WIZARDS

Anindya Dutta is an international banker who has spent the past two and a
half decades working in major financial markets—London, Hong Kong,
Mumbai and Singapore. Besides being a banker, Anindya is also deeply
interested in sports history and a sportswriter by vocation.
Anindya’s first book A Gentleman’s Game (2017) was followed by his
widely acclaimed and bestselling account of the greatest bowling spells in
the history of cricket—Spell Binding Spells (2017) His third book We are
the Invincibles, (2019) a fascinating account of Bradman’s 1948 team’s tour
of England also received critical acclaim.
Besides penning books, Anindya is also a columnist for Sportstar,
Hindustan Times, ESPN Cricinfo, Cricket Monthly, Cricket Soccer, Roar
and Fountain Ink.
Delicately maintaining his work-write balance—banker by day and
writer by night, Anindya lives in Singapore with his hugely supportive wife,
Anisha and canine daughter, Olu.
First published in Westland Sport, an imprint of Westland Publications
Private Limited in 2019

1st Floor, A Block, East Wing, Plot No. 40, SP Infocity, Dr MGR Salai,
Perungudi, Kandanchavadi, Chennai 600096

Westland Sport, the Westland Sport logo, Westland and the Westland logo
are the trademarks of Westland Publications Private Limited, or its
affiliates.

Copyright © Anindya Dutta, 2019

ISBN: 9789388754514
All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission
of the publisher.
This book is dedicated to the two Wizards in my life who make every living
moment magical—my wife Anisha and my canine daughter Olu
 Contents

Foreword
Introduction
SECTION 1
Palwankar Baloo
The Early Journey of Indian Spin
The Genius of Vinoo Mankad
Building a Tradition of Spin
Subhash Gupte
The Spin Trio
SECTION 2
Pataudi and the Blue Ocean of Spin
Together They Spun a Web Around the World Erapalli Prasanna
Together They Spun a Web Around the World Bhagwat Chandrasekhar
Together They Spun a Web Around the World Srinivas Venkataraghavan
Together They Spun a Web Around the World Bishan Singh Bedi
Unlucky Ones
SECTION 3
Dilip Doshi
Shivlal Yadav
Ravi Shastri
Maninder Singh and Laxman Sivaramakrishnan
When It Rains It Pours
Narendra Hirwani
Anil Kumble
Beyond Wrist-Spin
Harbhajan Singh ‘Turbanator’
The Breakthrough Wizards
Limited Overs, Unlimited Options
Ravichandran Ashwin
T20 and Emergence of a New Breed of Spinners
The Future Is in the Wrist
POWERPLAY
Spinners Cannot Be Captains?
Acknowledgements
Notes
Bibliography
Photographs
 Foreword

It’s always a pleasure to write a foreword for a book on cricket. I’ve played
the game with a passion and love it immensely, so when Anindya requested
me to write this, I agreed right away.
What an achievement it is to write a book detailing the long and rich
history of spinners in our country! Diligent research and evocative story
telling combine to make this book a truly compelling read.
I have had the rare honour of playing with the four spinning legends of
India—Bishan Singh Bedi, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar, Erapalli Prasanna and
Srinivas Venkataraghavan, so it was pleasant to discover a whole section of
the book devoted to them.
When I made my Test debut on the tour of Pakistan in 1978-79, the
four legends had carried the burden of expectations on their strong
shoulders for close to two decades. What had started during Tiger Pataudi’s
captaincy as an idea of packing the team with spinners in reaction to the
lack of fast bowling resources in the country, had become a full-fledged
‘spin strategy’.
The strategy had an unintended consequence. At all levels of the
game, youngsters wanted to emulate the great Indian spinners. There were
high class left-arm spinners in many teams and they took wickets by the
dozens in first-class cricket, but could not displace Bedi from the Test team.
There were Prasanna clones popping up in Ranji matches, but they were not
in the class of the genius. Worst of all, in all of Indian cricket, there were no
fast bowlers. Not in university cricket, not in club cricket, and certainly not
in the first-class game.
 When I came on to the scene, I was the first Indian bowler since the
legendary Amar Singh and Mohammad Nissar, to bowl consistently fast.
When I was picked to tour Pakistan, I was over the moon. Not only was my
dream to play for India coming true, I was bowling in tandem with the very
stylish and talented Karsan Ghavri, and also rubbing shoulders with the four
spin legends.
Bishan Singh Bedi was one of the most respected spinners in the
world, and also my captain on that first tour. Notwithstanding the mayhem
that the Pakistan batsmen caused on that tour, Bishan’s attitude as captain
and how he thought about the game, left a permanent impression on my
young mind. Bishan brought us all together. Like Tiger Pataudi before him,
Bishan was a great motivator and gave us the courage and the self
confidence that Indians could win against the best teams in the world.
While in Pakistan, it didn’t quite work out the way he would have
wished, but when he forfeited the ODI at Sahiwal in protest against Sarfraz
Nawaz and the Pakistan team destroying the spirit of the game by playing
negative cricket to deny India the match, Bishan rose even higher in my
esteem. For him, either the game was played in the right spirit, or not at all.
Chandrasekhar was completely unique. There has never been a bowler
quite like him. Not only was he difficult to read and face for the opposition,
but even for us in the nets. On top of that, his was an inspirational story.
How he overcame childhood illness and permanent physical damage to
become one of the greatest leg-spinners the world has ever known is a story
that is well documented in this book. For those of us who played with him,
the contrast of his vicious deliveries coming off the pitch and troubling
batsmen, with his unassuming personality and gentle nature without ball in
hand, was a source of constant delight.
Then there was Prasanna, oh so classic. I had seen and played against
him in domestic cricket before that tour. I was familiar with his guile and
control and understanding of the craft of off-spin. His ability to make the
ball hang in the air had fascinated me. Sadly, his career was the worst hit by
the debacle on the Pakistan tour and he never played for India again.
Finally, there was Venkat. I have rarely seen a more determined
cricketer. I had the chance to play alongside Venkat for a few years after the
other three retired, and there were lessons to be learnt from that
determination. I will always maintain that what happened to him on that
flight back from England in 1979, which Anindya describes well in this
book, was one of the lowest points of Indian cricket administration.
Before I move on I must mention two more legends of the game who
cannot be forgotten. Padmakar Shivalkar and Rajinder Goel were two of the
most outstanding spin bowlers I have had the privilege of watching and
playing with. It was indeed unfortunate that these two legends of the sport
did not get the chance to play for India. They certainly deserved to.
Cricket has changed over the years—the formats, the requirements,
and hence the bowlers. In India, this change started with the retirement of
the four legends.
First came Dilip Doshi, a real ‘thinking’ bowler. It was my pleasure
playing alongside him and also briefly captaining him during his short but
impactful career. Shivlal Yadav, who replaced Prasanna in the team was
also a very competent spinner. At Melbourne in 1981, when we won a
famous victory against a very strong Australian side, I was bowling with a
torn thigh muscle, Yadav had a broken toe, and Doshi an instep injury. It is
perhaps the only instance in history when a match was won largely by the
efforts of three injured bowlers.
Then there was Ravi Shastri, who must be counted among the most
remarkable success stories in cricket in relation to his limited inborn talent.
Ravi who put in some remarkable performances while we played together,
not only at the 1985 World Championship of Cricket in Australia but
regularly in Test Cricket as well, showed what hard work and application
can achieve in professional sport.
I also played with two remarkably gifted spinners who failed to live up
to their potential—Laxman Sivaramakrishnan and Maninder Singh. They
were in complete contrast to Ravi, possessing the talent, and yet wasting it.
After I left the game, came two spinners who continued the tradition—
Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh. Very talented and hardworking spinners
who achieved great things for the country.
Since the exit of these two has come a remarkable change in Indian
cricket that I personally am happy to see and which I believe can only be
good for the country.
There was a time people believed that India could never produce fast
bowlers. I would like to believe that my career, and fast bowlers who
followed me, helped change that view. But it’s true that fast bowling pool of
talent was limited.
 Today, it is a different world. Thanks to the changes in the game and
the new formats, India today has a wonderful crop of youngsters who bowl
fast and there is bench strength and a system that is producing more of
them. Equally heartening is the fact that alongside the likes of Jasprit
Bumrah and Mohammad Shami we are also producing such talented
spinners like Ravichandran Ashwin, Ravindra Jadeja and Kuldeep Yadav.
Anindya’s book could not have come at a more appropriate time to
remind us of the rich history of spin bowling in India, as the baton is passed
on to the next generation. While I had of course heard about the bowling of
Vinoo Mankad, Subhash Gupte, Salim Durrani and the others who came
before the four legends, I was taken aback at the depth of the research and
the interesting stories about every spinner who ever played for India (and
some who didn’t), so well narrated in this book. It is at the same time a
treasure trove of information and a very entertaining read.
I wish the book much success and have no doubt the readers will
enjoy the stories just as much as I did.

New Delhi KAPIL DEV

May 2019
 Introduction

With the opposition at 101 for no loss at lunch, Indian shoulders had started
drooping, and the dressing room at the Ferozeshah Kotla on this cold
January day of 1999, was bereft of banter. It had been two decades and a
generation since the team had won a Test match against Pakistan. This had
looked like the home team’s best chance, but even a lead of 419 going into
the last day on a wearing pitch seemed inadequate now.
And then something happened which was to create cricketing history.
Captain Azharuddin and coach Anshuman Gaekwad had a quiet chat before
the teams went back in after lunch. Azhar then switched Anil Kumble to the
pavilion end. Kumble’s first six overs of the morning had been largely
ineffective, but the impact of the change of ends would be dramatic.
Shahid Afridi’s flamboyant drive only resulted in an edge to
wicketkeeper Nayan Mongia. Ijaz Ahmed was struck on his toes by a fast
one at yorker length. Inzamam was unable to keep a straighter one from
rattling his stumps off the bat, and Yousuf Youhana was trapped in front of
the stumps. Pakistan was 115 for 4 and Kumble was on fire.
By now half the fielding team was crowded around the bat, and when
Moin Khan and Saeed Anwar were snapped up by Ganguly and Laxman
respectively, Pakistan had slumped to 128 for 6. Kumble had 6 for 15 in 44
balls.
By the time the teams went into the tea break, no more wickets had
fallen and the stand between Saleem Malik and Wasim Akram had yielded
58 runs. Kumble had bowled unchanged for two hours and was visibly
tired.
 Right after tea, a rejuvenated Kumble pitched one short to Malik who
expected it to bounce, but the ball just skidded through fast and took out his
middle stump. Mushtaq Ahmed and Saqlain Mushtaq followed Malik back
to the pavilion, victims of the Kumble magic. Pakistan was now 198 for 9.
The celebrations in the stands had begun but on the ground, Wasim Akram
was frustrating the hosts by refusing to cede strike to the less accomplished
Waqar Younis.
It was a cat and mouse game which could not last forever, and
eventually, Akram fell to a simple leg break, Laxman doing the honours at
short leg. India had beaten Pakistan for the first time in twenty years in a
Test match and Anil Kumble had delivered it with a Perfect Ten, in a single
unchanged spell of magnificent spin bowling.

Any discussion on Indian Cricket that does not begin with the topic of spin
bowling eventually leads to it. The two are inextricably linked and over the
course of its history, the highs of Indian cricket have rarely been separable
from the performance of its spinners. India’s greatest Test matches, be it
Port of Spain 1971, the Oval 1971, Port of Spain 1976, Melbourne 1981,
Delhi 1999, Kolkata 2001 or Adelaide 2003, have always involved match-
winning performances from its spinners alongside the heroics of its
batsmen.
At a very personal level, Indian spin bowling has always had a special
place in my heart and my life. The vision of Bishan Bedi gliding gently
between the umpire and the stumps, easing into an impossibly smooth side-
on action, left arm releasing the ball with a tantalising loop at a speed that
invited a grandiose swing of the bat and the inevitable catch in the outfield
is one of the enduring memories I have of my first Test match. India’s first
and perhaps most stylish left-arm medium pace bowler Karsan Ghavri was
making his debut on the field, and I, a seven-year-old, was emulating him in
the stands. Years later, when I was to finally meet Ghavri while writing this
book, our mutual debuts were an instant connector.
It was the winter of 1974, Clive Lloyd’s team was in town to wage
battle at the Eden Gardens in Calcutta against an Indian side led by Mansur
Ali Khan ‘Tiger’ Pataudi. Pataudi had been brought back to lead the side
that he had personally moulded into a formidable unit over the past decade
and a half. This had followed a disastrous tour of England under Ajit
Wadekar earlier that summer when everything that could go wrong, did,
resulting in a 0-3 scoreline in the Test series.
Bedi tempted the West Indian batsmen into some ill-advised stroke
play. From the other end there was Chandra, his medium-paced googly
thudding into the back pads of the batsman one ball, and the faster ball next
up bouncing off a good length causing the hapless willow wielder to fend
the ball off his gloves into the hands of slip in an attempt to avoid a broken
nose. And just when the batsmen thought it could not get any worse, there
was Prasanna, perhaps the greatest off-spinner the world has ever seen. An
engineer by training, a genius of his craft, a master of flight and an
outwitter of the cleverest batsmen, he kept holding the ball back
tantalisingly in mid-air, leaving the batsman stranded outside the crease
while handsome Farokh Engineer behind the stumps whipped off the bails
with a characteristic flourish.
Over those five days in Calcutta’s Garden of Eden, sitting in the CAB
(Cricket Association of Bengal) Members’ Stand with my father explaining
the intricacies of the game and narrating past deeds of the gladiators on
display, I fell hopelessly in love not just with the game, but with the idea of
spin bowling.
In the ensuing four decades and more, cricket became an obsession. It
was also almost inevitable that I would become a spin bowler, but of the
kind whose unrealistic ambitions far exceeded his limited abilities.
Fortunately, the realisation of that chasm set in rather quickly and I would
find peace in my role as a certified cricket tragic while going about building
my banking career. In time I would gratifyingly discover that what I did
with my pen far outstripped the magic of my spinning fingers. Cricket once
again entered my life, and this time, I would be in my element as a
chronicler of the art that decades earlier had been beyond me on the playing
field.
When I was approached to write a history of Indian spin bowling, it
was perhaps inevitable that I would embrace the project with almost
childlike enthusiasm, daunting as it was in its scale and responsibility,
covering a period of 120 years and following the careers and lives of
seventy twirlymen.
This has been a fascinating journey, from the exploits of Palwankar
Baloo, an ‘untouchable’ of the Indian caste system, who would go on to
lead the Hindus in the Quadrangular and become India’s superstar bowler in
England on the 1911 tour, to Yuzvendra Chahal, one of the carriers of the
torch into the future, whose guile as a leg-spinner has its foundation in his
training as an international chess player.
In the course of this journey, I have had the privilege of meeting,
either physically or virtually, some of India’s greatest cricketers and cricket
writers to get their views and pick their memories for stories that would
enrich this book. To achieve diversity of perspective, I also reached out to
some of the great non-Indian cricketers and writers who had played against
Indian spinners and observed and reported on their craft over the decades.
Their views and opinions moulded by thousands of hours of research and
reading overlaid with my observations and opinion as a tragic and a student
of the game, has resulted in this labour of love.
But the journey began with a question I posed to Mike Coward, one of
Australia’s great cricket journalists and a fan and supporter of Indian cricket
over the past several decades. I asked Mike what makes India a land that
produces a veritable assembly line of spinners. After all, from Clarrie
Grimmett to Bill O’Reilly to Richie Benaud to Shane Warne, Australia has
produced some of the greatest wrist-spinners the world has seen. But this
has been alongside some great fast bowlers down the ages from Fred
Spofforth to Ray Lindwall to Keith Miller to Glenn McGrath. So what was
different about India that its attack, notwithstanding the likes of Kapil Dev,
Zaheer Khan and Javagal Srinath, has always been associated with the
quality of its spinners?
His answer intrigued me.
‘It is undeniable that ground, pitch and weather conditions in India
have traditionally suited the development of slow bowlers. But so too has
the archetypal Indian character—even in temper, patient, stoic, respectful
and with a great respect for the rich tradition of spin bowling on the
subcontinent,’ said Mike.1
This made me look at the topic through a different lens. Is Mike
Coward’s view a romantic notion harboured by foreigners that associates
the predominance of spin with the underlying Indian psyche, or has there
always been a social angle to this phenomenon?
It intrigued me that one of the keenest observers of the game and a
man whose writing I grew up on, Sujit Mukherjee, in his book Playing for
India had a different take on it after himself posing the question: Why
should we have produced such a succession of top-flight spin bowlers?
Musing on his rhetorical question, Mukherjee went on to say: ‘Perhaps
some aspect of our national character, especially as evolved in almost a half
century of new nationhood, finds fullest expression in handling the cricket
ball in a hundred slow and devious ways.’
Over the eighteen months or so that this book has been in the making,
the sociological aspect is something that I have often gone back to, starting
with the remarkable story of Palwankar Baloo, who went on to play with
and eventually captain a team of high caste Hindus even before Mahatma
Gandhi launched his campaign against untouchability.
There is the case of players in the 1950s, including India’s first and
one of the greatest off-spinners, Ghulam Ahmed, choosing to drop out of
Test matches and tours at the peak of their careers when their careers could
least afford it, perhaps because financial reasons compelled them to do so
given how poorly players were compensated.
There is the unique situation when it took a Nawab from a tiny
principality near Delhi to make the first attempt at breaking the shackles of
regionalism that had been the bane of Indian cricket and introduce the
concept of Indian-ness in the team. Decades later, it would be a not-so-royal
Prince of Calcutta, who finally shattered those regional barriers forever and
made the team a truly Indian one, handing over the reins to a railway ticket
collector from a little town in eastern India, who in 2011 would hold aloft
the World Cup for the second time in India’s cricketing history. Cricket had
finally become the ‘national game’ for all practical purposes.
The book is enriched by the stories I heard from former players and
writers as well as the rich treasure trove of written material, interviews and
old match reports that I devoured.
The thread that weaves all these tales together is the story of Indian
spin, a phenomenon like no other, surviving the test of time, briefly taking
the back seat when a rare gem like Kapil Dev Nikhanj burst upon the scene,
but always ready to rise to the challenge when the nation needed it most.
For seventeen long years, while the fabled ‘Spin Quartet’ of Bedi,
Chandrashekar, Prasanna and Venkataraghavan ruled the waves, a
generation of world-class spinners who could have walked into any Test
side in the world could not make their way into the Indian team, for no fault
of their own. But the art did not die out and once the Quartet were done, the
talent of Dilip Doshi, Maninder Singh, Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh
continued the march through India’s spin corridors into the sun. The success
of Ravichandran Ashwin and the recent emergence of two wrist-spinners,
Yuzvendra Chahal and Kuldeep Yadav, who might well represent the future
of Indian spin, is a sign that the tradition is alive and well.
The most interesting part about history is that it never stands still and
Indian spin is no exception to this rule. The future will play out the way it
will, but this attempt to capture a snapshot of the sport in the country and
the role spin has played in it thus far will hopefully provide a context and
perspective on the past that will help shape the future. If that happens, then
this, and indeed any other account of the past will have served its purpose.
 Section 1
INDIA’S SPIN JOURNEY BEGINS
 Palwankar Baloo
e First Great Indian Spinner

‘The first great Indian spinner—Mahatma Gandhi excepted—was in

fact an Untouchable, Palwankar Baloo.’
—Ramachandra Guha, Spin and Other Turns

Exactly two years before the first Test match was played in 1877 between
England and Australia at Melbourne, where Australia emerged victorious
thanks to a 7 for 55 by left-arm spinner Tom Kendall in the fourth innings, a
boy destined to follow Kendall’s art would be born in the Indian town of
Dharwad, deep in the Deccan plateau, to a family of leather workers or
Chamars, a caste at the bottom of the Indian social hierarchy deemed
‘untouchable’ by much of the rest of society. Originally hailing from the
village of Palwan, north of Goa, the boy would be named Palwankar Baloo
(literally, Baloo from the village of Palwan).
Palwankar Baloo, with the power of his remarkable left-arm spin,
discarded the shroud of untouchability, shattered the glass ceiling of the
caste system and burst on to the national and world cricketing scene. He,
later referred to as the ‘[Wilfred] Rhodes of India’, became the most
effective Indian spin bowler of the pre-Independence era, and laid the
foundations of the tradition of left-arm spin in Indian cricket that Vinoo
Mankad and Bishan Bedi, in the decades to come, would raise to an art.

e Early Years
When young Baloo’s father moved to Poona to join the army (some
accounts suggest he worked at the ammunitions factory and others that he
was a sepoy), Baloo and his younger brother, Shivram, discovered the joys
of cricket. Baloo’s first job was as a groundsman at a Parsi cricket club
where he swept and rolled the pitch and occasionally bowled to members at
the nets. When he made the move to the European-run Poona Club (they
paid him four rupees a month in place of the three the Parsis handed out),
Baloo found himself commandeered to bowl at the nets by Poona’s leading
English cricketer, Captain John Glennie (‘Jungly’) Greig.
It was a rewarding arrangement. Greig would come in an hour before
anyone else every morning and Baloo would bowl to him. Pitted against the
best batsman of the time, Baloo’s bowling improved steadily (as did his
bank balance since ‘Jungly’ would pay him eight annas for every dismissal)
while Greig perfected his technique.
It is, however, interesting to note that in the hundreds of hours that
Baloo spent at the nets during this phase, not once would he be invited to
bat. As he would explain to his son many years later, in India, as in England
at the time, batting was the sole preserve of the social aristocracy and Baloo
was as far removed from that as leather is from willow.
As he continued to bowl at ‘Jungly’ and his fellow officers, Baloo’s
fame was starting to spread. Soon it had reached the ears of the Poona
Hindus, the other major cricket club. While the Telugu members of the club
were keen to invite Baloo, the local Marathi brahmins were not. ‘Jungly’
Greig came to the rescue, giving a well-timed interview to the local press
suggesting that the Hindus would do well to avail of Baloo’s services. The
Sahib’s words did not fall on deaf ears.
Baloo soon joined the Poona Hindus. Notwithstanding the fact that the
upper caste Hindus would take catches off the very ball Baloo delivered but
not have tea from the same crockery at the breaks, he spun the team to
several victories over the local sides, the Poona Europeans and the
venerated ‘white-only’ Satara Gymkhana.
This last performance won him a remarkable social victory.
Ramachandra Guha in his wonderful treatise A Corner of a Foreign Field,
recounts how Baloo was felicitated: ‘(A)t a public function on his return to
Poona, the garland lovingly placed around his shoulder by the great scholar
and reformer Mahadev Govind Ranade … a little later Baloo was praised at
a public meeting by a Brahmin nationalist even more celebrated than
Ranade, Bal Gangadhar Tilak.’
Palwankar Baloo was beginning to push the caste barriers much before
a certain Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi would launch his campaign on
behalf of the lowest social strata.

e Rise of Palwankar Baloo

Baloo and Ranjitsinhji

Around 1897, at the age of twenty-two, Baloo moved to Bombay (now
Mumbai), a shift that would propel him into the highest echelons of Indian
cricket. There were dozens of club teams in Bombay and Baloo joined the
PJ Hindu Gymkhana at the insistence of their cricket captain Kirtikar who
facilitated the entry of Baloo despite the protests of a number of Gujarati
members.
Baloo quickly became the backbone of the team and his fame
continued spreading. A few encounters with K.S. Ranjitsinhji merit re-
telling. It is worth mentioning that Ranji, at the time when Baloo bowled to
him, was one of the leading batsmen of the world and was the most
competent batsman India had to offer to international cricket even after his
playing days in England were over.
In 1898-99, Ranji played for Kathiawad against Zalawad at Rajkot and
was on the losing side by a margin of 10 runs. The scoreboard reveals that
Kathiawad could well have won that encounter but for Ranji being
dismissed by Baloo, playing by invitation for the Zalawad side.
A match report of an encounter between the teams of Maharaja of
Jodhpur and Maharaja of Natore that took place ten years later in Calcutta
has this snippet about Ranji (by now the Jam Saheb of Nawanagar) who
was turning out for his friend from Jodhpur: ‘After scoring 20, Baloo’s
deceptive ball eluded Ranji’s bat and the umpire immediately raised his
finger. He was out lbw, and walked straight back to the pavilion.’
In A Corner of a Foreign Field, Ramachandra Guha recounts another
incident narrated to him: ‘As a young boy [D.B.] Deodhar walked across
the river to see Ranji bat. But the Prince made only a handful, being caught
at slip off Baloo.’
Bowling Style So What Was So Special About Baloo’s
Bowling?
For one, he had phenomenal control and variation. While, as can be
expected, he was deadly on sticky wickets, where he scored over all other
bowlers was in his ability to keep the batsmen guessing and doing so
accurately and unrelentingly, over after over, hour after hour.
A.F.S. Talyarkhan paid this moving tribute to Baloo from his
recollections of watching him bowl as a boy: ‘The gloss is off the ball and
the skipper throws it to a flannel-clad player, a quiet, unassuming sort of
chap, looking the least deadly of all on the field. But a ripple of cheering
would burst forth because that was the signal for things to happen. One can
see Baloo even now, short, easy run, that very facile delivery as the left arm
came over, always the unbuttoned calf of his flannel shirt dangling at the
wrist, always the batsman dangling in his mind where to play the ball and
when I can see him jogging in to bowl, behind his arm the picture that was a
packed Bombay Gymkhana, the grass ever so green. I can see that dangling
shirt cuff, that blue cap, the follow-through and that little thrust of the head,
as if the brain had also followed through, in between the pads and the bat, to
lift the leg-side bail.’2
A contemporary cricketer from Calcutta (now Kolkata), who had had
the opportunity to observe Baloo from close (perhaps when they both
played for the Maharajah of Natore), had this to say: ‘A fine left-hand
bowler, who possesses marvellous stamina. Breaks from both sides. Seldom
tires. Can bowl all day long. Keeps an excellent length. Never sends down a
loose delivery. Understands the game thoroughly. Places the field to a
nicety, catches come (to the fielders), they have not to go in for them.
Decidedly a “head bowler”.’3
Palwankar Baloo, India’s first great spinner, pioneered the very
characteristics that the best Indian spinners of the next hundred years would
exhibit.

England Ho!
In 1907, a tournament started between the Europeans, the Hindus and the
Parsis of the Bombay Presidency named the Triangular. Baloo, of course,
played for the Hindus.
Between 1907 and 1911, Baloo played 5 matches of this premier
tournament and took 40 wickets at less than 10 runs apiece. His brothers,
Shivram and Vithal, also joined the team in this period.
In 1911, when the first All India team was to tour England, there was
much excitement around the country and Bombay held the All India trials.
The selectors were carefully chosen—two Hindus, two Muslims, two Parsis
and chaired by ‘Jungly’ Greig. Not surprisingly, the team consisted of six
Parsis, three Muslims (all from Aligarh) and five Hindus. To preserve
harmony, the team was captained by a Sikh, the twenty-year-old Maharajah
Bhupinder Singh of Patiala, who happened to be an excellent batsman.
So it came to be. When the team gathered at Bombay that summer to
make the voyage, Palwankar Baloo, an ‘untouchable’ by birth, was on
board the ship sailing for the home of cricket.

e 1911 Tour of England

Accounts of the 1911 tour of England by the All India team make for
fascinating reading. Despite keeping in mind the realities of the time, it is
astounding to recall that the captain was rarely to be found with the team
given his commitments on the London social circuit. Alongside him, ready
to cater to his every whim, was his secretary Keki Mistry, who also
happened to be the best batsman of the team. Hence, at one go, the team
had lost its two best batsmen to the rigours of social life in London. The
results were not long in showing.
The All India team played 14 first-class matches against the English
counties, won 2, drew 2 and lost 10. In 9 matches against second-class
teams they won 4 and lost 5. It is not surprising that the combination of
rarely having their best batsmen available, the professional opposition and
the unfamiliarity of the early summer weather in England would impact the
performance of a team whose members barely knew each other and were
divided on communal lines even before they went out to play.
Not surprisingly, the man who emerged from the ashes of that tour like
a phoenix was a certain Palwankar Baloo.
 For a team that went down tamely to most opposition they faced,
Baloo’s figures were astonishing. In the 14 first-class matches, Baloo sent
down 2965 deliveries that summer, picking up 75 wickets (over 40 per cent
of all opposition wickets taken by the team) at an average of just above 20.
His numbers over the whole tour were 114 wickets at an average of 18.84.
In many of the matches that the team won, Baloo bowled roughly half the
overs sent down, suggesting he was bowled virtually unchanged through the
innings while ensuring victory almost single-handedly. It is perhaps worth
noting that by the time this tour took place, he was already thirty-six years
old.
Baloo was successful against almost all the top county sides taking 7
for 83 against Lancashire, 4 for 127 against Yorkshire, 4 for 74 against
Warwickshire and 4 for 100 against Surrey, with many of his victims being
Test cricketers of the time. In the victory against Lancashire, Baloo claimed
5 for 92 and 6 for 93. English critic E.H.D. Sewell commented: ‘Baloo is a
bowler most of our counties would be very glad to have in their XI.’
The English counties had started lining up for Baloo’s services. Surrey
had already expressed interest in 1904 when they were short of a left-arm
spinner. Tales of Baloo’s prowess were being brought back to England by
returning Europeans who had no answer to his bowling in the club and
Triangular matches but the move had not happened. Now he received
several offers but for Baloo it was too late in his life to make the move to
being a professional in England. Notwithstanding his outstanding
performance on the tour, Baloo’s shoulder was swollen from being over-
bowled for over fifteen years.
When the team returned to India, Baloo very modestly told the Times
of India that he was not satisfied with the work he himself did with the ball
and wished that the team had been sent six years ago when he was at his
best. Notwithstanding his modesty, Baloo’s performance in 1911 needs to
be put in the context of later performances by Indian bowlers on tours of
England, to understand how staggering it truly was.
Palwankar Baloo took 75 wickets in 14 first-class matches in 1911 at
5.36 dismissals per match. In 1932, Amar Singh took 111 from 26 first-
class matches at 4.27 per match. Vinoo Mankad in 1946 took 129 wickets
from 29 first-class matches at 4.45 per match. Subhash Gupte took 95
wickets in 30 matches in 1959 at 3.17 per match. No Indian bowler since
then has come anywhere near these numbers. Baloo’s numbers, whichever
way we spin it, remain as outstanding today as they were 108 years ago.

Palwankar Baloo and the Dalit Movement

When Baloo returned triumphant from the tour of England, he was
honoured at a reception where one of the organisers was a young college
student by the name of B.R. Ambedkar. Baloo and Ambedkar would go on
to form a friendship that would last decades, notwithstanding political
disagreements that would crop up between the two in later years.
Baloo would get involved in politics and support Gandhi’s efforts to
bring Home Rule to India and fully integrate Dalits into the broader Indian
society. Ambedkar would campaign for Dalits to be assigned special
representation in the legislature. The British Government agreed to
Ambedkar’s suggestion and created a Communal Award under which Dalits
would be elected from a separate electorate composed only of Dalit voters.
Gandhi went on a fast to death in protest in September 1932 and Baloo
would put out a press release admiring ‘the spirit in which Mr. Gandhi has
proclaimed his intention of sacrificing his life for the sake of the Depressed
Classes’. Ambedkar was forced to eventually negotiate with Gandhi and
sign the ‘Poona Pact’ allowing Dalit more seats but with all Hindus allowed
to vote for them.
This time the victory was Baloo’s, but both his attempts at winning an
election after this would be unsuccessful. In 1933, he lost a Bombay
Municipality election by 2,179 votes to 3,030 to a high-caste Hindu, and in
1937 to Ambedkar himself by 11,225 seats to 13,245 in the battle for a
designated Scheduled Caste seat in the Bombay Legislative Assembly.

e Palwankars Achieve the Unthinkable

But for now, there was still a lot of cricket left in Baloo.
By 1913, the Triangular had become the Bombay Quadrangular with
the inclusion of the Muslims. The captaincy of the Hindus should by right
have come to Baloo, but Indian society was not yet ready to accept an
‘untouchable’ leading a Hindu team no matter what his credentials. Instead,
M.D. Pai, a brahmin, was chosen captain.
 A newspaper, the Bombay Chronicle, founded the same year records
that while accepting the captaincy, Pai stated ‘the honour of captainship
should have been given to his friend Mr Balu, he being the senior and
experienced player in the team.’ This was truly a generous and
unprecedented statement given Mahatma Gandhi was still in South Africa
and emancipation of the downtrodden was an unknown ideal. But the
reality was that it was still too early for society to accept that a Chamar spin
bowler could be the captain of a Hindu team while brahmin batsmen played
under him. Notwithstanding, Baloo would continue playing and other than a
couple of missed years, he continued to be a force to reckon with.
At the 1919 Quadrangular, a crowd in excess of 10,000 watched
Palwankar Baloo bowl close to his best. He was then forty-four years old.
Guha describes his performance thus: ‘In one afternoon he dismissed the
best Parsi batsmen, Kapadia and Vajifdar, and also defied his age by taking
a leaping catch, one-handed, at point.’ The fascinating match report adds:
‘Baloo was making the ball turn. Sometimes he broke right across the
wicket when he pitched on the leg stump. Sometimes he broke just
sufficiently to hit the wicket.’4
In the 1920 Quadrangular, Baloo was appointed vice-captain while Pai
continued to captain the side. In the final against the Parsis, when the
opposition was batting in the second innings, Pai left the field and for the
first time ever an ‘untouchable’ was captaining a Hindu side. A reporter
covering the match commended the ‘excellent leadership’ of Baloo adding
that, ‘… he displayed fine judgement in the management of the side’s
bowling’.5
The glass ceiling had been pierced and three years later at the 1923
Quadrangular, when Baloo’s brother Vithal was formally anointed captain,
it would be shattered, once and for all.

e Importance of Palwankar Baloo

In a first-class career that lasted from 1905 to 1921, Palwankar Baloo took
179 wickets from 33 matches at an average of 15.21. This is particularly
striking when his average is compared with some of the more illustrious
and better known later proponents of the art of left-arm spin. Vinoo Mankad
had a first-class average of 24.53, Bishan Singh Bedi 21.69, Maninder
Singh 23.85, Padmakar Shivalkar 19.69 and Rajinder Goel 18.58.
Palwankar Baloo was indubitably the founding father of the tradition
of spin that India would embrace as its road to cricketing greatness. While
that by itself would have been enough for us to celebrate his life, his
achievements go well beyond his bowling prowess.
By embracing the sport of cricket and using it as a medium to break
the shackles of caste, Baloo did something extraordinary. At a time when
social barriers were far more entrenched than today, he gained acceptance in
society at large and was championed as the captain of a side composed
entirely of upper-caste Hindus. When he passed away in 1955 at the age of
eighty, he would even have a street in his hometown named after him.
It is astonishing, and scarcely believable, that at a time when Mahatma
Gandhi was just launching his campaign against caste barriers and B.R.
Ambedkar was embracing the fight for the Dalit cause, Palwankar Baloo
was proving that sports could be a great leveller and, at least, on a cricket
field all men were equal.
It was a lesson that the country would embrace. While the division of
competing teams along religious lines continued for a few more years, the
issue of caste would never again be a parameter that would deny a
deserving young man a chance at cricketing glory.
 e Early Journey of Indian Spin

‘Until Nayudu introduced the conjurations of the East to put the

Indian sign on batsmen, the bowling of his countrymen had been
mostly noted for pace and swing. Good leg spin and googly bowlers
were few. I cannot figure why. With his race’s subtlety of mind, an
Indian would surely have discovered the googly, regardless of
whether an Englishman had already stumbled on it.’
—Ray Robinson in The Glad Season

By the time Palwankar Baloo bowled the final ball of his first-class career
in 1921, he had single-handedly established spin bowling as a craft to be
revered and encouraged. Over the next eleven years, until India joined the
elite group of nations that played Test matches, at Lord’s in 1932, the
practitioners of this trade would have to make do with domestic glory and
continue to spread the widening awareness that the future of Indian cricket
would rest to a significant extent on the fingers and wrists of the spin
doctors.
When the first eleven men to play Test cricket for India stepped on to
the hallowed turf at Lord’s on 25 June 1932, there were no specialist
spinners among them. There was the imposing figure of Mohammad Nissar
running in to bowl miles faster than the English batsmen expected, his
partner Amar Singh unrelenting with his hostile and accurate fast medium
from the other end. C.K. Nayudu and Jahangir Khan turned up first change
with their accurate medium pace. Almost as an afterthought, batsman
Phiroze Palia was thrown the ball, and he sent down three overs of his slow
left-arm occasional spin before leaving the field with an injury. India would
have to wait a further two years before a genuine spinner was inducted into
the Test side.

Rustomji Jamshedji Dorabji Jamshedji Baloo’s

Successor
The man who took over the mantle of left-arm spin bowling from Baloo in
the early 1920s was Rustomji Jamshedji Dorabji Jamshedji. Born in
Bombay in 1892, Jamshedji was the best bowler for the Parsis in the
Quadrangular, banking on his accuracy and never afraid to toss up the ball
to deceive batsmen with flight. Sujit Mukherjee in Playing for India would
describe him thus: ‘Jamshedji, with his gentle trot to the crease and loose
left arm wedded to an honest length.’
In 1928, a year before K.S. Duleepsinhji made his debut for England
and two years before he would score a sensational 173 against Australia
that propelled him into the same batting firmament as his uncle Ranji,
Duleep made his debut in the Quadrangular for the Hindus.
By this time, Duleep had been heading the batting averages at Surrey
for two years (he would do so for another four years afterwards) and was
clearly destined for greater things. Bowling to him in the Quadrangular
match was Jamshedji of the Parsis.
The Parsis had not won the Quadrangular since 1922. That year,
Jamshedji, making his debut at the age of thirty in the semi-finals against
the Europeans, had taken 7 for 85, spinning the Parsis to victory. In the
finals against the Hindus, who were playing without the now-retired
Palwankar Baloo but with current and future stalwarts like D.B. Deodhar,
C.K. Nayudu, L.P. Jai and Janardan Navle leading their batting card,
Jamshedji had put in two magnificent spells of bowling, picking up 11
wickets ensuring a 122-run Parsi victory.
Back in the present, six years later with Duleep walking out to bat for
the Hindus, Parsi chances did not look bright. Jamshedji’s ensuing duel with
Duleep where he kept the young prodigal prince quiet for long periods with
his pinpoint accuracy has been spoken of with awe by contemporary
pundits as one of the highlights of the encounter. Jamshedji did not take
Duleep’s wicket but frustrated him enough for the young prince to play an
ill-advised lofted shot off medium pacer Vajifdar with his score at 84. Once
Duleep was out, Palwankar Vithal (Baloo’s younger brother and the first
untouchable to captain a Hindu team) and D.B. Deodhar could only take the
Hindus’ score to 260. The Parsis responded with 396 and won the tie on the
basis of the first innings lead.
The Parsis then defeated the Europeans in the next game to win the
Quadrangular for the first time in six years. Jamshedji took 10 wickets in
the match to seal victory for his team, as he had done in his debut season.
When the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) toured India in 1933–34, a
forty-one-year-old Jamshedji turned out for Bombay. The hosts were
bowled out for 87 before the visitors piled up 481 for 8. Jamshedji sent
down 35 overs and picked up 6 for 127: his wickets included those of Cyril
Walters, Charlie Barnett, Douglas Jardine and Stan Nichols. On the basis of
this performance he was selected for the first Test match ever played in
India, to be held at the Bombay Gymkhana.
At forty-one years and twenty-seven days Jamshedji became India’s
oldest Test debutant, a record that continues to stand in his name eighty-six
years later. Making their debuts alongside Jamshedji were L.P. Jai, Ladha
Ramji (fast bowler Amar Singh’s brother), Lala Amarnath and Vijay
Merchant.
England won the encounter but Jamshedji accounted for 3 precious
wickets. He caught Leslie Townsend off his own bowling. About the catch
Wisden was to say: ‘There was nothing better in the match than the catch
made by Jamshedji, the slow bowler, in dismissing Townsend, a very hard
return being held beautifully.’
Jamshedji would never again play a Test match but wrote his name in
the history of Indian cricket as the first specialist spinner to ever play Test
cricket for India.

Co ari Subbana (C.S.) Nayudu e First Indian Leg-

Spinner
By 1930, two teenage prodigies were being heard about from the city of
Indore as spin bowlers who could carry on the tradition of Baloo and
Jamshedji. Their names were Mushtaq Ali and C.S. Nayudu.
Mushtaq Ali made his debut for India against England at Calcutta in
the 1933–34 series, replacing Jamshedji as the left-arm spinner. In a twist of
fate, however, it would be his batting that would keep him in the side. He
went on to become a renowned opening batsman and formed one of India’s
most formidable opening partnership with Vijay Merchant. But before his
career prospered with the willow rather than leather, in 1931, playing for
Vizzy’s invitational side alongside Jack Hobbs and Herbert Sutcliffe, he
would take 6 for 36 in the first innings including 3 wickets in one over,
followed by 5 for 18 in the second. In his book Cricket Delightful, Mushtaq
would recount with much fondness how Jack Hobbs presented him with a
pair of silver hairbrushes to show appreciation for his bowling.
The mantle of carrying on the young tradition of Indian spin would
rest on the shoulders of Mushtaq’s friend C.S. Nayudu, the younger brother
of the great C.K. Nayudu, India’s first Test captain. In a story diametrically
opposed to Mushtaq’s, Nayudu would sacrifice his prowess with the willow
to become the leading domestic spin bowler.
Nayudu had the ability to impart significant revolution to the ball in
the tradition of the best traditional wrist-spinners. He loved to attack, but
his problem was control. Sujit Mukherjee, in his inimitable style, wrote in
Playing for India: ‘From the day he lunged up head bent to the crease and
dragged down leg breaks top-heavy with spin if light-headed about
direction, he promised unexpected happenings at the other end.’
Cota Ramaswami, who was his teammate on the 1936 tour to England,
was to say about him in his book, Ramblings of a Games Addict: ‘CS bent
his body so low while delivering the ball that his head was almost on a level
with the top of the stumps. He stretched his arm fully and threw his body
weight into his delivery so that the ball came off the pitch very quickly. He
also spun the ball extremely well but unfortunately his length and direction
were not always controlled. Probably because of this unpredictability CS
got quite a number of wickets. Batsmen did not seem to know when CS was
going to produce that unplayable ball.’
Nayudu had a stellar domestic career and his record of 295 wickets in
the Ranji Trophy, at an average of 23.49, remained a record until 1970–71
when V.V. Kumar, another leg-spinner went past it. Overall, in first-class
cricket, Nayudu took 647 wickets at an average of 26.54. His ability to
bowl long spells was legendary and astounding. He holds the world record
for sending down most number of deliveries in a first-class game. Bowling
for Holkar in the Ranji Trophy final against Bombay in 1944–45, Nayudu
bowled 152.5 overs (917 balls). His two spells of 64.5-10-153-6 and 88-15-
275-5 must go down as great examples of endurance and dedication on a
cricketing field. For the record, his effort was in a losing cause, which takes
little away from his achievement.
Nayudu was also arguably India’s first real all-rounder, a decade
before Vinoo Mankad would lay claim to that position. In his first-class
career, he scored 5,786 runs at an average of 23.90, and was a brilliant
close-in fielder at a time when fielding was treated at best as a necessary
evil.
On the international scene his impact was unequivocally
disappointing. While it is true that the few chances he got to play Tests were
spread across his career, it is also a fact that his erratic line and length were
easily exposed and dealt with by batsmen of the class of Don Bradman, Len
Hutton and Wally Hammond whose footwork and aggression were enough
to make his length and line even more ragged. His one notable spell
involved the first hat-trick by an Indian in England, taken against Surrey on
the 1946 tour of England.
Nayudu played 11 Test matches over a career spanning eighteen years
and took 2 wickets at an average of 179.50. Considering his domestic
achievements, his international haul is shocking in its sparseness.
Mukherjee was of the opinion that Nayudu kept returning to the team not
only because of his domestic bowling performances but also because of ‘his
uninhibited batsmanship and peerless close catching’.6 While that may be
true, the importance of C.S. Nayudu lies not in his international
performances but in the fact that he along with Amir Elahi, another stellar
domestic leggie who went on to play for both India and Pakistan, raised the
profile of leg-spin bowling in India. He paved the way for later Indian
bowlers who enjoyed greater success in the art at an international level.
Raju Bharatan, commentator and writer, paid him just tribute when he
wrote in Indian Cricket: The Vital Phase: ‘Cricket for CS was always a fun
game, to the end he remained the true amateur. That we still instinctively
associate the name of CS Nayudu with the best in wrist-spin is a measure of
the impact he left on cricket in India when at his parabolic zenith. CS
practised a specialist craft with skill and imagination.’

Amritsar Govind (A.G.) Ram Singh e Forgo en

Sikh
Before Vinoo Mankad made his appearance on the firmament of Indian
cricket, for a brief period, the star of A.G. Ram Singh, a South Indian Sikh
was destined to shine as the holder of the left-arm spin baton handed over
by Jamshedji.
Singh’s best ever innings figures of 8 for 14 were earned in a Madras
Presidency match, playing for the Indians against the Europeans. Ranji
Trophy numbers of 164 wickets at 16 runs apiece and first-class figures of
265 wickets at 18.56 were not enough to earn him a place in the Test side
where selectors, for reasons unknown, continued to prefer the likes of C.S.
Nayudu.
Ram Singh did get to play unofficial Tests against sides brought to
India by Ryder and Tennyson. Denis Compton and Lindsay Hassett, both of
whom played against him, went overboard assessing him: the former
compared him to Wilfred Rhodes, the latter thought if he had been in
Australia he would have been in the running for an Australian Test berth.
But as The Hindu was to say, ‘(He) bore the burden of Madras cricket
on his shoulders as very few had done before and none after him. Centuries
flowed from his bat while with his left-handed spinners he sent many a
batsman to his doom.’ And that indeed was his biggest contribution—to
Madras (now Chennai) cricket.
Despite scoring over 3,000 runs and taking 230 wickets in all games
during the lead-up season to the 1946 tour of England, Ram Singh’s claims
were ignored and he gave up playing the same year and took up coaching,
which he would do with remarkable success for thirty years. As a coach, he
would gift India at least four Test cricketers: Salim Durani, C.D. Gopinath
and his sons, Kripal and Milkha Singh. One hopes this may have been some
small recompense for the injustice he suffered.

Amir Elahi Two Countries, One Career

Born in Lahore in 1908, Amir Elahi started life as a medium-pacer but
made his mark as a leg-break and googly bowler. He made his first-class
debut in 1934 for Baroda and was a prolific wicket-taker, bagging 193
scalps at 24.72.
In January 1935, the Maharaja of Patiala sent his agent Frank Tarrant
to Australia to arrange for an Australian side under Jack Ryder to play the
Indian team. The idea was to help prepare the team for the three-Test trip to
England in 1936. Elahi was selected for this series and in his hometown of
Lahore, took 3 for 15 and 1 for 55 helping the Indian team beat the visitors.
His performance in this series ensured Elahi would travel to England in
1936 as the only specialist spinner in the Indian squad. Bizarrely, given the
fact he was the only spinner chosen, he was not picked for a single Test
match. But then he was hardly the only person whose career was disrupted
on that tour.
The 1936 team to England was led, indubitably, by the most
undeserving captain in the history of Test cricket, Maharajkumar of
Vizianagram (‘Vizzy’). Vizzy’s on-field contribution was a sum total of 33
runs in 3 Tests but the damage caused by the off-field destruction he left in
his wake was incalculable.
The first episode involved India’s leading all-rounder Lala Amarnath.
By mid-tour, Amarnath had scored 613 runs at 32.26 and taken 32 wickets
at 20.87 with an injured back. Vizzy had refused to let him rest. At Lord’s
he was asked to pad up and then forced by Vizzy to sit as a succession of
other batsmen were sent in ahead of him. He eventually got his turn minutes
before the close, and clearly angry, he made his anger known by throwing
his kit into his bag and muttering in Punjabi, ‘I know what is transpiring,’
when he returned to the changing room. Amarnath was sent home the next
day, the prime years of his career to be spent playing domestic cricket.
Vizzy then offered a gold watch to Mushtaq Ali (who turned down the
offer) to run out Vijay Merchant, since Merchant was in the camp of C.K.
Nayudu, the best cricketer and former captain of the side.
Finally, just before the third Test at the Oval began, after the XI had
been announced and Bengal’s fast bowler Shute Banerjee was all set to
make his debut alongside the fearsome opening pair of Amar Singh and
Mohammad Nissar, Vizzy made another Machiavellian move. He
convinced Baqa Jilani, who bowled both medium pace and occasional leg
breaks, to insult C.K. Nayudu before the match. As a reward he was
inserted into the side in place of the stunned Shute Banerjee.
Jilani did nothing to justify his inclusion and never played another
Test. In a sad end to the story, five years later, Jilani passed away under
mysterious circumstances, it never being quite clear whether his death was
self-inflicted or a result of an accident.
Banerjee would wait thirteen years to make his debut against the West
Indies at Bombay in 1949, by then well past his prime. That was the only
Test he would ever play. But even at the age of 38, he made his debut count,
picking up 5 West Indian wickets at an average of 25.40 including a 4 for
54 spell of top-class bowling.
But back to Amir Elahi who spent the entire 1936 tour carrying water
for his teammates instead of beguiling the English batsmen with his
googlies.
In 1934, Australia’s great leg-spinners Clarrie Grimmett and Bill
O’Reilly had picked up 53 of the 73 English Test wickets to fall, each
exceeded 100 wickets on the tour. Just two years later, Vizzy did not feel
the need to play Amir Elahi, his only quality leg-spinner against virtually
the same set of batsmen.
Eight years later, while playing for Holkar in the Ranji Trophy in
1944–45, Denis Compton referred to Elahi as one of the finest spin bowlers
he had come across, and the best googly bowler in town. One can only
speculate the difference having a quality leg-spinner would have made to
the Indian team to back up one of the most fearsome pace attacks of the
age, led by Amar Singh and Mohammad Nissar.
The Cricketer, in its match report of the Oval Test of 1936, makes a
telling statement: ‘In Amar Singh and Nissar, the Indians possess a grand
pair of bowlers, and we shall always remember their efforts, but our visitors
lacked a leg-break bowler who would, at least, have imparted more variety
into the attack.’ India did indeed have such a bowler. His name was Amir
Elahi, and he was warming the benches.
Elahi was again picked for the Indian tour of Australia in 1947–48
when he was thirty-nine, and made his debut in the second Test at Sydney.
He was not needed as a bowler as Dattu Phadkar and Vijay Hazare bowled
Australia out for 107 in the first innings and the match was drawn without
India bowling for the second time. Elahi never played for India again.
But that was not the end of his Test career.
Amir Elahi decided to emigrate to Pakistan after his return from
Australia and in 1952–53 when Pakistan came to play India for its first-ever
Test series, forty-four-year-old Elahi was in the team. Elahi had the honour
of wearing Pakistan’s first-ever Test cap, something that immortalises him
in the annals of Pakistan cricket. He played all 5 Tests and took 7 wickets at
35.42 apiece.
Amir Elahi would take 513 first-class wickets at 25.77 over the two
decades that he played at this level for two different countries. He passed
away at the age of seventy-two in Karachi in 1980.

e Intervening War Years

When Britain went to war with Hitler’s Germany in 1939 and Australia
joined the effort soon after, the game of cricket lost its two major teams.
International fixtures were suspended until the war ended. Although India
did not lose players like Hedley Verity to the war like England, the six years
of the war cost the prime cricketing years of a generation of players in India
just like it did for England and Australia.
The one advantage that India had was that domestic cricket continued
largely uninterrupted and a new generation of spin bowlers were honing
their craft in first-class cricket both at the Pentangular and the newly
instituted Ranji Trophy tournaments. Chandu Sarwate, Sadashiv Shinde,
Ghulam Ahmed, Vinoo Mankad and their ilk would erupt on to the post-war
cricketing scene to help build the foundation that eventually established
India as a powerhouse of spin bowling.*

* In 1937, a fifth team, called The Rest, was admitted to the tournament and
the Quadrangular became the Pentangular. It comprised Buddhists, Jews,
and Indian Christians. On occasions, players from Ceylon (Sri Lanka)
appeared for them including at least one Hindu.
 e Genius of Vinoo Mankad

‘With Hedley Verity gone, I don’t think there is a better left-hander

than Mankad.’
—Lindsay Hassett7

While the Second World War disrupted cricket globally and denied a
generation of English and Australian cricketers in their prime their place in
the sun, its impact on Indian cricket was relatively muted. On the cricket
fields across India, in first-class cricket and beyond, a new generation of
tweakers were honing their craft against some of the best players of spin. A
number of them would go on to represent India in the coming years but
none would have quite the impact of Mulvantrai Himmatlal ‘Vinoo’
Mankad.

Vinoo Mankad Erupts on to the Domestic Scene

In the mid-1930s India found a twenty-year-old who showed early promise
that he could be a worthy successor to Palwankar Baloo and Jamshedji as a
left-arm orthodox bowler of immense class. Against Lord Tennyson’s
1937–38 team that toured India, young Vinoo Mankad, almost
unobtrusively, picked up 15 wickets to head the bowling averages. N.S.
Ramaswamy in his book Indian Cricket refers to the emergence of Mankad
thus: ‘Few Indian players have owed their prominence to one particular tour
as Vinoo Mankad did to this.’
 Mankad’s emergence was remarkable not merely because of his early
success with the ball but because it was accompanied by a display of some
exemplary batting skills. Starting off with scores of 38 and 88 in the two
innings of the second ‘Test ‘which was also his first representative match,
accompanied by a first innings bowling haul of 2 wickets for 6 runs,
Mankad improved with every match. His batting average for the series was
62.66 and with the ball he averaged 14.33.
After the series, Lord Tennyson remarked that Mankad could walk
into any World XI. Unfortunately, Mankad’s talent in the prime of his youth
would only be on display in domestic tournaments for the duration of the
war. For the world to appreciate his talent, it would have to wait until 1946
when the war ended.

1946 Tour to England e Vinoo Mankad Show

Mankad would finally get to showcase his talent before the world when he
travelled to England for the 1946 tour as a part of the Indian team led by
Iftikhar Ali Khan Pataudi. The Cricketer would say about the team: ‘We
feel that so innate is the cricketing skill of the Indians that the day will
come when they will defeat both England and Australia.’
Indeed there were some world class players in the team. Vijay Hazare,
Vijay Merchant, Mushtaq Ali and Lala Amarnath could have walked into
any team in the world of their time. But it was Vinoo Mankad in his debut
series who stole the show.
Mankad was not a stylish batsman but he was the true captain’s player
and had the rare ability to bat at any position for the sake of the team.
Through his career, he batted at all positions from number one to number
eleven. Only England’s Wilfred Rhodes had done this before him.
On the tour, despite being asked to bat at positions from number one to
number nine, he shared in seven century stands—four with Merchant and
three with Hazare. Four of these were records for the particular wicket at
the time—293 with Merchant for the first, 322 with Hazare for the fourth,
227 unfinished with Hazare for the sixth, and 110 with Merchant for the
eighth. And with the ball, his guile—mixing up flight and pace—combined
to leave him a rich harvest of wickets.
Mankad became the first Indian and first visiting cricketer in England
since Leary Constantine in 1928 to achieve the double of 1,000 runs and
100 wickets on the tour. The Cricketer famously remarked (in the context of
the depleted English spin-bowling stock in the then ongoing Ashes series
down under): ‘They had a first-class slow left hander, with an occasional
faster ball in Mankad who, were he an Englishman, would now be in
Australia.’
A Mankad-besotted John Arlott wrote: ‘His rebellious, straight black
hair gleaming, laughter richly present in his deep-seated eyes, he bustles
powerfully through his short run and bowls with a thick left arm—the
orthodox left-hander’s spinner leaving the bat, or, when least expected and
with no change of action, the ball that goes with his arm. From his first over
in England Mankad was a good slow left-hander. By the end of the tour,
there is little doubt that he was the best slow left-arm bowler in the world.’8

e Difficult Years: 1947 to 1950

1947-48 Tour to Australia

Two months after the Indian Tricolour was first unfurled over the Red Fort
in Delhi on 15 August 1947 and Jawaharlal Nehru proclaimed India’s ‘Tryst
with Destiny’, the first Test team of independent India left her shores to join
battle with the formidable Australians.
Suffice to say that the 1947-48 Australian tour was not an unqualified
success. None of the team members, including skipper Lala Amarnath, had
ever experienced Australian conditions or wickets. Having been on two
tours of England on either side of the war was clearly no preparation for the
hard and bouncy pitches and the Indians found themselves woefully
underprepared. Mushtaq Ali, Fazal Mahmood and Kardar could not tour
because the negative and harrowing impact of the Partition of India had not
spared the cricket team. To make matters worse, Vijay Merchant and Rusi
Modi were injured and did not make the tour to Australia either. It was
always going to be an uneven contest when this depleted Indian side came
up against Bradman’s soon-to-be immortalised ‘Invincibles’.
While the Indian batting line-up was relatively strong on paper and the
remaining batsmen who made the tour did put up good scores, they never
did so at the same time. Their efforts, while individually fruitful, were
collectively fruitless. The ultimate 0-4 score line was an accurate reflection
of the difference between the two teams.
The team had no fast bowlers (specialist or otherwise). The spin
department was, however, well stocked with C.S. Nayudu, Amir Elahi and
Chandu Sarwate joining Mankad in the line-up. But overwhelmed by the
conditions, Amarnath developed a reluctance to use his spinners. When he
did bowl them, they were never allowed to settle down. Nayudu’s 13 overs
in the final Test were broken up into six spells—2, 2, 2, 3, 2, and 2 overs,
respectively.
The notable exception was Vinoo Mankad. His tour figures of 12
wickets at 52.50 each did not even begin to suggest how well he bowled,
and how often. But clearly on the unfamiliar Australian pitches with even
bounce, it was baptism by fire. A look at Bradman’s series average of
178.75 is enough to gauge the problems Mankad and his fellow bowlers
were faced with on the tour.
The Cricketer’s series report was generous to the young bowler: ‘A
slow left-hand bowler with an excellent control of flight, spin and length, he
must not be judged solely on the figures for he was without doubt one of the
successes of the tour, and now ranks as one of the best all-round cricketers
in the world.’

‘Mankading’ Is Coined
While the 1947-48 Australian tour was forgettable in terms of the ultimate
result for the Indians, there were significant positives including the
magnificent batting of Hazare, Amarnath and Mankad.
But in terms of its place in cricket history, the series will be forever
remembered for an incident that took place on 13 December 1947 during
the rain-affected second Test of the series at Sydney. Mankad had run out
Bill Brown, the non-striker, in a tour match for backing up too far before
the ball had been delivered. He had done so after giving Brown a warning
to which he had paid no heed. At Sydney, when Brown once again backed
up a few feet before Mankad had delivered the ball, the bowler had no
hesitation in removing the bails.
What Mankad did was well within the rules of the game (MCC Law
42.15) which stated: ‘The bowler is permitted, before entering his delivery
stride, to attempt to run out the non-striker. Whether the attempt is
successful or not, the ball shall not count as one of the over. If the bowler
fails in an attempt to run out the non-striker, the umpire shall call and signal
Dead ball as soon as possible.’ Moreover, this was a batsman who was
doing exactly the same thing for the third time against the same bowler.
The Australian press and public did not, however, see it quite the same
way. It was the first time this had been done in international cricket and
they did not hesitate to castigate Mankad for his ‘unsportsmanlike conduct’.
The weight of Australian public opinion and the wrath of the press came
down hard on Mankad.
Unequivocal support for Mankad’s act came from the venerated Don
Bradman, who said: ‘For the life of me, I can’t understand why (the press)
questioned his sportsmanship. The laws of cricket make it quite clear that
the non-striker must keep within his ground until the ball has been
delivered. If not, why is the provision there which enables the bowler to run
him out? By backing up too far or too early, the non-striker is very
obviously gaining an unfair advantage.’ 9 Brown himself admitted to Rahul
Mankad, Vinoo Mankad’s son, years later that ‘Vinoo had done nothing
against the rules. By backing up despite his warnings, I deserved it.’
Nonetheless, this mode of dismissal would forever go into cricketing
lexicon as ‘Mankading’.
Seventy years later, in 2017, ICC finally amended the law to remove
the term Mankading and made it clear that this mode of dismissal was
entirely the batsman’s fault. The changes, brought by the new Law 41.16
that is titled ‘Non striker leaving his/her ground early’, are clearly explained
thus: ‘Changing the title of the Law, to put the onus on the striker to remain
in his/her ground. It is often the bowler who is criticised for attempting such
a run out but it is the batsman who is attempting to gain an advantage. The
message to the non-striker is very clear—if you do not want to risk being
run out, stay within your ground until the bowler has released the ball.’
Thanks to the ICC’s move, albeit belated, infamy will finally leave the
Mankad name and allow it to be cherished for his achievements.

West Indies Tour to India 1948-49 and the Win that

Never Was
A few months after a chastened Indian team returned to her shores, the West
Indies arrived for the first overseas tour of independent India by a Test-
playing nation. John Goddard led a team packed with enormous talent,
among them names that were legends of the game—George Headley (the
‘Black Bradman’), Jeffrey Stollmeyer, Clyde Walcott and Everton Weekes.
Weekes proved to be the nemesis of the Indian bowlers. He followed
up his 141 in the final Test versus England before coming to India with
scores of 128, 194, 162 and 101 in the first three Tests and set a record of
five hundreds in consecutive innings, a record that still stands in his name
seventy years later. He finished with 779 runs at an average of 111.28, still
the highest aggregate by any batsman against India.
West Indies went on to win the series 1-0 but India would have felt
done in by one of their own, which prevented the first-ever Test match
victory for the home nation.
In Bombay, in the last Test, India was chasing 361 in its second
innings to win the match and level the series. 21 runs were needed to win
with fifteen minutes still left in the final day’s play. Despite some time-
wasting tactics by West Indies, India had to score just 11 runs to win from
the last 2 overs. In the next over, India scored 5 runs from the first 5 balls.
But then, with 6 runs to get in 7 balls, umpire Bapu Joshi called time and
whipped off the bails. Perhaps in his excitement and nervousness, not only
did he miscount the number of balls in the over but miscalculated the time
as well. India’s first Test victory would have to wait.
Through the series Mankad laboured gallantly on the field after
fulfilling his duties as a batsman but against this West Indian line-up he was
not as effective as he or his fans would have wished. Mankad’s 17 wickets
were obtained after bowling 186 overs in the three Tests and six of them
came in the last Test where umpire Joshi denied India an almost certain
victory.
By the end of 1950, critics were beginning to question whether the
Mankad of 1946 would ever be seen again and whether it was his batting
that was impacting his bowling. Sujit Mukherjee in Playing for India was
the most perceptive on what was wrong with the Mankad of that period:
‘Vinoo Mankad maintained an endless supply of patient and intermittently
incisive slow bowling which the Indian team banked upon more or less in
the same way that Indians take for granted that the Ganga or the Godavari
will always have water. Mankad’s bowling suffered because Test captains
got into the habit of turning him on and forgetting about it.’

e Vinoo Mankad Era: 1951 to 1954

Just as the critics were starting to write him off, Mankad shook off the
uncertainty that seemed to have accompanied him the past few years and
erupted into a new phase of his career that would leave the world stunned.

England in India 1951-52: e First Test Victory

‘Towards the end of September last year, a young enthusiastic party of
cricketers set out to tour India, Pakistan and Ceylon, keen to do well and to
establish permanent claims for international honours. They returned home
late in March somewhat disillusioned, realising, like so many before them,
that cricket in other parts of the world is very different from that in
England. With one or two exceptions, reputations suffered as far as personal
performances were concerned.’ So reads the report written by Leslie Smith
for the 1952 Spring Annual edition of The Cricketer.
It is a leading paragraph that accurately summed up the experience of
the young English team that had been sent to the subcontinent. They met
lifeless turf pitches where they were used to movement off the pitch and in
the air; they ran into twenty-three-year-old Pankaj Roy (described in the
report as ‘a sound, rather than spectacular type of batsman’) who scored
387 runs in the opening position; and then there was Vinoo Mankad.
Mankad had had a wonderful series with both bat and ball and yet
when the teams came to Madras in February 1952 to play the final Test
match of the series, England was 1-0 up from their victory in the previous
Test at Kanpur. India, for all the talent and individual brilliance on display,
had not won a match in nearly twenty years of playing Test cricket.
When England batted in the first innings on a typically lifeless
Chepauk pitch, the modest first day’s score of 224 for 5 was entirely due to
some exceptional bowling from Mankad. On the morning of the second day,
Mankad ran through the Englishmen with four of the batsmen, including
Tom Graveney, lured out of their crease by the flight and trajectory and
bails whipped off by the exceptional skill of wicketkeeper Probir ‘Khokan’
Sen. England was all out for 266 and Mankad’s figures read a stunning 8 for
55, testimony to battles won in the air rather than off the pitch.
A brilliant unbeaten 130 from Polly Umrigar and a pleasing innings of
111 from Roy helped India to 457, a lead of 191 runs. By the fourth day it
was all over. Mankad with his match figures of 12 for 108, bowling in
tandem with off-spinner Ghulam Ahmed (whom we shall hear more of in
the next chapter) had combined to take the last 8 wickets. England was all
out for 183 and India had their first-ever Test victory by an innings and 8
runs, two decades after Colonel C.K. Nayudu first led an Indian team out to
play a Test match at Lord’s.
Kersi Meher-Homji, whose first memory of watching Mankad in
action goes back to the Bombay Test in this 1951-52 series, describes him
thus in his book Cricket’s Great All-Rounders: ‘When we remember Vinoo
Mankad, we remember an unruffled robust character with the top shirt
buttons undone, usually uncapped (although at times he bowled wearing a
cap) with a rhythmic bowling action, a beast of burden, an Atlas in
flannels.’
Mankad’s 34-wicket haul for the series would remain a record until
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar surpassed it twenty-one years later.

Mankad’s Test and India in England 1952

The story of the summer of 1952 is worth recalling not so much for the
disappointing results (India lost 0-3) but more for Mankad’s performances
and the bizarre series of events that would presage the Tests.
Vijay Hazare led a team of confident young cricketers to the British
Isles just a few months after India had won her first Test match against the
visiting Englishmen. It was true that the team they would face would be
substantially different from the young squad that had toured India, but most
of the stars of India’s victory (Pankaj Roy, Polly Umrigar, Vijay Manjrekar,
Ghulam Ahmed) were all on the boat. All, except the one man Hazare
would want by his side, Vinoo Mankad.
Mankad, perhaps quite unnecessarily, had asked the Board for a
guarantee that he would be selected for the 1952 Test matches in which case
he would not take up the Lancashire League contract with Haslingden that
was being offered to him. Equally bizarrely, given that with his 34-wicket
haul and his consistent batting Mankad had been instrumental in getting
India her first victory a few months before, the Board declined to confirm
his selection. At this stage, given the necessity of financial security (which
at the time was hard to come by for a cricketer), Mankad joined Haslingden.
Even before the first Test at Leeds in June, panic struck the Indian
camp. Ghulam Ahmed and Dattu Phadkar were injured. Hazare and
manager Pankaj Gupta then sent out a SOS which resulted in Mankad
joining the Test squad for the duration of the tour.
The second Test at Lord’s is where Mankad once again showed the
world how special he was. On a perfect batting strip against the world’s
greatest batting line-up of the time—Len Hutton, Tom Graveney, Peter
May, Dennis Compton, Alan Watkins and Godfrey Evans—Mankad sent
down 73 long overs to pick up 5 wickets for 196. He also scored 72 in the
first innings and followed it up with 184, the highest score by an Indian
batsman at the time—walking in to open the innings after bowling 31 overs
that day.
Despite the one-man show, India lost by 8 wickets—the story of the
tour for the visitors. Neville Cardus, deeply affected by the performance in
what has come to be known as ‘Mankad’s Test’, would write: ‘India
emerged from the Lord’s Test match, thanks to Mankad and Hazare, on the
side of the Angels, as far as playing the game is concerned. I would give the
match to India on, say, aesthetic and spiritual points.’

Pakistan and West Indies Series

As the battered Indian team returned to Indian shores, Pakistan had just
been granted Test status and was preparing to visit India to play her first-
ever Test series. Captain Abdul Kardar and Amir Elahi had both played, for
India before Partition, with many of the players they were now facing. So
this was always going to be an emotional encounter.
Mankad was in his element in the first Test at Delhi. After putting on
372 when India came out to bowl, it was Mankad all the way. He ran
through the bemused Pakistani batsmen who had no answer to his flight and
guile. In 47 overs, Mankad picked up 8 wickets conceding 52 runs as
Pakistan was dismissed for 150. Following on, Pakistan could only manage
152 as Mankad again took 5 for 79 finishing with an incredible 13 wickets
for the match as Pakistan were welcomed to Test cricket with an innings
defeat. If anything, this should have been described as being ‘Mankaded’!
 Mankad was bizarrely left out for the second Test at Lucknow along
with Vijay Hazare and Hemu Adhikari, allowing Pakistan a first Test
victory in ten days of Test cricket, something that had taken India twenty
long years to achieve. When the trio was reinstated for the third Test at
Bombay, Mankad picked up 8 wickets and scored 76 runs to help take India
to victory by 10 wickets.
This also meant he became the fastest man to the double of 1,000 runs
and 100 wickets in his 23rd Test match. It would take a further twenty-
seven years before Ian Botham bettered that by achieving the double in 21
Tests.
The tour to West Indies that followed would not be hugely productive
for Mankad as he picked up only 15 wickets in the five Tests against some
very strong batting but he would remain the workhorse, bowling a
staggering 345 overs of accurate left-arm spin. Eighty-two of these would
come in the first innings of the last Test which continues to be the most
bowled by an Indian bowler in a single innings.

e Final Years At the Top

In 1954-55, when India made the reciprocal tour to Pakistan, Mankad had
taken over the mantle of captaincy. By this time, joining the ranks of world-
class spinners in the side in the form of Ghulam Ahmed and Mankad was
Subhas Gupte, who would go on to put Indian leg-spin bowling on the
world map. He would show his class even at this early stage, taking 21
wickets in the series.
Mankad, however, continued to shoulder the brunt of the bowling. 12
wickets in 5 Tests was inadequate recompense for a bowler of his class and
it was only in Peshawar in the fourth Test that he took 5 for 64 in the second
innings to make any sort of impact. The series did not produce any result,
ending 0-0, and it increasingly appeared that Mankad had lost his
effectiveness.
New Zealand then visited India the next winter. The tracks were tailor-
made for batsmen and Mankad was in his elements with the willow scoring
two double centuries. The New Zealand bowling had been handled with
ease by the Indians who had, in the series, already registered scores of 498
for 4 declared, 421 for 8 declared, 531 for 7 declared and 438 for 7
declared. In the fifth Test at the Corporation (later Nehru) Stadium in
Madras, they would make the previous scores look pedestrian.
Mankad and Roy opened the innings for India after Umrigar won the
toss. At the end of Day 1, the scoreboard read 234 for no loss, with Roy on
114 and Mankad on 109. After lunch the next day, the pair went past the
existing world record opening partnership of 359 that stood in the name of
Len Hutton and Cyril Washbrook of England, registered against South
Africa in 1948-49. Soon, they had passed 400.
At this stage, word was sent out that acceleration was needed and in
trying to force the pace, Roy was out for 173 (bizarrely, Umrigar then came
in and batted for over eighty minutes before finally declaring) while
Mankad eventually registered 231, then the highest score by an Indian
batsman. The pair had put together an opening partnership of 413 runs. This
would stand as a record for 52 years, until South Africa’s Graeme Smith
and Neil McKenzie surpassed it in 2008, sharing a 415-run stand against
Bangladesh at Chittagong.
Sadly, Mankad’s bowling in the series made little impact. The leg-spin
of Subhas Gupte was increasingly incisive with his 34 wickets in the five
Tests, while Mankad picked up only 12 on the same tracks.
In his last full series in 1956-57 when Australia visited India for the
first time, it was clear that Mankad was coming to the end of his career.
Despite a 4 for 90 at Madras and a 4 for 49 at Calcutta, the real spinning
successes on this tour were again Gupte for India and young Richie Benaud
for the Australians.
By the time the West Indies came to town the following season,
Mankad had dropped out of the team. A new breed of spinning all-rounders
in the form of Chandu Borde and Bapu Nadkarni were making their
presence felt while the regular spin slots were now firmly in the grip of
Ghulam and Gupte.
When Umrigar dropped out of the fourth Test on a selection dispute,
forty-one-year-old Vinoo Mankad was called up for what would turn out to
be a last hurrah. He bagged 4 for 95 in the first innings but was then taken
ill. In the final Test at Delhi, Mankad, almost forty-two now, had figures of
0 for 167 from 55 marathon overs. Like Bradman exactly a decade earlier,
Mankad too would fail to score in his last Test innings, ironically bowled by
a spinner, Collie Smith.
 With 162 wickets in his bag and 2,109 runs under his belt, having
provided yeoman service to his nation, Vinoo Mankad, one of India’s
greatest all-rounders and the first acknowledged world-class Indian spinner
at the highest level of the game, bowed out of the game he had made his
own.

Vinoo Mankad e Spinner and the Man

Mankad has clearly been acknowledged as the man who made the world sit
up and take notice of Indian left-arm spin before his worthy successor,
Bishan Singh Bedi, swept them off their feet. He was also the greatest all-
rounder India has produced along with Kapil Dev. As part of a generation
that was not privileged to watch Mankad bowl, I found written accounts of
his bowling fascinating. Speaking to people who did have the privilege of
close association with him provided me with a deeper understanding of the
man and the cricketer.
We have Sujit Mukherjee’s evocative visual prose in Magnifico that
describes Mankad’s bowling: ‘After walking three steps, he glided his next
three strides to the wicket so smoothly as to be practically soundless.
Instead of the curving run of many slow left-handers terminating in a body-
rotation, Mankad adopted a straight approach for his side-on delivery.
Practically without breaking stride, he looped his left arm round, trouser-
pocket height, to over his head, in an effortless movement synchronized
perfectly with the final thrust of his right leg across the crease. He did not
raise the right arm higher than his face, so that he had to bring his right
shoulder around more than most bowlers of his type and point it towards the
batsman. As the left hand released the ball, the right dell to his side with the
fingers curled and the thumb extended.’
Rahul Mankad, younger son of Vinoo Mankad, an accomplished first-
class batsman and left-arm spinner in his father’s mould, represented
Bombay with distinction over the course of a twelve-year career. He said to
me about Vinoo Mankad the bowler: ‘His philosophy as a bowler was to
have a big heart, first and foremost. The bowler must be prepared to take
punishment and must be thinking all the time how to get the batsman out.
The battle was as much in the head as it was on the field. Out-thinking the
batsman was always on top of his mind.’10
 Perhaps, there could be no greater compliment that Mankad as a
bowler could have received than the signed photograph that Sir Donald
Bradman presented him. Inscribed on it are the words: ‘Well bowled,
Mankad’.
About the core philosophy of his father as a cricketer, Rahul Mankad
said: ‘Willingness for battle, attitude, and above all determination and
temperament were better attributes than technique, he believed. Excuses
had no place in his life. He would always tell us “deal with it … accept
responsibility and learn and move on”. Bad decisions, dropped catches,
failures etc., were all part of the game and all areas to learn from.’
Padmakar Shivalkar, perhaps the greatest Indian cricketer never to
play for the country, told me about how Mankad gave him his first job and
encouraged him to keep bowling and to develop his own style and not try to
copy Mankad. Shivalkar would become the most respected left-arm spinner
of his generation in domestic cricket and would always remain indebted to
Mankad for his advice and his first job. Rahul Mankad adds: ‘He (Mankad)
would have assisted hundreds of cricketers over the years to secure
employment contracts to play cricket in England.’
Madhav Apte was one of the most gifted opening batsmen India has
ever produced. He was bizarrely dropped after a series in the West Indies
after averaging over 51, never to be picked again. Apte remembers Mankad,
who was his college coach and later his captain when he played for India,
with great respect and fondness. Despite being bowled by Apte’s googly at
the nets, Mankad saw greater potential in his batting and sent the young
man in to open the batting for Elphinstone College, a career-defining move.
Appropriately, the last word on Vinoo Mankad the cricketer comes
from son Rahul: ‘He was a fierce and uncompromising competitor who
gave it all but was always willing to accept, acknowledge and respect the
opponent.’ No sportsman could hope to have a better epitaph.11
Vinoo Mankad passed away in Bombay on 21 August 1978, aged
sixty-one.
 Building a Tradition of Spin

‘When in the opening Test at Leeds Ghulam Ahmed snared Hutton,

Simpson and Compton into giving catches to Ramchand at short-leg,
for the time being he appeared to have mesmerised these batsmen
with powers other than the manifest one of making a cricket ball turn
back from the off.’
—Sujit Mukherjee in Playing for India

While Vinoo Mankad was exploding into the international scene as a world-
class spinner and all-rounder in 1946, a generation of spin bowlers, whose
skills had been discovered and nurtured in India during the Second World
War, were quietly beginning to emerge out of obscurity into national and
international reckoning. Some would make their name bowling alongside
Mankad, while the peak years of others would come after Mankad had
relinquished his place in the sun.

Sadashiv Shinde
Neither Sadashiv (Sadu) Shinde’s Test match record nor his introduction in
Wikipedia as the father-in-law of Indian politician Sharad Pawar does
adequate justice to his bowling or indeed his place in the history of Indian
spin bowling. Ironical as it may be, as journalist Ashis Ray points out in his
book Cricket World Cup, ‘His (Pawar’s) closest link to the sport was the
fact that his father-in-law, Sadashiv Shinde, a leg-spinner appeared in seven
Tests for India.’
 Born in Bombay to a father who was a building contractor, wavy-
haired Sadu Shinde was a tall, frail young man who, at first glance, seemed
unsuited for an outdoor sport played under the scorching sun. Making his
first-class debut in 1940 at the age of seventeen, he would continue to play
for fifteen years until an attack of typhoid would claim him as a victim.
Shinde was only thirty-two when he passed away.
A feature of Shinde’s bowling was that he was a tall spinner, did not
impart flight, and his direction was often sacrificed for spin. Hence, he had
to depend on his variations, the googly and an unconventional top spinner
rather than his stock ball (which should have been the leg-break) for taking
wickets, a principle contrary to the conventional wisdom of being a good
spinner.
Sujit Mukherjee describes the top spinner (curiously calling it
Shinde’s second googly) in Playing for India thus: ‘Coming after the
orthodox wrist-crooked wrong-’un, this delivery invariably sprang a nasty
surprise. Ripped off the top of the third finger, it hastened unexpectedly off
the pitch. Its tendency to pitch short nullified its efficacy as secret weapon
but was practically unplayable when properly pitched.’
Curious about this delivery, I asked Madhav Apte, who played a fair
bit of cricket with Shinde, about it. Apte confirms that Shinde was someone
‘who did not spin the ball too much but achieved significant bounce and his
main ball was the top spinner and he depended on that and his googly for
wickets.’12
Playing for Maharashtra against Bombay in 1944, Shinde came into
his own bowling 75.5 overs and picked up 5 for 186 while Bombay scored
735, Vijay Merchant contributing 359 of them. Prospering under the
tutelage of his captain, D.B. Deodhar, in the following match against
Nawanagar, Shinde picked up 5 for 17 and 4 for 29. He would end up with
230 wickets in his first-class career with Maharashtra, Baroda and Bombay
at an average of 32.59.
At the highest level, he played 7 Tests in the course of his career with
a less than impressive haul of 12 wickets for 59.75. But he had that one
moment in the sun, a Test match when he turned unplayable and ran
through the opposition, a match that would forever find a mention of him in
the history books.
Selected to play against the 1951 English team as the second spinner
alongside Mankad, Shinde was in his element. Bowling 35.3 overs, he was
on song throughout the first innings and claimed 5 victims with his top
spinner and googly, bowling 3 and trapping 2 batsmen lbw. Only D.B. Carr
fell victim to a rare Shinde leg-break, edging a ball to wicketkeeper P.G.
(Nana) Joshi. Shinde’s figures at the end of the innings would read 6 for 91
as he led the team off the field.
In the second innings while the Englishmen did not handle the spin
better, India’s catching was below-par and Shinde added only two more
victims despite a marathon 73-over effort. Seven catches were dropped off
Shinde’s bowling that day, Dattajirao Gaekwad who was substituting for
Vijay Merchant miffing two easy ones and wicketkeeper Joshi spilling the
rest. England batted out the overs to force a draw.

Ghulam Ahmed
As Hitler’s troops crossed over into Poland in 1939, in a far-off Indian
kingdom ruled by a Nizam, a seventeen-year-old boy was making his debut
against Madras, sending down deliveries hitherto not seen in the arsenal of
Indian spinners, turning the ball in from the off and middle into the right-
handed batsman. Ghulam Ahmed, India’s first (and destined to be one of
the greatest) off-spinners, would announce his arrival with hauls of 5 for 95
and 4 for 62.
Born in Hyderabad in 1922, Ghulam Ahmed was a tall, slim off-
spinner who had that most essential quality of a successful spin bowler—
the ability to turn the ball prodigiously. For Ghulam, outwitting a batsman
was what he thrived on. He was always ready to try something different.
Being a pioneer is always difficult, and it was no different for Ghulam.
His kind of spin was unusual in India at the time. So, he was quickly
labelled a matting-wicket bowler, thus explaining away his increasingly
impressive performances. His 23 wickets would help Hyderabad reach the
semi-finals of the Ranji Trophy in 1942-43. They were not yet enough to
sway the naysayers.
In 1945, playing for South Zone against the powerful Australian
Services team on a turf wicket at the Chepauk, he silenced many of his
critics picking up 8 Australian wickets including captain Keith Miller in
both innings. Despite this and other performances, Ghulam was overlooked
for the 1946 tour of England which bizarrely included three leg-spinners
(Sadhashiv Shinde, C.S. Nayudu and Chandu Sarwate) who played one Test
each, bowled 48 overs between them and picked up 2 wickets for 125 runs.
Though the captain, Nawab of Pataudi, insisted that Ghulam be selected, his
appeal fell upon deaf selectorial ears.
After the 1946 team returned to India, there was a match arranged
between the selected team and the Rest of India. Bowling for Rest of India,
Ghulam took 8 wickets including that of Vijay Merchant in both innings
and Mankad in the second. C.S. Nayudu failed to take a wicket in the match
and Mankad, the hero of the tour, picked up four.
During the selection for the 1947 tour of Australia, where his presence
might just have been what was required to provide penetration and support
for Mankad, Ghulam was again ignored. Amir Elahi made the trip alongside
Chandu Sarwate and C.S. Nayudu (all leg-spinners). The inexplicable
omissions were adding up.

Test Debut and Helping Make History

Finally, nine years after the first display of his undeniable talent, Ghulam
Ahmed finally made his Test debut at the Eden Gardens in Calcutta against
the West Indies on 31 December 1948. His fellow tweakers had struggled in
the first two Tests against the supreme batting of the Caribbean gents.
Ghulam’s figures of 35.2-5-94-4 on his debut included the scalps of Clyde
Walcott and Everton Weekes.
In the second innings, Weekes was again one of his two victims but
not before he had scored a century in each innings. Not surprisingly,
Ghulam would be picked in the team for the last two Tests and bowl
sparsely, but without spectacular success much like his teammates. He,
however, once again dismissed Weekes (who had by then scored an
incredible 779 runs in the Test series) in the last Test at Bombay.
For almost three years India had no Test matches to play, so players
like Ghulam who had already been frustrated by the interruption of the war,
were once again deprived of cricket at the peak of their careers.
Ghulam loved bowling long spells. Like Mankad, he was a well-oiled
machine a captain could switch on and forget to turn off. Ghulam
demonstrated this in no uncertain terms when in the 1950-51 Ranji Trophy
semi-finals against Holkar, he sent down 555 deliveries—92.3 overs. This
remains an Indian first-class record sixty-eight years after the act.
 Ghulam played his next Test at the age of thirty against the visiting
Englishmen at Kanpur in the fourth Test of the 1951-52 series. He bowled
with great control and purpose picking up 5 wickets for 70 alongside
Mankad’s 4 in the first innings and a sole wicket for 10 in the shortened
second innings as England won by 8 wickets. Three weeks later, at Madras,
Ghulam picked up 4 wickets as did Mankad, as together they spun India to
her first-ever Test victory. The annals of Indian cricket history would now
always include Ghulam Ahmed’s name in its pantheon of the nation’s
greats.

Spinners Hunt in Pairs, Trios, Quartets …

It is often said that fast bowlers hunt in pairs, but they are far from being the
only ones. As we shall see throughout the book, spinners who complement
each other are as effective when they operate in tandem. In fact, when the
spinners are as tireless as Ghulam Ahmed and Vinoo Mankad, they are even
more difficult to get away for a batsman. This fact would be proved in
ample measure in the years to come as the spin tradition in India continued
to evolve, manifesting itself sometimes in duos, often in trios and
occasionally in quartets.
When Ghulam was picked for the 1952 tour to England and Mankad
was not, it looked like Ghulam would have to bear the burden of the
bowling in a surprisingly spin-depleted side. While the Indian team
struggled, Ghulam picked up 80 wickets at an average of 21.92, including
15 of the 39 wickets to fall in the four Test matches at an excellent average
of 24.73. He took 5 wickets in the first innings of the opening Test
including the scalps of Len Hutton, Dennis Compton and Tom Graveney. In
the next Test, Mankad joined the squad and the two bowled in tandem once
again to pick up 8 wickets between them.
Ghulam’s performance not only earned him accolades as one of the
leading off-spin bowlers in the world but sealed a permanent place in future
Indian teams for the exponents of the hitherto absent art of off-spin.
On his return to India in 1952, Ghulam was, of course, an automatic
choice for the series against Pakistan. Pairing with Mankad at Delhi he
picked up 4 for 35 and also scored a half century in the company of Hemu
Adhikari. Mankad took 13 wickets in the match, the combination helping
India secure the victory. Ghulam’s haul in that series was 12 wickets at an
average of 27.00.
In that series, for the first time in the history of Indian cricket, three
spinners of different types—Mankad with his left-arm orthodox spin,
Ghulam with his off-spin and Subhash Gupte with his leg-breaks—operated
together. It would be an early precursor of a formula that India was to make
its own in subsequent years.
Madhav Apte played against Ghulam for Bengal against Hyderabad
and extensively in the practice nets before the West Indies tour of 1953. He
recalls: ‘Ghulam had the turn, but not the flight and guile of Prasanna who
came many years after him. He had a beautiful smooth action. But like the
other spinners, he did not have the fielding support like the later spinners
did. The ground fielding was good, but the catching was abysmal and hence
the figures of all the early spinners suffered in comparison to their
successors.’13
In 1953 when India toured the West Indies, Ghulam was in the team
but did not finally travel to the Caribbean citing personal reasons.
In 1954-55, when India toured Pakistan, it was with a spin quartet—
Mankad, Ghulam, Gupte and a second off-spinner, Jasu Patel. Ghulam
played in 4 Tests and took 9 wickets, 5 of them in the first Test at Dhaka. In
1955-56, he played only one Test, against New Zealand, a leg injury
keeping him out of the rest.
The first Test against Australia in 1956 was again a turning point for
Indian spin. It was the first and only time the spin quartet of Mankad,
Ghulam, Gupte and Patel played together. Ghulam’s haul was 2 for 67 off
38 overs. He withdrew from the second Test at the Brabourne stadium.
Back in Calcutta for the third Test, Ghulam put on the performance of
his life. Before the hapless Aussies realised what was happening, Colin
McDonald, Jim Burke and Neil Harvey had been dismissed and the score
was 25 for 3.
Partab Ramchand describes Ghulam’s performance in the first innings
in his book The Gentle Executioners, thus: ‘Harassed by his immaculate
length and direction and puzzled by his alluring flight, even the top-order
batsmen did not know how to handle Ghulam who was making the ball turn
and bounce awkwardly.’
Ghulam was taken ill for a while and Mankad and Gupte made no
impression in the meantime. Immediately after lunch Ghulam returned and
sent back Peter Burge, Richie Benaud, Ray Lindwall and Pat Crawford in
rapid succession. Benaud and Lindwall were both deceived in flight and
bowled through the gate. Ghulam’s innings figures were an incredible 7 for
49 in 20.3 overs. He ended the match with his only 10-wicket haul, picking
up 3 in the second innings. Poor batting by India and Richie Benaud’s haul
of 11 wickets would enable Australia to win the match.

Captaincy and a Life Beyond the 22-yards

When the West Indies came to India in 1958-59, Ghulam was handed the
captaincy of the team. It would turn out to be a poisoned chalice. An injury
forced him to skip the first Test, and the second and third Tests would see
him oversee heavy defeats for India despite a magnificent effort of 9 for
102 from Gupte in the second Test at Kanpur. Garry Sobers and Rohan
Kanhai with two magnificent efforts of 198 and 256, respectively, in the 2
Tests would ground the Indian attack to dust.
To make things worse, Ghulam himself managed only 1 wicket for
162 runs in the two Tests from 56 overs. He was dropped and replaced as
captain for the rest of the series by his fellow tweaker, Vinoo Mankad.
In 1959, Ghulam chose to sign off on his cricketing career with a haul
of 68 wickets from 22 Tests played over a decade at an average of 30.17
and impressive first-class numbers of 407 wickets at 22.57.
He would become a successful administrator and stay associated with
the game. From 1975 to 1980 he was the secretary of the BCCI, and during
this part of his career Ghulam Ahmed earned tremendous respect for his
integrity and his contributions as an administrator and selector for the
national team.
But as Abbas Ali Baig wistfully told me: ‘Sometimes I wished he had
been less upright in his stand of recusing himself from selection meetings
while players from Hyderabad were being discussed. Perhaps I and a few
others would have got more chances with the backing that selectors from
other zones provided for their own.’14
Ghulam Ahmed passed away in 1998 at Hyderabad, aged seventy-six.
It is a pity that India’s first great off-spinner, and one who had been
favourably compared to Jim Laker, would not leave behind more impressive
bowling figures. But as Sujit Mukherjee rightly pointed out in Playing for
India, ‘Had Ghulam Ahmed gone to England in 1946 or Australia in 1947,
he would have sharpened his weapons on adequate whet-stones and
obtained fullest development as an offspinner of world-class.’

Polly Umrigar
While Ghulam Ahmed was India’s first great off-spinner, there was
someone whose debut preceded his by a few days in the same West Indies
series. This newcomer could lay claim to be an exponent of the same craft,
albeit not as a frontline bowler. Pahlan Ratanji Umrigar, popularly known
as ‘Polly’ and by later generations as ‘Polly Kaka’ (Polly Uncle), stormed
his way into the side at the Brabourne Stadium in December 1948 as a
batsman. In a side whose top order boasted the likes of Vinoo Mankad,
Vijay Hazare and Lala Amarnath, that was no mean feat. He scored 30 and
failed to take a wicket with his off-spin on debut as India followed on and
drew that match. But over the next fourteen years he would be a pillar of
the side and battled on at the centre with his batting even when everything
was lost for the team. He would then come in to bowl crucial spells that
would turn around matches for India.
In 1959 at Kanpur against the West Indies (a match that is described in
greater detail in the pages that follow), it was Jasu Patel who grabbed the
headlines with his magnificent first-innings bowling performance. But in
the Australian second innings, on a turning track when the visitors were set
225 to win in the second innings, it was Umrigar with his off-breaks who
got rid of the dangerous Neil Harvey, arguably the most Bradmanesque
batsman in Test cricket of the day and the last of the Invincibles still
playing. Umrigar then went on to take 3 more wickets finishing with 4 for
27 as Patel grabbed another 5 to craft India’s first-ever victory against
Australia.
In his final season, playing the fourth Test of the series against West
Indies at Port of Spain in 1962, Umrigar bowled a staggering 56 overs of
off-spin in the first innings picking up 5 for 107 as the hosts put on 444. He
then made 56 of India’s first innings score of 197. When India followed on,
Umrigar stroked his way to a magnificent 172 not out in just over four
hours of batting while Salim Durani scored 104, the two taking India to
422. It was not enough to finally save the match but with this performance,
Umrigar became the only second man other than Vinoo Mankad to score a
century and take 5 wickets in the same match.
In a career spanning from 1948 to 1962, Umrigar, a permanent fixture
in the middle order, scored 3,631 runs from 59 Test matches at an average
of 42.22 and took 35 wickets with his useful off-spin at 42.08 run apiece.
He was a brilliant fielder both at first slip and in the outfield at a time when
the catching abilities of the Indian team was universally recognised to be
substandard. Umrigar was also the first Indian to hit a double century. He
may not lay claim to have been an all-rounder of the stature of Mankad but
his contribution to Indian cricket in the early post-independence era was
significant.
After retirement, Umrigar continued to serve Indian cricket as
chairman of the selection committee, tour manager and BCCI executive
secretary. He passed away in November 2006, at the age of eighty, after
losing a prolonged battle with lymph cancer.

Jasu Patel

Kanpur 1959 A Test Match that De ned a Career

In 1959, when the Aussies landed on Indian shores, this time to play just
two Tests, there was no reason to believe that their unblemished record
against the hosts would be dented by the end of the series. Given that India
came into the series having lost 10 of her previous 13 Tests and Australia
winning 12 of the last 17 losing none (beating South Africa 3-0 in South
Africa, West Indies 3-0 in West Indies, England 4-0, and becoming the first
team to beat Pakistan in Pakistan the previous month), the result of the
series appeared to be a foregone conclusion. An Aussie victory by an
innings and 127 runs in the first Test at Delhi only added to the inevitability
of it all.
And then the teams came to Kanpur.
G.S. Ramchand was leading an Indian side low on achievements and
short on confidence. What Ramchand had going for him, however, was the
wily Lala Amarnath in his corner as the chairman of selectors. Kanpur had
a newly laid turf pitch to replace the traditional matting wicket that teams
visiting Kanpur had experienced in the past. The turf had been treated with
river water containing grains of sand. Amarnath figured that the only
chance India had against the rampaging Aussies was to surprise them with
the unexpected.
Ramchand recalls the conversation between Amarnath and himself:
‘The choice was between Kripal Singh and Jasu Patel. Lalaji and I went to
see the wicket. There was not a blade of grass on the strip. He asked me
who I wanted to include in the team. I said Kripal would be an asset as he
could bat too. However, since Kripal was also away from cricket, we
decided on Jasu, as he was an orthodox spinner and we felt he could exploit
the conditions better.’
Jasu Patel was actually far from being orthodox in the conventional
sense. He had a whippy bowling action and used the seam to great effect,
something that was to earn him mention decades later when the chucking
controversy with Muttiah Muralitharan was at its peak. That was
unfortunate because the reason for his action was a bowling arm that had
been broken from a fall off a tree in childhood. It had never fully fixed
itself. Patel’s strength was his ability to direct the ball at specific spots on
the pitch, almost at will.
Amarnath’s decision would be either ill-conceived or inspired, based
on how Patel performed on the Kanpur pitch. Thus far, he had played 4
Tests and taken 10 wickets in a career spanning five years. At the age of
thirty-five, with greying hair bouncing on his head as he bowled, Patel was
pretty much semi-retired when he received the fateful call.
Ramchand won the toss, and with deepening certainty that the pitch
would be a turner, decided to bat first. After a sedate start by Pankaj Roy
and Nari Contractor that yielded 38 runs, it was all about the Aussie
bowling. With Alan Davidson at the peak of his powers as an all-rounder
and Richie Benaud at his best, taking 9 wickets between them on a track
that was turning after the first hour, the Indian innings folded up for 152
after 70 overs.
When the Aussies came out to bat, (in a pattern that would establish
itself as the norm for the Indian teams of the period) Ramchand took
himself and bowling partner Surendranath off after 10 overs, having given
just enough time for the new ball to lose some of its lustre. With a glance
towards the pavilion where Amarnath was seated, he then threw the ball to
Jasu Patel.
 No miracle happened. Gavin Stevens eventually fell to Patel, miscuing
a drive straight back to the bowler. Neil Harvey came in and at lunch,
Australia was in a strong position at 128 for 1 with Colin McDonald and
Harvey going strong.
When Ramchand returned to the dressing room, he found an agitated
Lala Amarnath pacing back and forth nearby, a pipe held firmly at the
corner of his mouth. Not so subtly, Lala pointed out that Patel was bowling
from the ‘wrong end’ with the footmarks made by Davidson waiting to be
exploited lying unused at the other.
After the break, the change was effected and the transformation in
Patel was almost miraculous. The first ball spun and went through
McDonald’s hitherto impregnable defence. Norm O’Neill joined Harvey
and the two took the score to 149, although both struggled to read and play
Patel. O’Neill miscued a ball to Bapu Nadkarni at mid-wicket who floored
the catch. In hindsight, this could have been the wicket that put Jasu Patel’s
name above Jim Laker’s in the annals of bowling. But as things would turn
out, Neil Harvey would be bowled by Patel and Chandu Borde would get
through the defence of O’Neill right after he stepped out to hit Borde and
was bowled missing the flight completely.
McKay, Benaud, Jarman and Lindsay Kline followed in quick
succession and finally Alan Davidson’s single-handed defiance came to an
end with his middle stump knocked back. The last man, Rorke, was caught
by Baig off the next ball. Australia had gone from 149 for 2 to 219 all out.
Patel’s magical spell-binding spell had yielded 8 wickets for 24 runs
and his final figures read 35.5-16-69-9. This would remain the best innings
figures by an Indian bowler until 1999 when Anil Kumble picked up a 10-
wicket haul at Delhi against Pakistan.
Despite Patel’s heroics, when the Indian openers strode out to the
wicket to begin their second innings, they were 67 runs behind. Nari
Contractor (74), Borde (44), Ramnath Kenny (51) and Nadkarni (46) helped
take the score to 291. Alan Davidson once again bowled his heart out and
finished with figures of 7 for 93, recording a haul of 12 wickets for the
match.
India had set Australia a target of 225 to win. It was not ideal but
Ramchand knew that getting 225 on this pitch was never going to be easy.
By the end of the fourth day, Patel had dismissed Stevens and Umrigar
(also bowling his off-breaks) had got the vital wicket of the dangerous Neil
Harvey. The next morning, before the first cup of chai had been sold in
chilly Kanpur, Norm O’Neill was gone. McKay, Benaud, Jarman and Kline
would not trouble the scorers. Umrigar would take 4 wickets and Patel
would take 5.
Chandu Borde recalls: ‘The Australians were staying with industrial
magnate Singhania in his mansion. It had a swimming pool. Many
Australian players were relaxing in the swimming pool on the final morning
when they got the message that wickets were falling. They literally rushed
to the ground in their towels.’ 15 They would find a veritable procession of
Aussies floundering at the deep end of the proverbial pool. Australia was all
out for 105 and India had her first victory in ten attempts over the mighty
Aussies.
Jasubhai Patel, an unheralded, semi-retired off-spinner from the textile
town of Ahmedabad who had been called upon suddenly to play this Test,
had magical figures of 14 for 124. This would remain the best match figures
by an Indian bowler for thirty years until Narendra Hirwani made his debut.
Richie Benaud would wryly comment many years later: ‘Jasu Patel
was not the greatest off-spinner in the world. But that day, on that pitch, he
was far too good for us.’
The Indian government conferred the Padma Shri on Jasu Patel
alongside Vijay Hazare, making them the first recipients of the honour
among cricketers. The Indian Post Office released a first-day cover with his
picture and achievements. The exploits of Jasu Patel even appeared as a
two-page comic strip at the end of one issue of Amar Chitra Katha, a source
of illustrated history and mythology to generations of Indians.
Jasu Patel’s Test career was limited to 7 Tests between 1953 and 1959,
during which time he bagged 29 wickets at an average of 21.96 including
the 9-wicket haul at Kanpur. Primarily looked upon as a matting wicket
specialist, chances were hard to come by for him with Ghulam Ahmed in
the mix. In first-class cricket, Patel would pick up 248 wickets at an average
of 21.70 in a career spanning eighteen years.

V.M. Muddaiah
The giant presence of India’s first great off-spinner Ghulam Ahmed had
both inspired and denied entry into the team a few followers of his genre
until he was ready to retire. One such man was Wing Commander
Venkatappa Musandra Muddaiah from Bangalore (now Bengaluru). His is a
fascinating story.
Muddaiah joined the newly formed Indian Air Force in 1948, at the
age of nineteen. Soon he was found ‘medically unfit for flying’, and left the
Air Force since he could not fulfil his dream of being a pilot. While in the
Air Force, he had started playing at the first-class level for the Services
team, enjoying a dream start, taking 8 for 54 against Southern Punjab in
1949. After leaving the Air Force, he played for his home state of Mysore
in the 1951-52 season and picked up 6 wickets in an incredible 8-over spell
against Bombay in the Ranji Trophy semi-final. Mysore still lost by an
innings.
But his calling clearly was in the defence of the realm, and he went
back to the Air Force as an Air Traffic Controller the following year, and
there he remained until his retirement in 1979. For the rest of his first-class
career, Muddiah continued to play for the Services in the domestic circuit
with a year spent representing the Hyderabad team in 1953-54.
Muddaiah started his career as a medium pacer and quickly turned to
off-spin, but unusually, didn’t give up his fifteen pace run-up. Over the
course of a fourteen-year domestic career, Muddaiah picked up 175 wickets
at 23.76.
His Test debut would however need to wait until 1959, when Ghulam
Ahmed finally retired from the sport. That year Muddaiah was part of the
Indian squad to England and he picked up 30 wickets in first-class matches
on the tour, but sadly did not make his debut. The following winter his
chance would finally come against Australia at Delhi. In the sole Australian
innings during that Test, Muddiah was the most economical bowler but
failed to take a wicket. He was replaced by Jasu Patel at Kanpur, with
spectacular results for Patel, and a stint in the wilderness for Muddaiah for
the next year or so.
His next chance came against the visiting Pakistanis at Kanpur the
following winter. This time the spinner would not be denied. In the first
innings he dismissed the young prodigy Mushtaq Mohammad and followed
it up with two of the three Pakistani wickets to fall in the second innings,
that of openers Hanif Mohammad and Imtiaz Ahmed in a drawn encounter.
That would sadly be the end of Muddaiah’s Test career. With the
arrival on the scene of Erapalli Prasanna, Muddaiah realised that his
chances of making a return to the team at the age of thirty-three were slim.
He retired from first-class cricket, fittingly playing his last match for the Air
Force in the semi-finals of the Moin-ud-Dowlah Gold Cup tournament in
1962-63.
 Subhash Gupte
Leg-Spinner Extraordinaire

‘If Subhash Gupte had received the fielding and catching support
available to modern players, and if his career had not ended the way it
did, getting to 800 to 1,000 Test wickets for him would have been par
for the course.’
—Erapalli Prasanna16

e West Indies Tour of 1953

Years before Clive Lloyd’s pace battery made health insurance premiums
for opposition batsmen shoot up, the Caribbean islands of the 1950s were
the official burial ground for the morale of hapless opposition bowlers. As
ships leisurely transported cricket teams to the Caribbean, bowlers had
enough time to reflect on the punishment that would be meted out by the
three Ws—Frank Worrell, Clyde Walcott and Everton Weekes.
It was at such a juncture that in January 1953 India’s cricketing sons
arrived to do battle in the West Indies for the first time.
G.S. Ramchand, one of India’s early genuine all-rounders, was to say,
‘Bowling to the Three Ws was no joke. They were merciless. You got one
out and another W emerged.’ By the end of the tour, self-deprecating
humour was the only way to handle the situation. Frank Worrell did not
have a great run compared to his two colleagues for much of the series.
Ramchand recounts: ‘Worrell was grace personified, he would bat superbly
for 30 or 40 runs and invariably got out to a marvellous catch. We used to
tell Frank: “The other two Ws are murdering us, why don’t you get some
runs?” He would reply: “Don’t worry, it will come soon.” And it did, in the
final Test, where he got 237.’17
Such then was the opposition that the Indian team faced when they
landed in Barbados by boat from London for the two-and-a-half-month-
long tour, their fourth Test series in eighteen months. It was an unusually
busy schedule for the times, but no one in the team was complaining. India
had been an independent nation for less than six years, and a generation of
gifted players were eager to express themselves.
The final result of the series was a credit to the talent and spirit of the
visitors. In the 5-Test series, India drew 4 matches and lost just 1, a result
that could just as easily have gone in India’s favour. In all the first-class
matches, India remained undefeated and had a solitary victory against
Jamaica to their credit.
While India’s batting gave a good account of themselves with some
excellent displays by Polly Umrigar, Vijay Manjrekar, Pankaj Roy and
debutant opening batsman Madhav Apte, all the accounts of the tour are
unanimous that there were two outstanding aspects about India’s display
through the tour.
The first was the brilliant ground fielding.
No Indian team before this, and none until the turn of the next century,
displayed ground fielding of this class. Indo-West Indian Cricket, a slim
volume by co-authors Frank Birbalsingh and Clem Seecharan, about the
West Indian cricketers of Indian origin, provides some fascinating insight. It
quotes Ivan Madray from British Guyana who watched this series as an
eighteen-year-old and later played two Tests for the West Indies: ‘It was a
fantastic fielding sight … like lightning in the field. They chased the ball to
the boundary as if their lives depended on it; picked it up and hurled it in
one motion right above the bails. Effortlessly. Cleanly. All day.’
The second was Subhash Gupte.
Alongside Vinoo Mankad on this tour, he would form a magnificent
spin duo. He had made a less than auspicious debut against England on a
lifeless pitch in Calcutta in 1951-52. Recalled a year later, he overshadowed
Ghulam Ahmed, picking up 5 wickets in the third Test against Pakistan at
Bombay in 1952-53. On the basis of this performance, Gupte was added to
the touring party to the Caribbean.
 In the 5 Tests in the West Indies, Gupte took 27 wickets at 29.22, and
Mankad gathered 15 at 53.06. The rest of the Indian bowlers together
picked up 20. In the first-class matches, Gupte alone accounted for 50 of the
107 wickets to fall at an incredible average of 23.64, given the punishment
meted out by the West Indian batsmen. In the only first-class match Indian
won against Jamaica, Gupte’s haul was 12 wickets.
In its tour report the Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack gushed: ‘[Gupte]
flighted and spun the ball so cleverly that few of the West Indies’ batsmen
faced him confidently.’ The West Indians were so enamoured by this spin
magician from India, they even gave him a new name—‘Fergie’, after a
local bowler. The name would stick and he would, henceforth, be called
‘Fergie Gupte’. Seldom had a spinner gone from relative nonentity to world
renown in the course of three months.

Subhash Gupte Spinner Extraordinaire

Unlike his first spin partner, Vinoo Mankad, Subhash Pandarinath Gupte
was the product of the Bombay cricket nursery—Shivaji Park. Born in
Bombay in 1929, he had started his cricket like most Indians do, bowling
with a tennis ball to a batsman holding a piece of wood with a handle nailed
in, in a narrow cul-de-sac called a gully. Gully cricket had taught him
control, for there was literally no room for error. His younger brother, Baloo
Gupte, a Test cricketer himself, said that Subhash was so good even at that
time that no window panes were ever broken in the lane while he bowled,
as batsmen simply could not read him.
The gully Gupte grew up bowling in still exists but it is called the
Sandeep Patil Gully, named after a later cricketer whose exploits with the
bat recent generations remember and relate to. But it was at Shivaji Park,
where he honed his skills bowling to his friend and contemporary Vijay
Manjrekar, that Gupte became the bowler the West Indians were to face
with such difficulty years later.
For decades since he first made his presence felt on 22-yard strips
around the world, commentators have waxed lyrical about Gupte’s bowling.
Partab Ramchand writing in Gentle Executioners was Cardusian in his
description of how batsman fared against Gupte: ‘As long as they stayed at
the crease it would be an ordeal for them. To spot his googly was akin to
finding one’s way in a fog, one just groped blindly forward and hoped for
the best. To differentiate between Gupte’s leg-break and top spinner was the
most difficult “exam” for a batsman.’
In the best traditions of spinners, Gupte was not afraid of getting hit,
for in aggression lay opportunity. While the terrible Indian close catching
let down all the spinners, and it was not until the advent of Pataudi that this
would change, Gupte soldiered on with his many variations, largely
unruffled by dropped catches or leaked runs.
Ivan Madray again: ‘On a number of occasions when he was hit, he
would stroll back, thoughtfully, to his bowling mark, as if nothing had
happened. And when you thought he was giving you the leg-break again, he
would bowl his beautifully disguised googly or he would toss it up or shift
it. He would try everything in one over, a different ball each time. And
rarely did he lose control; it is so easy to make mistakes when you are
trying so many things. He made few.’
Over the course of his decade-long career, Gupte picked up fans of his
bowling in a manner his social-media-age descendants would envy. The
word spread quickly and very soon he was being hailed as the best leg-
spinner in the world. Before the modern fan assumes this is
intergenerational hyperbole, it must be pointed out that Gupte’s career
coincided with Australia’s Richie Benaud and they both bowled to some of
the best batsmen against spin the twentieth century was privileged to
witness. Apart from the three Ws there was Garry Sobers, Conrad Hunte,
Rohan Kanhai, Colin Cowdrey, Ken Barrington, Peter May, Neil Harvey,
Bob Simpson and Bill Lawry.
Sir Garry Sobers who has never made a secret of his admiration for
Gupte’s bowling, wrote in his 2002 autobiography Garry Sobers and then
again in 2010, ‘To me, Shane Warne is a great turner of the ball … but in
my estimation Subhash Gupte was a better leg-spinner. He didn’t play a lot
of Test cricket but he took a lot of good wickets. He was so accurate, varied
the flight and pushed it through, and he could bowl two different googlies.
He could do things that I still don’t believe all these years later.’ That is a
stunning statement from one of the world’s greatest cricketing legends who
has spent over fifty years playing and watching cricket at the highest level.
But Sir Garry is not alone in his view.
Mankad once told his son, Ashok Mankad, an accomplished Test
cricketer for India in his own right, that if there was something called magic
in cricket then Gupte was the magician. Abbas Ali Baig who played a few
of his early Tests with Gupte told me that he was ‘the best leg-spinner I
have ever faced or seen. He could turn the ball on any wicket.’18 Madhav
Apte calls him ‘the greatest leg-spinner of his time with an unreadable
googly’. 19 Sir Everton Weekes speaking to Tony Cozier in Cozier’s last
book Everton Weekes—An Appreciation rated Gupte ‘the best leg-spinner I
ever faced,’ alongside Richie Benaud.
E.A.S. Prasanna, the greatest off-spinner of his day and a man known
for his ability to flight the ball, ranks Gupte the greatest leg-spinner of all
time. He credits Gupte for having taught him the art of flighting the ball.
Prasanna played against Gupte in his last domestic match for Central Zone
against South Zone. He describes the stalwarts of Indian batting—Pataudi,
M.L. Jaisimha, Abbas Ali Baig—at sea against a man at the end of his
career. In the two-and-a-half overs Prasanna faced, Gupte’s ability to vary
the flight using different release heights for the ball with a perfect side-arm
action where the bowling arm followed the left, was a huge early lesson for
him.

e Peak Years 1953 to 1958

In 1954-55 when India visited Pakistan, originally there were to be four
Tests on turf and one on matting. A Pakistan Services Team met Bombay
Cricket Association President’s XI in a match some time before the tour.
The encounter was on a turf strip. Playing for the Services team was
Pakistan captain Abdul Hafeez Kardar who had emigrated to Pakistan in
1947, and bowling to him was Subhash Gupte. His 10 for 78 in the innings
resulted in an SOS being sent back to Pakistan by Kardar. When the Indian
touring party arrived on the shores, awaiting them were three Tests on
matting and two on turf. The change did not alas have the intended result.
Gupte picked up 21 wickets on the tour at 22.61 apiece, at ease on
matting as he was on turf. Mankad picked up 12 and Ghulam 9. It is worth
noting that in the five plus decades since, no Indian spinner has come
remotely close to replicating Gupte’s wicket haul or his bowling average in
Pakistan.
The series was drawn 0-0 but Gupte’s reputation was soaring and he
was now the acknowledged hero of Indian cricket. Remarkably, but perhaps
unsurprisingly, then as it is now, cricketing heroes largely tended to be
batsmen. D.B. Deodhar, C.K. Nayudu, Vijay Hazare, Vijay Merchant, Lala
Amarnath, had all ridden the popularity stakes at one time or another. Gupte
had become the first bowling superstar of Indian cricket.
The question being asked was, when would Gupte win a series for
India? The answer came in 1955-56 with the arrival of the Kiwis on Indian
shores. In the first innings of the opening Test at Hyderabad, Gupte sent
down 76.4 overs and picked up 7 for 128 on a pitch that was a batsman’s
dream. On the same surface, Mankad and Ghulam managed 1 each. But it
was Gupte’s 8 wickets in the second Test at Bombay that brought India the
first victory of the series by an innings and 27 runs. The third and fourth
Tests were drawn despite some excellent bowling by Gupte. In the fifth at
Madras, he picked up 5 for 72 in the first innings and Mankad scored a
brilliant 231, putting together a record opening partnership of 413 with
Pankaj Roy. Mankad then picked up 4 wickets to add to Gupte’s 4, in
spinning India to another innings victory.
Gupte had delivered the series for India picking up 34 wickets at
19.67. All other Indian bowlers together had gathered 32 victims.
Remarkably, in picking up this haul, Gupte had also sent down 152
maidens, almost unbelievable in its frugality for a leg-spinner.
In 1956, the Australians arrived with Neil Harvey in their ranks with a
plan to counter Gupte, whose reputation had now spread far and wide.
While it would be wrong to say that this series was the beginning of
Gupte’s decline, it would be fair to remark that Harvey and his mates had
the better of the exchanges in this series.
About Harvey, in his book on Australian captains On Top Down
Under, Ray Robinson writes: ‘Had Michelangelo been a cricketer he would
have batted like Harvey, with the touch that made chips of marble fly
everywhere as he pressed on with the creation of a great piece of sculpture.’
Robinson goes on to describe Harvey’s way of playing spin: ‘No player
today travels so far along the pitch to drive … Yet not one stumping
occurred among his 127 dismissals in Tests.’
Harvey took the responsibility of countering Gupte on his own
shoulders and became the first batsman to so succeed. He used brilliant
footwork to counter the flight and spin and often took the ball on the full.
Gupte failed to claim his wicket through the series. 8 wickets from 96 overs
in the series, though far below his own lofty standards, was not to be
scoffed at while India lost the three Test series 0-2.
 The 1958-59 series against the West Indies was a journey back to a
familiar zone for Gupte. In a bizarre series from an Indian Board politicking
and player ego perspective that resulted in four different captains being
appointed for the five Tests, Gupte rose above such distractions to redeem
his reputation.
In the first Test at Bombay, on a flat track, he took 4 for 86 and
reached the 100-wicket hall in his twenty-second Test. Then in the second
Test at Kanpur on a matting wicket, he reached what was to be the pinnacle
of his career, and forever earned the admiration of Sir Garry.
The West Indies line-up, although now missing the three Ws, had its
next generation of batting superstars. There was Conrad Hunte at the top of
the order, followed by batting genius Rohan Kanhai and Garry Sobers. It
was against this line-up that Gupte came in to bowl with West Indies at 55
without loss.
From the moment he got Hunte to balloon an unplayable googly to
Borde at mid-on, the West Indies knew they were in trouble. Garry Sobers
was all at sea against his varying flight but based on the confidence of his
142 in the previous Test, ill-advisedly pulled a leg-break pitched just short
of length to Hardikar at mid-wicket. Kanhai completely misread a Gupte
googly and was bowled for a duck. He would later describe Gupte as ‘a
man with enough mystic powers to perform the Indian rope trick.’
At lunch West Indies was tottering at 88 for 6, all the wickets going to
Gupte. Debutant Joe Solomon (who would soon earn worldwide fame as
the man whose brilliant run out resulted in the first Tied Test) joined captain
Gerry Alexander for a dogged 100-run partnership. But then Gupte came
back and mopped up the rest. If wicketkeeper Naresh Tamhane had not
dropped Lance Gibbs, Gupte would have become the second man to have
taken all 10 wickets in an innings, forty years before Anil Kumble achieved
the feat. Gupte did not forgive Vasant Ranjane for bowling Lance Gibbs,
telling ESPN Cricinfo’s Rahul Bhattacharya many years later: ‘Vinoo
Mankad would have tossed it wide.’ In the end, Gupte would finish with 9
for 102 from his 34.3 overs.
West Indies won the Test on the back of a magnificent 198 from Garry
Sobers in the second innings which Nari Contractor says would never have
happened but for a bad umpiring decision. ‘In the second innings, Sobers
was actually out, caught behind off Gupte again when he had made just
two. I was standing nearby and could hear the snick clearly, but he was
given not out and went on to score big.’ An abject surrender to the pace of
young Wesley Hall followed from the Indian batting line-up. Gupte finished
the series with 22 wickets, unable to replicate the brilliance of the first
innings in the Test matches that followed.

A Bizarre End to a Brilliant Career

In 1959, Subhash Gupte finally made his first tour of England, seven years
after he should have. He took 17 wickets in the 5 Tests and would have
taken many more but for the fact that the Indian catching on that tour of
England, even by its less-than-exemplary standards, was simply abysmal,
perhaps the worst on any tour. Abbas Ali Baig who made his debut on that
tour remembers playing against Gupte for Oxford University: ‘His flight
was impeccable and his googly impossible to spot. I just could not pick it
and was bowled.’ 20 India would lose the series 0-5, the first time an Indian
side had suffered such a humiliation in England.
In 1959-60, Gupte decided he needed a break and took on a coaching
assignment in the West Indies, giving up the chance to have another go at
the visiting Australians. On this trip he would spend time with Carrol
Gobardhan, whom he had first met and fallen in love with in 1953, a lady,
his lifelong friend Madhav Apte describes as ‘a lovely Trinidadian from
San Fernando’. Gupte and Carrol were later married in a quiet ceremony in
Bombay attended by Apte, his wife Sheila and a few close friends and
family.
But before that, there was cricket yet to be played. In 1960-61 Gupte
was back in the side against Pakistan. In a mundane drawn series, each side
afraid of losing to its neighbour, Gupte took 4 for 43 in the first Test but the
8 wickets in 3 Tests was a modest haul for a man of his talents. In 1961-62
when England came to India, Gupte had his last hurrah at Kanpur, causing
an English collapse from 87 for 1 to 100 for 5. He took Mike Smith’s
wicket twice in the second Test, for a duck each time. The third time when
he dismissed Smith (for 2), in the first innings of the third Test, Gupte,
unbeknown to him at the time, had claimed his victim wicket in Test
cricket.
The end of Gupte’s career came when the teams were staying at the
Imperial Hotel in Delhi for the third Test. Gupte was sharing Room 7 with
off-spinning all-rounder A.G. Kripal Singh. Having taken a fancy to the
receptionist on his way up to his room, Singh called the reception and asked
her out for a drink. The girl, perhaps mistaking the nature of the call,
complained to her boss, an Army man. The boss spoke to the Indian team
manager.
Along with Singh, Gupte was suspended, his only crime being that he
happened to share a room with Singh. In an exchange at the enquiry held in
Madras later that must get a prize for its sheer senselessness, the Board
secretary A.N. Ghosh opined that Gupte should have prevented the phone
call being made. A disgusted Gupte sarcastically replied that his 5’6” frame
was smaller than Kripal’s and so he had been unable to physically do so.
M.A. Chidambaram, the Board president, in what was surely the lowest
point of his otherwise exemplary administrative career, asked the selectors
not to pick Gupte for the West Indies tour.
A disappointed and dejected Gupte, now under no illusions about the
politics in the Board and his future, emigrated to the West Indies on his
wife’s persuasion. A gentleman named Frank Blackburn, who was ‘mad
after cricket’, offered him a job with the sugar manufacturer, Caroni. Gupte
lived in Trinidad happily with wife Carrol and daughter Carolyn until he
passed away in 2002.
Mihir Bose in A History of Indian Cricket sums it up best when he
writes: ‘So India’s first great spinner ended his career because he happened
to share a room with a man who wanted to have a drink with a girl. Only in
India could it have happened.’
 e Spin Trio
Nadkarni, Borde and Durani

‘Is it the Duleep Trophy or the Durani Trophy?’

—K.N. Prabhu in the Times of India in 1971-72

On a winter evening at a fireside chat about Indian spin, discussion often

turns to the Spin Quartet. But a full decade before the famous Quartet, there
was a Spin Trio. And unlike their more famous successors who only ever
played as a Quartet in one Test match, these three were to play together on a
number of instances.
Bapu Nadkarni, Chandu Borde and Salim Durani, India’s first Spin
Trio, were a formidable group to negotiate for any batting side. Nadkarni
rewrote the definition of accuracy, stifling the batsman with his unrelenting
line and length. Borde carried on the tradition of Indian leg-spin with
masterful control and penetration. Durani, with his turn and guile, was
absolutely unplayable on his day. Clive Lloyd and Garry Sobers are
unlikely to forget their Durani-engineered dismissals at Port of Spain in
1971 when their wickets cost their team the Test and handed India her first
series victory in West Indies.

Bapu Nadkarni

Mr Accuracy Personi ed
On 12 January 1964, the cricket-loving public of Madras woke up at the
crack of dawn (as they are wont to do in that part of the world) ready for a
gripping day of cricket at the Chepauk Stadium. After all, a brilliant 192
from Indian wicketkeeper Budhi Kunderan and a stroke-filled 108 from
Vijay Manjrekar had kept them rooted to their seats for much of the first
two days of the Test. With batsmen like Ken Barrington turning out for the
visiting English side, they could be forgiven for expecting more batting
brilliance on Day 3.
Immediately after lunch with England at 116 for 3 and Ken Barrington
and Brian Bolus at the crease, Rameshchandra G. ‘Bapu’ Nadkarni was
introduced into the attack.
Bapu Nadkarni was not a great spinner of the ball. Baig who played
with him throughout his Test career recalled with amusement: ‘We used to
tease him (Nadkarni) if he did spin the ball and got a batsman out. We
would go up to him, congratulate him and say it must be a holiday
tomorrow to celebrate your spinning the ball.’21
This was a Day 3 Chepauk pitch that had started to take turn and it is
on surfaces like this that bowlers like Nadkarni were most difficult to play.
Bowling to a slip, a short-leg, four fielders patrolling the off-side, and three
on the on, he went into tea with figures of 19-18-1-0. Twenty seven had
been scored in the second session, only one of them off Nadkarni.
With an-hour-and-a-half’s play left, Nadkarni was handed the ball
once again. The early risers of Madras prepared to go back into their mid-
day stupor and not without reason. An hour or so later, a sudden cheer
roused the slumbering citizens. Barrington had finally stolen a single off
Nadkarni after 21 overs.
The newspapers the next day would note that Nadkarni had just
broken Horace Hazell’s world record of 17 consecutive maidens. His final
figures were an incredible 31-27-5-0. Hugh Tayfield had more consecutive
dot balls to his credit; but his 137 run-less deliveries against England in
1956-57 had been bowled in eight-ball overs. Writing about Nadkarni, H.
Natarajan in Cricinfo summed it up: ‘Batsmen had two scoring options to
choose from: nil and negligible.’
In that series against Mike Smith’s 1964 England side, not only was
Nadkarni to finish with figures of 212-120-278-9, but he also topped the
batting averages scoring 294 runs at 98 including his first and only Test
century. This metronomic accuracy combined with undeniable ability with
the bat became his calling card through his career.
But Dilip Doshi, a fellow left-arm spinner who played a lot of cricket
with Nadkarni, firmly believes it would be a travesty to label Nadkarni
merely as a run scrooge: ‘Bapu Nadkarni was dubbed as a defensive or
mechanical bowler because he could bowl maiden after maiden. But he
could be a match-winning bowler in his own right. It is true that Bapu was
not a natural spinner of the ball, but I saw him very closely and I can tell
you he had a beautiful rhythmic economical action. He didn’t toss the ball
but he flighted it beautifully into the spot where he wanted it with a quick
arm action and varied his length and flight very cleverly.’ 22

e Early Career
The gap between Bapu Nadkarni’s debut and last Test was thirteen years,
but only for about six of those was he a regular in the Indian side. Gupte
formed an early triumvirate with Mankad and Ghulam, while Nadkarni
waited in the wings for three years after his debut against New Zealand in
1955. In that match at New Delhi, Mankad rested himself allowing young
Nadkarni to play. On a dead pitch, Nadkarni bowled 54 overs and conceded
132 runs without reward in a New Zealand total of 450 for 2. He then
scored an unbeaten 68 in India’s response of 531 for 7.
His next appearance would be three long years later when he took his
first international wicket in the 1958-59 series against the touring West
Indies side at Brabourne Stadium in Bombay, picking up 2 for 69. In the
meantime he continued to be a force to reckon with on the domestic circuit.
His tally of 500 first-class wickets at 21.37 and 181 Ranji Trophy wickets at
17.52 speaks volumes about his capabilities. In the Ranji Trophy he would
also end up with almost 4,000 runs at an average of 62.39 and 12 centuries.
In 1959, Nadkarni ventured on his first overseas tour to England. This
was the series when a young classy right-hand stroke-player Abbas Ali
Baig, studying at Oxford, was pulled in to the Test side to replace an injured
Vijay Manjrekar. Baig made a magnificent 112 on debut at Old Trafford.
Baig would go on to play quite a bit with Nadkarni over the course of
his career. He told me that Nadkarni was ‘a terrific asset to the side given
that he could dry up the runs at one end forcing the batsmen to have a go.
He had phenomenal control over his bowling, sending down over after over,
maiden after maiden, until the batsman got fed up and made a mistake.’ 23
On this tour, however, Nadkarni’s contribution as a bowler to the team’s
fortunes was 9 wickets at minimal cost. In relative terms he was a success
as India lost all 5 Tests.
When Australia came to India later that year, Nadkarni was in the
team. His main contribution, as Jasu Patel ran through the opposition at
Kanpur and gave India her first-ever victory against the Aussies, was with
the bat; contributing 71 over the two innings. But he would come into his
own in the following Test at Bombay, picking up 6 wickets for 105
including the prize scalp of Neil Harvey.
Harvey decided to attack, having seen Nadkarni bowl in the previous
Test with unerring accuracy. While largely successful at the start, Harvey
perished at his hands in the end. Not only had Nadkarni taken 6 of the 7
wickets to fall but five of his victims had been bowled, with Richie Benaud
trapped in front of the stumps. It was testimony to the bowler’s relentless
accuracy.
Many years later when Dilip Doshi visited Australia in the early
1980s, Neil Harvey would tell him: ‘I never hear people mentioning Bapu
Nadkarni while discussing Indian spinners because he didn’t toss the ball.
But he was so accurate.’ 24 This is a theme that runs through my
conversations with most cricketers of the time who played with Nadkarni.
A year later Pakistan toured the country and the spin trio of Nadkarni,
Borde and Gupte would start operations in tandem. It was almost inevitable
that Nadkarni would be a pain in the neck for the Pakistani batsmen given
his impact on the Aussies. At Kanpur, he conceded 29 runs off his 39 overs.
At Calcutta, his first innings figures were 6-5-4-0, and in the final Test at
New Delhi he did everything in his power to get an Indian win but his 86.4-
62-67-5 was eventually not enough to take India over the line.

e Peak and Final Years

Between 1962 and 1966 Bapu Nadkarni would get his only extended run in
the Indian side playing 19 Tests on a trot, starting with the final Test against
England (where he was joined by the young debutant off-spinner Erapalli
Prasanna). Nadkarni picked up a crucial wicket in each innings, recording
6.1-6-0-1 in the first, accompanied by a score of 63. India registered the
first series win against England.
The five Tests in West Indies would yield him 236 runs, 9 wickets and
a reputation for being ‘mean’ with the West Indian batsmen like Garry
Sobers, Rohan Kanhai and Frank Worrell simply unable to get him away.
Nadkarni’s figures in the last two Tests read 130-55-195-4.
Back home, the 1963-64 season awaited the Englishmen and the spell
of 21.5 successive maiden overs, described at the start of the chapter, would
make Bapu Nadkarni a legend in his own time.
But once again, it was the prospect of having another go at the
Australians that made Nadkarni rub his hands in glee. In October 1964, he
would return the best figures of his career, bagging 5 for 31 and 6 for 91 in
the first Test at Madras. Unfortunately, that would not be enough to prevent
an Aussie victory. However, his 6-wicket effort in the second Test at
Bombay would help India register a memorable win.
A story that Kersi Meher-Homji relates in From Bradman to Kohli
puts an entirely different and humorous spin to that Bombay victory.
Meher-Homji recounts: ‘Titori Pav was a cricket fanatic but cricketers
avoided him because he brought them bad luck. To be wished good luck by
him resulted in the cricketer scoring a duck or dropping a sitter. To shake
hands with him could result in a broken arm or catching influenza. A
Cricket Club of India member saw possibilities and introduced Titori to his
hero Norm O’Neill who was one of the mainstays of Australian batting. He
(Titori) warmly shook hands with his hero and wished him best of luck.
O’Neill developed stomach pains half an hour after the Test started. They
were so severe that he took no part in the Test. As India won by two
wickets, O’Neill’s absence was keenly felt.’
But back to Nadkarni. Four wickets in the four Tests that followed
against the visiting Kiwis was a poor return and his cupboard remained bare
in the first Test against the West Indies in the 1966-67 series where his three
fellow specialist spinners were among the wickets. The four members of the
new Spin Quartet had made their appearance when the tour of England
came around the following summer. Nadkarni was unsurprisingly dropped
and this time it appeared to be for the final time.
But six months later when the time came to select the touring party to
Australia and New Zealand, Tiger Pataudi chose to add Nadkarni to the
line-up given his successes against Australia. In Australia, however, it
would only be Prasanna who made an impact in terms of wickets while
Nadkarni frustrated the batsmen from the other end.
Bobby Simpson was to mention to Dilip Doshi years later about the
tour: ‘It was Prasanna who bought the wickets on that tour but the guy who
troubled us a lot and we couldn’t get away was Bapu Nadkarni.’25
And when the team travelled on to New Zealand there was a last
hurrah yet to come from Nadkarni. Bowling magnificently alongside
Prasanna in the first Test at Dunedin, his figures of 48.3-26-44-3 would help
India secure a 5-wicket victory, the country’s first Test win abroad. In the
third Test at Wellington, Nadkarni notched up the best bowling spell of his
career. The 6 for 43 from his 30 overs helped India win by 8 wickets.
In his final innings in Test cricket at Auckland, Bapu Nadkarni gave
himself a fitting send off with bowling figures that could not have been
better scripted by a moviemaker. The scoreboard would read against the
name of Bapu Nadkarni: 2-1-1-1.

Chandu Borde
‘A curious bird-flap with both arms commenced his delivery, at the end of
which he spiralled leg-breaks of ample flight into enemy territory’ went the
usual lyrical description of Chandu Borde in action from Sujit Mukherjee in
Playing for India. Abbas Ali Baig is more economical in prose but captured
the essence of Borde’s role in the team when he describes to me his former
teammate: ‘A bowler who flighted the ball and had a very well-disguised
googly with which he got many wickets. He came on as a change bowler
and very often it produced results.’26
Unlike his fellow spinner Nadkarni who played primarily as a bowler,
Borde would take time before he made his mark with the ball despite his
undeniably skilled fingers, and would first cement his place as a batting all-
rounder. It is indeed unsurprising that the presence of Subhash Gupte in the
side gave him limited opportunities to make a mark as a leg-spinner.
In three Tests against the West Indies in 1958-59 and on the tour of
England in 1959 Borde took very few wickets, clearly under-bowled by
captain Dattajirao Gaekwad. Back home, against Australia that winter, it
was Jasu Patel and Polly Umrigar who would do the bulk of the bowling
and take the lion’s share of wickets. To Borde would go the unasked-for
distinction of taking the catch that denied Jasu Patel all 10 wickets in the
match at Kanpur. In the final Test at Calcutta, Borde showed signs of his
effectiveness by taking 3 for 23 including the wickets of Colin McDonald,
Richie Benaud and Alan Davidson. He followed that up with 4 for 21 in the
third Test of the series against Pakistan, again at Calcutta. Through this
entire period Borde was used by his captains as a change bowler.
In the 1961-62 series against England, for the first time, Borde was
used as a frontline bowler. He responded by picking up three-wicket hauls
in the first innings of both the Tests at Bombay and Kanpur. In the fourth
Test at Calcutta, he bagged 4 wickets breaking through the England top
order to help India win the match by 187 runs. For a good measure, Borde
also top scored with 68 and 61. In India, he teamed up with Durani to help
India win the first-ever series against England. Borde’s series haul was an
impressive 16 wickets at 28.75 apiece.
Durani would say about bowling with Borde in a 2016 interview: ‘We
formed a formidable spin bowling pair for India. I think you should lavish
more praise on Bordesaheb. He was an exceptional all-rounder. He was a
leg-spinner, so he complemented by bowling well since I was a left-arm
spinner.’
Notwithstanding the fact that he had proved his mettle as a mainline
spinner, Borde was once again treated as a change bowler when India
toured West Indies, denting his confidence. In the following series when
England again came to town a year later, Borde was less effective taking 9
wickets against the 16 in the previous series. Among the 9 wickets was a
marathon spell of 67.4 overs in the first Test when he bagged 5 for 88.
A shoulder injury in 1964-65 ended Borde’s career as a bowler, his
haul a disappointing 52 wickets, given his talent. He would more than make
it up with his batting, finishing his Test career with a healthy average of
35.59 from 55 Tests.
After a first-class career that stretched from 1952 to 1974, Borde
continued to be involved with the game. He was the manager of the Indian
team for a while and a part of the selection committee that picked India’s
1983 World-Cup-winning team. V.V.S. Laxman tells me about watching
Chandu Borde in action as a selector: ‘He had the ability to look at a player
batting or bowling for a short while, be able to instinctively decide the long
term potential and have the conviction to back his judgement. And most
times he would be proved right.’ Borde went on to become the chairman of
the selection committee of BCCI for a total of five years over the next
decade-and-a-half. He was one of the few cricketers of his era who
provided yeoman service to his nation both during his playing days and
after retirement.

Salim Durani
Indian cricket and the movie industry have been closely linked for many
decades. Sunil Gavaskar, Sandeep Patil, Salil Ankola, Syed Kirmani, Ajay
Jadeja and a few others have all appeared in one or more films. Others like
Tiger Pataudi and Virat Kohli have married movie stars. But if a film was
ever to be scripted involving only Indian cricketers, there is one man who
would walk into the lead role uncontested—Salim Aziz Durani.
Durani, in fact, starred in a Hindi film Charitra, opposite Parveen
Babi. The real romance of Durani was, however, played out on the cricket
grounds across India and the world during the day and in the hearts of
millions of female fans once stumps had been called. Salim Durani would
end up breaking stumps and hearts in equal measure.

e Early Years
It was in Kabul that Salim Durani was born in 1934. But it was in
Jamnagar, the home of his Gujarati mother where his father played cricket,
that Durani grew up and took to the game himself, first as a wicketkeeper
and then as a left-arm spinner and an attacking batsman.
Durani’s father, Abdul Aziz, was a fine wicketkeeper and a useful
batsman who played for undivided India in one ‘unofficial’ Test against
Jack Ryder’s visiting Australians in 1935 at the Eden Gardens. Opening the
batting with Wazir Ali in the second innings, Aziz took two catches and
scored 12 runs.
In 1947, at the time of the Partition of India, Abdul Aziz decided to
move to Pakistan while his Gujarati wife stayed back in India with young
Salim. Aziz became a renowned coach in Karachi and one of his famous
protégés was the original ‘Little Master’—Pakistani legend Hanif
Mohammad.
 Young Salim never really psychologically recovered from the broken
home and much of the issues that he would encounter later in life would
trace their origin to the impact on the young mind of this early trauma. In an
interview years later, he would simply say: ‘It was a bit difficult but as time
moved on, we got used to it.’
Durani would move to Rajasthan on the advice of Vinoo Mankad who
was captaining the state’s Ranji Trophy side at the time and play for two
years under Mankad’s leadership. In 1960, Lala Amarnath’s selection
committee drafted him into the team facing Richie Benaud’s Australians.
Jasu Patel came down with a case of food poisoning after his famous 9-
wicket haul in the Kanpur Test, enabling Durani to make his debut as a
spinner.

e Debut and First Phase of the Career

Salim Durani made his debut at Bombay on 1 January 1960. Despite his
undeniable talent with the bat, he was sent in at number ten and he scored a
respectable 18. Then in the Australian first innings of 387 for 8 declared,
Durani, officially in the team as a spinner, was not given the ball. The
Australians batted out 140 overs. In the meaningless Australian second
innings, as the match meandered to a draw, Durani bowled a solitary over
conceding 9 runs. Unsurprisingly, he was dropped.
In the 1960-61 Ranji Trophy season, Durani was exceptional in
picking up 35 wickets at an average of 10.95 and took Rajasthan to its first
final. In the final, he had innings figures of 8 for 99 against Bombay and
shot back into national reckoning.
Durani was back in the team for the Bombay Test when England
visited in 1961-62. But in an early reflection of the degree to which his
bowling prowess would be underestimated throughout his career,
contemporary accounts before the match expected his contribution to be
more with the bat, given the presence of Borde, along with V.V. Kumar and
Kripal Singh, the spinners from Madras.
But on the perfect batting pitches that were produced for the first three
Tests, the designated spin trio was completely ineffective. Coming in as a
change bowler, Durani was the only one who troubled the visitors. With his
high-arm action, sharp turn and an almost unplayable arm ball, he
consistently dismissed the two best batsmen of the side—Ken Barrington
and Ted Dexter. For good measure he also scored 71, coming in at number
six.
Then the teams came to Calcutta for the fourth Test, and awaiting
them was the first sporting wicket of the series.
Durani, in a devastating spell of 23 overs, picked up 5 for 47 in the
first innings and followed it up with 3 for 66 in the second, helping
consolidate India’s victory. A week later in Madras he took 6 for 105 and 4
for 72, bowling India to another victory. In his first full Test series, Durani
would come away with an astonishing tally of 23 wickets at 27.04. Years
later, with a shake of his head, Ted Dexter, reminded of his inability to get
Durani away, would tell Dilip Doshi, ‘Salim Durani was a match winning
cricketer and India didn’t realise it.’27
In 1962, when India toured the West Indies, Nadkarni and Durani were
the mainstay of the Indian bowling while putting in significant
performances with the bat. Durani emerged with 17 wickets (and a century
and a half-century to boot) while Nadkarni bagged 9 wickets in a series the
West Indies swept 5-0.
Sujit Mukherjee writes about the contrasting bowling styles of the two
left-arm spinners in Playing for India: ‘The impetuous Durani attacked the
batsmen all the time, never content merely with keeping runs down and not
unduly concerned with how many he gave away so long as he got his man.
His surreptitious nip off the wicket enabled him to obtain sudden turn and
lift to surprise the opponent … Nadkarni’s bowling was motivated by an
instinct for thrift, not unexpected in a Saraswat brahman, which made him
concentrate on an un-driveable pitch on unvarying length about three inches
outside the off-stump to right-handed batsmen. He would vary his normal
away turner with one that went straight after pitching. And all the time
gentle variations of a fairly full flight kept batsmen reconsidering their
premeditated desire to run out and hit him on the half-volley.’
It is little wonder then that when the two bowled in tandem, opposition
batsmen found themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place in their
desire to keep wickets and the scoring rate up at the same time.
Durani was a regular in the Test side through the home series against
England in 1963-64 and Australia and New Zealand in 1964-65. He was
dropped from the squad after the first Test against the touring West Indies in
the 1966-67 season despite scoring a half-century in each innings. While
the emergence of Bishan Singh Bedi was cited as a reason for axing him,
Durani believes he was unfairly targeted for not playing the Calcutta Test
which he says he missed due to his wife’s illness and the team management
terming it as indiscipline.
Years later, talking about his captaincy with Sambit Bal, Tiger Pataudi
admitted: ‘Every team has a couple of difficult characters—in my time
there were a few. Salim Durani was one. I felt I couldn’t handle him very
well.’28 When asked to respond to this comment a few years later, Durani,
ever the gentleman, would say: ‘As far as Pataudi is concerned, he was the
best captain I played under. He was always aggressive and enterprising in
approach. Look, he had to manage not just me but fourteen other cricketers
as well, so he couldn’t possibly channelise all his energy on me. I am,
solely, responsible for all my performances, good or otherwise.’

e Second Innings
Four long years in the wilderness later, for which he perhaps is rightfully
disappointed to this day, Durani made a comeback to the team in 1971 for
the tour of West Indies. In the second Test at Port of Spain, India had taken
a 138-run lead in the first innings thanks to a magnificent century from
Dilip Sardesai and a 65 from young Sunil Gavaskar. The West Indies was
rolling along at 150 for 2, and the match appeared to be slipping away from
India.
In an interview with Mumbai Mirror, Durani talks about what
happened next: ‘In the West Indies second innings, attacking batsmen such
as Garry Sobers and Clive Lloyd went defensive against Venkataraghavan.
They looked distinctly uncomfortable. I thought I could trouble both Lloyd
and Sobers. I had a word with M.L. Jaisimha, and I asked him to request
Wadekar if he could allow me an over. Wadekar readily agreed.’
This would perhaps be Ajit Wadekar’s single biggest contributing
captaincy decision in the outcome of the series.
In a conversation with ESPN Cricinfo, Durani said: ‘After pitching
some deliveries outside off to Garry, I pitched one on this rough spot just
outside the off-stump. It hit the spot nicely, turned a little, beat his defence,
went between bat and pad and took the off-stump. He couldn’t believe it
and walked back muttering, “Oh, Jesus.” I couldn’t control my happiness,
and was jumping in jubilation. Clive was another big wicket. He was a great
on-side bat, and never missed once he got to the pitch of the ball. Having
made him play a few outside off, I over-pitched one on the off-stump, but
with a lot of turn. Clive attempted to lift it over my head. I had brought Ajit
to short midwicket, guessing Clive would go for the shot. He mistimed it,
and the ball was pouched well by Ajit.’
With two stunning deliveries Durani had broken the backbone of the
West Indian batting, and the innings folded up for 261. India knocked off
the 125 runs with 7 wickets to spare and won their first Test in the
Caribbean. This victory would eventually be the difference between the
teams that decided the series, India’s first series victory abroad after New
Zealand in 1967.
As Durani rightly put it: ‘After that victory a new kind of enthusiasm
infused Indian cricket. That was the time when the real interest in cricket
sort of started. The Indian public had been hungry for a victory of this kind
for long.’
Having bowled magnificently, the temperamental Durani was
surprisingly ineffective for the rest of the series and was dropped after the
third Test and for the tour of England that followed. Disturbing
unconfirmed rumours would come out of the touring party and persist for
years that the easily tempted Durani had been encouraged to indulge in, and
indeed been plied with, liquid ambrosia of the West Indian kind through the
tour, ensuring his performance on the field during the Port of Spain victory
that had threatened some affected colleagues would not be repeated.
In 1972, Durani almost single-handedly lifted the Duleep Trophy for
Central Zone causing noted writer K.N. Prabhu to write a story headlined
‘Duleep Trophy or Durani Trophy?’ Based on this performance, Durani
would be selected for the homes series against England in 1972-73.
In the second Test at Calcutta, Durani top scored with 53 in the second
innings guiding India to a 28-run victory against the Englishmen. In the
third Test at Madras, he held the innings together and again took India to
victory with a high score of 38, including two sixes belted out of the ground
on demand by the spectators. Skipping the fourth Test at Kanpur because of
an injury, Durani hit a brilliant 75 in the first innings of the fifth.
This would be Durani’s swan song as he was never picked to play for
India again. A final act on the field would define the man that he was.
Durani had not been offered the ball by the captain virtually through the
series. When Bishan Singh Bedi went off to attend to an injury in the last
Test, captain Wadekar tossed Durani the ball, gesturing that he wanted him
to bowl. The proud Afghan threw it right back with the words: ‘I am not a
change bowler.’
Of all the early players who ever played for India before the advent of
limited-overs cricket and specifically the T20 format, Salim Durani would
probably have enjoyed it the most. In an interview to Cricket Country in
2012 he would say: ‘IPL is great entertainment and I would have loved to
play T20 cricket. The biggest advantage of IPL is that young domestic
cricketers get a global platform to exhibit their talent and a couple of fine
performances ensure them recognition and rich dividends. I wish the BCCI
brings the IPL flair in our domestic tournaments. That will help our
domestic cricket and we’ll see more quality youngsters coming through.
Cricketers who slog away relentlessly in domestic circuit deserve more than
what they are getting now.’ Sitting in his Jamnagar home, which he rarely
leaves these days, Salim Durani will undoubtedly be pleased at the talent
that the IPL is bringing into the national team and the number of youngsters
who are being financially rewarded unlike in his time.

Two Good Men

Before wrapping up this section on India’s early spin journey, two lights
which shone briefly on the Indian spin firmament deserve mention.
When Subhash Gupte was banished unceremoniously from the team
on the most ridiculous pretext ever invented by the incompetent bureaucrats
who ran Indian cricket for decades, his place was taken by his brother
Baloo Gupte, not far removed in skill as a leg-spinner. Sadly, while Baloo’s
contemporaries like Madhav Apte are lyrical about his abilities, in the Test
arena, Baloo Gupte was unable to replicate his first-class form (where he
bagged 417 wickets at 24.88 apiece). The 3 wickets he picked up at a
shocking cost of 116.33 runs apiece in the trio of Tests he played between
1961 and 1965, does scant justice to his reputation.
The leg-spinner who was then tried as a replacement for Subhash
Gupte, V.V. (Vaman) Kumar must, however, count himself extremely
unlucky to have played in only two Tests where he picked up 7 wickets
(including a 5-wicket haul on debut against Pakistan in 1961 with a wicket
in his very first over in Test cricket) at a healthy 28.85 average.
 After his debut haul, Vijay Hazare, the chairman of selectors,
remarked: ‘We have a spinner for another ten years.’ But that was not to be.
Forced to play his second Test against England with a wrist injury, Kumar
would enjoy little success. By the time he had recovered, Tiger Pataudi had
discovered a match winner in Bhagwat Chandrasekhar and Kumar’s
chances of making a comeback had disappeared. Kumar would have to be
happy with his phenomenal first-class record of 599 wickets earned at only
19.98 runs apiece.
Author, former diplomat and current politician Shashi Tharoor
summed it up well when he wrote in a 2011 article in ESPN Cricinfo that
Kumar (and Padmakar Shivalkar) were, ‘… arguably just as good as, and
quite conceivably better than, many of those who donned Indian colours
before and after their time, but the tragedy of chronology meant that they
hardly got a look in for their country.’
For Indian cricket, it was time to move on to its greatest era as far as
spin bowling was concerned. The Spin Quartet was knocking at the door.
 Section 2
THE SPIN QUARTET
 Pataudi and the Blue Ocean of Spin

‘Tiger was always one step ahead in his understanding of the game.’
—Dilip Sardesai

In 2004, two marketing professors at INSEAD (originally an acronym for

the French Institut Européen d’Administration des Affaires or European
Institute of Business Administration), one of the world’s leading business
schools, W. Chan Kim and Renee Mauborgne, came up with a theory on
business strategy that was to stun the world. Blue Ocean Strategy would go
on to sell 3.6 million copies and forever change the way we look at building
successful businesses.
The premise was simple and intuitive. A leader of a business trying to
grow and move up to that next elusive level has a difficult job because there
are typically hundreds of companies producing similar products and
competing for that industry leadership position which everyone seeks to
achieve. They called it the ‘Red Ocean’—the crowded space where
everyone is fishing for the same catch using the same means.
So how do you then make your presence felt? By doing things
differently, they opined. In their terms, you create your own ‘Blue Ocean’—
an uncrowded space or a unique approach which involves thinking out of
the box and turning onto its head the traditional way of doing things.

Tiger Pataudi Discovers His Blue Ocean

Having the weight of expectations of a billion people on your shoulders is
unenviable at any time, but when those shoulders are that of a twenty-one-
year-old, the burden must feel even heavier. Not that the young Nawab of
Pataudi let anyone see this through the public school training and royal
upbringing that had taught him to rein in his emotions and internalise them.
The outside world only saw the finished product—an unruffled young man
taking charge of a team that was largely made up of players significantly
senior to him in experience and achievement.
Nonetheless, when Nari Contractor suffered a head injury after
ducking into the ball and being hit by a delivery from Charlie Griffith in a
tour game and twenty-one-year-old Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi was asked to
step up into the captaincy of the Indian side in the fourth Test of the 1961-
62 series against the West Indies at Port of Spain, no one expected an easy
transition. Sure enough, it was not.
But that single act of faith, in placing a one-eyed twenty-one-year-old
young man playing his first overseas series in charge of a team with a
combined experience of half-a-century of Test cricket, was destined to
change the history of Indian cricket.* It would provide legitimacy to the
youthful disrespect of convention, something no Indian captain from the
past had had the benefit of. Perhaps there had been no captain who could
carry it off like Tiger Pataudi would do.
Pataudi would combine tactical boldness with originality of thinking
as few leaders are able to do. He was acutely aware that bagging 20 wickets
of the opposition in a Test match mattered more than a century or two from
the batsmen. He quickly figured out that the reason India had so little to
show as far as victories in test cricket were concerned three decades after
she played her first Test match was because the team had rarely been in a
position to bowl out the opposition twice on a regular basis.
After Amar Singh and Mohammad Nissar, India had never produced a
fast bowler of any significant pace. When Pataudi took over the team, Rusi
Surti opened the bowling in that Test match. Surti was a batsman first, a
brilliant fielder next and a bowler when his team needed him to be. His 42
wickets at 46.71 from 26 Tests owed as much to the fact that he bowled a
lot of overs as it did to his skill with the ball. Opening the bowling with him
was M.L. Jaisimha who in a 39-Test career was to take all of 9 wickets at a
Bradmanesque average of 92.11. It was an immediate example of the
challenges facing the team.
 Early in his captaincy, Pataudi decided to step away from the trodden
path. He looked at the past and present of Indian bowling and realised that
there was little merit in continuing down the farcical path of including in
the team part-time bowlers and gentle medium pacers who were otherwise
ineffective. There was after all no rule that dictated the presence of pace
bowlers in a side. What India had always produced in ample measure were
good spin bowlers. So how could this be turned to India’s advantage?
Early in Pataudi’s captaincy innings, Erapalli Prasanna came into the
team, followed by B.S. Chandrasekhar and Srinivas Venkataraghavan.
Bishan Singh Bedi joined them as the fourth spinner of impeccable class
and variety. With such richness of talent available to him, Pataudi decided
that he did not need to include medium pacers and part-time opening
bowlers in his team. He would play to his strengths, which was spin,
convention be damned.
In a captaincy move that he was to explain thus years later, he decided
to play his best bowlers, all of whom happened to be spinners, if necessary,
all at the same time. As Australian journalist Mike Coward told me, ‘Tiger
Pataudi gave the entire cricket world a magnificent gift and legacy by
entrusting so much to the incomparable spinners.’
In 1967 at Birmingham, for the first and only time, Prasanna, Bedi,
Chandra and Venkat played together for India. To rub in the impact of his
own Blue Ocean strategy in no uncertain manner, four decades before it
became mainstream, Pataudi had wicketkeeper Budhi Kunderan open the
bowling for India to take the shine off the ball.
The Spin Quartet, Pataudi’s Blue Ocean strategy was ready to take
the world by storm.

e Early Learnings
In a freewheeling interview with Sambit Bal for Wisden Asia Cricket
magazine in 2002, Pataudi discussed captaincy. A sentence that jumps out
at you reads: ‘A good captain must have a fair idea about the limitations of
his side.’ This was something that may not have been completely obvious to
the twenty-one-year-old when he took over the team in the West Indies. But
time and experience would teach him this important lesson fairly rapidly.
The other lesson he would learn even faster would be that politics
within Indian cricket was not only convoluted but very regional and
divisive in nature. Scyld Berry in his book Cricket: The Game of Life
astutely observes: ‘Alone of Test-playing countries, India had to build a
national team out of a population that spoke 800 languages.’ Berry goes on
to say: ‘I was told by more than one Indian Test player of the 1950s that a
fielder from one region might not try to stop the ball if the bowler came
from another.’ Berry was not alone. During the course of writing this book,
I heard the same refrain from three different Test cricketers of that era.
Catches were dropped and runs were conceded for this reason alone in that
era.
C.D. Gopinath, talking about his experience on the tour to England in
1952 a decade before Pataudi arrived at the helm, confirmed Berry’s
remark: ‘In practice we were only a group of several different states where
the people were so diverse that each one spoke a different language, wore
different attire, ate different kinds of food and above all thought differently
too. When these diversities were put together as a team the differences were
all too evident. Over the years we have had great players as individuals but
rarely played as a team; many suffered as a result of this kind of
parochialism where players were pulling in opposite directions within the
team.’
These then were the two major issues that Pataudi had to tackle in
order to captain the team effectively and change the trajectory of Indian
cricket.

Playing for India An Idea Implemented

In that Wisden interview Pataudi revealed something very important about
himself that gives a clue about how he tackled the regionalism and
parochialism within the team. He talked about the importance of education.
‘Education is important. Education gives you some kind of depth, an
outlook on your own life and life outside. It makes you less parochial.’
Every time Bedi talks about Pataudi he mentions something that was
at the core of the change he brought to the team. ‘He was the first leader of
Indian cricket who told everybody in the dressing room, “look you are not
playing for Delhi, Punjab, Madras, Calcutta or Bombay, you are playing for
India. You are Indian.”29 That left a very very good mark on the minds of
youngsters who played under him.’ Berry reminds us in his book about the
impact of Pataudi’s attitude: ‘India’s spinners of the 1960s needed the
support of infielders and close catchers and finally they were given it.’
It is ironic that it took a nawab of a small principality outside Delhi,
educated at public schools in England and a graduate from Oxford to unite a
team divided by regionalism. He moulded them into a single unit and taught
them how to think like Indians.
Forget everything else. Even if India had never become the team it
was under his captaincy, even if the first overseas victory had not come
under his watch, even if he had not discovered his Blue Ocean, Mansur Ali
Khan ‘Tiger’ Pataudi would deserve to be called India’s greatest captain for
achieving with the cricket team and introducing into the dressing room, if
only for a few short years, what India’s national leaders are still struggling
to accomplish with the country seventy-two years after independence—the
idea of Indianness.
For that idea of Indianness to take permanence, however, it would take
many more decades. What was started by the Nawab of Pataudi would
finally be completed by the Prince of Calcutta. Forty years after Pataudi
took the first steps, many hiccups later caused by vested interests from the
west, north and south zones, all taking turns, Sourav Ganguly would finally,
permanently, root out the regionalism and parochialism from Indian cricket
and hand over the reins of national leadership to M.S. Dhoni, a humble
railway ticket collector from the small town of Ranchi. Finally, in the new
millennium, Pataudi’s quest for Indianness would become an unlikely
Indian reality.
But the roots of this change indubitably lay with the young Nawab of
Pataudi.

Discovering the Limitations

The first step on the journey to discover your team’s limitations is to realise
your own. Fortunately, the mature head on his young shoulders helped
Pataudi realise very quickly that given his handicap of the eye he lost in an
accident just before his foray into Test cricket, he could not hope to lead
from the front all the time. His captaincy would have to be different.
He talks about two kinds of captains in that interview with Wisden, the
‘captains who were great players themselves—(Don) Bradman, (Garry)
Sobers, (Richie) Benaud. They led by the sheer force of their performance.’
Then, very self deprecatingly, he says: ‘Then there were captains like
(Mike) Brearley, (Ray) Illingworth, myself to an extent, who were not the
best players in their sides. We had to push the team from behind, get the
best players to perform to the best of their ability.’
Pataudi developed a captaincy style that was to endear him to
teammates and fans alike. He had a plan, a strategy and he knew how it
should be executed. He laid out the plan and let the players get on with it.
But when he found a player who needed to be motivated or helped
along with advice, Tiger was always at hand.
G.R. Vishwanath was a distinct beneficiary. Vishy was perhaps the
most talented batsman that Tiger had at his disposal and yet he had the
tendency to lose focus and throw his wicket away just when he was getting
into the groove and the team needed him out there. Tiger was always there
to guide and motivate. The various aspects of what made Pataudi different
as a captain come out clearly from this telling statement from Vishwanath
about making his debut: ‘Though Tiger was from north and I was from
south and played against each other in Ranji Trophy and Duleep Trophy
tournaments many times, he insisted on my inclusion in the Test team to
play against Australia.’ Not only did Tiger insist on his inclusion, knowing
the way the selection committees of the time worked, he also told the
chairman of selectors Vijay Merchant that Vishy had to be in the playing
XI. In his first Test, when Vishy scored a duck in the first innings, Tiger
went up to him and asked him to go with his instincts and assured him a big
score awaited him in the second innings. Vishy rewarded him with a
century on debut.
Bishan Singh Bedi, another beneficiary of Pataudi’s captaincy style,
says: ‘Nawab Mansur Ali Khan of Pataudi was the best captain the spin
quartet played under. He got the best out of all of us at various stages of our
respective careers. Whatever little else was to be done was achieved by Ajit
Wadekar … If you scored a 100 or picked up 5 wickets—a simple nod from
Captain Pataudi was good enough to spur you to greater achievements.’30
Pataudi’s approach to picking a team was based on a simple principle:
‘Pick your best team. Pick the best batsmen, pick the best bowlers. It
doesn’t matter who you are playing or where.’
While the philosophy was good, the biggest limitation that Pataudi
found in picking the team was in the bowling. No matter how well you read
the game and how you choose your team, you still needed to get 20 wickets
in a Test match to win the game. Despite being a batsman, Tiger was clear
that the core issue that he had to resolve was finding a set of bowlers who
could consistently take 20 wickets in a Test match—something that had
always been the bane of Indian teams, particularly when playing abroad
away from home pitches. The strategy (if any) of team composition that had
been followed for thirty years had brought few successes. Captains had
changed with the seasons but the way the team was selected and played had
not. Something had to be done.

Formulating a New Strategy for Indian Cricket

Having decided the main difference between India and the rest of the Test
teams was in the bowling department, Pataudi decided to go back to basics
—to look at what India had and what she did not. What did India have that
was different from the rest of the countries? Was there a competitive
advantage that was not being exploited?
He then looked at the bowling attacks the Indian team faced when they
played. How did they pick their teams that allowed them success which
India had never been able to achieve consistently? Why could an England
or an Australia or a West Indies come to India and win matches whereas
India could never win a series abroad in over thirty years?
How could he come up with a strategy that was out of the box and so
radically different than the other teams? So forty years before two
professors at a business school in Paris thought of the idea, Pataudi was
searching for his own ‘Blue Ocean’.

e Components of a Good Strategy

Every great strategy has to have three components, Kim and Mauborgne
would say. Intuitively and with the experience of a few tours and attached
successes and failures, Pataudi found them.

Focus: The objective was to take 20 wickets in a match. To do that you had
to pick your best bowlers. Pataudi would explain later: ‘A bad seamer will
not get you wickets on a green top and a bad spinner will not get you
wickets on a turner. I played four spinners because they happened to be the
best bowlers around. I had no Kapil Dev so playing a seamer just for the
sake of balance was useless.’31

Divergence: By trying to ape what other teams did and following

conventional selection strategies, India had had thirty years of failures (with
a couple of exceptional Test wins) as a team. So it was time to do something
radically different. As a student of the game and someone who valued
knowledge of its history, Pataudi looked at the bowlers who had made an
impact on batsmen under different conditions. Other than Amar Singh and
Mohammad Nissar, who were glaring exceptions, the names of Palwankar
Baloo, Ghulam Ahmed, Vinoo Mankad and a few others who had shown
such consistency popped up again and again. Increasingly, Indian bowling
attacks had been dominated by a few high-quality spinners. So perhaps an
Indian attack could be built around spin?
Pataudi himself had played in the North for the early part of his career
and was familiar with the quality of spinners available there. Then,
serendipity kicked in. One of the beneficiaries of his future strategy,
Erapalli Prasanna, pointed out something very interesting when I was
talking to him about this early phase:
‘Tiger had moved from Delhi to Hyderabad to escape the politics
rampant there which he wanted to have nothing to do with. Once in
Hyderabad, he discovered a rich treasure trove of spin from Hyderabad to
Madras and Karnataka, all of which had world class spinning talent at the
time. The idea of a spin-led attack in his mind was at this time transformed
to a viable strategy.’32

Compelling Tagline: This in Pataudi’s case was less important, not least
because he did not start off with the knowledge that he would have four
world-class spinners at his disposal but as the strategy gained steam, the
concept of a ‘Spin Quartet’ took on a life of its own and became the tagline
that was identified with the strategy.

e Strategy of Spin
It did not happen overnight. With the weight of three to four years of
captaincy behind him, having thrown out conventional wisdom, his mind
now clear about what needed to be done, Pataudi set out to implement his
strategy.
Into his life, like manna sent from heaven, came Erapalli Prasanna
who made his debut just before Pataudi became captain. But for five long
years he had vanished from the cricketing scene, first to complete his
engineering degree after his father’s death and then because he struggled to
make a comeback. When he did come back, in him, Pataudi found an off-
spinner the likes of whom India had never seen before.
Then there emerged like a whirlwind, from the clubs of Bangalore,
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar. His entire journey from street cricket to Test
cricket was to take less than a year. In a man with a polio-affected withered
bowling arm, the one-eyed Tiger found not only a fellow conqueror of
adversity but a leg-break bowler who could bamboozle batsmen and single-
handedly win matches.
From the university system of Madras came the cerebral Srinivas
Venkataraghavan who took pleasure in suffocating a batsman with the
ability to pitch the ball on the proverbial coin and introduce subtle
variations that also kept them guessing about the extent and direction of
turn. You could not escape Venkat even when he wasn’t bowling—every
time you lifted your eyes from your bat, there he was; waiting at gully,
knees bent, arms outstretched, staring at you, waiting for the catch that must
invariably come.
And finally, wearing a bright turban, gliding smoothly between the
umpire and the stumps, with an action smooth as silk that ended in
delivering an innocuous-looking ball no less deadly in effect than a bullet
from a silent assassin, was Bishan Singh Bedi.
The impact the four would have on cricket would be explained best by
Vivian Richards, one of the greatest batsmen of all time, recounting to Bedi
years later a conversation with his father: ‘I remember when I first came to
India, I was seriously intimidated by the fact that there were four spinners
in the team. My father told me; “Viv, you will never ever become a
cricketer unless you go and face these guys and if you can come out
smelling sweet you will be okay”.’
In what must constitute the most glowing tribute to Pataudi’s Blue
Ocean strategy, Richards went on to admit: ‘I was a nervous wreck, I was
seriously intimidated. Why? Because I knew the four spinners that you play
were all quality. Any team would try and preserve their new ball. But you
guys would roll it making sure that it’s roughed up so that you guys could
be in the game as early as possible. That to me was one of the most
intimidating factors that I had have ever come across in the game.’
Ian Chappell tells me about Pataudi’s strategy and his view as an
opposition batsman: ‘The combination of threatening spin bowlers well
captained made batting a challenge but one that I enjoyed greatly.’33
The Spin Quartet had arrived. For seventeen years—from 1962 when
Prasanna made his debut to 1979 when Dilip Doshi, the first spinner outside
the Quartet to make a serious impact earned his debut—the four giants of
spin would rule the world.
Between the four spinners, they took 853 Test wickets. Contrast this
with the 835 taken by Clive Lloyd’s Pace Quartet of Andy Roberts, Joel
Garner, Michael Holding and Colin Craft. Of the 98 Test matches that one
or more of the spinners played together, India won 23, lost 36 and drew 39.
That may not look stunning until we remind ourselves that before the first
of the Quartet arrived on the scene India had won only 7 of the 76 Test
matches they had played. Their arrival heralded a paradigm shift.
As Ajit Wadekar, who succeeded Pataudi as captain and reaped the
full benefit of his predecessor’s Blue Ocean Strategy of Spin explained:
‘They changed the way we played the game. Until the spinners came, our
main aim was not to lose the match. Now we could actually think of trying
to win games.’
Indian cricket had changed gears, and for the first time, the highs of
acceleration would be provided by the Slow Men.

* In July 1961, on the way back from dinner at Hove while playing for
Oxford University against Sussex, Pataudi’s car was hit by a big car pulling
directly into its path. Sitting in the left passenger seat, he turned his right
shoulder to take the impact, but the force was such that a splinter from the
windscreen entered his right eye and dissolved the lens. For the rest of his
career Pataudi batted based only on the vision in his left eye.
 Together ey Spun a Web Around the World
Erapalli Prasanna

‘Pras was the best opposition spin bowler I played against; he was
seeking your wicket every ball he bowled and you knew you were
locked in a serious mental battle each time you faced him. It was one
of the great joys of my cricketing life to do battle with Erapalli
Prasanna.’
—Ian Chappell34

e First of the Quartet Arrives

Tiger Pataudi was only two Tests into his career when in January 1962 an
unassuming twenty-one-year-old joined him in the side against Ted
Dexter’s Englishmen at Madras. Erapalli Anantharao Srinivas Prasanna
picked up only 1 wicket in the second innings while the brilliant Salim
Durani spun a web around the English batting leading India to victory with
a 10-wicket haul. But in those 29 overs it was apparent to Tiger that a
special talent had been unearthed.
Picked for the West Indies tour two months later, Prasanna would only
get to play the Kingston Test. Braving the unrelenting onslaught of a
rampant Rohan Kanhai and Garry Sobers, young Prasanna manfully sent
down 50 long overs to emerge the most successful Indian bowler with 3
wickets against his name as the West Indies piled on 631 for 8 before
declaring and winning the match by an innings.
 It was immediately after this match that due to a life-threatening injury
to Nari Contractor, twenty-one-year-old Pataudi found himself thrust into
national captaincy. It would, however, be five long years before Pataudi
could use the services of Prasanna. Keeping a promise he had made to his
father, Prasanna walked away from the game he loved on his return from
the Caribbean to train as an engineer.
In 1967, now an engineer eager to add the scientific mind to his
natural talent, Prasanna returned to the side with a 5-wicket haul, once
again at Madras against the West Indies. This time it was alongside
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar and Bishan Bedi as part of the Triumvirate and a
crucial cog in the wheel of his captain’s Blue Ocean Strategy of Spin.

e ‘Master of Spin’
Prasanna’s second coming would signal the start of a glorious era in the
annals of Indian cricket. At the helm of affairs was a one-eyed captain
whose batting was sublime, fielding stunning in its brilliance and captaincy
exceptional in its strategy and implementation. Thanks to Pataudi’s strategy
and the presence of four of the greatest spinners to ever play together, in the
decade-and-a-half that followed Prasanna’s return to the side, for the first
time, India would be looked at as a real force to be reckoned with and
indeed feared.
And Prasanna would be at the forefront of the intimidation with his
flight, guile and intent—a master of his craft. The first time Ian Chappell
faced up to Prasanna was in 1969. It was the start of a lifelong quest to get
the better of each other. Prasanna would emerge the clear victor from this
duel and the two would develop a lifelong friendship based on mutual
admiration. Chappell tells me about Prasanna:
‘Pras was the best opposition spin bowler I played against; he was
seeking your wicket every ball he bowled and you knew you were locked in
a serious mental battle each time you faced him. His flight was impeccable.
There were many times when I left my crease certain that I was going to get
to his flighted delivery at least on the half-volley. It never happened; my
estimated time of arrival never coincided with Pras’s appointed
destination.’35
 After Chappell had got to know Prasanna better during their playing
days, he recalls telling him over a dressing room beer: ‘You little bastard,
you’ve got a string tied to that ball and just as I’m about to get to the pitch
of the delivery, you tug on the string. He just laughed and then smiled
knowingly.’
The admiration was mutual. Writing in his 1977 autobiography One
More Over, Prasanna says: ‘My favourite batsman is Ian Chappell. Bowling
to him was a pleasure. His intention was to get on top of you and establish
such mastery that you ran out of ideas. He picked the flight early and was
superb when driving with the spin. Rarely has he played against the spin.’
Chappell goes on to tell me about the time he introduced Prasanna to
Australian off-spinner Gavin Robertson and requested him to give the
young bowler a few tips. During the meeting Prasanna said to the ever-
eager Robertson: ‘Gavin, it’s not an invitation to be hit into the grandstand.
It’s a request to be lofted into the outfield.’ Still talking about flight, he
added: ‘The higher up the bat you hit, the more loft on the shot and the less
distance it will travel.’36
Dilip Vengsarkar, one of India’s greatest batsmen, played extensively
with the Quartet and against them in domestic cricket for many years. He
also observed them closely from his position in the slips in Test cricket. He
told me about a domestic Irani Trophy match where he played for Bombay
against the Rest of India just before making his debut for India in 1975-76.
In that match, Vengsarkar scored a chanceless 110 runs to earn his ticket to
New Zealand in Bombay’s total of 305:
‘Both of them flighted the ball and held it back so they were difficult
to play. I was used to playing Paddy Shivalkar who bowled flatter but spun
the ball a lot. But Prasanna had flight, spun the ball appreciably and also
held it back, making him a difficult bowler to bat against. I was in excellent
form and scored a century but it was not easy to face them.’
Ghulam Ahmed had given his countrymen a taste of what a world
class off-spinner could bring to the team but in Prasanna they found a true
master of the craft. Bowling for him was as much science as it was an art.
In a conversation with fellow off-spinner V. Ramnarayan and Ian Chappell
on ESPN Cricinfo, Prasanna spoke about the art of spin bowling:
‘The arm is always high. You transfer the weight at the release of the
ball, at the highest point. Your weight has to go into the ball so that the ball
traverses that distance. When you are bowling into the breeze or even if the
breeze is coming at 45 degrees, there is what is known as a fish effect which
is normally applied in aerodynamics. You apply that principle while
bowling into the wind with a lot of spin. The ball climbs up. That is the
time the batsman feels he can reach out and he comes out, commits himself
but the ball drops and that is the instant when the batsman invariably and
inadvertently reaches out. That’s when it looks like someone is flying a kite
—controlling the string. (When you are bowling with the wind) you hold
the ball back. You need to allow the ball to float in the air so that it can
carry to the batsman. But again, the ball has to drop. So the spin on the ball,
the RPMs (revolutions per minute) has to be more.’
Rarely will you read or hear a better enumeration of the art.

e Architect of India’s First Overseas Series Win

The Aussie-Kiwi summer of 1967-68 marked a new phase in the annals of
Indian cricket. Tiger Pataudi led a relatively young team down under for a
four Test series each against Australia and New Zealand. While the team
had a few experienced players many of the boys had never played outside
India.
Pataudi’s spin strategy was in play and joining the veteran duo of
Borde and Nadkarni were the younger Prasanna, Chandra and Bedi. The
plans would need slight modification as Chandra picked up an ankle injury
and had to return home after the second Test, somewhat bizarrely replaced
by M.L. Jaisimha, a batsman. It would be another four years before
Chandra returned to complete the Quartet. From now on, it would be Bedi
and Prasanna who would have to be at the forefront of the battle down
under.
The four Tests against Australia in 1967-68 would turn out to be
baptism by fire for the Indian team. It was the first time in twenty years that
India was crossing the oceans to Australian shores. So there was no one in
the team who had ever played in these conditions. What the unsurprising
yet unflattering 0-4 score line at the end of the series (the same result as
Lala Amarnath’s team had achieved) did not reflect was the tale of how a
young off-spinner, spinning a web around the famed Aussie batting while
fighting a lone battle against a superior side and alien conditions, won the
lifelong admiration of fans and the respect of the batsmen facing him.
Picking up a remarkable 25 wickets while his team lost a series 0-4, E.A.S.
Prasanna announced his arrival on the world stage as a force to be reckoned
with.
India lost the first Test at Adelaide by 146 runs but the 42 overs he
bowled had taught Prasanna how to bowl on Australian pitches. Sadly for
Prasanna, he would only get a single innings to bowl at the Aussies in the
second Test at Melbourne as India crashed to defeat by an innings and 4
runs. His 34 overs yielded 6 wickets at an economy rate of 3.11.
In the third Test at Brisbane Prasanna’s second innings haul was 6
wickets for 104, bowling twice as many overs as anyone else in India’s 39-
run defeat. In the final Test Prasanna’s pickings were 7 wickets in another
Indian loss, this time by 144 runs.
The haul of 25 wickets at 27.44 in a 0-4 Test series loss while
remarkable in itself, would have far greater ramifications for Indian cricket.
It would give Prasanna enormous confidence when the battered Indian
squad crossed the Tasman Sea to New Zealand for the next phase of the
tour. Prasanna’s confidence would in no small measure contribute to this
turning out to be a landmark moment in Indian cricketing history.

New Zealand 1968 e Spin Strategy Begins Its

Payback
Only about 1700 kilometres separates Australia from New Zealand as the
crow flies. As far as the difference in cricketing conditions is concerned,
however, they might well be on different ends of the globe.
Pataudi, bred largely in England, found New Zealand’s ‘English
conditions’ to his liking. Prasanna found the batsmen far less equipped than
the Aussies to handle his newfound confidence and ever increasing guile
and ability. It was a lethal combination that would blow away the Kiwis.
Ajit Wadekar, after a wait of two years, scored his Test first century,
Rusi Surti missed his by a run and Bapu Nadkarni bowled like he had not
done in a few years. India had won its first-ever series overseas and Tiger
Pataudi with his attacking brand of cricket and the Spin Strategy had taken
the first step that made the world sit up and take notice. As importantly,
Prasanna had repaid his captain’s faith in no uncertain terms. Bowling
beautifully, he picked up 24 wickets, this time at a measly 18.79 per stick.
His haul from the two tours and 8 Tests had been a remarkable 49 victims.
It was easy to forget that in the preceding six years of his career he had only
played 3 Test matches.

Stamping His Class on Indian Cricket

When Prasanna returned from New Zealand, it was clear that Pataudi’s
strategy was beginning to pay off and he had found the right set of spinners
to implement it. 20 wickets at 21.69 against the visiting Kiwis a year later
brought Prasanna’s career haul to 69 at the end of the 1-1 drawn series. This
was followed by a 1-3 loss to Bill Lawry’s Australia at home.
Notwithstanding the less than satisfactory result for the team as a whole,
Prasanna’s haul at the end of that home season over the two series was an
incredible 46 wickets at 24.02 apiece. In the process, he managed 5-wicket
hauls in an innings four times and one 10-wicket match performance that
winter.
In fact, if the brittle Indian batting and indifferent fielding had not
been in the way, Prasanna would have virtually turned the series against
Australia on its head by himself. Taking 9 wickets each at Kotla, Bedi and
Prasanna had crafted an Indian victory against the strong Aussie batting
line-up of Bill Lawry, Ian Chappell, Keith Stackpole, Doug Walters and Ian
Redpath. Prasanna was the one bowler who held his own in the Tests that
followed but could not prevent the Aussies taking a 2-1 lead going in the
final Test at Madras.
At Madras on the third morning, the Australians were 14 for 2 having
taken a 95-run lead in the first innings. Prasanna started the proceedings
that morning and Doug Walters was taken at short-leg and Bill Lawry
watched helplessly as a ball pitched on his leg stump and hit the off.
Australia was 16 for 4. Ed Sheahan, lulled into a false sense of
complacency having hit Prasanna for two fours, danced down the wicket
and saw his bails being whipped off by a forewarned Farokh Engineer.
Wicketkeeper Brian Taber was caught at short-leg in the next over and with
Australia tottering at 24 for 6, the series appeared to be all but levelled.
Prasanna’s morning figures were 3.2-2-8-4.
In a story that the Quartet would be faced with through their careers—
and indeed the reason critics today are able to point to the lack of wins
commensurate with their dominance—dropped catches and a batting
collapse followed and the Aussies were let off. They went on to win the
match by 77 runs and the series 3-1. Prasanna’s haul was 10 for 174 but
once more he had ended on the losing side.
Prasanna now had 113 wickets with his name inscribed on them. His
average, which had been 43.06 per wicket before the tour of Australia, was
now down to 34.64 in the course of a year, twelve months in which his
status as the world’s leading off-spinner had been confirmed. In this time he
had added 95 wickets to his tally, sending down a staggering 955 six-ball-
equivalent-overs in Test cricket.

‘Pataudi Goes and I Am Worried’

It is hugely appropriate that in his autobiography, One More Over, Prasanna
titled a chapter—Pataudi Goes and I Am Worried—to describe his emotions
and what happened when Pataudi was deposed as captain after the home
series against Australia, for as it turned out, he had every reason to be
apprehensive.
For the 1970-71 series against the West Indies, when chairman of
selectors Vijay Merchant used his casting vote to appoint Ajit Wadekar as
the captain in the place of Tiger Pataudi, Prasanna was at the peak of his
prowess and there was little reason to doubt that he would continue to be
one of the spearheads of the attack. What raised the first doubts in his mind
about the intentions of the selectors was when around the exact same time,
Venkat was appointed to lead South Zone in place of M.L. Jaisimha with
the stated logic that Venkat was more likely to lead India in the long term
than the former. Prasanna’s fears would be confirmed when Venkat was
announced vice-captain for the tour. It was clear which off-spinner would
get preference when it came to choosing between the two.
As things turned out, on the West Indies tour while Venkat played in
all the Tests, Prasanna had to sit out two Tests because of an injury and he
picked up 11 wickets in the 3 Tests that he played, a reasonable but not
earth-shattering performance. His worst fears would, however, be realised
on the tour of England that followed. Not only did Prasanna find himself
out of the roster on many of the tour games, he realised before the first Test
that he was not even in reckoning for the first XI.
Prasanna describes in One More Over what happened: ‘Before the first
Test John Arlott picked the possible Indian XI. My name was not there
because I was supposed to have “a bad arm”. Since when? Who told John
Arlott this? When I bumped into John sometime later, he asked me: “What
is wrong with your arm? The Colonel (Hemu Adhikari) says it is injured.
By the way, are you not on talking terms with the Colonel?” All this came
as a shock to me. How had I offended the Colonel? Why was Wadekar
keeping mum?’
There could have been no other way forward from such a situation but
what transpired was that Prasanna found himself out of the Test team for the
entire tour, his 95 wickets from 16 Tests before the West Indies tour, now a
distant memory. And when Chandra bowled India to that historic Oval
victory in the final Test, the treatment meted out to Prasanna was destined
to be all but forgotten.
While the travail of Erapalli Prasanna was destined to continue a bit
longer, hope came from an unexpected source. On the way back from
England to Bangalore, Prasanna had stopped for the night at the Cricket
Club of India (CCI) in Bombay. Very early the next morning there was a
knock on the door and standing without was Tiger Pataudi.
Prasanna recalls in his book the conversation: ‘Why didn’t you play in
the Tests?’, he asked. Prasanna responded, ‘Well, the tour selectors
presumably didn’t have the necessary confidence in me.’ Pataudi smiled
knowingly. Then told him: ‘You know, Pras, the simplest thing to admit is
that you are beat. But how the hell can you do so? You are still the best
bowler when it comes to spin. They need you, man. They do. You will be
making it easy for them by quitting.’ Prasanna then asked him the question
that had been on his mind for a long time: ‘Have you quit or are you
thinking of making a comeback?’ ‘I am coming back,’ was Pataudi’s
answer.
When Tony Lewis’ England came over that winter, Prasanna was in
the squad but did not make it to the playing XI for the first Test. Despite
Chandra’s 8 for 79 in the first innings, India lost the Test. Wadekar gave
Venkat only 8 overs in the first innings while Bedi and Chandra together
sent down 99 overs. In the second innings Venkat got 16, less than half of
the other two and failed to take a wicket in the match.
Prasanna came back for the second Test at Calcutta and picked up 3
wickets in India’s victory. Pataudi made his comeback into the side in the
third Test top scoring with 73 in the first innings while Prasanna took 6
wickets. India won to go up 2-1. Prasanna didn’t play the final Test because
of an injury and Venkat replaced him but again could not take a wicket.
 India won the series, Wadekar’s third successive as captain. The team
was now at the top of the world. But dark clouds loomed just beyond the
horizon.

e ‘Summer of 42’ and Its Effect

In the summer of 1974, India travelled back to England with confidence.
After all, they had beaten England in England on the last trip and then again
vanquished them in India just six months previously. The captain and
manager were unchanged from the 1971 tour and there were four additions
to the team. Sudhir Naik and Gopal Bose were the two possible opening
partners for Gavaskar. Brijesh Patel from Karnataka in the middle order and
Madan Lal, Delhi’s newest all-rounder, made up the quartet.
The tour would be an unmitigated disaster. Personality clashes were
the early signs of trouble. Prasanna describes in his book how at a dinner at
Bedi’s friend’s house, an argument started among the senior players about
why Wadekar had not pushed the board after three successive series wins to
increase the ridiculously low pay of the players. Wadekar’s response was to
accuse the faction (led by Bedi) of first not being team men and then telling
them, ‘You are all Pataudi’s men.’ Bedi asked for an apology which was
given the next morning but the damage had been done.
India would go on to lose all three Test matches. The margins were
huge—113 runs in the first Test, 240 runs in the second and an innings and
78 runs in the third. To rub salt into the festering wounds, in the second
innings, following on India were dismissed for 42—till date the lowest
innings total for an Indian Test team. To add further insult to injury, Sudhir
Naik was accused of shoplifting at Marks & Spencers and the Indian High
Commissioner refused to let the Indian team in for a dinner as they were
late.
The world press had a field day, and forever more, the series would be
known as the ‘Summer of 42’. Back in India, a board committee
investigated the debacle and found ‘unfavourable weather conditions and
poor play’ as the reasons for the pathetic showing. In an apparently
unrelated move, West Zone sacked Wadekar as captain, a move which
prompted him to announce his retirement from all first-class cricket. He
was thirty-three.
 India had to find a new captain quickly to face up to Clive Lloyd’s
West Indies that was coming to visit that winter. The responsibility once
again devolved on the broad shoulders of Tiger Pataudi.

Pataudi’s Swan Song

The first Test of the 1974-75 West Indies tour of India at Bangalore was
notable from a historic standpoint for a few reasons, none of which was of
course known then. Making their debut were two batsmen who would go on
to form the pillars of West Indies batting for the next decade and a half:
Gordon Greenidge and Vivian Richards. Captaining the West Indies for the
first time and destined to take them to level of greatness never seen before
was Clive Lloyd.
With Bedi forced to sit out by the board, or more accurately its
dictatorial president P.M. Rungta (more on that later), Prasanna found
himself bowling alongside Venkat and Chandra. Venkat would be more
successful of the two with a 6-wicket haul while Prasanna would manage 2.
The West Indies won by 267 runs.
When Bedi came back for the second Test, with Pataudi unable to play
and Gavaskar injured as well, a farce ensued. Engineer was unofficially told
he was captaining but ultimately Venkat was given the honour and Chandra,
who had not only taken 6 wickets in the previous match but also baffled and
dismissed debutant Richards in both innings, was asked to sit out. The
result was another stunning defeat for India, meted out single-handedly by
Vivian Richards running amok with an unbeaten 192. Prasanna took 4
wickets in the only innings India batted to lose by an innings and 17 runs.
With Pataudi back at the helm, India would win the next two Tests at
Calcutta and Madras before losing the final Test and the series 2-3.
The Madras Test was a victory crafted by Prasanna. On the second
morning West Indies were 138 for 4 in response to India’s 190, with
Richards and Lloyd at the crease. Lloyd was the first to go, caught at slip by
Vishwanath low to his left off a viciously spinning delivery. Richards and
Keith Boyce both miscued shots, holing out in the outfield. Deryck Murray
edged a floater to Engineer behind the stumps and Bernard Julian miscued
another floater back to the bowler. Prasanna, in a 31-ball spell had taken 5
wickets for 5 runs, leaving the West Indies sputtering at 169 for 9. With the
visitors set a victory target of 255, Chandra and Prasanna once more got
into the act. Chandra first got rid of Greenidge with a googly. And then it
was Prasanna’s turn. Richards edged a deceptive floater to Engineer and
Lloyd unwisely stepped out with the inevitable result—he was stumped
yards out of his crease, the ball not having arrived as anticipated. Prasanna
describes it thus: ‘The ball was flighted invitingly and I held it back. He
jumped down and I could shake hands with him when Engineer whipped off
the bails.’
At 85 for 5 the fight had gone out of the batsmen and Bedi wrapped up
the tail. India won by 100 runs.
Prasanna’s series haul was 15 wickets, the same as Bedi’s. Chandra
picked up 14 and Venkat 7, all at similar cost. The series had been lost but
the confidence that had been shattered after the Summer of 42 was now
back. His job done, the strain on his good eye now starting to affect him,
Pataudi announced his retirement from Test cricket.

e Ups and Downs At Home and Abroad

In 1967-68, on his last visit, Prasanna had spun webs around the Kiwi
batsmen, so when the time to tour New Zealand came around under the
leadership of Bedi, Prasanna could be forgiven for licking his lips in
anticipation.
Bedi was injured for the first Test at Auckland when Gavaskar led the
side. It was Prasanna’s Test and one he rightfully considers perhaps his best
effort. When I asked him recently which was his most memorable bowling
performance, ‘Auckland 1976’ was the prompt response.
Prasanna had 3 wickets and Chandra 6 in New Zealand’s first innings
score of 266. But then captain Gavaskar and the Amarnath brothers,
Mohinder and brother Surinder with a century on debut, piled up 414. In the
second innings, it was all Prasanna. Sending down 23 overs, he was
virtually unplayable as he ran through the Kiwis picking up 8 for 76 (which
remains till date the best innings bowling figures by an Indian abroad in
Test cricket), and a match haul of 11 victims as India won comfortably by 8
wickets. The second Test was drawn and New Zealand won the final Test to
square the series 1-1. Prasanna did not take any more wickets in the series
on seaming tracks where Madan Lal and Mohinder Amarnath did much of
the work. Nonetheless, he ended the tour with 11 wickets at a very thrifty
20 runs apiece.
 On the eventful West Indies tour that followed, Prasanna was sidelined
for much of the series with a groin injury and escaped the physical damage
that most of his teammates suffered at the hands of the West Indies pace
battery aiming for the bodies of the Indians in the new version of Bodyline.
A few months later when New Zealand came to visit, Prasanna was
recovered from his injury and eager to do battle. But in the wonderful
parallel universe in which Indian selectors resided at the time, his name was
not even considered. Against one of the weakest Kiwi visiting sides of all
time, India won 2-0.
As the Kiwis were sailing out, Tony Greig’s English side landed on
Indian shores. For some strange reason, it was thought that this would be an
outing in the park as the series against the Kiwis had been.
By the time the first Test at New Delhi had ended in a decisive English
victory led by the unexpected (and as it turned out, vaseline-aided) success
of medium pacer John Lever, the panic buttons were being pressed. Venkat
made way for Prasanna amid other changes. Prasanna picked up 4 wickets
but otherwise the changes made absolutely no difference as Tony Greig led
from the front at Calcutta and Bob Willis bowled brilliantly to ensure a 10-
wicket victory.
Less than two weeks later, Greig and his men won the series at Madras
with a 200-run victory and 2 Tests to spare. The English seamers were once
again unplayable and a diplomatic crisis broke out when Bedi pointed out to
the umpire vaseline-dipped gauzes the English bowlers had been using.
After the day’s play Bedi went to the press accusing the English of cheating
from the first Test. It would create a diplomatic incident but in the end the
board would not stand behind its team and its captain.
After the unpleasantness at Madras, the Indians finally had something
to cheer about, winning the fourth Test at Bangalore on the back of some
superb bowling from Chandra who picked up 9 wickets and Yajurvindra
Singh who held a world-record seven catches on his debut. The final Test
was drawn as Prasanna and Karsan Ghavri bowling spin from two ends
almost dismissed England, the visitors managing to stay afloat at 152 for 7,
taking the series home 3-1.
Prasanna’s haul from the series had been 18 wickets at 21.61, by far
the best figures from an Indian bowler in an otherwise disappointing series
for the hosts.
 e End of An Era
When Bedi led the team down under for the Kerry Packer impacted series
in 1977-78, the Spin Quartet were embarking on a tour together for the fifth
time. It would be an exciting series and yet in the end disappointing for the
Indians as they lost a series 2-3 that they should and could have won.
Among the spinners, Bedi with 31 wickets and Chandra with 28
mesmerised the Australians. Prasanna bagged only 6 victims at over 46 runs
apiece, an immensely disappointing performance after his first series a
decade ago which had seen his emergence to the top of the world of off-
spin. Only once in the series, in the second innings at Sydney in the fourth
Test, did he show signs of the Prasanna of old. His 4 for 51 had all the old
magic—tantalising flight, vicious turn and metronomic accuracy, but there
were signs that he was perhaps past his best.
This was proven in no uncertain measure when the team travelled to
Pakistan a few months later on a tour that had as much political significance
attached to it as cricketing. The Quartet would be making their sixth, and as
it turned out, last tour together.
The batting averages of two Pakistani players over 5 innings tells the
story of the tour. Zaheer Abbas scored 583 runs at an average of 194.33 and
Javed Miandad joined the party with 358 at an average of 179.00. Majid
Khan with 222 runs and Asif Iqbal with 199 completed India’s misery.
Pakistan won the series 2-0.
Prasanna’s average from the two Tests he played was a shocking
125.50 for each of the two wickets he picked up. While it was not much
better than Bedi’s 3 at 74.38 apiece and Chandra giving up 48.12 runs for
each of his four victims, it would be Prasanna on whom the axe would fall
first. In hindsight Venkat would consider himself lucky that Bedi did not
pick him for any of the Tests across the border.
On the team’s return, Gavaskar replaced Bedi as captain and when the
Packer-weakened West Indies arrived in India a few months later, Prasanna
was not considered for selection. With 189 wickets at just above 30 runs
apiece from 49 Test matches played over a 17-year career, India’s greatest
off-spinner announced his retirement from the sport. With 957 first-class
wickets at 23.45 apiece and having led Karnataka to two Ranji triumphs
upsetting the fifteen-year hold of Bombay on the trophy, there was little left
to achieve for the engineer from Bangalore.
 In the years since then, Prasanna has stayed in touch with the game,
keenly following the progress of Indian spinners. He has given back by
selflessly imparting his knowledge both to spinners who have cared to ask
and also to journalists and writers who have picked his brains over the
years. Many have benefited from his coaching.
Since his retirement, India may have produced off-spinners who have
taken far more wickets but none can match up to Prasanna in the sheer
excellence of their craft. As Prasanna puts it: ‘Mentally, if a bowler does not
know how to convert his art into craft, he will not go far.’37 And no one did
that better than Erapalli Anantharao Srinivas Prasanna, the master of
deception.
 Together ey Spun a Web Around the World
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar

‘Of the celebrated quartet of Indian spinners, none was more

spectacular than Chandra … none of them could accelerate the pulse
rate of excited spectators in the manner of a fast bowler as Chandra
did. As he measured his paces, marked the start of his bowling run,
walked the first couple of steps cupping the ball in both hands, ran in
with a purposeful stride, and then delivered in a perfectly side-on
finish, left arm raised high, right arm coming down in a rapid whir,
thudding on to his left thigh, the crowd exploded in a burst of feverish
anticipation.’
—V. Ramnarayan, Third Man: Recollections from A Life in Cricket

Kennington Oval, August 1971, Day 4 ird and Final

Test
England had been denied victories in the first two Tests of the 1971 tour by
an opponent who had not won a Test match in the isles in thirty-nine years.
English captain Ray Illingworth was a man frustrated at his team’s failure to
convert chances through the series.
Illingworth was a man who wanted to win at all costs. David Gower
spoke about how the team under him ‘tended to close ranks and treat the
opposition, umpires, press and public as the enemy, an attitude that became
prevalent amongst Test teams in the 1970s’. In this instance, Illingworth
blamed the weather for delaying the inevitable and was determined that at
the Oval in the final Test, regardless of the weather playing truant, the
natural balance would be restored. Once England had done their job, the
visitors would shake hands with the victors and depart with their tail
between the legs as they had done every series since 1932.
This, however, was a different Indian team, a side that had
painstakingly been put together by Tiger Pataudi with a clear strategy for
the future. Here Illingworth’s counterpart was Pataudi’s worthy successor
Ajit Wadekar. He was fresh from his success in the Caribbean where India,
under his leadership, had won a series for the first time against the mighty
West Indies. By nature a mild, soft-spoken gentleman, Wadekar was the
exact opposite of the combative Illingworth but no less determined in his
intent to emerge victorious. The Oval was all set up to host the battle that
would determine the outcome of this war.
England got off to a good start scoring 355 at a blistering pace in the
first innings before being dismissed at the end of Day 1. Abid Ali and
Eknath Solkar had opened the bowling with their gentle medium pace, the
formality intended more to take the shine off the ball than with any real
hope of running through the English batting. But in this instance, Solkar,
moving the ball around with his deceptive left-arm medium pace, got the
dangerous Brian Luckhurst snicking one to Gavaskar at slip. Bishan Bedi,
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar and Srinivas Venkataraghavan picked up two
wickets each and Solkar, bowling his slow orthodox left-arm spin,
dismissed Alan Knott and John Snow.
The second day passed as two-thirds of days in a year in the British
capital are wont to pass—incessant drizzle making play impossible.
Illingworth’s frustration grew. Finally, on the third day with the sun out
again, England’s bowlers could have a go at the Indian batting.
Ashok Mankad continuing his horrific run of form, departed early
once again, his stumps uprooted by a John Price delivery with the team
score at 17. Sunil Gavaskar, unable to prevent a John Snow express delivery
from rattling the timber, walked back soon after and India was 21 for 2.
Thanks to some gritty batting from Wadekar and Dilip Sardesai and strong
rear guard action led by Farokh Engineer and Solkar, India replied with
284, conceding a crucial 71-run lead.
 The English newspapers were unanimous in their headlines—there
was only one team that would emerge victorious and it was not India.
Forty years later Illingworth would admit in an ESPN Cricinfo
interview: ‘Our lead was decent—it should have been sufficient to win the
match. There was nothing particularly wrong with the wicket but we had
ourselves to blame.’ Illingworth was only partially right. It had nothing to
do with the pitch but there was little his batsmen could have done either.
From hereon, it would only be about the genius of Bhagwat Chandrasekhar.
Making a comeback into the Indian team after a four-year hiatus
triggered off first by an injury and then a horrific two-wheeler accident,
Chandra had not been picked for the West Indies tour despite sterling
domestic performances. Unfortunately for the leg-spinner, the chairman of
selectors Vijay Merchant was not a fan. Chandra was unconventional and
while Merchant was a strong advocate of inducting young players,
unorthodox cricketers had no place in his scheme of things. With much
reluctance he had agreed to Chandra’s inclusion in the team to England but
not before warning him that his inclusion ‘was a risk’. Chandra had almost
been left out of the team after going wicketless in the second Test at
Manchester. He recounts the anxiety:
‘This was a very important series for me as I was making a comeback
after four long years and had been left out of the West Indies tour for
reasons not known to me. I had been inconsistent in the Tests in England
but had been getting wickets in the county matches. So before the Oval Test
I had no clue whether I was playing despite having taken 7 wickets in the
match against Notts just before the Test.’ Getting dropped now would be a
severe blow to his confidence. Even worse, as Chandra admitted: ‘I had to
do well otherwise my cricketing career may have ended at that particular
time.’ It was manager Hemu Adhikari who impressed upon Wadekar the
importance of retaining the unpredictability of the leg-spinner in the arsenal
for the Oval Test, making one of those calls that smack of genius when they
come off.
When England came out to bat for the second time, after 6 overs of
perfunctory medium pace, Chandra and Venkat were given the ball. Serious
cricket was now underway, the preliminaries having been dispensed with.
With the speed his natural whippy hand action generated, Chandra was
always going to be a handful on the fourth-day pitch. Wadekar knew this
and Chandra says simply: ‘Ajit had confidence in me and gave me the ball
after three overs.’ And that day he settled down to his unplayable line and
length straight away. Illingworth would say later: ‘That sort of pitch suited
Chandra because he bowled very fast. If he got two or three inches of turn
at that pace, that was enough to make him dangerous.’
Chandra got the first breakthrough … as a fielder. He describes to me
what happened when Brian Luckhurst drove a ball back at him hard:
‘I thrust my right hand out, the ball came at tremendous speed and my
hand didn’t get there fast enough to stop the ball, just enough for a single
finger to touch and deviate it. The ball smashed onto the non-striker’s
stumps leaving John Jameson who had scored 82 in the first innings
stranded couple of inches outside his crease. It was a brilliant confident
decision by umpire Charlie Elliott and a mortal blow for the English.’ 38
John Edrich strode in. Generally, Chandra did not plan his dismissals,
preferring to bowl in the right areas and letting his speed, spin and
variations create the chances. But this time he did.
‘I wanted to bowl a googly but my plan had to be changed,’ he tells
me. ‘At that time Dilip Sardesai and I used to track the races and there was
this fast horse called Mill Reef (it had just won the Epsom Derby that
summer, coming from behind with a sensational burst of speed). So as I was
about to run in and bowl, Dilip from slips shouted ‘Chandra ek Mill Reef
dalo’ (bowl a Mill Reef). I understood and instead of a googly, bowled a
faster one and before Edrich brought his bat down, his stumps went
cartwheeling.’39
Meanwhile, Venkat at the other had been doing the job he was a past
master at—suffocating the batsmen. Bringing the ball down from a height
on a flat trajectory and pitching it where it could not be hit without
substantial risk, Venkat was emanating frustration waves that enveloped the
English batsmen in a tsunami of helplessness. The pressure was building.
Then there was the close-in fielding.
Crouching at short-leg was Eknath Solkar, who attracted bat-pad
catches as a flytrap attracts unwary winged creatures. Decades after he
retired, Solkar’s close-in fielding would still be referred to in awed tones.
He remains the only fielder to average more than a catch an innings (for
players with more than 12 innings in their career) finishing with 53 catches
from his 50 innings and in those 50 innings he would have more dismissals
per innings than the Indian wicketkeepers involved, who collectively
bagged 38 victims. There had rarely been a fielder with more
Bradmanesque figures than Solkar with his average of 2 catches per
victorious Test innings, all achieved without protective gear.
At backward short-leg chatting away was Syed Abid Ali, competent
batsman, reluctant opening bowler and dazzling fielder. Any snick on the
leg-side was the exclusive property of Abid Ali. A vicious pull that would
have any fielder ducking would be converted into an improbable catch,
often off the body. Without any protective gear whatsoever, he was utterly
and impossibly fearless. Nothing came Abid’s way in this match but the
threat was enough to worry the batsman.
Ajit Wadekar was at first slip. Anything Engineer could not reach,
Wadekar could. Anything that came quickly at him off the edge, too low to
catch, too far to reach, Wadekar would scoop up in his hands.
And then there was Venkataraghavan himself. When he was not
bowling, he was standing at gully, knees slightly bent, large hands spread
out waiting for the edge, concentration writ large on his face.
Individually they were brilliant, together they were overwhelming
agents of panic for the batsman, even before Chandra had begun his pace
bowler’s run-up.
Here at the Oval, it was Venkat who combined with Chandra to start
England down the slippery slope. He took a blinder to dismiss Brian
Luckhurst. Chandra describes the dismissal: ‘It was a fastish leg-break on a
good length, Luckhurst tried to cut the ball, got an edge and
Venkataraghavan took a blinder of a catch. He snatched it left-handed when
the ball was almost past him at great speed.’40
Keith Fletcher, a nervous starter at the best of times, walked into a
vicious Chandra googly first up. The ball turned in as he stretched forward
and off the bat and pad, dropped in front of him. But before the ball fell
prey to the laws of gravity, Solkar dived onto the centre of the pitch and
plucked the ball from the air an inch above the ground. Venkat took care of
Basil D’Oliviera, Illingworth lobbed a catch back to Chandra off a fast full
toss and John Snow followed in identical fashion. England was 72 for 8.
Wadekar talks about the final overs: ‘Down the line I noticed that
Derek Underwood was playing Chandra confidently, so I replaced him with
Bishan (Bedi) for a few overs (it was actually a single over)—which
Chandra humbly accepted without getting agitated, even if he was in the
thick of the wickets. Underwood tried sweeping Bishan and was caught at
short-leg. The last man was the left-hander, (John) Price, who was working
Bishan out quite well, so I brought back Chandra, who finished the job by
getting Price leg before.’
England had been dismissed for 101 and India was left to score 173
runs for a historic victory, the closest they had come since 1932. Chandra’s
figures read a remarkable 18.1-3-38-6.
The Indian quest for victory that eluded them for four long decades
had an inauspicious start when Gavaskar was again dismissed early, LBW
to Snow for a duck. When Mankad and Wadekar departed, India was 97
away from victory. Sardesai came together with Vishwanath and the match
appeared to be drifting away from England. Derek Underwood then got
Sardesai and Solkar in quick succession. By the time Luckhurst got rid of
Vishwanath, edging to Alan Knott behind the stumps, Vishy and Farokh
Engineer had taken India to 170, just three runs from the target. A visibly
nervous Abid Ali walked in with instructions from his partner to take his
time.
Engineer describes what happens next: ‘The very first ball, he charged
out but Knott missed an easy stumping. Abid was so keen to get the
winning runs, and eventually he did, by cutting Luckhurst to the boundary.
What followed was sheer pandemonium. The Indian crowds charged down
to the pitch and hoisted us onto their shoulders.’
India had won. Thirty-nine years after Col. C.K. Nayudu led the first
Indian team to ‘Test’ their mettle on English soil, Wadekar’s boys had
broken the symbolic shackles of the colonial past and beaten England in
England. Even more than the triumph against the West Indies, the Oval (and
series) victory would symbolise India’s belated coming of age as a
cricketing power to be reckoned with.
But for cricket, this moment would be equally significant from a
perspective that history would only later recognise. Chandra’s 6 for 38 spell
that destroyed England paving the way for the eventual historical win, aided
by Venkat’s unrelenting debilitating pressure from the other end and Bedi
coming in for one over and picking up the only wicket that was resisting the
inevitable, was the clash of the cymbals announcing the coming of age of
Tiger Pataudi’s Spin Strategy. The trio had accounted for 37 wickets in the
series versus the 11 that had been picked up by their pace counterparts.
Pataudi had told Chandra when he made his debut that he would be
India’s main strike bowler. There was undeniable poetic justice in the fact
that cricket’s final frontier for the Indian team, beating England in England,
had been achieved thanks largely to an unlikely strategy formulated by a
one-eyed batsman and implemented by a twirlyman wreaking havoc with a
polio-stricken bowling arm.
The Blue Ocean had now well and truly been thrown open for able
conquerors.

e Early Years
In 2002, Wisden would vote Chandra’s effort at the Oval in 1971 the ‘best
bowling performance of the century’.
To get a perspective on that performance (and indeed his career), one
needs to go back to Mysore in 1950 when Chandra was a child of five, the
youngest son in a middle-class Brahmin family. One day, running a
temperature, he suddenly found himself unable to lift his right arm to shake
the hands of visitors to the family home as he had been taught to do.
Rushed to hospital, he was diagnosed with having contracted polio, and his
arm put in a plaster. When the cast came off, the right hand looked thinner
than the left. Recovery from the disease took two years but the muscles on
that hand had been destroyed forever.
While he quickly got into the habit of wearing long sleeved shirts so
that no one saw the condition of his right arm which had no muscles
(something he would do all his career even in the dressing room or while
sharing a hotel room on tours), incredibly, he found he could play cricket. A
natural-born right hander, the only way he could be effective with the ball
was to use the arm as a pulley and deliver the cherry with a whiplash action.
Flight was never a possibility.
Writing a feature in the Cricket Monthly in 2017, Suresh Menon talks
about once seeing Chandra without his shirt on: ‘Let alone bowling leg-
breaks and googlies and topspinners, it is amazing that he can actually hold
a ball in his right hand, or a pen even, so emaciated does it look. It took
extraordinary courage to step onto a sports field.’
Incredibly, Chandra found that not only could he control the length
and line while whipping the arm through but his wrist action allowed him to
impart spin and variations to the ball. And since there was only one single
pulley action his arm was capable of, there was no difference in arm action
or speed for the batsmen to gauge what he would bowl. They would have to
watch his hand but at the speed that it came across, this would prove
incredibly difficult as well.
Early in 1963, when Chandra was seventeen, Hyderabad Ranji Trophy
captain M.L. Jaisimha saw him bowling in a junior match for Mysore
against Hyderabad. Until that point, Chandra had only played local club
cricket. An impressed Jaisimha spoke to Mysore captain V. Subramanya, a
close friend. Following that conversation, in the 1963-64 season Chandra
found himself in the Mysore Ranji Trophy squad. In his second match, he
took 6 wickets including that of Jaisimha. He finished the league phase with
25 wickets and was picked for South Zone in Duleep Trophy ahead of V.V.
Kumar, the regular leg-spinner. Bowling against North Zone led by national
captain Tiger Pataudi, Chandra took 5 for 78.
Three months after his first-class debut, on 21 January 1964, eighteen-
year-old Bhagwat Chandrasekhar would make his Test debut for India at the
Brabourne Stadium against England and pick up 5 wickets. The first step on
the way to the best bowling performance of the twentieth century had been
taken.

‘God’s Gi to Indian cricket’

It is safe to say that no one in the history of Indian cricket has ever been so
universally liked and admired as Bhagwat Chandrasekhar. Indeed it is rare
to find a human being with so few detractors, if any. One has only to speak
to his colleagues and contemporaries in domestic and international cricket
to understand the depth of this admiration. My own interactions with him
bears this out in ample measure.
Describing his unplayable bowling with a yet disbelieving shake of the
head, Bedi tells me simply: ‘Chandrasekhar was God’s gift to Indian
cricket.’41 Syed Kirmani described him as ‘sheer genius’. 42
There has been a myth perpetuated that Chandra did not know what he
was going to bowl when he twirled his polio-affected arm and somehow
that was made out to be an excuse for batsmen finding it difficult to read
him. The reality could not be farther from this. I asked for the views of the
one person who should know this best—Syed Kirmani, who kept wickets to
him from the age of fifteen for over thirteen years until Chandra retired
from first-class cricket.
 Kirmani told me the story about how as a young boy aged sixteen,
keeping wickets at the Karnataka State Cricket Association (KSCA) nets he
hesitantly asked Chandra this question (prefacing it with a ‘Sir’, which is
how he addressed Chandra and Prasanna, both national players at the time).
Chandra smiled and asked him to go back behind the stumps and tell him
what he wanted him to bowl.
Kirmani recalls: ‘I told him, “Sir, bowl all the six different deliveries
you know.” So Chandra started with a top spinner, then a googly, then a
faster one, then an off-cutter, and two leg-breaks one on the leg stump and
one on the middle, both hitting the wicket. And thus started a long
association where in the years to come we would become a great
combination—Chandra and Kiri.’43
Chandra’s impact as an unassuming match-winning bowler, with none
of the airs or dramatic actions of his more flashy counterparts and
successors, is what would endear him to colleagues and fans alike. On
receiving the signal from the captain, he would walk up to the umpire, hand
in his white floppy hat, make sure that short-leg, backward short-leg, and
slip were in place and then walk back to his mark without a glance at either
the captain or the rest of the fielders.
In his matter of fact, disarming manner, Chandra told me: ‘I only
wanted those three fielders and wicketkeeper in place. After that it didn’t
matter where the captain placed the other six. On occasion, when I knew a
player was addicted to the pull shot, I would ask for another fielder right
next to the square leg umpire for the miscued pull off the bounce that I
almost always got off the pitch. After that, it was the batsman and my
bowling. Nothing else mattered.’44 And that is typically Chandra, about his
own bowling.
Chandra was a bowler who instilled uncertainty and doubt in the
minds of the world’s greatest batsmen. Ramachandra Guha writing in his
book Spin and Other Turns sums up the problems of facing Chandra thus:
‘From a batsman’s point of view, this was a game not akin to chess but to
Russian roulette.’
Ken Barrington, the man Chandra is unequivocal in naming as the best
player of spin bowling he has ever seen, agreed: ‘When playing Chandra
you are up against a thinking bowler with an arm that could produce just
about anything. He never tried to wear out a batsman. The batsman got him
or he got the batsman.’
 Vivian Richards, the scourge of bowlers the world over, was
Chandra’s ‘bunny’. In November 1974 when Richards wore the West Indian
cap for the first time at Bangalore, he came up against an unplayable
Chandra and his scores from that match were 2 and 5, dismissed both times
by the local hero. For the next Test at New Delhi, despite having taken 6
wickets at Bangalore, Chandra was dropped as Bedi came back into the
team after a one-match disciplinary suspension and Venkat was inducted
into the side to lead it in the absence of Pataudi. The result? Vivian
Richards scored 192 magnificent runs and would never look back.
Against Chandra, however, Richards was never comfortable
throughout his career and one wonders what would have happened if
Richards had failed in two successive Tests. Years later as a Chandra
delivery whizzed past his nose to be collected by Kirmani standing up to the
stumps, Richards would turn to the wicketkeeper and ask: ‘Is he a spinner
or is he Thommo?’45
Dilip Vengsarkar, who played alongside Chandra for about five years,
tells me about the time he (Vengsarkar), playing for the Rest of India
against Karnataka, faced up to him in the 1978 Irani Trophy at Bangalore:
‘Karnataka had been bowled out for 202. They dismissed our openers
Chetan Chauhan and Anshuman Gaekwad cheaply and Surinder Amarnath
and I then got together. We had a long partnership and I scored 151. But the
next morning when we faced up to Chandra and Prasanna bowling in
tandem for two hours, it was simply outstanding. It was the most difficult
two-hour period I have ever spent out there as a batsman. Here were two
bowlers constantly attacking and trying to get you out every ball. Chandra
was absolutely outstanding in his accuracy and deadly in his intent to
dismiss you. You grew better as a batsman when you faced up to such high-
quality bowlers.’46
Cricket historian and writer David Frith tells me about his experience
of facing up to Chandra: ‘At a social gathering at Venkat’s house, I once
tempted Chandra out onto the roadway to bowl a few at me with a tennis
ball. I ended up ducking half his offerings. It was like facing a fast bowler.
How anyone could deal with spin at that pace left me baffled. It must have
been similar to facing S.F. Barnes (whom I met when he was in his
nineties). SFB was as mean and dour as Chandra was disarming and
charming.’47
 There is a story that Sunil Gavaskar narrates about Chandra which
says it all about the bowler and the man. At a key stage of an epic Bombay-
Karnataka clash, Gavaskar, the bedrock of the Bombay side, was beaten on
the forward stroke by a perfect Chandra leg-break which narrowly missed
both the outside edge and the off-stump by a whisker. Where anyone else
would have held their head in anguish, Chandra calmly finished his follow
through and told Gavaskar: ‘Suna kya?’ (Did you hear that?) He was
referring to a Mukesh (his favourite singer whose house Chandra would
visit every time he went to Bombay) composition being played on the radio
by a spectator in the stands. As far as he was concerned that ball was done
and the next one would come with its own opportunity. In the meantime
there was the immortal voice of Mukesh that had to be appreciated. That
was Chandra the man, priorities of life well sorted.
But when it came to winning matches, there was no bowler an Indian
captain in the 1960s and ‘70s would rather hand the ball to than Bhagwat
Chandrasekhar. Chandra played in only 58 Tests picking up 242 wickets at
29.74 during the course of his seemingly long career of fifteen years. In that
time he was involved and largely instrumental in 14 decisive Test victories
where he picked up 98 wickets at a staggering 19.27 runs each. Sadly for
Indian cricket, Chandra missed four years and 29 Tests due to serious
injuries on and off the field (he was forced to return midway through the
1967 Australia series with an ankle injury and on his return to India
suffered a life-threatening scooter accident) and was the victim of a
succession of bizarre selection decisions.

A Match Winner Unlike Any Other

Chandra’s time in the sun is a record worth looking deeper into—India won
24 per cent of the Tests that Chandra played in and during the course of
those Tests he picked up over 40 per cent of his total wickets at 19.27 runs
apiece. Surely, if that is not high-impact cricket, nothing is.
Some of his match-defining performances merit re-telling.
As the first day of 1975 dawned in Calcutta the Indian team walked
out to field at the Eden Gardens for the final day of the Test match against
Clive Lloyd’s mighty West Indies. They were 0-2 down in the series and
much of the team had drowned their sorrows at one of Calcutta’s famous
New Year’s Eve club parties, returning to the hotel in the wee hours of the
morning. Largely on account of G.R. Vishwanath’s magnificent 139, the
West Indies had been set 310 runs to win.
At the end of Day 4 the visitors were 146 for 3. With Lloyd and Alvin
Kallicharran at the crease, it looked very likely that Tiger Pataudi’s
comeback series as captain was going to be lost at the Eden Gardens.
‘We had had quite a few drinks that night and I could not face the
prospect of bowling first up that morning when Tiger asked me to have a
go. I wisely suggested Chandra might be a better bet to start off! Chandra
was indeed our best bet, but a part of the reason was that although both of
us had indulged, I knew I needed more time to recover. That was the last
time I would allow myself to be in such a condition in the midst of a Test
match,’ Bedi would admit.48
As Chandra ran in to bowl, the 100,000 strong crowd chanted
‘Chandra, Chandra, Bachabe Chandra’ (Chandra, Chandra, Chandra will
save us). After the first two overs, it was clear that a nervous Chandra was
finding it difficult to get his length right and the West Indies had progressed
to 163. Pataudi had decided a change in bowling was warranted when once
again Bedi intervened. ‘Give him another over Tiger, just one more,’ he
said. Reluctantly, Chandra was thrown the ball.
Chandra describes in his book The Winning Hand, what happened
next: ‘Just to regain my confidence I marked out my run again. As I ran in I
could feel I was gripping the ball just right. As I was on my run I saw Vishy
crouched at slip through the corner of my eye. I delivered. The stadium
erupted to a man. Lloyd was bowled. But Kallicharran was still there. I
bowled a googly. It didn’t spin much but it bounced, Kalli fended at it away
from the body and Vishy took the catch. Julien just succumbed to the
pressure and was LBW. Thereafter, Bishan got into the act …’
Bedi, by now fully recovered and energised by Chandra’s
breakthroughs, ran through the tail picking up Deryck Murray, Lance Gibbs
and Andy Roberts in rapid succession. India won by 85 runs.
In 1975-76, bowling at Auckland against New Zealand at a time when
visitors to Pakistan and New Zealand ruefully maintained they had to
contend with thirteen players in the opposition, Chandra picked up 8
wickets alongside Prasanna’s 11 to bowl India to a decisive victory. It was
during this series that the frustration and wit of Chandra emerged in equal
measure after enduring weeks of blatant umpiring bias. After shattering the
stumps of a Kiwi batsman, Chandra turned to the umpire and let out a loud
‘Howzatt!’ The puzzled umpire asked him ‘Can’t you see he is bowled?’
Pat came Chandra’s reply: ‘I know he is bowled but is he out?’
Dilip Vengsarkar tells me: ‘I was right there when this happened and it
was very funny but it is a reflection of how biased home umpiring was
those days particularly in countries like Pakistan and New Zealand.’49
And then Bedi’s boys travelled to the West Indies to face a strong
Caribbean side that had just been battered by the pace of Thomson and
Lillee. The prospect of facing India’s spin attack was like a soothing balm
to the battered body and mind of the Windies. Indeed they would vent their
frustration in no uncertain manner on the hapless Indians who had landed
less than forty-eight hours earlier after a sixty-two-hour flight from New
Zealand to play the first Test. The result was a crushing defeat.
But at Port of Spain, the West Indians would get much more than they
had bargained for. After the Indian spinners took all 16 wickets to fall in the
match, Clive Lloyd declared the innings, setting India a seemingly
impossible target of 404 in the fourth innings. In what would come to be
revered as one of the greatest chases in the history of Test cricket, India
pulled off an unlikely victory.
Chandra told me: ‘But for the batsmen, we would never have won that
Test.’ That is undoubtedly true, but in his modesty he failed to mention that
it was his 8 wickets that had even made it possible for the batsmen to get
into a situation from which victory was a possibility. Journalist Mudar
Patherya would call this Test match ‘the moment that India grew up’.50
In 1977-78 when India arrived down under, Australian cricket was in
complete disarray. Kerry Packer and his World Series Cricket had shaken
the foundations of the establishment and most of the national team had
moved over to Packer. Bob Simpson, now in his forties, was recalled to lead
the side and inject some experience into it. The Indian visitors, it was
hoped, would save Test cricket that summer. It was a series that generated
tremendous interest, filled up the stands and produced scintillating cricket.
While India did not in the end manage to win the series (it would take
sevety-one years from the first tour until Virat Kohli’s boys finally ended
the drought in January 2019), they did manage two victories in 5 Tests. And
in those two victories at Melbourne and Sydney, Chandra would lead the
way with an incredible 18-wicket haul.
 e Greatest Gi
It is indeed ironic that only a few months after the two magnificent
performances in Australia, Chandra’s career, along with Bedi and Prasanna
would for all practical purposes be ended by the disastrous 1978 tour of
Pakistan. Chandra was picked for a few more Tests, as the selectors looked
beyond the Quartet for the first time in over fifteen years, and indeed was
the only one among them to ever again take a 5-wicket haul.
But Chandra’s contribution to Indian cricket had one more chapter to
run. Almost two decades after he laid down the ball and devoted himself to
Mukesh’s music and his wife’s musical career, a young man came to seek
his counsel. Anil Kumble had turned for advice to the only man he knew
who would understand his predicament as he was swamped by words of
wisdom to bowl slower and flight the ball, both of which went against his
instincts.
Chandra’s advice would change everything. ‘Take a longer run-up,
Anil. Coaches will tell you, as they told me, flight the ball more, turn more,
bowl more slowly, and a whole lot of things because they cannot understand
you. Have the strength to ignore such advice.’
The rest, as they say, is history.
 Together ey Spun a Web Around the World
Srinivas Venkataraghavan

‘Few people have served Indian cricket more ungrudgingly than

Venkataraghavan; he could have had more grudges than most.’
—Sujit Mukherjee, Playing for India

An ‘English’ Spinner with Indian Guile

Seldom, if ever, has a team been blessed with two off-spinners of such
stunning quality at the same moment in time as India was with Prasanna
and Venkataraghavan. They were so good that it was one of the tragedies of
Indian cricket that it did not get the full benefit of both gifts from the
cricketing gods.
Srinivasaraghavan Venkataraghavan, with an action that was
classically side-on and a pleasing high-arm release, arrived on the scene just
as Prasanna had made his temporary exit from the big stage to pursue his
engineering degree. By the time Prasanna returned, he had a rival who was
also an engineer and an astute thinker like himself, with whom he would
have to fight for a place in the Test team every moment of the next decade.
Although both were off-spinners, they could not have been more
different in their style of bowling. Prasanna once said about his and Bedi’s
bowling: ‘We were aggressive, but our aggression was sugar-coated.’
There was no sugar coating in Venkat’s bowling. Where the wily
Prasanna’s biggest weapon was flight and deception, the tall, upright Venkat
delivered the ball from a far greater height with accuracy and control, very
much in the mould of English spinners of the genre. Former Indian opening
batsman Madhav Apte tells me: ‘Venkat was very much a spinner in the
mould of Ghulam Ahmed but quicker in the air.’51
Venkat himself explains his style of bowling thus: ‘I was not a great
fighter of the ball; I left that to shorter men who necessarily had to flight the
ball. The ball was already eight feet off the ground when I got into my
delivery stride; to throw it up further made little sense to me since it was
already above the batsman’s eye-level.’
Venkat’s metronomic accuracy interspersed with a virtually
unreadable and nigh unplayable leg-cutter, were enough to drive opposition
batsmen to despair as he kept going over after over, hour after hour,
throttling the runs and forcing them to make mistakes. To make things even
more difficult, the cleverly concealed straighter one was almost impossible
to read as G.R. Vishwanath found out time and again in Ranji Trophy
matches. Venkat was, in fact, also a supremely effective bowler from round
the wicket.
Bedi calls Venkat ‘an astute cricket brain, an outstanding thinker of the
game, a real fighter.’52 His Tamil Nadu bowling partner, former Test leg-
spinner V.V. Kumar concurs: ‘Venkat was a fierce competitor. He hated
losing. We took more than 950 wickets together and never allowed the
opposition to dominate us.’
What set Venkat apart from the other members of the Quartet was that
in addition to his supreme bowling abilities, he was a competent, gritty,
reliable batsman and a brilliant fielder. When Venkat joined the team, he
joined Eknath Solkar, Abid Ali and Ajit Wadekar in forming perhaps the
deadliest close-in fielding cordon in the world at the time and certainly the
best India has ever had. Indeed, but for these men, the phenomenal haul of
wickets of the Spin Quartet would perhaps be a fraction of what it
eventually was.

e ird Member of the Quartet Arrives

Showing great promise as a teenager and mentored by India’s first great off-
spinner Ghulam Ahmed, Venkat was given his break at his home ground,
Madras, against New Zealand in 1965 when Chandra had to drop out
because of an injury. Picking up 9 wickets in his first 3 Tests, Venkat did
not set the world on fire but did enough to keep his place for the final Test
at Kotla.
Bowling alongside Chandra at Delhi, Venkat was metronomic and
incisive, picking up a stunning haul of 8 for 72 (seven of the victims either
bowled or trapped leg before), sending down 51.1 overs and dismissing the
Kiwis for 262. India declared at 465 with Dilip Sardesai and Pataudi
scoring a century each. In the second innings, Venkat picked up another
four victims, sending down 61 of the 149 overs that India bowled. His
match figures of 12 for 152 were the fourth best by an Indian bowler.
Between the two innings, he had also dismissed all eleven Kiwi batsmen, a
rare feat indeed.
Venkat’s 21 wickets at 19 runs apiece in the series was an early sign
that yet another spinning idol had made his entry into the crowded temple
of Indian spin.

e Game of Musical Chairs Begins

In the winter of 1966-67 when West Indies visited India with one of their
strongest batting line-ups, Venkat was dropped from the third Test after
picking up only 2 wickets in the first two matches. Prasanna replaced him
after a five-year hiatus from the team and marked the beginning of what
Partab Ramchand in Gentle Executioners calls ‘the unhappy game of
musical chairs the two were forced to take part in for the next twelve years.’
In the summer of 1967, for the first time, all the members of Pataudi’s
Spin Quartet found themselves on a tour abroad and, in fact, at Birmingham
that summer, was the only time the four would end up playing together in a
Test match.
It would be an interesting match for a few reasons. It was the first time
that a specialist wicketkeeper opened the bowling for India. While Farokh
Engineer stood behind the stumps, Pataudi threw the ball to Budhi
Kunderan, the veteran keeper, in the absence of any pace bowlers in his
team. In order to set a field for him, Pataudi asked him: ‘So Budhi, what are
you going to bowl?’ Came the reply: ‘We will find out soon, Tiger, won’t
we?’
What would become glaringly obvious at Birmingham, if it wasn’t
already after the first two Tests when Venkat was not included in the XI,
was that despite being the ‘most English of spinners’ in his style, Venkat
was not Pataudi’s first choice off-spinner even in England. Prasanna’s flight
and guile fitted better into the captain’s scheme of things. In the first
innings at Birmingham, Venkat bowled 13 overs to pick up 1 wicket while
Chandra, Bedi and Prasanna sent down 32, 27 and 20 respectively. In
England’s second innings, Venkat bowled just 2 overs, the same as his
captain Pataudi, while the other three sent down 69 overs between them.
India lost the Test by 132 runs primarily because of poor batting in the first
innings when they were dismissed for 92 but the writing was clearly on the
wall for Venkat.
It would be two years before Venkat found himself back in the team in
the second Test against New Zealand at Nagpur in October 1969. This time
he was bowling alongside Bedi and Prasanna in the continued absence of
Chandra since the Australian tour of 1967. He picked up 9 wickets in the
match including 6 for 74 in the second, sending down 61.1 overs. In the 7
Tests matches he played against the Kiwis and the visiting Australians that
season, Venkat’s haul was 23 wickets at 22.86 apiece. It would turn out to
be the most productive season of his career.
It would, however, also be a season that Venkat wouldn’t forget for a
very different reason. In November 1969, the Brabourne Stadium in
Bombay became the centre of riot and arson during the first Test match
against Australia and Venkat, the batsman, was the unwitting cause. Umpire
Shambhu Pan declared Venkat caught behind after a stifled appeal from
wicketkeeper Brian Taber. Many in the crowd carried transistor radios and
when commentator Devraj Puri kept insisting the ball was nowhere near the
bat—which it wasn’t as it so happened—discontent in the East Stand kept
growing. Garry Sobers two years before had recalled an Indian batsman on
the very same ground when the decision was clearly wrong but Bill Lawry
was an Australian and he wanted to win at all costs. Australian journalist
Kersi Meher-Homji, who was present in the rioting stand that day, recalls in
his book Cricket Conflicts and Controversies: ‘They (the crowd) set fire to
the chairs and threw the flaming chairs on the ground. It got uglier as the
East Standers got rowdier. Bottles with broken necks were thrown on the
ground. It was disgusting, alarming and horrifying.’ Ray Robinson added in
The Wildest Tests: ‘Before you could say Venkataraghavan, mob fury
exploded in scenes unprecedented in the city’s cricket history.’
 Meher-Homji concludes: ‘Australia won the Test by 8 wickets and
went on to claim the series 3-1. It seemed poetic, almost ironic, that off-
spinner Venkataraghavan became a well-respected umpire after he retired
from Test cricket.’
But back to the cricket, and a year later, India travelled to the West
Indies and then England for what would turn out to be the most glorious
period for India in its four decades of Test cricket. For the first time in his
career, Venkat had the full confidence of the skipper, the newly appointed
leader, Ajit Wadekar.
In the West Indies, as India won the Test at Port of Spain and took the
series 1-0, Venkat sent down 290 overs, the most he was to ever bowl in a
single series against any opponent in his career. In the process, he picked up
22 wickets at 33.81 runs apiece. With Chandra back in the side for the
England series that followed soon after, Venkat’s workload fell. As India
won the Oval Test and the series in England, Wadekar leading the side to an
unprecedented back-to-back series victories overseas, Venkat sent down
151 overs yielding him 13 wickets but at a much more compelling average
of 26.92 apiece. He would, during this period, also establish himself as one
of the cordon of brilliant close-in fielders that made India and its spinners a
force to reckon with in world cricket and ensure India’s tail began wagging
a bit later when he was in the team with his competent and dependable
batting.

A er the Crest Comes the Trough

With Ajit Wadekar the toast of the country and Venkat himself at the top of
his craft, one would have assumed that the good times would continue for
the spinner from Madras when Tony Lewis brought an English team to
Indian shores in 1972-73. While Wadekar could do no wrong and led India
to a comprehensive 2-1 victory, Venkat unexpectedly fell out of form and of
reckoning.
It may have had to do with his stint with Derbyshire in county cricket
that came right after the England tour. Ramachandra Guha observes in Spin
Turn: ‘Playing six and sometimes seven days in a week, Venkat drastically
reworked his action, adopting less of a follow-through to conserve energy
through the summer. Sadly, he was never quite the same bowler again.’
 Ian Chappell was unequivocal in his views on the ‘Venkat versus
Prasanna’ debate when he told me: ‘I always refer to the Indian Spin
Triumvirate of the ‘60s and ‘70s and smile to myself whenever anyone talks
about a quartet. The same as I used to smile to myself whenever an Indian
talked about Erapalli Prasanna being dropped for Srinivas Venkataraghavan.
There was no comparison between Prasanna and Venkat as bowlers.’53
On pitches that were designed to aid spin, Wadekar quickly realised
that his best bet was to have the tireless Bedi on from one end, keeping the
batsmen continually guessing (and hence quiet), while he attacked
relentlessly with Chandra and the wily Prasanna from the other. The writing
was on the wall in the first innings of the Test series when Venkat got to
bowl 2 overs while Bedi and Chandra sent down 89, and in the second
innings, after widespread media criticism, Wadekar gave him 16 while the
other two bowled 62 between them.
But Wadekar was proved right when Venkat failed to take a wicket,
India lost the Test, and he was promptly dropped from the second Test in
favour of Prasanna who would go on to have a phenomenal series. Venkat
came back for the final Test, a dead rubber, replacing the injured Prasanna
and took a solitary wicket, finishing the series with an average of 158.00.
The following summer when India was crushed by the same English
team at home and Wadekar lost his captaincy and place in the side (he
would never again play for India), Venkat bowled just 37 overs and failed to
take a wicket. It was hardly surprising therefore that when Pataudi replaced
Wadekar as captain against the West Indies at home in 1974-75, while
Venkat was a part of the mix, in his then current form he was not the leader
of the spin pack.
But a bizarre sequence of events that Indian cricket was by now
infamous for, would unfold at this time.
Venkat found himself in the final XI of the first Test when Bedi was
dropped on disciplinary grounds by the board led by president P.M. Rungta.
To his credit, Pataudi bowled Venkat more than Prasanna and far more than
Wadekar had done in the previous home Test two years before and the
bowler responded by bagging six victims in the match.
Pataudi was injured for the second Test and this is where the drama
began.
Bedi had been reinstated for the Test but India did not have a captain.
Gavaskar was also injured and so Engineer, Abid Ali, Prasanna and Bedi all
fancied their chances. In fact R.P. Mehra, President of the Delhi District
Cricket Association (DDCA), who were hosting the match unofficially
confirmed that Engineer would have the honour. Engineer was caught
unprepared but mumbled words to the effect that if it was true the honour
would be his. As Engineer went to the ground, prepared to lead his side out
for the first time the next morning, the chairman of selectors C.D. Gopinath
announced that Venkat would captain the side.
Venkat’s first Test as captain would not, however, be a happy
occasion. To accommodate Bedi, since Venkat himself was captain and
Prasanna had been bowling well, Chandra was dropped from the team that
morning. This would turn out to be a huge strategic mistake as Chandra had
not only picked up 6 wickets in the previous Test, a certain Vivian Issac
Richards making his debut the previous Test had been all at sea against the
leggie and had been dismissed for 4 and 3 in the two innings. It was already
no secret that West Indies was deeply invested in the talent of Richards and
without Chandra to trouble him, Richards broke the shackles to score an
unbeaten 192, a career-defining innings.
It did not help that when he was on 12, Richards was caught by
Engineer behind the stumps off Venkat himself but umpire M.V. Gothoskar
turned down the appeal. Years later the umpire would reflect in his
autobiography, The Burning Finger, that it was an incorrect decision. In an
interview many years later to the Times of India, Venkat would also reflect
on that decision: ‘I don’t know what would have happened had he given
Richards out at that point in time. We might have won the Test match. My
captaincy was also at stake.’ But when asked whether that decision could
have nipped Richards’ career in the bud given his failures against Chandra
in the previous Test, Venkat’s response was unequivocal: ‘I don’t think so. I
always believe that talent can never be suppressed. It can be delayed.’
Lance Gibbs, the West Indies off-spinner, picked up 8 wickets while
the Indian captain bagged 1 in the match. India lost the match by an innings
and when Pataudi returned for the third Test at Calcutta, Venkat found
himself out of the XI and carrying drinks at the Eden Gardens. He would
take no further part in the series. About that experience Venkat merely says:
‘It was a big letdown. But I had the character to face that as well.’
In 1975, when the first ODI Prudential World Cup took place in
England, Venkat led an inexperienced Indian side. He was the only spinner
in the XI when England decimated the Indian attack in the first match piling
on 334 for 4 in 60 overs. Bedi was in the squad but despite his substantial
county experience, was not played. Venkat talks about what happened when
India batted:
‘Faced with such a daunting task, our reply was pathetic. Just 132 runs
came from 60 overs. This was the match which ruffled the feathers of one
of India’s greatest opening batsmen. The anticlimax was the batting
performance of Sunil Gavaskar who batted through the 60 overs to make 36
runs. I dare say that in spite of reminders he did injustice to the viewing
public. The wicket was pretty good and I do not know what was going
through his mind. He never heeded to the reminders sent to him.’
In the second match against East Africa, Venkat included Bedi who
came up with a spell of 12-8-6-1. India recorded its first-ever ODI victory
scoring 124 runs in 30 overs. Venkat cynically says about Gavaskar’s
innings in this instance: ‘Actually, Gavaskar scored 64 runs as against
Farokh’s 54 and I must say that his batting practice against England was not
wasted.’ A defeat against New Zealand despite Bedi’s 12-6-28-1 with
Glenn Turner scoring a magnificent 114, knocked India out of the
competition.
That winter when the Test season started, a long term captain had to be
appointed. His assured place in the team and continued good form with the
ball meant that the mantle fell on Bedi’s shoulders. Venkat was, however, in
the tour party to New Zealand and West Indies and played in the first Test at
Auckland with Bedi injured and Gavaskar officiating. A solitary wicket at
an average of 91 was not enough to keep his place for the next Test when
Bedi returned.
In the West Indies, with the Trinidad wicket traditionally aiding spin,
Venkat played in both Tests at Port of Spain. Bedi had always respected
Venkat as a bowler and this showed in the 178 overs that he was given in
the 2 Tests but 7 wickets at 52.85 was perhaps less recompense than the
proud Venkat would have liked for his efforts.
In the winter of 1976-77, the opposition Venkat would have the most
success against in his career, New Zealand, came to visit. To be fair to the
visitors, the 0-2 series scoreline did them no discredit with only two real
world-class cricketers in the side, Glenn Turner and Richard Hadlee. On
tracks that aided spin, the Quartet were in their element. Venkat, starting the
series with his career wicket haul at 98, played his role well, picking up 11
wickets. In the sole Test that he played at Kotla against England in the
series that followed immediately afterwards, Venkat grabbed the wickets of
England’s best batsmen, Dennis Amiss and Tony Greig. Just two victims in
the Test against some dour opposition batting was, however, not enough for
Bedi to keep the faith in his second offie for the rest of the series.
A year later, Venkat’s maiden tour of Australia would turn out to be a
washout as he played only at Perth’s WACA, the home of fast bowling and
as far removed as possible from any pitch that he had ever bowled on,
picking up 2 wickets at a disappointing 70 runs each from 51 eight-ball
overs.
Disappointing as his recent career had been both in terms of the few
opportunities he had been given and his failure to capitalise adequately
when they had come his way, the 1978 series in Pakistan would truly be the
nadir. Still a force to reckon with as their previous tour of Australia had
shown, the Spin Quartet made the historic tour. But while the other three
played, perhaps fortunately as hindsight would show given the fate of the
other three, Venkat warmed the benches through the tour.

Life Beyond the Quartet

When the Spin Quartet went to Pakistan, other than Prasanna who was
thirty-eight, the other three (who were all between thirty-two and thirty-
three years old), could be said to be at their prime as far as spinners’ ages
are concerned. But when they returned after a 2-0 mauling (there could be
no other description for the bloodbath that the Pakistani batsmen wrought
on the hapless tweakers) their careers were over for all practical purposes.
All except Venkat.
Gavaskar took over the captaincy from Bedi for the home series
against the West Indies and by the time the third Test had ended, both
Chandra and Bedi had been dropped, Prasanna’s career having already
ended in Pakistan. The search for the new spin wizards had started and the
likes of M.V. Narasimha Rao and Dhiraj Parsana, who not many would
refer to as frontline spinners, were making their Test debuts.
In that third Test at Calcutta, only Venkat had shown that he still
possessed what had made him a part of the famed Quartet with a haul of 7
for 102 in 63 overs of high-quality off-spin. At Madras in the next Test,
Venkat followed up with yet another 7-wicket haul to firmly seal his place
in the new scheme of things. In fact, Venkat would go on to take 20 wickets
that home season at 24.75 apiece, making it his best season performance in
seven years.
The following summer when the first away Test series to England
since the debacle of 1974 approached, given his form and seniority, Venkat
once again found himself leading the side, this time as captain for the full
series.
But first there was the second World Cup to get over with. Venkat and
his team had played a few ODIs since the 1975 debacle, but not much
looked to have changed when they made the inevitable early exit from the
tournament. In fact, this time the performance was even worse, losing by 9
wickets to the West Indies, 8 wickets to New Zealand and by 47 runs to
minnows Sri Lanka that had not yet attained Test-playing status.
In the Test series that followed, India gave a far better account of
themselves than they had done in 1974. But Bedi, Chandra and Venkat
himself, in their last series together as a trio, made little impact. Venkat
himself picked up only 6 wickets at an expensive 57.50 each. It was the
pace and swing of Kapil Dev and the movement obtained by Karsan Ghavri
and Mohinder Amarnath that was the story of India’s bowling on the tour.
Gavaskar scored 221 in the fourth innings and almost brought about a
miraculous victory in the final Test at the Oval before the middle order fell
apart.
Venkat’s captaincy was criticised for not sending in Vishwanath at his
usual slot and instead opting for Kapil Dev’s anticipated heroics. The reality
is that it was a move that failed, as decisions sometimes do. Nonetheless, in
yet another reflection of how broken the working of the Indian cricket
administration continued to be, the mantle of captaincy passed on to
Gavaskar on the flight back from England via an announcement on the
plane’s public address system.
The manner in which the deed was done still rankles. For once the
anger and hurt is evident when Venkat recalls: ‘I think that incident was
absolutely weird and stupid. Sunil was sitting a few seats next to me and he
was so embarrassed. He got up and said I’m very sorry. Every team member
felt sorry. And there was no need for anybody to do that.’
Kapil Dev recalls the incident with disgust that is evident forty years
after it happened. He was only on his second tour as a nineteen-year-old at
the time. He tells me: ‘It was horrible. If there was one single reason we
didn’t grow as a team in the 1980s, it was that. When a company is doing
well and you keep changing the CEO, especially in such a manner, then the
growth will not take place. At that time they changed the captain so many
times. A captain doesn’t win you matches, it is a team that wins matches.
When the team is not good enough, you don’t have to change the captain.
The reality is that at that time we were not good enough as a team to win
consistently. What the Indian team is today is what other teams were at that
time. It takes maturity, which the team has today, and maturity comes with
hard work and talent.’54
That winter when the Australians came to visit under the leadership of
Kim Hughes, Venkat played in three of the Test matches, picking up 4
wickets at Madras, his final haul: 6, at another unacceptable average of
51.33. With Dilip Doshi replacing Bedi in stunning fashion and a new
young off-spinner, Shivlal Yadav, bowling magnificently in his debut series,
the last of the Quartet found himself on the sidelines.

e Final Comeback
If, however, Indian fans assumed they had seen the last of Venkat, they
were sadly mistaken. Continuing to ply his trade with dedication on the
domestic circuit, four years later, Venkat would rise again like a phoenix
from the ashes of the Quartet.
As India reeled from the now familiar decimation at the hands of
Pakistan in the 1982-83 series, the selectors were surely clutching at straws
in reviving the career of thirty-eight-year-old Venkat for the West Indies
tour of 1983 that preceded the World Cup in England.
It was too much to expect that Venkat would be able to revive the
magic of the 1971 series twelve years later but, nonetheless, he showed the
way to the youngsters bowling a staggering 190 overs in the Test series,
more than anyone else, and picked up 10 wickets at 58.60 runs each. Ravi
Shastri, almost twenty years his junior also picked up 10 at 47.20. None of
the heroics, however, could prevent India losing the Tests 2-0 and the ODI
series 2-1. It was another matter that the Kapil Dev-led side would imbibe
valuable lessons from the tour that would help them create history at Lord’s
a few months later.
For Venkat, this would pretty much signal the end of the road and
when he could manage only one victim at an average of 104.00 a year later
from 2 Tests at home against Pakistan, the curtain came down.
At the age of thirty-nine, having bagged 156 wickets from 57 Test
matches at 36.11 and held 44 precious catches, Venkat had finally bowled
his last ball in international cricket. His presence on the cricket field would,
however, continue for a long time to come.

e Second Innings India’s First ‘Elite Umpire’

Ten years after he played international cricket for the last time in an India
cap, Venkat made his international umpiring debut in India’s 1992-93 home
series against England at the Eden Gardens. During the course of the next
twelve years, he umpired 73 tests and 52 one-day internationals, earning
widespread commendation as one of the fairest and most knowledgeable
umpires on the Elite Panel of international umpires. He remains the only
Test captain to also umpire in Tests and has inspired other Test players to
follow in his footsteps with Kumar Dharmasena and Paul Reiffel being two
such former Test players on the current list of twelve umpires that form the
ICC’s Elite Panel.
What attracted him to umpiring and indeed what made him so
successful?
‘I like the cerebral aspect of cricket. Umpiring gave me an opportunity
to give something back to the game. It was a fresh challenge. The players
respected me because I had played so much cricket,’ Venkataraghavan says.
Former Hyderabad off-spinner V. Ramnarayan, who played school,
university and first-class cricket with and against Venkat, tells me: ‘The
qualities that make Venkat such a good umpire were evident in him from as
early as his schooldays, when I first met him. These qualities were a
thorough knowledge of the game and its laws, fearlessness, superb physical
fitness, the ability to concentrate hard for hours, a brisk decisiveness and a
commanding presence.’55
When Venkat retired as an umpire, Ramnarayan wrote: ‘Of most
combative sportsmen, it can be said truthfully that they mellow with age. I
believe Venkat suffers from no such constraint. He continued to be
aggressive and relentlessly focused on his job as an umpire, just as he used
to be as a player. He is indeed a professional, with whom pride of
performance in all he does is an article of faith,’ words that must have
brought a quiet smile of pride to the cerebral and proud Venkat.

Did Venkat Get a Raw Deal As a Player?

A debate that raged during his playing days and continues among people of
a certain vintage today, is whether Venkat deserved better than he got
during his playing days, given his talent.
It is a fact of life that the captain’s match strategy and how a bowler
fits into the scheme of things is as important in determining the chances a
Test player gets, as talent itself. It does not take a genius to figure out that
more adventurous captain Pataudi preferred Prasanna’s flight and guile over
Venkat’s containment and flatter trajectory. His more conservative
successor Wadekar, preferred Venkat’s run-saving capability and undeniably
superior fielding that gave the team an edge on the field. The result was that
Venkat played 13 Tests under Wadekar where Prasanna was only included
in 8, the two playing together only four times. When Pataudi returned as
captain, not only did Prasanna get more chances, he also bowled far more
overs (207 for 15 wickets at 40.07) than either Bedi or Chandra.
It is also a fact that sometimes one draws conclusions based on
perception rather than reality. A comparison of the records of the Quartet
does not throw up any bias or obvious injustice meted out to Venkat.
It might surprise some that Venkat bowled almost as many balls in
Test cricket as Prasanna (14,877 versus 14,353) but while Prasanna picked
up a wicket every 76 balls, Venkat only managed to do so every 95
deliveries he sent down, the least incisive of the four. In this respect the
most impactful bowler was clearly Chandra, bagging a wicket every 66
deliveries from his 15,963 deliveries, which by sheer numbers is only
second to Bedi. In terms of workload, Bedi clearly bore the brunt sending
down 21.364 deliveries and picking up a wicket every 80 balls.
If one looks at performance by opponent, the results are as conclusive.
By far the weakest cricket nation when the Spin Quartet operated was New
Zealand so it’s unsurprising that the Quartet’s best record would be against
the Kiwis. Here, while Venkat averaged 22.81 per wicket, Prasanna
managed 20.12 and Bedi an even more phenomenal 19.14. Against
England, India’s most frequent opponent during the time, Venkat, perhaps
because he was closest in style to English bowlers and hence the most
predictable, was again the least effective, with an average of 46.65 versus
Prasanna’s 32.36 and Chandra’s 27.27.
It is only fitting that it is the cerebral Venkat who provides the best
perspective on a debate which could otherwise go on forever, truly
pragmatic in his response when asked the question about whether he felt
done in by Lady Luck: ‘I can’t say it was bad luck. Definitely not. I felt bad
that I was not picked and given more opportunity. That’s a different thing
but at the same time you should remember during that period we had four
of us competing for three places. It is rather difficult to play four, when you
have to pick three.’
 Together ey Spun a Web Around the World
Bishan Singh Bedi

‘Bedi was a real study for the connoisseur. His ideal well-balanced
run always brought him into the perfect delivery position. The ball
was held but in the tips of long, almost delicate fingers, which never
seemed to get tired, but always retained great flexibility and control.
There were regular but very subtle changes of pace—variations in
flight, and always coupled with genuine spin. The end product was a
delight to watch and I do not hesitate to rank Bedi amongst the finest
bowlers of his type that we have seen.’
—Don Bradman56

Beating a Batsman Twice

In his delightful biography of Bishan Singh Bedi titled Bishan, Suresh
Menon, former editor of Wisden, pens a stunning description of Bedi’s
bowling, capturing its essence:
‘Like a jazz artist, he used the orthodoxy to improvise, to discover
new themes and to lull the batsman into thinking he has heard the music
before, only to have it change pitch and leave him looking foolish. Bedi
could pitch six balls on the same spot and make them do different things, or
pitch them at different points and make them do the same thing. Few
understood better than Bedi the separate roles played by the fingers, the
palm, the arm, the shoulder, the hip, the leg and the toes. He could alter the
position of one of them at the top of his bowling mark and change the
delivery.’
Former English captain Tony Lewis, in his profile of Bedi written for
The Cricketer in 1975, uses a horology analogy to explain Bedi’s action: ‘I
have always thought that a great clockmaker would have been proud to
have set Bedi on motion—a mechanism finely balanced, cogs rolling
silently and hands sweeping in smooth arcs across the face.’
Menon goes on to say: ‘Bedi’s art lay in the apparent artlessness of his
flight and his control over length. He could pitch six balls in an over on a
fifty-paise coin but the batsman seldom realised that each time it came from
a slightly different direction, a slightly different angle or at a slightly
different pace. Bedi could release the ball behind, over, or in front of the
straight line formed by his extended hand—in other words, at different
points of the arc. Each time the arm finished in front of the right thigh, so
the batsman had no hint as to the speed of the delivery. Changes in palm
manoeuvres enabled Bedi to hold back the ball and pretend to give it a
massive tweak, when in reality it would merely float past in a straight line.’
The final piece of the puzzle that batsmen faced was something Bedi
himself explained to me with a broad smile when we spent a delightful
afternoon together, prefacing it with a remark about Kirmani being the best
wicketkeeper he had ever seen in an India cap. The dismissal that he truly
thrived on, Bedi confided, was when batsmen were stumped. ‘I enjoyed that
the most because then I had beaten the batsmen twice, once in the air and
then again off the wicket and there was none like Kiri when it came to
anticipating and executing the stumping when this happened.’57
Kirmani is as effusive about Bedi’s bowling when we speak, calling
him ‘an absolute genius.’ He explains how he anticipated Bedi’s deliveries:
‘I watched Bedi’s wrist and his fingers closely. You had to watch the ball
until it arrived because it could do unanticipated things at the last moment.
After that it was up to my agility and reflexes to affect the stumping.’58
From the perspective of a batsman who faced this repeatedly in county
and Test cricket, Tony Lewis writes: ‘Stoically Bishan Bedi casts his bait,
over after over, each ball looking like the last, until the victim is drawn
forward where the ball no more is and that is the dream for which he
endlessly toils for Northamptonshire and for India.’
Bedi himself tells me simply: ‘I learnt humility from Tiger Pataudi and
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar, how to deceive a man in the air and off the wicket
from Erapalli, and how to fight it out from Venkat. And all this made me the
bowler I was.’59
But to the great Jim Laker must go the last word: ‘My idea of paradise
is Lord’s in the sunshine, with Ray Lindwall bowling from one end and
Bishan Bedi from the other’.

Arrival of the Sardar of Spin

If Pataudi had not already formulated his Blue Ocean Strategy of Spin, the
arrival of this diminutive shy young man from Amritsar sporting a turban,
with magic in his fingers and a Rolls Royce action to match, would surely
have tilted the scales heavily in that direction. As it so happened, the
strategy was in place and in Suresh Menon’s words, ‘With the coming of
Bedi, the orchestra was complete: it would play some of the sweetest music
in Indian cricket over the next few years.’60
On a December evening in Calcutta, Bedi was pretty much the last
person to know that he would be making his Test debut the next morning.
The Garry Sobers-led West Indies, carrying the tag of World Champions,
were in India in 1966-67 to play a Test series. Bedi had been asked to come
and bowl at the nets before India took on the visitors at Calcutta. In the
evening he was packing to go to Chandigarh for some inter-varsity matches
and dropped in to Pataudi’s room to say goodbye. Pataudi asked him: ‘Why
don’t you join me for a drink?’ Bedi reminded him that he didn’t drink.
‘Ah! But now that you are an India player, you must have a drink with me,’
came the reply.61
Any debut is memorable for the player involved but this one would be
hard to forget and for completely non-cricketing reasons. In an act that
would stun even the worst perpetrators of modern airline overbooking,
20,000 more tickets than the seating capacity of Eden Gardens were sold by
the Cricket Association of Bengal. The result was a riot on the second day
of the match with West Indies 212 for 4 overnight, Bedi having taken out
the two batsmen not to be run out. The pavilion was set on fire and the pitch
was dug up. Sobers, with a magnificent innings of 70 on a pitch that would
have shamed a third-division Calcutta team, took the game away from India
when play resumed, taking West Indies to 390. India was dismissed twice
on a pitch that broke up completely with Sobers and Lance Gibbs pitching
on the cracks and holes on the surface to take 14 wickets between them.
The Indian team had quite justifiably wanted the match to be
abandoned after the riot and the extensive damage to the pitch. Pataudi
would say later: ‘India’s defeat was inevitable. I did not relish playing on in
such circumstances but we had to.’
Bedi is rather less reticent when he talks about his first lesson in how
India’s cricket administration worked: ‘Objectively speaking, we should not
have resumed the game but there were bigger issues at stake and we were
given a bonus of Rs 100 as inducement. The officials also subtly let it be
known that if we pulled out, our futures would be at stake.’62
It was one of the many instances when Indian cricket administrators
would act against the interest of the team and the game. Over the course of
the next decade and more, Bedi would be at the forefront of such battles,
fighting for the players.
The final encounter of the series at Madras was the first time young
Bedi would actually play a full uninterrupted Test match and alongside him
would be Prasanna and Chandrasekhar. The Triumvirate was in place.
Defending India’s score of 404 thanks to centuries by Chandu Borde
and Farokh Engineer (who to his eternal regret managed only 94 before
lunch, missing the chance to become only the third man and the first Indian
to hit a century on the first morning of a Test match), the three spinners took
7 wickets between them (Bedi scalping one) helping restrict West Indies to
406. India scored 323 in the second knock. It was only two catches off Bedi
being dropped, Sobers the beneficiary in both instances that allowed the
West Indies to salvage a draw, Griffith doggedly hanging in with Sobers to
save the match. Bedi took 4 crucial wickets bemusing both the great Rohan
Kanhai and the newly discovered star, Clive Lloyd. The latter had little idea
about the ball that rose and spun sharply into him off a good length to take
off the bails as he was shaping up for a cut.

e First Decade
It would take 9 Test matches before Bishan Bedi would pick up his first 5-
wicket haul. It would come against New Zealand at Christchurch in
February 1968 when he took 6 for 127 in the first innings, following it up
with two in the second. In the tours of England and Australia that preceded
it, he would hone the skills that would eventually make him one of the most
effective Indian bowlers in history on non-subcontinental pitches.
It would also be about the effort that he put in. Bedi talked to me about
what went into the success: ‘If I had to bowl 30 overs in a Test match, my
preparation had to be in sending down three times more at the nets. It is the
preparation which counts.’63 Talking about India’s tour of England in 2018
when India lost 4-1 and went into the first Test at Birmingham without
practice in the longer format under English conditions, Bedi says: ‘What
kind of preparation is a four-day practice match against Essex which the
Indian team asks to stop after three days because of the heat in England?’
From a man used to playing six days a week all year under varied
conditions, besides practice sessions at the nets, it was a valid question
indeed.
This dedication to preparedness would start showing its results early in
his career. When Australia visited India in 1969-70, it would once again be
at Calcutta that Bedi put in a performance that turned out to be his career
best, picking up 7 wickets for 98 runs. As was unfortunately the case
throughout the careers of the Quartet, it was the batting that let the side
down. Unable to handle the pace and aggression of Graham McKenzie,
India lost by 10 wickets despite Bedi’s effort, eventually handing over the
series to Bill Lawrie’s strong team, 3-1. Bedi collected 21 scalps.
If there was a golden era for Indian cricket before 1983, it had to be
the period between 1971 and 1973. Pataudi’s Spin Strategy was reaching its
intended take-off point and the efforts of the previous decade were to bear
fruit. Sadly, it would be just then that Vijay Merchant as chairman of
selectors would feel the need to replace Pataudi and put Ajit Wadekar in
place. Wadekar to his credit, much as a good rugby player would do, carried
the ball that he had been passed, very effectively leading India to an
unprecedented series of victories.
In the twenty-four-month period starting February 1971, India played
13 Test matches, winning 4 and losing 1. It was a remarkable run for a team
that had a net losing record in any one twenty-four-month period going
back to 1932. Ajit Wadekar would simply say: ‘It was a rare experience.’
The only member of the Quartet to feature in the playing 11 of those 13 Test
matches was Bishan Singh Bedi. His haul would be 51 wickets. Chandra
picked up 48 but he was left out of the West Indies tour.
 Having extensively covered this period in the earlier chapters, we
won’t go into it again but for Bedi this was the period when he would really
come into his own as the leading bowler of the side. While it was left to the
mercurial Chandra to provide the stunning victories, it was Bedi tirelessly
bowling hundreds of overs, never letting up, every invitation to hit bringing
with it a deadly consequence immediately after, that truly broke down the
opposition batsmen mentally.
Invited to play for the World XI against Australia, Bedi would prove
to be enormously popular with the fans down under who were seeing him
for the first time. Kersi Meher-Homji who watched that series recalls: ‘Bedi
when touring Australia with the World XI in 1971-72 was so popular that
Aussie crowds would chant ‘Bishie, Bishie’ every time he touched the ball.’
As Suresh Menon rightly concludes in Bishan: ‘Already Bedi was
beginning to be seen as a different type of bowler—one who took wickets,
yes; one who restricted run, yes; but, above all, one who gave pleasure.
Increasingly, from here on, he would begin to be judged on a higher level
than his contemporaries or not judged at all since he seemed to be moving
to the beat of a different drum altogether.’
And then came 1974, when the Indian team were brought crashing
down to earth. It was the unfortunately labelled ‘Summer of 42’ when India
were dismissed for 42 at Lord’s and lost the series accompanied by the
ignominy of not being allowed inside the Indian High Commission and a
player who pleaded guilty to shoplifting (to be fair, he was badly advised by
the team management in this) at Marks & Spencer’s. The 3-0 scoreline in
England in the end was not surprising. When the West Indies went 2-0 up
by the time the teams came to Calcutta for the year-end Test match of 1974,
it had truly been a year to forget.
On New Year’s day of 1975 when a hungover Bedi requested Pataudi
to get Chandra to bowl first and then pleaded with the skipper to keep him
on despite being hit for a couple of boundaries by Lloyd, it was indeed a
new dawn that would be heralded. After Chandra did his magic, Bedi would
come in and wrap up the rest of the West Indies side giving India the
unlikeliest of victories.
India won the next Test in Madras thanks to a brilliant 97 from
Vishwanath, still considered one of the greatest knocks ever played by an
Indian batsman on Indian soil. Bedi kept him company for much of it.
Prasanna with 9 wickets and Bedi with 6 ensured an Indian victory by 100
runs. At Bombay in the final Test, West Indies emerged winners to conclude
one of the most exciting home series of all time.

e Arrival of the Spinner-Captain

It was a significant moment in India’s cricketing history when Bedi took
over from his cricketing hero, Tiger Pataudi, as captain of India and walked
out for the toss against New Zealand at Christchurch in February 1976. He
was the first specialist spinner since Ghulam Ahmed to have the mantle of
Indian captaincy rest upon his shoulders. Coincidentally, it would be at the
same venue he had taken his first 5-wicket haul as a bowler eight years
before. In that instance India had lost the match, but fortunately, in his first
Test as captain, the result would be different. Sunil Gavaskar and Gundappa
Vishwanath’s batting ensured that the teams shared the honours at the end
of the fifth day. In fact, if Bedi had not pulled a calf muscle before the first
Test of the series at Auckland, he could have had the Indian victory there
against his name in his first Test as captain. But in this instance, the honour
would be Gavaskar’s, as leading the side in Bedi’s absence, he and Surinder
Amarnath scored centuries and Prasanna achieved his career best figures of
8 for 76, helping India to an 8-wicket win. India lost the third Test at
Wellington for the series to end all square at one Test each. Bedi himself
had taken 22 wickets at 13.18 apiece.
It is a long trip from New Zealand to the West Indies. Bedi’s team
travelled sixty-two hours to get there and face up to Clive Lloyd’s new
generation squad. Notwithstanding a recent 1-4 battering from Lillee and
Thomson down under, Lloyd’s team was one of the top sides in
contemporary cricket. Roy Fredericks, Lawrence Rowe, Vivian Richards,
Alvin Kallicharran, Clive Lloyd, Deryck Murray, Brendan Julien and
Michael Holding would walk into most teams in the world of their day.
Expectations from the Indians was relatively low given that the 1971 Port
of Spain victory remained the only Test match India had ever won in the
West Indies in fourteen attempts.
But Indian cricket fans are the most optimistic bunch of people on
earth. So when the first Test got underway, there was hope that the team
would do well. Just as quickly, when the team was embarrassed in the first
Test at Bridgetown and folded up in a territory match in two-and-a-half
days right after, fans back in India had already written off the series. The
second Test at Queen’s Park Oval was drawn and then the teams came to
Port of Spain, India’s happy hunting ground, for the third Test.
On winning the toss the West Indies chose to bat but was soon reeling
at 52 for 3, the batsmen unable to cope with Chandrasekhar who was
having one of those days when he was virtually unplayable. Viv Richards
scored 177, lucky to be dropped a few times and given not out by the
umpire when stumped by a mile. West Indies ended the day at 320 for 5, all
the departed batsmen victims of Chandra. The next day Bedi got into the
act, dismissing Richards and then the rest of the batting, all within two runs,
picking up 4 wickets. India batted poorly to be all out for 228 and Clive
Lloyd declared at 271 for 6, leaving India 404 to win the match, a low
probability task on a wearing pitch.
What happened has gone down in history as a turning point in Indian
cricket. Sunil Gavaskar and Gundappa Vishwanath scored centuries,
Mohinder Amarnath struck a beautiful 85 before being run out and India
achieved the seemingly impossible with Brijesh Patel guiding the team to
406 for 4 and a famous victory.
Clive Lloyd wryly admits: ‘We had three spinners on a Trinidad pitch
which traditionally takes spin and they didn’t deliver. When you declare
403 ahead in the fourth innings on a wearing pitch, you only expect one
team to win, the one setting the target. The Indians applied themselves. We
were not good enough and they won.’ What Lloyd failed to gauge was that
this was a batting side that thrived on spin, was experienced facing quality
tweakers on wearing pitches and perhaps, as importantly, were led by a man
who did not believe in half measures. If there was the possibility of a win,
Bedi would go for it and this time his batsmen delivered.
If the result of this match was historic, the consequences of the West
Indian loss would be epoch-making. The West Indies had been battered by
Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson in the previous series. The Indian Spin
Quartet (or triumvirate in this case) had the measure of them in this Test and
had been an effective strategy for a decade at that point. These two facts
together made Clive Lloyd decide that he needed to do something different
to change the trajectory of West Indian cricket.
When the West Indies fielded their team in the fourth Test at Sabina
Park, Wayne Daniel and Vanburn Holder were drafted in to join Holding
and Julien. The Indians were battered with bouncers and beamers from the
foursome. Bodyline was invoked and India’s figures for the two innings
read 306 for 6 and 97 for 5, respectively.
Manager Polly Umrigar told a press conference: ‘Holding bowled
three or four bouncers per over. The intimidation was persistent and his
intention was clear when he went round the wicket to aim at the batsmen.’
Journalist Rajan Bala wrote: ‘Many years later, Holding admitted to me he
was ashamed of that Test.’
In his own account of events in his autobiography, Whispering Death,
Holding said: ‘On that surface, it was inevitable that some batsmen would
be hit against such a pace-based attack as ours, especially as we adopted the
tactic of bowling from around the wicket, aiming the ball at their bodies. I
was not too keen on this method since it gives the batsman little chance of
avoiding a bouncer, especially against bowlers with plenty of speed but it
was 1-1 in the series and, after Australia, we were under extreme public
pressure to win.’
Bedi told me: ‘I spoke to the umpire at lunchtime in the first innings.
By then (Anshuman) Gaekwad (hit over his ear) and Vishwanath (broken
finger) had been injured as well and I had three batsmen in hospital. The
umpire laughed. When Brijesh (Patel) was hit on the mouth and came back
to the dressing room, I declared. In the second innings, we were effectively
all out as I had no batsmen to send out after we were 97 for 5.’64
Dilip Vengsarkar shook his head when I asked him about that Test
match. ‘There was a ridge on the legside and Holding was at his deadly best
bowling at our bodies around the wicket. The fact that the odd ball would
hit the ridge and rear up dangerously was only to be expected. Many of my
colleagues were hit in front of me. Gaekwad and Brijesh Patel were injured
but luckily I was not. Holding, at the best of times, was an outstanding
bowler. On that surface he was just plain deadly when with his pace and
bounce he could anyway hit batsmen at will. I guess Lloyd would probably
have lost his captaincy if he hadn’t found a formula to win and we were
first in line. England in the following series experienced what we faced.’65
West Indies ran away with a 10-wicket victory.
This was an inflexion point. The Spin Quartet strategy would be
adapted to a Pace Quartet strategy by Clive Lloyd and for the next two
decades, injury, destruction and devastation would be wrought upon hapless
batsmen the world over by a pace foursome whose members would change
but whose intent and execution would be unrelenting. Hospitals would be
on standby when the West Indies played a Test match. Facing up to a West
Indian fast bowler would be no less dangerous to body and life than falling
off a speeding motorcycle. The helmet would be invented. Test cricket
would change forever.
And it all started that twelfth day of April 1976 when Bishan Bedi’s
India executed the greatest chase since Bradman’s Invincibles.
Back in India a few months later, when the Kiwis paid a visit, Bedi’s
boys had recovered from the ordeal in the Caribbean. Wisden would say: ‘It
is to the credit of Bedi’s leadership that his team came out of the depression
and acquitted themselves so well thereafter.’ A 2-0 victory against a
relatively weak New Zealand was just what the team needed to get back
their confidence.
In the first Test at Bombay Gavaskar scored a century and, with the
help of a typically gritty knock of 88 from Syed Kirmani, took India to 399.
Bedi, Venkat and Chandra then dismissed the Kiwis for 298. With immense
confidence in the ability of his spinners and brushing aside Lloyd’s recent
experience, the attacking captain in Bedi declared at 202 for 4, leaving New
Zealand 304 to win. Then, he put in a magical bowling performance picking
up 5 wickets for 27 in 33 overs and with Chandra and Venkat chipping in
with two each, dismissed the visitors for 141. India won the Test by 162
runs and with a 216-runs win at Madras in the third Test, wrapped up the
series convincingly.
The results of the remarkably dramatic series that followed against
England immediately after would, however, be very different,
notwithstanding, Bedi’s personal haul of 25 wickets at 22.96 apiece.
The series against Tony Greig’s England would have been notable for
a whole slew of reasons anyway. It was the first time India had lost the first
3 Tests of a home series. It was also England’s first series win in India since
Douglas Jardine had brought the first visiting side to play Tests on Indian
soil back in 1933-34. But instead it was a jar of Vaseline petroleum jelly
that would bring to a breaking point the long cricketing relationship
between England and India, and Bedi would be at the centre of the
controversy.
India had narrowly lost 1-2 to West Indies and the same Caribbeans
had beaten England 3-0 before the English arrived on Indian shores. The
series was at best expected to be a closely fought one. It all changed in the
first Test. India were 43 for 1 in reply to England’s 381 when the ball was
changed as it was purportedly out of shape. Suddenly the openers, Gavaskar
and Gaekwad, found the replacement ball being swung wildly by debutant
left-arm medium pacer John Lever as though this was Headingley and not
New Delhi. He ended the Test with dramatic figures of 7 for 46 and 3 for 24
and India lost by an innings. In the second Test, India made 155 and 181
and lost by 10 wickets and capitulated for 174 and 83 to lose at Madras.
By this time Bedi could no longer keep silent. He was at the crease on
the third day in Madras when he drew umpire Judah Reuben’s attention to
pieces of Vaseline-dipped gauze that had been discarded by Lever and
opening ball partner Bob Willis. Reuben called Tony Greig and confronted
him, then reported the incident at tea. The implication was obvious. Bedi
spoke to the media at the end of day’s play and told them he suspected
Lever had been using the vaseline to achieve swing since the Delhi Test,
adding for good measure: ‘It is disgusting that England should stoop so
low.’ The ball was sent for forensic analysis and sure enough there were
traces of vaseline on it. The English maintained the gauze had been
supplied by England’s physio to prevent sweat from rolling into the player’s
eyes. A fourth day banner at the match read: ‘Cheater Lever go home, Tony
Greig down down.’
In a gesture demonstrating what Suresh Menon would describe as their
‘colonial hang-up’ that stunned fans but was in line with how Indian cricket
administrators often behaved, the tour committee (R.P. Mehra, Fatesingh
Rao Gaekwad, M.A. Chidambaram, P.M. Rungta) was unable to decide if
the actions of the bowlers were deliberate and left the decision to the MCC.
A grateful English manager Ken Barrington thanked the board for accepting
the action was not deliberate. Bishan Bedi, not for the first time, was left
fighting a losing battle on his own.
The consequences on Bedi personally would be severe. His
longstanding contract with Northamptonshire would not be renewed and in
the most bizarre move of all, the MCC, led by former England captain Ray
Illingworth and supported by Test and County Cricket Board secretary
Donald Carr, would make a futile but very public attempt to label him a
chucker. This, to a man whose bowling action was deemed so perfect that
the MCC themselves had made and sent across a video so that English
spinners countrywide could copy it and learn from it. The arrogance with
which England once ruled the cricketing world was evident in the core
question being asked by these men: ‘Why should Bedi have a career in the
country he accuses of unfair practices?’
Bedi stayed back in England with due notice to the Indian board that
he was consulting with his solicitors about suing the county for breach of
contract. This meant he would miss the fitness camp in Madras. The
unsympathetic Indian board subsequently announced that because he had
missed the fitness camp, he would not be picked for the team to Australia.
Writing in the Times of India, K.N. Prabhu invoked French diplomat
Tallyrand, saying: ‘This is worse than a crime. It is a blunder.’ He went on
to point out: ‘To insist on Bedi joining a fitness camp is to say the least,
farcical for here is a bowler who, in the course of twelve months, has
bowled 2,514.5 overs, plus sixty 8-ball overs.’ This was more than the rest
of the Quartet put together. At the last minute, better sense prevailed and
Bedi led the Indian team to Australia for what would be a significant Test
series, clashing for public attention and attendance, as it did, with the onset
of the Kerry Packer Series.
The tour began well for Bedi with a 5-wicket haul on the opening day.
Bill O’Reilly wrote: ‘Bedi got the ball to bite and managed just that subtle
amount of ousting float, to mesmerise the batting.’ Bedi would take 31
wickets in the 5 Tests at 23.87 apiece against an under-strength Australian
side led by forty-two-year-old Bobby Simpson coming out of retirement at
a crisis point in Australian cricket when many of the frontline players had
defected to Packer’s WSC. Silencing the naysayers, Simpson would lead
the side magnificently and bat as he did in his heydays to help his side go 2-
0 up in the series, albeit with narrow margins. India won the next two Tests
convincingly by 222 runs and an innings respectively in what was turning
out to be a truly thrilling series.
In cricket’s last hurrah against the changes to the sport that Packer’s
efforts would eventually bring, more than 70,000 people would show up to
watch the first two days of the final Test at Melbourne, while Packer stands
went empty. Traditional cricket had made its point and would only gain
from the compromise solution Packer would finally agree to with the
Australian board.
India lost the Test and the series which they should perhaps have won
but Bishan Bedi and his boys had made a statement for Test cricket. Don
Bradman would write: ‘We have to go back to 1903-04 when Wilfred
Rhodes was England’s equivalent of Bedi, to find a slow left-hander who
equalled Bedi’s bag of wickets in an Australian Test series. I feel great
admiration for the Indian team and there is no doubt that the example of
Bedi’s sportsmanship permeated the whole atmosphere of the Tests.’

End of An Era and Life Beyond the 22 Yards

The Pakistan series of 1978 was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s
back. Shortly after that, at the age of thirty-three, when many spinners are at
the peak of their prowess, Bedi was dropped from the team and replaced by
Dilip Doshi, who at thirty-two, was only a year younger and had been
waiting in the wings for over a decade.
The three Tests at Faisalabad, Lahore and Karachi witnessed the birth
of India’s future in the form of Kapil Dev and the demise of its past in the
form of the Spin Quartet, or at least the Triumvirate, Venkat largely
surviving another five years on the basis of not being picked in the XI
during the tour. The Pakistani batsmen took the tired spinners to the
cleaners on absolutely flat batting tracks. After the first Test Bedi remarked:
‘To bowl on this wicket was like being condemned to years of hard labour.’
He managed only 6 wickets in the three Tests, watching his side lose the
series 0-2.
The writing had perhaps been on the wall when the tour commenced
with the ODI and it all went downhill after India won the first at Quetta by
4 runs. At Sialkot, the Pakistani fast bowlers skittled India out for 79,
Mohinder Amarnath standing on the burning deck with an unbeaten 34,
unable to prevent an 8-wicket loss.
Then the teams came to Sahiwal for the ODI and also played the
second and third Tests. The effect of the less than honest umpiring through
the series, when Pakistan could effectively be said to have been playing
with 13 players, combined with a deliberately negative bowling, now
brought the tour almost to a breaking point. India was not far from
overhauling Pakistan’s score with 23 runs to get in 14 balls. For a while, the
Pakistani bowlers had been bowling too wide and short for the Indian
batsmen to touch the ball, clearly under instructions from captain Mushtaq
Mohammad.
Then with little Gundappa Vishwanath at the crease, in the 37th over
of the match, Sarfraz Nawaz bowled four successive deliveries that Karsan
Ghavri who played in that match described to me thus: ‘Two Vishys
standing on top of each other with bat extended could not have touched
them’.66 The umpires were unmoved.
The actions of the umpires were by now hardly surprising. In his book,
Suresh Menon talks about playing a ‘friendly’ limited-overs match for
Indian journalists against their Pakistani counterparts on a later tour and
chasing a modest total. Each Pakistani over was being declared closed
either after 4 or 5 balls. When Menon went up to Test umpire Khizar Hayat
and asked: ‘Do you know that you umpires are calling “over” after four
balls?’, pat came the reply: ‘Yes, but what can you do about it?’
Dilip Vengsarkar laughed when he recalled for me the umpiring on
that tour. ‘With the Pakistani umpires it was impossible to get either a LBW
decision or a bat-pad. Without these two modes of dismissal available, the
three spinners in the team had little chance of succeeding and the batsmen
could play with no fear of getting out to them. Zaheer Abbas and his fellow
batsmen went berserk. The spinners may have been towards the end of their
careers but they could have all played a couple of years more if we had not
toured Pakistan.’67
Back at Sahiwal, Bedi asked Anshuman Gaekwad and Vishwanath to
come back in and conceded the match. It was the first ODI in history that
had ended this way. Bedi was just doing what he did best, ensuring that
either the game was played fairly or not at all. Till the end, there were no
half measures.
Bedi’s action brought both support and brickbats in equal measure.
Cambridge educated Majid Khan spoke of a ‘jihad’ with India while
English official Raman Subba Row and Tiger Pataudi were solidly behind
Bedi. K.N. Prabhu wrote eloquently: ‘Not far away at Harappa, lie the ruins
of an ancient civilisation. It would be a tragedy if this series should also end
in ruin.’ In the end the Pakistan board took the easy route squarely blaming
only the bowler Sarfraz Nawaz for the situation but subsequent diplomacy
allowed the tour to continue.
On his return, having committed the worst crime any Indian captain
can be accused of—losing a series against Pakistan—Bedi was replaced as
captain. Gavaskar took over from him and after the third Test of the six Test
series against Alvin Kallicharran’s second string West Indies side at home,
Bedi was dropped. The relationship between Bedi and Gavaskar was by
then at an all time low. ‘I am glad I was dropped. I could not have played
another Test under his captaincy,’ was Bedi’s remark.68
 Bedi made the trip to England the next summer under Venkat’s
captaincy but the three Tests he played there would prove to be his last,
bowling out after the Oval Test when Gavaskar’s 221 almost pulled off a
miracle like Port of Spain 1976.
In 67 Test matches, Bedi’s haul would be 266 wickets at an excellent
28.71 runs apiece. In first-class cricket, no bowler in the history of Indian
cricket is likely to ever overhaul his mind numbing tally of 1,560 wickets
from 370 matches at an average of 21.69.
More than the battering on the Pakistan tour itself, which he saw as
merely a culmination of things past, Bedi agrees that it was his years of
county cricket that eventually saw his career end earlier than anyone would
have wanted. ‘I would have lasted longer but I was keen to test the waters
of professionalism. It just meant I bowed out earlier than I would have liked
to.’
Bedi remained involved with cricket after sending down his last
delivery. He was national selector for a few years giving Maninder Singh a
break when he was still a teenager. He has seldom been credited for being
one of those who chose the 1983 World Cup team, the first time India had
picked a team of all-rounders suited for the limited-overs game in England.
He has also been a columnist, a commentator and a national coach and
manager.
In 1989, Bedi was appointed manager of the Indian team to New
Zealand. His friend Venkat remarked wryly: ‘This is either the greatest
stroke of genius or the worst appointment in Indian cricket.’ It took the
entire tour for the relationship between captain Azharuddin and manager
Bedi to evolve into something that worked. Nonetheless, when the team lost
the series and was on its way back to India, Bedi was asked about his
feelings about the tour. He was typically unsubtle and candid in his
response: ‘If the team wants to jump into the Pacific Ocean, I shall not stop
them.’
For the past twenty-five years Bedi, has been giving back to cricket
with his Bishan Bedi Cricket Coaching Trust which has produced cricketers
of the calibre of Yuvraj Singh, another man who imbibed the never-say-die
spirit of Bedi. The founding chairman of the trust was Tiger Pataudi. The
trust, as Bedi tells me, ‘is not only about coaching but teaching the culture
of cricket, about being a good cricketer, but also about being a good human
being and imbibing the spirit of cricket’.69
Pu ing the Player at the Centre of Indian Cricket
Beyond the spin and the captaincy, Bishan Bedi’s greatest contribution to
Indian cricket was his unflinching incessant efforts at bettering the lot of his
colleagues in a sport and in a country where administrators ruled the roost
and players were merely means to their financial end. It did not make him
popular with the men who ran the game from their ivory towers and offered
setbacks to his career that he brushed off while he continued doing the
‘right thing’. As he tells me with a smile: ‘People say I should have been
more diplomatic but that’s not me. Then I should have done IFS (Indian
Foreign Service), why did I play cricket?’70
Bedi talks about the financial woes of players of the time and the
reluctance of anyone to change their lot. After India had beaten both West
Indies and England in away series in 1971 and then again beaten England at
home, he proposed to Wadekar that they have a discussion with the board to
increase the pay of the players and offer them some reward for winning
three series in a row including two away series, an unprecedented
achievement till then. Wadekar expressed his reluctance. This issue would
be at the core of the fallout between Bedi and Wadekar during the 1974
England series.
Bedi tells me: ‘Before I made my debut the team was getting Rs 250.
In one Test match India beat New Zealand in four days, so the Board
deducted Rs 50. The winning Indian team consisted of Polly Umrigar,
Vinoo Mankad, Vijay Hazare and Subhash Gupte. But no one said
anything.’71
Bedi continues: ‘I started at Rs 750 per Test match, then Tiger got the
amount raised to Rs 2,000. And that’s where it was when we won the three
series under Wadekar. Since we were amateurs, it was still called a “smoke
allowance”. Finally, when I became the captain (in 1976) from Rs 2,000 it
had gone up to Rs 7,500 and now went up to Rs 16,000, plus we had a
Benevolent Fund and a Benefit Match. The difference was that I was able to
communicate with Chinnaswami (the chairman of the board at the time).
This is what I had learnt from Tiger, how to stand up for the team.’72
There are other stories that demonstrate Bedi’s reluctance to bow
down to unreasonable administrative pressure.
 A few months before the New Zealand tour, his first full series as
captain, Bedi took over the captaincy against a Sri Lankan side in late 1975
for unofficial Tests. At Nagpur, where winter temperatures can go down
significantly, the Indian team was put up at the MLA Hostel with hot water
in the bathrooms provided only for the manager and the captain. Meal
arrangements were also less than satisfactory. Bedi called up the secretary
of the Vidarbha Cricket Association to ask for better arrangements so that
his players could take showers during the Test match. ‘This is all we have,
you can do whatever you want to,’ was the reply, making it clear that he
wasn’t amused at being disturbed for such a ‘minor issue’. An incensed
Bedi shot back: ‘The crowd comes to watch us play, not to see you
officiate.’73
The secretary complained about Bedi’s high-handedness and Bedi
lodged his protest, so in an irony entirely lost on India’s cricket
administrators, a five-man committee (M.A. Chidambaram, R.P. Mehra,
S.K. Wankhede, P.M. Rungta and N.K.P. Salve) met in the five-star comfort
of Bombay’s Oberoi Hotel to investigate the issue of lack of hot water and
hot meals in the middle of winter for the national cricket team playing a
Test match. The fact that they agreed Bedi was right was of little comfort to
the affected players and the fracas did not prevent Bedi, the professional,
from picking up 10 wickets in the match which ended in a draw. Nor did it
prevent the administrators from failing to arrange return tickets for Bedi to
Delhi. So he ended up travelling on the luggage rack of a first-class
compartment to Delhi before taking a public bus to Chandigarh, in order to
play a Duleep Trophy match starting in two days.

e Secret of the Quartet’s Success

When I caught up with Bedi for this book, we had a fascinating discussion
about what truly made the Quartet special and so effective against all kinds
of opposition and on varied pitches around the world. This is what he told
me:
‘I thought about this and analysed it for close to ten years after I left
the game. It turned out that we were all technically very sound. We were all
side on, all four of us had wonderfully controlled delivery strides, beautiful
utilisations of the shoulder. When you release the ball, the shoulder follows
the ball and the body follows the shoulder in the follow-through. After that
we all had our own styles and our own ways of getting batsmen out. But
technical soundness was the key.’74
It is an analysis that every one of the Quartet I spoke to echoed.
Humble men all, they put technical ability at the core of what they
achieved. Perhaps it is an understatement, for mere technical ability cannot
explain the success of the Quartet. As these pages have shown, there was
much more to it than that. But like all success stories, a solid foundation
created the launching pad for genius to express itself and India was indeed
lucky that it had all four available over a two-decade period to spin a web
around batsmen the world over. The evidence of their success lies in the
continuing fascination with their craft and their achievements, almost four
decades after they spun the last red ball.
 Unlucky Ones
e Lost Generation of Indian Spin

‘I was not destined to bowl for India. I have no regrets really. I played
cricket and that is what matters.’
—Padmakar Shivalkar

For sixteen long years, from 1962 when Prasanna made his Test debut for
India, to 1978 when he was dropped from the team, not a single spin bowler
outside the Quartet made his Test debut for India. It was only the
embarrassing annihilation of their reputations wrought by Pakistani
batsmen on India’s 1978 tour of its neighbour that shook the establishment
enough to make the changes that were perhaps long overdue.
On that Pakistan tour, Prasanna’s average from the two Tests he played
was 125.50 for each of the two wickets he picked up, each of Bedi’s 3
wickets cost him 74.38 and Chandra fared marginally better giving up 48.12
runs for each of his four victims. Venkat would have counted himself lucky
for having missed Test selection on the tour.
Notwithstanding that late blot on their career, the Quartet had a
phenomenal run. Between them they picked up 853 Test wickets and spun a
web around batsmen the world over for more than two decades.
It would, however, be clearly fallacious to assume that the
development of spin bowling in India was in a state of suspended animation
while the four great men worked their magic on batsmen. On the contrary,
the clear message from the top sent by Tiger Pataudi’s actions was the
greatest enabler and encouragement for spin bowlers across the country.
Anyone who bowled slowly and achieved a modicum of success in any
level of cricket dreamed of bowling alongside the Quartet. Anyone who
bowled faster than B.S. Chandrasekhar gave up their dreams of being a
Fred Trueman or Alan Davidson and instead reduced their run-up and
learned to tweak the ball. Those who could not learn the art either sought to
improve their batting or simply left the game.
This then was the Golden Age of spin bowling in India, when at the
domestic level significant talent was unearthed. But this talent would never
make the leap to international cricket. Bowlers who would have walked into
any international Test side on the basis of their skill and domestic
performances were fated to ply their trade for the entire duration of their
careers without ever wearing the elusive Indian Test cap.
Dilip Doshi, finally earning his cap at the age of thirty-two in 1979,
was lucky that his persistence and longevity enabled him to play Test
cricket and exhibit from the first day what the nation had missed by
ignoring his talent for so many years, but many others were not so lucky.
This chapter is a tribute to those spinners whose yeoman service to the
sport in the country have gone largely unrecognised beyond the confines of
the cricketing community for reasons that were not always related to their
talent or achievements at the domestic level.
One cannot but conclude that their omissions owed much to the
regionalism and the zonal power politics that accompanied Indian cricket
for over a century. This continued until Sourav Ganguly finally broke out of
the mould that had constricted previous Indian captains and selectors and
truly brought Indianness into the composition of the side, something which
Tiger Pataudi had attempted and only succeeded in doing to a degree.

Padmakar Shivalkar
Padmakar ‘Paddy’ Shivalkar became a cricketer by chance when he was a
young man and desperate to find a job to make ends meet. It had been three
long years of a fruitless search. With the quintessential sparkle in his eyes,
Paddy tells me about how he heard from a friend about office cricket teams
who would give you a job as long as you played for them. It seemed almost
too good to be true but he decided to try a hand at it, accompanying his
friend one day to the nets. Paddy, until then, had never held a cricket ball in
his hand, all his cricket so far being played with a tennis ball. The first two
balls he sent down with the unfamiliar hard cherry hit the net on either side
of the wicket. Then his friend advised him to bowl on the stumps and that’s
what he did with the third, knocking over the sticks with what he would
learn later was termed left-arm orthodox spin.
After he had bowled for a while, a man who had been observing him
seated on an arm chair, walked up to him and asked, ‘Do you want a job?’
A speechless Paddy just nodded. That man, Paddy’s friend told him later,
was Vinoo Mankad, a man who had helped many a talented cricketer take
their first steps in a tough world.
Mankad, a very accomplished left-arm spinner himself, got him a job
so Paddy could continue playing cricket but with one word of caution
—‘Don’t copy me. If you copy me, you will be finished.’75 Paddy
developed his own style and over the next twenty years became the best
spinner who never played for India.
Drafted into the CCI President’s XI at Brabourne stadium in March
1962 at the age of twenty-two against an International XI led by Richie
Benaud, Paddy earned instant recognition. Bowling alongside Baloo Gupte,
Paddy picked up 5 wickets in the first innings including that of Everton
Weekes, Raman Subba Row and Richie Benaud and two in the second of
Weekes and Tom Graveney. But not only did young Shivalkar’s dreams of
playing for India not materialise, he would have to wait several years before
he could even replace Bapu Nadkarni in the Bombay team.
In his years playing for Bombay, Paddy on countless occasions
bowled his side to victory, virtually by himself. But the occasion that made
the deepest impression on all those lucky enough to witness it was the final
of the Ranji Trophy played at Madras in 1973, a match that truly revealed
the depths of Paddy Shivalkar’s genius as a bowler.
The Bombay batting line-up boasted more than half the Indian Test
team. Sunil Gavaskar, Ajit Wadekar, Ashok Mankad (the son of the man
who gave Paddy his first break), Dilip Sardesai, Sudhir Nayak and Eknath
Solkar faced off against the Tamil Nadu spin twin of V.V. Kumar and
Srinivas Venkataraghavan on a Chepauk pitch tailored to favour the
twirlymen. Winning the toss and batting first, the much vaunted Bombay
batting line-up could only manage a modest 151 against Kumar and Venkat
who picked up 5 wickets each. Tamil Nadu began badly losing two wickets
with their score at 6 but Michael Dalvi and Abdul Jabbar took the score to
62 for 2 by the end of the first day’s play.
The next day, unusually, was a rest day. Paddy recounts a conversation
that he had with roommate Solkar that evening: ‘I told Ekkie that I had
noticed Venkat doing something unusual all day. Instead of bowling flat as
he normally did, he was flighting the ball and with the bounce off the
turning pitch and this was making it difficult for our batsmen to play him. I
was going to take a chance and do the same the next day. After all this was
Venkat’s home pitch and he must have clearly known this would work.’76
As Paddy came in to bowl on the second day of the match, his first
ball turned and bounced sharply. With Tamil Nadu only 2 wickets down, in
a very revealing comment that has now gone down in Indian cricketing lore,
the No. 11 batsman, V.V. Kumar, sitting in the pavilion, turned to
Kalayanasundaram, the No. 10 and said, ‘Change into whites. Both of us
will be batting within an hour.’ And they were.
Over the next hour, Paddy ran through the Tamil Nadu batting. By the
end of the carnage that ensued, only the overnight batsmen had reached
double figures. Tamil Nadu had been bowled out for 80 and Paddy’s figures
read 8 wickets for 16 runs.
The 71-run lead that Paddy gave Bombay would turn out to be crucial
as Bombay was bundled out a second time, this time for 113. Tamil Nadu
had to score only 185 to win but by producing the underprepared pitch, the
act had backfired spectacularly. The hosts played straight into the hands of
Shivalkar’s genius. This time Paddy and his roommate Solkar were the
wreckers-in-chief, picking up 5 wickets each, as Tamil Nadu collapsed to
61 all out.
In two unchanged spells of magnificent spin bowling, Paddy Shivalkar
had almost single-handedly brought home the Ranji Trophy with match
figures of 13 wickets for 34 runs. In the previous Ranji season, Paddy had
run through Mysore’s famed batting line-up consisting among others
Gundappa Vishwanath and Brijesh Patel in the semi-finals, returning
figures of 8 for 19 and 5 for 31.
In a first-class career spanning twenty-six years, from 1961-62 to
1987-88, Shivalkar would take 589 wickets at an incredible average of
19.69 and an economy rate a shade above 2.
Paddy has always been philosophical about his inability to make it
into the Indian side and continues to be passionate about the game as he
approaches 80. He is rarely to be found in anything other than in whites
during the day (at the launch of my previous book Spell-binding Spells he
shyly asked me if it was okay to come in his whites since he would not have
time to go home and change), passing on his wisdom to younger players.
His admirers have been less understanding.
It has often been pointed out that he lost out on a Test place to a
certain Bishan Bedi who took 1,560 first-class wickets. But that is not a
particularly convincing argument. Ajit Wadekar once said: ‘Had I been the
chairman of selectors, on most occasions I would have convinced the
captain to play both in the team depending on the nature of the pitch. If
Prasanna and Venkat could be in the team, why not Bedi and Paddy?’ This
is very true and in fact, after the Quartet retired, Doshi and Maninder played
together as did Doshi and Shastri and two off-spinners have operated in
tandem on many occasions. What is intriguing, however, is that when
Wadekar was captain of Indian in early 1970s he himself did not play Paddy
in the team alongside Bedi. He instead played Venkat.
Be that as it may, it is indeed India’s loss that Paddy Shivalkar’s talent
would never be displayed on the world stage.

Rajinder Goel
There are not too many cricketers around the world who have received
congratulatory messages on cricketing achievements from convicted
criminals lodged in a prison. It is testimony to the popularity and indeed the
magnitude of Rajinder Goel’s achievements that when he took his 600th
wicket in Ranji Trophy, among the many messages he received was a letter
from Gwalior Jail.
Opening the envelope with much trepidation, Goel was floored when
he read the congratulatory note from dreaded dacoit Bhukha Singh Yadav
who was lodged there: ‘Kindly accept my congratulation for grabbing more
than 600 wickets in the Ranji Trophy. I am your fan and I hope that with the
grace of God, you achieve more success in life.’
Notwithstanding the love and recognition from a doting fan base
across the country, the call-up note from the Indian selectors would sadly
continue to elude Rajinder Goel as he walked into the sunset. Seventeen
years of first-class cricket and 750 wickets to show for at an incredible
career average of 18.58, including 637 earned in Ranji Trophy, would not
be enough proof to the selectors of his claims to an Indian Test cap.
Many years later Goel would remark with a wry smile: ‘I have
preserved this three-decade-old letter. I was not liked by the selectors but
yes, a dacoit liked me.’
Born on 20 September 1942 to an assistant station master in Haryana,
Goel studied at the local Vaish High School and attended college at Rohtak.
At sixteen, he was declared best bowler at the all India schools tournament,
helping North Zone schools to clinch the trophy. He made his Ranji Trophy
debut for Patiala against Services in the 1958-59 season picking up one
wicket. In the next match, he took 9 of the 16 Delhi wickets to fall.
The first spectacular Goel performance would come in the next season
when he played for Southern Punjab against Northern Punjab. His team was
all out for 87 and at 35 for 2, when Goel was brought into the attack,
Southern Punjab looked set for a big lead. An hour or so later they were all
out for 54 and Goel had figures of 4-0-6-6.
In 1962-63, Rajinder Goel moved to Delhi to play under Tiger Pataudi
and his first faceoff against Bishan Bedi came when Delhi played Northern
Punjab at Ludhiana in the 1964-65 season. Goel picked up 10 wickets in the
match against Bedi’s 3 and Delhi won by an innings and 99 runs. In 1973-
74, Goel moved to Haryana and on his debut picked up 8 for 55 against
Railways which would remain his best figures. Goel continued to play for
Haryana until his retirement in 1985.
When Clive Lloyd’s West Indies toured India in 1974-75, Bedi was
dropped before the first Test at Bangalore on disciplinary grounds and
Rajinder Goel found himself in the squad alongside Chandrasekhar,
Prasanna and Venkataraghavan. Goel was told he was in the playing XI but
his name was not on the slip at the toss. Instead, Chandra, Venkat and
Prasanna played. The West Indies won by 267 runs. Goel’s left-arm spin
could perhaps have provided the variety that would have saved the Test
given the form he was in. Instead, Goel and Indian cricket suffered from the
politics that had always been the bane of Indian cricket. On the one hand
Bedi needed to be punished while on the other, the board could not take the
chance that a match-defining performance by Goel would keep Bedi out of
the side longer than that one match. This would be the closest Rajinder
Goel would come to playing for his country.
 When Bedi came back for the next Test and continuing the bizarre
series of events engineered by the selectors, it was at the expense of
Chandra (Venkat was included to captain the side when any one of several
senior players could have been given the job) who had dismissed Richards
for 4 and 3 at Bangalore. Richards would score 192, free of the danger of
his nemesis, leading his team to an innings victory.
The full effect of Goel’s displeasure was unleashed upon the hapless
batsmen in domestic cricket. He took 32 wickets that season at 21.56 and 43
the next season at 17.95. He was particularly brutal on Jammu and Kashmir
(J&K), a pattern that would repeat itself over his career.
In 1977-78, J&K were dismissed for 93 and 23 in the same match,
Goel picking up 13 wickets including 7 for 4 in the second innings. In the
next match against the same opponents, he took 10 wickets.
While the Indian cricketing fraternity has for long lamented the fact
that India never enjoyed the services of these two brilliant spinners,
Shivalkar and Goel have largely put a stoic face to their disappointment.
The hurt that undoubtedly simmered inside those stout hearts all these years
finally peeked through when BCCI honoured the two with the C.K. Nayudu
award in early 2017. It was, however, masked with the trademark smile
when Goel remarked: ‘Now I can understand how tough it must be for the
celebrated cricketers, being bombarded with non-stop phone calls.’
Ironically, it is the man whose genius was to a great extent responsible
for keeping the duo out of the national team, Bishan Bedi, who paid them
the ultimate tribute: ‘They had what makes a good spinner—technique and
temperament. I really used to revere them for these two qualities. They had
amazing patience too. They had in abundance the humility that marks a
great sportsman. To me, they have been two beautiful but unsung artists.
They never had any rivalry, no bitterness. I think it was a matter of getting a
break. I was fortunate to get one.’77

Sarkar Talwar
It is hardly surprising that as Venkat and Prasanna, despite their stellar
performances against teams around the world, fought for a single off-
spinner’s slot in the Indian team, other exponents of the art would be hard-
pressed to get a look in. The poignant title of former Hyderabad off-spinner
(and very talented journalist and writer in later life) V. Ramnarayan’s
excellent book Third Man, referring to his challenges in making it out of the
South Zone into the Indian squad behind Venkat and Prasanna despite his
own undeniable talent, says it all.
Sarkar Talwar of Haryana, who Ramnarayan fondly describes as ‘an
old war horse’, was just such an off-spinner who stuck it out in domestic
cricket for two decades between 1967 and 1988. He picked up 357 wickets
at an excellent average of 24.88, including 26 wickets in 3 matches against
Bombay, the toughest domestic team in India by a few miles and was never
put in front of a foreign batsman to test his mettle at the highest level.
Talwar, like his left-armed compatriot Goel, relished bowling against
Jammu and Kashmir picking up his best bowling figures of 7 for 32 in the
first innings followed by 4 for 62 in the second in a Ranji Trophy encounter
at the University Ground in Kurukshetra in 1973, scripting a 3-wicket
victory for Haryana. Despite being in the North Zone squad in 1973-74
against Sri Lanka and in 1987 against the West Indies, his two best years in
domestic cricket, he was left out of the XI on the morning of both matches.
Talwar retired in 1988 and has remained involved in coaching, the
fondest memory of this part of his career being of the time his wards—
Mohammed Kaif, Yuvraj Singh and Reetinder Singh Sodhi—brought back
the U-15 World Cup and also went on to play for the senior team.

V. Ramnarayan
It would be gross injustice not to mention Ramnarayan, an off-spinner of
quality. Every first-class and Test batsman I spoke to in the course of
writing this book mentioned Ramnarayan and how good a bowler he was.
Raju Mukherjee, former Bengal captain, called him ‘exceptional’.78 The
title of Ramnarayan’s autobiography, Third Man, says it all about his career,
the term a reference to his position in South Zone spin pecking order behind
Venkat and Prasanna.
Born in Tamil Nadu, Ramnarayan was a college contemporary of
Venkat, who at this time was already playing for India. With no scope of
breaking into the side, Ramnarayan moved to Hyderabad, making his Ranji
debut in 1975-76 against Kerala, picking up 6 for 33 in the first innings. A
week later it was 6 for 41 against Andhra and then 7 for 68 against Bombay
in the quarterfinal. Bombay won the match on the basis of the first-innings
lead, and went on to take the championship that year. With 28 wickets at
17.32, this was a dream debut season. He played only for four more
seasons, picking up 96 first-class wickets at 23.23 runs apiece. Shivlal
Yadav, his young fellow Hyderabad off-spinner, had just made his Test
debut and Ramnarayan wisely decided at the age of thirty-two that he
would be better served concentrating on his banking career with SBI.
Ramnarayan later became a much respected cricket writer—with his
exceptional insight into the game—and continues to pursue his passion of
Carnatic music, editing a monthly journal called Sruti and writing
exceptional articles and books, often blending his music narrative with
cricketing flavour. His insights shared with me in the course of writing this
book have been invaluable.

Syed Hyder Ali

Indian Railways has had a long tradition of supporting Indian sports, but
rarely have they boasted a slow left-arm bowler of the quality of Syed
Hyder Ali, their captain in the 1970s and ‘80s and Indian cricketer of the
year in 1974. Over the course of a twenty-five-year-long domestic career,
Ali played 113 first-class matches, picking up 366 wickets at 22.64 runs
apiece. His best bowling figures came, as was the case for a number of
quality spinners in India, against the weak Jammu and Kashmir in the 1969-
70 series. He ran through the side unchanged, opening the bowling on an
underprepared pitch showing a rich picking of 9 for 25 in 14 overs.
Given the arrival of Bishan Bedi, the omnipresence of Shivalkar and
Goel and later the advent of Dilip Doshi, Maninder Singh and Ravi Shastri,
the man from Railways was always unlikely to be a top-of-mind recall
when the selectors met to consider left-arm spin bowlers for India.
Nonetheless, when BCCI honoured Hyder Ali along with other Indian
domestic stalwarts in 2012 and put in place monetary benefits for the
veteran cricketers, it was some recompense for the unheralded war horses
of Indian domestic cricket that had missed their chance of shining on the
international stage.

Anand Shukla
A gifted leg-spinner and fine batsman, Anand Shukla was born in Kanpur
and played for Uttar Pradesh, Delhi and Bihar through his first-class career
spanning eighteen years from 1959-60 to 1977-78. Unfortunately, his career
span was coincidental with that of Bhagwat Chandrasekhar. In 98 first-class
matches Shukla bagged 386 wickets at an average of 21, including thirty-
one 5-wicket hauls and nine 10-wicket performances. In Ranji Trophy, his
313 wickets cost an even more miserly 18.98. His contribution with the bat
was not insignificant with 3,410 runs from 69 matches with a high score of
242 not out. Although these figures were impressive, they were sadly
earned at a time when it was all but inconceivable that there could be a
replacement for Chandra lurking in the wings. Anand’s brother Rakesh
Shukla, also a spinner of exceptional talent, was a tad luckier in that he at
least got to wear an India cap, albeit briefly.

Rajinder Singh Hans

With Bedi in the team, Shivalkar and Goel standing perennially on the
sidelines, and Dilip Doshi chaffing from the wait, one would have thought
India’s left-arm spin cupboard was already overflowing. But that would be
a gross injustice to Rajindersingh Kartarsingh Hans who was India’s
cricketer for the year in 1978.
For the first time in thirty-seven years, thanks in no small measure to
the excellent bowling of young Rajinder Hans, Uttar Pradesh found
themselves in the finals of Ranji Trophy in the 1977-78 season. Facing
them was mighty Karnataka, whose line-up boasted of six stalwarts of the
Indian team, the batting led by G.R. Vishwanath and the bowling in the able
hands of B.S. Chandrasekhar and Erapalli Prasanna. No one in the Uttar
Pradesh side had even been a probable for a Test series.
The result of the final went according to script, Karnataka beating the
minnows by an innings and 193 runs. Vishwanath scored a brilliant 247, his
highest in Ranji Trophy and Brijesh Patel chipped in with 100, taking
Karnataka to 434. Chandra then ran through the hapless UP batsmen
picking up 6 wickets in each innings. But what stood out from that match
was the bowling of Rajinder Hans. Sending down 55.4 overs in the
Karnataka innings, Hans picked up a rich haul of 9 for 152 including
Vishwanath as well as Roger Binny and Syed Kirmani, both high class
batsmen, trapped in front, unable to read his arm ball.
 In September 1979 when the era of the Spin Quartet officially ended
with the dropping of Bedi from the team (Prasanna and Chandra had been
dropped earlier), the fourteen-member team for the first Test against
Australia at Madras included two left-arm spinners, Dilip Doshi and
Rajinder Hans. Doshi made his debut and Hans sat out. It would be the
closest he would come to playing for India.
Over the course of a rewarding decade in first-class cricket, Hans
picked up 340 wickets from 78 matches at 22.40 apiece. He would have his
time in the sun in Ranji Trophy. What he failed to do with the ball despite
his 9 wickets as a young spinner Rajinder Hans achieved as a coach,
standing proudly by the side as he watched his Uttar Pradesh wards led by
captain Mohammad Kaif, by then an established middle-order batsman for
India, hold aloft the glittering trophy at Lucknow in 2006.
These men did everything within their power to showcase their
immense talent before the wider world. They put in some superlative
performances throughout their careers, but it was never enough to earn
them the ultimate prize, that one elusive chance to proudly wear their
country’s cap. Remembering their contributions, alongside India’s
acknowledged wizards of spin, will perhaps be some recompense for the
just rewards their impressive domestic careers deserved but were
unfortunately denied.
 Section 3
THE T DITION CONTINUES
 Dilip Doshi
Emerging from the Shadows of the Quartet

‘Although Doshi could turn the ball an appreciable distance in

responsive conditions, what left the strongest impression was how
long he could make it hang in the air, as though suspended in a
cobweb.’
—Gideon Haigh

The Spin Quartet in one way or the other was responsible for the non-
existent Test careers of the bowlers we spoke about in the previous chapter.
But one man who had the will, the determination, the ambition and the
patience to wait for over a decade while he was overlooked and continue
playing the game with enormous belief that he would one day wear the
Indian Test cap, was Dilip Rasiklal Doshi.
Finally, in 1979, when Bedi was dropped from the team after a series
of indifferent performances, Dilip Doshi, playing county cricket as he had
for many summers by then, got the call that he had been waiting for.
The wait had been long, for his domestic career had begun not long
after the Sardar of Spin. It had also taken the selectors more than three years
to give the call-up, even after that day in Guwahati in 1976 when Doshi had
taken 8 wickets and almost bowled East Zone to an elusive victory over the
all-conquering visiting England team led by Tony Greig.
That day the selectors had not bothered to show up in Guwahati to
watch the match since it was an accepted fact that no one would be picked
from the East Zone anyway. In a shocking reflection of the regional politics
in cricket administration at the time, national selector Raj Singh Dungarpur
had instead asked his friend Ken Barrington, the England manager, to make
an unofficial match report of the East Zone performance. Barrington would
mention this in an after-dinner speech at the conclusion of the match.
Years later when I spoke about this episode to Doshi and former India
and Bengal opening batsman, the late Gopal Bose who was also a part of
the match, they would shake their heads and ask me to imagine what impact
such a revelation could have on the morale of young up and coming
players. As Doshi put it in his hard-hitting autobiography Spin Punch, ‘How
heartbreaking for any young player dreaming of making the national side
one day. This is the classic case of putting blinkers on.’
Another point that has often been overlooked while eulogising the
Quartet is that in this period while there were significant Test victories at
home, given how the pitches favoured spin, the number of series wins are
less than can be rightfully expected. Yet, the entry barrier into the spin
space was insurmountable. The media was perhaps as responsible for this
being glossed over as the selectors themselves.
Such then were the challenges that the thirty-two-year-old Dilip Doshi
had to overcome to finally make his debut on a rather happier 9/11 day in
1979 against Australia at Madras. He would have the distinction of being
only the third spinner in seventeen years other than the Quartet to make his
Test debut for India. The other two, Narasimha Rao and Dhiraj Parsana, had
clearly been out of their depth at this level of the sport.
No one was more aware than Dilip Doshi that his debut had to be a
statement, a wakeup call to all those who had kept him out of the side for
over a decade for reasons that had arguably little to do with cricket, an
approach that he has always maintained ‘was unhealthy for Indian cricket
and promoted imperfect competition.’ He would not disappoint.

A Glorious Debut
It was in the summer of 1972 that Dilip Doshi had first come to England to
improve his skills as a bowler, wielding a letter of introduction from
Jamsaheb Shatrushalyasinhji of Jamnagar (a descendant of the famous
Ranji) introducing him as a budding Indian cricketer to the Sussex Cricket
Club where the Jamsaheb held the post of vice president. He was spotted by
Sir Garfield Sobers, then the captain of Nottinghamshire, the following year
while playing for Notts against Glamorgan in the Second XI
Championships having picked up 7 for 25. Doshi’s county career took off
when the West Indian great walked over to shake his hand and told him:
‘Son, you’re all right.’79 A few successful seasons with Notts and
Warwickshire followed.
Back in India, the Quartet were ruling the waves and while Doshi was
ready to play the long waiting game as he had done for more than a decade
now, at thirty-two, he was not getting younger. Then one day in September
1979, everything changed. Sitting down for a meal at home in England,
Doshi got a call from his brother in India telling him that his name had just
been announced in the fourteen-member squad for the first Test against
Australia at Madras. The long awaited break was here.
The back story on this is worth telling.80
As Venkataraghavan’s side attended their last tour dinner before
departing for India that summer, Sunil Gavaskar overheard a conversation
between Rohan Kanhai and the manager of the Indian team. The discussion
was on the future of Indian spin bowling and the search for successors to
the Quartet. Kanhai expressed his surprise that the search had thus far
ignored Doshi. ‘You have a readymade world class spinner in Dilip Doshi
who has been playing county cricket for years. He would walk into any
team in the world. Why look further?’
As the pilot on the flight home announced Venkat’s sacking and his
appointment as captain of India, Sunil Gavaskar’s mind was already made
up about his next recruit. The plan was put into action at the selection
committee meeting that followed his arrival.
Doshi recalls watching anxiously from behind the sight screen on the
first morning of the Test and hoping India would bowl first. His wish would
be granted. Walking on to the Chepauk turf, he remembers repeating the
mantra to himself: ‘Length and line.’81
Doshi was the fifth bowler tried by Sunil Gavaskar that morning
alongside Venkataraghavan but it would be the debutant who would deliver.
He got his first wicket almost immediately as Graeme Wood failed to
negotiate a quicker ball and was wrapped in front. Australia was 75 for 2
but would go back to the hut at the end of the day with the score at 240,
without losing any more of their batsmen. The next morning would,
however, belong to Doshi.
 Bowling a brilliant 20-over spell, he mesmerised the Australian
batsmen with his flight, guile and accuracy, picking up 5 wickets conceding
40 runs. When Australia was all out for 390, Doshi, in his first innings in
Test cricket, had 6 for 103 from 43 overs. He picked up two more victims in
the second innings as rain played spoilsport and the match ended in a draw.
Doshi’s 8-wicket haul on debut would remain an Indian record until
Narendra Hirwani shattered all landmarks with his sensational start a bit
more than a decade later.
The fifth Test match of the debut series against Australia was at the
Eden Gardens, Doshi’s home ground. Unsurprisingly, a 100,000 people
showed up to cheer the local boy. He did not disappoint. After a nervous
start on the first morning, he got into his rhythm and after tea found himself
on a hat-trick having dismissed Rick Darling and Kevin Wright, both
trapped in front of the stumps. Geoff Dymock and Rodney Hogg survived
briefly but Doshi’s guile was too much for the Aussie pacers to handle. He
ended with 4 for 92 and but for some defensive captaincy, India could have
won the match. If Gavaskar had sent Kapil Dev or Kirmani ahead of M.V.
Narasimha Rao with only 245 to get in the fourth innings, the result of the
match could have been different. The need of the hour was lusty hitting
instead of which Narasimha Rao faced 52 balls for his unbeaten 20 and
India finished 45 runs short with 6 wickets remaining.
In the final Test at Bombay, Doshi took 8 wickets as India won by an
innings and 100 runs to carve out a decisive series victory. He finished with
27 wickets in his debut series. It had been a long time in the making but
when the chance finally came, he had grabbed it with both hands. A new
wizard had arrived.

e Boy from Calcu a

Born in Rajkot and moving east with his father at a young age, Dilip Doshi
grew up a few houses away from me in Calcutta and honed his skills at
Northern Park where I played my first childhood ‘para’ cricket (loosely
‘para’ translates to ‘area’ but it is a very unique evocative part of Calcutta’s
ethos). In many ways Northern Park was not very different from Bombay’s
Shivaji Park in its seriousness about the game or the multiple matches that
went on simultaneously.
 Of all the boys who played at the park, Doshi stood out for his
seriousness and resolve from the very first day. He wanted to be the best;
nothing less would do and he was prepared to work for it. Unlike a lot of
young cricket hopefuls, he had a family business to fall back upon but for
Doshi that was not an option. Cricket was to be his life and he was to be the
best left-arm spinner that he could be.
Doshi was a very serious man even in his youth. In my last
conversation with Gopal Bose a few months before he passed on, Bose
smiled recalling the time his local teammates told Doshi they had just
spotted a very talented left-arm spinner who could be a rival (to Doshi)
operating on the ‘maidan’ opposite the Victoria Memorial in Calcutta.82
The next minute Doshi had rushed off to see this new rival. Once he
reached there (a distance of a couple of kilometres), he realised that his
friends had played a trick on him. But this was quintessential Doshi and it
was the single mindedness of purpose that would eventually be responsible
for his success.

Making Up for Lost Time

Almost before the Australians had boarded the long flight home, the
Pakistanis arrived for a 6-Test series. This was in reciprocation of the 1978
tour by India which had finished 2-0 in favour of Pakistan and ended the
careers of the Spin Quartet. There was a lot to fight for, not the least of
which was pride. On a personal note, Doshi was keen to prove that he was
the inheritor of the mantle of Indian spin sorcery against the very batsmen
—Zaheer Abbas, Javed Miandad, Majid Khan, Asif Iqbal, Wasim Raja—
who had destroyed his worthy predecessors.
Doshi writes in Spin Punch: ‘The Pakistanis expected to beat India
and carried themselves with the quiet confidence that goes with such
expectations. There was a touch of arrogance in their approach. They strode
the turf with the heavy tread of predestined winners.’
Zaheer Abbas had been the standout performer in the previous series,
annihilating Indian spin while scoring 538 runs in five innings. Doshi’s plan
was to nip this problem in the bud. He had analysed Zaheer’s approach and
knew exactly what he had to do. In the first Test at Bangalore, while all the
Pakistani batsmen scored runs and Imran claimed 4 for 53 in a drawn
encounter, it was Doshi who struck the fatal blow by getting Zaheer Abbas,
perhaps the foremost batsman of the time against spin bowling, stumped.
Zaheer would not recover from this and with successive cheap dismissals to
Kapil Dev and Roger Binny in the drawn Test that followed, he was a spent
force for the rest of the series. As Partab Ramchand writes, ‘It was Doshi
who had struck the all-important initial blow’.
Before the third Test at Bombay, Gavaskar decided to play some mind
games and let slip on national TV and on Bombay’s cocktail circuit that:
‘Doshi will win the match for us’.83 With 6 wickets in the match, Doshi
obliged. An excellent all-round performance put India unexpectedly ahead
in the series. In the fifth Test at Madras, India would put the seal on the
series taking a decisive 2-0 lead on the back of magnificent performances
from Gavaskar scoring 166 in the first innings and Kapil picking up eleven
victims, including 7 for 56 in the second innings.
When the series ended after the drawn sixth Test at Calcutta, Doshi
had 18 wickets to show for his efforts. After only his first home season, post
the one-off Test against England that followed, Doshi’s incredible haul of
46 wickets at 26.15 apiece had catapulted him into the position of the
leading left-arm spinner in the world. When the team to Australia was
announced there was, of course, little doubt that Doshi would make the trip.
When Doshi finished wicketless after the first Test, Gavaskar’s pre-
tour statement that ‘I do not think the Australians have played against high-
class spin bowling and Dilip Doshi is a high-class bowler,’ looked in danger
of being scoffed at. But with two successive dismissals of Greg Chappell,
an excellent player of spin bowling in the second Test at Adelaide, Doshi
was beginning to woo the critics.
Greg Chappell recalls: ‘Dilip got me out twice at Adelaide, a perfect
wicket to bat on and that showed his class. On his day he was in the highest
class of spinners because of his teasing flight and control. He wasn’t a big
turner of the ball, but then you only need to turn it an inch to miss the
middle of the bat. He didn’t bowl too many bad balls in that series and
never gave us room to cut him outside the off-stump or anything outside
leg.’
The difficult-to-please Bill ‘Tiger’ O’Reilly wrote about him in the
Sydney Morning Herald:
‘Doshi has been absolutely outstanding. Taking the new ball against
all percepts, he turned our top-line batsmen into timid postulancy as they
tried unsuccessfully to score runs quickly at a crucial stage. As I watched
Doshi tossing the ball high and aiming it with relentless accuracy at the
stumps on a position so close to the legendary “blind spot”, so the whole
futility of our present thinking on spin hit me clean amidships. What
superficial people we are when we think that breakneck speed, delivered
with all the logistic forethought required to blow down the local police
station, can ever hope to replace quickly the stirring lessons Doshi taught us
by example … that refined, thoughtful and brilliantly executed spin can
offer the game an exciting future.’
This is a clipping that Doshi treasures, as indeed he should, for this
was a stamp of approval like no other, from one of the foremost technicians
and purveyors of spin bowling who had studied the greatest spinners around
the world in a playing and journalistic career spanning seven decades. If
O’Reilly’s praise needed any confirmation, it came when Doshi bowled
Allan Border in the second innings at Adelaide. Richie Benaud described it
as ‘a dream delivery’.
Then came the famous Test match in Melbourne that would show the
true character of Dilip Doshi.
On the eve of the Test, he was hit on the first left toe off an inside edge
while batting against Victoria in a tour match. Barely able to walk, he went
to the hospital on his own where it was diagnosed as a fracture. Desperate
to play the Test match, he hid the nature of the injury from all but the
manager of the team, just seeking permission to go easy on practice. Each
day, the doctor came to his room to give electrode treatment. Roommate
T.E. Srinivasan was sworn to secrecy.
India batted first and scored 237. Changing his bowling action to
protect his fractured instep, in the absence of Kapil Dev who had torn a
thigh muscle early in the match, Dilip Doshi sent down 52 overs of high-
quality spin and picked up 3 crucial wickets as Australia put on 419 runs,
taking a crucial lead. From the other end, Shivlal Yadav, also with a toe
fractured by Len Pascoe while batting in the first innings, bowled 32 overs
bagging two victims. Many years later Anil Kumble, bowling with a
strapped jaw against Brian Lara would capture the nation’s imagination, but
the tale of Doshi and Yadav’s incredibly brave 84-over effort is oft-
forgotten.
But the team needed more in the same vein from Doshi. India scored
324 the second time, accompanied by the drama of Gavaskar trying
unsuccessfully to walk off the field in protest with partner Chetan Chauhan.
The intervention of the Indian manager averted a potential series-ending
situation. Australia was left to make 143 on a fourth-innings pitch. With
Kapil unable to take the field, Karsan Ghavri and Sandeep Patil opened the
bowling. An inspired Ghavri struck twice in succession sending back John
Dyson and Greg Chappell while Doshi had Graeme Wood stumped
brilliantly by Kirmani. Australia was 24 for 3 at the end of the fourth day.
On the fifth morning, perhaps drawing inspiration from the spinners
and frustrated by his inability to contribute in the match thus far, Kapil Dev
set aside the pain and discomfort of a torn muscle to join Doshi with the
ball. Kapil talks me through what happened:
‘For the first 6 overs I bowled well within myself, testing how my
thigh held up. Gavaskar was nervously watching. At the end of the sixth, he
came up to me to ask if I wanted to take a rest. I said, Sunny bhai, I am fine.
The last over went well and now I will start hitting the crack on the pitch. I
am going to pitch the ball a bit short so they go on the back foot to cut or
hook me which is very difficult on this pitch. I just want to keep Doug
Walters away from the strike and at my end of the pitch because he’s the
only one handling me well. None of the others can play forward to the short
one as he is doing. We will get the rest of them.’84
From the seventh over, Kapil was in full flow while Doshi kept the
unrelenting pressure on from the other end.
The two bowlers, one with a torn thigh muscle and the other with a
fractured instep, would bowl unchanged on that final day. There were only
two batsmen who could now make a difference, Kim Hughes and Allan
Border. Hughes was bowled by a rare Doshi arm ball and with Australia at
40 for 4, Allan Border was trapped in front of middle stump the very next
ball. Tony Greig and Keith Stackpole commentating for Channel Nine,
described him plumb leg before. Sadly, the only person to whom it was not
an obvious dismissal was the Australian umpire.
Border played on but not for long. Kapil Dev completed the honours,
bowling magnificently for his 5 for 28 as Australia collapsed to 83 all out,
leaving India victorious. Doug Walters remained at the non-strikers end for
much of the innings, managing 18 from 60 deliveries, frustrated in his
inability to take his country home.
The series had been drawn, a happy result for a nation that had never
won a series down under.
A er the Heroics Come the Problems
Even before the champagne had been downed, Doshi had to tell the captain
he would not be available for the Test match against New Zealand that
followed immediately. Gavaskar was justly furious that the nature of the
injury had been hidden from him and curtly asked: ‘Where’s the X-ray?’
The doctor handed it over with the remark: ‘Doshi had no business walking
around, leave alone playing cricket.’
Journalist Tom Prior of The Sun wrote: ‘Doshi, the spectacled
commerce graduate, played the entire Test with a painful spiral fracture of
the first toe of his left foot. He needed constant treatment and at night after
play could scarcely walk. He did not take a spell at any time during the Test
and bowled unchanged yesterday (the final morning). Why? A win and the
reclamation of India’s pride was that important, that’s why.’
At the press conference, Gavaskar praised Yadav and Kapil’s bravery
in continuing through pain to get India the victory. Asked by a journalist:
‘What about Doshi?’ Gavaskar answered: ‘What about Doshi?’ Doshi’s
problems with his captain who had given him his break into Test cricket had
started.
As the team landed in New Zealand and prepared for the first Test,
joining them was young Ravi Shastri who was sent out to replace Doshi
while he was in rehabilitation for a few weeks. Experienced Rajinder Goel,
the replacement preferred by the manager Shahid Durrani, would miss his
last chance at a Test cap. Gavaskar had overruled Durrani’s choice in favour
of his young Bombay teammate. It would turn out to be an inspired choice
as Shastri embraced the opportunity and picked up 3 wickets in each
innings. The 1-0 lead that New Zealand took from their victory in this Test
would be enough for them to claim the series. In the drawn third Test, Doshi
made a comeback, bowling an incredible 69 overs in the first innings,
keeping the Kiwis tied up to take 2 for 79. He took two more in the second
innings to take his tally to 62 wickets in his first 16 Tests.
When England came to visit in 1981-82, the rift between Gavaskar
and Doshi was still apparent as Gavaskar let it be known that he considered
Yadav and Shastri to be the future of Indian spin. But Doshi had other
plans. In the England second innings of the first Test at Bombay, Gavaskar
threw the ball to Doshi with the visitors at 105 for 3. In an inspired spell,
Doshi dismissed Keith Fletcher, Chris Tavare, Ian Botham and John
Emburey while Shastri got Graham Dilley. England collapsed to 147 for 8
and eventually 166 all out in response to India’s 179. Doshi had figures of 5
for 39 from his 29 overs, his last 10 overs yielding 5 for 12.
The failings of the English batsmen were glossed over by the English
press, the blame being directed for the collapse at two of India’s most
competent umpires, K.B. Ramaswami and Swaroop Kishen, labelling them
the ‘butchers of Bombay’.
An insight from Chinmoy Jena, a left-handed batsman who played
first-class cricket for Odisha and often faced up to Doshi perhaps provides
perspective absolving the umpires of blame for England’s collapse: ‘He
(Doshi) bowled a nagging length and it was almost suicidal to hit him out of
the attack as his length got the better of most. He troubled the right-handed
batsmen the most with the ball turning away from them. He was a vital cog
in the attack.’85
In a second demonstration of their inability to cope with the bowling,
England collapsed for 102 in their second innings, this time to the pace of
Kapil Dev and accuracy of Madan Lal. India was up 1-0 and this is how the
series would end as Gavaskar decided to err on the side of caution in the
next two Tests at Bangalore and Delhi, instructing his bowlers to slow down
the over rate taking as much time as they could between overs while his
batsmen stayed at the crease as long as possible on absolutely flat decks.
While the fourth Test at Calcutta almost had a result but for bad light on the
fifth day, the last two Tests followed a familiar defensive pattern.
When the series ended, Doshi had 22 wickets at 21.27 runs apiece and
walked away with the ‘bowler of the series’ award, a fitting response to his
captain’s scepticism at the start of the series.

A Career Cut Short

The summer of 1982 in England is justly remembered as the battle of all
rounders as Kapil Dev and Ian Botham came up against each other. Botham
piled up 403 runs and Kapil 292, but the latter walked away with the ‘player
of the series’ award for his all-round performance. It was, however, Dilip
Doshi who was the highest Indian wicket taker with thirteen victims. India
lost the series 0-1, a result that mirrored the English team’s result on their
previous tour of India. Doshi’s tally was now 97 wickets from 27 Tests.
 Sadly, this would be the last memorable series for Dilip Doshi. Back
home against minnows Sri Lanka on completely unresponsive pitches
which seemed to have become the norm in this phase of Indian cricket
(perhaps driven by the defensiveness of the men in charge of the game at
the time) Doshi managed only 8 wickets at 29 runs apiece. He ended the
series with 105 wickets and still the leading spinner in the side.
But it would soon be apparent that his age was to be held against him,
regardless of what he did. Despite the presence of two left-arm spinners,
Doshi and Shastri, eighteen-year-old Maninder Singh was introduced into
the mix when the team was chosen for the series in Pakistan.
The eventual fate of the spinners was not very different from the last
tour there, though Doshi’s 8 wickets at an average of 61 compared
favourably in the end with those of his predecessors who formed the
Quartet on their last tour abroad to the same shores. As importantly,
Maninder’s haul was a meagre 3 for 148 and Shastri’s 1 for 176. Despite
that, after 16 successive Tests when he had three 5-wicket hauls and one 6-
wicket haul, Doshi was dropped for the last two Tests with no explanation.
The writing was on the wall.
When Kapil Dev took over as captain in 1983, Doshi thought things
would get better. This time against Pakistan at home, he found himself
bowling alongside veteran Venkataraghavan in the first Test. But neither the
captain nor the manager, Bishan Bedi, (who had reportedly already told
Doshi before the match that he was lucky to be recalled and should earn his
place with a 5-wicket haul) were happy with his 1-wicket haul and dropped
him for the second Test. The praise from another member of the Quartet,
Erapalli Prasanna, writing in Sportsweek—‘Doshi was by far the best
bowler in the match’—fell on deaf ears. That would be the last time Dilip
Doshi would wear the Indian cap.

e Last of the Technicians

Dilip Doshi was the last of India’s great spin generation of the ‘60s and ‘70s
to make his mark in international cricket. His career may have been short
but in that time he stamped his class in no small measure. And a large part
of his success came from the very foundations that Prasanna and Bedi
described to me as the secrets of their success—technical superiority and
deep understanding of their craft.
 What he told me about the art of spin bowling is something every
young spinner should be listening to: ‘It is very difficult to bowl tight to
really good players on a good pitch. It’s one of the toughest things to do. In
dealing with this challenge, spinners make the cardinal mistake of
abandoning or putting aside their stock delivery. They are confused about
what variation is.’86
He explained: ‘When you look at the bowler’s arm from the side, each
delivery will have a different arc. That is the variation. The ball will be
pitching at different spots keeping the batsman guessing. The variation is in
the flight, variation is in the length, variation is in the revolutions, variation
is in the thinking—which angle you employ. Variation is not in changing
your basic delivery. Variation is not in an off-spinner bowling leg-spin.
Human beings have muscle memory and for this muscle memory to be well
used, the variations must mainly be around the stock ball. The stock ball is
like the foundation of the building. If it is strong, it’s easy to build the
higher floors. It’s only the control over the stock ball that gives you the
confidence to try other things. I have spent many hours discussing and
learning the art of spin from Richie Benaud and Jim Laker and both were of
the opinion that 98 per cent of all deliveries from a spinner need to be the
stock ball.’
A criticism of Doshi during his playing days was that he rarely bowled
the arm ball. He maintains that he didn’t feel the need as he had the
variations that he needed to take wickets and often the wind and the pitch
added to the variation by making the ball do things the bowler did not
intend.
Doshi explained: ‘When you bowl a ball, the wind could change the
seam and it will land differently. So variations are caused in the air as well.
The ball may land on a spot of grass and skid through. That’s a natural
variation you have no control over. No bowler can say that he can control
every ball. I don’t buy that. A great bowler can control 80 per cent of his
deliveries, not more.’87
Bishan Bedi concurs this is the case, citing the example of the arm ball
he once bowled to Ian Chappell batting on 99. Chappell read it correctly
from the hand but the ball turned the other way after pitching and took the
edge to the wicketkeeper.
Kapil Dev told me about Doshi: ‘He had that rare ability to keep the
ball in the air. He used to unusually toss up the ball from his third finger and
make it hang in the air. I have never seen a spinner who bowled with the
third finger. You learn from each cricketer. When the pressure was on the
batting side he was a great bowler, a terror. If you tried to block him he
would win the battle. If you went after him, given his years of county
experience, he would bowl more conservatively and then the chances of
taking wickets would be a bit less. He had a late start and a short career but
an incredible haul of over 100 wickets in that period. His English county
experience certainly helped him make an impact in Test cricket. Dilip Doshi
was not a great athlete but a great thinking cricketer.’ 88
But the one line that sums up Doshi’s attitude and dedication to his
craft beyond the technical aspect is when he tells me: ‘If you are not hungry
for excellence then you will not get there.’89 This is a lesson modern
spinners would do well to absorb.

A Short But Impactful Career

Dilip Doshi made his debut at the age of thirty-two and played his last Test
when he was thirty-six. Over a decade in the shadows of the Quartet
followed by four years in the sun seems a travesty for his talent and
dedication. While the plain-speaking Doshi has never been reticent about
his unhappiness at a career he believes was unjustly cut short, he rightfully
takes immense pride in what he achieved in that short time.
Dilip Vengsarkar, a man who played alongside Doshi throughout his
(Doshi’s) short career, is full of admiration for his craft: ‘Dilip Doshi was
an outstanding bowler. He was very spot on, accurate, a mean bowler who
gave nothing away, attacking all the time. He made his debut at the age of
thirty-two and in four years he took 100 wickets, which was an
unbelievable performance. He relentlessly tied down the batsman and made
them commit mistakes. On helpful wickets, he was even more
dangerous.’90
It is an oft-repeated statement that Indian spinners are effective at
home because the pitches favour them. It is indubitably true that Indian
pitches help the spinners and this has always been so, in the same manner
that Australian and South African pitches favour pacers, English pitches
and conditions favour swing bowlers. But favourable conditions are not
enough to ensure great performances and consistent victories. If that were
the case, the great Shane Warne and Muralitharan would not have the
embarrassing records that they do in India.
It is in this context that Doshi’s record is worth taking a closer look at.
Doshi picked up 114 wickets from the 33 Tests that he played during his
four-year career at an average of 30.71. That is only slightly worse than that
of the Quartet or his successors like Ravichandran Ashwin, Anil Kumble
and Harbhajan Singh, all of whom had far longer runs and hence the luxury
of time to hone their craft against the best. But it is when you look a bit
closer at the numbers that you see something special.
In India, Doshi has the second-best bowling average among all major
spinners who have played for the country. Delving deeper, his 77 home
wickets at 25.39 came not against any minnows but against the best batting
sides in the world of the time, Australia, Pakistan and England. Doshi also
picked up a wicket every 73 balls on Indian pitches compared to Bishan
Bedi who bagged one every 89 deliveries.
With 114 wickets from 33 Test matches at 30.71 runs apiece and a
wicket every 82 deliveries in a career perhaps unreasonably cut short, Dilip
Doshi’s ambitions and passion may have been far from sated. There is no
doubt that he did enough to ensure that he remains one of the most admired
spinners of his time and enters the list of great Indian Spin Wizards very
near the top.
 Shivlal Yadav

‘Rodney Marsh was shouting from behind that he was going to keep
coming down. I didn’t understand what he meant. Lenny (Pascoe)
started hitting me on the top first. He started with my helmet, then
shoulder, forearm, ribs, thigh, then the yorker on the toe. Then I
understood what Rodney meant.’
—Shivlal Yadav on his cracked toe at MCG in 1981

The debacle in Pakistan in 1978 that brought an end to the career of the
greatest spin attack the cricketing world had ever seen was also an
opportunity for the talented tweakers who had been waiting in the wings to
finally get to dance on the big stage. While Doshi was the obvious
replacement for Bedi, it seemed entirely fortuitous at the time for Indian
cricket that an off-spinner as capable as Shivlal Nandlal Yadav of
Hyderabad was available to take over the slot vacated by the nigh
irreplaceable Erapalli Prasanna.
When twenty-two-year-old Shivlal Yadav was picked up from the
obscurity of a young and less-than-stellar domestic career, it was at best an
experiment in the safe environment of a home series against Australia, a
team with a reputation for being suspect against good off-spin bowling.
With 4 for 49 in the first innings of his debut Test and all 3 second-innings
wickets for 32, suddenly the decision of the selectors appeared inspired.
With Doshi having just taken 8 wickets on his debut, the mourning over the
demise of the Spin Quartet seemed a tad premature.
India’s cup of joy, now full, would run over in the next Test when
Yadav took another 6 wickets at Kanpur to help India earn a 153-run
victory. He picked 24 wickets by the end of that series and bowled the
maximum number of overs after Dilip Doshi, despite missing the first Test
at Madras. In fact, Doshi’s 27 wickets at 23.33 apiece and Yadav’s 24 at
24.00 were better as a combination than anything that Bedi and Prasanna
had put together in their first five series as a duo. The successors had
arrived. Or so the Indian selectors and fans assumed.
In the meantime, Venkat was feeling the pressure. Having heard of his
exit as captain via an in-flight announcement on the way back from
England three weeks earlier, he was dropped after picking 1 wicket each in
two Tests as Yadav bagged 13. Dilip Doshi would sympathise in his book
Spin Punch when he wrote: ‘Psychology plays a key role in the area of
effective bowling. I fully sympathised with Venkat, as I thought he was still
a high-class bowler.’
As successful as Yadav had been against Australia, he would be found
severely tested by the Pakistan batsmen who arrived on Indian shores right
after, 8 wickets in 5 Test matches being scarce recompense for his efforts.
At this stage of his career, Yadav had a predictable middle and leg line and
merely the drift was not going to help him withstand the assault of the
vastly superior abilities of the Pakistanis to handle spin. He was dropped for
the last Test at Madras.
A year later when the tour of Australia came around, given his success
at home against the Aussies, Yadav was in the squad. Bowling alongside the
wily Doshi in the second Test at Adelaide, Yadav picked up 6 wickets, he
and Doshi together bagging 12 of the 16 Australian wickets to fall. The
match was drawn. And then the teams came to Melbourne for what would
be one of the most remarkable matches in the history of Indian cricket.
While we spoke about this match in the last chapter from Doshi’s
perspective, its worth recounting Yadav’s role in the win.
Gundappa Vishwanath had been on a slump on the tour and in his
frustration, was being less than abstemious. It needed a word from Sir
Garry Sobers, who lived in Melbourne then, to wake Vishy up to the vicious
cycle he was in. Dilip Doshi recalls in Spin Punch that Sobers advised
Vishwanath to concentrate on playing straight and not play any shots square
of the wickets till he crossed 40 runs.’ Another teammate of Vishy on the
tour recalls that this advice was accompanied by a suggestion from Sir
Garry that Vishy lay off a liquid diet until the Test series ended.
 Whatever be the truth of the matter, the Melbourne Test would witness
a different Vishy. As the rest of the Indian batting fell apart under the
onslaught of Lennie Pascoe and Dennis Lillee, Vishy batted like he was
facing a different set of bowlers in a parallel universe. Thanks to support
from the ever dependable Syed Kirmani, he took India to 164 before
Kirmani edged one to Rod Marsh behind the stumps. When Ghavri
departed with the score at 190, Shivlal Yadav walked in. India had been 5
down for 99 and yet here they were at 190 and the tail still wagging. Lennie
Pascoe had had enough.
As Yadav took guard, he heard an exchange between the bowler and
the wicketkeeper. Yadav recalls: ‘Rodney Marsh was shouting from behind
that he was going to keep coming down. I didn’t understand what he meant.
Lenny (Pascoe) started hitting me on the top first. He started with my
helmet, then shoulder, forearm, ribs, thigh, then the yorker on the toe. Then
I understood what Rodney meant.’ Yadav didn’t know it then but Pascoe
had shattered his toe bone.
Yadav’s partner Doshi was playing with a fractured left instep, an
injury suffered in the previous first-class match against Victoria. Kapil Dev
bowled just 19 overs before leaving the field with a torn thigh muscle and
did not return to the field that innings. The two spinners with painful broken
toes then got together to bowl a mind numbing 84 overs between them.
Doshi sent down 52 and Yadav accounted for 32, picking up 5 wickets
between them in the Australian reply of 419 to India’s 237. India scored
324 on the back of two brilliant innings of 85 from Chauhan and 70 from
Gavaskar at the top of the order. An inspired Kapil Dev set aside his
discomfort, came in second change and bowled with a vengeance, picking
up 5 for 28, running through first Allan Border and then the lower order
after Doshi and Karsan Ghavri had Australia on the ropes at 40 for 4.
Australia was all out for 83 and India had a memorable victory by 59 runs.

e Slump and the Peak

The two Tests that he missed after Melbourne because of the broken toe
affected Yadav’s rhythm and his performance dropped off. Indifferent
performances followed in the few Tests he was picked for. Doshi and
Shastri now bore the burden of spin with young Maninder Singh thrown
into the deep end of the pool and veteran Venkataraghavan putting in a few
appearances.
The next time Yadav would be truly in his elements was five years
later back down under in the Aussie summer of 1985-86. Picked more for
his success on the previous tour than any compelling recent form, Yadav
came up with the performance of his career. Bowling alongside a largely
ineffective Laxman Sivaramakrishnan, Yadav stepped up to be counted and
picked up 6 wickets in the second Test at Melbourne sending down 66.4
overs in the match.
At Sydney in the final Test, the match was seemingly headed for a
tame draw with Australia at 369 for 5 on the final morning in reply to
India’s 600 for 4 declared. Ravi Shastri had just dismissed Allan Border. In
the course of the next thirty minutes or so, Yadav ran through the
Australians. Picking up 4 wickets in quick succession including that of
Steve Waugh while Shastri picked up 1, Yadav single-handedly forced the
Aussies into a follow-on situation. His final figures read 62.3-21-99-5.
He then followed up in the second innings with a remarkable spell of
33 overs, opening the bowling alongside Kapil Dev and picking up 3
wickets for 19 runs. In the end, the Indians ran out of time and the
Australians escaped with a draw, ending the day at 119 for 6. It is worth
repeating his match figures in the context that typically off-spinners have
been less than successful on Australian pitches: 95.3-43-118-8, a truly
remarkable performance.
One would have thought that with Yadav in this form, when India
visited England that summer, would be a certainty in the side. Unfortunately
given the early summer setting and seaming wickets, Kapil Dev chose to go
with his medium pacers and young Maninder Singh as the sole spinner in
the Tests with Shastri as the backup. The fact that this turned out to be the
short peak of Maninder’s career, forced Yadav to hold back his
disappointment at the decision and be satisfied with his 15 wickets on the
tour from the first-class and other matches he did get to play.
The reluctance to play Yadav is reflected in Kapil’s opinion of him as
a bowler when I ask for his view: ‘Certain cricketers come out to play but
don’t have a bigger thought process in mind. Today’s cricketers come out
believing that they want to become the best in the world. Yadav had the art
but he did not have that ambition. I always say that South Indians are the
most talented cricketers but they are not hard working. Shiv I thought was
somewhere missing that hard work, although talent wise there was no
shortage.’91
Back home later that year, Yadav faced the Australians again. He
picked up 4 of the 6 wickets to fall in the Australian first innings at Madras
before Maninder gained notoriety for his dismissal that resulted in the
second-ever tied Test in history. Against Sri Lanka in the series that
followed Yadav had 11 wickets in two Tests at 13.63, heading the bowling
averages.
A month later the Pakistanis came to India for a series. In spite of his
recent performances, this would turn out to be Yadav’s last series. He
picked up his 100th wicket in the fourth Test at Ahmedabad after a couple
of humdrum performances in the first two tests against the rampaging
batsmen. A man used to untiringly bowling long spells, Yadav was
unfortunately severely under-bowled by Kapil Dev in favour of an out-of-
form Maninder on a turning track in Bangalore in the last Test. It would
indeed prove to be the last time Yadav would don the Indian cap and he
would bow out of the side after the Test alongside India’s greatest opening
batsman, Sunil Gavaskar.
At the end of that series Shivlal Yadav’s 35-Test career had yielded
102 wickets at an average of 35.09. Coming into the side to fill the
impossibly large shoes of Erapalli Prasanna, it was inevitable that whatever
Yadav did in his career, he would fall short of lofty expectations. But
bowling remarkably long spells, acutely aware of his limitations and
exploiting the gifts that he had been given, Yadav in a career spanning eight
years at a crucial time when Indian spin was trying to find its next wizards,
put in some remarkable performances. He was particularly good against
Australia who contributed 55 of his 102 victims at more than 4 wickets per
Test, both at home and abroad, performances that Indian fans will
remember for a very long time.
Indeed, the true impact that Yadav had on Indian cricket is perhaps
difficult to gauge until one remembers that it would be close to two decades
until another off-spinner in the form of Harbhajan Singh would surpass his
haul of Test wickets.

Contribution and Controversies A er Retirement

After retirement, Shivlal had two stints as a national selector, the first one
from 1996 to 1999 when he famously sacked Mohammad Azharuddin as
captain, replacing him with Sachin Tendulkar and from 2001 to 2002 when
the Indian team was recovering after the match-fixing scandal. From 2000-
2009, he was the secretary of Hyderabad Cricket Association. His burning
ambition was to build a modern cricket stadium in Hyderabad, which he
achieved, making it a new Test venue.
It is a pity that his closeness to N. Srinivasan brought various
allegations his way about financial dealings and the presence of his son in
the Hyderabad team and his brother Rajesh as the coach added to his quota
of controversies as an administrator. But for those distractions, Yadav’s
yeoman service to Indian cricket would perhaps be better appreciated.
 Ravi Shastri
Punching Above His Weight

‘When the moment is important, Ravi Shastri is the last one to back
away. So if you are asking if my hat is in the ring, it is in there.
Maybe three hats.’
—Ravi Shastri, on his interest in becoming India’s next coach

The story of Ravishankar Jayadritha Shastri is one that should inspire any
youngster who wishes to succeed in life.
All of us are born with unlimited aspirations but limited abilities with
which to achieve them, and the most we can hope for is to be the best that
we can. Then there are the phenomenally talented who make their mark just
because they are better than everyone else in some respect or the other and
their abilities lift them above the ordinary. And then there is that rare third
breed, those born without phenomenal talent but with the drive,
determination, mental toughness and ability to work extraordinarily hard to
perform at par with the best, and sometimes outshine them. There is no
better example in the history of Indian cricket of this third breed than Ravi
Shastri.
Kapil Dev is brutally honest when he tells me: ‘Ravi was probably the
least talented cricketer to play for India. This is not to put him down and
others have said this before. He had less talent in batting and bowling than
others but he had what other cricketers didn’t have—he would never give
up. He was more determined and more dedicated than a lot of talented
people who played for India. If Ravi had had the talent of a Bishan Singh
Bedi or a Sivaramakrishnan, he would have been a thousand times better
than any other spinner. But given his limitations, with his dedication and
determination, he performed thousand times better than anyone else could
ever have. The whole country can say “hai hai” but he will never give up.
That shows the real character of a cricketer.’*

‘Champion of Champions’ Melbourne 1985

If the ‘70s saw the emergence of India as contenders in the Test arena, the
‘80s was to be the defining decade for the future of Indian cricket. It is
impossible to separate the current success of India as a top cricketing nation
from the picture of a delighted Kapil Dev holding aloft the Prudential World
Cup at the Lord’s balcony in 1983.
No less iconic is the photo of an Audi being driven around the MCG
in 1985, weighed down by all sixteen members of the Indian team waving
triumphantly at a delirious (largely) Indian crowd, having just defeated arch
rivals Pakistan in the finals of the World Championship of Cricket
organised as a celebration of the 150th year of the formation of the state of
Victoria in Australia. Sitting proudly at the wheel is the ‘champion of
champions’, Ravi Shastri.
That moment would define the contribution of Ravi Shastri to Indian
cricket: 182 runs with the bat and 8 wickets with his left-arm orthodox spin,
were responsible for the Man-of-the-Series award. The performance of all-
rounders was by now clearly central to success in the ODI format. If the
1983 World Cup had belonged to Kapil Dev, the 1985 WCC was clearly
Shastri’s.

Shastri the Spinner

Ravi Shastri as a spinner was much closer to a Bapu Nadkarni than a
Bishan Bedi or a Dilip Doshi—flat and metronomic in his accuracy. The
closest modern comparison to Shastri would be Ravindra Jadeja, pegging
away at the batsman with mind-numbing accuracy on unhelpful pitches,
waiting for a mistake and largely unplayable on turning tracks. With his
6’3” height, changing the angles intelligently and getting bounce off the
pitch, Shastri marshalled his limited abilities to produce remarkable success
with the ball.
Flown into Wellington on the eve of the first Test match in 1981 as a
last-minute replacement for an injured Dilip Doshi in what was largely seen
as a move by the Bombay lobby to induct yet another of their own in the
team (the manager of the team Shahid Durrani had asked for Rajinder
Goel), Shastri would prove he was ready for the big stage.
His first over in Test cricket was a maiden to the New Zealand captain,
Geoff Howarth. In the second innings, he took 3 wickets in 4 balls, all to
catches by Dilip Vengsarkar, as New Zealand was bowled out for 100.
Shastri finished with figures of 3 for 9 from 3 overs to add to the 3 in the
first innings. Nonetheless, New Zealand won the Test by 62 runs. In the
third Test, his 7 wickets won him the Man-of-the-Match award, while his 15
wickets in the series were the highest for either side.
At Bangalore in a Test match against England a couple of months
later, bowling alongside Dilip Doshi, Shastri picked up 5 wickets—
including 4 in the first innings—putting in an untiring 43 overs. There
would be other good spells over the next few years but by now Shastri the
batsman had begun to take over from Shastri the bowler, as he moved up
the batting order from No. 10 to the opening slot and everywhere in
between as per the demands of the team.
For his peak performance as a Test bowler, 1985 would again be the
year and Australia the venue. At the MCG that year Shastri led the way in
the first innings picking up 4 crucial wickets as Shivlal Yadav took 3,
dismissing Australia for 262. He then scored 49 and helped India pile up
445 in response. In the second innings, he took another 4 as Australia made
308 on the back of some dour rear guard action by Allan Border who took
almost seven hours to score 163 and was the last man out.
With only 126 runs to score for a well-deserved Indian victory, in that
morning’s Sydney Morning Herald, Bill O’Reilly asked whether Australia
needed to search the world for someone they could beat: ‘I wonder what the
Eskimos are doing next summer?’. India could sadly only make 59 for 2 in
the 25 overs that were possible before the match was ended by rain and the
Eskimos were spared a long trip down under.
In Sydney a few days later, Shastri was not required to bat as India
piled up 600 for 4 declared with Gavaskar, Srikkanth and Mohinder
Amarnath all scoring centuries. But he was once again instrumental along
with Yadav in dismissing Australia for 396 picking up 4 wickets. Following
on, Australia reached 119 for 6 and saved the match by the skin of their
teeth, Shastri and Yadav picking up all 5 wickets that fell to bowlers.
Over the course of his career, Shastri picked up 280 international
wickets playing 80 Tests and 150 ODIs between 1981 and 1992. Bowling
long spells when required, chipping in with wickets and stemming runs as a
change bowler when the team needed it, Shastri was always the captain’s
bowler, ready for a challenge, and as Syed Kirmani would say, ‘always
wanting to be the best in the team in whatever he did’. 92

Beyond Spin
It would be a travesty if Shastri’s contribution was looked at only in terms
of his record as a spin bowler, for within a year of coming into the team, he
was establishing himself as an all-rounder of quality alongside Kapil Dev.
Wisden wrote about him a couple of years after his debut: ‘His calm,
sensible batting lower in the order raised promise of his developing into a
useful all-rounder, and his fielding too was an asset.’ They were not wrong.
By the time Shastri laid down his bat, of batsmen who have played 10 Test
innings against Australia, only Eddie Paynter averaged more than Shastri’s
77.75.
Grit and determination were the overriding characters that made up
Ravi Shastri. Less than two years on from his debut, Shastri found himself
opening the batting against England at the Oval in 1982 after Pranab Roy
and Ghulam Parkar had both been tried and failed. He scored 66. As Partab
Ramchand points out, ‘Shastri might not have cut a dashing figure on the
field as he pushed and prodded and grafted his way for runs, (but) no one
could deny his immense value to the side, his commitment to the team’s
cause and his consistency had to be admired. He very rarely let the country
down and was an excellent utility cricketer.’
Forced to open for the second time in his career in the final Test
against Pakistan at Karachi later that year (he was injured at the start of the
tour and could not play before), he scored a gritty century against Imran
Khan at his fearsome peak.
Shastri recalls what transpired then: ‘I had five stitches on my
webbing. I had not held a bat for almost three weeks. Sunny (Gavaskar)
came and asked me, “How’s that webbing doing, when are the stitches
coming off?” I said, “Tomorrow.” He said, “Then I’d like you to play, and
I’d like you to open with me.” His words sent an electric current through
me. Here was my captain and one of the greatest batsmen of all time
showing so much faith in my ability. Pakistan had bowlers like Imran,
Sarfraz (Nawaz), (Abdul) Qadir. It really picked me up and made me think,
”Wow, this is a real challenge.” We had, of course, already lost the series by
then. I told myself if I can get 40 or 50 and prove myself, it might help my
confidence. Well, that 128 changed my career.’
He then got his second century against the West Indies at Antigua. In
late 1984, he continued his good form with the bat against Pakistan saving
India from defeat in Lahore with batting alongside Amarnath, then scoring
139 at Faisalabad. With almost 7,000 runs in his international career
including 15 centuries (11 in Tests and 4 in ODI), and a Test average of
35.79, Shastri can well be said to have favourably followed in the footsteps
of Vinoo Mankad as India’s second left-arm spinning all-rounder.
It is a pity that despite his sharp analytical mind and never-say-die
attitude, India were deprived of the services of Shastri the captain. He was
the perennial captain-in-waiting while his colleagues had the honour of
leading their country. In the only Test that he captained (by default) against
the West Indies in 1987-88, he picked Narendra Hirwani to make his debut
against the world’s leading side. India not only won the Test match under
his leadership but Shastri must also be given due credit for handling the
prodigious young leg-spinner adroitly on a turning track that enabled him to
pick up a phenomenal 16 wickets on debut. Sadly, his indifferent form and
the fact that his off-field activities and attitude on and off it was not always
appreciated by the powers that be, meant that he never captained India
again.
In his forthright manner he would admit years later about his failings
that let him down on occasion: ‘I might have got complacent, I might have
gotten too big for my boots, I might have relaxed a bit. The game can bring
you down very quickly but it can also pick you up if you have the self-
belief and you’re prepared to put in the hard yards.’
And when asked about whether it bothered him that he just had one
chance at the top job in Indian cricket, he said: ‘I was asked to do a job, to
lead against West Indies, and I did my job. In hindsight, probably if I’d
been given a run for two or three years, there would have been a different
story to tell. But who is to say what story it would have been.’

A Career Beyond the 22 Yards

At the age of thirty-two, plagued by a knee injury, Ravi Shastri decided not
to prolong his career on the field and announced his retirement from
international cricket. He then became the youngest Indian cricketer to walk
into the commentary box to start what would turn out to be a brilliant
second career. His would be an example that many of his peers and
successors would follow as cricket viewership in India moved from the
stands to TV sets and Ravi Shastri’s voice and astute commentary became a
part of every household’s prime time cricket viewing.
There was, however, yet another career that he was destined to have.
In 2007 after India’s shock exit from the World Cup, Shastri became the
interim coach for the series against Bangladesh which India won. Then,
seven years later, with Indian cricket once again in the doldrums and coach
Duncan Fletcher proving grossly ineffective, the board (as they were
presumably unwilling to take on the costs of breaking Fletcher’s contract
and hence did not fire him), once again turned to Ravi Shastri. Over a one-
year period as ‘team director’ working alongside Fletcher, Shastri helped
turn around the fortunes of the cricket team as it was transitioning to the
leadership of Virat Kohli from that of M.S. Dhoni.
When Fletcher’s term ended, the BCCI appointed the ‘troika’ of
Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly and V.V.S. Laxman to choose the new
head coach of the Indian team. From an illustrious initial list of candidates,
it finally came down to a face-off between Anil Kumble and Ravi Shastri,
two equally committed men with contrasting styles. In what was an
apparent resurfacing of Shastri’s occasional bouts of complacency, he
decided not to interrupt his vacation and show up personally for the
selection or perhaps it was the result of his past run-ins with those in charge
of the process. Whatever be the truth, Anil Kumble was given the job.
Exactly one extremely successful year at the helm later, a public spat
broke out between coach Kumble and captain Kohli regarding differences
in how the team should be run. Anil Kumble tendered his resignation and
Ravi Shastri was appointed head coach of the Indian cricket team.
 At the time of writing this book, India has had the longest run at the
top of the Test rankings in its history and it has just become the first Asian
team to beat Australia in Australia, seventy-one years after the first Indian
tour down under in 1947-48. The team is doing well in the ODI format as
well with hopes of a third World Cup in the hearts of fans and all signs
point to a long run at the helm for the man who famously commented to a
reporter while applying for the job of head coach: ‘When the moment is
important, Ravi Shastri is the last one to back away. So if you are asking if
my hat is in the ring, it is in there. May be three hats.’
Whatever his detractors may say, Ravi Jayadritha Shastri continues to
punch above his weight.

*The ‘hai hai’ reference is to the ‘Shastri hai hai’ slogans that would be
raised in venues across India owing to his unpopularity largely attributed to
his defensive batting at times.
Maninder Singh and Laxman Sivaramakrishnan
Fla ering to Deceive

‘Siva Rama Krishna, give us a break at Chepauk.’

—Air India advertising hoarding in Madras, 1985

Maninder Singh’s left arm and Laxman Sivaramakrishnan’s right probably

had more spin talent combined than a dozen of the spinners who would play
for India after them. But there would arguably be no duo more
disappointing in the fulfilment of their potential in the history of Indian
cricket in the twentieth century.
A common theme that runs through the conversations when you
discuss the careers of these two exceptional spinners with cricketers and
pundits of the game who followed their journey, is that both were blooded
too early and fame perhaps came faster than their young minds could
handle. The result was that the unforgiving flame of brilliance that gave
them instant fame and prominence also consumed them and eventually
flickered out over the ashes of their all too short lived careers.

A Second Sardar of Spin

It had only been three years since Bedi had walked into the sunset when a
teenaged successor sporting the same colourful patkas, ran in between the
umpire and the stumps to release the tantalisingly flighted ball from his left
hand at bewildered batsmen, demonstrating skill and guile well beyond his
years.
Early comparisons between the seventeen-year-old Maninder Singh
Billa from Pune and his illustrious predecessor from Amritsar would prove
to be premature when the baptism by fire of a Pakistan tour in 1982-83, the
previous edition of which had effectively ended Bedi’s career, yielded only
3 wickets from 5 Test matches. In comparison, bowling alongside him was
senior left-arm twirlyman Dilip Doshi who picked up 8 victims in the 4
Tests that he played. India lost the series 0-3.
Notwithstanding the sobering effect of the mauling, clearly the
selectors led by Bishan Bedi had undying faith in his future as did Kapil
Dev, the newly anointed captain. They persisted with him for the tour to
West Indies where he took 2 Test wickets. At the end of the two series he
had played thus far, Maninder had 5 wickets at a shocking average of
127.20. His 40 Ranji Trophy wickets at 14.57 for Delhi in the previous
season that had fast tracked him into the limelight, now seemed like a
statistic from a second-division planet.
After India’s historic World Cup win in 1983, when the West Indies,
still smarting from the loss, came to India, it was bound to be a keen
contest. Pride was at stake. India’s selectors, still basking in the unexpected
glow of success, decided that youth was the way forward for Indian cricket
and dispensed with the services of Venkat and Doshi. Maninder Singh, with
the most ordinary start imaginable to a Test career, suddenly had the burden
on his eighteen-year-old shoulders of carrying the mantle of Indian spin.
While he didn’t set the world on fire, the fact that there was no serious
contender for his place in the side helped him soldier on while the selectors
dreamt of the day he would justify their unwavering faith. By the time he
went to England in 1986, he had played 15 Tests and taken 22 wickets. He
was now twenty-one and competing for the (sometimes sole) spinner’s slot
with Shivlal Yadav and the youth brigade of L. Sivaramakrishnan and
Gopal Sharma. In the mix was also the all-round ability of Ravi Shastri. It
appeared to be the time the selectors would pull back on the ever-
lengthening rope of Maninder’s undelivered promise.

Delivering on the Promise

With the proverbial sword hanging over his head, just in time or belatedly,
whichever way one looks at it, Maninder Singh finally became the thus far
mythical match winner the selectors had long bet their houses on.
In 1986 when Kapil Dev walked out for the toss for the first Test, it
was a fact that India’s record at Lord’s was abysmal. There was no sugar
coating the fact that going back to 1932 and India’s inaugural Test, Lord’s
had been the burial mound of Indian cricketing hopes with two draws and
eight thrashings in 10 Tests. All that would change in June 1986 and while
young Maninder may not have won the match on his own, he would have a
significant role to play.
In the England first innings, it was Maninder who made the decisive
breakthrough getting rid of Tim Robinson before Chetan Sharma bowled
the spell of his life, temporarily shaking away the heavy burden of Javed
Miandad’s last ball six at Sharjah. Sharma ran through the top order picking
up 5 for 64 in 32 overs before Roger Binny returned to take care of the tail
and dismiss England for 294. Dilip Vengsarkar then played one of the most
sublime innings of his career stroking his way to 126 and giving India a 47-
run lead.
Kapil was in his element in the second innings picking up the top three
batsmen with England still 12 runs behind India’s slender lead. A recovery
of sorts followed and at 113 for 5, Maninder got into the act. In a
remarkable spell of spin bowling with subtle flight and switches between
the stock and the arm ball accompanied by change of angle, Maninder
broke the back of the English batting picking up 3 wickets for 9 runs in his
20.4 overs. England was all out for 180 and India was victorious for the
first time at Lord’s.
In the second Test at Leeds, Maninder would once again play a role in
an Indian victory finishing with 4 for 26 off his 16.3 overs in the second
innings, not having bowled in the first. The hero of the first innings at
Headingley was thirty-five-year-old Madan Lal, called in from his summer
league games in the north of England to replace an injured Chetan Sharma.
He came through for his country with an inspired 3 for 18 spell. The final
Test at Birmingham yielded Maninder four more victims and he ended the
series with a haul of 12 wickets at 15.58 each. Hype had finally become
reality.
Years later Maninder would say in an interview: ‘The hallmark of a
great spinner is when he’s able to produce the same results he does at home
abroad as well. A spinner should not depend upon the pitch to produce turn.
He should be able to take wickets on the bouncy and seaming tracks as
well, and just not on the rubble.’
In 1986, having seen him perform in England, one could perhaps
justifiably turn that around and ask Maninder when he himself would start
taking wickets on rubble. That question would remain unanswered when
Australia came to India later that year and Maninder was back producing
his now familiar underwhelming numbers, picking up 5 wickets in 3 Tests
at 70.40 apiece.
The enduring image (literally) of Maninder Singh from this series is of
a confused, protesting young Sikh at the Chepauk pointing to his bat as he
is dismissed LBW by Greg Matthews resulting in the second Tied match in
the history of Test cricket. Like Chetan Sharma’s infamous last-ball six
conceded to Javed Miandad at Sharjah, Maninder would never live down
his role in history as the man whose dismissal resulted in India’s only Tied
Test.
Against Sri Lanka three months later, Maninder picked up one of the
two 10-wicket hauls in his career, using the Nagpur pitch that turned square
(some would call it rubble) to produce figures of 3 for 56 and 7 for 51.
Once again an adoring media labelled him India’s No. 1 spin bowler. But at
least for this series, with 18 wickets at 15.50 each, they were not far off the
mark.
A year later against Pakistan, a good performance in Madras and
indifferent ones in the next two Tests were followed by what would
effectively be Maninder’s last hurrah. At Bangalore on an underprepared
surface (in today’s age Bangalore would perhaps have been penalised by a
lost Test match for that pitch) Maninder took revenge on Pakistan on behalf
of all the Indian spinners, including himself, who had been mauled across
the border over the decade just past.
Maninder’s 7 for 27 off 18.2 overs including 4 wickets in 13 balls,
almost single-handedly wrecked Pakistan, dismissing them for 116 midway
through the first day. India managed a small lead of 29 but in the second
innings, the magic Maninder had produced in the first instance, simply
disappeared. In a re-run of travails past, on a pitch turning square, Maninder
let his excitement get ahead of him and instead of letting the pitch do the
work, he tried too hard. He sent down 43.5 overs and finished with 3 for 99
as Pakistan put on 249. Iqbal Qasim and Tauseef Ahmed, the Pakistani
spinners, made no such mistake and dismissed India for 204 in its chase of
221 for victory despite a magnificent 96 from Sunil Gavaskar. To rub salt
into the wound, once again, Maninder found himself stranded at the crease,
unable to help his country to an elusive victory with the bat as this time
Roger Binny was the last man out. Pakistan won a series in India for the
first time. It was perhaps of some comfort to Indian fans that Maninder’s
tally was 20 wickets at 23.90 apiece.
In the Reliance World Cup in 1987, Maninder was the highest wicket
taker with 14 victims at 20 each but then in 3 Tests against the West Indies
at home his tally was a familiar 2 wickets at 155 each. With the emergence
of Narendra Hirwani and Arshad Ayub, Maninder was finally dropped from
the team and would return two years later for a tour of Pakistan.
Unfortunately, his experience in Pakistan the second time was no different
from the first, yielding 3 wickets at 132.50. Dropped again, he would
resurface for one final Test match four years later against Zimbabwe at
Delhi.
Despite his 7 wickets in the match, Venkatapathy Raju, Anil Kumble
and Rajesh Chauhan would be picked for the next series, drawing a final
curtain over Maninder’s career. When he finally retired at the age of thirty,
his Test numbers of 88 wickets from 35 Tests at 37.36 and ODI figures of
66 victims at 31.30 did scant justice to his largely unfulfilled talent.
I asked Kapil Dev, who captained Maninder for much of his career, for
his views on the spinner. Kapil had sadness in his voice when he said:
‘Talented. But when so many talented cricketers come out they don’t value
their own talent and get carried away in life. They don’t understand.
Sometimes your own group can help you out and sometimes not. When you
keep good company you can become good and when you keep bad
company you become worse as a person. People like Chetan (Sharma) and
Maninder needed someone who could control them and put together a
group of people who would motivate and help them do the right things to
succeed. Virat Kohli plays this role for the current team by being an
example and holding them together, pointing them in the right direction. In
my own case if I can give credit to one person who played this role, worked
even harder than me and helped me succeed, it was Yograj Singh, Yuvraj’s
father. In every long-distance race, every winner needs a starter and Yograj
was that starter to me.’93
Beyond the 22 Yards
Thirty being too early for anyone to retire, Maninder had stints as an umpire
and a commentator after his playing days were over. In 2007, controversies
came into his life with charges of cocaine possession, followed by an
unsuccessful attempt at slashing his own wrists. A reclusive existence since
has been the result.
I asked Syed Kirmani who kept wickets to Maninder for much of his
career, about the reasons for Maninder’s less-than-stellar numbers. Kirmani
had a story about the time when a foreign journalist went up to Maninder
and complimented him on his action and bowling which closely resembled
Bishan Bedi and asked him: ‘Did you learn how to bowl from Bedi? Your
actions are so similar and your bowling reminds me so much of him.’ Much
to Kirmani’s surprise, the next day Maninder was bowling with a different
action and continued to do so, completely losing his effectiveness and bite.
‘The problem was in the head,’ was Kirmani’s conclusion.94
David Frith, perhaps the world’s greatest living cricket writer, called
Maninder ‘a very tense young man’. He went on to narrate an incident:
‘Had him down to play one Sunday for my club (Guildford) in Surrey. I
kept wicket and after he’d sent down a couple of overs of immaculate but
identical orthodox slow left-armers, I said to him, ‘Don’t you have a fast
one?’ Next over, third or fourth ball, he knocked the leg stump out of the
ground, fortunately stopping short of sparing me. ‘That,’ he called down the
pitch, ‘is my fast one!’95
Sanjay Manjrekar in his book Imperfect recounts the exchange
between Imran Khan and Maninder Singh in 1989 after the conclusion of
the Test series when Imran came up to Maninder and said: ‘Manni, what
have you done to your bowling? Why did you change your action? There is
no run-up now, nothing.’ Maninder tried to explain that he had lost his
accuracy and hence shortened his run-up, an explanation that Imran
dismissed with disdain and advised: ‘Go back to the original run-up and
keep bowling at one stump, a thousand balls a day, and you will find your
accuracy.’ It is safe to say that the advice fell on deaf ears.
Dilip Vengsarkar concurs: ‘Maninder was a good bowler but he
decided to change his action because he wanted to bowl closer to the
stumps. Perhaps someone had advised him to do so. His bowling fell apart
after that and no matter what we all told him, he would not change it back
to his natural action.’96
While it would be easy to dismiss Maninder’s career as the tale of
unfulfilled talent and lack of mental stoicism, it would indeed also be a
relevant question to ask whether it was the weight of expectations of his
mentor, the selectors, the fans and the media that was ultimately responsible
for him being judged on the basis of their perception of the bowler they
thought he could have been rather than the bowler he actually was.

Laxman Sivaramakrishnan e Gupte Who Never Was

A Promising Start
Born and brought up in the cricketing Mecca of southern Madras, Siva
started bowling leg-spin to his elder brothers and friends every evening
after school for a very simple reason—using the wrist was the easiest way
to give revolutions to the tennis ball. In this, he was following the steps of
India’s last genuine leg-spinner before him—Subhash Gupte, who had
learnt the art in much the same way in the gullies of Bombay.
Siva may never have heard of Gupte but by the time he was fifteen, he
had been spotted by two men who had and knew they were looking at a
special talent. Ravi Shastri, brought up in Bombay on the heady tales of
Gupte’s exploits, was his captain when fifteen-year-old Siva made it to the
India Under-19 side. The bursting freshness of Siva’s talent and the street
smartness of Ravi Shastri were a potent combination. Watching over
Shastri’s shoulder with undisguised excitement at the find was chairman of
selectors Chandu Borde, himself a leg-spinner of class and a witness of
Subhash Gupte’s talent that India had thrown away so carelessly two
decades earlier.
On Siva’s first-class debut, it was Venkataraghavan, his captain, who
stood him near the umpire, pointed to the footmarks outside leg stump and
asked if he could land his leg-breaks on the patch. Siva took 7 wickets in
the second innings of that game. With so many people convinced of his
class, it was only a matter of time before Siva was fast tracked.
Given the expectations, Siva’s debut at the age of seventeen in the last
Test of the series against the West Indies at Antigua in 1983 just before the
Prudential World Cup, becoming the youngest debutant ever for India, was
less than spectacular. In a high-scoring match, on a pitch that gave nothing
to the spinners, Siva bowled 25 overs in the only innings and failed to take
a wicket while his state captain, thirty-eight-year-old Venkataraghavan
returned figures of 2 for 114. With the selectors persisting with Maninder,
Siva was sent back to domestic cricket. It was eighteen months later at
Bombay against England that Siva would make a spectacular return to the
Test arena in his second international match.
It would be naïve to pretend that the English team was at full strength
with Ian Botham (opted out), Graham Gooch and John Emburey (serving
bans for South African rebel tours) not in the side. David Gower leading the
side had not won a Test match in nine attempts. Mike Gatting, the vice-
captain, had an average of 23.83 in his 30 Tests. Perhaps with the
confidence of his elevation, his next 13 Tests would yield an average of
72.37.
The performances in the practice matches brought forth an unfortunate
scathing comment from Indian selector and former Test batsman Ambar
Roy: ‘It’s difficult to recall a weaker England side coming to India. I
appreciate their problems now that they’ve lost that great pair of bowlers
Bob Willis and Ian Botham. But I can’t see them getting India out twice in a
Test match.’
Roy was perhaps biased in his outlook as a national selector. If
England’s run of 12 Tests without a win since August 1983 did not inspire
confidence, India came in with an even less laudable record of no victories
in thirty-one attempts since November 1981. The teams were actually
evenly matched in their dismal immediate performances.
On the opening day Gower won the toss and chose to bat first. Graeme
Fowler and Robinson had taken England to 46 and except for Shivlal
Yadav, Kapil had already tried every other bowler in an attempt at getting a
breakthrough. Then he threw the ball to Sivaramakrishnan. Fowler was
caught and bowled by Siva, and Gatting followed in identical fashion.
England finished the day at 190 for 8 and were all out 5 runs later, Siva
having got rid of the tail finishing with figures of 6 for 64 in his second
innings of Test cricket. Ravi Shastri and Syed Kirmani then scored centuries
to frustrate England and India declared at 465 for 8. In the second innings,
Siva picked up another 6 wickets for 117 giving him match figures of 12 for
181 at 15.08 apiece. India won the match.
 When Siva took 7 wickets at an average of 20 in the second Test at
Delhi (which England won), it looked like India had finally found the next
Gupte. Chris Lander, writing in the Daily Mirror would say: ‘This hopeless
position was forced upon them (England) by the wiles of India’s teenage
leg-spinner Sivarama.’
But this would be the pinnacle of Sivaramakrishnan’s strange Test
career. From the third Test onwards, Sivaramakrishnan was a completely
changed man, taking only four more wickets at a shocking average of
100.50, allowing England to come from 0-1 down to win the series 2-1.
India’s national airline Air India would put up the catchy billboard in
Madras before the final Test that entreated divine intervention with a play
on the young bowler’s name: ‘Siva Rama Krishna, give us a break at
Chepauk’. The Gods were alas otherwise engaged.
Over the next year Siva played three more Tests, one against Sri Lanka
at Colombo and two in Australia and his Test career ended with a tally of 26
wickets at an average of 44.03. He was only twenty-one. Fortunately for
India, he would find a new lease of life in the ODI arena where his career
would extend a further year.

e Peak and the Free Fall

In February 1985, the world’s top teams gathered in Australia for the World
Championship of Cricket. After the 1983 World Cup victory, India would
not be taken lightly but they were far from being favourites in this white
ball format under lights, wearing a strange set of blue and white clothes.
Before the first match, a huge one against arch rivals Pakistan,
Gavaskar came up to his young spinners Shastri and Siva and casually told
them: ‘Let’s go out for lunch.’
Siva had never played an ODI. His inclusion in this squad had
confounded him so much he had asked his best buddy and roommate,
Shastri, about why he had been picked at all. Shastri’s understanding was
that it was meant to be an acclimatisation trip ahead of India’s Test tour to
Australia the following year.
‘What field would you like to bowl to tomorrow?’ Gavaskar asked at
lunch to the astounded Siva. He had a plan: Shastri would play a holding
role at one end while Siva would attack. It didn’t matter if he went for runs,
as long as he picked up two or three wickets. The next day Shastri and Siva
conceded 76 runs in 20 overs and picked up two wickets between them and
India achieved a comfortable 6-wicket win. A template had been found.
Five Siva wickets against England, Australia and New Zealand later,
India was in the finals and it was again Pakistan on the other side. Arun
Venugopal describes what happened in ESPN Cricinfo: ‘With sleeves rolled
up to the elbows and two enormous wristbands sheathing his forearms, a
gaunt figure twirls the ball vigorously. He gives the field no more than a
cursory scan before bounding in to toss one up. Imran Khan pushes to point
and takes off for an impossible single; Sunil Gavaskar swoops down on the
ball and hits the stumps direct. The bowler soon dismisses Salim Malik but
it is his next ball that gives heft to the hype surrounding him. Javed
Miandad follows one that veers away and Sadanand Viswanath pulls off a
neat stumping. Drift, dip, turn, sucker punch. The bowler finishes with 3 for
35. India go on to a historic tournament win.’ Laxman Sivaramkrishnan,
with 10 wickets in the tournament, was now a match winner in both formats
of the game.
Less than two weeks later the teams met again at Sharjah, a venue that
the Pakistanis considered home and where they had made it a practice to
devour Indians for lunch on Fridays (the weekly holiday when these clashes
were typically scheduled). The plot looked familiar when Imran Khan ran
through India picking up 6 for 14 in India’s meagre total of 125 with what
Gavaskar would call, ‘a devastating spell of fast, swing bowling’. Kapil
Dev who had taken over as captain, recounts the break in the innings: ‘At
lunch everyone was congratulating the Pakistanis … The lunch break was
the most astonishing I have ever encountered. No one wanted to eat. As if
on command every member lay down and went to sleep. Yes, it sounds
funny but that’s just what happened.’97
When play resumed, Kapil pepped up the team: ‘C’mon, let’s make
them fight for every run.’ No one would be more influenced than young
Siva. Arun Venugopal again with his evocative words describes what
happened next: ‘Pakistan are looking to make light work of a target of 126.
The young leg-spinner, however, is niftily shredding their plans. He has
Ashraf Ali caught at silly point. Enter Imran Khan, for once without the
crowd behind him. “Sheeva, Sheeva,” goes an uninterrupted chant that
acquires a menacing rhythm as the bowler uncoils into his final stride. He
bowls a generously flighted googly and Imran stretches out in defence. Not
long after he jumps out decisively but the ball is doing its handler’s bidding
and passes the batsman in a fizzy blur as Viswanath completes a swift
stumping. Pakistan crash to 87. The prayers are answered.’
Kapil tells me about that match: ‘That win was an accident like some
wins are. The result could have been different, otherwise you would always
win such matches. So I don’t like to dwell on the result itself but what these
kinds of matches do is bring audiences back to the ground and cricketers’
thought processes change because you start to believe that it’s possible.
Science tells us that burn victims with 70 per cent burns can survive
because they believe they can. When human beings think it is possible, it is
possible.’ 98
In the next two-and-a-half years, Siva played 10 more ODIs and
picked up just 3 wickets. Along with his Test career, his ODI career fell into
an abyss. It is as if he had forgotten how to bowl. The unforgiving Indian
fans gave a name to Siva’s stock delivery at this stage of his career, the full
toss, with which he took his last international wicket, that of John Traicos,
calling it ‘Siva’s special’.
On 17 October 1987, at the age of twenty-one, Laxman
Sivaramakrishnan played his last international match, having picked up 15
ODI wickets at 35.86.

Why Did the Plot Unravel So Fast for

Sivaramakrishnan?
While it is a matter of conjecture how such talent could be extinguished so
quickly, an untreated rotator calf injury suffered during the Australia tour
may have been the reason for the loss of his effectiveness. But that cannot
be the only reason.
Rumours of drink, drugs and women have been vehemently denied by
Siva, once replying with sarcasm: ‘You can’t be all three at the same time:
if you are an alcoholic, you will be busy drinking. If you are a drug-addict,
you are gone, you have passed out, how can you be a womaniser with that?
All these three together are an impossible thing. If somebody has got that,
he must have extraordinary skills.’99 In recent times he has been seen as a
thoughtful and perceptive commentator, particularly on spin bowling,
finally laying to rest the demons of the past.
 Several legends of Indian cricket that I interviewed while writing this
book had similar thoughts on the apparently inexplicable disappearance of a
bunch of prodigiously talented youngsters at the same point of time—Siva,
Maninder and the phenomenally capable and talented wicketkeeper
Sadanand Vishwanath (who Kirmani considers one of the greatest
wicketkeeping talents India has ever seen) from the scene at the peak of
their powers.
A common theme seems to be huge hype from the media that went to
their heads, overindulgence in vices they could suddenly afford at a young
age while traveling the world, aided and abetted by certain elements within
the team who, perhaps from insecurity about their place in the team or
attempting to preserve their personal records, encouraged the indulgence in
these vices. And such comments were by no means confined to this period
of time but have been made about Indian sides for over two decades starting
from the early 1970s.
Dilip Vengsarkar, while shying away from speculating on these
aspects, told me: ‘Siva was a bowler with a lovely action and great skill, a
very talented cricketer. He was also an excellent fielder and a good
batsman. He could have been a good all-rounder for India. But to be a leg-
spinner you need to have a big heart. You will get hit but then you have to
bounce back, like an Abdul Qadir. Siva did not show that heart to fight
back.’100
Kapil Dev does not even need to think for a moment before he tells
me: ‘Sivaramakrishnan was the most talented Indian spin bowler I have
ever seen. But he had no heart. With the amount of talent he had, he would
have taken 500 wickets. On top of that he was a competent batsman and a
superb fielder. He could have ruled Indian cricket but unfortunately he did
not have the heart. Four cricketers spoilt their cricket: Sivaramakrishnan,
Maninder Singh, Sadanand Vishwanath and Chetan Sharma. They had so
much talent it’s difficult to express in words.’101
Perhaps if Indian teams of the past had physios and psychologists,
prodigious talents like Siva and Maninder would have fulfilled their
undeniable potential and their journey from fame to obscurity would have
lasted a bit longer than it did.
 When It Rains It Pours
e Search for the Next Wizard

‘As a bowler one has to be a step ahead of the batsman. You have to
work with the ball, understand it, care for it, and learn to get purchase
from it. It is a thinking game and you must study the game and the
opponent to be able to excel.’
—Rakesh Shukla

In a dramatic turnaround from a situation when for two decades it was

impossible to get a look into the Indian Test side as a spinner, by the latter
part of the ‘70s into the early ‘80s the selectors were scrambling to identify
and induct replacements for the Quartet. While the likes of Dilip Doshi,
Shivlal Yadav and Ravi Shastri went on to have glittering careers and the
duo of Maninder and Siva had shorter but notable stints, there were also a
number of less heralded twirlymen who were given chances at the highest
level during this period of transition. This is the story of those forgotten
few.

M.V. Narasimha Rao

A Short Test Career

While Dilip Doshi is largely heralded as the first in line to help India make
the successful transition from the Quartet to the next generation of spinners,
there were two men who beat Doshi into being the first spinners to make
their debuts after the Quartet. The first was Modireddy Venkat (Bobjee)
Narasimha Rao. Sadly, his domestic promise did not translate into Test
excellence and he faded into domestic oblivion within a year.
After the disastrous tour of Pakistan in 1978, the selectors woke up to
the fact that they had not groomed, nor indeed looked at, possible
replacements for the Quartet. It was clearly time for experimenting and
their eyes settled on twenty-four-year-old Bobjee Narasimha Rao of
Hyderabad, a leg-spinner who could bat. Rao found himself in the team
against the West Indies for the third Test at the Eden Gardens in 1978,
replacing B.S. Chandrasekhar. Gavaskar had replaced Bedi as captain at the
start of the series and Prasanna was not in the team any longer, so in more
than one way, the transition was underway.
Rao’s debut at Calcutta was uneventful, yielding a sole wicket from
the two innings at the cost of 76 runs while Venkat picked up seven victims
conceding 102 runs. He was joined by Dhiraj Parsana replacing Bedi as the
left-arm spinner in the team in the next Test at Madras. Once again, the
youngsters did nothing of note, Rao failing with both ball and bat. It was
veteran Venkat who again picked up 7 wickets for 103. Rao went back to
domestic cricket, replaced by the man who had ceded him the place in the
team as it was concluded that the search for a successor for Chandra would
have to continue and the transition would last a while longer.
The next season when Australia came to visit, Rao found himself back
in the team for the fourth Test, this time alongside Dilip Doshi and Shivlal
Yadav at Delhi. Both Doshi and Yadav had already had phenomenal debuts.
The pressure was on Rao. Yadav picked up 3 and Doshi and Rao bagged 2
wickets each in the drawn match. Back in Calcutta where he had made his
debut, in the fifth Test of the series, Rao failed to take a wicket despite the
Australians struggling against his deceptive googly, while Doshi bagged six
on a less-than-responsive Eden surface. Rao did show his brilliance in the
field and spoke out recently about something that is oft forgotten about the
Tests: ‘I took 8 catches at forward short leg, some very good ones but not
much was publicised. Television was very new. However, I have no
complaints. Cricket was my passion.’
 e Second Innings
With two impactful spinners now in the side, it was clear to both Rao and
the selectors that staying in the side would be an uphill task for him. Indeed,
Rao’s Test career for India would start and end at Calcutta. He continued
playing first-class cricket and eventually ended with 245 wickets at 28.05
apiece, spinning Hyderabad to the Ranji Trophy in 1986-87 as the captain.
But there remained a twist to the Bobjee Rao tale.
After he decided to play his last Ranji game, Rao went to Ireland for a
season to play as a professional. He decided to stay on and ended up
playing for Ireland in 1994 and 1995. He then became a coach and advisor
to the U-13, U-15 and U-19 teams, coaching almost every player who made
his debut for Ireland in their first Test match against Pakistan in 2018. He
was the first Indian cricketer to be awarded the MBE, recognised for his
services to Irish cricket.
But India was not completely deprived of his services as a coach and
mentor. A cricket academy that he started in Hyderabad produced one of
India’s greatest batsmen. To this day, V.V.S. Laxman acknowledges the
contribution of Bobjee Rao as his first coach.

Dhiraj Parsana

A Test Career Over Before It Started

When Bishan Bedi was dropped for the first time, he could and perhaps
should have been replaced by Padmakar Shivalkar, Rajinder Goel, Rajinder
Hans or Dilip Doshi, all world class left-arm spinners who had been waiting
in the wings for a decade and more. Instead it was Saurashtra’s all-rounder
Dhiraj Devshibhai Parsana who bowled both orthodox left-arm and swung
the ball prodigiously with a longer run-up, who found himself in the Indian
team for the fourth Test at Madras alongside Bobjee Rao. He picked up the
solitary wicket of Vanburn Holder and failed to score a run. In the next Test
at Delhi he scored 1 run and didn’t take a wicket. Parsana’s Test figures
read 1 wicket for 50 and 1 run in 2 innings. With the selectors spoilt for
choice and in a hurry to replace the Quartet quickly, that was the end of his
cricketing career but not of his association with the sport.
A ‘Grounded’ Second Career
Born into a landed rural family in Rajkot, Parsana had always been
interested in soil. Playing in Scotland and England in the minor leagues, he
got involved with taking care of the pitch. With Durham, he was a player
and a full-time groundsman. When the Sardar Patel Gujarat Stadium in
Motera, Ahmedabad, was started in 1982, Polly Umrigar asked Parsana to
become the curator.
Over the next three decades, Parsana grew steadily in stature despite
facing various challenges. One of the biggest was the rapid growth of
science in pitch-curating. ‘I used to travel and inspect pitches for various
matches. Wherever I went, I would take (soil) samples to learn and analyse
more. The way a pitch behaves depends on the soil and the climatic
conditions. In India, we use black cotton soil for pitches. Before it’s used, it
will be tested for clay content, silt, plasticity, shrinker-swelling and ph
value. Each has different criteria and only then it will work for a cricket
pitch. A lot of people wouldn’t agree with me then but we were taking
science too lightly for a long time,’ says Parsana. He has changed the
approach to making pitches in India and the pride shines through when he
says: ‘I played nineteen years of first-class cricket and survived thirty-two
years as a curator. I am enjoying the journey.’

Rakesh Shukla
When Rao could not fill the void left by Chandra’s decline, the search for a
successor continued and in 1982 the selectors decided to try out Rakesh
Shukla, a leg-spinner who had been a pillar of strength for Delhi for over a
decade, helping his team win the Ranji Trophy beating Karnataka in 1981-
82.
In a recent article, Vijay Lokapally wrote about Shukla: ‘He bowled
leg-spin (with a lethal googly), was a master at bowling long spells and
batted in the middle order. He was not known to drop catches.’
Bowling alongside Dilip Doshi in the one-off Test against Sri Lanka at
Madras, Shukla failed to take a wicket in the first innings from his 22 overs
while Doshi picked up five. In the second innings he picked up the wickets
of Roy Dias and Duleep Mendis, the two highest-scoring batsmen on the Sri
Lankan side. Kapil Dev and Doshi took the lion’s share of the wickets in the
Indian victory. Shukla was a capable batsman but did not get a chance to bat
in either innings. This would be his solitary chance in the sun as the
selectors renewed their search for the next Chandra.
Shukla’s seventeen-year career spanned 121 first-class matches where
he bagged 295 wickets and scored 3,798 runs with 6 centuries. He passed
away in June 2019.

Raghuram Bhat
It is unfortunately a statement about the international career of Adwai
Raghuram Bhat that he is best remembered for a domestic performance and
the unusual circumstances that surrounded it.
In 1981-82, Karnataka faced a strong Bombay side in the Ranji
Trophy semi-finals at Bangalore. Sunil Gavaskar won the toss and chose to
bat. But for Sandip Patil’s 117 and Ghulam Parkar’s 84, Bombay would not
have reached the score of 271. Raghuram Bhat scythed through the Bombay
attack with his deceptive left-arm spin. Parkar, Ashok Mankad and Suru
Nayak were unwitting victims of a Bhat hat-trick on his way to an 8-wicket
haul.
Karnataka scored 470 and in the second innings, on a deteriorating
pitch, already having had some trouble coping with Bhat in the first innings,
Gavaskar dropped himself down in the order. A keen student of the game’s
history, he probably recalled Bradman more than once reversing the batting
order to win matches against England on sticky wickets.
There was, however, no respite and Gavaskar at No. 8 soon found
himself out in the middle. Unable to play Bhat, he adopted an unusual tactic
as only geniuses can. He decided to bat left-handed against Bhat and right-
handed against the other bowlers. He would say later: ‘The ball was turning
square and Raghuram Bhat was pretty much unplayable on that surface.
Since he was a left-hand orthodox spinner getting the ball to turn and
bounce sharply away from the right-handers, I thought that the way to
counter that was by playing left handed where the ball would turn and
bounce but hit the body harmlessly (without the risk of getting out leg
before wicket).’
Gavaskar batted for over 60 minutes as a left-hander and ensured
Bombay did not lose outright, the team score showing 200 for 9. Karnataka
went through to the final based on the big first innings lead and Raghuram
Bhat ended up with 13 wickets.
Bhat remembers: ‘I tried all my tricks. The faster one, armer,
chinaman, yorker. I bowled round the wicket, over the wicket and used the
bowling crease. But Gavaskar played with confidence.’
Years later Rahul Dravid would recount: ‘I remember watching that
game as a kid and was amazed at what I saw. On the one hand, you had
Raghuram Bhat who bowled magically and easily out-bowled the younger
Ravi Shastri. On the other hand, you had the genius of Sunil Gavaskar
being outrageous and batting left-handed to one bowler and right handed to
the others.’
Bhat’s Test career, spread over a three-week period in October 1983
and comprising 2 matches, would unfortunately be less impactful. Debuting
in the third Test against Pakistan at Nagpur, Javed Miandad became his first
victim, trapped in front unable to read an arm ball. Mudassar Nazar stepped
out only to be deceived by the flight and see the bails whipped off by
Kirmani. In the second innings, he was not given a bowl in Pakistan’s score
of 42 for 1 as the match petered to a draw.
Two weeks later, he played against the West Indies at Kanpur inducing
an edge to Kirmani from Clive Lloyd and trapping Gus Logie leg before.
West Indies did not need to bat twice, won the match by an innings and
despite bagging four prized wickets in his two matches, Raghuram Bhat
was dropped and never played Test cricket again. It was time to blood
Maninder Singh, similar in style and seven years younger.

Gopal Sharma
With Shivlal Yadav proving a capable replacement for Prasanna and
Venkataraghavan, there were not too many opportunities for another off-
spinner to make a mark. But in 1985, a Venkat-like bowler with accuracy
and stamina as his main weapons rather than guile, Gopal Sharma found
himself in the Indian team against England on his home ground of Kanpur.
Sharma was the first player from India’s most populous state Uttar Pradesh
to make it into the national team since independence and only the second
after Vizzy. About his bowling, V. Ramnarayan says: ‘I rarely ever saw him
bowl a genuine off-break; most of his deliveries instead went straight or
floated towards slip. He was a smart operator with numerous variations in
flight and pace and fooled many batsmen with them.’102
Sharma impressed on his debut with a 3-wicket haul while the leg
spinning boy wonder Sivaramakrishnan went wicketless. Against Sri Lanka
a few months later at Colombo, he failed to rattle any stumps and was
dropped. Back in the team two years later against Pakistan at Jaipur
bowling alongside Shivlal Yadav, Sharma was the most successful bowler
picking up 4 wickets in the only innings he bowled. In the next Test,
however, Yadav’s flight and guile were more effective and Sharma only
managed two victims. Out of reckoning again for over three years, Sharma
made his way back briefly against Sri Lanka at Chandigarh, but with only 1
wicket against his name, this signalled the end of his Test career.
Between 1985 and 1987, Sharma played 11 ODIs where it was felt
that his restrictive brand of bowling would be effective. But 10 wickets at
an average of 36.10 was never going to be enough to keep him in the side
with a lot of young spinners emerging. Nonetheless, when he finally hung
up his boots in 1992, Sharma could justly be proud of his 353 first-class
wickets earned at just above 30 runs each including an outstanding
performance of 9 for 59.

Arshad Ayub
Arshad Ayub continued the legacy of off-spinners from Hyderabad when he
played 13 Tests and 37 ODIs for India between 1987 and 1990. While he
turned the ball from the off to the middle and leg on truly responsive
pitches, he was not a true proponent of the art in the mould of Prasanna or
Ghulam Ahmed. Ayub’s stock ball on flat pitches was one which drifted
rather than turned into the batsman and many of his victims failed to read
the one that went straight after drifting in. As Partab Ramchand points out
in Gentle Executioners: ‘Accuracy and control, rather than flight and
vicious spin, were his watchwords.’
Ayub made his Test debut against Viv Richards’ West Indies at Delhi
where India were bowled out for 75 in the first innings. In the first innings
he picked up a sole wicket. India came back well to set a target of 276, but
Richards struck a belligerent 100 in the second knock. The only resistance
was provided by Ayub who picked up 4 out of the 5 wickets to fall, his
victims being Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes, Winston Davis and
Gus Logie. In a disappointing follow up, Ayub picked up only 1 wicket in
the next three Tests.
In the ODI format where he debuted against the West Indies in the
same 1987 series, Ayub proved to be a more consistent performer. The high
point of Ayub’s ODI career was at the 1988 Asia Cup in Bangladesh. India
faced Sri Lanka in the final at Dhaka where he bowled a tight spell of 9-0-
24-0. Banking on a brilliant knock from Navjot Singh Sidhu, India went on
to lift the trophy. In the must-win game earlier, with Pakistan cruising at 91
for 1, Ayub had sent down a magnificent spell of 9-0-21-5 bowling Pakistan
out for 142.
Arshad Ayub proved that he was at the peak of his prowess when New
Zealand came to India for a Test series around the same time. The hapless
Kiwis were all at sea against his drift and turn on helpful tracks, and in the
company of Hirwani he spun a web around them to pick up 21 wickets in
the 3 Tests at Bangalore, Bombay and Hyderabad at an incredible average
of 13.66.
In 1989 when India went to the West Indies, critics predicted Ayub’s
downfall with his inability to impart spin. Once again he would prove them
wrong. While Shastri took 7 wickets at 48.42 and Hirwani 6 at 57.50, Ayub
picked up 14 wickets at 32.28. At this stage of his career, he had 41 wickets
from 11 Tests at 27.78 apiece.
And then came along a tour to Pakistan, a country that had destroyed
the careers of many of Ayub’s more illustrious predecessors. He bowled 86
overs conceded 300 runs and saw his career average move up to 35.10. He
was dropped from the tour to New Zealand, played a few ODIs thereafter
but never appeared again for India in Tests. Two years, a fantastic run, and
the all-too-familiar fade away would define the short but eventful career of
Arshad Ayub.
 Narendra Hirwani
A Debut to Remember

‘In the evening Ravi (Shastri) bhai called me to his room and told me:
“Tu bindaas dal (you bowl without any fear)”. I was elated and so
excited that I could not sleep the night. I kept visualising bowling a
flipper to Viv and the ball eluding his bat and going straight through
and hitting the stumps. It panned out exactly the same way hours
later. I dismissed Viv with a flipper—this time for real.’
—Narendra Hirwani, about dismissing Viv Richards at Madras 1988

At Madras (later Chennai) in 1988, an unknown bespectacled leg-spinner

born in Gorakhpur to Sindhi parents, struck terror in the hearts of the most
fearless batsmen in the world and made headlines wherever cricket was
followed. Bowling two stunning spells of leg-spin in either innings,
Narendra Deepchand Hirwani picked up 16 wickets for 136 runs on debut
against the West Indies, a side that had not lost to India in nine years. Never
in the preceding 111 years of Tests had anyone come close to achieving
such a feat, nor has another bowler done so in the thirty years since. (Bob
Massie who also picked up 16 wickets on debut did so conceding one more
run and took more than one spell in each innings to achieve the feat.)
It is worth spending a few moments to consider exactly how unlikely
the circumstances were that led to what statisticians would possibly call a
‘Ten Sigma event’ (very simply put, an extremely unlikely event), for there
was little in Hirwani’s life leading up to the Test match against the West
Indies that suggested the staggering results he achieved here were even
possible.

An Unlikely Cricketer
One can hardly fault the amusement and disbelief of the group of selectors
in Indore who were confronted one day in early 1983 with a grossly
overweight fourteen-year-old who had travelled more than 1,000 km for a
trial, insisting to all who cared to listen that he would one day play for
India. Rebelling against parental pressure to complete his education and
join the family brick kiln business, Hirwani, under the mentorship of former
cricketer Sanjay Jagdale (who played for Madhya Pradesh and would later
go on to become national selector and secretary of the BCCI) moved into a
small room at the Nehru stadium in Indore.
Eighteen months later in December 1984 Narendra Hirwani, playing
his first-ever Ranji Trophy encounter for Madhya Pradesh against
Rajasthan, picked up a 5-wicket haul from 33.4 overs in the only innings he
bowled. His 13-wicket tally that season would improve to 24 the following
year.
At this stage, the former Test cricketer Hanumant Singh, who was a
coach and later an ICC referee, spotted Hirwani and decided the boy had a
future. In 1986-87, Hirwani was selected for the India U-19 tour to
Australia and returned as the highest wicket taker with twenty-three victims
from 3 ‘Tests’, including eleven in the first. A year later, playing for the
India U-25 against the visiting West Indies side, he picked up all 6 second-
innings wickets to fall in a 30-over spell.

A Debut to Remember
It looked like all the stars were aligned for Hirwani when he was included
in the side for the final Test at Madras against the visitors, with India
desperate to level the series. Maninder Singh, as was the case for much of
his career, was going through one of the many patches when he looked a
shadow of his former self. He had a groin injury to add to his woes. The
Chepauk pitch looked clearly underprepared, the mantle of captaincy fell
for the first (and as it would turn out, the last) time on the shoulders of Ravi
Shastri (Dilip Vengsarkar was injured). Shastri, himself a spinner, had little
hesitation in handing Hirwani the India cap. This meant that a spin trio
which also included Arshad Ayub and Shastri himself would be playing the
Test. The decision would have spectacular implications.
India scored 382 in the first innings thanks in no small measure to a
magnificent 109 from Kapil Dev aided by 69 from opener Arun Lal. West
Indies was soon 47 for 2, but the two Antiguans, Viv Richards and Richie
Richardson, steadied the ship. After bowling Arshad Ayub and himself, in
the last session of the day, Shastri finally threw the ball to the debutant.
With a decent score to back him up and no sign of nerves, a confident
young Hirwani tossed the ball up and spun it menacingly. The West Indies
batsmen were neither able to read his googly nor were they able to deal
with his vicious leg-breaks. He got Richardson, Gus Logie and Carl Hooper
all in quick time. With the West Indies at 147 for 5, stumps was called. To
the immense relief of the visitors, Viv Richards was still at the crease.
Hirwani recalls his captain’s instructions: ‘Ravi bhai had told me to
stick to a good line and length and mix up my leg-break and googlies. I did
just that and picked 3 of the first 5 West Indies wickets to fall in the first
innings, but Viv was going great guns. I wanted to bowl a few flippers but
refrained from doing so and followed my captain’s instructions. At the end
of Day 2, Viv was unbeaten on 62.’
The captain had forbidden Hirwani from experimenting and the
nineteen-year-old didn’t have it in him to defy the skipper. But he expressed
his frustration to physio Ali Irani the next morning (which happened to be
the rest day), adding that he was confident he could get through Richards’
defences with a flipper.
Hirwani again: ‘In the evening (on the rest day) Ravi bhai called me to
his room and told me. “Tu bindaas dal (you bowl without any fear)”. I was
elated and so excited that I could not sleep the night. I kept visualising
bowling a flipper to Viv and the ball eluding his bat and going straight
through and hitting the stumps. By the time we reached the ground, I had
replayed the sequence in my mind one hundred times. It panned out exactly
the same way hours later. I dismissed Viv with a flipper—this time for real
—and Ravi bhai came rushing, exclaiming “Wah Hiru, kya flipper dala
(Wow Hiru, what a flipper)”. I just stood there, soaking in the moment.’
Richards’ dismissal was the moment that broke the proverbial camel’s
back and the West Indies collapsed for 184. Hirwani had taken 8 for 61
bowling an unchanged spell of 18.3 overs. With a 198-run lead already in
the bag, Shastri declared the second innings closed at 217 for 8, leaving the
West Indies the daunting task of scoring 416 to win the Test match on a
deteriorating pitch.
Notwithstanding their long and illustrious batting line-up, it was
always going to be a struggle for the West Indies. Desmond Haynes and
Phil Simmons dug in against the opening attack of Kapil Dev and
Amarnath. Shastri and Ayub made no impression either. Ultimately, Shastri
introduced Hirwani as the fifth bowler, just as he had in the first innings.
In Hirwani’s first over, Simmons miscued a drive against the spin and
Amarnath took the catch at mid-on. After that it was a veritable procession
with the two Antiguans who had made the first-innings score look almost
respectable, this time falling cheaply. Gus Logie fighting a lonely battle at
one end, stepped out to Hirwani, misread the flight and length of the leg-
break and was stumped by Kiran More for 67. With Logie’s wicket, the
fight went out of the visitors. At 163 it was all over, and Hirwani’s figures
showed 8 for 75 from an unchanged 15.2-over spell.
Hirwani’s match figures were 16 for 136. Not only had Madras
witnessed history in the form of the best debut performance ever (bettering
Bob Massie’s feat by one run) but the match had also seen the two best
single bowling spells by a debutant.
The West Indies were understandably displeased with the spinning
track. The Indians pointed out that the track was the same for everyone and
no other bowler including Shastri and Ayub for India and Clyde Butts, the
West Indian off-spinner, had make any impression. One could easily draw
the obvious comparison with June 1972 when Bob Massie exploited the
favourable conditions at Lord’s for his 16 wickets and none of the other
bowlers were able to have the same impact. Two extraordinary bowling
performances to cherish, delivered within sixteen years of each other in a
history of Test cricket spanning over 140 years, with the bowlers taking 16
wickets each, is the kind of coincidence that makes cricket such a
wonderful sport to follow.
The bespectacled nineteen-year-old Hirwani became a national hero
overnight and comparisons to Subhash Gupte and Chandrasekhar were
already being made. It looked like the new spin messiah of Indian cricket
had finally arrived.
Sharjah and the New Zealand Series
India had to wait for nine months for its next look at its prodigal son
playing a Test match. But doting fans would not have to wait so long to see
him in action in a different format.
At Sharjah two months later, Hirwani showed that he was not merely a
single-format bowler. On flat, desert pitches that gave little help to spinners,
he picked up 10 wickets in 3 matches, a performance that won him the
Man-of-the-Series award. Later that year against Pakistan and West Indies
(again in Sharjah), he did not, however, have the same success picking up
only 4 wickets in the first match and none in the next two.
But when New Zealand came to India for a Test series in the winter of
1988, all eyes were again on Hirwani. He did not disappoint. While a repeat
performance of the kind he had put in against the West Indies was clearly
too much to expect. Over the course of a 3-Test series, Hirwani spun a web
around the Kiwis picking up 20 wickets at 19.50 apiece. It helped that 8 of
the 10 wickets earlier in the year in Sharjah had also been against the Kiwis
and clearly they had not yet figured out how to handle his guile.

Bowling Abroad e Real Test

Both Hirwani and his fans knew that the real test of an Indian spinner was
bowling on tours in unfamiliar conditions not conducive to spin. Failure
abroad had destroyed the careers of many bowlers and examples in Indian
cricket were not hard to find. Coming up for Hirwani was a series of tours
over the course of the next year to West Indies, Pakistan, New Zealand and
England. But Hirwani took heart from the fact there had also been instances
of spinners prevailing in these countries: Subhash Gupte in the West Indies,
Prasanna in New Zealand and Chandra and Maninder in England. Pakistan
had unfortunately largely been a graveyard for Indian spinners. How would
he fare?
The answer was not long in coming. The West Indies batsmen were
waiting for him to have the ball in his hand. From the first over, they went
after him. Hirwani’s figures read a sorry 6 wickets from 3 Tests at 57.50
apiece. It was as if this was a different bowler. The West Indian strategy to
hit him off his length was spectacularly successful and soon it was clear that
he was no Gupte and on wickets that were unhelpful to his style of bowling,
his bag of tricks appeared bare. The captain had no choice but to drop him
from the final Test and the selectors decided it wasn’t worth the risk of
sending him to Pakistan.
Given his dominance against the Kiwis at home, Hirwani was brought
back for the tour to New Zealand a few months later to hopefully feed off
his earlier success. This was a hope that would be in vain as he managed
only 6 wickets in 3 Tests at 51.50 apiece in a virtual repeat of the debacle in
the West Indies. The Kiwis were brutal on a bowler who had clearly not
recovered from the mauling in the Caribbean and appeared a shadow of his
former self.
Notwithstanding this performance, the selectors decided to persist
with him on the tour to England in 1990. This could always have gone two
ways, for there had indeed been Indian spinners who had succeeded in
England, from Palwankar Baloo to Vinoo Mankad to Bhagwat
Chandrasekhar and more recently Maninder Singh. But the summer of 1990
was drier than it had been in years and the residents rejoiced in the
unexpectedly long periods of sunshine.
The batsmen ran up scores they had hardly dreamt of while the
bowlers unfortunately lived through a nightmarish few months, none more
so than the toiling Hirwani who played in all 3 Tests bowling 212 overs
with only 9 wickets to show for at an average of 65.11. Anil Kumble joined
him for the last Test in a rare instance of two leggies operating in tandem
for India (October 1964 in Bombay against Australia had been the previous
such instance when Chandu Borde had turned his arm over alongside
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar), and Kumble’s Chandra-like style already seemed
better suited on unhelpful tracks. Hirwani was the highest wicket taker for
India in the series with 31 wickets in all matches at 41.29, but that was of
little comfort to someone who had been hailed as the next big thing in
Indian cricket barely two years before.

A Disappointing End to a Promising Career

Back in India later that year, Hirwani had the chance to redeem himself and
earn back his reputation against the visiting Sri Lankan side. Bowling on an
underprepared Chandigarh pitch that looked like a clone of his debut track
in Chepauk, Hirwani picked up 1 for 34 in the only innings he was required
to bowl in while Venkatapathy Raju picked up 8 wickets in the match,
including 6 for 12 in the first innings dismissing Sri Lanka for 82. Hirwani
did go to Australia with the team the next season, but in the country where
he had made a name for himself as a youngster, he found himself out of the
Test XI. He figured in the ODI series involving Australia and the West
Indies, picking up 3 wickets in the 3 matches.
Then, as Anil Kumble established himself in the team as the frontline
spinner, Hirwani was consigned to the wilderness of the domestic game for
five long years. After three seasons of excellent performances in first-class
cricket, he found himself back in the team for the rain-affected series
against New Zealand in 1995-96. It was only in the final Test at Cuttack
that he made an appearance in the XI, justifying his inclusion with a superb
performance of 6 for 59 off 31 overs, while Anil Kumble picked up only 1
wicket and Aashish Kapoor failed to bag a victim. In his first appearance in
five years, Hirwani was Man-of-the-Match.
Picked for the 1996 England tour, Kumble, now firmly the lead spin
bowler in the side, got the nod ahead of Hirwani in every Test match in
quintessential English conditions. When South Africa visited India later that
year, Hirwani found himself back in the Test side in conditions perhaps
more conducive to his style of bowling. He took 2 wickets in the first Test
at Ahmedabad, as did Kumble, while Sunil Joshi and Javagal Srinath were
the main destroyers. In the second Test at Calcutta, Hirwani was hit all over
Eden Gardens, as were all the Indian bowlers, but his shoulders drooping,
spring lacking in his step and guile and flight in short supply, it was a sign
that Narendra Hirwani was far from being the bowler he had started out to
be.
He lost his place to Aashish Kapoor for the next Test and Calcutta
1996 would turn out to be the last time cricket lovers would see Narendra
Hirwani wearing an Indian cap. In his first 4 Tests he had taken 36 wickets,
managing only 30 more in the next 13 appearances. Another flame that had
burned brightly had flickered out in a relatively short time.
When I asked Kapil Dev the reason for Hirwani fading away after
showing such promise, he was unequivocal in his response: ‘He (Hirwani)
didn’t have the strength in his shoulders, like Kumble or other spinners, that
would allow him to be successful consistently and on all kinds of wickets.
He was a throwback to the bowlers of the 1960s and couldn’t survive the
more modern game.’103
 While 66 wickets from 17 Tests at an average just above 30 is
disappointing from a man of Hirwani’s undoubted talent, India has been
lucky to have his services as a spin coach at the National Cricket Academy.
The re-emergence of wrist-spinners in recent years owes much to his talent-
spotting skills as it does to the tips he has been sharing with them, as Indian
wrist-spin once more seeks to conquer the world.
 Anil Kumble
Perfect Ten

‘It is a great feeling to complete this milestone. I would like to

dedicate it to all the players I have played with, the fielders who took
the catches, bowlers who kept the pressure from the other end and
batsmen who put big totals on board.’
—Anil Kumble, on taking his 500th wicket

In the world of gymnastics you would be hard pressed to find a person who
has not heard of Nadia Comaneci of Romania. In 1976 at the Olympic
Games in Montreal as she finished her routine, the electronic scoreboard
displayed a score of 1. A few seconds later the judges clarified that since
the electronic board could not process beyond a score of 9.99, they had
been forced to improvise in trying to give a perfect score! Comaneci had
become the first gymnast to score a ‘Perfect Ten’ in the history of the sport.
On the other hand, you would be lucky to find someone who
remembers the name of Nellie Kim from Russia. At the same Olympics,
within the next forty-eight hours, Kim became the second person to score a
Perfect Ten. The selective amnesia is hardly surprising for the world sadly
has a habit of forgetting those who come in second.
Not so in the case of Anil Kumble.
In February 1999, one billion people rose up in salutation as Kumble,
in the greatest single spell of bowling in the history of Test cricket, picked
up 10 wickets on the trot against Pakistan at Delhi. It was only fitting that
his performance took India to its first Test victory against Pakistan in
twenty years. It also did not matter that in 1956, Jim Laker had been the
first to pick up all 10 wickets in a Test match. The feat was so rare and that
Kumble’s Perfect Ten had been achieved in a single spell it made the
second time as significant and memorable as the first.

Early Days of An Unlikely Hero

Born and brought up in Bengaluru (then Bangalore), Kumble’s beginnings
were as quintessentially conservative middle-class Indian as it can get.
Before he could be a cricketer, prudence and parental wish dictated that
young Anil would have to be an engineer. So it was fated and so it
transpired. With a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering on his wall,
finally Anil Radhakrishnan Kumble could concentrate on the sport that he
had fallen in love with on that epoch-changing day of 1983 when Kapil Dev
held aloft the Prudential World Cup at Lord’s and made every Indian
believe they could conquer the world. Little did Kumble know that he
would soon share a bowling crease with his hero.
When Kumble made his Test debut for India at Manchester in August
1990, he had not even played first division league in Bangalore as his club,
Young Cricketers, was a second division side. He had only five first-class
games under his belt. At Manchester, he was part of a spin trio alongside
Narendra Hirwani and Ravi Shastri. It was indeed the first time in twenty-
six years that two leg-spinners were operating in tandem for India. The last
time this had happened was in October 1964 when Chandu Borde and
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar bowled together against Australia at Bombay.
Kumble and Hirwani both wore glasses but other than that they could
not have been more different as bowlers straddling the same genre.
Hirwani, a traditional leg-spinner, short in stature, flighted the ball and
enticed batsmen to have a go only to fall victim to their own impetuousness.
Kumble running in tall, oversized glasses and a nascent moustache
exaggerating further the concentration and determination writ large on his
face, whipped the ball in flat with only a hint of spin, and pitched it on the
proverbial coin ball after ball for the 60 overs he bowled in the match.
Coming into the Test scene as he did after a couple of traditional leg-
spinners in the form of Sivaramakrishnan and Hirwani, it was difficult for
the fans to accept Kumble as part of the same genre. India had seen a long
line of short-statured leggies but Kumble was only the second Indian to
bowl his leg-breaks, googlies and flippers from a height and use bounce
rather than flight-and-ball revolution as his potent weapons. Fortunately, the
generation that had grown up on Chandra and his unusual brand of leg-
break bowling was still around and in a position to influence the career of
this young protégé. V. Ramnarayan would adroitly point out in Third Man,
‘If there had been no Chandra, there would have been no Kumble’.
Eighteen years and 619 Test wickets later, when Kumble announced
his retirement from the highest form of the game at the very ground where
he had scored his perfect ten, he would speak about how similar yet
different the pressures had been for him and Sachin Tendulkar (they were to
play 122 Tests together) when they started their careers. ‘When Sachin
started his career, everyone said he would break all batting records and
when I started my career everyone said I would not play more than 2 Test
matches. Sachin had to spend the rest of his life proving people right while
my entire career was spent on proving people wrong.’

e ‘Perfect Ten’
The winter of 1998–99 was special for a generation of cricket fans as
Pakistan visited India for the first time in twelve years.
For once a series lived up to its hype as the first Test in Chennai went
down to the wire. At 254 for 6 in the fourth innings and 17 runs to get for a
famous win, Sachin Tendulkar, in significant pain due to a bad back and
eager to finish the innings, attempted to go for a third successive four and
got out to Saqlain Mushtaq. The Indian batting then spectacularly
unraveled, the last four wickets adding only 4 runs before the innings folded
up. Not for the first time in India’s cricket history, defeat had been snatched
from the jaws of victory.
So when the teams met at Ferozshah Kotla, there was everything to
play for. A draw would mean that Pakistan recorded their second successive
series win, having won the last Test of the 1987 series at Bangalore. The
Tests that followed had been drawn encounters. For India, that elusive first
win in twenty years beckoned.
India scored 252 in the first innings thanks largely to scores of 60, 67
and 32 from Sadagoppan Ramesh, skipper Azharauddin and V.V.S.
Laxman. Saqlain Mushtaq picked up 5 wickets for Pakistan. Kumble was
watching and would say later: ‘The pitch was a bit two-paced and we knew
that if we could keep them quiet we would be able to get them out.’ In fact,
Pakistan would only manage 172 as Kumble picked up 4 wickets and
Harbhajan Singh 3. India had moments of anxiety in the second innings
before Sourav Ganguly with a captain’s knock of 62 not out and Javagal
Srinath with a defiant 49 made sure Sadagoppan Ramesh’s brilliant 96 did
not go to waste. India finished with 339, leaving Pakistan to score 420 to
win the Test.
Azharuddin introduced Kumble early but his first 6 overs were
ineffective. At lunch, with the Pakistan openers still together with the team
score on 101, the first pangs of anxiety were evident in the Indian dressing
room.
Then two things happened that would influence the course of the
match, Kumble’s career and the trajectory of Indian cricket.
First, in an inspired coaching moment, Anshuman Gaekwad took
Azhar aside. Gaekwad recalls: ‘I had a chat with Azhar. I told him the only
person at that juncture who would go through Pakistan on the Kotla pitch
was Anil. So we had to take chances with him by making sure he did not
get tired. Azhar handled Anil tremendously well and needs to be given
credit.’ And then, in an equally inspired captaincy decision, Azhar switched
Kumble to the pavilion end.
Afridi tried to drive a ball outside the off-stump that took a faint edge
and carried to Mongia. Afridi held his ground but was finally forced to walk
off. Kumble said later: ‘Who walks? Nobody walks. It was a big nick. That
wicket started everything and I knew it wouldn’t be easy for the rest of the
batsmen.’ Kumble had the breakthrough.
Ijaz Ahmed, facing Kumble, got a ball that thudded into his boots on
the full toss at yorker speed. Inzamam, two balls and a beautiful cover drive
later, played a Kumble ball that did not spin at all, on to the stumps. Two
balls on, Yousuf Youhana was trapped in front of the middle stump.
Pakistan were 115 for 4.
While Saeed Anwar continued to defend doggedly at one end, Kumble
got a leg-break to turn and bounce to Moin Khan and Ganguly at slip took a
lovely tumbling catch inches off the ground. And then Kumble bowled a
similar delivery, but this time to the dangerous Saeed Anwar. The batsman
could only watch helplessly as the ball spooned up off his bat to Laxman at
forward short-leg. Pakistan had slumped to 128 for 6 and Kumble had 6 for
15 in 44 balls. ‘That was the moment when I thought all 10 could be mine,’
he would say later.
Kumble was dog tired by this time, having bowled continuously
between lunch and tea. The session break came exactly at the right time. By
then, Salim Malik and Wasim Akram had put on 58 runs and the Indians
were keen to break this partnership. Right after tea Kumble pitched one
short to Malik who expected it to bounce but the ball just skidded through
fast and took out his middle stump. Mushtaq Ahmed and Saqlain Mushtaq
followed Malik back to the pavilion, victims of the Kumble magic.
Kumble had now taken 9 wickets and Srinath was bowling from the
other end. Urban legend has a conversation taking place between the
captain and the bowler—‘Bowl anywhere but on the stumps,’ Azhar is said
to have told Srinath. But Srinath says: ‘Nobody had to come and tell me to
not take that remaining wicket. Anil had been bowling well and he was on
the verge of a record and it was just a unanimous decision. I had to bowl
about two to three overs from the other end before Anil got Wasim.’
Akram was well aware that Kumble wanted to give him a single and
get Waqar Younis on strike and refused to fall into that trap. It was a cat-
and-mouse game which could not last forever and eventually Akram fell to
a simple leg-break, Laxman doing the honours at short-leg, giving Kumble
his 10th wicket of the innings.
I asked Laxman whether he was nervous taking that catch. ‘I couldn’t
drop it. I would never have been able to get back to my room at the hotel.
He was my roommate you see,’ 104 he tells me with a laugh.
Kumble would say later: ‘My first reaction was that we have won. No
one dreams of taking 10 wickets in an innings.’
In an unbroken spell after lunch, Kumble had taken a stunning 10
wickets for 47 runs in 20.3 overs, becoming only the second man in history
to take all ten in an innings and the first to do so in a single spell. It would
be the moment that would define Anil Kumble’s already remarkable career.

A Career Against the Odds

There are bowlers in history who have had greatness thrust upon them, but
there has rarely been one like Anil Kumble. Taking the doubt and
skepticism directed at him for years, on his chin, Kumble turned his
unconventional bowling into a potent weapon. He honed it over the years
with equal measures of grit and determination and earned the tag of
greatness from the lips of reluctant pundits with panache.
Years before his ‘Perfect Ten’, Kumble had started silencing his
critics, one wicket at a time. Navjot Singh Sidhu says: ‘I remember
Aravinda D’Silva (former Sri Lankan great) advising his colleagues to treat
Kumble as an in-swing bowler and not worry about his spin. But credit to
Kumble that he rose to earn respect from the very same batsmen.’
Kapil Dev told me frankly: ‘When I first saw Anil Kumble, I didn’t
think he would take so many wickets. He rose above his limitations with
determination and hard work. He was one of those cricketers who would
never give up, almost at the same level as Ravi Shastri in this aspect. He
was determined to perform. As he kept playing more and our dependence
on him grew, his unorthodox approach along with his hard work and
determination helped him get the success he did. We often underestimate
the value of being unorthodox. To be a really successful spinner, you either
have to do what Kumble did or you have to be Shane Warne.’105
In 1992, Kumble had bowled for the first time in the alien conditions
of South Africa and Zimbabwe alongside the equally inexperienced Javagal
Srinath. With an ageing Kapil Dev, a tired Manoj Prabhakar and an
ineffective Venkatapathy Raju providing little support, Kumble bowled
298.5 overs and picked up 21 wickets, including 18 against South Africa.
With England due to visit India soon after, manager Keith Fletcher
arrived in Johannesburg on a clandestine mission to observe Kumble at
close quarters. His report back to his bosses read: ‘I didn’t see him turn a
single ball from leg to off. I don’t believe we will have much problem with
him.’ These were words that would haunt Fletcher forever.
Kumble took 6 wickets in the first Test at Calcutta and followed that
up with 8 at Madras and 7 at Bombay in the final Test, finishing with
twenty-one victims at 19.80 apiece. India swept the series 3-0.
In his tenth Test match at Delhi against Zimbabwe a month later,
Kumble picked up his 50th Test victim, faster to the mark than any Indian
before him.
Later the same year, in front of a hundred thousand screaming fans at
the Eden Gardens, Kumble came in to bowl in the finals of the Hero Cup,
an ODI tournament held to celebrate the Cricket Association of Bengal’s
golden jubilee. It was the first major global tournament India had hosted
and it was the only such final India would play in front of home crowds for
the next eighteen years.
Defending a modest total of 225, India knew it had its work cut out
against a line-up consisting of Richie Richardson, Brian Lara, Phil
Simmons, Keith Arthurton and Carl Hooper. At 101 for 4, West Indies
appeared to be well on their way to victory. But there was still Anil Kumble
to bowl, in conditions that he thrived on: extreme pressure on a wearing
pitch, his team’s backs against the wall, a complacent opposition looking
ahead to a victory celebration underestimating his steely resolve to halt
them in their tracks.
In a magnificent 6.1-over spell, Kumble ran through the West Indies
batting. Carl Hooper made the cardinal mistake of going back to a googly
on the stumps and saw it thud into his back pad. Roland Holder became the
first man in history given outbowled by the third umpire because the on-
field umpires were unsure if the ball had clipped the stumps or ricocheted
off the wicketkeeper’s pads. Jimmy Adams, Anderson Cummins, Curtly
Ambrose and Winston Benjamin wrapped up Kumble’s list of victims. In
the last 26 balls of his spell, Kumble had taken 6 wickets conceding 4 runs.
His full spell figures read 6 for 12.
Kumble’s first 10-wicket haul in Test cricket came in the first of the
three-match series against Sri Lanka in 1993-94. At Lucknow, in his 14th
Test, he destroyed the Lankan batting, picking up 11 wickets and helping
India win by an innings.
Through the 1990s, Indian cricket grew in stature and confidence first
under Azharuddin and then Sourav Ganguly who had inherited the reins of
the team after the match fixing events and subsequent clean up. If the ‘Fab
Four’—Sachin Tendulkar, Rahul Dravid, Sourav Ganguly and V.V.S.
Laxman—were the face of the remarkable rise of Indian cricket over the
next decade-and-a-half, Anil Kumble was the backbone.
In 2001, V.V.S. Laxman’s 281 against Australia at the Eden Gardens in
Rahul Dravid’s company changed the trajectory of Indian cricket by
imbibing the belief in one billion Indians, and every cricketer among them,
that nothing was impossible. Kumble, whose Perfect Ten had been the first
miracle of this supremely determined side, was sitting out the series with an
injury, animated before his TV set, frustrated in his failure to lead the
bowling. But a year later in Antigua in 2002, Kumble would do something
that would become as defining a moment as his Perfect Ten.
 Kumble was batting at No. 7 when a Merv Dillon delivery reared up,
hit him on the jaw and broke it. Kumble just spat out the blood and batted
on for another twenty minutes. When an X-ray was done, it was clear that
he would require surgery and the flight back to Bangalore was booked for
the following day.
When the Indian team came out to field, Kumble with his entire face
wrapped in a bandage, led the team out. He had insisted to captain Ganguly
that he would bowl. Kumble sent down 14 consecutive overs and dismissed
Brian Lara while bowling with a broken jaw.
Vivian Richards, watching disbelievingly remarked: ‘It was one of the
bravest things I’ve seen on the field of play.’ Kapil Dev agrees: ‘When you
talk about the commitment and bravery of playing with a serious injury,
Kumble’s bowling at Antigua, comes to mind.’106
Kumble would simply say: ‘At least I can now go home with the
thought that I tried my best. I didn’t want to just sit around’. The match was
finally drawn but the image of Kumble bowling to Lara with a broken jaw,
a bandage around his face holding it together, and trapping him in front of
the stumps, will forever remain one of the most iconic in the history of Test
cricket and a true reflection of the character of the man.
It is not without reason that Dilip Doshi calls Kumble: ‘One of the
greatest bowlers that has ever lived.’107

e Final Five Years

The amazing capacity of the Indian cricket administrators (and increasingly
that of the fickle fans of the game) to continually question the legitimacy of
its greatest players is truly unparalleled. It is, therefore, hardly surprising
that Kumble would also be a victim at some point despite his phenomenal
contribution to Indian cricket.
In the winter (Australian summer) of 2003-2004 when it came time to
pick the team for down under, captain Sourav Ganguly found Kumble’s
name conspicuously missing from the list being discussed at the selection
meeting. Kumble had at that point taken 358 wickets from 78 test matches.
Only Kapil Dev with 434 from 131 Test matches had taken more.
That was one of the stormiest selection meetings in Indian cricket
history. Sourav Ganguly recalls: ‘As I entered the selection meeting, I could
sense the selectors had made up their mind to leave Kumble out. I kept on
requesting and insisting that he is such a match winner, he has done so
much good for Indian cricket, he must be in Australia and the selectors just
didn’t agree. The selectors wanted to pick a left-arm spinner because
Australians don’t play left-arm spin well, and this went on for a good
couple of hours. It was getting late and John Wright (the coach) came up to
me and said, “Sourav, let’s finish this and go with what they said and I am
sure we will do well.” I told John if you leave out Anil, he may not play for
India again. I am not going to sign the selection sheet till Anil is in the side.
The selectors got fed up with me and said if I don’t play well, if the team
does not play well and if Kumble does not play well, I will be the first
person to go before anyone goes. I said, fine, I am ready to take that risk
and we will see what happens.’
Kumble would justify his captain’s faith in no uncertain manner by
taking 24 wickets in 3 Tests (10 more than Stuart MacGill, the next most
successful bowler on either side). This included 12 wickets in the Sydney
Test match, Steve Waugh’s last, almost spinning India to a series victory. In
fact, the victory would have been India’s but for two factors: a typically
dour Casabianca-like stand by Waugh as he stood alone on the burning deck
in his final innings and a few appalling umpiring decisions in the morning
that had gone against the Indians, most of them from Steve Bucknor. Justin
Langer was twice trapped in front of the wicket to balls from Ajit Agarkar
that pitched on leg stump, straightened and would have hit the middle
stump and both times Bucknor gave him not out. Murali Kartik trapped
Damien Martyn in front of middle stump right after lunch but Bucknor
again negated the appeal. These decisions and the extra time Waugh gained
for Australia eventually saved them the match and the series.
In the end the series was drawn 1-1, and India retained the Border-
Gavaskar Trophy on the strength of the 2001 series victory. Sourav Ganguly
kept his job, the selectors took due credit for their foresight and Kumble
picked up 80 wickets that year to take his tally to 444 wickets in his 92nd
Test. He had played 40 Test matches less than Kapil Dev while replacing
him as India’s highest wicket taker.
On their return from Australia, the team travelled to Pakistan. While
the Multan Test of 2004 may be best remembered for Virender Sehwag’s
magnificent 309 and stand-in captain Rahul Dravid’s still controversial
decision to declare the innings, leaving Sachin Tendulkar stranded on an
unbeaten 194, its significance went well beyond any personal landmark. It
was a historic moment in India’s seventy-two year history of playing Test
cricket.
After fifty-two years of India-Pakistan encounters, forty-nine years
after the first tour of its neighbouring country, India had her first Test
victory in Pakistan. The team had finally tasted the long elusive nectar,
emerging victorious by an innings and 52 runs. That win, notwithstanding
the huge score the Indian batsmen put up, had finally been possible only
because a certain Anil Kumble, coming back after a layoff without much
match practice, had run through the Pakistan batting in the second innings,
picking up 6 for 72 from his 30 overs.
In October that year (2004), Kumble was involved in another classic
against Australia, this time at Chennai, a drawn match which Wisden
labeled ‘The Beautiful Test’ and commented: ‘It is hard to decide which to
admire more, the seven wickets that Anil Kumble took on a first-day pitch,
or the 47 overs that he bowled in the heat of unforgiving Chennai sun
during Australia’s second innings.’
All that the Chennai surface had going for it was bounce. For Kumble,
that was enough. Harbhajan Singh, by now Kumble’s spin twin and a very
successful attacking option in his own right, had been given first crack at
the batsmen. When Kumble came in to bowl, Australia was going along
nicely having lost only 2 wickets with over 150 runs on the board. But, 17.3
overs later Kumble’s figures read 7 for 48 and Australia had been bowled
out for 235 on a first-day pitch. In the second innings a heroic 47-over
effort by Kumble in the blazing Chennai sun yielded him a 6-wicket haul,
taking his tally for the match to 13. In the end, rain would sadly rob India of
a deserved victory.
The ‘Kumble-Kotla’ love affair was not quite done yet. In December
2005 when Sri Lanka came to India, Kumble had a point to prove. Through
his otherwise brilliant career, he had largely struggled against the Lankans
and the mauling at their hands (to be fair, all the bowlers suffered equally)
in 1997 when Sri Lanka put on 952 for 6, remained fresh in his mind. Now
he had his chance at redemption on his favourite ground.
In reply to India’s 290, Sri Lanka was cruising at 175 for 2 when the
scent of Kumble magic once again wafted into the Kotla. Shortly after, the
innings had folded up for 230 and Kumble’s figures read 6 for 72. Then, in
the second innings he picked up 4 wickets and alongside Harbhajan’s 3,
bowled India to victory by 188 runs. This would be Kumble’s final 10-
wicket haul in Tests.
He did, however, have a few other significant performances left in
him. In 2006 at Mohali against England, he took 5 for 76 in the first innings
and 4 for 70 in the second to spin India to a 9-wicket victory.
Then came the captaincy.

Captaincy and Retirement

Leading the country is the dream of every sportsman and Kumble was no
different. But by the time captaincy was finally thrust upon him, Kumble
was under no illusions about the timing of the honour. He would say later:
‘I became captain after playing seventeen years for India, so probably I
became captain by default. Rahul Dravid had just relinquished the captaincy
and, at that time, it was perhaps too early for M.S. Dhoni to step in as Test
captain. Sachin (Tendulkar) also did not want it so they looked around and
said, “Okay, Anil is the only guy and let’s give it to him”.’
Kumble had played 118 Tests before he was handed the toughest job
in world cricket. He led India for 14 Tests, winning three, losing five and
drawing the remaining six. Fittingly, he began his tenure with a 1-0 series
win over Pakistan.
In November 2007, when Pakistan arrived in Delhi and faced up to
Kumble, they were perhaps reconciled to the inevitability of it all. It was
not just his record at the ground and the memory of his Perfect Ten. To top
it all, this time he was leading his team out for the first time. Fate seemed to
have conspired against Pakistan. Seven wickets including a haul of 4 for 38
in 21.2 overs in the first innings later, all that the Pakistan players could do
was applaud Kumble when he walked up to receive the Man-of-the-Match
award after India’s 6-wicket win.
Kumble also led India to a memorable victory over Australia at Perth
in the third Test in 2008 but the losses in the first 2 Tests at Melbourne and
Sydney would mean India lost the series 1-2. As captain, he would also be
thrust into the centre of the Monkeygate episode involving Harbhajan Singh
and Andrew Symonds. But his handling of the series and this episode
earned him much praise and respect. ‘Captaincy requires exceptional
character, natural leadership skills and political and the diplomatic nous that
Anil Kumble so admirably demonstrated during his challenging time in
office in Australia in 2007-08,’ Mike Coward has observed.108
Appropriately enough, as the Test match against Australia came to an
end in November 2008 at Ferozeshah Kotla, a few yards away from the
pitch he would have liked to take home with him if the curator had allowed
it, Anil Kumble announced his retirement. Hampered by injury, the thirty-
eight-year-old Kumble, having achieved all that a cricketer can ever hope to
and much more than he had ever dreamt of, quietly bade the cricketing
world farewell.
With a smile on his face, addressing all who had ever dared to doubt
him, he had one last tongue-in-cheek googly to deliver: ‘At this moment I
would like to thank my family, my parents, who gave me all the
encouragement, supported me and asked me to bowl leg-spin. Although I
am still trying to find out how I can bowl leg-spin.’

Coaching and Administration

For someone with Kumble’s tremendous drive and love for the sport, it was
never going to be easy to cut his ties with cricket, fade away into the
horizon with the camera around his neck and simply indulge his passion for
wildlife photography. Indeed, it would have been a tremendous loss to
Indian cricket if that had happened.
After leading Bangalore’s IPL team in its early days, Kumble remains
attached with the administration of the game in Karnataka. He also chairs
the ICC’s cricket committee and has been instrumental in bringing several
changes to the laws of the game in the past couple of years, including the
removal of the term ‘Mankading’ from the lexicon of the sport. He also
runs a company that seeks to help and encourage the sport at the grassroots
level.
For one memorable year, Anil Kumble was head coach of the Indian
team, a year which saw the team reach new heights in how it played the
sport. Sadly, as often happens in sport, there were differences in opinion
between captain (Virat Kohli) and coach in the functioning of the team and
Kumble tendered his resignation towards the end of his initial one-year
tenure.
 Along with his Fab Four brethren, Kumble has much to contribute to
the future, and as long as they remain involved with the sport, this fantastic
generation of gentlemen cricketers India was privileged to have, will be the
bedrock that supports the new superstructure of Indian cricket.
 Beyond Wrist-Spin
e Search Widens

‘The biggest treasure in my collection (of memorabilia from my

playing days) is the art of spinning the ball that I learnt from Bishan
Singh Bedi.’
—Sunil Joshi

While Narendra Hirwani was raising hopes that India’s cup of quality wrist-
spin would finally be refilled and Anil Kumble ensured that the appetite
whetted by Hirwani’s debut was satiated fully by his emergence as India’s
greatest wicket taker, all was not well in the other spin genres.
There had emerged no left-arm spinner in the class of Bishan Bedi or
Dilip Doshi. Maninder Singh had largely flattered to deceive. While Shivlal
Yadav had intermittently made his presence felt in the early 1980s, a true
successor to Prasanna and Venkat was yet to emerge to claim the traditional
spot in the Indian team reserved for the off-spinner.
So the late 1980s saw despairing selectors trying out a significant
number of spinners in these two genres, trying to unearth the hidden
wizards they were convinced were lurking beneath the surface of relative
mediocrity.

M. Venkataramana
Going back to India’s first great off-spinner Ghulam Ahmed, much of the
talent in this genre had emerged from the South. So it was no surprise that
the first man the selectors tried out was Margashayam Venkataramana, born
in Secunderabad, bred in Madurai and representing Tamil Nadu.
Sixty-five wickets in his first two seasons for Tamil Nadu and a
leading role in his state’s Ranji Trophy triumph in his debut season were
enough to convince the selectors to pick Venkataramana for the home ODI
series against New Zealand in 1988-1989. Playing his first international
match at Vadodara, it was only Venkataramana among the Indian bowlers
who looked like he would get a wicket against the unstoppable opening pair
of John Wright and Andrew Jones. He finally dismissed both and got his
team the vital breakthrough. New Zealand scored 278 for 3 and
Venkataramana’s figures read 2 for 36 from his 10 overs. India rattled off
the runs in just over 47 overs, thanks to a magnificent hundred from
Azharuddin and fifties from Sanjay Manjrekar and Ajay Sharma.
Despite 2 wickets in that match at an average of 18.00,
Venkataramana, in yet another unsolved mystery of Indian cricket, was
never picked again to play an ODI for India.
The following year he was in the tour party to the West Indies where
he played one Test match in Jamaica, the graveyard of many a spinner
before him, replacing an ineffective Hirwani. He took the wicket of
Desmond Haynes in the second innings. Venkataramana would say years
later: ‘It was a good tour but I think I played in the wrong Test.’ At
Trinidad, where the ball turned square from the first session, the team
management preferred Arshad Ayub and Hirwani.
Venkataramana’s Test career ended there with an unfortunate average
of 58.00. Given his talent, if he had been persisted with for a little longer,
there might have been a different ending to his story. With 247 first-class
wickets in a decade long career at an average of 29.63, Venkataramana
retired from cricket in 2000 and became head coach of the Singapore
Cricket Association, a role he stayed in for five years, guiding Singapore to
the ICC League Division Five title in 2009. He then returned to a coaching
position at the MRF High Performance Centre in Chennai and at the Sports
Medicine Centre of the Sri Ramachandra Medical Sciences (SRMC),
helping young bowlers rectify actions.

Venkatapathy Raju
By the late 1980s it was clear that Maninder Singh despite his undeniable
talent, had been a disappointment. The ensuing search for the next Bedi
now widened beyond the colourful patkas adorning the crowns of left-arm
orthodox spinners that fans had largely got used to over the past few
decades. The crosshairs finally settled on the rather less colourful figure of
Venkatapathy Raju, a left-arm spinner in the classical mould, hailing from
Hyderabad.
Early in his career, the slightly built wiry frame of young Raju earned
him the unlikely nickname of ‘Muscles’ from Brian McMillan. The name
stuck. Making his debut for Hyderabad at the age of sixteen and his Test
debut at twenty against New Zealand at Christchurch in 1990, Raju would
go on to play 28 Tests and 53 ODIs for India over a decade long career. His
93 wickets from 28 Tests at 30.72 would compare very favourably with his
more heralded predecessor Maninder’s record of 88 victims at 37.36 from
35 Tests.
For the first two years after his debut, Raju was the leading spinner in
the team. Along with Anil Kumble and Rajesh Chauhan, for a very brief
halcyon period, he made up the new Triumvirate of Indian spin. In fact,
Kumble made his debut in England alongside Hirwani in 1990 largely due
to the fact that Courtney Walsh broke Raju’s bowling hand knuckle in a
county match with Gloucestershire. It is a tribute to Raju’s tenacity and will
that he made the quick comeback that he did.
In November 1990 when India hosted Sri Lanka at Chandigarh for a
one-off Test, Indian cricket was in a low phase. The hosts had just returned
from four consecutive overseas Test series with not a single success from 14
outings. This was the first home Test in two years and the team and fans
alike were desperate for a win.
The Wisden report of the match said it all: ‘The chief architect of
India’s win was the 21-year-old orthodox left-arm spinner from Hyderabad,
Venkatapathy Raju. His nagging accuracy, genuine spin and even some
bounce, on a pitch where the ball kept disturbingly low, brought him figures
of 6 for 12 as Sri Lanka were dismissed for 82, their lowest Test score, and
8 for 37 in the match.’ Not bad for a man who had started out as a right arm
off-spinner: When Raju was eight years old, his school coach, spotting the
strength of his left throwing arm, convinced him to do the switch. It was
even better for a man bowling with a newly repaired knuckle.
 As Kumble took over the spearhead role of the Indian attack, Raju
became a part of the support cast. ‘In a way, the responsibility was less but
then the chances of being dropped were more because Anil was always
there. To fit in, you either tied one end up or you picked up wickets,’ Raju
would say philosophically.
What made the real difference, however, was that unlike Bishan Bedi
who could perform on any track, Raju’s success came largely on home
pitches which suited his bowling. Seventy-one of his 93 Test wickets were
taken at home, including 20 victims against the West Indies in 1994-95 in 3
Tests. He continued to play for a few years and his last Test, fittingly
enough, was in 2001 at the Eden Gardens when V.V.S. Laxman and Rahul
Dravid set up the scene for an unlikely victory. Young Harbhajan Singh
stepped up to snuff out the Aussie resistance in the fourth innings with a
haul of 6 for 73, helped by a decisive spell of 11 overs from Sachin
Tendulkar that yielded 3 crucial wickets. Raju’s contribution was not
insignificant, the wicket of Mark Waugh, a man who could have taken the
game away from India, trapped in front of the wicket for a duck.
Since then Raju has gone on to a coaching career and been a national
selector. He continues to nurture young Indian spin talent, striving to
unearth future wizards.

Rajesh Chauhan
Before 1988 if someone had brought up the name of Madhya Pradesh as a
side to reckon with in Ranji Trophy, they would have been laughed off the
boundary ropes. But between Narendra Hirwani and Rajesh Chauhan, this
became a reality over the next few years.
With both Arshad Ayub and Venkataramana tried and discarded, the
quest for the next offie paused at the door of Rajesh Chauhan. His ability to
extract turn and bounce on all kinds of pitches was an attractive attribute for
the selectors, given the problems Indian spinners had had overseas in the
preceding years. However, in subsequent years that very whippy action
responsible for the turn and bounce would land him in trouble and bring his
career to an end.
Making his debut against England at the Kotla in 1993, Chauhan
picked up 9 wickets in the series playing a supporting role to Kumble
alongside Raju. Achieving reasonable success in the series that followed,
Chauhan showed he could deliver abroad by picking up 5 victims in the rain
affected one-off Test against New Zealand at Hamilton. But in the
following season he was dropped after he proved ineffective against West
Indies at home.
Sadly, the selectors were watching his performance rather than the
trend line. If they had been statisticians they would perhaps have noticed
the correlation between his presence and the team record. It was not to be
scoffed at: with Rajesh Chauhan in the side, India remained undefeated in
13 consecutive Test matches and promptly lost the 14th when he was
dropped!
In 1996, discussions about his bowling action gained steam and unlike
the Sri Lankan Board who stood firmly behind Murali, the BCCI stepped
away from this battle, instructing the selectors to keep him out of contention
while he was sent to London for some corrective measures to his action.
While Chauhan was cleared in 1997, the timing of his recall to the team
almost sealed his fate.
On a pitch at the Premadasa stadium in Colombo that the Aussies
would describe as a ‘road’, India scored a massive 537 for 8 declared only
to see Sri Lanka reply with a mind-numbing total of 952 for 6. While all the
spinners suffered, debutant Nilesh Kulkarni returning figures of 1 for 195,
none could match Chauhan’s 78-8-276-1 for sheer profligacy.
But Chauhan was cut from a special cloth. Dropped after this Test he
made a comeback in the return series at home against the same Lankan side
on placid pitches and bowling in 2 Tests (of the 3 that he played in) took 8
wickets at 20.50 apiece, including a career best 7 for 107 at Mumbai.
Despite this showing, Chauhan was only fated to play two more Tests, both
against the Australian visitors which India won. His 4 wickets at 57 runs
apiece in the 2 Tests was not enough to save being replaced by the new
‘patka’ adorned man of Indian spin, Harbhajan Singh.
His career may have been at an end, neither his 47 wickets at 39.51 in
Tests nor the 29 victims at 41.93 in ODI making for flattering statistics, but
no one can take away a unique record from Rajesh Chauhan. In every one
of the 21 Tests where he was in the side, India remained unbeaten, winning
twelve and drawing nine. Few cricketers can lay claim to being a more
impactful lucky charm.

Aashish Kapoor
In the mid-1990s when Rajesh Chauhan’s action was being questioned, the
immediate beneficiary of the fallout was Aashish Rakesh Kapoor, an off-
spinner born in Madras. The circumstances of his birth in one of the main
bastions of Indian cricket had allowed him to be the beneficiary of early tips
from Venkataraghavan while a schoolboy cricketer at the Chepauk nets.
Kapoor made his debut for Tamil Nadu in 1989-90 and two years later took
28 wickets to help his state make the finals of Ranji Trophy. But with
Venkataramana firmly in the pole position as offie for the state, Kapoor
accepted an offer from Bishan Bedi to move to Punjab in the 1993-94
season. Under Bedi’s guidance his bowling improved and with 52 wickets
in the bag he helped Punjab to the title round of Ranji Trophy.
In international cricket, Kapoor’s stint was rather short
notwithstanding his domestic promise. Four Tests at home against four
different countries (West Indies, New Zealand, Australia and South Africa)
over a two-year period, yielded him a disappointing 6 wickets at 42.50
apiece. While his ODI career was spread over five years between 1995 and
2000, the returns were even poorer at 8 wickets with a staggering average
cost of 76.50. He continued playing first-class cricket until 2007 retiring
with a rich haul of 398 wickets at 31.93 apiece.
Kapoor is at the time of writing this chapter, the chairman of the All-
India Junior Selection Committee of the BCCI.

Sunil Joshi
While Maninder Singh had come closest to meeting the public yearning for
another Bishan Bedi thanks to his appearance, the emergence of Sunil
Bandacharya Joshi from the land of Prasanna and Chandra brought back
memories of the silkiness of Bedi’s action.
In a story oft repeated across the length and breadth of India, Joshi’s
rise and determination to succeed can be traced back to his early struggles
in catching a train at 4 a.m., travelling forty miles to Hubli every morning
for practice before returning to his native town of Gadag in time for school.
His first-class debut would be dramatic, the match being called off because
of the Ayodhya riots in 1992 after Joshi had scored an unbeaten 83.
Having picked up 52 wickets during the 1995-96 Ranji season and
scored 529 runs at an average of 66, Joshi found himself on the tour of
England in 1996. Making his debut at Birmingham he was inexplicably
denied any bowling during the 124 overs faced by England in the match.
Fortunately retained for the one-off Test against Australia a couple of
months later, Joshi picked up his first 2 wickets bowling alongside Kumble
and Aashish Kapoor.
For a period of ten months after his debut, Joshi found himself playing
the supporting cast for lead actor Kumble alongside whichever off-spinner
happened to be in the team at the time and meeting with mixed success.
Clearly not being a part of captain Tendulkar’s core bowling strategy, he
was dropped from the Test team at the end of this period, having taken 21
wickets from the 7 Tests where he was given a ball. He continued to appear
in ODIs but not with unqualified success.
Joshi saw his exit from the Test team and struggles in ODI as an
opportunity to improve. He approached Bishan Bedi in 1998 as many had
before him, and Bedi as always, was generous with his advice.
Joshi recalls: ‘It was Bishan Singh Bedi who boosted my morale at
that time. I was with him in Delhi for three months. He taught me the art of
spin, how to handle critical situations, discipline on and off the field and
respecting the media. Even today, if I have any problem I consult Bedi for
advice.’ The result was a transformed Joshi when he found himself back in
the team after the 1999 World Cup.
South Africa was a formidable ODI team in 1999, having played
inspiring cricket at the World Cup and unlucky not to have progressed
further. When India met South Africa in a league match at the LG Cup in
Nairobi right after the World Cup, it was expected that the Proteas would
prevail. But they had not reckoned with a revitalised Sunil Joshi.
In a magnificent spell of spin bowling, Joshi bamboozled the South
Africans, picking up the wickets of Boeta Dippenaar, Herschelle Gibbs,
Hansie Cronje, Jonty Rhodes and Shaun Pollock, giving away only 6 runs
from his quota of 10 overs. His figures of 10-6-6-5 were at the time the
third most economical analysis by anyone completing his full quota of
overs in ODIs.
One year later, against Bangladesh in their inaugural Test, he saved
India the blushes by scoring 92 to steer the side to a 29-run lead alongside
Sourav Ganguly, in response to the host’s first innings total of 400. Joshi
backed that up with match figures of 8 for 169 including his first and only
5-wicket haul in Test cricket.
 Joshi played his last match for India in 2001 and retired from first-
class cricket the same year. In 84 international matches including 15 Tests,
Joshi picked up 110 wickets at an average of 36. In a nineteen-year first-
class career, his haul was 615 wickets at 25.12.
Having retired at the age of 31, Joshi decided to become a coach,
something that he has excelled at over the past decade. Having coached
extensively in domestic cricket including assignments with Hyderabad,
Assam and J&K, he then became the coach for the Oman side before taking
on the position of spin-coach to the Bangladesh side in late 2017, a role that
has brought him accolades for the improvement in that department of the
game for his team. He continues to be grateful to Bishan Bedi for the three
months that changed his life.

Nilesh Kulkarni
It had seemed that the untiring quest for a worthy successor to Bishan Bedi
through the 1990s had ended at the Dombivli doors of Nilesh Kulkarni, a
6’4” left arm tweaker from Mumbai with a smooth and easy action. Sadly, it
would turn out to be another false dawn.
A wicket from the first delivery in Test cricket is an achievement only
eleven bowlers in the history of the game before Kulkarni could boast of.
When Kulkarni dismissed Marvan Atapattu at Colombo in 1997 off his first
ball, Indian fans sat up and took note. Unfortunately, that wicket would cost
195 runs in the infamous (from an Indian perspective) innings of 952 from
the Lankans. It would also turn out to be one of Kulkarni’s 2 wickets in Test
cricket from the 3 Tests that he played, leaving him with an unenviable
career bowling average of 166. He did rather better in the 10 ODIs he
played in his ten-month career, bagging 11 wickets at 32.45 runs each.
Kulkarni continued to toil in domestic cricket for another decade
before retiring to a career of commerce. He has since made a name for
himself in the field of sports education and event management and has also
been a selector for Mumbai.
 Harbhajan Singh ‘Turbanator’

‘I would say I am an ordinary bowler but one with a really big heart,
and that’s what has stood me in good stead in all these years.’
—Harbhajan Singh

V.V.S. Laxman’s 281 at the Eden Gardens in 2001 that helped India beat
Australia after following on, and halted the Aussie juggernaut in its tracks,
has long been recognised as the greatest Test innings ever played. But in
late 2017 at the launch of my book Spell-binding Spells, talking about that
incredible Test match, Laxman made a very important statement: ‘Yes, I
played a great innings as did Rahul but it is bowlers who win you matches,
and if Harbhajan had not taken those wickets in the two innings we would
not have won and my 281 would not have the significance it does today.’
While one can put that statement down to the modesty and greatness
of Laxman as a player and a human being, both of which are universally
acknowledged, it would be a mistake not to recognise the truth inherent in
those words. Harbhajan Singh Plaha’s 13 wickets in that match were crucial
for India. His 711 victims in international cricket bear testimony to his
rightful place in the pantheon of the great Indian spinners.

India’s Greatest Test Victory, a Hat-trick and More

Australia had always been a good Test side but under Steve Waugh it had
become an almost impossibly successful team. Soon, it was drawing
favourable comparisons with Bradman’s 1948 Invincibles and Clive
Lloyd’s West Indies side of the 1970s and ‘80s. Coming into the 2001 series
against India, the team had won 15 straight Tests, an incredible
achievement. After the 10-wicket victory within three days in the first Test
match at Mumbai, the string of wins had increased to 16. Adam Gilchrist,
whose career thus far was 15 Tests long, had never experienced anything
but victory. Nothing, it seemed could stop the juggernaut.
When Steve Waugh won the toss on a beautiful Eden Gardens pitch
and chose to bat Sourav Ganguly, captaining the team on his home ground,
prepared for the inevitable long hours of chasing the cherry. With opener
Matthew Hayden still at the crease, and 193 runs later with only Michael
Slater back in the hut, Ganguly’s worst fears were beginning to come true.
Journalist Dileep Premachandran once said about the Eden Gardens:
‘Nothing prepares you for Eden Gardens, for the wall of sound and the
collective sullenness when things are not going as planned.’ Ganguly knew
that silence of collective sullenness better than anyone else.
Then came the break in the clouds.
Twenty-year-old Harbhajan Singh had made his debut as an exciting
teenaged off-spinner against the same opponents more than two years
before, managing only 2 wickets for 136 runs. In 8 Tests since, he had taken
21 wickets with largely unimpressive performances. He had been out of the
team for about eighteen months and was making a comeback in this series
as a replacement for Anil Kumble, sitting out because of a shoulder surgery.
All day Hayden had been his brutal self out in the middle. But just 3
runs away from his century, Hayden stepped out to Harbhajan for an
expansive stroke right after tea, miscued a shot and saw the catch gleefully
accepted by substitute Hemang Badani. Zaheer Khan then got Justin Langer
to edge a ball to keeper Nayan Mongia. From that point on it was all
Harbhajan Singh.
Mark Waugh edged one behind and this brought in Ricky Ponting,
with Australia at 252 for 4. The advantage was clearly with the visitors.
Tentative at the start of his innings, Ponting missed the line of a stock ball
from Harbhajan and was trapped in front. Adam Gilchrist failed to read the
first ball he faced. It went through a bit faster and hit him on the back leg.
Harbhajan had 2 wickets in 2 balls. Shane Warne walked in.
Steve Waugh, watching helplessly from the non-strikers end, walked
up to Warne and advised him to step forward and put bat to ball. Warne
followed the advice only to see the ball safely into the hands of Sadagoppan
Ramesh at forward short-leg. Harbhajan Singh had taken the first hat-trick
by an Indian bowler in Test cricket.
Despite Harbhajan’s heroics Australia went on to score 445 and then
dismissed India for 171, only V.V.S. Laxman standing tall. Such was the
difference between Laxman and the rest of the batting that when it was
obvious India was going to follow on, coach John Wright asked Laxman to
keep his pads on and go back in at No. 3 in the second innings. History is
testimony to the genius of that decision. Playing an innings blessed by the
cricketing gods, Laxman went on to score 281 and in the company of Rahul
Dravid who piled up 180, took India to a mammoth 657 for 7 declared.
With 374 to get for an unlikely victory, the Aussies started well
putting on 74 for the first wicket. But Harbhajan was back in the act,
dismissing Michael Slater. Soon, Australia was struggling at 166 for 5, four
of them victims of Harbhajan’s spin on a fifth-day pitch. And then Sachin
Tendulkar joined the party.
In his 21 Test innings leading up to Calcutta 2001, Gilchrist had
scored 2 centuries and 7 fifties. Only once had he suffered the ignominy of
a duck—against India at Adelaide. Now, trapped in front by Tendulkar in
the second innings, a stunned Gilchrist had a king pair. Tendulkar then got
the danger man Matthew Hayden and finally Shane Warne. Harbhajan
dismissed Gillespie and McGrath to wrap up the innings.
In any other context, Harbhajan’s match figures of 13 for 196,
including a hat-trick, would have earned him a Man-of-the-Match award. In
this instance, there was no denying Laxman’s claim.
In the next Test at Chennai, Harbhajan went one better, picking up 15
wickets for 217 sending down 80 overs in the match as India won the series,
stopping the Steve Waugh juggernaut in its tracks. This time he was the
undisputed man of the match. It was also only natural that for his 32
wickets at 17.03 each in the series, Harbhajan would also deservedly be
declared the Man-of-the-Series.

First the Peak, then the Trough

In a pattern that had been repeated from Harbhajan’s debut, the magnificent
showing against Australia would be followed by disappointing
performances. Recalled to the ODI side following the Test series, he took
only 4 wickets at 59.25. In the triangular tournament that followed in
Zimbabwe, he took 2 wickets at 69 in four matches and was finally dropped
from the team. His woes continued into the Test series against Zimbabwe,
yielding only 8 wickets at just below 30 runs each.
It got even worse on the spinning tracks in Sri Lanka. There he
managed 4 wickets in 3 Tests at 73 runs each, while Muralitharan snared 23
Indian victims on the same pitches. Finally, the selectors had had enough
and recalled Anil Kumble to the Test side. The romance with ‘the
Turbanator’ (as the western press had by now nicknamed Harbhajan) was at
an end, at least for the moment.
In the ODI space, Harbhajan continued to enjoy some success taking 9
wickets at 20.44 in 6 matches at an economy rate of 3.53. He won his first
Man-of-the-Match award in an ODI against South Africa in Bloemfontein
for his spell of 3 for 27.
A finger injury sidelined Harbhajan for a period between 2003 and
2004 and Kumble again became the tweaker of choice in the Indian team.
Even when Harbhajan recovered, he found his services required primarily
when Test matches were played in the subcontinent. During this period,
even when he got chances, his bowling, with its new flatter trajectory, had
lost its bite. As the flight decreased, his bowling average rose almost in
proportion.
A few recalls to the ODI team followed, but his efforts in the 2007
World Cup and against Pakistan and Australia were largely unsuccessful. In
the 2008 tour of Australia, he played in three of the four Tests taking just 4
wickets at 61.25 but found himself in the midst of a controversy (the
‘Monkeygate’ episode detailed later in the chapter) that almost resulted in
the breaking of cricketing relationship between the two nations. In between,
Harbhajan was a crucial cog in the wheel as India won the inaugural T20I
World Cup under the leadership of Mahendra Singh Dhoni.

Courting Controversy e Harbhajan Way

Coming into the limelight at a young age, just like his turbaned predecessor
Maninder, and given the challenge he faced in this period, Harbhajan could
easily have gone Maninder’s way: another enormously talented teenager
wasting his potential and ending up as an underachiever. It was to his
enormous credit that he didn’t do so and managed to bounce back from
every hole he found himself in (many of them self-created) and emerge
stronger. But before the rebirth would come, the descent into the sinkhole
came.
The first challenge came early in his career when he was called by the
umpire for bending his arm beyond the legitimate limit (of fifteen degrees)
in 1999. He was just nineteen and had made his debut against Australia
barely a year before.
Chucking, off-spin, Australia: this was a potent triumvirate. A step
back in history is perhaps in order here.
In 1995-96 at the Boxing Day Test, Sri Lanka’s Muttiah Muralitharan
had been no-balled seven times by umpire Darrell Hair for chucking. Ten
days later umpire Ross Emerson no-balled him again during an ODI.
Subsequent tests conducted in Australia showed that his elbow could not
straighten due to a congenital problem and it created the illusion of Murali
chucking the ball. Murali was cleared to play on.
In 1999, Ross Emerson standing at square leg called him again in an
ODI being played between England and Sri Lanka at Adelaide. Captain
Arjuna Ranatunga took his players off the field and Sri Lanka threatened to
go back home. The ICC intervened and following the controversy, Emerson
never umpired another international match.
So later that year (1999) when Harbhajan was called by the umpires
for the same reason, he had every reason to be worried. India had always
boasted spinners with smooth bowling actions. Bishan Bedi, the man with
perhaps the most beautiful spin bowling action in history, had called (and
continues to call) Murali a ‘javelin thrower,’ and colleagues and later
spinners I spoke to had no hesitation in labelling the famous Jasu Patel a
chucker (it is not widely known that Patel had an arm that had not fully
straightened from a fall off a tree when he was young). So there was little
chance the Indian establishment would stand behind the young spinner on
this issue. Fortunately, the ICC did not pursue the matter at the time.
Five years later in 2004 when Harbhajan was a different bowler and at
the peak of his wicket taking abilities, he was reported again while bowling
his nigh unplayable ‘doosra’ (the other one) against Bangladesh at
Chittagong and then a few months later while bowling against Pakistan at
Kolkata, both times by match referee Chris Broad but after the match and
not during it. This time he was asked to take corrective action and managed
to show that the angle of his elbow was within the legally permissible
fifteen-degrees law. For the record, he was never actually called in a match
or banned.
This did not, however, prevent the plain-speaking Bedi from telling
The Sunday Age in December 2007: ‘This is cricket’s greatest tragedy.
Match-fixing was disgraceful but no one knew about it so nothing could be
done. Throwing is being allowed to happen in front of 30,000 and 40,000
people. Chucking is a bigger disgrace than match-fixing because it is done
out in the open. It is the scourge of cricket and must be stopped. Harbhajan
is also surviving on the fifteen-degree allowance. They’re having a ball,
these bowlers. And young bowlers on the subcontinent are coming through
and they are copying the actions of Harbhajan and Muralitharan. These
boys will be Test cricketers one day and the ICC is going to have a hell of a
problem,’ he said.
David Frith has been watching spinners bowl for about seven decades
and his comment to me about Harbhajan is telling: ‘I must say I was never
comfortable with his bowling action.’109
Notwithstanding Bedi and Frith’s views on the matter, Harbhajan was
never reported after this and the most notable bowler to be banned in the
decade that followed was Pakistan’s off-spinner Saeed Ajmal, all three of
whose variations were found to be delivered with an arm bent beyond
fifteen degrees. By this time Ajmal had taken 284 international wickets in
the preceding three years, 59 more than Dale Steyn, the next man on the
list. Many of these were victims of the illegally bent arm.
As soon as the ICC had cleared his action for the second time,
Harbhajan found himself in the limelight for an altogether different reason.
Once again, this involved the Australians.
In January 2008 at Sydney, while he was batting alongside Tendulkar,
Harbhajan exchanged some words with Andrew Symonds. Ricky Ponting,
ignoring an apology accompanied by a request from Indian captain Anil
Kumble to sort the issue out between the teams, lodged a complaint after
the day’s play accusing the Indian of making racist remarks. The Aussies
claimed Harbhajan had called Symonds a ‘monkey’ which to them was an
unacceptable racist remark. Harbhajan denied this and claimed (and
Tendulkar later backed him up being the only other Indian on the field at the
time) that in the heat of exchanging words with Symonds, he had used a
Hindi expression ‘teri maa ki…’, which, while being abusive, wasn’t racist.
Harbhajan was banned for three matches.
 The Indian team protested against this but even more vehemently
against match referee Mike Procter, a South African, making the statement
that he ‘was satisfied beyond reasonable doubt’ that Harbhajan had made a
racist remark. To add fuel to the fire, Procter went on to say that: ‘I believe
that one group was telling the truth,’ thus clearly insinuating that Tendulkar
and the Indians were lying. Following an appeal by the team and BCCI, an
independent hearing led by New Zealand High Court judge John Hansen
was held. The judge did not believe the charge of racism was proven and
found Harbhajan guilty of the lesser offence of ‘abuse not amounting to
racism’.
Australian wicketkeeper Adam Gilchrist, writing in his autography a
few years later, suggested that Tendulkar was lying because he had said
nothing to Mike Procter and yet confirmed the Hindi abuse to Judge
Hansen. He also questioned Tendulkar’s sportsmanship. Tendulkar
responded by saying, ‘Those remarks came from someone who doesn’t
know me enough. I think he made loose statements…’
Writing about the issue in his Cricket Conflicts and Controversies,
Australian cricket writer and historian Kersi Meher-Homji remarks: ‘This
hullabaloo would have been avoided had Ponting accepted Kumble’s
apology on the third day of the Test and not reported this incident to the
match referee. After all, Australian cricketers are not shrinking violets when
it comes to sledging their opponents.’
He could well have also reminded us that until as recently as 1966, the
Australian constitution did not recognise the aboriginals who had been
around for 50,000 years. The aboriginals were arguably the only original
Australians and they were kept in reservations and out of mainstream
society. Former fast bowler Jason Gillespie continues to be the only
cricketer of aboriginal descent to play Test cricket for Australia. The
pendulum on racism had evidently swung 180 degrees.
Ten years later, the average Australian still believes that Harbhajan did
make the racist remark while most Indians continue to be flummoxed about
how being called a monkey can be racist (assuming Harbhajan had indeed
done so) when it has no racial connotations in Indian society whatsoever.
Explosive as the issue was, life (and cricket) went on between the two
countries. In the end one has to accept that cricket is a global sport and, off
and on, cultural differences like this are bound to crop up. It is perhaps just
best to move on.
 As if this was not enough, Harbhajan was again in the news a few
months later, this time during IPL 2008 for slapping Indian teammate S.
Sreesanth, India’s opening bowler at the time. Sreesanth, playing for Kings
XI Punjab and Singh for the Mumbai Indians faced off after the game.
Harbhajan was banned for the rest of the tournament while Sreesanth was
let off with a warning after disciplinary proceedings. The BCCI also
suspended Harbhajan from the ODI team after the incident.

e Resurrection of Harbhajan Singh

In yet another bizarre twist in the circus that is Indian cricket (which by
now will perhaps be unsurprising to the reader of this book), after this
period when Harbhajan had performed less than credibly on the cricket field
and courted controversies that got him banned and sent the world of cricket
into a tizzy, he was conferred the Padma Shri, India’s fourth highest civilian
honour, in 2009.
Be that as it may, this period began what must go down as a
remarkable turnaround in the fortunes of Harbhajan the bowler. It started on
the Sri Lanka tour in July-August 2008 when he took 16 wickets in 3 Tests
at 28.12 apiece and followed that with 6 wickets at 18.83 from 4 ODIs. In
the Test series at home against Australia that followed, he was the leading
wicket-taker picking up 15 wickets at 28.86 each and also scored 125 runs
at an average of 41.66 helping India avoid two defeats with his batting.
During this series he also picked up his 300th Test match wicket and, with
the retirement of Anil Kumble, took on the mantle of leading India’s spin
attack.
Visiting New Zealand in 2009, Harbhajan picked up 16 wickets in the
Test series and 5 victims in 2 ODIs, helping India win the series. It was the
first time the team had won a Test series in the country since Tiger Pataudi’s
squad had brought back the first overseas trophy for Indian cricket in 1968.
When Sri Lanka and then South Africa came to India a few months
later, Harbhajan’s 23 wickets at 31 apiece seemed to signal that he had
finally come through several false starts to emerge as Kumble’s true
successor as the official spin wizard of the team. This impression was
further supported by his haul of 23 at a respectable average of 31.00 a year
later when Australia and New Zealand visited.
 But this form, as it had been through his career, was not merely
transient but often inexplicably absent. Between these home seasons, in
Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, playing a total of 3 Tests Harbhajan’s haul on
spin-friendly pitches was a mere 4 wickets at horrendous averages of 61.50
and 152.00 respectively.
Visiting South Africa in 2010-11, Harbhajan once again exhibited
glimpses of the bowler India expected him to consistently be. In the first
Test at Centurion, bowling his heart out as the lone spinner, he took the first
2 wickets but India was blown away by a magnificent unbeaten 201 from
Jacques Kallis and lost by an innings. In a low scoring second Test at
Durban, Harbhajan bowled magnificently, delivering a first-innings spell of
7.2-2-10-4 helping India win the match by 87 runs.
It was for the third Test, sadly a drawn encounter, that Harbhajan
delivered his best. Bowling 38 overs, his haul of 7 for 120 was his third-
best career bowling figure.

e End of a Mercurial Career and New Beginnings

His 15 wickets in the South Africa series, understandably, led to the
conclusion that at last Harbhajan was back at his best after a decade. But a
stomach injury sustained on the disastrous tour of England in 2011 when
M.S. Dhoni’s team lost 0-4, seemed to be a turning point in his career. He
found himself out of the tour squad to Australia in 2011-12 and briefly
recalled for 3 Tests at home against England and Australia. His haul was 7
wickets at over 41 runs apiece.
Recalled for the final time three years later, Harbhajan played a total
of 3 Tests against Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. The haul of 4 wickets would,
however, not be enough to revive his career with Ravichandran Ashwin and
Ravindra Jadeja having performed consistently and taken on the two
available spin slots in the team.
Two months later in October 2015 Harbhajan played his final ODI
picking up 2 for 50 against South Africa at Mumbai. Six months on at
Dhaka, his international career came to an end with a T20I against the UAE
and figures of 1 for 11 from the allotted 4 overs.
In late 2017, Harbhajan retired from first-class cricket but continues to
appear in the IPL.
 When he looks back at an international career spanning eighteen years
and a rich haul of 711 wickets (one every 69 balls in Tests, every 46 balls in
ODI) to show for it, the boy from Jalandhar who started out as a batsman
and became one of India’s spin wizards, must take enormous pride in what
he has achieved.
Could Harbhajan have achieved more if he had not attracted
controversy at every turn? Perhaps. But notwithstanding the hiccups, his
contribution to Indian cricket has been significant and his record puts him
high in the list of Indian spinning greats. With 2 Test centuries, 9 fifties, and
3,569 international runs against his name, his competence as a batsman,
particularly late in his career, was an added bonus for the team, something
very few of his predecessors could boast of.
At the age of thirty-eight, Harbhajan has just embarked on a new
career as a commentator. While he may sound suave, mature and more
diplomatic in his approach now than during his playing days, the penchant
for attracting controversy and speaking his mind will undoubtedly ensure
that cricket fans continue to be entertained by the Turbanator for years to
come.
 e Breakthrough Wizards

‘Cricketers like Sachin come once in a lifetime, and I am privileged

he played in mine.’
—Wasim Akram

Sachin Tendulkar
Eden Gardens, November 1993

The late winter evening haze hung lazily over the ground, the powerful
floodlights working overtime, and India was on the ropes, facing the
prospect of not making the finals of Cricket Association of Bengal’s (CAB)
Golden Jubilee tournament, the Hero Cup, the first international tournament
to be held on Indian soil.
The day had not started well for the hosts. At 53 for 3, when captain
Mohammad Azharuddin strode out to the middle with Sachin Tendulkar
back in the hut, the prospects looked bleak.
Just as posterity would deem Kotla to be a part of the Kumble family
jewels, Azhar unequivocally owned Eden Gardens for life. ‘Quite a few
times Eden had saved my career. I would not be sitting here had it not been
for Eden,’ Azhar would tell a reporter a couple of decades later. But even
Azhar’s defiant 90, when eight of his teammates failed to get to double
figures, was only enough to take India to a below-par score of 195.
The Indians bowled well, but at the end of the 49th over of the South
African innings, the visitors were 190 for 8, needing 6 runs to win. The
writing seemed on the wall, and the shoulders of the Indians were dropping.
Kapil Dev, Azharuddin and Tendulkar gathered in the middle to have an
animated discussion. Kapil, Manoj Prabhakar, Salil Ankola and Javagal
Srinath, all had overs left. But to everyone’s surprise, Azhar handed the ball
to Tendulkar, a man who had not bowled an over thus far in the match.
Salil Ankola said, ‘I was standing in the deep and I don’t know exactly
what the conference among the Indians was all about. But it seems Tendlya
(Sachin Tendulkar) was keen to bowl the last over. There was lot of dew on
the wicket and Tendlya is very difficult because he bowls all kinds of
deliveries.’ Azhar added: ‘My teammates told me to try someone different.
I thought any bowler would anyway give five runs and said if this works,
it’s great and if it doesn’t, I will take the brunt. I was facing it anyway.’
Brian McMillan thumped the first ball into deep cover. One run was
always there, but his partner Fannie de Villiers was run out by Ankola,
trying to steal a second. The next two balls were defended by Alan Donald,
and the third went through to the keeper. Tendulkar kept it tight and South
Africa just could not get him away for more than three runs in the over. As
Tendulkar said: ‘I bowled mainly slow leg-cutters in that over, taking out all
the pace. The South African batsmen struggled to hit me, maybe because
they didn’t know what to expect from my bowling.’110
India won and went through to the final where they would beat West
Indies to win their first major ODI tournament since the 1983 World Cup.
He had not taken a wicket, but in stepping up to be counted when the
team needed something extraordinary and bowling one of the most
remarkable final overs in ODI cricket, 20-year old Sachin Tendulkar had
shown, not for the first time and not for the last, that his role in the team,
went well beyond being its best batsman.

Mr Breakthrough
Notwithstanding his batting exploits as a child prodigy, Sachin Tendulkar’s
first love was bowling. In 1987, at the MRF Pace Academy, Dennis Lillee
had had to gently tell the tiny 14-year-old prodigy that his real calling lay
with the willow and not the leather. With that one kind act, Lillee unleashed
a little tornado that would shake the world of bowlers as none had done
since the retirement of Don Bradman in 1948.
 In a bizarre twist of fate, what that rejection would also do was make
Tendulkar aware of his gifts with the ball, which actually lay in spin rather
than pace.
Over the course of a long career, there would be many instances when
captains threw the ball to Sachin, in hope, in desperation, and often by
design. Rarely did he disappoint.
154 of Sachin’s 201 international wickets would come in ODIs, most
of them providing vital breakthroughs. In a reflection of how much he
wanted to contribute to the team cause, many of these performances came
in matches, including the Hero Cup semi-final, after he had failed with the
bat.
Five years after his heroics in the Hero Cup, India found itself with its
back to the wall after setting the Australians a target of 310 to get at Kochi.
India had only got to that total thanks to a brilliant unbeaten 105 in 109
balls from Ajay Jadeja and knocks of 82 and 57 from captain Azharuddin
and Hrishikesh Kanitkar respectively.
At 203 for 3 in the 32nd over, with Steve Waugh’s largely invincible
Australia cruising at almost seven runs an over, Sachin got into the act. In
an inspired spell, he took the wickets of Steve Waugh, Darren Lehmann,
Michael Bevan, Tom Moody and Damien Martyn to break the back of the
famed Aussie batting and helped dismiss them for 268. Not for the last
time, Sachin’s Man-of-the-Match award was for his spin bowling. A fan,
Mohan Jacob, sitting in the stands enthralled that day, recalls: ‘I recall every
one of those wickets that fell to Sachin. What I remember even more is that
as soon as Steve Waugh was out, the noise at the ground rose to something
else altogether.’111
Seven years later, Kochi would again be the venue for Sachin to
express himself with the spinning ball. The victim this time was Pakistan.
By this time, Sourav Ganguly was captain and Sachin was an integral part
of the bowling unit.
When Sourav Ganguly had taken over the captaincy of the Indian
team, not only had he inherited the aftermath of the match-fixing scandal,
but he also had the unenviable task of rebuilding a team with some of its
mainstays like Azharuddin and Ajay Jadeja making their exits. It was a time
to think out of the box and maximize the resources at his disposal. Sachin
was integral to this plan.
 While both Kapil Dev and Azharuddin had recognised the value of
players who were not picked as frontline bowlers but could turn their arm
over effectively, it was Ganguly who made it into a mainstream selection
criteria. As Deep Dasgupta tells me, ‘Sourav was big on players who could
bat and bowl. Also, at that point in time the bowling attack was not as
potent as now, so he had to use the resources he had at his disposal.’112
As Kirmani adds about this period: ‘Sachin and Sehwag were utilised
to change bowling ends for regular bowlers, to distract well-set batsmen,
and break a well-set partnership. In the process both were successful in
taking wickets. Moreover, (because of their) part-time effective leg- and
off-spin, an extra specialist player could be included in the team.’113
At Kochi, on the back of centuries from Virender Sehwag and Rahul
Dravid, India scored 281 for 8. Tendulkar failed with the bat, managing
only 4. By the 25th over of the Pakistan innings, with the visitors at 112 for
4 and Inzamam and Mohammad Hafeez at the crease, the Sachin Tendulkar
show began. He picked up Inzamam, Hafeez, Abdul Razzaq, Shahid Afridi
and Mohammad Sami, finishing with 5 for 50. As Chinmoy Jena put it:
‘Pakistan were already in trouble and Sachin simply put the last nail on
Pakistan’s coffin.’114
But Sachin’s impact was far from being limited to white ball cricket.
His contributions with the ball are as significant in Test matches,
particularly in one of the most crucial epoch-defining Test matches in
Indian cricket history.
In the previous chapter we looked at Harbhajan Singh’s contribution to
(arguably) India’s greatest Test victory, in 2001 at the Eden Gardens. While
it is true that but for Laxman’s 281 and Dravid’s 183 India would not even
have been in a position of strength, and it was Harbhajan’s wickets that put
pressure, the hammer for driving the nails into the Aussie box rested firmly
in the hands of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.
With 374 to get in the final innings for a victory, Australia found
themselves at 166 for 5. The Indian party had been kicked off by Harbhajan
Singh, but now Sachin pumped up the music.
When Harbhajan dismissed Ponting, Gilchrist joined Matthew Hayden
at the crease. Gilchrist had two centuries and seven fifties in his 21 innings
prior to this Test match, so despite his first ball failure in the first innings,
the Aussie chase was far from over. One ball later, it was. Going back to a
Tendulkar delivery, Gilchrist was wrapped on the pad and walked back to
the hut with a king pair.
Jason Gillespie may be the only nightwatchman in the history of
cricket to score a double century, but that was five years in the future
(against Bangladesh at Chittagong in 2006), and on that day in March 2001,
Hayden at the other end wasn’t filled with confidence when ‘Dizzy’
Gillespie walked in. In trying to retain the strike and work Tendulkar
around, a few balls later, Hayden departed in the same manner as Gilchrist.
When Shane Warne became Tendulkar’s third and final LBW victim,
unable to read a beautiful googly, the Aussie resistance had been broken
and it was left to Harbhajan to wrap up the tail and hand Indian her greatest
Test victory.
Questions have been asked about why Sachin did not bowl more. Was
it just his injuries, or was it perhaps the captains after Azhar and Ganguly
who failed to recognise the value of his bowling? That question will
probably remain unanswered given how reticent Sachin chooses to be on
such issues. What has never been in doubt is the quality of his spin that
could have put him at par with many specialists of the art who played for
India.
The best tribute to Sachin’s bowling undoubtedly came from V.
Ramnarayan when he wrote in ESPN Cricinfo in 2013: ‘As a part-time
bowler, he (Tendulkar) has an enviable bag of tricks, which in his youth, he
unfurled with undisguised glee, turning matches on their heads more often
than not. The greatest all-round cricketer of all time? I believe Tendulkar
might have run Garfield Sobers close for that honour, had he persisted with
his bowling magic throughout his career. Even Sir Garry’s versatility might
have paled in comparison had the little big man continued to bamboozle
batsmen with the amazing variety in his arsenal.’

Virender Sehwag
Virender Sehwag may not have had Sachin’s versatility, but his off-spin was
India’s saviour on more occasions than one would have thought possible.
Even in a team that more often than not had the services of Harbhajan
Singh and Anil Kumble, when a crucial breakthrough was needed, captains
would often throw the ball to the man from Najafgarh. Forty Test victims
and 96 dismissed opponents in ODI bear testimony to Sehwag’s bowling
prowess.
The first hint that Sehwag could be an impactful bowler came before
the Australians had left Indian shores in 2001 after losing the Test series. In
the first ODI played at Bangalore, Sehwag walked in at 122 for 1 and hit his
maiden fifty in his fourth match for India, as the team scored 315. The
Australians were cruising along at 174 for 3 in the 27th over when Ganguly
threw the ball to Sehwag.
For anyone who had followed Sehwag’s career upto that point, this
was hardly surprising. As Deep Dasgupta reminded me: ‘Viru came into the
team as an off-spinning lower middle order bat, and was not really a part-
time bowler, but a regular one in his first few years. It was a time when
Indian spin bowling was in transition. Rajesh Chauhan had stopped playing,
Venkatapathy Raju was on his last stretch, Harbhajan was new and Anil
(Kumble) was injured.’115
Matthew Hayden on 99 didn’t read the delivery and was trapped in
front of the wicket. Damien Martyn edged a Sehwag drifter to wicketkeeper
Dahiya in the next over, and two overs later it was the turn of Steve Waugh
to meet Hayden’s fate. In his first four overs, Sehwag had broken the
camel’s back. He would finish with figures of 3 for 59 in his nine overs as
the Australians were all out for 255.
Seven years later at the Kotla, it was the Australians again who faced
up to Sehwag’s guiles with the ball, this time in a Test match. It was Anil
Kumble’s farewell match, but on a less than helpful pitch, in the
background of a high-scoring match (India scored 613 for 7 declared in the
first innings and Australia replied with 577), it was only Sehwag the bowler
who found purchase.
In a magnificent display of off-spin bowling, Sehwag sent down 40
overs and picked up 5 wickets giving up only 104 runs. His victims?
Matthew Hayden, Michael Hussey, Ricky Ponting, Shane Watson and
Cameron White. The ball that dismissed Ponting showed Sehwag’s skills as
a spinner—it was full and outside off, inviting the batsman to drive. Ponting
went for it and missed as the ball spun in and hit the stumps. Hussey was
bowled by one that beat his defence with the turn.
An iconic Sehwag moment that remains in memory is in the unique
‘bowl out’ that decided the winner of the India-Pakistan encounter at the
first T20 World Cup. India scored 141 in the allotted 20 overs and Pakistan
managed exactly the same score in their 20. Bowlers from both sides would
aim for unguarded wickets and the team that hit the wickets the most times
would win the match.
Young captain M.S. Dhoni, leading the country for the first time,
showed the faith he had in Sehwag the bowler by throwing the ball to him.
Sehwag did not disappoint by knocking the stumps down, and Harbhajan
Singh and Robin Uthappa followed suit. The Pakistanis missed all three
attempts, India won the match, and would eventually become the first world
T20 champions.
Sadly, India would soon be deprived of the services of Sehwag the
bowler, as a shoulder injury eventually forced him to concentrate only on
his batting. But before that could happen, he had one last memorable
performance in store. In 2010, at the Asia Cup in Dambulla, with
Bangladesh at 155 for 4 in the thirtieth over and Mushfiqur Rahim at the
crease, it looked like a fighting total was on the cards. This was when
Sehwag was handed the ball by Dhoni. Three Sehwag overs later it was all
over. Bangladesh was all out for 167 and Sehwag’s figures read 4 wickets
for 6 runs in 2.5 overs.

Yuvraj Singh
In the years that followed, there would be other batsmen whose skills with
the spinning ball were used to good effect. Although none of them were
quite in the class of a Tendulkar or Sehwag as spinners, they did earn their
moments in the sun, and none more so than Yuvraj Singh.
India’s second successful World Cup campaign in 2011 would
arguably have been an unfulfilled one but for the performance of Yuvraj
Singh. Quietly battling lung cancer, Yuvraj put aside the breathing
difficulty, the nausea and the bouts of vomiting during the toughest
competition in cricket and emerged as the Man-of-the-Series. In the
process, he picked up fifteen wickets and became the first man in a World
Cup to score 50 and take five wickets in the same match. Mukul Kesavan,
writing in ESPN Cricinfo would capture the essence of Yuvraj Singh best
by labeling him a ‘latter-day Salim Durani’. A year later, Yuvraj would
make an unexpected and inspiring return to the national side with dazzling
domestic performances, after bravely and successfully battling the cancer
that seemed to have ended a promising career at its zenith.
 Between the abiding memory of the successful 2002 Natwest Trophy
chase alongside Mohammad Kaif, his six majestic sixes in one over off
Stuart Broad in the 2007 T20 World Cup (possibly the most watched
YouTube cricket video in India of the last decade), and the 2011 World Cup
performance which was the icing on the cake of his glittering career, Yuvraj
the bowler had significant impact on many Indian ODI victories, a couple
of which merit re-telling.
In 2008, a strong English touring side met a young Indian team led by
M.S. Dhoni for an ODI at Indore’s Holkar stadium. Unlike Tendulkar,
whose most inspired bowling performances, perhaps entirely coincidentally,
came in the second innings of matches following his failure with the bat in
the first, Yuvraj’s dramatic impact with the ball, although less frequent,
showed no such correlation.
Yuvraj’s 118 in 122 balls in India’s innings along with Gautam
Gambhir’s 70, helped India make 292 for 9. When England batted, at 102
for 1 and Kevin Pietersen, Freddie Flintoff and Ravi Bopara to come in, it
looked like the total would be easily chased down. Then Yuvraj got into the
act. Bowling the full 10-over quota, he picked up 4 for 28, dismissing Matt
Prior, Owais Shah, Pietersen and Flintoff, and England were dismissed for
238.
Six years earlier at Lord’s, with England at 201 for 2 and India facing
a huge total in the 50-over game, Sourav Ganguly turned to his
breakthrough man. With three rapid strikes, Yuvraj dismissed Nassir
Hussain, Flintoff and Graham Thorpe to restrict England to 271 and
returned figures of 3 for 39 in 7 overs. He then strode out with the bat and
scored an unbeaten 64 in 65 balls, taking India to victory alongside Rahul
Dravid, with more than an over to spare.
An orthodox left-arm spinner by genre, Yuvraj’s impact came not from
his flight or guile but largely from his ability to surprise batsmen with his
unpredictability. A packed off-side field to a right-hand batsman could well
mean that the chances of a stock ball on the off and middle were exactly as
much as fast arm ball on the leg stump. On helpful pitches, his ability to use
the pitch for that extra turn, often resulted in catches and stumpings. His
141 wickets in international cricket were testimony to his effectiveness as a
bowler every time his country needed his services.
When Yuvraj Singh retired in 2019, he was the last of India’s
‘Breakthrough Wizards’ to do so, a group that stepped up to the plate every
time their nation needed them, fulfilling a call well beyond their stated line
of duty.
 Limited Overs, Unlimited Options

‘Murali Kartik was a complete bowler for every format and should
have ended up with more than 300 Test wickets.’
—V.V.S. Laxman

The decade-long meandering search for quality Test spinners across the
length and breadth of India through the 1990s would finally yield
satisfactory results when the duo of Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh
came together towards the end of the decade. In the meantime, however, the
exponential expansion of the One-Day format and the advent of T20 gave
the selectors much more room and frequent occasion to experiment with
multiple spinners. While not all the experiments met with unqualified
success, the quest did throw up some exceptional bowlers who would make
an impact on at least the shorter form of the game.

Saradindu Mukherjee
The first beneficiary of this parallel quest came from the much neglected
playing fields of Bengal. Eleven years after Dilip Doshi, the last spinner
from Bengal to wear the India cap, made his debut, Saradindu Mukherjee
came to the fore. Carrying the reputation of having taken a hat-trick on
Ranji Trophy debut, Mukherjee found himself in the playing XI for the Asia
Cup match against Bangladesh at Chandigarh, bowling his off-spin in
tandem with Venkatapathy Raju.
 Over the course of an international career that lasted all of nine days
and three matches of the tournament, Mukherjee picked up the wicket of
Aravinda de Silva twice. Before the surprise of his inclusion in the Indian
squad had quite worn off, he found himself back in domestic cricket where
he would finish with a 74-wicket haul in first-class cricket at 35.90 runs
apiece and a List-A career that yielded 19 victims gathered at 41 runs
apiece. He currently runs a cricket academy in Kolkata.

Utpal Cha erjee

The second spinner from Bengal to make his debut in the 1990s was a man
who deserves more than a passing mention. If there had been no Dilip
Doshi, Utpal Subodh Chatterjee would have been known forever as
Bengal’s greatest spinner. His record of 504 first-class wickets at a miserly
24.90 runs each speaks for itself. Chatterjee was a lone warrior for Bengal
through the 1990s going for a mere 2.08 runs per over in the Ranji Trophy,
often bowling more than 40 overs per match.
The international career of the man—popularly known as ‘David’ (in
his early days he was a seamer and modelled himself on the action of Alan
Davidson thus earning the nickname)—would sadly not follow the course
of his domestic one. Regional selection politics once again played havoc
with the career of a deserving man. Maninder Singh and Venkatapathy Raju
were never consistent and yet stayed in the team, Sunil Joshi got a few
chances and even Nilesh Kulkarni got a look in but not Chatterjee.
Finally, at the age of thirty-one, Utpal Chatterjee received a call up to
the Indian ODI squad for the Asia Cup held at Sharjah in 1995. On his
debut against Bangladesh, parsimonious as always, Chatterjee finished with
1 for 28 from his 10 overs. India won the match by 9 wickets. Against
Pakistan in the next match he bagged 2 victims. He was picked once more
later that year against New Zealand when he returned wicketless, David
would never again wear an India cap.

Noel David
If a list of bizarre selection decisions in Indian cricket was ever compiled,
the name of Noel David from Hyderabad would undoubtedly occupy the
top line. When Sachin Tendulkar sent a SOS to the selectors asking for a
replacement for Javagal Srinath in the middle of a Caribbean tour in 1997,
he specified the names of two spinners, Baroda’s Tushar Arothe and
Hyderabad’s Kanwaljit Singh (who would eventually end his career with
369 first-class wickets, still waiting for that elusive national cap). Instead,
he got Noel Arthur David, perhaps described best in his Cricinfo profile as
‘an offspinning all-rounder of middling ability’. Tendulkar reportedly asked
the team manager, when informed by him that Noel David, the replacement
for Srinath, was already on his way to the West Indies: ‘Noel who?’
David didn’t play the Tests and took 3 for 21 on his ODI debut at Port
of Spain with his nagging off-breaks. In 3 further ODIs that he played in the
course of the next ten weeks, he managed just one more wicket finishing
with an average of 33.25, never to be picked again. After retiring, he
emigrated to the United States.

Vijay Bharadwaj
Vijay Bharadwaj’s is a curious case of a player making it into the Test team
on the strength of a strong domestic batting performance but instead having
impact as an ODI bowler.
For a player picked primarily for his 1,000-runs season in Ranji
Trophy, a dismal batting average of 9.33 in a 3-Test match career was
overshadowed by an even more horrific bowling average of 107.00 with 1
wicket to his credit. A significantly healthier ODI bowling average of 19.18
from 10 matches owes much to his debut series at the LG cup in Nigeria in
1999-2000 where he picked up 10 wickets at 12.20 per stick against Kenya,
Zimbabwe and South Africa, along with the Man-of-the-Series award.
Sadly, Bharadwaj retired from first-class cricket at the age of thirty
after a laser surgery on his eye that didn’t go as planned.

Murali Kartik
After a few unsuccessful experiments, the selectors finally chanced upon a
rare talent in the left-arm orthodox spin of Murali Kartik about whom Kapil
Dev would say: ‘I have never seen a player with such an attitude towards
the game in my twenty years of international cricket.’116
 V.V.S. Laxman’s view on him expressed years later is another peek
into what brought Kartik into reckoning: ‘His most outstanding
characteristic is his confidence. There are not many orthodox spinners left
in the game: people who are willing to flight the ball, deceive the batsmen
in the air, don’t mind getting hit for a boundary, are always on the prowl,
looking for a wicket. Kartik always possessed those characteristics and
never compromised on them. And even if there were occasions when the
batsman was on top, Kartik would never admit it. I never saw him bowl a
bad spell. He might not have got wickets but he always had control; that
and his variations allowed him to stay on top.’
Notwithstanding his skill and deep commitment, Kartik’s career would
not follow the smooth path that one would have expected. With a high-arm
action, the tantalising loop, the ability to extract sharp turn and bounce and
numerous variations, one would have expected Kartik to become an integral
part of the Indian attack in tandem with Kumble. That was not to be.
He made his Test debut in 2000 against South Africa at Mumbai,
picked up 3 wickets and repeated the feat in the next Test. But in the 2 Tests
that followed, his impact was limited. Kartik lost captain Ganguly’s
confidence perhaps much quicker than he deserved. Making a comeback
into Test cricket and playing under Rahul Dravid four years later in the third
Test against Australia at Nagpur, he had an immediate impact, picking up 5
wickets alongside Kumble who took 3. In Mumbai, on a turning dust bowl a
week later, he spun India to a decisive victory picking up 7 victims in the
second innings while Australia collapsed for 93. In the process a
magnificent spell of bowling from Michael Clarke, who had bagged 6
wickets for 9 runs, disappeared into the oblivion of cricketing statistics.
With Ganguly back in the saddle two weeks later against South Africa,
Kartik kept the incredibly strong Proteas line-up tied up and frustrated at
one end, bowling 42 overs and giving away less than two runs per over. His
spell allowed Kumble the chance to experiment and pick up 6 wickets at the
other end. Kartik’s reward: never to play a Test match for India again.
Former Indian wicketkeeper Deep Dasgupta has an interesting take on
the dynamics between Ganguly and Kartik that might perhaps explain this
travesty. He tells me: ‘It perhaps was not about Kartik at all. Every captain’s
decisions are influenced by his personal experiences. In Ganguly’s case, he
had always dominated left-arm spinners and they had never bothered him as
a batsman. So an offie or a leggie would always get preference in the team
over a left-arm spinner. In his mind, they were just more potent. Kartik was
a victim of this captaincy bias.’117
In the ODI arena, Kartik’s career was a bit longer extending to 37
matches over a five-year period between 2002 and 2007 but he was never
given the long run in the team that would have allowed him to settle down
and make an impact.
In 2007, having been kept out of the team for almost two years, Kartik
enjoyed one of the most bizarre ODI comebacks in recent memory. As a
television expert, he covered the first three of the 7-match ODI series of
Australia’s tour of India. He then received an unexpected call-up for the last
four matches. Though India lost the series 4-2 (one match was washed out),
Kartik’s all-round performance in the final ODI was outstanding. He took 6
for 27 to help rout Australia for 193. Then, coming in at 143 for 8, he and
Zaheer Khan put on 52 to take India to a nerve-wracking 2-wicket win. His
spell was the best for a left-arm spinner in ODIs. Perfectly in line with how
his Test career had panned out, exactly four weeks after this incredible
spell, Kartik played his last ODI for India against Pakistan at Jaipur.
Dilip Doshi, not a person to mince words and a traditionalist in every
sense as far as spin bowling goes, tells me about Kartik: ‘I think Murali
Kartik was a much better bowler than he gets credit for. I think he had a
very good action. At times I felt he did outstandingly well, but for some
obscure reason he did not develop from a certain stage to (the level) where I
thought he would progress. I thought he was one of India’s better (spin)
bowlers.’118
No matter how one spins it, 61 international wickets from 45 matches
clearly does scant justice to the talent of Murali Kartik.
Besides being a much sought after bowler by English counties over
the years, the sunglass-adorned Kartik (he has over a 100 pairs and was
sponsored by Oakley as a result), with the omnipresent beaded necklace
around his neck that he and his wife have worn since their first anniversary,
has been a much respected erudite and insightful commentator on television
since his retirement. Dilip Doshi is not alone when he says: ‘He (Kartik)
has a very analytical mind and I enjoy his comments very much.’

Nikhil Chopra
For a two-year period between the summers of 1998 and 2000, playing in
39 ODI matches, Nikhil Chopra was an important cog in the spinning wheel
of Indian cricket. As a tall Venkataraghavan style off-spinner with a high-
arm action, equally difficult to get away, Chopra’s style despite the lack of
wickets was well suited to the one-day game and met with the approval of
his captains Azharuddin and Ajay Jadeja.
At Toronto in 1999 in the deciding ODI of a three-match series,
Chopra came in to bowl with West Indies tottering at 49 for 4 after
devastating spells by Debasish Mohanty and Venkatesh Prasad. With Brian
Lara and Jimmy Adams at the crease, West Indies were far from done.
Chopra, however, ran through the side picking up both those wickets and
finished with 5 for 21 in a decisive Indian victory.
Chopra’s success in the ODI arena also meant that his fast off-breaks
bowled flat through the air were not considered suitable for the Test arena.
Given one chance against South Africa at Bangalore in 2000, his figures of
0 for 78 from 24 overs only confirmed this view and he was dropped after
the one-off experiment.
Sadly for Nikhil Chopra, just as he had seemingly earned a permanent
place in the ODI side, the match-fixing scandal broke out where both
Azharuddin and Jadeja were implicated. Chopra found himself under
investigation by the authorities as well and his home was raided by the CBI.
He was subsequently cleared for lack of evidence but the BCCI refused to
endorse the selectors’ decision to put him back into the side during the
2000-2001 season. While he continued to play first-class cricket for a while,
the psychological blow and the BCCI attitude probably cost Chopra his
enthusiasm for the game and he faded away from the scene. Forty-six
wickets from 39 matches at 27.95 would remain his contribution to the
sport at the highest level.

Sarandeep Singh
When Sarandeep Singh arrived on the Indian cricketing scene it seemed
safe to conclude that the connection between spin bowling and the Sikh
community was deeper than had earlier been suspected. But whereas in the
early years left-arm orthodox spin had been the beneficiary, now it was off-
spin with both Harbhajan and Sarandeep in contention for a place in the
Indian side.
 A place in the National Cricket Academy’s first batch of trainees in
2000 gave Sarandeep the benefit of the wisdom of Prasanna and Venkat. He
recalls: ‘I learned so many things about bowling off-spin, how to bowl on
flat wickets, how to bowl against good batsmen. They gave me a lot of tips
like how to deceive batsmen in flight when they step out to hit you.’ The
lessons were to immediately bear fruit.
Debuting against Zimbabwe at Nagpur later that year on a flat pitch,
he was brought in to bowl by Ganguly after Zimbabwe had already scored
145 in the first innings. With Kumble injured, Sarandeep picked up 6 of the
15 Zimbabwe wickets that fell in the match. His senior spinning partner
Sunil Joshi, in contrast, struggled on the pitch described later as a ‘sleeping
beauty’. In what can only be termed a travesty, Harbhajan Singh was
preferred over him in the series against Australia that followed immediately.
It was an opportunity that the Turbanator grabbed with both hands and his
performance in the historic 2001 Kolkata Test ensured that Harbhajan
would stay in the side for some time to come.
A year later, Sarandeep found himself back in the side against England
in the last Test at Bangalore as part of a spin trio alongside Kumble and
Harbhajan. He was the most successful bowler with 3 for 54 off 21 overs.
Harbhajan failed to take a wicket and Kumble managed one. As a reward,
Sarandeep was again dropped.
Six months later, taken to the West Indies, he was picked to play 1
Test on a flat Georgetown wicket and took 1 wicket. For the rest of the
series only one spinner could play and Sarandeep found himself on the
sidelines. Sadly, this would also signal the end of his Test career. Back in
the team for 5 ODIs between 2002 and 2003, Sarandeep’s style of bowling,
more suited to Test cricket, would earn him scant reward.
With 314 first-class wickets at 28.98 per stick earned over a decade,
another promising bowler with considerable skills would retire under-
utilised. The blame this time, if any, could only lie at the doors of
unfortunate time of birth that pitted him against Harbhajan Singh, a man
who would go on to become one of India’s great modern spinners.

Rahul Sanghvi
For a nine-month period in 1998 it looked like India had discovered yet
another Bishan Bedi clone with his line, length, control of spin off the track,
the flight and variety all coming together. But over a 10-ODI career when
he picked up a total of 10 wickets playing largely against lesser teams
(except 2 matches against Australia and 1 against Pakistan) returning an
average just below 40, Rahul Sanghvi’s advent would turn out to be yet
another false dawn.
Three years later, Sanghvi found himself drawn in from domestic
wilderness into the Test team against Australia at Mumbai with Anil
Kumble missing from the line-up and Venkatapathy Raju at the end of his
career. He took 2 wickets in the first innings but lost his place to Raju for
the rest of the series. He would never be called up again as Kumble and
Harbhajan bore the burden of India’s spin attack for much of the next
decade.

Sairaj Bahutule
One day in July 1990 India woke up to the news that a horrific traffic
accident in Mumbai had forever claimed Vivek, the only child of the much
loved and admired ghazal singers Jagjit and Chitra Singh. The same article
devoted a line to news of another boy in the car who was now in coma—
Sairaj Bahutule, a promising young leg-spinner who had broken his femur
and had a fractured right leg which needed a rod inserted to hold it together.
Barely eighteen months later, having trained and run through intense
pain with gym sessions in the evening to strengthen the muscles, Bahutule
made his Ranji Trophy debut for Bombay and picked up 4 wickets against
Gujarat. About his debut and early promise, former Bombay captain Shishir
Hattangadi tells me: ‘(Bahutule) came as a breath of fresh air when Bombay
had been struggling for a spinner.’119 Bahutule would go on to pick up 630
first-class wickets at a cost of 26 runs each during the course of a twenty-
one-year career.
Sadly, Bahutule’s international career was less stellar, yielding a
disappointing total of 5 wickets from the 2 Tests and 8 ODIs that he played
between 1997 and 2003. While opportunities for him as a leg-spinner were
limited with Kumble in the side, it is perhaps fair to also say that he was not
able to grab them to the extent he could have. As Hattangadi rightly
concludes: ‘(It’s) cricket’s enigma: your success must coincide with your
competitor’s failure. (Bahutule) deserved more but underachieved. He had
the ability and skill to play long for India.’
Bahutule’s was a career that started on the wrong side of the scorecard
of the world’s most famous schoolboy match. While Sachin Tendulkar and
Vinod Kambli piled on an unbroken 664-run partnership in Mumbai, Sairaj
Bahutule was one of the unfortunates that day tasked with delivering the
cherries to be despatched to all parts of the ground. From there he went on
to break a femur while watching his best friend die beside him. To then play
the game professionally at the first-class level for twenty-one years and bag
630 victims speaks a lot for the character of the man.
Bahutule became a successful coach in later life and currently coaches
the Bengal team. He remains thankful for what life and cricket have given
him.

Sridharan Sriram
When he started his career as a left-arm spinner, Sridharan Sriram
immediately developed a reputation in Tamil Nadu for his prodigious ability
to turn the ball. He was slated to go places and certainly into the Indian side
at an early date. In a twist of fate, it was, however, as a batsman that he was
fated to make an entry into the Indian ODI squad after a couple of
phenomenal domestic seasons. Appearing in 8 ODIs for his country
between 2000 and 2004, it would again be his bowling with which he
picked up 9 victims that would impress more than the 81 runs scored. Left
to Sriram, a man who had piled up 9539 domestic runs at an impressive 53
per innings, he would gladly have reversed his ODI batting and bowling
averages of 13.50 and 30.40 respectively.
In a final twist to the tale, twelve years after he had appeared in his
last international encounter, Sriram would play a significant role in an
Indian defeat in a Test match. When Australia visited India in the 2016-
2017 season, offie Steven O’Keefe spun a web around the Indian batsmen
on a diabolical turning track at Pune picking up a 12-wicket haul. India’s
home hero Ravichandran Ashwin had scarce impact on the same pitch,
unable to control the extra turn off the track. When the match was done and
dusted, O’Keefe publicly thanked the man who had guided him to this
performance, Sridharan Sriram, now the spin consultant to the Australian
Test side.
 Life had come full circle for Sriram. The man, who had been expected
to achieve much more as a spinner than he had delivered during his playing
career, had won a Test match for his adopted country without ever stepping
on to the 22 yards.

Piyush Chawla
With Kumble near the end of his career and Bahutule proving a
disappointment in the late Noughties, the search once again began for the
next king of wrist-spin. Then Piyush Pramod Chawla was drafted into the
Test team in 2006 against England at the tender age of seventeen, making
him the second youngest Indian Test debutant after Tendulkar. Hopes once
again were high from this prodigious teenager with an impressive fast-arm
action googly.
Like many of his predecessors in this chapter, Chawla would flatter to
deceive. Appearing in only 3 Test matches between 2006 and 2012, he
picked up 7 wickets at an expensive 38.57 runs each. In 25 ODIs between
2007 and 2011, his haul of 32 wickets came at 34.90 and his 7 T20I gained
him 4 scalps at 37.75.
At thirty, Piyush Chawla remains in contention for a place in the
Indian side but even he must realise that emergence of the young wrist
spinners for India have put paid to any realistic chances of a comeback.

Amit Mishra
Of all the men who queued up to replace Anil Kumble as the wrist wizard
in the national side, no one made as worthy a claim to the slot as Amit
Mishra. With 156 international wickets under his belt across the three
formats, Mishra has more often than not justified the selectors’ faith in him
over the fifteen years since he made his debut in ODI for India in 2003 at
Dhaka against South Africa.
Between 2003 and 2016, Mishra appeared in 36 ODIs picking up 64
wickets at an impressive average of 23.60 runs per victim. This included a
memorable 6 for 48 against Zimbabwe at Bulawayo in 2013, making a
comeback into the side after two years in the wilderness. An ODI against
New Zealand at Visakhapatnam in October 2016 saw him turn in a magical
spell of bowling where he picked up 5 wickets for 18. Since December
2016 he has not been picked again for the side.
An injury to Kumble in 2008 saw Mishra make his Test debut against
Australia at Mohali. He rewarded the selectors for their faith with a 7-
wicket haul at an incredible 15.14 runs per victim. In the 3 Tests of that
series he finished with 14 wickets. He was to repeat this success every time
he was dropped and made many a comeback over the next eight years,
picking up 76 Test wickets during the course of a 22-match career in this
period at an average of 35.72. This does not compare unfavourably with
most Indian spinners who have had far more chances in the sun.
In the T20 format which is a batsman’s game, Mishra was picked 10
times between 2010 and 2017 and gathered a rich haul of 16 wickets at an
average of 15.00 runs each.
Despite his classical attacking leg-spin, relying mostly on flight and a
big leg-break, surprising batsmen with the odd googly, his haul seems
inadequate recompense for his talent and performance. This must be put
down to a career that has had frequent stops and starts with others being
preferred over him at several points where it looked like he had done
enough to merit a permanent place in the side. Of all the leg-spinners who
were tried out in this period, Amit Mishra must surely count himself
unlucky for the way he has been treated by the Indian selectors.
At almost thirty-six years of age, while he knows he is at the end of
his career, Mishra can definitely take immense pride from the fact that he
has done his best for his country whenever he has been given the chance,
occasions which, alas, have been far more infrequent than he deserved.

Ramesh Powar
In modern cricket, the first thing that would strike one as an anachronism
about Mumbai’s Ramesh Powar was the unabashed stockiness of this off-
spinner in the classical mould. The next one would be his fearlessness in
flighting the ball and the ability to hold it back just enough to create doubt
in the batsman’s mind. Sadly the success that he enjoyed at the domestic
level over a sixteen-year career graph, picking up 470 first-class wickets,
would not be transported to the international arena particularly with
Harbhajan Singh at the forefront of every conversation on off-spin during
the period.
 Hattangadi wryly tells me: ‘Powar’s skill and demeanour was more for
the 1970s where looking fit was not non-negotiable.’ He goes on to call
Powar ‘the best offie from Mumbai ever’, and concedes that ‘Powar was
born at the wrong time. Bhajji had set a benchmark.’120
Making his ODI debut in 2004 against Pakistan at Rawalpindi, Powar
did not make an impact and was dropped for two years. Making a
comeback in 2006, having added a ‘drifter’ to his armoury, he would enjoy
the confidence of new captain Rahul Dravid and coach Greg Chappell,
earning a long eighteen-month stint in the side. When he played his last
ODI in 2007, Powar had 34 wickets to show from 31 matches at an average
of 35.00. In 2007, he would also be picked for the tour of Bangladesh that
followed the disastrous World Cup campaign in the West Indies. There he
played both Tests picking up 6 wickets at 19.66 apiece. He also travelled to
England as a part of the team that summer and played in the ODIs against
Australia later that year but that would be the end of his international career.
Most recently he was the coach of the Indian Women’s team. His
contract was not extended after a run-in with Mithali Raj, the seniormost
player in the team, over a disagreement that ballooned into a national social
media-fuelled controversy.

Pragyan Ojha
Born in Odisha and playing for Hyderabad in first-class cricket, Pragyan
Ojha joined the list of left-arm spinners that India tried out towards the end
of the Noughties. Coming into the Indian side in 2008 when Anil Kumble
had just retired, Ojha had the chance to make a permanent place for himself
in the team.
Over the course of a four-year period between 2008 and 2012, he
played 18 ODIs (15 of them against Sri Lanka) and picked up 21 wickets at
31.04 each in what must be described as a disappointing performance.
In the longer format, his 113 wickets at 30.26 in a 24-Test match
career was, however, impressive. This included a 7-wicket haul against
West Indies at Mumbai in 2011 when his 6 victims in the second innings all
but won India the match. Sadly the batsmen failed to seize the opportunity,
India falling short by a solitary run. Granted Ojha’s entire career was played
on subcontinental pitches but you can only play with the hand you are dealt,
so he cannot be faulted for his effort or pickings in this regard.
In the T20 format, appearing in 6 matches over the course of a year in
2009-2010, Ojha took 10 wickets at 13.20 and never played for India in that
format again.
In December 2014, Ojha was banned from bowling until he took
corrective action for a bent arm. The rehab did not take long, the anomaly
in the action having been caused by an ill-advised attempt to vary the angle
of his delivery bringing his hand back from behind his head. It had become
a habit from never having been pointed out. But with newer bowlers like
Ravindra Jadeja sealing their place in the XI, Ojha has not been able to
make a comeback to the side.
 Ravichandran Ashwin

‘For me, one fine day I should be literally unplayable. If I bowl six
balls in an over, the batsman should get beaten on all six deliveries. I
think that will be the pinnacle point in my career.’
—Ravichandran Ashwin

Whatever else he achieves in his remarkable career, Ravichandran Ashwin

is unlikely to forget that day in November 2017 when he ‘carom-balled’ his
way past Dennis Lillee to break a record that had stood for over three
decades. In his 54th Test match, bowling against Sri Lanka, Ashwin picked
up his 300th victim in Test cricket. Lillee needed 56 Test matches, Muttiah
Muralitharan 58 and Richard Hadlee 61 Tests to reach the same landmark.
Barely a year before, Ashwin had come close to breaking legendary
Australian leg-spinner Clarrie Grimmett’s eighty-year old record of 200
wickets in 36 Tests. But for two rained-out Tests in the West Indies just
prior, he would even have done so. As it would turn out, Kane Williamson
was fated to become the 200th victim in Ashwin’s 37th Test match. The
leap from 200 to 300 would consume a mere 17 Tests.

A Worthy Successor Emerges from the IPL

When the IPL appeared on the Indian cricket firmament in 2008, it was
thought to be the speck of rain cloud on the horizon that could help reverse
the steady drying up of cricket viewership in the grounds around the
country. But after a couple of seasons, it was clear that it was instead a
tsunami that had been unleashed by Lalit Modi and friends. The IPL would
completely transform the landscape of cricket not only in India but across
the world and leagues built on the same principle would mushroom from
Australia to Canada.
The IPL, however, did something for cricket which went far beyond
gate proceeds and advertising revenues. It unearthed talent at the grassroots
level and gave young cricketers, picked up by franchise talent scouts, a
short cut to the international game and a livelihood they would perhaps
have struggled to otherwise attain.
While the T20 format was engineered for batsmen to entertain and
hence unearthed some phenomenal talent with the willow, much like the
Roman Colosseums, it also needed gladiators to put up a fight before they
were vanquished. In cricketing terms, the sport, for it to be a true spectacle,
also needed quality bowlers able to take the fight to the batsmen.
In this quest, rather unexpectedly, from the reddened sand of the IPL
arena (although he had played first-class cricket for a couple of seasons
before that without significant impact), there emerged a man who would
replace Harbhajan Singh in the Indian team and go on to become perhaps
the greatest Test match off-spinner of his generation: Ravichandran Ashwin.
Starting off life as an opening batsman and a medium-pace bowler, an
injury forced him to take to spin. Appropriately enough, it was Harbhajan
Singh who was the inspiration. Talking about his beginnings Ashwin says:
‘I started bowling off-spin after seeing what he (Harbhajan) did in 2001
(against Australia) and that is where it began. India needed a role model
like Harbhajan Singh back then, somebody who could start winning games
for India with the ball. That is where my love for off-spin began.’

A New Era in Indian Spin

A tall off-spinner in the mould of Srinivas Venkataraghavan, a fellow
engineer (Ashwin is an instrumental engineering graduate from the SSN
College of Engineering) and hailing from the same city, Ashwin came into
prominence as the strike bowler for his city’s IPL franchise, Chennai Super
Kings. He opened the bowling, bowled at the death and picked up wickets
in between when needed. Soon he was playing the same role for India in
T20 internationals under his IPL captain M.S. Dhoni, making his debut in
June 2010 against Zimbabwe at Harare. In 46 T20I over the next seven
years he would take 52 wickets at 22.94 runs each and return best bowling
figures of 4 for 8.
A week before his T20I debut, Ashwin had made his ODI debut
against Sri Lanka at the same venue. While Sri Lanka won the match by 6
wickets, Ashwin had been the most successful Indian bowler picking up 2
wickets. He had also, importantly, scored a quickfire 38 off 32 balls to help
his team put up a respectable 268 runs.
But none of this quite prepared the Indian fans for what would happen
when Ashwin made his Test debut at Delhi’s Ferozeshah Kotla in
November 2011 against the West Indies.
Dhoni’s India came limping into a home series against the relatively
weak West Indies with their confidence shattered from a 0-4 hammering in
England, having gone into that series as the much-vaunted number one Test
team in the world. This was a home stop before another challenging tour of
Australia.
As journalist Sharda Ugra wrote in ESPN Cricinfo, ‘While Kotla,
Eden Gardens and the Wankhede are as far removed from Australia as
Oxford is from Ouagadougou, this is an ideal time for Indian try-outs
against opposition that can stir but not quite shake.’
One of the men tried out was Ravichandran Ashwin and he would
shake the world of cricket.
India conceded a 95-run lead in the first innings with some poor
batting, perhaps a hangover from the abysmal summer performances in
England. But then debutant Ashwin stepped up to the plate to be counted.
Bowling sensibly with flight and drift on a pitch that only took moderate
spin, Ashwin bagged 9 wickets in the match. It was the second best
performance by an Indian Test debutant after Hirwani’s 16 wickets. As
V.V.S. Laxman once again hit the winning runs for India in a tight chase,
debutant Ashwin was getting ready to receive his Man-of-the-Match award.
Indian fans did not know it then but a remarkable career had just kicked off
at Kotla.
In the two Tests that followed, Ashwin added another 13 wickets to
finish at the top of the bowling charts. His 22 victims in the series at 22.90
runs apiece had now set him up nicely as a contender for Harbhajan Singh’s
hereto unchallenged off-spinner’s slot in the team.
But Ashwin’s talent with the ball was only part of the story. In the
third Test at Wankhede, a high-scoring affair, Ashwin not only took 9 for
190 yet again showcasing his skills as an off-spinner but was the highest
scorer in India’s first-innings score of 482 with 103 runs. The match ended
in a thrilling draw with India finishing at 242, needing 243 to win the
match.
Talking about Ashwin’s debut series in his recently published
autobiography 281 and Beyond, V.V.S. Laxman wrote: ‘To see him stack up
the numbers with the ball since then has been anything but a surprise.’
The West Indies had been vanquished 2-0 but now Australia
beckoned.
The series that followed in Australia would, however, immediately
expose Ashwin’s inexperience and limitations on hard bouncy pitches that
only Indian finger spinners of supreme quality, the likes of Prasanna, Doshi
and Bedi, had conquered. Nine wickets at over 62 runs apiece was as harsh
a lesson in life as a young bowler on his first overseas tour could expect.
Not since India’s first overseas tour in 1947 had a side to Australia been
humbled in the manner that Dhoni and his boys were. The 0-4 drubbing
mirrored the result in England just a few months before. From number one
team in the world, India’s deep dive into oblivion had been less than
spectacular, to say the least. Ashwin was receiving an early lesson in life’s
vagaries.
Fortunately for the young Ashwin, the baptism by fire did not last long
and it was soon time to face the Kiwis on more familiar home soil. In the
two Test series he put in a remarkable performance, winning the series for
India 2-0 with his haul of 18 wickets at an incredible average of 13.11. In
the process, his 12 for 85 in the first Test at Hyderabad became the best
figures by an Indian bowler against New Zealand, bettering his Chennai
predecessor Srinivas Venkataraghavan’s 12 for 152.
When England arrived on Indian shores that winter, Ashwin was
brimming with confidence, keen to help his captain and team salvage pride
after the mauling from the previous summer. Playing his 9th Test match,
Ashwin became the fastest Indian to 50 wickets. But that was the only thing
India would be able to celebrate as England won the series 2-1 against all
Indian expectations. It would indeed be an off-spinner who made the
difference in the end, but it wasn’t Ashwin. Bowling beautifully, Graeme
Swann picked up 20 wickets in the series while Ashwin only managed 14 at
52.64 runs a stick.
 With Australia coming to town for a 4-Test series, Ashwin needed to
figure out what he was doing wrong. A stint with former Tamil Nadu
spinner and his childhood coach Sunil Subramaniam revealed a problem
with his bowling stride. On Subramaniam’s advice Ashwin shortened it and
immediately found his rhythm.
Against Australia in early 2013, India did what they had been unable
to achieve against England, registering a 4-0 Test victory. It was the first
time Australia had been whitewashed since 1969-70 in a series and also the
first time India had won four or more Tests in a series. At the centre of it all
was Ravichandran Ashwin.
At home in Chennai, he registered the second 12-wicket haul of his
career, leading India to an 8-wicket win. At the end of the four Test series,
his series figures read 29 wickets at 20.10 apiece. In the process, he
surpassed Anil Kumble’s 27-wicket record for an Indian bowler in a 4-Test
series and ended an incredible home season with 43 wickets. A year later in
2 Tests against the West Indies at home, Ashwin once again picked up 12
wickets at 19.33 runs apiece. The road ahead, which traversed a few
countries, was however going to be a tougher one.

At Sea Abroad
In December 2013 India travelled to South Africa for an ODI series
followed by 2 Test matches. In the first Test at Johannesburg on a wicket
that had little for the spinners, Ashwin bowled 42 overs and failed to take a
wicket. Imran Tahir and J.P. Duminy bagged 4 between them for the
Proteas.
Reflecting on the performance later, Ashwin was to say: ‘Maybe that
is what was needed for me to become a better bowler. I firmly believe that
was fate because until then I had played 18 Test matches without a lot of
bad games.’
Not surprisingly, Ashwin was dropped for the second Test at Durban
where on a track better suited to spin, his replacement Ravindra Jadeja
bowled a marathon 58 overs in the first innings picking up 6 victims as
South Africa won the Test by 10 wickets.
Unsurprisingly, Jadeja occupied the sole spinner’s slot in the first three
Tests of the England series that followed the next summer. With the series
all squared at 1-1, Ashwin was brought back for the 2 remaining Tests.
Unfortunately, India lost both Tests to go down 3-1 in the series and
Ashwin’s 3 wickets at 33.66 added little to his reputation as a spinner.
There was, however, no let up as the tour to England was followed by
one to Australia and sure as night follows day, Ashwin’s travails continued.
While he bowled better than he had on his maiden trip down under and
clearly had better grip on the unfamiliar conditions, his 12 wickets came at
a very heavy price of 48.66 runs apiece.
It was, however, another valuable learning experience. ‘I think I came
of age when I played in Australia this time. More than anything else, I think
I created a lot of wicket-taking opportunities and put a lot of pressure on the
batsman,’ he said after the series. His next statement reflected his growing
maturity and confidence: ‘Over the last year, my bowling has come a long
way. If you asked me, would you take 25 wickets more or how you are
bowling right now, I would say I will take how I am bowling right now
because I know the wickets are round the corner.’
And he would be right. Over the next four years, Ashwin’s wicket haul
would multiply and his bowling average in a Test series abroad would never
approach the lofty numbers of his early career. In 2016, his 17 wickets on
West Indian pitches only cost him 23.17 per dismissal. The 7 wickets in
South Africa in 2017-18 came at a cost of just over 30 runs apiece and the
11 victims in England in the summer of 2018 at 32.72 each.

At Home in the Land of Spin

It is undeniable that Ashwin has been a phenomenon to observe in the
subcontinent between his less-than-stellar performances abroad.
In 2015, he had a chance to recover his shattered confidence from the
Australia tour when he toured Bangladesh and Sri Lanka with the Indian
team that year. In the one-off Test against Bangladesh he picked up 5 for 87
opening the bowling in the first innings of a drawn encounter alongside
Ishant Sharma on a turning pitch.
In Sri Lanka that August, he picked up a 10-wicket haul in the first
Test at Galle but watched Rangana Herath scythe through his side in the
second innings with a 7-wicket haul and win the match for Sri Lanka. In the
second Test at Colombo, however, the roles were reversed. Ashwin and leg-
spinner Amit Mishra picked up 7 wickets each to spin India to victory by
278 runs. In the decider, Ashwin reserved his best for the last, picking up
four decisive wickets in the second innings to ensure a thrilling series
victory for his side. In the three Tests, Ashwin’s haul was 21 wickets at a
measly cost of 18.09 apiece.
But this was nothing compared to the home season that followed in the
winter of 2015-16 when South Africa toured India.
On diabolically spinning pitches, the much-vaunted Proteas, boasting
the tag of number one Test side in the world, found themselves all at sea,
their ship sunk by Hurricane Ashwin. Thirty-one wickets in a 4-Test series
at an incredible 11.12 apiece was a haul no Indian bowler had ever
achieved. In the process, Ashwin surpassed his own best in this regard that
he had achieved with the 29 Aussie victims he had bagged in 2013. India
was victorious by a 3-0 margin.
The 2016 home series (and Ashwin’s cricketing Christmas) started as
early as September. The three Tests against a hapless New Zealand side
yielded a scarcely believable 27-wicket haul, including a 10-wicket haul at
Kanpur followed by 13 unfortunates that fell to Ashwin’s guiles at Indore.
In the process, Ashwin picked up his 200th wicket in only his 37th Test
match becoming the second fastest in the history of Test cricket to achieve
this milestone. Only Australia’s Clarrie Grimmett had done it faster,
needing 36 Tests to achieve the feat.
But Ashwin was far from done. A month later England arrived for a 5-
Test series to find the gale forces from Hurricane Ashwin waiting for them.
The 28 wickets Ashwin picked up in the 5 Test matches was almost
disappointing in comparison to his recent performances. It was, however,
enough to give India a decisive 4-0 series victory over Alastair Cook’s
boys.
Six victims in the one-off Test against Bangladesh followed by the 21
Australian victims from 4 Tests wrapped up a long Indian home season for
Ashwin. His incredible haul of 82 wickets in those 13 Tests at 25.28
propelled Ashwin to 275 Test wickets in his 49th Test match, the fastest any
bowler in the history of Test cricket had traversed that distance.
The 2017 cricket season again started early in the subcontinent and
India’s schedule was dominated by 6 Tests against Sri Lanka, three each in
the Emerald Isles and India, yielding Ashwin a rich haul of 29 wickets. As
importantly, playing his 54th Test match, Ravichandran Ashwin marched
past the 300-wickets mark ahead of any bowler in the history of Test
cricket, taking 2 Tests less than Dennis Lillee and a clear 4 ahead of the
great Muttiah Muralitharan.
Whatever may be said about his bowling abroad, there is no denying
Ashwin’s complete dominance of home conditions. Syed Kirmani, told me:
‘Ashwin is a fantastic spin bowler. The best India has had in many
years.’121 Bishan Bedi concurs. ‘Kumble and Ashwin,’ is his answer when I
ask him who were the best spinners India has produced since the Quartet
ruled the world of spin.122

Master of Complications
A ‘complication’, as defined by watchmakers, is any feature in a timepiece
that goes beyond the indication of hours and minutes. The more the
‘complication’, the more expensive and exclusive is the watch. So much so
that one of the top Swiss watchmakers, Frank Muller, carries a tagline
‘master of complications’. This is a sobriquet that one may well use for
Ravichandran Ashwin.
The more successful Ashwin has been, the more he has tended to
complicate his bowling. From frequently changing bowling actions to
experimenting with grips and deliveries to inventing new deliveries and
even developing a conventional leg break, Ashwin is at the forefront of
innovation. Kumble says about the impact of Ashwin’s education on his
bowling: ‘Engineering in particular helps in analysing angles and
trajectory.’ The problem is that unlike a well-oiled Swiss watch, Ashwin’s
complications have not always brought the desired results.
His predecessors who were moulded in the more classical school of
spin bowling despair at his experimentation.
Erapalli Prasanna has given him advice over the years in terms of the
science of flighting the ball and holding it back, two key weapons in the
armoury of a top-class spinner. While talking about Ashwin, Prasanna cites
his own engineering experience when he says: ‘My degree helped me in
understanding biomechanics and aerodynamics.’ But he sounded a bit
exasperated when he said, ‘With the kind of batting these days, he (Ashwin)
has to adjust himself but he is trying out too many things.’ 123
At the Southampton Test match in the summer of 2018 Moeen Ali, a
spinner with arguably lesser ability but perhaps a better understanding of
home conditions, ran through India picking up 9 wickets. Ashwin notably
failed to make an impact, bagging 3 victims on a wicket that took spin.
Prasanna says: ‘On this pitch, he should have made the England batsmen
drive. The most basic thing on a wicket like this is that you don’t have to do
anything. You bowl on the spot (rough patch) and let the batsmen drive the
ball. But when you bowl 70 per cent of your deliveries short of length you
cannot be successful. In Test cricket, length is mandatory.’
Shane Warne, a man who loved to keep things simple (and managed
over 700 Test wickets doing that) says: ‘The more the pitch does for the
spinner, the less you need to do.’ Graeme Swann, England’s greatest
spinner of this millennium, concurs: ‘When the pitch started playing its
part, I looked to stick to the basics and get the wickets.’
Dilip Doshi, another classical spinner, is scathing when he says:
‘Every spinner must have a stock ball at which they are adept and this is a
ball that must be used 90 per cent of the time. These days Ashwin does not
bowl the off-break enough so I am not sure how to classify him. I despair
about off-spinners who start their spell with a fielder at point. What does it
tell you about their confidence on the stock ball?’124 In a clear case of the
exception that proves the rule, Ashwin bowled two outstanding deliveries in
England in 2018, both to Alastair Cook, inarguably England’s best player of
spin. Both were his stock deliveries that got through the formidable Cook
defence and took out his stumps. Sadly, those were also the last two times
on that tour Ashwin would prove Doshi wrong.
Dilip Vengsarkar has a different view: ‘Ashwin is an outstanding
bowler, a real match winner who can run through sides in the tradition of
Chandra, Prasanna and Kumble. The fact that he is less successful in
England and South Africa may have something to do with the fact that he
bowls in India with the SG ball, whereas the less prominent seam of the
Duke and Kookaburra balls may be less suited to his style of spin.’125
Kapil Dev agrees. He says about Ashwin: ‘Ashwin is not a great
athlete but what a wonderful bowler he is. Like Doshi, Ashwin is a thinking
bowler, thinking all the time about how to get the batsman out. That for me
is very valuable.’126
While Vengsarkar and Kapil’s former teammate Kirmani is also very
complimentary about Ashwin, another Indian keeper is less so. I asked
Deep Dasgupta about his views on Ashwin and his lack of success on
foreign pitches. It is a fact that while bowling 26 per cent of his overs
outside the subcontinent, Ashwin’s haul of 59 wickets (18 per cent of his
total) at almost 40 runs per stick is not awe inspiring.
Dasgupta once again points fingers at Ashwin’s experimentation:
‘Ashwin overcomplicates things, being a good thinker at times he tries to
create things which are not there. Southampton was a very good example.
You mean to tell me that Moeen Ali can bowl in the rough and you can’t?
For someone who’s grown up in Chennai with all those foot marks to work
with you are supposed to bowl on the rough and not try different things. At
times when there is nothing in the pitch you can experiment, but when the
game is on the line and the team expects you to be bowling to the situation
you have to deliver.’127
This is clearly work in progress for Ashwin and, intelligent man that
he is, he will undoubtedly have taken this feedback on board. It may,
however, be telling that Ashwin injured himself early in two successive
away series in England and Australia in 2018 and was unable to play most
of the Tests. In trying to prove a point abroad he may just be physically
trying too hard to change his action and delivery point on foreign pitches
with alien red balls.

Is Ashwin As Good As His Numbers Suggest?

During our conversation, Deep Dasgupta pointed out something that critics
often ignore: ‘Looking beyond his experimentation. Ashwin’s sheer
numbers are a testimony to his place as a modern great.’128
Dasgupta’s comment brings us to an interesting point.
Notwithstanding the success that he has had in Test cricket, the naysayers
remain vocal about Ashwin’s standing as a world class off-spinner. They
point to his skewed record where much of his success has come on
subcontinental pitches while questioning his calibre.
While it is easy to get carried away by his sheer numbers or indeed the
conflicting assertion that his skewed numbers suggest a lesser bowler than
his more illustrious predecessors, it is perhaps worth looking deeper into
this issue in the context of Indian spinners down the ages.
It is easy to denigrate Ashwin by saying that much of his success has
come on spinning Indian pitches and hence they are worth less than his
numbers suggest. Former Test spinner V.V. Kumar is scathing when he talks
about Ashwin’s success at home: ‘Getting a Test wicket is difficult all over
the world. In subcontinental conditions, getting a Test wicket is like eating a
peanut.’ In reality, this is a seriously flawed argument from a gifted spinner
who should know better.
Indian pitches have always helped spin, some more than others. In
comparing the performance of Indian spinners across the ages, it’s perhaps
best to look at the statistics of early spinners on Indian pitches and compare
them to that of modern spinners on subcontinental pitches. The fact that the
‘modern greats’ did not play in Pakistan where spinning pitches are less
widespread makes this a reasonable framework.
Ashwin has bowled 74 per cent of his deliveries on subcontinental
pitches while bagging 82 per cent of his wickets at a stunning 22.45.
Prasanna bowled 47 per cent of the time in India and got 50 per cent of his
victims at 26.95 apiece. Venkat bowled 56 per cent of his deliveries at home
picking up 60 per cent of his wickets, i.e., 94 of them at 30.65 apiece.
The difference in impact becomes even more stark when the
comparison is made with Harbhajan Singh, an off-spinner much closer to
Ashwin’s time. Harbhajan, in a remarkably successful career picked up 417
Test wickets, of which 265 (64 per cent) were bagged in the subcontinent at
a cost of 28.77 runs apiece.
Even when there is a comparison made across eras and including
Indian spinners of all genres, the closest anyone comes to home dominance
is Dilip Doshi with an average of 25.39 for the 68 per cent of his wickets
earned in home conditions.
As Dasgupta and Kirmani both pointed out, it is one thing to have
favourable home conditions—and most bowling teams do—it is another to
exploit them to their maximum. On this count alone, Ravichandran Ashwin
has already earned his place in the pantheon of great Indian spinners.
Aged thirty-two, Ashwin is peaking as a spinner and has a few years
remaining at the top in which to silence his remaining critics with his
performances abroad as he has done at home. He has already achieved more
than many do in their entire lifetimes.
Ashwin is, however, not resting on his laurels as is clear from the
philosophical comment he made recently: ‘I think all the way in your life
until you reach sixty, you are creating memories for yourself. So one fine
day when I’m sixty and when I’m not very mobile, maybe at seventy as
well, I will sit back and think about my past and if I can really give myself a
smile, I think I will have done well in my life. ‘
T20 and Emergence of a New Breed of Spinners

‘The paradox in T20 is that spinners are most effective, compared to

seamers, in the last five overs. Spinners go for 8.54 at the death while
seamers go for 9.58 an over. Where there is inefficiency in sport, so
there is opportunity: a chance for teams to recalibrate their strategy to
get more wins. And so in the future one of the next innovations in
T20 looms as teams delivering ever-more spin bowling, with three
specialist spinners increasingly the norm.’
—Tim Wigmore in The Telegraph

By the end of the first decade of the Noughties, Indian fans were well used
to the concept of ‘horses for courses’ when it came to choosing players
across the three formats of the sport. Moreover, the IPL had laid its claim to
being a legitimate launchpad for national service, not only for T20I but also
for longer formats. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that most of the next
group of spinners to be bestowed the national cap would excel or emerge
from the shortest format of the game. The first of them would, however,
make his early mark in first-class cricket before sealing his place in the
Indian team via the IPL.

Ravindra Jadeja
On a summer’s day in 2014, Ravindrasinh Anirudhsinh Jadeja turned the
22-yard strip at Lord’s into a stage for display of his swordsmanship, with
the cricket bat.
 Responding in the most fitting manner possible to verbal and physical
abuse from Jimmy Anderson, Jadeja scored 68 off 57 balls. The innings
won India her first Test victory outside Asia in four years. It would be a
celebration that would hereon be associated with the man from Nawanagar
(now called Jamnagar), two of whose rulers—uncle and nephew,
Ranjitsinhji and Duleepsinhji—had both played for England, the team
Jadeja had just helped vanquish at the ‘Mecca of Cricket.’
Five years later, at the 2019 World Cup, again in England, coming in
to bat with India at 92 for 6 against New Zealand in the semi-finals, his
team almost out of the competition, Jadeja played one of the best World
Cup knocks in recent memory, scoring 77 off 59 deliveries with four sixes.
Despite his efforts, India failed to complete what would have been an
unlikely win. His half century had of course been duly followed by the now
trademark sword-wielding celebration.
While the celebration was a reflection of the tenacity and competitive
spirit of the man, Jadeja was not in the team as a batsman, notwithstanding,
his three domestic triple centuries and prowess as a first-class batsman. He
was in the Test team as a left-arm spin bowler, not in the tradition of a
Bishan Bedi or a Maninder Singh but much more in the mould of a Bapu
Nadkarni. And his journey to the bat-waving celebration at Lord’s had been
one of the most unlikely occurrences in Indian cricket.

Humble Beginnings to Rockstar

Brought up in a one-room flat along with two elder sisters by a mother who
was a nurse at a government hospital and a father an occasional security
guard without a fixed income, cricket was young Jadeja’s escape from the
reality of life. When he was ten, his father enrolled him at Cricket Bunglow,
a small government-funded nascent cricket academy run by Mahendrasinh
Chauhan, a policeman, small-time cricketer and non-qualified coach with
three obsessions—discipline, fitness and fielding. There was a Vinoo
Mankad statue right outside the field. That became the place where young
Ravindra could be found sitting before and after practice. The boy with a
surfeit of energy and a passion for the game had come to the right place.
Jadeja was seventeen when he was picked for the 2006 U-19 World
Cup in Sri Lanka, which he played alongside Rohit Sharma and Cheteshwar
Pujara. A year earlier he had lost his mother, the pillar of the family’s life,
in a kitchen accident. Cricket now became his raison d’être and spin
bowling his weapon that would help him scythe through life’s challenges
and open the path to success.
Jadeja had learnt an important lesson at Cricket Bunglow—keep
things simple but whatever you do, do it with passion and determination.
Years later Jadeja would talk about spin bowling to a bunch of kids: ‘Split
the index finger and middle finger along the seam, make sure the ball
doesn’t touch the palm, bowl from close to the stumps and let the arm go as
close to the ear as possible.’ Minimalist, to the point and ultimately
effective. But leaving it at that would be injustice to his spinning ability and
understanding of the art. Speaking to a senior journalist, Jadeja would say:
‘If the pitch is turning, I want to bowl fast. Not give the batsmen time to
adjust to the turn. If the pitch is not helpful, that’s when I try to beat them in
the air. There is no point showing off your tricks when the pitch is doing it
for you.’ This is a lesson that spinners far more accomplished than Jadeja
have learnt the hard way.
One of the least appreciated but most talented spinners in Indian
cricket, Salim Durani, says simply: ‘Ravindra Jadeja is someone whom I
like watching play.’ Durani was another man who didn’t like to complicate
things either with the bat or the ball but was a master of his craft when he
was on song.
Dilip Doshi calls him an ‘outstanding cricketer’ and goes on to point
out that: ‘He (Jadeja) has been very successful on helpful Indian pitches but
it is not easy to do this, and the record of the Spin Quartet shows they did
not always produce the results and we lost many home series at the time
despite the conditions favouring us. I would, therefore, give Jadeja and
Ashwin credit for bowling extremely well in helpful conditions and
annihilating many foreign teams.’129
The first break came in 2008 when Rajasthan Royals picked him for
their IPL franchise. The sunscreen-lathered young man in sunglasses
sporting long hair saw everyone get up and greet a white guy. He remained
seated and nodded at the man, without the slightest idea that he was looking
at one of the greatest leg-spinners the world has known. Shane Warne
smiled and said: ‘Look, we have a rockstar amidst us.’

ere Must Be Darkness Before ere Is Light

M.S. Dhoni took an instant liking to him and gave him his India ODI and
T20 debut soon after. But it would turn out to be a poisoned chalice. In the
World T20 Dhoni promoted him in a chase of 154 against England. It was a
mistake, for notwithstanding his domestic record, twenty-year-old Jadeja
was ill-equipped for the challenge, his strengths being bowling, fielding and
batting in that order. He scored 25 off 35 balls. India did not make it to the
knockout stage. For Indian fans, a villain to ridicule was born that day.
In 2010, Lalit Modi would make an example of him for breaking a
pre-season transfer rule and ban him for a year while Ambani-owned
Mumbai Indians, the other guilty party got away scot free. Jadeja went back
to the drawing board and emerged stronger, mentally and physically. In
2012, it would again be Dhoni who would resurrect his career, picking him
for the Chennai IPL franchise as the most expensive player in the draft.
This time the faith would be justified and Dhoni would get a foot soldier
ready to lay down his life (figuratively) for his captain. Going against all
conventional wisdom, Dhoni now handed Jadeja his Test cap.
In his first full series against Australia at home in 2013, Jadeja picked
up an incredible 24 wickets from 4 Test matches, dismissing Michael
Clarke five times. That winter, given just one chance in Durban against
South Africa, on a less than helpful track, Jadeja bowled a marathon spell of
58.2 overs picking up 6 for 138 with the lowest strike rate among all Indian
bowlers as South Africa piled up 500 in the first innings and won the Test
by 10 wickets. Between the two series, he bowled India to a Champions
Trophy victory in England in the 50-over format of the game.
In 2015, back home against South Africa (on admittedly diabolical
dust bowl pitches) his haul was 23 wickets at 10.82 in the 4-Test series. He
was the second highest wicket taker in the series after senior spin partner
Ashwin but with a better bowling average (Ashwin took 31 wickets at
11.12). Fourteen wickets against New Zealand in 3 Tests and 26 wickets
against England in 5 Tests followed the next winter including a 7 for 48 in
the second innings at Chennai that won India the Test. Twenty-five wickets
against Australia in 2017 followed by 23 against Sri Lanka ensured that
‘Sir’ Ravindra Jadeja, the man once hated, often ridiculed and only
grudgingly respected by Indian fans moved up the ICC Test rankings to
emerge, for a few long weeks, as the number one bowler in the world.
With 399 international wickets, including 192 victims at 23.68 runs
apiece from 41 Test matches (at the time of writing), the rockstar of Indian
cricket, has delivered far more than the fans and the establishment could
have ever expected. At thirty years of age, one suspects he has a few more
surprises in store for his detractors and the growing legion of converted
fans.

Rahul Sharma
Tall leg-spinner Rahul Sharma’s career did not quite turn out like
compatriot Jadeja’s. Having made his first-class debut for Punjab in 2006, it
would be his T20 debut for his state in 2009 where he picked up 3 for 14
against Haryana that would get him noticed. In 2011 playing for the new
Pune IPL franchise he dismissed Sachin Tendulkar, something that was
guaranteed to bring selectorial eyeballs his way. Making his ODI debut
against West Indies at home later that year and his T20I debut against
Australia at Sydney a couple of months later, Sharma’s total haul of 9
wickets across 4 ODIs and 2 T20Is over a six-month period would not be
enough to keep him in the national side. With recall prospects dim, in 2014
Sharma decided to call an end to his career.

Axar Patel
As Ravindra Jadeja has established himself as an essential part of India’s
Test bowling attack, another tall young left-arm spinner from Gujarat has
emerged from the shortest version of the game and is now making an
impact on the 50-over format. Axar Patel’s ascent into the national side has
also been through the T20 route. Bowling accurate left-arm orthodox spin
with a high-arm action and wielding his bat with competence, he draws
natural comparison with current Indian head coach Ravi Shastri.
Making his ODI debut in 2014 against Bangladesh and his T20I debut
a year later against Zimbabwe, Patel has picked up 54 wickets at about 30
runs apiece so far in the 49 international matches he has played for India. It
is early days yet for the twenty-four-year-old spinner but his appears to be a
game well suited to the needs of the shorter formats. With keen competition
for the available slots in the shorter format, it remains to be seen how
Patel’s future will turn out.
Karn Sharma
In 2014 when the Sunrisers franchise retained him for the second year at the
IPL auction, Karn Vinod Sharma from Meerut in Uttar Pradesh found
himself thrust into the limelight as the most expensive pick for an uncapped
player. Although he had been around in the domestic first-class circuit since
2007, it was his IPL success in 2013 and 2014 that made the selectors look
at him as a possible international cap. This was a period when they were
still searching for a long-term wrist-spinning prospect. In an international
career spanning exactly three months between September and December
2014, during which he played a T20I against England at Birmingham, two
ODIs against Sri Lanka at Kolkata and Ranchi and a solitary Test at
Adelaide, Sharma did not exactly set the world on fire. Picking up 4 wickets
at 60 runs apiece in the Test and a solitary wicket in the three limited-overs
matches was not enough to earn him a recall. With the emergence of
Yuzvendra Chahal and Kuldeep Yadav, it is unlikely that thirty-year-old
Karn Sharma will get another chance at wearing the India cap.

Jayant Yadav
With Ravichandran Ashwin the only mainstream off-spinner in view, the
selectors have been keeping their eye open for young talent in the genre.
The name of Jayant Yadav from Haryana filtered through to the powers that
be following his early exploits in first-class cricket. His competent lower-
order batting added to his appeal. In 2016, he was first played by the Delhi
franchise in the IPL and then drafted into the ODI side at Vishakhapatnam
against the Kiwis where he bowled just one over and picked up a solitary
wicket. A month later he received a surprising Test call up on a turning
track at the same venue, this time against England alongside Ashwin and
Jadeja. Yadav not only took 4 wickets but also scored useful runs in the
lower middle order. The pattern continued through the series with 9 wickets
in the 3 Tests and a confident 104 in the third Test at Mumbai. Yadav then
played in the first Test against the Australians on a rank turner at Pune
picking up 2 wickets in an Indian loss.
Just as his international career was taking off, Yadav suffered a stress
fracture of the finger, sidelining him from the 2017-18 season. He is back in
training and hopefully set for a longer career ahead.

Washington Sundar
He might have missed being a millennial by a few days but Tamil Nadu’s
nineteen-year-old Washington Sundar’s emergence has been as NextGen as
can be in Indian cricket. Starting his career like Ashwin, as a batsman,
Washington has quickly developed into an impressive off-spinner in the
shortest form of the game.
Drafted into the Pune IPL franchise as a replacement for the injured
Ashwin, Washington picked up 8 wickets from 10 games. Fast tracked into
the Indian ODI side later that year, he was not very effective in a high-
scoring match against Sri Lanka but found himself in his elements in the
T20I format a couple of weeks later. In six matches that he has played since
in India and Sri Lanka, Washington has picked up 9 wickets at an
impressive 15.11 apiece and an economy rate of 5.66 per over—a standout
statistics in the format.
Intriguingly named Washington after an ex-army neighbour (P.D.
Washington) who helped his father Sundar pursue both his studies and an
early career in cricket, young Washington could potentially be the future of
Indian off-spin, at least in the shorter formats, if he fulfils his early promise.
 e Future Is in the Wrist

‘Being a wrist-spinner doesn’t mean you need to have the same

approach as Shane Warne. I loved watching Anil Kumble bowl. I
thought he was great. People said that he didn’t turn the ball. People
focus on what happens to the ball off the pitch but a great batsman is
beaten before the ball pitches.’
—Stuart MacGill

It is interesting to think of a country’s supply of spin bowlers in terms of a

never-ending desert that throws up an oasis unexpectedly. Sometimes the
oasis is of stupendous proportions with an abundance of nourishment,
sometimes just large enough to slake one’s thirst and often one that turns
out to be a mirage leaving the traveler sorely disappointed.
India has gone through this gamut of ‘oasis’ experiences in the past
century and more of spin bowling that has been covered in the pages of this
book. In particular, the stock of left-arm orthodox spinners of quality the
country has been blessed with has been astounding. No less astonishing has
been the steady stream of off-spinners of rare class that have dominated
Indian cricket and fought relentlessly for that (usually) single spot in the XI.
It is not surprising, therefore, that several bowlers of exceptional ability
who fit into those two genres were left behind in the race to the pinnacle of
their trade for reasons not directly attributable to the quality of their craft.
However, the one oasis of spin that has been less than abundant in this
virtual desert has been one of wrist-spin.
The wrist-spinners who have left their indelible marks in the annals of
Indian cricket can be counted on the fingers of a single hand. The names of
Subhash Gupte, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar and Anil Kumble will find their
way into any list of all-time greats of spin bowling not only in India but in
any account written about the game. There were others who gained instant
fame and then faded away without fulfilling their potential. The names of
Narendra Hirwani and Laxman Sivaramakrishnan will fall into that
category. The paucity of purveyors of this rare craft was such that in 2015,
shortly after Shashank Manohar took over as president of the BCCI, he felt
compelled to make a staggering statement reflecting the anguish: ‘There are
no spinners in this country.’
However, a decade after Anil Kumble sent down his last delivery in
Test cricket, suddenly wrist-spin is making a comeback in Indian cricket
(and elsewhere). Surprisingly, the revival started in the shortest format of
the game, long considered a batsman’s domain and a bowlers’ graveyard,
the T20.
While it’s become a matter of conjecture and debate why this should
be so, there is perhaps a simple explanation for the initial success of wrist-
spin in this format. The fact of the matter is that with very little time to
adjust to the type or quality of bowling and under tremendous pressure to
put on high scores, T20 batsmen save precious seconds by not looking at
the hands of bowlers and instead watch the line of the ball once it is on its
way down the pitch. By this time they have already decided the direction in
which they will hit the ball and the stroke they will employ.
One of India’s best players of spin bowling, Dilip Vengsarkar,
confirms this when he tells me: ‘You read them either from the hand or the
seam position as the ball travels. Many batsmen are doing neither today
even as they line up to hit the ball.’130 Bishan Bedi says: ‘Batsmen today do
no self analysis about how they face up to spinners and don’t even watch
the hands.’131
What is remarkable in this whole story is the confidence that wrist-
spinners are gaining from the T20 format across the mushrooming leagues
and international fixtures is helping them experiment and transport this
confidence into longer formats of the game. The success that Kuldeep
Yadav and Yuzvendra Chahal have enjoyed in international cricket since
early 2018 is testimony to the robustness of the future of this genre for
Indian cricket.
South Africa January 2018
The world’s No. 1 side, Virat Kohli’s India, had just lost the Test series 1-2,
the first series loss for India’s combative leader. What was billed as India’s
best chance to win a series after two-and-a-half decades of disappointments
had turned into yet another instance of ‘could have been’.
In the last Test, India played four fast bowlers on a spiteful pitch, all
hurtling the cherry down at over 140 kilometres per hour. Incredibly for an
Indian team, there were no spinners in the team. Virat Kohli had turned
conventional wisdom on its head and stunned the Proteas into submission
on a pitch that was supposed to facilitate a 3-0 South African whitewash.
But it had all been too little too late.
The press was baying for blood and the enhanced 280 characters on
Twitter were struggling to cope with the venom. Captain and coach, Virat
Kohli and Ravi Shastri, both unpopular with a section of the press and the
public obsessed with the ‘Kumble-Kohli-showdown’ hangover, were losing
their cool at the post-match press conferences.
It was in this backdrop that the players changed from whites to
brights. It was time to pit their skills against each other with the white ball
in the 6-match ODI series.
What followed was a display of world-class wrist-spin dominance
from both ends of the pitch, the likes of which South Africa had not
witnessed in years, prompting Ian Chappell to write about the contribution
of the Indian wrist-spinning duo Kuldeep and Chahal in India’s 5-1 sweep
of the ODI series:
‘The domination of South African batsmen by wrist-spinners is
nothing new. Kuldeep and Chahal join a list dominated by Australian wrist-
spinners who have decimated South African batting line-ups all the way
back to 1935-36 and the dynamic duo of Bill ‘Tiger’ O’Reilly and Clarrie
‘the Fox’ Grimmett. Grimmett averaged 14.59 and O’Reilly 17.04.
Nevertheless, in helping India to clinch the ODI series, Kuldeep, with 17
wickets at 13.88, and Chahal, with 16 at 16.37, managed to improve on the
amazing figures of the Australian combination.’

Kuldeep Yadav
Writing in The Hindu in early 2017, former Wisden editor Suresh Menon
made an important observation: ‘Of all the arts of bowling, the most
difficult—and therefore the rarest and by extension, the most exciting—has
to be left-arm wrist-spin, also known as the “chinaman”. That India, a
country renowned for spin bowlers, had to wait over eight decades and
more than 500 Tests before their first “chinaman” bowler made his debut
tells its own story.’
He was talking about Kuldeep Yadav, the latest addition to the list of
quality spinners unveiled by India with seemingly metronomic regularity.
Menon went on to say: ‘The left-arm wrist-spinner, who brings the
ball into the right-hander, also tends to run on to the wicket in his follow
through. The stakes—physical, psychological, emotional—are high. It
needs a captain with rare understanding of the craft to nurture such a
bowler.’
In Kuldeep’s case, it was not the captain but a coach with this rare
understanding of the craft, Anil Kumble, who in his brief stint with the
Indian team, showed the confidence that enabled the young bowler to make
his debut in Tests. One may well point to the fact that it was perhaps
fortuitous that in Ajinkya Rahane, deputising as captain for an injured Virat
Kohli, Kumble found a willing ear for his advice and it is to this that
Kuldeep owes his debut. That would, however, be unfair on Kohli who is a
very clever leader of men and someone who recognises when he is on to a
good thing. The captain has shown enormous faith in the young bowler
since his debut.
The current coach, Ravi Shastri, courted controversy (which he is no
stranger to) by going on record after the 2018-2019 Australia tour in an
interview with Cricbuzz: ‘I was very impressed with the way Kuldeep
bowled in Sydney. Even in Test cricket it is going to be the age of wrist-
spin, especially in overseas Test cricket. The way he bowled in Sydney he
becomes our number one spinner in overseas Test cricket.’ Fans of
Ravichandran Ashwin are suitably outraged. Only posterity will tell us how
this pans out.
When Kuldeep Yadav made his Test debut in the last Test of the series
at Dharmsala (on what was widely expected to be a pace-friendly pitch)
against Australia in March 2017, no one had seen him play outside the IPL.
In picking up 4 for 68 in the first innings, he impressed everyone as the
Australian batsmen were unable to read him.
 He had to wait a few months for his second chance which he got
against Sri Lanka in the third Test at Kandy later that year. His haul from
the Test was 5 wickets, four coming in the first innings. A single innings
and 9 unproductive overs at Lord’s, perhaps the worst pitch on which to
blood a spinner in England, could not have done much for his confidence,
but three Tests at home against the West Indies followed by the one at
Sydney has seen the young bowler hold his own.
In his brief 6-Test career so far, he has 24 wickets at 24.12. It is a start
that holds much promise for future.
In ODI, Kuldeep has so far played 51 matches picking up 93 victims
at a cost of 24 runs each. His 18 T20I have yielded him 35 victims at a truly
remarkable 13.00 each.
It is early days yet in his career. He is just twenty-four, but the rapid
maturity in his bowling (with a remarkably smooth action for a Chinaman
bowler) as he has gained in experience and confidence, is striking.
Sanjay Manjrekar has repeatedly commented on the fearlessness with
which he tosses the ball up above eye level even in T20 cricket, and the
loop and the guile with which he traps his victims. Ian Chappell notes:
‘He’s a rarity for his breed in that he’s much more accurate than the average
left-arm wrist-spinner.’
Syed Kirmani is a big fan. He told me: ‘Kuldeep Yadav is a rare
species of bowler and believe me, he is going to be very successful. He has
lovely variation, a nice little loop in the air. He takes so many wickets
because he flights it.’132
I asked Bishan Bedi about what he thinks about Kuldeep. ‘I like him. I
like the joy that he exhibits in his bowling and he transmits it to the
spectators. My fear is his novelty might wear off quickly in the shorter
version whereas we should be preserving him for Test matches.’133
Time will tell whether Kuldeep justifies the faith these stalwarts of the
game are placing on him, but for the moment the future looks promising.

Yuzvendra Chahal
In as much as Kuldeep is unusual in how rare a craft it is that he represents,
the background of his wrist-spin twin in the Indian team is even more
intriguing.
 Yuzvendra Chahal was a FIDE-rated chess player before he was a
cricketer. He represented India at the World Youth Chess Championships
but gave up the game when he failed to find a sponsor to meet his training
expenses. Chess’ loss was cricket’s gain.
At a time when India was struggling to find a quality leg-spinner and
experimenting with bowlers steeped in mediocrity like Karn Sharma, after
having tried out Amit Mishra and Piyush Chawla on multiple occasions, the
rise of Yuzvendra Chahal came as a breath of fresh air.
Making his debut against Zimbabwe in 2016, Chahal made an impact
in his very second match picking up 3 wickets for just 25 runs, leading his
side to an 8-wicket victory. In February 2017 he made world headlines in a
T20I against a strong England line-up, picking up 6 for 25. By doing so, he
also became the first Indian bowler to take five wickets or more in a T20I
and the first leg-spinner in the world to achieve this. To seal his class on the
format, he also took the most wickets (23) by any bowler in all T20I in
2017.
Despite both being wrist-spinners, Chahal’s bowling style could not be
more different from Kuldeep’s. Coming in from a greater height, Chahal
employs a Kumble-like flatter, skittish trajectory. But unlike Kumble,
Chahal slows the ball down significantly and mixes flight and variation
cleverly to outfox batsmen. In Dilip Doshi’s words, ‘He doesn’t toss the ball
up, but he flights it.’134
In the Wild West that is the world of the T20 and (to a lesser extent)
the ODI, his flight and variation is a potent weapon against batsmen whose
basic instinct is to clobber the ball with pre-determined strokes. Chahal
succeeds because he remains unfazed when he gets hit and just goes back
and flights the ball again with the certainty that in the end he will prevail.
Playing 49 ODIs thus far, Chahal has sent back 84 victims at an
average of 26.36. In T20I, his 45 wickets have come at a much thriftier
19.93 runs apiece. Like Kuldeep, he has not been found wanting on foreign
pitches, recording his best figures of 6 for 43 against New Zealand at
Napier in early 2019.
Whereas Kuldeep has been tested and found to be effective in the Test
arena, Chahal is yet to get a chance to perform in the highest form of the
game. The way he is maturing, however, one suspects the day he substitutes
the white ball for the red is not far off.
 e Future Is in the Wrist?
Since Narendra Hirwani and Anil Kumble bowled in tandem in England,
there has rarely been an instance of two wrist-spinners occupying the
tweaker slots in the Indian XI. Under Virat Kohli, it has become a common
sight to find Kuldeep and Chahal bowling from either end. An aggressive
captain and two attacking wrist-spinners bowling in tandem is a potent
combination indeed.
Chahal explains: ‘Kuldeep and I go by the situation and since both of
us are attacking bowlers, we go for wickets. Depending on the match
situation, we look at things. If he bowls first, I tell him where the ball is
spinning from and how we can get batsman out. Because we both look for
wickets there is no point in playing safe. You don’t win matches that way.’
In looking at their future as Test bowlers, this is exactly what Dilip
Doshi points out: ‘Chahal and Kuldeep are successful in the shorter formats
right now because batsmen have only 4 or 10 overs to go after runs and
eventually they will. Their success in Tests will depend on them developing
a stock ball with which they keep pegging away over after over and
introduce the variations on it, which is what will get the wickets.’135 After
just 6 Test matches, Kuldeep’s haul of 24 wickets at 24.1 apiece already
suggests that great things may well be expected from the duo in the red ball
format in the years to come.
Kapil Dev believes, ‘These two boys will need to work on their
bodies, their shoulder strength. Two kilometres faster through the air will
make all the difference as they play the longer format. You can always bowl
slowly but do you have the pace to get the rip off the wicket? They are both
very talented and unorthodox. In India, after the third day of a Test match,
once they get this bit right, they will tear the opposition apart.’136
As of now India is in an enviable position. Ashwin and Jadeja are a
potent combination in Tests. Notwithstanding Ravi Shastri’s recent
statements, Kuldeep comes in as the third spinner on occasions that warrant
his presence. With Ashwin’s penchant for picking up injuries early on in
tours recently, Kuldeep has been getting more chances.
As Kapil Dev put it with a smile: ‘When you eventually have four
spinners (Ashwin, Jadeja, Kuldeep and Chahal) of such talent to choose
from in a Test match and the captain picks two, you can’t blame the captain
regardless of which two he has picked. That will be a good problem to
have.’137
Shishir Hattangadi is certain that India’s spin future is in good hands
when he says about the four: ‘They are a reflection of the metamorphosis of
bowling in modern day cricket. Different angles, use of delivery points,
crease speeds, making bowling an innovative art, not mechanical.’138
In limited-overs cricket, Kuldeep and Chahal have almost shut the
door on their more experienced colleagues. Ravindra Jadeja has stormed his
way back into the team on occasion since his excellent comeback in the
2018 Asia Cup, particularly on helpful pitches. But on flat pitches, the wrist
twins Kuldeep-Chahal (or ‘Kulcha’ as social media often refers to the duo)
combination is a potent one, as they proved more than once before and
during the 2019 World Cup in England.
If Kuldeep and Chahal do fulfil their destiny, it will be the start of
another golden era in the history of Indian spin bowling. The new wizards
will have arrived.
 Powerplay
THE FINAL SPIN
 Spinners Cannot Be Captains?

‘Any captain can only do his best for the team and for cricket. When
you are winning, you are a hero. Lose, and the backslappers fade
away.’
—Richie Benaud

As of 2018, India has had thirty-three Test captains, only two of whom have
been spinners (with a reasonable cut-off of having captained in at least 10
Tests). Only Bishan Singh Bedi and Anil Kumble have captained India in
more than 10 Tests each, of the 532 that India had played until the end of
2018.
Indian selectors have traditionally preferred to give the best batsman
in the team the most coveted job in Indian sport. A glance through India’s
thirty-three Test captains makes that clear enough. It is not specifically a
philosophy that disparages the intelligence, cricketing brains and leadership
qualities of spinners but that of bowlers in general. In the Indian context,
given the dependence the country has had on the spinners and the yeoman
service they have rendered, it is particularly galling for the twirlymen that
by overlooking them for the captaincy it is as if they have been treated as
second-class citizens.
Kersi Meher-Homji, noted cricket historian and author of bestsellers
like The Waugh Twins, From Bradman to Kohli and Cricket Conflicts and
Controversies, explains the thinking behind the convention: ‘Batsmen have
more time to think when their team is fielding. Bowlers have to think of
their bowling all the time when fielding and perhaps less time to think of
strategies. Second in frequency as captains are eminent all-rounders; Richie
Benaud, Imran Khan, Kapil Dev, Ian Botham … perhaps the thinking is that
if an all-rounders’ bowling suffers due to their non-stop thinking as captain
they can make up with their batting.’139
Spiro Zavos, author and columnist at the Sydney Morning Herald and
a former first-class cricketer himself, has a view on the issue that the
selectors perhaps don’t always consider: ‘Spinners have to work out the
weaknesses of batsmen in order to dismiss them. They cannot rely, as fast
bowlers and even medium pacers do, on pace or bounce to force a
dismissal. A spin bowler learns to understand, say, from the grip of a
batsman or his stance or his back-lift, where his strengths and weaknesses
may lie, and then, if he is good enough, what delivery or sequence of
deliveries will dismiss the batsman. Bowlers too, especially spin bowlers,
need to know a lot about field placements. But, curiously enough, spin
bowlers and bowlers in general have not been made captains of Test sides.
The theory that has been applied in virtually all the Test sides over the
decades is that one of the best batsmen in the side should be made the
captain.’140
This raises some very fundamental questions which I thought were
worth addressing while we wrap up this journey of Indian spin. Is India
alone in embracing this philosophy? Does the Indian experience justify this
stance? Could the journey have been different if the masters of guile had
been given the reins of the team? Why would you not give the leadership to
those who thrive on out-thinking and out-manoeuvring their opponents and
indeed whose success depends on this skill?

‘Spinner-Captain’ e Global Experience

To start the search for our ‘spinner-captains’, appropriately enough we go
down under to the country that won the first-ever Test match. Australia has
had 46 Test captains till date, only two of whom have been spinners. To the
selectors’ credit, both Ian Johnson and Richie Benaud led the team for more
than 10 Test matches each.
England’s experience is simply staggering. Of the 80 Test captains,
only one, Ray Illingworth, was a spinner. Given the fact that cricket’s
mother country has boasted players from Bernard Bosanquet who invented
the googly to Hedley Verity, whose name still stands against the best
bowling figures ever in first-class cricket (a reminder that his 10 for 10 was
taken in England), to Derek ‘Deadly’ Underwood who was the most
dangerous bowler ever on sticky wickets, it is indeed a statement that only
one of eighty captains was a spin bowler.
To round off the sample, it’s worth looking at the experience of the
West Indies, a country not known for producing pitches conducive to spin
bowling. Of the 37 Test captains only Carl Hooper could be labelled a
regular spinner, and it would be an insult to treat Sir Garfield Sobers as
anything other than the world’s greatest all-rounder, who bowled both pace
and spin. This makes him ineligible within our spin parameter.
Are the results shocking? No, because they are not unexpected for
anyone who follows the sport closely. Yes, because for Australia they make
up only 4 per cent of the captains, 1 per cent for England and 3 per cent for
the West Indies and 6 per cent for India. But in fact, India is worse than the
others because of its traditional dependence on spinners, of whom there
have rarely been less than two playing together in any given Test match.
Hence, giving the captaincy to only two spinners out of the thirty-three who
led the country is nothing short of insulting to the Wizards who have served
India over the past eighty-seven years of Test cricket.

e Indian Experience
Besides Bedi and Kumble, Vinoo Mankad and Ghulam Ahmed also led
India in a few Tests. But their stints hardly had the unequivocal backing of
the administration. Let’s take the case of Vinoo Mankad. One full series
against Pakistan, less than a decade after independence, on unhelpful
wickets where each side was desperate not to lose, hardly sets up the stage
for demonstration of captaincy brilliance. In the case of Ghulam Ahmed,
one among four captains in a 5-Test merry-go-round series against New
Zealand, followed by 2 Tests three years later at the end of his career
against the West Indies, was hardly the basis on which his captaincy could
be judged. Meher-Homji, who is probably the biggest living fan of Indian
captain and batsman Vijay Hazare, makes a telling statement when he tells
me: ‘Vinoo Mankad should have captained India more often than specialist
batsman Vijay Hazare.’141
 In more modern times, Ravi Shastri, made captain for a single Test
against the West Indies in 1988 in place of an injured Dilip Vengsarkar,
handed a young Hirwani his debut at Madras, managed him adroitly to hand
the marauding visitors their first defeat against India in nine years, and
levelled the series. That was the first and last time he led the country.
Srinivas Venkataraghavan enjoyed a run that closely paralleled Vinoo
Mankad’s. His longest stint was leading India in a 4-Test series in England
in 1979, with only Bedi among the other three of the former Quartet in the
side. India lost the Test match at Birmingham and at the Oval, Sunil
Gavaskar’s 221 chasing 438 in the fourth innings almost made one of the
greatest Test victories possible. Venkataraghavan decided to tinker with the
batting order with the most unlikely of victories in sight and waited to send
in Vishwanath until it was too late, sending young Kapil Dev instead to
bring in a quick win. This time, unlike other times when this had been
attempted, Kapil failed. Yajurvindra Singh said Venkataraghavan panicked.
‘There were five of us padded up and none of us knew which of us was next
in.’ Mike Brearley would later write in The Art of Captaincy: ‘It was not
merely second-guessing that made me think the change in their order had
been a mistake’.
That was the end of Venkat’s shot at captaincy, for making a wrong
call that could very well have been right on any other day. Venkat was the
outlier in that Spin Quartet, the most conservative of the four, tight-fisted in
his approach, cerebral to the point of overthinking, unwilling to take
chances as his peers won’t do. But then sending in Kapil Dev was hardly
conservative, and if anything, it was inspired, reflecting the desire to win.
I asked one of the most attacking captains India has had, Bishan Bedi,
for his views on Venkat’s captaincy. Bedi tells me unequivocally: ‘Venkat
was a conscientious leader, one of the real good captains I played under.
Captaincy is about how committed you are to the particular job and to the
ten others in the team. Here Venkat scored very high in my book.’142 That is
a significant endorsement indeed. In the light of the facts, one can indeed
sympathise with Venkat for becoming yet another example of the selectorial
short term-ism that Indian cricket is littered with.
Anil Kumble’s case is a very curious one. An unwavering
commitment to the team cause, 619 Test wickets, a will to fight and win
under all circumstances, one would think was reason enough to trust him
with the job of captaining India. And indeed it was, after he had played 118
Test matches over seventeen years. Kumble’s interpretation that he had
been made captain by default because Dravid had retired, Tendulkar didn’t
want the job and Dhoni was too inexperienced, can hardly be faulted.
Kumble led India in 14 Tests, winning three, losing five and drawing
the remaining six. He began his tenure with a 1-0 series win over Pakistan
and also led India to a memorable victory over Australia in Perth in 2008.
I asked Syed Kirmani about his impressions of Kumble as a captain
and this is what he had to say: ‘Anil Kumble was a match-winning bowler
but he would give preference to his spinning colleagues and very
intelligently come on to bowl looking into circumstances, and situations of
the game. (He was) a thinking bowler, a very gutsy captain.’143
Kumble had to face one of the most difficult phases as a captain in his
last series in Australia. Mike Coward tells me about the time:
‘“Monkeygate” was a dreadful stain on the game and on the Border-
Gavaskar Trophy. It exhibited the worst of the modern game. Both
Symonds and Harbhajan were irascible, provocative characters with little
regard and respect for the conventions and history of the game. And both
lacked public support. Their behaviour was disgraceful and unacceptable
and probably received much more media coverage than it deserved. Once
Tendulkar was involved, this was inevitable.’144
But these are the situations that bring out the best in captains. Coward
goes on to say: ‘Captaincy demands much more than exceptional natural
talent as a practitioner. It requires exceptional character, natural leadership
skills and political and diplomatic nous that Anil Kumble so admirably
demonstrated during his challenging time in office in Australia in 2007-08.’
The selectors clearly did not think so.
The only one among the Indian spinners who had a reasonably long
opportunity as the leader of the pack was Bishan Bedi. Given a 22-Test stint
over a continuous three-year period from 1975-76 to 1978-79, Bedi won 6,
lost 11 and drew 5 matches. But mere numbers don’t do justice to his time
at the helm. For the first time since Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi, India had a
captain who was willing to take risks to win matches. Dull draws and
defensive posturing that was common to the batsmen-captains of the
Bombay school of cricket, was alien to the Sardar of Spin.
Kirmani who kept to Bedi for many years at his peak tells me: ‘Bishan
the genius, as captain, no doubt, led from the front, was ready to come on
when the team was in crisis, never hesitated to take the blame unlike other
bowlers who would back off when the team is on road to defeat.’145
Kapil Dev calls Bedi a great motivator and credits him with giving
confidence and self-belief to his players that they could compete with the
best.
While India rejoiced in the 1971 victories in the West Indies and
England that came under the stewardship of Ajit Wadekar, a couple of
things are clear to anyone analysing the two famous series. Wadekar was
leading possibly the most impactful team India had ever put together until
that point, the credit for which had to go to Pataudi. The two Test victories
that ultimately resulted in the series wins came from wickets taken by
bowlers groomed by the Nawab. Bhagwat Chandrasekhar did not find
himself in the team to West Indies and while Prasanna did make the tour, he
was clearly under bowled.
Wadekar favoured Venkataraghavan’s run-saving approach to
Prasanna’s perceived profligacy. But for the two brilliant dismissals of
Garry Sobers and Clive Lloyd at Port of Spain by Salim Durani (legend has
it that Wadekar gave Durani the ball on Jaisimha’s advice), the West Indies
series victory may have remained a pipe dream. Without Chandra’s 6 for
38, the Oval win would have remained unimagined. So the victories in the
two series, if one is blunt in one’s analysis, came despite the
conservativeness of Wadekar as a captain, not because of it.
Sunil Gavaskar was a leader in the same mould and followed the same
‘khadoos’ (stubborn) philosophy of cricket that frowned upon taking
chances. Victories were welcome as long as they didn’t come with the risk
of a loss. The thirty draws from his 47 Test stint as captain bears testimony
to that approach.
Bowlers under his watch are less than reticent in their comments about
the lack of freedom to experiment and tempt batsmen into making mistakes.
When he did take an obdurate stance, it was usually related to batting
issues, often his own. The (fortunately) unsuccessful attempt to walk off
with partner Chetan Chauhan in Australia and concede the match was
clearly out of character—surprising indeed for someone who did not like
taking the chance of losing a match in a bid to win it. Years later Gavaskar
would admit that his move had been impulsive and ill-advised and not
something he would do if he could turn the clock back.
 Kapil Dev calls Gavaskar a ‘reserved captain, a thinking captain. He
would point out the weaknesses of batsmen. The issue for most batsman-
captains of our time (which has changed today) was that they would do the
thinking for both batsmen and bowlers. It makes the captain more
conservative when bowlers get hit.’146
Bedi, on the other hand, was the ‘Eve’ of the Garden of Cricket. He
thrived on temptation. If you were not deceived by the flight, there was
always the length and the angle to tackle. Sooner or later, the trap would
close and you would succumb as a batsman. His philosophy as a captain
was no different.
Kapil talks about Bedi again telling him and other bowlers: ‘Doesn’t
matter that you’ve been hit for two boundaries. Come on, be there, you are
better than that, do it again.’147 The end game was to beat the opponent.
Going home with honours shared was for cowards. There was no reward
without the risk. Just as he was ready for himself or his bowlers to be hit for
a few boundaries lulling a batsman into a false sense of security, showing
the opponent the window of opportunity as a captain was just a prelude to
shutting the door in his face. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t
but at the end of the day as far as Bedi was concerned, it would always be a
victory for the game.
This is why Bedi did things other captains could not fathom.
At Sabina Park in 1976, the unrelenting fast bowling deliberately
unleashed by Clive Lloyd to target the bodies of Indian batsmen, was met
by a typical Bedi response. In Bodyline Autopsy David Frith writes about
the time Australian wicketkeeper Bert Oldfield was hit in the chest by
Harold Larwood and compares Aussie captain Woodfull’s response to that
of Bedi in 1976: ‘The captain later regretted not closing the innings there
and then as a mark of disgust as Bishan Bedi was to do forty-three years
later at Sabina Park, Jamaica as a protest against intimidating bowling with
India 306 for 6. He did the same in the second innings when India were 97
for 5, with two batsmen nursing head injuries, one a broken finger and two
tail-enders with hands damaged while fielding. He later amended his
statement: the innings had finished with these five unable to bat. The match
was lost by 10 wickets thirteen days after India had scored 406 for 4 to beat
West Indies, who had three spinners, in Trinidad.’
A few months later when England came to India, a left-arm medium-
pacer John Lever suddenly turned unplayable picking up 7 for 46 and 3 for
24 with his swing at the Ferozeshah Kotla. It later emerged that he had been
using Vaseline-impregnated gauze on his eyebrows and rubbing the
Vaseline on the ball which resulted in the incredible swing. The captain,
Tony Greig, and the English board blamed the physiotherapist for the
mistake in his recommendation of the gauze to keep away sweat. Bedi went
public with the accusation of cheating.
Greig later admitted: ‘It was a very silly thing to do because under the
laws of the game, if you introduce a foreign substance onto the ball it is
clearly cheating.’ At the time, however, Greig would say: ‘Bedi was
grasping at straws as he was under a tremendous amount of pressure.’ The
Indian board came to an agreement with their English counterparts that this
would not be pursued, and Bedi received none of the support he could have
justifiably expected. Instead, the English narrative would become the
official version.
Then in his final series as captain in Pakistan, with India leading the
ODI series 1-0, the teams met at Sahiwal. India was not far from
overhauling Pakistan’s score with 23 runs to get in 14 balls. For a while the
Pakistani bowlers had been bowling too wide and short for the Indian
batsmen to touch the ball, clearly under instructions from captain Mushtaq
Mohammad.
Then with Gundappa Vishwanath at the crease, in the 37th over of the
match, Sarfraz Nawaz bowled four successive deliveries well beyond
Vishwanath’s reach. The Pakistani umpires who proudly counted
themselves as an extension of the team, were unmoved by the pleas of
negative tactics or indeed the unplayable height and width of the deliveries.
Bedi asked Anshuman Gaekwad and Vishwanath to come back to the
pavilion, and conceded the match. It was the first ODI in history that had
ended this way.
For Bishan Bedi, cricket was a sport to be won or lost fairly. If
someone did not follow that principle, it was not cricket.
That is not to say everything Bedi did as captain was right, far from it.
He suffered from the quintessential issue of over bowling himself at the
expense of others. His fellow Quartet members had pointed this out as well.
The final Test against England in 1977 is a case in point. In the second
innings with Bedi himself injured, and the pitch taking spin, he kept
bowling himself until he had to finally leave the field. Prasanna comments
in his book One More Over about that instance: ‘Bedi thought he could do it
all himself.’ He goes on to say: ‘Had Bedi brought on Ghavri earlier, to
support me on the final day, we might have managed it (dismissing
England).
As it turned out, when Bedi went off the field, Gavaskar took over the
captaincy mantle. Knowing the skill of Karsan Ghavri as a slow left-arm
bowler (he was in the side as an opening bowler), Gavaskar threw him the
ball. Bowling from the two ends, Ghavri and Prasanna almost took India
home, England collapsing from 34 for 1 to 152 for 7, Ghavri picking up 5
wickets. As Ghavri told me wryly: ‘That was one of my two 5-wicket hauls
and the only 5 wickets I took bowling spin. If Bishan had been on the field,
I would never have got the ball. I never got another over of left-arm spin as
long as he was captain.’148

e Broader View
In the course of writing this book, I discussed the issue of spinners and
more broadly bowlers as captain with several cricketers. While most were
of the opinion that perhaps more spinners should have been handed the
captaincy, and those who were should have had a longer rope, it was always
going to be the case that batsmen thought they made better captains and
bowlers believed if only…
So, in order to gather a more balanced perspective, I decided to speak
to a few respected neutral observers of the game over the past several
decades whose considered views carry much weight in the world of cricket.
Mike Coward’s reply as always is abundant in its clarity of thought
and leaves no room for interpretations: ‘As Richie Benaud demonstrated so
powerfully, there is no reason why a spinner cannot be a leader of great
distinction. Of course, there are those who would argue that Benaud was an
all-rounder although it is fair to say he was primarily seen as a fine leg-
spinner who was given a long time to develop. Ian Chappell and Bob
Simpson were also more than useful leg-spinners and Ian Johnson led as an
off-spinner.’149
David Frith was more philosophical on the issue when he told me: ‘It
is indeed surprising that spinners have captained Test sides so infrequently.
But it’s always been a batsman’s game, like it or not, despite the fact that
the slow bowlers have tended to be the more thoughtful and shrewd of
participants.’150
Spiro Zavos backed up his unequivocal stance with examples. ‘Richie
Benaud showed that a bowler of quality can be a quality captain. Bishan
Bedi, I thought, was an excellent captain. On the other hand, Ian Johnson
was a poor captain. The point here, though, is that Johnson was picked
because of his background as a doyen of the Melbourne sporting
establishment and also because there was a reluctance by the Australian
Board of Control to give the Australian captaincy to Keith Miller. The same
reluctance was shown to Shane Keith (as in Keith Miller) Warne. Both
Miller and Warne would have made great captains. Both were larger than
life, on and off the field. However, another larger-than-life character, Ian
Botham, was a poor captain.’151
Zavos also had the last word on the topic: ‘It is not the particular
cricketing skill, whether batting or bowling, that should be the test about
who should be the captain. But bowlers should not be excluded from being
considered just because they are bowlers.’
If selectors around the world were to embrace this simple philosophy,
the future of cricket might well be changed by a few good men with twirl in
their fingers, guile in their approach and an indefatigable spirit that will not
be satisfied with anything less than a positive outcome to their efforts.
 Acknowledgements

When you write a book of this length seeking to tell the story of several
generations of cricketers, the effort involved is naturally significant. But
this effort would have been largely fruitless but for the unstinting support
and help from many people, from cricketers, to journalists, to writers, to
friends and family, than I can possibly thank in this section. Nonetheless,
here it goes. If I missed anyone, the fault is entirely mine and you can be
rest assured that will be rectified in the next edition.

Gulu Ezekiel—journalist, writer, collector—without whose infectious

enthusiasm and support this book would not have seen the light of day.

Rohit Brijnath—a writer whose ability to string words and emotions

together continues to leave me awestruck. He encouraged me to write a
book on the Spin Quartet, which eventually expanded into this book.

Kersi Meher-Homji—writer, historian, statistician—my mentor and friend,

who continues to be the biggest cheerleader of my writing after my wife. I
am humbled by his praise and grateful for his insights and corrections of my
mistakes.

Kapil Dev—the greatest Indian cricketing idol for me and much of my

generation for consenting to write a wonderful foreword to the book and
spending time with me reliving his encounters with the spinners, and giving
me invaluable insights into their performances and indeed reasons for
failures for some.

Cricketers I had always admired as a fan and tragic. They spent hours in
my company reminiscing about their own careers and giving me valuable
insights on their seniors, contemporaries and juniors. Their trust in my
ability to transfer their memories and views into the written word and
willingness to discuss the finer points of the game as they would do with a
fellow professional, has been truly humbling and gratifying. I hope they are
happy with the outcome—Abbas Ali Baig, Madhav Apte, Rahul Mankad,
Kapil Dev, V. Ramnarayan, Karsan Ghavri, Dilip Doshi, Erapalli Prasanna,
Bishan Bedi, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar, Syed Kirmani, Ian Chappell, Dilip
Vengsarkar, V.V.S. Laxman, Gopal Bose, Raju Mukherjee, Deep Dasgupta,
Lalchand Rajput, Shishir Hattangadi and Robin Hobbs—Thank you.

Mike Coward—for his invaluable insights and memories of the spinners.

Spiro Zavos—For his encouragement over the years and his excellent
insights into captaincy by bowlers.

David Frith—His appreciation of my writing and my passion for cricket

history has been humbling and tremendously encouraging. His stories on
spinners and his views have added immeasurably to this book.

My wife Anisha—who read every chapter as it was written and gave me

invaluable feedback about the content, style, length and flow. I followed a
simple rule—any chapter which failed to hold her attention, was re-written,
and read immeasurably better for the changes. Olu lay patiently by her side
wagging her tail in agreement.

My father-in-law Arun Roy who has been a huge supporter of my writing.

His infectious enthusiasm as I met some of my cricketing heroes for the
first time while writing the book, has added to the pleasure of the
encounters.

My friends—Ananthakrishnan, Vish Sivaswami, Vishwanath

Ananthakrishnan, Milind Wagle, Conrad D’Souza and Vikram Bakshi who
have been enormously encouraging and with much effort on their part
helped me connect with some of the cricketers central to the book. Other
friends like Chinmoy Jena, Rohit Beri and Prakul Chandra who have been
continually encouraging over the years and read a few chapters each, giving
me invaluable critical feedback. The friends and family who have
encouraged me to keep writing through my four books and have enquired
about this book through the course of its writing.

The newspapers, journals and websites who have and continue to support
my writing: Hindustan Times, Sportstar, ESPN Cricinfo, The Cricket
Monthly, Cricket Soccer, Cricket Writer, Cricket Country, Fountain Ink,
Nation of Sport, and The Roar. Also the many writers of the close to 3000
articles and reports I referred to in the course of researching this book. I
couldn’t reference or list them as there were far too many, but my thanks to
each and every one of them.

And finally, my editor, Karthik Venkatesh and the team at Westland for
reposing faith in a banker by day and cricket writer by night to pen the
history of Indian spin bowling like it has never been done before. Karthik,
with his knowledge of spin (his chosen topic for India’s Mastermind show
was spin bowling though he tells me he was on standby and never actually
made the show), has been a fantastic sounding board and a calm head
whenever occasional doubt overtook me over the course of the many
months of researching and writing this book.
 Notes

1. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018

2. A Corner of a Foreign Field, Ramchandra Guha
3. Ibid
4. Ibid
5. Ibid
6. Playing for India, Sujit Mukherjee
7. While captaining the Australian Services Team to India in 1947
8. Indian Summer, John Arlott
9. Farewell to Cricket, Donald Bradman
10. In a personal conversation with the author by email in April 2018
11. In a personal conversation with the author by email in April 2018
12. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
13. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
14. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
15. From Mumbai to Durban: India’s Greatest Tests—S. Giridhar & V.J.
Raghunath
16. In a personal conversation with the author in October 2018
17. In a 2006 interview to H. Natarajan of ESPN Cricinfo—‘Sailing by
banana boat to face the Three Ws’
18. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
19. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
20. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
21. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
22. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
23. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
24. Quote recounted by Dilip Doshi in personal conversation with the
author in March 2018
25. Quote recounted by Dilip Doshi in personal conversation with the
author in March 2018
26. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
27. Quote recounted by Dilip Doshi in personal conversation with the
author in March 2018
28. ‘A bad captain can make a great team look ordinary’—Interview with
Sambit Bal in Wisden Asia Cricket magazine, 2002
29. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
30. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
31. ESPN Cricinfo interview with Sambit Bal
32. In a personal conversation with the author in October 2018
33. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
34. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
35. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
36. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
37. In a personal conversation with the author in October 2018
38. In a personal conversation with the author in August 2018
39. In a personal conversation with the author in August 2018
40. In a personal conversation with the author in August 2018
41. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
42. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
43. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
44. In a personal conversation with the author in August 2018
45. As recounted by Syed Kirmani in personal conversation with the
author in May 2018
46. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
47. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
48. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
49. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
50. In a personal conversation with the author in August 2018
51. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
52. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
53. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
54. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
55. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
56. Extracted from Suresh Menon’s Bishan: Portrait of a Cricketer, where
Menon quotes an article in entirety written by Don Bradman in
appreciation of Bishan Bedi after the 1977-78 series in Australia
57. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
58. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
59. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
60. Bishan, Suresh Menon
61. Ibid
62. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
63. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
64. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
65. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
66. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
67. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
68. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
69. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
70. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
71. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
72. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
73. Bishan, Suresh Menon
74. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
75. In a personal conversation with the author in November 2017
76. In a personal conversation with the author in November 2017
77. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
78. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
79. As recounted by Dilip Doshi in personal conversation with the author
in March 2018
80. As recounted by Raju Mukherjee in personal conversation with the
author in January 2019
81. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
82. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
83. Spin Punch, Dilip Doshi
84. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
85. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
86. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
87. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
88. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
89. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
90. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
91. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
92. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
 93. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
94. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
95. In a personal exchanges with the author by email in May 2018
96. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
97. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
98. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
99. Extracted from Arun Venugopal’s March 2016 article in The Cricket
Monthly—The resurrection of L. Siva
100. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
101. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
102. In a personal conversation with the author in February 2018
103. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
104. In a personal conversation with the author in November 2017
105. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
106. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
107. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
108. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
109. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
110. Democracy’s XI, Rajdeep Sardesai
111. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2019
112. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2019
113. In a personal exchange with the author by email in July 2019
114. In a personal exchange with the author by email in July 2019
115. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2019
116. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
117. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
118. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
119. In a person exchange with the author by email in July 2019
120. In a personal exchange with the author by email in July 2019
121. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
122. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
123. In a personal conversation with the author in October 2018
124. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
125. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2018
126. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
127. In a personal conversation with the author in October 2018
128. In a personal conversation with the author in October 2018
129. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
130. In a personal conversation with the author in December 2019
131. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
132. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
133. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
134. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
135. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
136. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
137. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
138. In a personal exchange with the author by email in July 2019
139. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
140. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
141. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
142. In a personal conversation with the author in July 2018
143. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
144. In a personal exchange by email with the author in March 2018
145. In a personal conversation with the author in May 2018
146. In a personal conversation with the author in January 2019
147. In a personal conversation with the client in January 2019
148. In a personal conversation with the author in March 2018
149. In a personal exchange with the author by email in March 2018
150. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
151. In a personal exchange with the author by email in May 2018
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 S&G/PA Images via Getty Images
Vinoo Mankad during India’s tour of England in 1946, where he achieved the rare double of 1000
runs and 100 wickets.
 S&G/PA Images via Getty Images
Subhash Gupte bowling at the nets in England in 1959.
 S&G/PA Images via Getty Images
Erapalli Prasanna bowling at Lord’s against England in the Second Test 1974
 Pearce/Fairfax Media via Getty Images.
Bhagwat Chandrasekhar relaxes after practice before the Test match at the Sydney Cricket Ground in
January 1978.
 PA Images via Getty Images
Srinivas Venkataraghavan bowling at the nets on India’s 1974 tour of England, while Prasanna looks
on.
 Dennis Oulds/Central Press/ Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Bishan Bedi with his beautiful flowing action against Surrey at The Oval in August 1971.
 Dilip Doshi
Dilip Doshi bowling with his lovely action at the Oval in 1982.
 Narender Kumar
Anil Kumble in 2006.
 Narender Kumar
Harbhajan Singh bowling in a Test match in 2005.
 Narender Kumar
Ravichandran Ashwin bowling in an ODI in 2011 with Billy Bowden umpiring.
 Bipin Patel
Kuldeep Yadav, India’s latest exponent of wrist spin with his unique action bowling a chinaman in an
ODI.