By Ananya S Guha
Mansur Ali Khan’s passing away brought back memories. Memories not only of cricket, but a generation of the world’s best cricketers. Garfield Sobers, Rohan Kanhai, John Reid, Wesley Hall to name a few.
And also of technology. The Radio. In those days the radio was the outlet, nay the window to the world, encapsulated by running commentaries. “Good morning listeners! I’m Anant Setalwad reporting from the Brabourne Stadium, Bombay…” The voice resonant, against the backdrop of an obstreperous crowd. More so the animation and the noise was evident; in a venue such as the Eden Gardens, Calcutta.
A Cricket Commentary could be a listener’s delight, in those days. Lala Amarnath’s voice is still etched in the mind.
Variously known as the Nawab of Pataudi, Tiger Pataudi, Mansur Ali Khan, Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi; ‘Pat’ (as he was also popularly known) was the epitome of suavity and a brand ambassador of the game. If one reads his cricketing auto-biography “Tiger’s Tale” one gets a glimpse of the man’s dispassion, his sense of stoic acceptance of his lost eye and above all a talisman of the gentleman’s game that cricket was, in those days. Complementing him were cricketers in India like M. L. Jaisimha, a stylist in both cricket and personality. “Tiger’s Tale” also exemplifies his undaunting spirit for the game and the faith he reposed in all his players though the team had its obvious limitations in the face of the great nations of cricket: in those days the supremos were the West Indies, England and Australia. After having read quite a few cricketing auto-biographies including Sunil Gavaskar’s “Sunny Days” what struck my mind was his total lack of ostentation and an almost spartan but transparent style of writing. There were stories doing the rounds that Pataudi was afflicted with prudery, was friendly only with players who spoke in English, but his book revealed a man who was not only fair to his colleagues but empathized with them on difficult tours such as the one the injury hit Indian team had in England in 1967.
I also recall the winter of 1967 when the West Indies came to India to play a series. There was a virtual riot in the Eden Gardens in Calcutta as ticketless spectators spilled over to the ground. What followed was mayhem, burning stands and tear gassing policemen. This happened just after ‘Pat’ led his men to the field donning a cap. Reflecting on this in his auto-biography, he roundly blamed the Cricket Association of Bengal for mismanaging the tickets and sympathized with the maligned but zealous spectators who had come to see their heroes play.
The ‘Tiger’s’ death has taken away whatever last vestiges we had of this once-upon-a-time ‘Gentleman’s Game’.