The dark prince

Wisden Asia Cricket

July 11, 2003

Batting for the Empire by Mario Rodrigues systematically demolishes the once-held notion that the celebrated cricketer Ranji was the finest ambassador India ever sent to England. With its striking cover photograph of Ranji at the batting crease, the book is sure to attract even the casual cricket lover, but it is meant really for an altogether more cerebral readership. It is a painstaking attempt to de-mythify Ranji the man, and a near-scholarly work.

Hardcore cricket followers and cricketers with an interest in the history of the game, if such a breed still exists, are rarely swayed by the larger-than-life personae the media creates around cricketers. To them the appeal of Ranji would be based on his feats on the field - that he played for England, scored a hundred on Test debut and captured the imagination of critics and fans alike with unequalled artistry at a time when his countrymen were a subject race and treated as such. Their respect for Ranji the player may not need the buttress of admiration for Ranji the prince, but even they will find disillusionment in the image of their hero - as despot, buffoon, schemer, spendthrift, unreliable borrower, and despicable toady of the British empire - that emerges from Rodrigues's hard-hitting biography.

Another category of readers likely to find the book illuminating is followers of recent Indian history, especially scholars with a deep interest in the affairs of the princely states, in particular the politics of the western Indian region of Kathiawar.

It is the sophisticated reader of recent vintage, owing much of his appreciation of cricket and cricketers to an increasing body of work by experts in fields other than cricket, who may actually read it from cover to cover, for readable the book surely is. This elite readership, familiar with the writings on Ranji of such reputed authors as Simon Wilde, Mihir Bose, Ashis Nandy and Ramachandra Guha, already knows that the 'Black Prince' was one of the greatest players the game has known but not quite the white knight that his hagiographers, English and Indian, make him out to be. Rodrigues's work offers them a wealth of information that will strengthen such an impression.

Rodrigues has succeeded in revealing Ranji in his true colours in his role of Jamsaheb of Nawanagar. It is obvious his research has been extensive, ranging from purely propagandist literature - both for and against - including the vernacular press and official mouthpieces of the state, to the more objective writings of cricket writers and historians. While we can hardly fault the systematic way he has gone about his job, we do get the impression sometimes that he takes a spade to a soufflé, piling on the evidence long after the jury have decided to return a verdict of guilty. And, while his acceptance of adverse criticism of the Jamsaheb by his detractors is generally unquestioning, he displays a constant streak of skepticism towards any praise of him or statements made by Ranji himself that show him in a good light.

Ranji's unswerving loyalty to the Empire, his total faith in hereditary rule and suspicion of democracy, his opposition to the freedom movement led by fellow Kathiawari MK Gandhi, his desperate attempts to perpetuate the Indian princely order, his claim that he and his nephew Duleepsinhji were "English cricketers", his refusal to play an active role in Indian cricket - all these and worse are pitilessly exposed in the book.

The last chapter includes this defence by Mihir Bose: "So if Ranji did not do much for Indian cricket it is because he did not think of India as a cricketing nation. He did not think of India as a cricketing nation because he could not conceive of India as a political nation. India as a political nation was born fourteen years after Ranji died and, had he lived, as his successors' actions show, he would have undoubtedly opposed it ... Had Nawanagar managed to get together a Test team then, I am sure, Ranji would have advised Duleep to play for Nawanagar. For inasmuch as a king is ever a nationalist, Ranji was a Nawanagar nationalist. He was, perhaps, a Rajput nationalist, if that term can have any meaning ..."

Rodrigues does not endorse this view. He refuses to give Ranji the benefit of doubt. His biography is an indictment that allows for few grey areas or bright spots, while painting a vivid picture of a dark prince.

India's non-playing captain

Cricinfo

February 22, 2002

Sourav Ganguly is a puzzled man. He does not know why India loses the crucial matches. By his own generous admission, he would have won more such matches for India if he knew the problem. Our satellite channels faithfully telecast the Indian captain's wonderfully humble attempt at self-analysis, as if to acquit him of all charges of repeated failures as captain and player.

To be fair to him, though, the Prince of Calcutta was a little more forthcoming than that. He wondered aloud if inexperience was the root cause of India's continued inability to win matches, even against Nasser Hussain's scratch combination - though they were made to look like world beaters in India - under home conditions, with the help of incompetent umpires whose mistakes came in handy when the hosts were down. He was a trifle disappointed - and he said this with the appropriate expression of condescending indulgence towards the newcomers in the Indian eleven - that, after he had brought the side to the threshold of victory in the final one-dayer, the rest of the batting simply folded.

There was, thus, no hint of regret that he had thrown his wicket away playing a loose, even arrogant lap-shot instead of staying at the wicket until victory was achieved. How smug and selfsatisfied he looked, absolving himself of all guilt while putting his younger teammates on the mat! The selectors too seem equally smug.

Ganguly had not done badly, actually, according to chairman of selectors Chandu Borde. After all, he had won the Test series and drawn the one-day rubber against England. The captain's almost total capitulation as a batsman, especially in Test match cricket, does not seem to have worried him unduly.

The selectors must be pretty sanguine that the forthcoming Zimbabwe series will not tax the Indian players' technique or temperament unduly. One neat series win later, all will be forgotten and forgiven in the euphoria of victory, they seem to be reassuring themselves, to offer the least offensive explanation of their penchant for the status quo.

Not too long ago, there was some much-publicised rhetoric by the BCCI president declaring that those in charge of Indian cricket would be held accountable for the results they produced. In hindsight, it seems to have been no more than an attempt to get rid of John Wright and Andrew Leipus, the unwanted 'foreigners.' The captain, in contrast, seems to be immune from any such requirement. After all, was it not suggested by many, just prior to his sensational return to Test cricket in 1996, that Ganguly was Jagmohan Dalmiya's boy?

But Indian cricket has a way of making fools of everyone. For all we know, an Andy-Flower-inspired Zimbabwe could still spring a surprise or two, and by the end of the series, the selectors could face pretty much the same situation as they face today. And once again, they will decide to let sleeping dogs lie and play it safe with the selection of the captain and the team for the West Indies tour.

A diet of fish

Cricinfo

October 23, 2001

Bertie Wooster thought his manservant Jeeves owed his brains to a regular diet of fish. But the super-valet also possessed a surfeit of gall, and I always believed that eating fish had something to do with that aspect of Jeeves' personality as well. Proof, if I needed any, of the merit of this theory was recently provided by the turn of events in Indian skipper Sourav Ganguly's cricket career.

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The Prince of Calcutta is perhaps the last man to win a popularity contest, especially if the electorate were to consist of rival cricketers or the foreign media. (Of course, he also enjoys a special relationship with match referees, just in case you thought I had overlooked that minor detail.) His poor personal form against Australia did nothing to dilute his brash rejoinders to probing media men, who were seemingly bent upon showing him in a poor light. But that was probably helped by the fact that, under him, India won the series in one of the greatest fightbacks in recent Test history.

In Sri Lanka, Ganguly seemed to have been overwhelmed by events. As the Indians floundered and struggled in the absence of key players, the captain appeared to be deflated by adversity. His head dropped, and he had begun to mumble his replies towards the end of the tour.

But what followed soon after was sensational. The captain went home after the series, where I am sure he waded into home cooking; home being Kolkata, his diet was no doubt dominated by different varieties of fish, a Bengali's idea of a vegetarian diet. Well-rested, and buoyed up by the love of his near and dear, the skipper arrived in South Africa and straightaway demonstrated, by his utterances to the media, that he was back to being his best, cocky, confident self. The South Africans are not a hotshot team, he announced. He also hinted that India's spinners might pose a problem or two to the Proteas.

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Ganguly did not stop with mere talk. He carried his arrogance into the matches. He belted the South African speedsters as if they were club bowlers rolling their arms over at Kalighat or Mohun Bagan. He was particularly severe on his rival number; rarely has Shaun Pollock been treated with such contempt. The numerous sixes that he has already taken off the South African captain's bowling are a clear message to him and his cronies, past and present, Pat Symcox and Allan Donald, who have been exhibiting clear symptoms of foot-in-mouth syndrome in their columns. Unfortunately, Ganguly's thrilling counterattack has been more than nullified by the poor performance of his team.

I was asked to compare Ganguly the captain with some past greats like former Hyderabad captain ML Jaisimha and his buddy MAK Pataudi. They were both remarkable captains, with a fund of cricket knowledge, and both were capable of acute strategic thinking. They were undoubtedly in the forefront of the 60s movement to rid Indian cricket of its colonial hangover, and they showed their fellows that India could actually defeat its former rulers on a cricket field.

Ganguly may still have some way to go before he can acquire the finesse and technical acumen of some of these past masters, but for sheer audacity and irreverence, he is streets ahead of any of his predecessors. Even skeptics like this writer, who came to scoff, cannot help but admire his refusal to be cowed down by opponents and critics alike.