Kapil’s wicket, wicket ways

The rise of Dev’s ‘Devils’

THE real essence of this victory sinks deep into our hearts when we land at the Bombay airport. We are totally zapped, seeing a sea of humanity milling around. It’s raining and about 30,000 people are waiting to receive the team.

 What a splendid homecoming! The entire route from the airport to Wankhede Stadium is lined up with people waving, cheering and extending their hands to the players who are shaking them. You can see tears rolling down the cheeks of some players. I too am deeply moved...

Our team earns the sobriquet, Kapil’s ‘devils’. I would rather call them ‘daredevils’. The team is a fine blend of youth and experience, quite a few allrounders rendered on its side, in absolute coordination and well in tune with the captain. 

This well-knit team comprising Gavaskar, Vengsarkar and Shastri is supported by natural stroke players, like Srikkanth, Patil and Yashpal and quality medium pacers, like Binny, Madan and Sandhu. And I would consider it as the best one-day team India has ever had.

Interestingly, at this point of time, the Cricket Board doesn’t have enough funds to reward the team. So, with the able support of the Board President, N K P Salve, some cricket buffs in the capital city of Delhi, go to the length of organising a Lata Mangeshkar concert at the Indira Gandhi Indoor Stadium and all the players get a lakh each from the funds raised. 

This is the very first time any Indian cricketer has received this large an amount from the Board. By any reckoning, it’s big money for us.

Now there’s a series of official receptions. Mrs Gandhi hosts us at the Hyderabad House.... As I shake hands with her, she says, "We are very proud of you, keep up the good work." 

She first speaks in English and then says in Hindi, "Achche kaam karne chahiyen desh ke liye." (You should do good deeds for the country.) I thought she was much more soft-spoken than what the media projected her to be. She looked very kind and gentle.

My brand of finesse

I remember how during the first tour of Australia in 1979-80, all these so-called polished cricketers make fun of me. I am at the dining table using the wrong knives and the plate slips. One of the Indian cricketers guffaws and says, "Yeh kaun sa ganwar aa gaya hai (Who is this uncouth fellow?)." This is before I got married to Romi. And she tells me, "Kapil, you still talk to that guy who made such a crude, insensitive remarks." 

I tell her, "Kya farak padta hai." (How does it make a difference?) Today, I can beat them at their own brand of finesse. Then there’s this famous cricketer of Pakistan who is here on a visit to Delhi. While sitting with a lady, he tells her, "You’ve got to see this fellow who has come from the back of beyond." 

He calls me over so that he could ridicule me. This lady is now a good friend of ours. I’ve never been able to understand what fun do people derive from humiliating a person. Till today, Romi holds a grudge against that player, but I’ve never allowed myself to carry over that feeling. I believe you don’t gain your confidence by slapping someone else. You don’t have to denigrate others to feel better. At times Romi spurs me on, but I don’t react.

Hero No 1: GR Vishwanath

All said and done, the man I admire most is Gundappa Vishwanath. He’s one player who should be idolised by every youngster in the game simply because he had the talent to play on any wicket and against any bowler. He’s my real hero — a great cricketer and an even greater human being. Quite honestly, after Vishy, I simply can’t talk about any one else in the game. He was my hero when I was an ignorant lad and he would remain my hero till my dying day. Considering that this ‘gentleman’ of cricket never reacted, I can’t forget what Vishy said to this young player who was constantly sledging and wouldn’t stop getting abusive. "Young man, I’ve emptied my bladder much more than the water you’ve had on this ground."

I’ve had other heroes to in different games. And John McEnro tops the list. Though he’s very temperamental, he remains one of my inspirations. The way he played tennis and the way I played cricket, our style and approach were as different as day and night. He was so moody whether he was correlating to his referees or co-players. But he had the guts, the nerve to say it and prove it. I would say that he truly was the Javed Miandad of tennis, totally unpredictable. Nobody could say what he would do next, and that’s what made his game so exciting. Still I would say, he has been the best entertainer the game of tennis ever produced. But I never lost my cool on the field. I would say I am more like Bjorn Borg, as quiet as he was.

Even my mother suspected me

I would never forget that day — the third of May. I am out for dinner with my family and we get back late at night.I tuck myself in, as it’s been a long day. While I am fast asleep, Romi gets a call from a friend saying. "Tune in to CNN, the former BCCI President Inderjit Singh Bindra is taking Kapil’s name in this controversy of match-fixing." Romi shakes me hard to wake me up, "Look Kapil, what is he saying?" I just shake my head, "I don’t know." We are stunned....

The way media manages the whole issue, a stage comes when my mother also questions my honesty to the game. That’s the nadir point, as she asks me, "Kaka, aida keeta te nahin?" (Son, hope you haven’t done it". 

I feel so sad. Ma Can’t read but she gets feedback from the family members and what she gets to see on television. This is what the media does to the closest person in my life. And it’s the terminal point when my elder brother Romesh, who is more like a father figure, goes on record to say, "If Kapil is guilty, hang him." His statement makes me feel so proud, for only someone who knows you so well can say a thing like that....

He plays cricket alright. But what does he do?

"This is ridiculous, Romi! You’ve to forget about him." And she tells him (her father) spiritedly," Too late, dad, too late. If you people had an objection, you should have stopped me much earlier. Now I can’t help it. No way." And an adamant father surrenders before an equally stubborn daughter, "Okay then, what can we do? Call him over," he says. "Let’s meet him at least. Rest of it we shall see later." But he continues to caution her,"Look, he has no education, and if he fails to make it big as a cricketer, what would he fall back on? And if something goes wrong, don’t you come back running to me saying,‘ Dad, find someone else for me?" Romi can barely suppress a smug smile, as she knows she’s on a winning wicket. Finally, her dramatic pitch is yielding the right results. It’s also comical in a way, as Romi’s grandfather asks her father, "Munda kyoja hai, karda ki hai?" (What is the boy like, what does he do?) So my father-in-law tells him,"Cricket khelda hai." (He plays cricket.) But his father asks again," Bhai au te theek hai, par karda ki hai?" (That’s all right! But what does he do?) Then he finally tells him that my family has timber business in Chandigarh....

What really worries me is that Romi comes from a far more educated and polished family. She has studied at Tara Hall in Shimla and Elphinstone College in Bombay. And she has just one sister and here I’ve a family of total nautankis (theatrical lot), quite a handful of six siblings. This is how Indian families are — eccentric, temperamental and full of excitement. None of the brothers at home could say, these are my shoes or my shirt. Anybody could wear any stuff. Nobody’s room is ‘my’ room, it’s everybody’s room....

Both the families are equally affluent, it’s only the cultural disparity which creates a block. The elders have a more worldly-wise perspective.... I admit to myself that I am fraught with worry — if I don’t get my act together soon enough, I may lose out on a wonderful partner. Frankly, I am quite confused. So I let time take its course. My patience pays off. The folks relent and lend their consent.

Excerpted from Straight from the Heart
by Kapil Dev. Macmillan. Rs 395.