Bishan, ‘distinctive human being’, much more than a rebel with causes

 

In February 2017 , Bedi was in Calcutta to deliver The Telegraph's annual Tiger Pataudi Memorial Lecture. Pix appeared with the Author's interview of Bedi in the newspaper

HOW do I begin? Where do I begin? Do I write at all?

Hard to do so when you’re overwhelmed by grief. So, it’s on the day after dear Bish’s demise that I’m making this attempt.

But the questions return: How do I begin? Where do I begin?

Do I start with my first look of Bishan Singh Bedi, in possibly a maroon patka, as a 10-year-old? That was during my Eden Gardens ‘debut’, India vs Australia Test, in the 1969-1970 season.

Or, do I start with my first face-to-face meeting with Bish, as a journalist, in the mid-1980s? I could introduce myself to Bish, no more, as seniors in the profession kept badgering him to add “raunaq” to an impromptu “mehfil” by cracking “non-vegetarian” jokes!

Bish’s response: “Yeh koi time hai kya? Let’s meet at 7.30 in the evening.”

My first (and lasting) impressions of The Legend after a couple of interactions?

That Bish was so full of life, so jovial with a laugh that resonated across even a banquet hall…

So respectful of late Sir Don Bradman and late Sir Frank Worrell, so fond of Sir Garry Sobers and our very own late Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi, his first India captain…

So protective about his players (Sabina Park, 1976), so concerned about the well-being of ground staff…

So scornful of the Establishment, so passionate about cricket in its purest form, not ‘corrupted’ either by fixers or the influx of money…

Above all, Bish was a nationalist, a deep-rooted desh bhakt. He never took to the rooftop of his farmhouse in Mehrauli (‘Cricket Abode’) to proclaim that, but those who knew him well, knew that part of Bish only too well.

Clearly, one to admire.

Some of Bish’s dearest friends reside across the border, in Pakistan, or Pakistanis living in the UK. Like Intikhab Alam and Mushtaq Mohammad, former captains both.

Actually, Bedi had a massive following in Pakistan and was a rage on Revival Tour No.1, in 1978-1979, which marked Kapil Dev’s debut.

Intikhab paid the most emotional tribute: “I’ve lost a part of my heart…” I can visualise Mushtaq weeping in a corner of his Birmingham house. Bish and Mushtaq were, after all, teammates at Northamptonshire in the 1970s.

Each time Mushtaq and I met in Birmingham, his first question would be: “Kaise ho? Aaj raat roti-shoti ke liye free rakhna.” Next, in almost the same breath, would be: “Apna Bishan kaisa hai? Bahut purani dosti hai, tumko toh maloom hai.”

If Intikhab paid the most emotional tribute, historian and cricket aficionado Ramachandra Guha summed up Bish most appropriately: “A distinctive human being.”

Distinctive both as an upright individual and an artistic left-arm spinner. You couldn’t position Bishan into a stereotype.

It wouldn’t have been consciously, but I feel Bish took the distinctive bit a bit too seriously. Particularly when it came to certain observations, like the ones on late Arun Jaitley and Muttiah Muralidharan.

But, then, Bish wouldn’t have been Bish had he held back. Or taken the diplomatic path!

“Look, LP, I don’t have to be politically correct, I’m not dependant on anybody for my bread and butter… I know you’ll hesitate to quote me on one or two aspects about your good friend Sourav Ganguly, so I won’t put you in a quandary,“ Bish told me at the end of Sourav’s career.

Bish wasn’t convinced that his quotes would be published, provided they weren’t libellous.

Player, captain, selector (Bishan was on the committee which picked the 1983 World Cup squad), India’s first coach/cricket manager, mentor… Friend for life.

The only time Bish was annoyed with me was in the latter part of the 1990s when I did a cover story on coaches in The Telegraph’s magazine on Sundays.

I can’t recall what offended Bish, but he telephoned me in office. “LP, what rubbish have you written… Don’t expect any more quotes… I’m going to have a word with Aveek (Sarkar, chief editor then) as well…”

Bish had always been accommodating and was especially nice towards me on the 1990 tour of England, when he was the coach/cricket manager.

Bish, I must add, was as popular as the Kapils and Sachin Tendulkars on that tour. Much of it had to do with his years of County cricket with Northants. And, of course, the colourful personality he was.

Did that call from Bish upset me? Enormously. I waited a few months before telephoning him. “Bish, this is LP…” His answer: “Tell me… What do you want me to speak about?”

That was Bish! Much to my relief, he’d forgotten about the cover story and was game for a chat. Bish didn’t call Aveek to complain, by the way.

At the turn of the Millennium, against the advice of many, I invited Bish to be the chief guest at the prize distribution ceremony of a game-changing chess tournament sponsored by The Telegraph.

Many were against inviting somebody approaching 60, but I held firm. Bish turned out to be as big a hit as Kapil.

Spontaneous gestures made the difference… Personal touches loaded with affection, like lifting a five or six-year-old in their arms, said a lot about both.

An instant connect, irrespective of age, was a feature of Bish. It’s part of Kapil’s persona too.

While on the two… Kapil, who was present at Bish’s funeral on Tuesday, has had nothing but respect for his first India captain.  

Talking of gestures, I remember Bish flying over to Mumbai to watch protégé Murali Kartik make his Test debut, vs South Africa, in February 2000.

Sitting in the President’s Box at the (old) pre-renovated Wankhede, Bish jumped with joy when Kartik got the first of his two victims in South Africa’s innings No.1, Pieter Strydom.

Distressed to talk about Bish at length, Kartik chose to message me: “Paaji came on his own for me… That was paaji.”

“Rebel without a pause” is how Rajdeep Sardesai described Bish on his show hours after his death. I’d amend it slightly to ‘Rebel with many a cause’.

For a while, Bish was intent on a players’ association taking wings. He wanted teammates to have a voice of their own, to demand their rightful due, to not be overawed by businessmen and politicians in the Board. He didn’t meet with success, blaming “vested interests” for failure.

Then, Bish kept pushing for an end to proxy votes in the Delhi & District Cricket Association. Failure there too.

“I can only appeal to people with conscience, not to those who keep their conscience at home,” remains an unforgettable quote from Bish.

Fits in perfectly with Michael Holding’s tribute: “Bishan Singh Bedi was the greatest moral voice of Indian cricket.”

Among the greatest of left-arm spinners over the 22 yards as well… Yet, sad that the Board didn’t utilise Bish’s richness of skill and experience to groom the generations to follow.

The loss wasn’t Bish’s. Ironically, visiting teams had much time for Bish, seeking tips or wanting him to have a look at their spinners.

POSTSCRIPT: Bish had been taking the help of a walking stick for some time, but the last couple of years, in a wheelchair, must have been most difficult for a truly mast aadmi. However, he was blessed to have a loving family, with spouse Anju at the forefront.