The demise of Richie Benaud brings back memories of a vintage flavour of cricket. Always a moderniser of the game, the man who had the most distinctive and authoritative voice on cricket, however, never claimed that cricket was better in his time.
Benaud became popular in our early days through the social and collective viewing of highlights of foreign tours of the Indian side. Television sets were yet to graduate to the level of being products of mass consumption then and the ordinary others would flock into the living rooms of a lucky few to have a glimpse of how the foreign turfs and the cricket watchers looked like, besides the match.
If Benaud's voice was that of cricket itself then the lanky man sporting the white coat, Dickie Bird was the conscience keeper of the game. The gentleman's game was yet to be commercialised and its flavour was more of merrymaking than moneymaking.
The flamboyant elegance of Tony Greig, who kneeled down before a full packed Eden Gardens in 1977 to appease a crowd rendered restless by the home side's disastrous performance against the MCC, is a far cry in this age of cut throat competition and stress, when every action has a commercial value attached to it. So is the orthodox spin bowling by the likes of Derek Underwood and Bishen Bedi, when the bowler would have the luxury of experimenting with the turns and the flights despite being punished to the ropes.
Cricket has become more instantaneous these days and the five-day carnival called test matches are like the vintage car rallies. Like the English summers the Indian winters then were a time for holidaying, to relax and sink into laziness, and cricket was the vehicle to transport one from the reality to the dream world of fantasy and romanticism.
When Pakistan was touring England in 2001, I came across an English farmer from Essex who has to his credit the rare privilege of watching all first class and test matches being played at the Lord's since 1961. Having a bite of his cheese and cucumber sandwich, an English delight and is also allegedly liked by the Queen, and sipping his Sherry, the middle-aged farmer told me how he picked up this trait from his forefathers and wanted to carry it on till he went to the grave. His son, however, was more into the shorter format of the game, he told me. A generational thing, some would suppose.
Despite our fantasy with the yesteryears, it would be unfair to infer that cricket was better in the bygone days, especially on a day when a moderniser to the core Richie Benaud said good bye to his viewers for the last time.
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
Thursday
End of a dream
My waking up early in the day and keeping me awake till the middle of the night to watch the highlights and post-match analyses all turned in vain. After the disastrous show in Australia and the tri-series, I never expected India to be a strength to reckon with as the world cup kicked off.
The first victory against Pakistan was the game changer. I deliberately use the word ‘victory’. In sports it’s more of a win except for when India is taking on Pakistan. In love and war every encounter is a battle and for the triumphant it is a victory and not a mere win.
The victory against Pakistan lured me to the world cup. I subscribed to the Sky Sports channels, dug out statistics from the websites, read and watched expert comments and more than anything else prayed for the boys. The boys in blue! Our boys in blue!
The first time India clinched the world cup in 1983, they were nothing more than a minnow. Starting as an underdog their opener against the W’Indies was the turnaround. Then Kapil Dev’s hurricane innings of 175 followed, and the rest is history.
Just before the half-yearly exam in our residential school, we were given a glimpse to watch the Indian innings. With 183 on the board, the West Indians were more than sure to clinch the title for the third time in a row. As we huddled in our rooms for self-study the joyous roar from outside the school campus at regular intervals made us aware that history was in the making.
As Jimmy Amarnath clinched the last West Indian wicket a few of us simply gate-crashed into the room of one of our wardens Nirmal Mirani who was listening to the commentary on the radio.
Cricket then was a delicacy not a staple entertainment. The winter vacations were marked with no studies as the annual exams were over, visiting places of interest, Christmas cakes, oranges, the Bengali delicacy of Joynagar-er Moa and Nalen Gur-er Sandesh, and of course the festival of cricket. Almost every year one or the other team would play a test match during the winter vacation in Kolkata.
Not anymore!
Cricket now has turned out to be a power play than a source of pure pleasure and entertainment. India with its cricket-crazy market is dominating not necessarily the art of the game but the business and politics of cricket.
The world cup victory of 1983 was a turnaround for Indian cricket though. The victories in Asia Cup, Benson Hedges Cup were bright reminders that India had arrived on the world stage.
The semi-final exit in the 1987 world cup turned out to be a dampener. I remember Kolkata, which was longing to host India in the final, was heartbroken after the hosts lost to England in the semi-final at Mumbai.
The overdose of cricket created an apathy in me. The economists refer to it as diminishing marginal utility. The experience at the Wanderers in 2003, very similar to the one at the Sydney Cricket Ground today, made me promise to myself not to watch cricket anymore. It was kept until India was playing Sri Lanka in the final of the 2011 world cup.
I was at a dance show of my daughter at the Paul Robson Theatre in Hounslow, and the brilliant performance of the Indians tempted me to occasionally skip the performance and glance at my mobile to check the scores. The win at Mumbai was a consolation after the drubbing at 2003 and the unceremonious exit in 2007.
Since 2012, India has been performing miserably in all forms of the game and I had no expectation from the men in blue after watching India play England in the last summer. Yet the victory against Pakistan and the wins that followed aroused a glimmer of hope. I started believing that Dhoni and his boys are going to make it. The dream run of winning seven consecutive matches, clinching all ten wickets in every encounter made me feel that despite taking on Australia in the semi-final India will make it.
That dream is dashed and the hope strangulated!
Also on cricket:
Partition imagery on cricket
MSD defined a new India
Cricket, corruption & configuration of power relations
Custodian of decency and determination
That was more than cricket
Street cricket comes to London
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
The first victory against Pakistan was the game changer. I deliberately use the word ‘victory’. In sports it’s more of a win except for when India is taking on Pakistan. In love and war every encounter is a battle and for the triumphant it is a victory and not a mere win.
The victory against Pakistan lured me to the world cup. I subscribed to the Sky Sports channels, dug out statistics from the websites, read and watched expert comments and more than anything else prayed for the boys. The boys in blue! Our boys in blue!
The first time India clinched the world cup in 1983, they were nothing more than a minnow. Starting as an underdog their opener against the W’Indies was the turnaround. Then Kapil Dev’s hurricane innings of 175 followed, and the rest is history.
Just before the half-yearly exam in our residential school, we were given a glimpse to watch the Indian innings. With 183 on the board, the West Indians were more than sure to clinch the title for the third time in a row. As we huddled in our rooms for self-study the joyous roar from outside the school campus at regular intervals made us aware that history was in the making.
As Jimmy Amarnath clinched the last West Indian wicket a few of us simply gate-crashed into the room of one of our wardens Nirmal Mirani who was listening to the commentary on the radio.
Cricket then was a delicacy not a staple entertainment. The winter vacations were marked with no studies as the annual exams were over, visiting places of interest, Christmas cakes, oranges, the Bengali delicacy of Joynagar-er Moa and Nalen Gur-er Sandesh, and of course the festival of cricket. Almost every year one or the other team would play a test match during the winter vacation in Kolkata.
Not anymore!
Cricket now has turned out to be a power play than a source of pure pleasure and entertainment. India with its cricket-crazy market is dominating not necessarily the art of the game but the business and politics of cricket.
The world cup victory of 1983 was a turnaround for Indian cricket though. The victories in Asia Cup, Benson Hedges Cup were bright reminders that India had arrived on the world stage.
The semi-final exit in the 1987 world cup turned out to be a dampener. I remember Kolkata, which was longing to host India in the final, was heartbroken after the hosts lost to England in the semi-final at Mumbai.
The overdose of cricket created an apathy in me. The economists refer to it as diminishing marginal utility. The experience at the Wanderers in 2003, very similar to the one at the Sydney Cricket Ground today, made me promise to myself not to watch cricket anymore. It was kept until India was playing Sri Lanka in the final of the 2011 world cup.
I was at a dance show of my daughter at the Paul Robson Theatre in Hounslow, and the brilliant performance of the Indians tempted me to occasionally skip the performance and glance at my mobile to check the scores. The win at Mumbai was a consolation after the drubbing at 2003 and the unceremonious exit in 2007.
Since 2012, India has been performing miserably in all forms of the game and I had no expectation from the men in blue after watching India play England in the last summer. Yet the victory against Pakistan and the wins that followed aroused a glimmer of hope. I started believing that Dhoni and his boys are going to make it. The dream run of winning seven consecutive matches, clinching all ten wickets in every encounter made me feel that despite taking on Australia in the semi-final India will make it.
That dream is dashed and the hope strangulated!
Also on cricket:
Partition imagery on cricket
MSD defined a new India
Cricket, corruption & configuration of power relations
Custodian of decency and determination
That was more than cricket
Street cricket comes to London
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
Monday
Partition imagery on cricket
One of the "spoils of partition" - I borrow the term from Cambridge historian Joya Chatterji - of 1947 is the deep-rooted animosity and suspicion between the neighbours. The two republics carved out of an undivided country may have fought at least four proclaimed wars, but every time India takes on Pakistan on the cricket turf it is a battle of sorts. On both sides of the Line of Actual Control, and extending till the furthest point of their geographical territories, citizens are taught, "play the game in the spirit of the game but when it is up against Pakistan (and India) bring out the choicest of ammunition to fight a war."
"Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play," once observed George Orwell and both the Indians and the Pakistanis resort to this Orwellian belief when it comes to playing cricket against each other. I wonder if the same madness is prevalent when the two sides taken on each other in hockey. The media often describes them as arch-rivals, probably mindful of the fact that it is not only a cliché but also too simplistic a term to encapsulate the complexities that engulf the neighbourly relationship.
Social historian Ramchandra Guha in a lecture delivered at the London School of Economics a couple of years ago had blamed India's lack of unimpeachable leadership in South Asia as the biggest detriment to making her way to the high table of global diplomacy. Over six decades after emerging as a nation in its present form, India may quite rightfully aspire to be a global leader, but when it comes to Pakistan she can hardly keep herself away from the provocation and the cacophony of the slanging match. Fighting and trouncing Pakistan in every game is still alike the brawl between two warring children.
During the regime of Atal Behari Vajpayee, when India was publicly cosying-up with the US, the dominant discourse of Indian diplomacy was one of moving beyond Pakistan. There were visible signs of India not getting entrapped in each and every action of its unfriendly neighbour, but when it came to crunch time the Indian leadership either succumbed to the Pakistani pressure or crumbled because of internal compulsions or used Pakistan as a tool to sensationalise domestic politics for short term gains.
The Pakistani leadership on its part has failed its people and lived to the tradition of a rogue state born out of a "flawed ideology". Export of terror, the inability to look beyond India and trying to jeopardise each and every of her moves have tied the very existence of Pakistan to the specifications of India.
More than a decade and half ago, thanks to my former colleague Manab Majumder - a cricket aficionado himself all his life till he passed away a couple of years ago, I had a chance to share my thoughts on the India-Pakistan animosity with former Pakistani cricket captain Asif Iqbal at Lord's - the altar of cricket. He couldn't see any reason apart from stating history as the basis behind the relationship based on suspicion. I remember Asif Iqbal ending his conversation, in the glass-walled life members' enclosure of the MCC, by stating that "at the individual level we are still friends. The Indian and Pakistani cricketers are good friends."
I heard similar reaffirmation of friendship from people on both sides of the border, ranging from diplomats, journalists, politicians, writers, the civil society and above all the ordinary citizens. If nation is a collective of its people, how come individual friendships do not add up to national friendliness!
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
"Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play," once observed George Orwell and both the Indians and the Pakistanis resort to this Orwellian belief when it comes to playing cricket against each other. I wonder if the same madness is prevalent when the two sides taken on each other in hockey. The media often describes them as arch-rivals, probably mindful of the fact that it is not only a cliché but also too simplistic a term to encapsulate the complexities that engulf the neighbourly relationship.
Social historian Ramchandra Guha in a lecture delivered at the London School of Economics a couple of years ago had blamed India's lack of unimpeachable leadership in South Asia as the biggest detriment to making her way to the high table of global diplomacy. Over six decades after emerging as a nation in its present form, India may quite rightfully aspire to be a global leader, but when it comes to Pakistan she can hardly keep herself away from the provocation and the cacophony of the slanging match. Fighting and trouncing Pakistan in every game is still alike the brawl between two warring children.
During the regime of Atal Behari Vajpayee, when India was publicly cosying-up with the US, the dominant discourse of Indian diplomacy was one of moving beyond Pakistan. There were visible signs of India not getting entrapped in each and every action of its unfriendly neighbour, but when it came to crunch time the Indian leadership either succumbed to the Pakistani pressure or crumbled because of internal compulsions or used Pakistan as a tool to sensationalise domestic politics for short term gains.
The Pakistani leadership on its part has failed its people and lived to the tradition of a rogue state born out of a "flawed ideology". Export of terror, the inability to look beyond India and trying to jeopardise each and every of her moves have tied the very existence of Pakistan to the specifications of India.
More than a decade and half ago, thanks to my former colleague Manab Majumder - a cricket aficionado himself all his life till he passed away a couple of years ago, I had a chance to share my thoughts on the India-Pakistan animosity with former Pakistani cricket captain Asif Iqbal at Lord's - the altar of cricket. He couldn't see any reason apart from stating history as the basis behind the relationship based on suspicion. I remember Asif Iqbal ending his conversation, in the glass-walled life members' enclosure of the MCC, by stating that "at the individual level we are still friends. The Indian and Pakistani cricketers are good friends."
I heard similar reaffirmation of friendship from people on both sides of the border, ranging from diplomats, journalists, politicians, writers, the civil society and above all the ordinary citizens. If nation is a collective of its people, how come individual friendships do not add up to national friendliness!
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
Sunday
Delhi Tales: Romanticising politics & story-telling commentators
Delhi has always been an enigma to me - an intense interest that is extremely difficult to overlook. The first time I landed in Delhi in 1995 after putting in my papers at the Financial Express and not to return to journalism again, I could hardly resist the temptation of visiting The Hindustan Times office at the Kasturba Gandhi Marg to handover a resume to Dr Chandan Mitra, then its Executive Editor. Dr Mitra, then a firebrand journalist delving between political reporting and speaking out his mind on any issue be it a personal tribute to Salil Chowdhury.
He suggested that I see A K Bhattacharya of The Pioneer at the Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, Delhi's equivalent to the Fleet Street. As I popped in at the swanky office of The Pioneer, I first came across Paranjay Guha Thakurta, with his ponytail brand. Visit to The Express Building around the same road near ITO the next day to collect an unpaid cheque was equally exciting.
About six months later, when I was employed by the Press Trust of India - PTI in Delhi, walking in its Parliament Street office was like living a childhood dream of coexisting with the reverberations of unfolding politics in the national capital. Every day, a Greenline DTC bus dropped me either around the Parliament Building or some government office along the Raisina Road or the Rafi Marg, which housed the INS Building, as I walked to work.
Inside the PTI office, I would gaze in reverential silence as senior journalists covering Parliament, important departments and ministries dictated copies to make sure that we were ahead of time, and the aspiring journalist in me waited for an opportunity to cover a political event, be it ceremonial or of lesser importance.
First, I was assigned to cover a tea-party hosted by the then Vice President K R Narayanan at his residence in New Delhi's Maulana Azad Road to welcome some young bravehearts ahead of the Republic Day. A few months later, PTI's then chief reporter Amitabha Roy Chowdhury deputed me to cover a presser of the Communist patriarch Jyoti Basu at Banga Bhavan in New Delhi's upmarket Hailey Road. Being from Kolkata, no political assignment could be more self-gratifying than covering a press conference hosted by the then Bengali chief minister, but Amitabha Da would soon diffuse the tension, and with it the excitement, by stating that Basu might be one of the tallest leaders in Bengal but in the national capital he was one of the many chief ministers.
The South Indian canteen at the INS Building on Rafi Marg was portrayal of a mini-India, as journalists from all over the country trooped in after a day of hard work to share a moment or two before filing stories, demonstrating fiesty journalism. It was there that I came across many journalists who would later become my interviewees during the BBC days in London.
Soumya Bandyopadhyay, Suman Chattopadhyay, Jayanta Ghosal, Chandan Mitra, Ajay Bose, Diptosh Majumdar, Swapan Dasgupta, Nitya Chakraborty, M J Akbar - all narrating stories of an India that was transforming with every passing day and in remarkable speed. Coalition of multiple shades was then teasing India's polity and the political experimentation that went beyond the conventional mould of anti-Congressism gaining ground. The rise of the Hindu nationalists and the reinforcement of identity politics alongside the success story of the national economy, coupled with the exponential growth of the service sector rendered the Indian narrative to a description that probably could be best encapsulated by the term dualism - the co-existance of traditionalism and the modernity.
Then there were the likes of the late Nikhil Chakraborty and later his son Sumit Chakraborty, Bhabani Sengupta, Dipankar Gupta, Amitabh Kundu, Asish Nandy - who religiously held the time tested frameworks and parametres of political and economic analyses rather than allowing them to go haywire.
Stains of post-ideology and nihilism were gradually entrenching themselves in Indian polity but it was a defining moment in India's political and economic history. The excitement and euphoria of a romanticised polity, in line with the global ascent of Neoliberalism and an aspirational society, was not without its share of pain, hesitancy, scepticism and doubt. Nontheless the narrative of a new India unfolded with its many shades of grey. The story of the euphoric excitement lives with the memory of the story-tellers.
The news of the passing away of Diptosh Da (Majumdar) reignited the memory but not without its share of sadness.
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
He suggested that I see A K Bhattacharya of The Pioneer at the Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, Delhi's equivalent to the Fleet Street. As I popped in at the swanky office of The Pioneer, I first came across Paranjay Guha Thakurta, with his ponytail brand. Visit to The Express Building around the same road near ITO the next day to collect an unpaid cheque was equally exciting.
About six months later, when I was employed by the Press Trust of India - PTI in Delhi, walking in its Parliament Street office was like living a childhood dream of coexisting with the reverberations of unfolding politics in the national capital. Every day, a Greenline DTC bus dropped me either around the Parliament Building or some government office along the Raisina Road or the Rafi Marg, which housed the INS Building, as I walked to work.
Inside the PTI office, I would gaze in reverential silence as senior journalists covering Parliament, important departments and ministries dictated copies to make sure that we were ahead of time, and the aspiring journalist in me waited for an opportunity to cover a political event, be it ceremonial or of lesser importance.
First, I was assigned to cover a tea-party hosted by the then Vice President K R Narayanan at his residence in New Delhi's Maulana Azad Road to welcome some young bravehearts ahead of the Republic Day. A few months later, PTI's then chief reporter Amitabha Roy Chowdhury deputed me to cover a presser of the Communist patriarch Jyoti Basu at Banga Bhavan in New Delhi's upmarket Hailey Road. Being from Kolkata, no political assignment could be more self-gratifying than covering a press conference hosted by the then Bengali chief minister, but Amitabha Da would soon diffuse the tension, and with it the excitement, by stating that Basu might be one of the tallest leaders in Bengal but in the national capital he was one of the many chief ministers.
The South Indian canteen at the INS Building on Rafi Marg was portrayal of a mini-India, as journalists from all over the country trooped in after a day of hard work to share a moment or two before filing stories, demonstrating fiesty journalism. It was there that I came across many journalists who would later become my interviewees during the BBC days in London.
Soumya Bandyopadhyay, Suman Chattopadhyay, Jayanta Ghosal, Chandan Mitra, Ajay Bose, Diptosh Majumdar, Swapan Dasgupta, Nitya Chakraborty, M J Akbar - all narrating stories of an India that was transforming with every passing day and in remarkable speed. Coalition of multiple shades was then teasing India's polity and the political experimentation that went beyond the conventional mould of anti-Congressism gaining ground. The rise of the Hindu nationalists and the reinforcement of identity politics alongside the success story of the national economy, coupled with the exponential growth of the service sector rendered the Indian narrative to a description that probably could be best encapsulated by the term dualism - the co-existance of traditionalism and the modernity.
Then there were the likes of the late Nikhil Chakraborty and later his son Sumit Chakraborty, Bhabani Sengupta, Dipankar Gupta, Amitabh Kundu, Asish Nandy - who religiously held the time tested frameworks and parametres of political and economic analyses rather than allowing them to go haywire.
Stains of post-ideology and nihilism were gradually entrenching themselves in Indian polity but it was a defining moment in India's political and economic history. The excitement and euphoria of a romanticised polity, in line with the global ascent of Neoliberalism and an aspirational society, was not without its share of pain, hesitancy, scepticism and doubt. Nontheless the narrative of a new India unfolded with its many shades of grey. The story of the euphoric excitement lives with the memory of the story-tellers.
The news of the passing away of Diptosh Da (Majumdar) reignited the memory but not without its share of sadness.
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
Wednesday
MSD defined a new India
The sudden announcement of Mahendra Singh Dhoni's retirement from test cricket might have surprised many, but it was not entirely unexpected. The wicketkeeper-batsman was struggling with ideas, so essential in a mind game like cricket, especially on foreign tours. The thrashing faced by Dhoni's India against England and Australia only proved that his team was no longer the unchallenged leader in all forms of the game.
The retirement of MSD from test cricket is fuelled by his deep desire to concentrate on the shorter forms of the game. As the defending champion, he wants to lead India to the 2015 World Cup due in Australia and New Zealand. India is going to host the T20 World Cup in 2016 and it is perfectly natural on the part MSD to nurture the ambition of lifting the World Cup in two forms of the game (after 2011 World Cup) at home, and thereby avenge India's defeat against Sri Lanka in 2014.
So, it's a long way to go before the cricket commentators and observers of the game jot down a few points to write MSD's cricketing obituary and delve on his legacy in Indian Cricket.
As the skipper of the World Cup winning Indian cricket team Dhoni will always have a special place not only in India's cricketing history but also in the narrative of contemporary India. In fact, leading India to world cup victories in two forms of the game makes him even more special.
If Kapil Dev's India, by winning the 1983 World Cup, marked India's arrival at the centrestage of world cricket, and players like Sunil Gavaskar, Mohinder Amarnath and Dilip Vengsarkar did the groundwork for the consolidation of its position, then maestros like Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly, Rahul Dravid, Anil Kumble and VVS Laxman are credited with stamping India's position of authority not only on the ground but also off the turf.
From that point of view, MSD's main task was cut out to sustain India's predominance in all forms of the game and take it even further. As arguably India's most successful cricket captain, at least statistically, MSD has succeeded in achieving his objective definitely in the shorter forms of the game. His test records are not as impressive, actually abysmal especially on foreign turfs.
These are feats which catch ones eye. But even before MSD touched the zenith in his remarkable journey in the world of cricket, he achieved something which transformed not only the face of India but also its texture.
All the names which shot into fame in Indian cricket are mostly urban phenomena, coming from metropolitan cities. Not that MSD was the first Indian cricketer from a small town to represent India in the highest form of the game, but he undoubtedly manifested a sense of assertion, not only as a leader but also as an actor in the cricketing play, hitherto unseen outside the confines of bigger cities. In that sense, MSD marks the fruition of a new India that goes beyond the realm of the urban space.
MSD's elevation as the captain of the Indian side has inspired many in smaller towns, suburbs and even villages to dream big. Not that all of them flocked to cricket but some of them definitely embarked on remarkable journeys to shape their ambition and fulfill personal aspirations to grow much beyond the place they come from.
The rise of cricketers like Umesh Yadav and Bhuvaneshwar Kumar , and the launch of Indian Grameen Cricket League (IGCL) are ample indicators that there is enough appetite for the game in the rural heartland of India. People coming from modest backgrounds are not daunted by the fact that cricket is essentially an expensive game and that the youth are inspired by India being the powerhouse of world cricket. The use of cricket as a tool to fulfill aspiration is not only ensuring equity but also manifesting itself as a form of empowerment.
The gentleman's game which once defined social hierarchy is now being cherished by the ordinary, and even the subaltern, to break through the class consciousness of the society.
Also on cricket:
Cricket, corruption & configuration of power relations
Custodian of decency and determination
That was more than cricket
Street cricket comes to London
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media commentator.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
The retirement of MSD from test cricket is fuelled by his deep desire to concentrate on the shorter forms of the game. As the defending champion, he wants to lead India to the 2015 World Cup due in Australia and New Zealand. India is going to host the T20 World Cup in 2016 and it is perfectly natural on the part MSD to nurture the ambition of lifting the World Cup in two forms of the game (after 2011 World Cup) at home, and thereby avenge India's defeat against Sri Lanka in 2014.
So, it's a long way to go before the cricket commentators and observers of the game jot down a few points to write MSD's cricketing obituary and delve on his legacy in Indian Cricket.
As the skipper of the World Cup winning Indian cricket team Dhoni will always have a special place not only in India's cricketing history but also in the narrative of contemporary India. In fact, leading India to world cup victories in two forms of the game makes him even more special.
If Kapil Dev's India, by winning the 1983 World Cup, marked India's arrival at the centrestage of world cricket, and players like Sunil Gavaskar, Mohinder Amarnath and Dilip Vengsarkar did the groundwork for the consolidation of its position, then maestros like Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly, Rahul Dravid, Anil Kumble and VVS Laxman are credited with stamping India's position of authority not only on the ground but also off the turf.
From that point of view, MSD's main task was cut out to sustain India's predominance in all forms of the game and take it even further. As arguably India's most successful cricket captain, at least statistically, MSD has succeeded in achieving his objective definitely in the shorter forms of the game. His test records are not as impressive, actually abysmal especially on foreign turfs.
These are feats which catch ones eye. But even before MSD touched the zenith in his remarkable journey in the world of cricket, he achieved something which transformed not only the face of India but also its texture.
All the names which shot into fame in Indian cricket are mostly urban phenomena, coming from metropolitan cities. Not that MSD was the first Indian cricketer from a small town to represent India in the highest form of the game, but he undoubtedly manifested a sense of assertion, not only as a leader but also as an actor in the cricketing play, hitherto unseen outside the confines of bigger cities. In that sense, MSD marks the fruition of a new India that goes beyond the realm of the urban space.
MSD's elevation as the captain of the Indian side has inspired many in smaller towns, suburbs and even villages to dream big. Not that all of them flocked to cricket but some of them definitely embarked on remarkable journeys to shape their ambition and fulfill personal aspirations to grow much beyond the place they come from.
The rise of cricketers like Umesh Yadav and Bhuvaneshwar Kumar , and the launch of Indian Grameen Cricket League (IGCL) are ample indicators that there is enough appetite for the game in the rural heartland of India. People coming from modest backgrounds are not daunted by the fact that cricket is essentially an expensive game and that the youth are inspired by India being the powerhouse of world cricket. The use of cricket as a tool to fulfill aspiration is not only ensuring equity but also manifesting itself as a form of empowerment.
The gentleman's game which once defined social hierarchy is now being cherished by the ordinary, and even the subaltern, to break through the class consciousness of the society.
Also on cricket:
Cricket, corruption & configuration of power relations
Custodian of decency and determination
That was more than cricket
Street cricket comes to London
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media commentator.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
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