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Of memories... and melodies...

Hemant Kenkre

For me, no business trip to Bangalore is ever complete without a meeting with the demolition man of Indian cricket of the 1970s, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar.

Appointment fixed, postal address taken, I trudge to Jayanagar, across the breadth of the Garden City which incidentally appeared quite oblivious of the then ongoing National Games, to meet one of my heroes.

Bangalore, with all its Crosses, Stages, Layouts, Enclaves and Blocks can confuse the heck out of a visitor seeking an address. I go around the busy Jayanagar Shopping Complex a couple of times trying to locate the cross-street where Chandra resides. A few enquiries and a couple of misdirections later, I land up, as I find out later, within an underarm throw's distance from Chandra's modest home.

Thoroughly confused, I seek the help of a crowd of youngster who are 'chilling out', in their own lingo, beside an ice-cream joint. "Can you show me where I could find this address?"

My question gets a negative nod from reverse-capped heads.

"I need to know where Mr B S Chandrsekhar, the former India Test cricketer lives?" I ask again.

Chandra who? is the look I get from the Pepsi generation - I think I should have maybe asked them about Rahul Dravid instead.

Takes some doing but I finally manage to locate Chandra's house. His son ushers me in and I make myself comfortable in a cane chair, waiting for the legend to make an appearance.

The room I am in is small and comfortable. A small glass show case, so typical of middle class Indian homes, is full of memorabilia from a bygone era. Autographed photographs mingle with mementoes. A snap of Chandra with 'Tiger' Pataudi, another with Ajit Wadekar, a third of him begin introduced to the Queen of England and of him waving out to a sea of Indians from the balcony of the Oval during the Indian summer of 1971... and by way of variation, there are a few cricket balls, which he had in his time slipped between the bat and pad of some of the world's best batsmen, neatly encased and preserved. Three ceramic figurines catch the eye - Dr W G Grace, taking guard in a manner which no cricket manual would recommend, Sir Frank Worrell playing a flowing drive in a now forgotten style, and Maurice Tate poised to deliver a swinger.

I know about his current handicap, but still expect Chandra to come bounding in, as he did in his salad days. When he does put in an appearance, it is with a steady tread, which makes my day, since the last time we met, he was walking with crutches. I am flooded with memories of a bearded Chandra walking up to his bowling mark. The 10 step run up to the bowling crease - 4 slow steps followed by 6 faster ones. The entire Brabourne Stadium clapping in rhythm. The whirring arms that deliver a unique blur of a ball - unreadable by most batsmen...

One remembers the myths that surrounded this great hero. 'He can turn his wrist 180 degrees' went one. 'He himself does not know what type of ball he is going to bowl, how do you expect the batsman to know?' was another familiar explanation of the celebrated Chandra mystique.

When you are with Chandra you talk cricket. Or do you? Left to himself, he would prefer to talk music. "I was invited for the 200th episode of Antakshari (a very popular song-based programme on television) but could not make it," he says with a hint of regret. "I told the organisers to get in touch with Ekki (his former teammate and arguably one of the greatest close catchers the game has seen, Eknath Solkar). I wonder if they did."

Ekki, recalls Chandra, was a music buff. So too was Ashok Mankad, Madan Lal and Karsan Ghavri, Chandra adds.

And from there, Chandra by natural progression talks of his favourite singer, the late Mukesh. "How is Nitin Mukesh doing? If you meet him, give him my regards. I read an article about a Mr Mukesh Desai who has the largest collection of old records. Can you please get me his contact numbers?" Chandra asks, "I would love to get in touch with him."

The Chandra seated before me has lost a lot of weight, and is looking real trim. More importantly, he is much more cheerful than he was when I'd met him after his unfortunate accident.

Since he doesn't go out of Bangalore these days, he uses my visit there to catch up with Bombay, a city he loves and which is my home. And to get from news of friends old and new, from Dilip Sardesai down to Rohan Gavaskar.

But time is short just when you want it to stretch forever. With reluctance, goodbyes and said, and I leave Chandra to his work.

On my way back to the hotel room, as the eye of the mind spools through great moments in Chandra's career, a thought occurs: these days, if you spend two minutes with anyone who has ever had the smallest association with cricket, the talk turns to bribery, betting, corruption and assorted ills both imagined and real.

What a relief, then, to find at this time a cricketing legend... to spend time with him... and have the pleasure of hearing him discourse on music...