Voices from the past
Walking into the Hyderabad team of the 70s meant rubbingshoulders with some of the most glamorous cricketers of the time.I do not remember anything musical about the stylish Abbas AliBaig, a man made famous by a scorcher of a kiss a young femalefan
V Ramnarayan
31-Oct-2017
It was wonderful to watch a recent interview of Bhagwat
Chandrasekhar on a popular television programme. Harsha Bhogle,
who anchored the show, handled his subject with great
sensitivity and an obvious admiration for the great leg-spinner,
whose saga of courage was an integral part of the romance of
Indian cricket in the 60s and 70s.
Walking into the Hyderabad team of the 70s meant rubbing
shoulders with some of the most glamorous cricketers of the time.
I do not remember anything musical about the stylish Abbas Ali
Baig, a man made famous by a scorcher of a kiss a young female
fan planted on him when he reached fifty against Australia at the
Brabourne Stadium.
Inevitably, after a conducted tour of the Karnataka bowler's
greatest and lowest moments in cricket, the conversation veered
around to his obsession with the film songs of Mukesh, evoking
nostalgic memories of a whole generation of young cricketers who,
inspired by Chandra, carried Mukesh cassettes and their two-inones everywhere. On a personal level, I experienced a lump in the
throat as I recalled some rare moments of bonding with my peers
and seniors on and off the field.
Walking into the Hyderabad team of the 70s meant rubbing
shoulders with some of the most glamorous cricketers of the time.
I do not remember anything musical about the stylish Abbas Ali
Baig, a man made famous by a scorcher of a kiss a young female
fan planted on him when he reached fifty against Australia at the
Brabourne Stadium. The incident, in fact, led commentator Vijay
Merchant to exclaim, "I wonder where all these enterprising young
ladies were when I was scoring my hundreds and two hundreds."
But the former Nawab of Pataudi had a keen ear for music. His
preferences included Hindustani classical, but also music of a
lighter variety, as his frequent and stentorian rendering of
Mehdi Hassan's popular ghazal "Gulshan, gulshan" in the dressing
room suggested. Abid Ali was no Harry Belafonte, but he belted
out calypsos in the most uninhibited manner, especially one that
started, "The great India bowler, Abid A-a-li."
The skipper, ML Jaisimha, had a superbly masculine voice, and he
could do an impressive imitation of Frank Sinatra. On two
occasions, I was to witness bravura performances by this most
elegant of cricketers - once taking over nonchalantly from a live
band in a fashionable Bangkok restaurant and, years later, at the
V Sivaramakrishnan testimonial dinner at the Connemara, when he
struck up an improbable duet with Sunil Gavaskar.
An accomplished singer in the Hyderabad team of the 70s was
opener Maheshwar Singh, who specialised in the songs of Jagmohan,
a crooner of KL Saigal's vintage. Maheshwar was a regular
performer at cricketers' get-togethers, where many otherwise timid bathroom singers opened up because the spirit of the
singer, rather than his virtuosity, mattered in these gatherings,
and everyone was assured of hearty applause. Bombay left-arm
spinner Padmakar Shivalkar was a first-rate singer of Hindi film
songs; so was Vijay Manjrekar in an earlier era, son Sanjay
carrying on the tradition most admirably.
In Tamil Nadu - Chennai in particular - there has been a fairly
close affinity between musicians and cricket, especially in the
form of a fanatical following of the game among Carnatic
musicians. Quite a few of the top young musicians of today have
either played the game fairly competitively or have parents or
close relatives who have done so. The best known among these is
vocalist Unnikrishnan, who was a promising young batsman at the
college and league level before he decided to concentrate on his
singing.
Among the cricketers too, there has been the occasional talented
singer or instrumentalist. Left-arm spinner Bhargav Mehta, who
took 14 wickets in a Rohinton Baria final against Bombay
University, was an accomplished vocalist on the college circuit.
SJ Kedarnath, a former State Bank of India opening batsman of
considerable merit, is a trained "mridangam" player, but of much
greater entertainment value is his wonderful talent for mimicry.
Not only can he do some rip-roaring takeoffs on Tamil Nadu
celebrities like VV Kumar or Srinivas Venkataraghavan, but he can
also render perfectly acceptable imitations of past masters of
Carnatic music like MD Ramanathan or even the mellifluous female
voice of DK Pattammal.
Thank you Harsha, and thank you Chandra, for bringing back
memories of a cricketing way of life that belonged to an era
altogether more leisurely than is possible today.