Playing It My Way: My Autobiography (23 page)

In hindsight, I should not have played the Delhi and Kolkata Test matches that followed, but my urge to play against Pakistan drove me on. I had told the BCCI all about my physical condition and they had left it up to me whether to play or not and at the time I felt I would be able push myself.

The second Test, starting in Delhi on 4 February 1999, was very much Anil Kumble’s match and it was his world-record spell of 10–74 in the second innings that helped us level the series. Anil has won many Test matches for India and he was unplayable at the Kotla in Delhi, as he became only the second bowler in the history of Test cricket, after Jim Laker in 1956, to pick up all ten wickets in an innings. In Pakistan’s second innings I handed Anil’s sweater and cap to umpire Arani Jayaprakash before every over he bowled. It worked well for us and there was no reason to change the pattern. It seems incredible to think that Anil singlehandedly won us a Test match against Pakistan, but he certainly did.

The two-Test series was followed by the Asian Test Championship and India played Pakistan in the inaugural match of this new competition at Eden Gardens in Kolkata, which started on 16 February. Many looked upon it as the third and deciding leg of the bilateral series. I remember the match for the way I was run out in the second innings. Chasing 279 for victory, we were well placed at 134–2 when I walked out to bat. I was in the process of playing myself in when I clipped a Wasim delivery past wide mid on. The ball was finally pulled up yards from the rope by the substitute fielder Nadeem Khan. I was jogging to the crease for an easy third run when the throw came in on the full to hit the stumps. Despite the direct hit, I would have been well in if I hadn’t collided with Shoaib Akhtar. Shoaib, who was fielding at mid off, had come forward to back up the throw and was standing a few yards behind the stumps, right in my line of running. I could not comprehend why he was standing there rather than right behind the stumps. With my eyes on the ball, I collided with him moments after I had run my bat in. As a result of the collision, my bat was in the air when the ball hit the stumps.

While not imputing any motive to Shoaib, I must say I was shocked to see the Pakistanis appeal for the run-out. The crowd, sensing the injustice, turned violent and started throwing things onto the ground. After walking off, finding it difficult to come to terms with the incident, I went straight to the third umpire’s room to check the replay and was dismayed to see what had really happened.

Because of the crowd disturbance, the match had to be stopped for a good twenty minutes, and finally Jagmohan Dalmiya, then president of the ICC and one of India’s most distinguished administrators, came to our dressing room to ask if I would go out and pacify the crowd. I didn’t really feel like it, because I felt wronged, but I changed my mind to ensure there was no further violence at Eden Gardens. It was only after Jagmohan Dalmiya and I appealed to the crowd that the match was finally allowed to resume.

The sense of outrage, however, was still there and the crowd turned violent again the following morning, resulting in unreal scenes towards the end of the match. In an unprecedented move, 65,000 people were forced to vacate the stadium and the match was completed without a single spectator inside the ground. Perhaps it could all have been avoided if Shoaib had not stood in my way or if Wasim had withdrawn the appeal.

India lost the Test match by 46 runs and the way the match ended left us all feeling rather bitter.

Continuing to play on with my back injury had unfortunately aggravated the problem. As a result, I played the World Cup in England in May and June 1999 in considerable physical discomfort. But the World Cup was not a tournament I could miss and I did all I could to get ready. Every time I trained, my back would get stiff and I would need a cooling-off period for it to settle down. The fickle English weather did not help matters and I was advised to sleep on the floor of the hotel room with a pillow below my knee, to make sure that my back was flat on the ground. In time, I learnt to sleep in the tiny gap between the bed and the cupboard in most hotel rooms, which ensured there wasn’t much space for me to toss and turn.

Ajit, Anjali and Sara were all in England before the World Cup and that was a great comfort. We would go out for meals together and it was during one of these dinners at a Chinese restaurant that I ordered crispy aromatic duck. I just love to eat this dish served with thin pancakes and sliced cucumber and can finish a portion on my own. However, just as I placed my order, Ajit asked me to cancel it. He declared that he would not allow me to eat duck before the World Cup. While I found it amusing at first, I soon realized he was serious and felt obliged to do what he wanted. When I asked him his reasons, he said he had read an article which said that three English players had once gone out for a meal before a very important match and they had all had duck for dinner. Subsequently each one got out without scoring. Of course, in cricket a ‘duck’ is associated with a batsman scoring zero and on the Australian television coverage a duck is even shown accompanying a batsman back to the pavilion if he gets out without scoring. Ajit said to me I could have as much duck as I wanted once the World Cup was over!

Just before the tournament started Anjali decided to go back to London, leaving me to focus solely on my cricket. In the second trimester of her pregnancy and with one-and-a-half-year-old Sara with her, it must have been immensely difficult for her to negotiate things on her own. While I missed her badly and desperately wanted to be with her to help out, there was little I could do but appreciate what she was doing for me and the family.

It was in the middle of all this that I received the news of my father’s passing. Ajit, who had gone back to India by then, called Anjali to tell her what had happened and asked her to break the news to me personally. Anjali in turn called two of my team-mates, Robin Singh and Ajay Jadeja, and asked them to be outside my room as she drove back to the team hotel in Leicester very late at night on 18 May – the day before our second match of the tournament, against Zimbabwe. She also called the hotel manager and asked him not to transfer any calls to my room.

When I opened the door at well past midnight and saw her standing with Ajay and Robin I immediately sensed something serious had happened. Atul Ranade, one of my closest friends, was with me in my room and I asked Atul to go out as Anjali came in. I could not believe what she was saying. It was a cruel blow and not something I had expected at all. It left me numb for a few minutes. I could not say a thing. Father had always been there for me. My mind had stopped working and all I could do was hold Anjali and cry. I felt helpless and was unable to come to terms with the shock for a while.

My first thought was to go back to India at the earliest opportunity to be with my mother and see my father one final time. Mark Mascarenhas, as always, had already made all the arrangements for the following morning and drove the two of us to Heathrow just before dawn. All through the journey I kept thinking about my father, who had been in reasonable health when I had left India for the World Cup. In fact, I couldn’t believe he was not alive and felt that if I went back to India he would open his eyes again. He had undergone angioplasty a few months earlier and had stayed with us, so that Anjali could take care of him. By the time I left for the World Cup, he seemed back to his normal self and had even started to climb three floors. The doctors had asked him to have a drink every evening and I made a point of coming home most evenings to share a drink with him. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that I would be sharing a drink with my father, but medical advice had forced me to do so. The thought that I would never see him again was just too much to digest.

My brothers and friends had come to pick me up at Mumbai airport but this was a very different homecoming from normal. When I got home I could see that my mother had aged considerably in the past few days and was sitting facing the wall. She hardly said a word to anyone and was in a state of shock. I felt devastated to see my mother like that and what was more worrying was that she did not move from her position for close to two days. It became unbearable when I came face to face with my grandmother, who had lost her son. She said to me that she wanted to spend a few quiet minutes with him and I immediately asked all who were present to leave us alone for a while. I accompanied my grandmother to the room where my father’s body was lying, then left her to mourn with her son in peace. I remember standing a good few yards away, giving her the space she needed.

I couldn’t sleep for many nights having lost my biggest inspiration. And it was a deeply emotional moment for all of us when the watchmen, postmen and all the other people he had helped during his life came over for his funeral. I put a gold coin with my face on it in his pocket before the cremation, so that I could always be there with him.

Without my father, my life would never be the same again.

After spending four days in India, I returned to England to rejoin the team on the eve of the match against Kenya. That, it seemed to me, was what my father would have wanted me to do, and that’s what prompted the decision to return to London to play the remaining World Cup matches. Mentally, however, I was not at my best throughout the tournament. I had to wear dark glasses during the practice sessions, because at times I could not hold back my tears. Though I managed to score a hundred in the match against Kenya – which remains one of my most cherished centuries, one I dedicated to my father – my mind was not always on the game.

The back injury, which had not shown any signs of improvement, also continued to bother me throughout the rest of the World Cup, helping to make it one of the toughest tournaments I have played in. It wasn’t India’s best World Cup either and we were knocked out in the Super Six stage after winning a couple of memorable matches against Sri Lanka and England at the group stage.

Against Sri Lanka at Taunton on 26 May 1999, Sourav and Rahul played two of the finest innings I have seen in a World Cup. Sourav was at his elegant best on his way to a majestic 183 and Rahul played beautifully for his 145. In our next match against England on 29 May, Sourav yet again made a significant all-round contribution, to give us a much-needed win, and Rahul was consistent right through the tournament.

At the Super Six stage our only consolation was another win against Pakistan. The match had assumed great significance against the backdrop of strained political relations between the two countries – the war in Kargil in Kashmir was on at the time. India won the highly charged encounter by 47 runs, with Venkatesh Prasad picking up a five-wicket haul.

The back pain continued to bother me after the World Cup and in fact turned worse in the twin tournaments in Sri Lanka and Singapore in August–September 1999, at the end of which I decided to go to Australia to get my back examined. I had already resorted to acupuncture and acupressure – and even had my tongue pricked by an expert in Singapore trying to identify the pressure points that might help in the recovery. They were the acts of an increasingly desperate man.

Dr Anant Joshi, one of India’s leading doctors and one who has always been there for me right through my career, travelled with me to Adelaide in September 1999 to meet a number of specialists. A series of checks were conducted and I eventually received four injections for the injury. I was glad I could not see the injections at the time because afterwards I realized I had never seen bigger needles in my life. I actually carried one back to show my friends and family and nobody could believe the size of them. But they did the job, and soon after my return to India the back injury that had bothered me for eight months was finally sorted. It was certainly a relief to be pain-free.

My determination was even greater because in August 1999 I had been appointed captain of India again, despite having deep reservations about taking on the job for a second time. What happened was that Ajit Wadekar had come to my house to ask me if I was prepared to captain India again and I told him that I was reluctant to do so. The next I heard was that I had been appointed captain ahead of a tri-series in Sri Lanka in August. It appears that Wadekar Sir had come over to speak to me on behalf of the BCCI and it was after consultation with him that the selectors had decided to give me the responsibility, despite my unwillingness. Once the appointment was made public it was difficult for me to turn it down. I have never ducked a challenge and I went on to accept the job, determined to give it my best. We were due to tour Australia at the end of the year and I knew it was the toughest assignment in cricket at the time.

All of this coincided with the birth of our second child, when Anjali and I were blessed with a baby boy on 24 September 1999. I decided to name him Arjun and remember announcing my intention to Anjali soon after I had seen my son for the first time. She later mentioned to me that she had thought of a few other names herself but, seeing my enthusiasm for Arjun, went ahead with my choice. Once again I filmed the day and I cherish the recording of Arjun being brought out to me for the first time.

Watching the children grow up is a fantastic feeling and I must say I missed them every time I was away from them. With Arjun it was particularly hard. He would resent my going away and would refuse to speak to me on the phone. For the first six years of his life Arjun never talked to me when I was on tour. In my desperation to hear his voice I often requested Anjali to ask him to say hello, but he would always refuse. Then, on my return, he would cling to me for the first three days, trying to make up for lost time.

While Sara did not seem to resent my going in the same way as Arjun, she did find it difficult on occasions to bond with me on my return. Sara was just a few months old when I had to travel to Sri Lanka for a tour. It was extremely hot in Colombo and I returned home with quite a tan at the end of the assignment. I had turned really dark and she didn’t recognize me. She thought someone else had walked in and she refused to go near me for the first few minutes!