. I started attacking every ball and apart from a few good knocks, failed to spend enough time at the crease. The preliminary stage was over and I hardly too much to speak of except the odd fifties, three wicket hauls, splendid dives and stops and a few astonishing shots. Our team topped the points table with five victories out of six games, one being abandoned due to rain. M.S. Dhoni with the bat and Anshuman Raj with the ball were our star performers and that left me sagged and jealous. I hate being second to anyone and had to begin thinking about cricket from a new perspective. My college had to suffer as I frequented the grounds more often. Honestly, I was giving cricket a last try since I was not going to live in the shades of anyone. My state of mind at this point of time was fully focused on one object- batsman ship. I felt like a wandering angel in the morabadi woods who has set out to conquer an Everest. Cricket is that difficult if you hail from Bihar and yet want to transform to the likes of the Gavaskars and the Dravids. During the one month camp held at the Jaipal Singh Stadium of Ranchi, I had a total blast getting to play against the top talents of the region. I was a stroke maker and needed to be a bit more patient and choosy as far as playing better bowlers was concerned. That camp was memorable to me in more than one way. It gave me my first hundred and a surprise seven wicket haul as well. I captained a side for the first time and I carried all this into the super league. Thankfully, Raj had joined the Ranji team and every player in the side thought of himself as the captain. In our enco