By Kulbhushan Kain
While in Delhi University, apart from playing for my college I dabbled in club cricket for a year. I was in the prime of my cricketing abilities and, in 1976, the Delhi Transport Corporation (DTC), at that time an A Division team, hired my services. The team was led by a very good medium pacer called Karan Singh.
It was while playing for DTC that I met the great Bishan Singh Bedi. He used to play club cricket for the SBI, to keep fit during the days when he was not representing India, Delhi or North Zone. More often than not, he would come for a match, roll his famous left hand over and then leave.
I landed up one day at the Ferozshah Kotla to play a match for DTC and Karan Singh, our Captain, told me that “Paaji” would be playing for our opponents – the State Bank of India.
Everyone knew who “Paaji” was – Bishan Singh Bedi. He was already a big international star and I did not know what I would do when I came face to face with him. I was in complete awe of him, like millions of cricket lovers.
Bedi was very modest. He came, backslapped many players and had no airs about himself. He was slim and always wore a smile whenever he beat the batsman with the ball. All too soon, I found myself going out to bat. Guess who was bowling? Yes, Bishan Bedi!
I don’t remember anything of the few balls I faced. However, I do remember one incident very vividly.
I was at the non-striker’s end when Bedi was bowling. I was leaving my crease before he delivered the ball. All of a sudden, he stopped, looked at me, made me aware that I was outside my crease, and said: “I can run you out. Don’t leave your crease before the ball has left my hand. Cricket like life is a game of patience.”
A wonderful sportsman, he taught me a lifelong lesson – never be in a hurry, otherwise, you can get run out! In sports, one may get another chance, in life one may never.
I met him a few times again – once when we called him to be the Chief Guest at the conclusion of the Indian Public Schools’ Conference Swimming Meet at Rai.I f my memory serves me right, it was 1983. By that time, Bedi had retired, but still a very sought after guest for any function. He readily accepted the invitation because my Principal, Mr YP Bharadwaj, was a respected cricketer and had represented Delhi in Ranji and Duleep Trophy in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. Mr Bharadwaj made me Bedi’s “liaison officer” for his stay during the function.
I was also the commentator for the event and as was, and is, customary, one starts by welcoming the Chief Guest and introducing him. Bedi though, needed no introduction and kept smiling as I waxed eloquently about his greatness.
Cricket is not just about performance. It’s not only about the number of wickets or runs you score. It’s also about life. It’s about how you leave an imprint on the young: the imprint of integrity, of honesty and of gratitude. Bedi lived this quality all his life and he shared it with all of us, as only he could.
In sports, it’s often a single moment, a split second, a magical unreal moment that hooks a fan for life – a stunning goal, an effortless 100 metres hurdle run, an unbelievable catch. Cricket seduced me one spring morning at Ferozshah Kotla when Delhi were playing Bombay (1977). The great Sunny Gavaskar was opening for Bombay. The great Bedi was bowling. It was a contest meant for the Gods.
Bedi wheeled his arm over as if they were on well-greased ball bearings. He tossed one up, Gavaskar reached out and slashed it through the covers. Bedi acknowledged it with a clap. Next ball, he again tossed up, but slightly slower and held it back. Gavaskar got deceived that it was a similar delivery. It was not! He gave Bedi a return catch! It was the maestro at his best. The two balls appeared identical – but they were not. He was a master of guile. I still remember that, even in the second innings, Bedi drew Gavaskar out of his crease only to be stumped by Surinder Khanna.
He became the master of my destiny, my addiction. A magician going through his entire repertoire –subtle variation of loop, length, speed, spin, an exercise in, not only physical, but mind control. He was poetry in motion dressed in a colourful patka and whites! As someone said in a tribute to him “When Bedi was born, it was as if God put a cricket ball in his hand and said – go and bowl for India!”
Let me get back to the swimming meet in which Bedi was the Chief Guest. After sitting through the whole function, he was about to leave and get into the car. He spotted me, stopped, and beckoned. He then put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Thank you very much for the lovely words you spoke about me. I think you got carried away.”
It was a lesson in modesty and humility. I had not got carried away. I meant every word I spoke in the same way as I mean every word I write today.
Sadly, the ‘Sardar of spin’ has passed away. For me, he was not just match statistics or the art of bowling. For me, he was more than that. He taught me that humility is a virtue of greatness. He also taught me that one can get run out if one is not patient.
Do I have any complaints about him?
Yes, he was not patient enough in life. He got run out too soon.
(Kulbhushan kain is an award winning educationist with more than 4 decades of working in schools in India and abroad. He is a
prolific writer who loves cricket, travelling and cooking. He can be
reached at kulbhushan.kain@gmail.com)
