As the former all-rounders spoke emotionally, in chaste Punjabi, the onlookers were convinced they were watching a human drama without borders. They were two Punjabis, divided only by a barbed border, opening their hearts out. Indeed, the larger picture of our sport and sportspersons living in a paradoxical coexistence of brotherhood and rivalry was captured in that one tender moment.

Brotherhood and rivalry, do I hear you exclaim? Indeed, for people living on a land mass as an exuberant civilization for 5000 years, have been hostile to one another since Partition in 1947. Come to think of it, if people on either side of the fence could ignore their religious leanings – and perhaps the different roles the military plays in the two nations – they would realise that little separates them. After all, they are from the same stock, their commonalities – cuisine, music, languages, lifestyle and not the least being their shared passion for cricket and cricketers – surely outweighing their differences.

The two young nations with a rich heritage have often allowed 11 men from their lands to manipulate a whole gamut of their collective emotions – from hope to despair, from anger to anxiety, from delight to disappointment. Cricketers as similar and magical as Hanif Mohammed and Sunil Gavaskar, Gundappa Viswanath and Zaheer Abbas, Imran Khan and Kapil Dev, Abdul Qadir and Anil Kumble, Sachin Tendulkar and Inzamam-ul-Haq, Wasim Akram and Zaheer Khan, Bishan Bedi and Waqar Younis have held the two nations in thrall.

Come to think of it, given the fact that there is a shared history – cricket took root in the sub-continent thanks to the British army personnel and players from the region represented India until Partition happened in 1947 – the similarity in cricketers from India and Pakistan as far as style and approach are concerned is not matched by any other pair of nations. Australia and New Zealand are divided by more than just the Tansman Sea. Why, if you look closely, you will notice significant differences between cricketer from various countries who come together and play for the West Indies

Then again, it is probably these very similarities that sometimes drive a wedge between the cricket fans of the two nations. We may have been better off playing cricket in one another’s soil rather than indulge in off-shore contests. The rivalry in neutral territory did not do India-Pakistan cricket any good. I was in Madras – as good old Chennai was then known – when Javed Miandad hit a last ball six off Chetan Sharma in 1986 – but in the years that I covered cricket in Sharjah it became clear that the India-Pakistan matches acquired different overtones. It did not help that India lost 14 of the 15 games in a decade between November 1985 and April 1996. It was tough for even us journalists to venture out without being needled by men of Pakistani origin.

It is not as if Indians and Pakistanis have always been on opposite sides of the table. They have come together to host the World Cup in 1987 and 1996 (along with Sri Lanka). The ICC Cricket World Cup in 2011 would have been the third such instance but the attack on the Sri Lankan team in Lahore took Pakistan as a co-host out of the equation and left India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh to provide the venues for the big event. I also remember being on the fringes of a meeting of the Commonwealth Games Federation in Delhi where the representatives of the Pakistan Olympic Association were fiercely vocal in their support of Delhi as the host of the 2010 Games, going to the extent of seeing themselves as co-hosts. Tennis players, Bangalore’s Rohan Bopanna and Lahore’s Aisam-ul-Haq Qureshi have played 11 doubles finals on the ATP Tour, winning four titles and emerging as ambassadors of peace in their own way.

Curiously, cricket – and all sport – has been used to either build bridges or to convey various other moods. The India and Pakistan XI was a combination of some amazing talent that came together to play a game before the 1996 Cricket World Cup to express solidarity with Sri Lanka as Australia and the West Indies forfeited their games by refusing to play in the island nation. I also remember the key message that the then Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee shared with the Indian team before it went to Pakistan in 2004. “Win Hearts,” he told Sourav Ganguly and his team members.

Contrastingly, by sending back the Pakistani hockey players even before they could turn up in any of the inaugural Hockey India League and by not making any Pakistan cricketer play in the Indian Premier League since the opening season, India has also used sport to convey extremely negative sentiments. Whether we like it or not, sport (and more specifically cricket) has come to be used to signal our political and social moods. There seems to be so little anyone can do to stop cricket from becoming the medium to convey messages – either as a confidence building measure or as a tool to show a lack of confidence.

Far away from the politics of the relationship between the two nations, I have made some wonderful friends from across the border. For instance, when our paths cross during the Indian Premier League, former Pakistan captains Wasim Akram and Rameez Raja and I have conversations like long lost friends. To cite another example, ICC Communications Manager Sami-ul-Hasan goes out of his way to help some of us Indian media persons because of a bond that was forged in 2004 when he was Media Manager of the Pakistan side.

That brings me to one of the most outstanding stories from my life. Back in 2004, nearly five years after the Kargil War, the Indian cricket team embarked on a Test tour of Pakistan after more than a decade and a half. Some of us scrambled at the last minute to be on that trip. I went as a freelance journalist, writing for a website and other publications. It meant that four of us were unable to secure hotel bookings in some places like Peshawar where a one-day international was to be played and Multan which was to host the first Test. We were able to resolve Peshawar without much fuss but, with a day left for us to reach Multan, we had not been able to make any bookings.

I made a frantic call my friend Aneela Khan, a film and TV producer in Karachi and described the situation. She told me she would do the best to help me. She called me within an hour and told me she had arranged for a family to host me, with independent access to the room and vegetarian food too. However, I reminded that the four of us were travelling together and that room was going to be inadequate. Without a murmur, she said she would do her best but would need some more time and promised to call the following day.

We hadn’t heard from her even when we left Lahore for Multan and, as we approached the famed seat of Indus Valley Civilisation, I called Aneela and asked her if it would make sense for us to take rooms in Harappa and drive down to Multan and back each day of the Test. I had not heard a more firm “No!” She was clear that we should proceed to Multan. “You will neither find a place to stay there not will you get even a horse-cart to take you to Multan and back every day,” she warned. We did her bidding, unsure of what awaited us.

None of us would have imagined the reception we got at the Daewoo Station in Multan. There was a group of 25 people, many with thick rose garlands, at hand to welcome us in the ancient city. There were slogans renting the air, too. When he saw the warmth that the four of us was showered with, a fifth Indian journalist decided he would come along with us. Before long, each of us was hosted in a separate car and taken in what seemed like a royal cavalcade. There was not much communication in some of the cars since four of us could not speak Punjabi and our reception committee could not speak much English or our brand of Urdu. But the mood seemed pleasant until my cell phone buzzed with an SMS from one of the Indians in another car.

“Are you sure these are your friends?”

There was little I could do but try raising Aneela’s phone. As luck would have it, it was switched off. And before I could respond to that SMS, I got a text message from another Indian. “Are we being kidnapped?”

I counselled patience and kept trying Aneela. After a half-hour drive alternately in poorly-lit areas and in darkness, we turned past a domed-structure and halted. Though there was some light pouring in from indoors, it was quite dark. More garlands and more slogans later, we were ushered into a large drawing room. Even as I crossed the threshold, I could smell a variety of flowers and fruit – and that is saying something for the quality of fruit since I have poor olfactory sense. Those who drove us in the cavalcade made themselves scarce, leaving the five of us with a couple of men who offered us Kahwah. I must admit there was some hesitation in sipping it because none of the locals was at hand. Cricket was far from the minds of the group of Indian journalists and the conversation focussed on the strange events of the evening.

After about 15 minutes, a tall, bearded man knocked at the door and asked if he could come in. The words were music to the ears since we had not heard any English being spoken by the locals. “May I come in please? I am Jafar Shah Gardezi, owner of this house,” he said. “I am sorry I was not around to welcome you. Actually, I had gone to drop my wife at the Daewoo Station so that she could go to Lahore and I could throw open our farmhouse to you.”

For a week, the five of us lived in the lap of luxury, eating the choicest food and being driven in an SUV to the Multan Cricket Stadium and the buzzing bazaars, to the tombs of saints and a highway dhaba in the dead of a night. I have never known such unconditional warmth and hospitality from people I was meeting for the first time.

Later, towards the end of that tour, I was invited to be on a show on PTV in Islamabad from midnight to 3 am. The first response was an incredulous question: Who on earth will be up to watch a show at that time of the night? I was in for a few surprises. During the three-hour show, featuring two journalists and media managers of both teams, the two anchors not only fielded questions from viewers but also got the pop band Strings to perform the title track of its new album Dhaani live. Most callers were eager to know how the tour had been received back home and had no hesitation in calling us home to have a meal with them.

When I returned on the tour of 2006 – this time as a representative of a news weekly – I was keen on also writing about Pakistani bands that had become immensely popular in India. One of those I was intent on meeting was Shafqat Amanat Ali Khan, who had caught the imagination of music lovers in India with the album, Saagar. A phone call to Ali in Karachi set the ball rolling and barely an hour later, Shafqat himself was calling me and setting up a meeting for the same evening at the hotel in which my photographer colleague Atul Loke and I were staying. For someone who said he had but 15 minutes, Shafqat stayed back for an hour. The flipside was that since it was the month of Moharrum, there would be no photographs. Atul was very disappointed but enjoyed listening to this seventh-generation Patiala gharana master sharing his philosophy of music. Though the man called the Rockstar Ustad has gone on to be a celebrated artiste in the Hindi film industry, Shafqat has stayed in touch. It is another matter that I have not been able to keep my promise of taking him to Patiala that is perhaps his spiritual home.

I believe my Pakistani friends define mehman nawaazi. I cannot, for instance. forget Hanif Tayyab Hassan’s generous hospitality in his Lahore home. Having first met him and his father in 2004 and being aware of his massive love for music, I asked him what he would like from India. He did not hesitate a moment and asked for the bhajan, Raghupati Raghava Raja Ram, sung by Hari Om Sharan. One of the highlights of the evenings at the Tayyabs’ residence in 2006 was the meetings with the earthy man behind the film star Shaan Shahid. There was none of the trappings that you would associate with folk from the silver screen and Shaan, as he is popularly known, would sit down to discuss life in the two nations.

Speaking of love and respect for one another’s talents, I cannot but help recall an incident from India last Test Tour of Pakistan 2006. An India journalists XI was playing against a media team from Karachi that included former Pakistan hockey captain Islahuddin Siddique. He is Meerut-born and it was easy to strike a conversation with him during the game. He asked for a bat from Rahul Dravid’s collection since he admired the elegant Indian’s batting. When I mentioned this to Dravid, the Indian captain did not bat an eyelid and said “Islah is such a big game and it is an honour to be asked to give a bat to him. I will give him one at the end of the tour.” True to his word, Dravid sent for me after India lost the final game in Karachi and handed over a bat to be given to Islahuddin.

Ironic as it may sound, it is when I recall such warmth between sportspersons of the two countries that the paradoxical sight of brilliantly-lit barbed wire fencing on the border between India and Pakistan also springs back to mind. I remember seeing that from a chartered aircraft that was flying some of us from Chandigarh to Lahore for the Wills World Cup final in March 1996: I also recall the thought which surfaced at the time: If that line didn’t exist, many sporting conquests would have been notched up, I told myself.

The romantics will have no doubt that sport, specifically cricket, can be the balm that can soothe wounded sentiments but the realist will point out that the rider that there must be political will to facilitate this role.  The reality is that apart from politics, the commerce of TV rights will not allow the fielding of a joint cricket team. Would we not be denied the unforgettable sight of a whole stadium in Chennai giving the Pakistan squad a standing ovation after it beat the Indian team by a handful of runs 1999? Or, of the National Stadium in Karachi erupting in applause when India won a humdinger of a one-day game by a wafer-thin margin of five runs in 2004 and setting the tone for what will go down as one of the most memorable tours undertaken by the cricket team?

This piece was written for The Equator Line magazine (January-April 2013).

A facsimile of the article as it appeared in DNA, Mumbai

Simply destructive. Try hard as you might sum up Virender Sehwag’s international cricket career in any other manner, this phrase keep springing back. The two words that make up the phrase are the most suitable to describe his approach to batsmanship, striking a strange combination of fear and hope at the same time in the hearts of the opposition. Of course, the free spirit that he brought to the crease came along with a proneness to self-destruction.

He has been one of Indian cricket’s supreme entertainers for years now, not letting either time or location change his mindset. I am among those who believe that Sehwag has not yet gone past his sell-by date in limited-over cricket. Yet, given that the selectors may be looking ahead at the ICC Cricket World Cup 2015 and at building a side that can compete, it is possible that he may not play too many more one-day internationals.

Therefore, this may be a good enough time to try and unravel the conundrum that he has been as far as limited-over cricket is concerned. The 34-year-old Sehwag averages 50.05 and 35.05 runs per innings in Tests and one-day internationals respectively. Not bad figures by themselves but clearly suggesting that he did not achieve as much consistency in the shorter format.

Let us look at what some other entertainers achieve. Australia’s left-handed opener Matthew Hayden, who was as cavalier a batsman, finished his career with batting averages of 50.73 in Tests and 43.80 in one-day internationals. Sri Lanka’ Sanath Jayasuriya ended up with averages of 40.07 and 32.36 respectively. These numbers indicate that not all big hitters at the top of the order have had similar successes in different formats.

Talking of Sehwag, back in 1999 when he surfaced in international cricket, if one had said he would average more than 50 in Tests and not be as successful in the shorter format, one would well have been dismissed with disdain. For he was an attacking middle-order batsman who could launch the cricket ball many a mile. Yet, few would have imagined him becoming a successful Test batsman, let alone a successful opening batsman in Tests.

Former India selector TA Sekar narrates the story of how Sehwag was caught in the slips, fending against Paras Mhambrey and Zaheer Khan in the Duleep Trophy final at the Eden Gardens in 1999. “He didn’t seem to be comfortable with quick bowling while he was commanding against the spinners. But a couple of years later, he went on to score a masterly unbeaten 162 against Zaheer Khan and company at Mohali in January 2001. It was a remarkable turnaround,” he said.

To be sure, Sehwag redefined the concept of opening the Indian innings in Test cricket with his aggressive approach. Having accepted the task of batting at the top of the order in one-day internationals in a squad where the middle-order was packed, he did not bat an eyelid when taking up the challenge in Test cricket, too. He realised that he could use the pace of the ball to his advantage, given his excellent eye-hand coordination and fearlessness.

To revert to his relative lack of success in one-day cricket, I have never had the chance to discuss this with the man himself but I believe that while he would not make a big deal of it – for he enjoyed walking up to the crease at the start of the innings and unleashing a display of cavalier batsmanship – he would be disappointed too that he did not make it count more often from a statistical perspective, even if he set the team off to brisk starts.

“Only the aggressive batsmen can score 300 in Tests where the bowlers are seeking to come hard at you all the time,” says Sehwag’s former team-mate and now Delhi coach, Vijay Dahiya. “In one-day cricket, you have to go after the bowlers and the field placing is different, too. Perhaps that is the reason why he was not able to score as heavily. The more conventional fields in Test cricket seemed to give him the space to hit boundaries.”

So what is it that could have made Sehwag a lesser limited over batsman than Test batsman? To my mind, he did not succeed as much in one-day internationals as he did in Tests because he seemed to search for that elusive turbo button when his fifth-gear approach would have been more than adequate to put bowling attacks to sword. For someone credited with being a darn good reader of the game, it does surprise many that Sehwag did not buckle down to playing a more role in one-day cricket.

One can only guess – until the man himself speaks about it – that Sehwag cherished the challenges of Test cricket just that bit more, understood his responsibilities a shade better in Tests and executed his skills in a superior manner. Perhaps, there was a slightly more debonair approach to batting in the shorter format that proved counter-productive.

Then again, for a man blessed with remarkable talent to tear apart bowling attacks, immense self-belief and a steadfast refusal to be intimidated by bowlers or situation as well as the ability to keep things simple, he may have achieved only limited success in one-day internationals by not setting loftier goals for himself. The awareness that there were other batsmen who could play out the remaining 50 overs may have contributed to that.

Yet, as he cools his heels while India hosts England in the limited-over series, India must really celebrate the fact that Sehwag was born to play cricket in the manner he did at the highest – and not just in India but also overseas. As lovers of Indian cricket, we can only hope that he retains the hunger when he returns in India colours and remains simply destructive.

This article was first published in DNA, Mumbai, on Sunday, January 13, 2013

For just around a fortnight, as India ran most successful campaign – two silver and four bronze medals – in the quadrennial event, India was sold on Olympic sport. Be it the bronze medals won by Gagan Narang in 10m air rifle, Saina Nehwal in women’s singles badminton, boxer MC Mary Kom in women’s 51kg class and Yogeshwar Dutt in 60kg freestyle wrestling or the silver medals claimed by shooter Vijay Kumar in 25m rapid fire pistol and Sushil Kumar, India erupted in joyous celebration.

Clearly, it was the culmination of years of some fantastic teamwork by the athletes, their coaches, their Federations, NGOs like Olympic Gold Quest and Mittal Champions Trust as well the Ministry of Youth Affairs and Sport. It only showed that if such team work is sustained and built upon, India could realistically aspire to win 20 Olympic medals in the year 2020.

The International Olympic Committee’s decision to suspend the Indian Olympic Association has little competition for the worst moment in Indian sport in 2012. Of course, Mahesh Bhupathi and Rohan Bopanna’s ungainly spat with the All India Tennis Association led this race. In an unprecedented incident, the two players defied the AITA selection and took turns to reject the selectors’ decision to pair them up with Leander Paes. Yet, this seems petty when IOC Member Randhir Singh led the way for IOC to suspend IOA after it became apparent to him that he would lose his hold on IOA in the elections. It has to be hoped that IOC, which many mistakenly believe is the confederation of all National Olympic Committees, will let wiser counsel prevail sooner than later.

This piece was written for Prabhat Khabar, December 31, 2012

A facsimile of the article as it appeared in DNA on December 24, 2012

Sachin Tendulkar’s place in the galaxy of cricketers – and I must stress that it is not just the limited-over galaxy that we are talking about here – is above everyone else. Let me quickly recall a few of my own favourites. There were the left-handed Sanath Jayasuriya and Adam Gilchrist who used their bats like a sledge-hammer; There was a Brian Lara used the willow as a scimitar; There was the workmanlike Michael Bevan who set a high standard as a finisher. There have been other like Ricky Ponting and Jacques Kallis – the best all-rounder to have ever graced the limited-over game – who have played many stunning innings. And, of course, there was the nonchalantly explosive Viv Richards.

Yet, there has been only one man who has always walked in with the burden of expectation of a whole nation on his shoulders. No one batsman has caused as many television and radio sets to be switched off when he has been dismissed in one-day internationals as Tendulkar has. No one cricketer – not even Richards or Kallis, I dare say – has had such an effect on an entire population as the proud Indian has. Definitely not for as long as he has.

Come to think of it, no one cricketer (and perhaps no sportsman) has had such a following as he has, what with India being largely a one-sport following nation. And what is more, his arrival on the scene as a superb one-day cricketer coincided with India opening its market and the onset of cable and satellite TV in the early 1990s. He learnt quickly to come to terms with both the positive and negative spin offs of being a leader in such a climate of change.

Of course, India had won the Prudential Cup – as the World Cup was known – in 1983 and followed it up with a fabulous victory in the World Championship of Cricket  two years later but the Indian team did not quite build on the momentum gained from those conquests. And his presence encouraged so many others to take to the sport with gusto and drove young parents to pressure cricket coaches around the country to help make their teenagers the next Sachin Tendulkar.

There were many times in his career where he was the Holy Trinity – Creator, Perpertrator and Destroyer all rolled in one. Starting the innings and making the most of the first 15 overs – or 10 overs of powerplay in the more contemporary scenario – by hitting through the line or over the top, he would create plarforms for his team-mates to build on. Since he would not be satisfied with quick starts that were both creative and destructive at once, he would then aim to bat through the innings and perpetrate what he helped create. Small wonder, he has come to be known as God.

There really is no need to look at either his statistics or the countless records that he owns in limited-over cricket to justify his place above everyone else in the world of limited-over cricket. For someone to remain seemingly unaffected by the adulation and criticism for close to two decades and focus on his performance while raising the bar for his team-mates is a super human effort indeed.

He had served only morsels as appetisers during his first 69 innings but he grabbed a chance to open the innings in a game in Napier and the rest, as the cliché goes, is history. I was among those fortunate to watch him craft his maiden century in one-day internationals against Australia at the Premadasa Stadium in Colombo. It was not the most explosive knocks – he would reserve those for much later in his career.

Everyone who has followed Tendulkar’s career will tell you that his assault on Australia in Sharjah in 1998 was very special. As was his knock against Pakistan in the ICC World Cup quarterfinal in Durban in 2003. As some of my colleagues have pointed out, it is futile exercise to try and pick one innings as either the finest that he played or the most memorable. We must remember him for what he gave all of India – enormous joy even as he went about playing the game with pride and dignity.

Indeed, there is very good reason – and I promise you, it has little to with numbers like 463, 18426, 200, 49, 96 etc – for the collective outpouring of emotion in the wake of Sachin Tendulkar’s decision to retire from one-day international cricket. It is sad that one cannot reach out and feel the electricity in the air in a cricket stadium as the little big man walks in to bat in a one-day international.

Yet, in celebrating Tendulkar’s magnificence, it must not be forgotten that there are other entertainers who cause waves of excitement when they step out to bat. And, who knows, there may well be someone else coming along to make us gasp in collective disbelief. But while we wait for that, we must say “Thank you, Sachin, for the entertainment and for the boundless joy that you sparked not only in India but beyond its boundaries.”

(This article first appeared in DNA, December 24, 2012)

A facsimile of the article as it appears in Prabhat Khabar

For years, he has made us watch his interpretation of cricket with some fabulous knocks, giving us immense joy and happiness with his exploits. We followed his journey from being a teenager to a senior statesman with delight, basking in reflected glory and letting our hearts swell with pride as he made cricket fans around the world envy our possession of the crown jewel.

For years, he made us extend our hands and feel the electricity in the air each time he walked in to bat but his failures now makes his fans wonder if he will play that one innings to remind them of his greatness all over again. He has set such high benchmarks for himself that it is hard for his fans to come to terms with a run of poor scores – and the manner of dismissals.

Five of his last six innings have ended with him missing the line of the ball and being bowled or leg before. Only in the first Test against England at Motera in Ahmedabad did he made contact with the ball but managed to sky it to the man on the deep mid-wicket fence since he did not get to the pitch of the ball and hence was unable to time it well.

All this has led to 2012 being his worst in a year in which he has played more than five Test matches. An average of 22.83 is not exactly Tendulkaresque. The fact the has crossed 20 just twice in the last 10 innings during which he has been bowled or been leg before wicket as many as seven times is not very distinguishing either. It is not the Tendulkar we have known for years.

Let me say this much, though: These last few innings are not what we will remember Tendulkar for. His presence in the lives of generations of cricket fans has been larger than life. Before long, we will forget his travails in Test cricket in 2012 and return to cherishing his amazing contribution to cricket for close to two and a half decades.

For all that, I do not understand the cacophonic calls for his retirement. Nor do I subscribe to such mindless class. I have always believed that it is the sportsperson’s prerogative to decide on whether he or she wants to retire from active sport. This is not some job where there is a fixed age and the employee retires on the day he turns 58 or 60.

He has been offered as much free and unsolicited advice by men who have graced the game as by the man on the street. We have seen former superstars change stands within a matter of days – from saying he should continue until he has completed three decades in world cricket to saying he must now talk to the selectors!

Tendulkar alone – and I repeat, he alone – can decide whether he should try to continue seeking the touch and form that can lift his game to his own elevated standards or if he should quit playing the game. We must leave him to ponder the question if believes it is worth the while to extend his stay in international cricket that he has strode like a giant for so many years now.

He must be having quite a tough time, wrestling with the run of low scores after having started the year with two decent knocks of 41 and 80 in Sydney. He must be too occupied with getting things right at the batting crease to be able to look at the larger question that has loomed on the horizon. And surely, it would be a bad idea to consider retirement in the middle of a series.

As someone who does not give media interviews until the end of a series, it is unlikely that he will worry himself too much about retirement at this point of time. He knows it will take his focus away from finding solutions to his problems at the batting crease. He is a fierce competitor and must be working out methods to make his body obey his mind.

In the wake of the dismissals in Ahmedabad and Mumbai, he would not have let the unknown tease and torment him. Instead, he will have concentrated on finding answers to the questions posed by Greame Swann and Monty Panesar. We must allow him time to reflect on retirement instead of letting it become a massive millstone around our own necks with national debates.

Yet, having said that, we must also remember that it is the prerogative of the selectors and the captain to decide on which players to pick in the squad and which players to back despite their seeming to lack touch or form as the case may be. It is these wise men who really must ask themselves the tough questions and pick the best team under the circumstances.

These are men who preside over the future of the Indian cricket team and they will need to exercise judgment rather than be carried away by so much talk around Tendulkar’s retirement. They must reflect calmly on the situation, taking a holistic view of both the present and the future, and make their own call.

Yes, the decision on retirement is personal but the ball is well and truly in the selectors’ court. Is the need for his vast experience, especially in the wake of the retirement of Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman, and incredible effect in the dressing room more than the need to play a batsman in form, since no middle-order batsman gave any confidence in the Mumbai Test?

Take the combine of Virat Kohli, Yuvraj Singh and Mahendra Singh Dhoni. Their collective contribution to India’s score was a mere 69 runs for an average of 11.50 runs each. To hold Tendulkar alone responsible for the batting failure in Mumbai will be most unfair to someone who has been an excellent campaigner for India since 1989.

There is no doubt that the team can draw immensely from Tendulkar’s presence in the dressing room. Not very many teams are blessed with someone who has played 192 Tests and 463 one-day internationals. Not very many squads are fortunate to have someone who played for so long and with such dignity and brings an amazing quality to the dressing room.

I have known how much respect successive generations of Indian Test cricketers have had for Tendulkar. A quiet word from him can make a world of a difference to young cricketers, not just for the innings in question but also for their careers. And given the fact that the Indian team is going through a period of transition, the selectors may be tempted to retain him.

This article first appeared in Prabhat Khabar daily on November 28, 2012

With only Leander Paes finding a place in the top 10 of the ATP doubles rankings now, dreams of two Indian pairs figuring in the draw have receded. But each of the three possible pairings is medal material and has the potential to be excitingly competent while delivering India that the Olympic men’s doubles medal that eluded Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi in four starts.

We must remember that the draw will play a big role in how long our London dreams last. Back in 2008, the Indian pair of Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi came up against an inspired Stanislas Wawrinka and Roger Federer, who raised his game after a devastating quarterfinal exit in singles. Hopefully, whichever pair gets picked will have the motivation to do well and will have a great run, irrespective of who it faces on the way.

This time around, the United States of America’s Bryan brothers – Bob and Mike – will be among the pairs that the others will want to avoid as long as possible. The Polish Power, as Mariusz Fyrstenburg and Marcin Matkowski are called, is another pair that can be dangerous. Besides, the likes of Belarussian Max Mirnyi and Canada’s Daniel Nestor can pose big questions, no matter who they pair up with.

So which two players should be picked for the task? My own vote goes to the experienced pair of Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi, no matter what noises either player makes in the run up to the Games. Before you remind me that there must be no room for sentiment when picking teams, let me offer my reasons for this selection.

First and foremost, Leander Paes picks himself by virtue of his ranking and form this year. He has a 20-7 record in doubles play, including three title victories. Mahesh Bhupathi has the second best win-loss record (18-10) while Rohan Bopanna has tasted victory 17 times in 28 matches. Leander’s careful schedule may actually have given him the chance to cause the Indian Tricolour go up at the Olympic Games one more time after his bronze medal feat at Atlanta in 1996.

The Mahesh Bhupathi-Rohan Bopanna pair has not exactly set the Thames on fire this season, even though it is ranked seventh in the ATP rankings. It won the Dubai Open and has four semifinal appearances to show for its efforts. Their campaigns in the big-ticket events – the Australian Open and French Open – have not lasted beyond three rounds.

The chances of Leander Paes and Rohan Bopanna combining at the Olympic Games seem the remotest as they lost the only match they played together this year. There is so little time for them to train together and play as a seasoned combination if they step on the grass courts of Wimbledon during the Games. The only reason this pairing can be chosen is if the selectors pick that the French Open mixed doubles combination of Mahesh Bhupathi and Sania Mirza to try and win a medal in that competition and spare the 38-year-old the challenge of playing two events.

The experience of playing on the big stage – and don’t forget that playing in Wimbledon can be a challenge on its own – will come in handy for Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi. Between them they have got Grand Slam titles and Olympic Games semifinal appearances and use their combined tactical acumen to surprise some established pairs. My mind goes back to the start of 2011 when they returned to play as a team and won the Chennai Open and made it to the final of the Australian Open. And, I can see a similar situation now.

Of course, it does not help that India’s two most experienced players had another bitter parting at the end of 2011. The grapevine has it that Leander Paes approached Rohan Bopanna to pair up with him through all of 2012 but the latter chose to partner Mahesh Bhupathi instead. There is a marked reluctance by Mahesh Bhupathi to accept the idea of teaming up with Leander Paes.

As recently as in April this year, he was quoted as saying the logical thing would be for him to play with Rohan Bopanna instead of pairing up with Leander Paes just for the Olympic Games. He also pointed out that a few weeks practice would not help the partnership beat a strong field at the Olympic Games, suggesting that it would be a miracle.

Clearly, it is imperative for the mandarins of All India Tennis Association and even the Indian Olympic Association to sit down and chat with both players. No, there is no need to read a riot act to mature men. Nor is there a need to remind them both that they are playing for India and not just their personal glory. They will only have to appeal to the players’ consciences.

I believe that despite their differences – and perhaps precious little communication in the past few months – Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi have it in them to come together and give all of us wonderful memories from the London Games. Hopefully, the pair will last the distance and emerge unscathed on August 4 – and let us uncork the emotion that we have bottled up.

This piece first appeared in DNA, June 9, 2012

It was one such flight that got Sri Lanka captain Mahela Jayawardene and England’s batting ace Kevin Pietersen together from Colombo to Delhi. Barely a few days after being on the opposite sides of an intense Test match in Colombo, they forged a winning partnership for Delhi Daredevils “It was just great to bat with Mahela and get a win under the belt,” Pietersen said after helping the team beat two-time champion Chennai Super Kings.

For long, many have trained the spotlight on the glitz and glamour around IPL games, completely overlooking the fact that at the end of the day, all cricket – even a Twenty20 match – is a contest between bat and ball. This year, the intensity of the contests has been high, with the Delhi Daredevils, Rajasthan Royals and Pune Warriors India hitting the ground running.

I am amazed how the cynics dismiss this tournament as tamasha. Clearly, they have no idea how well the teams prepare for a game. Besides training sessions at the net, the cricketers work hard off the field to so that they are ready for battle. There are sessions in the gym, with yoga trainers, with Performance Analysts and with motivational experts. I do not think that the quality of preparation is any less than it would be for a one-day game or a Test match. I do not believe that most of our Ranji Trophy and Duleep Trophy teams prepare as hard.

There is just one intent – do well for the team and ensure that the team wins. If such an attitude can be embraced by all teams, big and small, cricket will surely get to be better at all levels. If that is one thing that is becoming increasingly clear, another big facet of IPL is that this is an amazing melting pot of cultures where notes are exchanged and cricketers can evolve.

In the first two dozen games, there were 10 totals in excess of 180 runs. Rajasthan Royals’ opener Ajinkya Rahane, who hit the first century in IPL 2012, and Delhi Daredevils’ left-arm spinner Shahbaz Nadeem are among the Indian youngsters who have used the grand stage to showcase their intent of going a long way on the Indian cricket firmament.

They have rubbed shoulders with some amazing and experienced cricketers and coaches, sifted information that works for them to be able to make a strong impact. And when you see a close-up of their eyes, you will see fire in them. It is this quality that has set them off on a journey that can be wonderful and fulfilling.

Sometime in April, stand-up cricket comedian Vikram Sathaye wanted to know if cricketers from towns and cities other than Metros had the same opportunity to interact with the overseas cricketers. Saurashtra’s Kuldeep Raval explained candidly how he struck a friendship with Aaron Finch and learns from the explosive Australian opening batsman.

It is not as if it is only the Indian cricketers who benefit from such inputs as they get from the experienced players. Pietersen – who scored an unbeaten hundred at the Ferozshah Kotla in Delhi against Deccan Chargers – says the sojourn in IPL is important not just because he enjoys the atmosphere in the tournament but also because he thinks it’ll help his cricket as well, especially when England plays four Tests and seven one-day internationals later this year.

At the Delhi Daredevils net, I have seen New Zealand’s rising star Doug Bracewell seek South African ace Morne Morkel out to discuss the nuances of pace bowling in different conditions. I have also seen South African all-rounder Roelof van der Merwe share ideas with fellow left-arm spinner Nadeem. And, I have seen the affable Jayawardene’s willingness to spread wisdom. I have also watched New Zealand’s Assistant Coach Trent Woodhill and South African Fitness & Strength Conditioner Rob Walters work hard on the Delhi Daredevils fielding. Such stories abound in the other squads too.

There is a lesson to learn from these cricketers. Blessed with an acute awareness that not everyone gets to play all games, they keep training hard to ensure that they are not rusty when given the chance to play a game. They would not like to just make an appearance but to make their presence felt. And that is what makes this journey so wonderful.

This piece first appeared in Air India Magazine, May 2012

Curiously though, there is a silly whisper that the IPL 2012 hasn’t been such a big hit as its predecessors. Clearly, this emanates from those who have been far removed from ground reality. They have not surely been sitting in ivory towers rather than be at stadia which are running to full houses.

Perhaps they haven’t read newspapers devoting reams of space to IPL cricket and its players. Nor, have they been to airports and hotel lobbies where cricket fans have waited endlessly to catch a glimpse of their favourite sportsmen from around the world. And surely, they haven’t seen the effect Pune Warriors India skipper Sourav Ganguly has on the fanatics’ consciousness.

If one has doubts, one should spend time watching the IPL 2012 action in hangouts like Route 69 in Cyber City, Gurgaon, [V]Spot Café in Saket and Underdogs in Vasant Kunj to experience the passionate hold cricket has over its fans, old and new. Or, if one wants another confirmation, one should meet housewives whose TV watching routines have been disturbed at home.

Viewed from a cricketing perspective, IPL 2012 will go down as one in which the quality of contests rose to a high. At the moment of writing, with 28 of the 72 league matches having been completed, four teams are bunched with eight points each and four in hot pursuit with just two points fewer.

There have been some exciting last-over finishes, with the Chennai Super Kings securing two victories off the very last delivery. There has been spectacular batsmanship from men like Chris Gayle, Owais Shah, Faf du Plessis and Kevin Pietersen – to name a few – while Morne Morkel has shown why overseas fast bowlers are in such great demand among the IPL teams.

Home-bred youngsters like Rajasthan Royals’ opening batsman Ajinkya Rahane, who scored the first of the two centuries in IPL 2012, and Delhi Daredevils left-arm spinner Shahbaz Nadeem have caught the eye with powerful performances that have been built on the foundation of conventional first-class cricket.

Veteran leaders of men like Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid have shown that it helps to have an experienced hand at the helm of affairs as they have steered their respective teams, Pune Warriors India and Rajasthan Royals to four victories each. Even the die-hard lovers of the traditional game would admit that Ganguly’s leadership has made for fascinating viewing.

Make no mistake, fuelled by some excellent cricketing contests, the IPL 2012 juggernaut will roll powerfully and capture the imagination of cricket fans across the country before it winds down with the final on May 27. It will have touched many more lives than some cynics would like to acknowledge.

This piece was written for May 2012 issue of Suburb magazine

The Hindi version of this article first appeared in Prabhat Khabar on March 19, 2012

He may have told Greg Chappell, then the coach of the Indian cricket team, that he has fewer friends in the country than the Australian himself. He may have nothing to do with the fluctuations that Sensex often undergoes. Nor, for that matter, does he impact the value of the rupee against the American dollar.

Yet, Sachin Tendulkar has given millions of Indians hope and joy. He reaches way beyond the sport that he so loves and touches the hearts of millions of Indians like few else have. It is a good bet that no one has held sway over such a vast majority of India as he has in the past 22 years with his devotion to cricket in general and batting in particular.

Do I hear you bring up the names of Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan and Rajnikanth? None of these entertainers is a live performer in the manner of a Tendulkar. The likes of AR Rahman catch our fancy often but not as consistently. And with regional parties holding the sway, there really is no politician either who has held a pan-India appeal for so long as Tendulkar.

If any proof were needed to convince us about how big Tendulkar’s emotional connect with the masses really is, it became available over the past year when he has been on the threshold of scoring his 100th international century. Egged on by the media, the nation seemed to hold its collective breath each time he batted and groaned collectively every time he was dismissed.

The wait for this one event has no parallel in Indian sporting history, at least from a mass-following point of view. Of course, Abhinav Bindra’s gold medal at the in Beijing in 2008 ended a wait for India’s first individual title at the Olympic Games but, given that Indian sportspersons found Olympic medals hard to come by, few would have agonised as much.

Talking of waits, public memory may be short but I remember the wait for Tendulkar’s first century in one-day internationals lasted close to five years and 79 innings. That wait was worth it as he made 110 off 130 deliveries against Australia at the R Premadasa Stadium in September 1994.

Come to think of it, he batted in 35 innings in Tests and ODIs after scoring his 99th hundred – a 111 against South Africa in Nagpur on March 12 last year. And even if he has often pointed out that every batsman has to start an innings with no runs against his name, Tendulkar has set such standards that expectations have only grown.

That brings us to the fact that his achievements have all come under an amazing amount of media scrutiny. It is also not surprising that social networking sites found some impatient folk discussing all that could happen before Tendulkar got to this milestone, ignoring his own plea that for him it is just a statistical landmark.

Given that India is so cricket-crazy, I do not think that players like Sir Donald Bradman or Sir Garfield Sobers will have faced such pressure of expectation and adulation. To have come to symbolise hope and humility, success and equanimity in the disarming manner that he has, Tendulkar has had to stop his mind from becoming a runaway train.

It would have been easy for him to lose focus in a nation where cricketers are idolised, with people waiting at airports, hotels and stadia for a glimpse, if not to touch them. The manner in which he has coped with all the attention – and some of it has nothing to do with his cricket – is a telling commentary of his ability to stay rooted.

It is this control over mind that sets him apart as the sportsperson’s champion. It is a given that his team-mates over the years have shared such sentiments. Sporting contemporaries like Viswanathan Anand and Leander Paes have enormous respect for what he has achieved and admire him for being able to deal with the pressure of expectation for so many years.

Some years ago, when India’s most popular hockey star Dhanraj Pillay reminded mediapersons: “I am no less than Sachin Tendulkar”, he could have been actually telling us that Tendulkar had become a yardstick with which to measure fame and achievement. It reflected an inherent desire that is manifest in most sporting achievers to be spoken of in the same breath as Tendulkar.

So what if he has fewer friends in the country than Greg Chappell? So what if he has little to do with how the Sensex varies or how the rupee performs against the American dollar? By getting to a milestone of a 100 international centuries, Sachin Tendulkar has shown again that there really is no one who captures the imagination of so many with his chosen craft.