I woke up early on Christmas morning and couldn’t believe my eyes. I didn’t see any soldiers on the roads; no tanks and guns, no sound of bombings. After 5 long years would I have a real Christmas. I wondered. Yes it was 5 years ago that it all started, when my world came crumbling around me…….
Historically speaking, Kashmir has never been peaceful since independence. Over the years it has gained a reputation of being a terrorist-infested region where people from other parts of my motherland would think twice before venturing into. And yet we never felt threatened or frustrated about our lives. That’s the beauty of us, Kashmiris. We live in such complete harmony that the outside world won’t believe if I said that the place where I lived was, in my eyes, was one of the most peaceful places to live in!
Ours was one of the very few Christian families living in the tiny town of Drass, which is a part of Kargil district. Kargil was one of the districts of Ladakh Wazarat Province before the Partition of Ladakh in 1947. The other two districts of Ladakh Wazarat were Skardo Baltistan and Leh Central Ladakh. Today, Kargil is one of the districts of Ladakh region in the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir. Kargil lies on the line of control facing Pakistan Controlled Kashmir's region of Baltistan. Zanskar is part of Kargil district along with Suru, Wakha and Drass valleys. Despite our drastic minority (in terms of religion), we never once felt out of place.
My father, Jebez Fernandez, used to travel daily up to the Zojila pass (which falls on the national highway connecting Leh and Srinagar) to sell dry-fruits and home-made wines. My mother, Sheila was a teacher at the local girls’ school, in which I had completed my schooling—a rather proud feat at that time, considering the dismal literacy rate among Kashmiri girls. Dad used to tell me that I inherited my self-respect and sense of independence from my mom. I had always wanted to become a writer—I’ve always felt that Kashmir (or the whole of India, for that matter) is a hotbed for so many stories untold….
But at that point in time, I was less interested in my prospects as a writer and more interested in expressing my feeling to Pervez, for I was sure of one thing—he was too shy to admit his feelings; so if one of us had to take the initiative, I had to be the one. As a result, I did not find it amoral to take a swig of wine from the innumerable vats that were stored in the attic. I don’t remember how much I had drunk. I was tasting it for the first time, and honestly, I hated it. But I thought (rather hoped) that it would give me enough courage coupled with some innocent shamelessness with which I was planning to surprise Pervez.
One of the main reasons why Kargil was specifically targeted for incursions was its terrain lent itself to a pre-emptive seizure. With tactically vital features and well-prepared defensive posts atop the peaks, it provided an ideal high ground for a defender akin to a fortress. Any attack to dislodge the enemy and reclaim high ground in a mountain warfare would require a far higher ratio of attackers to defenders, which is further exacerbated by the high altitude and freezing temperatures. All these worldly affairs didn’t seem to me as I was determined to meet Pervez at our regular place and was walking at a brisk pace (despite my rather inebriated state).
And then it happened. The first and last thing that registered in my mind was a heavy object hitting the back of my head, known as the medulla oblongata-I had learnt in a science class. It was all over in a flash.
I was not sure how long I slept (they say I was in coma for a period of 5 years). I also know now, that I was hit by the bomb hurled by cross-border militants and that it was the beginning of what we now know as the Kargil war.
When I opened my eyes at the hospital bed, there was darkness everywhere-hence I couldn’t see any soldiers outside. I couldn’t hear bombings because I cannot hear anything now. They say my sensory organs got irreversibly damaged in the blast and that I can never see or hear again. But I have reason to celebrate—I have become conscious again for the first time in more than 5 years. Isn’t it wonderful?
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Genesis of Terror
Three busloads of anxious scientists were supposed to leave at 5 p.m. and travel south, about 100 miles south of Albuquerque (the largest town in New Mexico). Everything was going as per schedule and Richard (one of the anxious scientists) was really excited about the whole affair. In fact, who wasn’t?
They eventually reached their vantage point-a ridge overlooking a great bowl of desert, in the middle of which was installed the gadget that was supposed to be tested for the first time in the history of humankind. They were stationed about 20 miles from the gadget and were waiting for the clock to strike 4 next morning, for 4 a.m. was the time when the gadget was supposed to be unleashed. Meanwhile, Richard was feasting on roast chicken, lemonade and chocolate, which were arranged by his boss’s wife.
They had two radios-one like a police radio to listen to and talk into a ground station and one was to listen to reports from a plane that was hovering above the entire area, which gave detailed reports about the various measurements, how the terrain looked from top, etc. Richard’s radio (the airplane one) wasn’t working and he tried all possible things with the radio, but it just wouldn’t work. He rechecked the transmitting frequency of the plane with some fellow scientists but he just couldn’t hear anything. All he could hear was a San Francisco station playing some music near the frequency band of the plane. He guessed that probably it was an image frequency problem, but he didn’t know what to do about it. There were a few electronic engineers in their entourage as well and he thought the best thing to do would be to ask for some help from those guys. An electronics whiz readily agreed to this proposal and came to Richard’s rescue, anticipating an interesting, if not difficult problem. He was however, disappointed to find out the cause of the ‘problem’. Richard was not able to hear anything from the radio simply because the guys in the plane weren’t transmitting any messages! As soon as the electronics chap walked by, they got a message “Due to interference by the weather, the experiment has been delayed. The shot will be at 5.30, it is now minus thirty minutes”.
Everyone set their watches and crowded around the radio. “Minus 10 minutes”. “Minus 3 minutes”. The scientists began to scatter across the hill so that they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. They took their dark glasses out and were getting ready for ‘the’ moment. Some even put on sun tan oil. Such a crazy bunch of optimists, thought Richard. Richard himself did not wear any glasses, for he wanted a ‘full-on, solid experience’. “Would everything go right?” Richard asked himself. And then it happened.
Richard was blinded by a terrific silver white flash-he just had to look away. Wherever he looked, an enormous purple splotch appeared-it was as bright when he closed his eyes. “That”, said his scientific brain to his befuddled one, “is an after-image caused by looking at a bright light-it is not the bomb you are looking at.” So he looked back at the bomb again. The sky looked like a vast yellow umbrella-the earth appeared white. The sky was gradually turning a sinister orange. In the sky, Richard saw white clouds formed just above the gadget caused by the sudden expansion due to the blast. The expansion cools the air and fog-clouds form- Richard had anticipated this. This cloud started to rise, leaving a trail of smoke below. The whole picture resembled a giant mushroom. The great ball of smoke and fire formed extended for more than three miles across.
Soon the orange started to die down and was now replaced by a deep purple, massive envelope. Richard had never witnessed such a grand jamboree of colors before.
The purple envelope was formed due to the ionized air caused by the extreme heat-this was Richard’s educated guess.
Then suddenly there was a sharp, loud clap followed by a resounding thunder which shook the insides of the scientists. “What was that?” cried an obviously nervous scientist. “That is the thing” yelled Richard. How could they forget that sound travels much slower than light, thought Richard. What they had seen so far was just a silent picture- the soundtrack for which was one minute and forty seconds late! At that moment, Richard knew that their experiment was a success. The generally phlegmatic scientists were jumping with joy, for they knew that they were a part of history now.
Later pictures and observations showed that an area almost one mile in diameter was covered by a green glasslike glaze formed by the melting sand at the surface. It was a visual spectacle-large, bright green elliptic mass surrounded by the vast, brown desert around. The whole affair was witnessed by three states- over two hundred miles in all directions.
However, this was not the only time that the ‘gadget’ was used. About twenty days after the incident, the ‘gadget’ was used for the actual purpose that it had been built -the annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki….
Writer’s note: The above article describes the first ever atomic bomb that was detonated in the New Mexico desert on July 16, 1945. The scientist ‘Richard’ was none other than the great physicist Richard Feynman, one of the key persons involved in the development of the atomic bomb. This article owes itself to a letter written by Richard Feynman to Lucille Feynman (his mother) dated August 9, 1945 wherein he describes his experience while witnessing the first atomic explosion to his mom. It is a pity and a matter of great shame that such dangerous weapon was employed against the Japanese. The people in Japan are still facing the repercussions of such an evil act. The dropping of atom bombs on Japan probably stands out in history as one of the most despicable mass-murders ever committed (the genocide of Jews by Hitler, the Kurds’ massacre by Saddam Hussein , our own Jallianwala baug episode being some of the other such unpardonable acts).
They eventually reached their vantage point-a ridge overlooking a great bowl of desert, in the middle of which was installed the gadget that was supposed to be tested for the first time in the history of humankind. They were stationed about 20 miles from the gadget and were waiting for the clock to strike 4 next morning, for 4 a.m. was the time when the gadget was supposed to be unleashed. Meanwhile, Richard was feasting on roast chicken, lemonade and chocolate, which were arranged by his boss’s wife.
They had two radios-one like a police radio to listen to and talk into a ground station and one was to listen to reports from a plane that was hovering above the entire area, which gave detailed reports about the various measurements, how the terrain looked from top, etc. Richard’s radio (the airplane one) wasn’t working and he tried all possible things with the radio, but it just wouldn’t work. He rechecked the transmitting frequency of the plane with some fellow scientists but he just couldn’t hear anything. All he could hear was a San Francisco station playing some music near the frequency band of the plane. He guessed that probably it was an image frequency problem, but he didn’t know what to do about it. There were a few electronic engineers in their entourage as well and he thought the best thing to do would be to ask for some help from those guys. An electronics whiz readily agreed to this proposal and came to Richard’s rescue, anticipating an interesting, if not difficult problem. He was however, disappointed to find out the cause of the ‘problem’. Richard was not able to hear anything from the radio simply because the guys in the plane weren’t transmitting any messages! As soon as the electronics chap walked by, they got a message “Due to interference by the weather, the experiment has been delayed. The shot will be at 5.30, it is now minus thirty minutes”.
Everyone set their watches and crowded around the radio. “Minus 10 minutes”. “Minus 3 minutes”. The scientists began to scatter across the hill so that they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. They took their dark glasses out and were getting ready for ‘the’ moment. Some even put on sun tan oil. Such a crazy bunch of optimists, thought Richard. Richard himself did not wear any glasses, for he wanted a ‘full-on, solid experience’. “Would everything go right?” Richard asked himself. And then it happened.
Richard was blinded by a terrific silver white flash-he just had to look away. Wherever he looked, an enormous purple splotch appeared-it was as bright when he closed his eyes. “That”, said his scientific brain to his befuddled one, “is an after-image caused by looking at a bright light-it is not the bomb you are looking at.” So he looked back at the bomb again. The sky looked like a vast yellow umbrella-the earth appeared white. The sky was gradually turning a sinister orange. In the sky, Richard saw white clouds formed just above the gadget caused by the sudden expansion due to the blast. The expansion cools the air and fog-clouds form- Richard had anticipated this. This cloud started to rise, leaving a trail of smoke below. The whole picture resembled a giant mushroom. The great ball of smoke and fire formed extended for more than three miles across.
Soon the orange started to die down and was now replaced by a deep purple, massive envelope. Richard had never witnessed such a grand jamboree of colors before.
The purple envelope was formed due to the ionized air caused by the extreme heat-this was Richard’s educated guess.
Then suddenly there was a sharp, loud clap followed by a resounding thunder which shook the insides of the scientists. “What was that?” cried an obviously nervous scientist. “That is the thing” yelled Richard. How could they forget that sound travels much slower than light, thought Richard. What they had seen so far was just a silent picture- the soundtrack for which was one minute and forty seconds late! At that moment, Richard knew that their experiment was a success. The generally phlegmatic scientists were jumping with joy, for they knew that they were a part of history now.
Later pictures and observations showed that an area almost one mile in diameter was covered by a green glasslike glaze formed by the melting sand at the surface. It was a visual spectacle-large, bright green elliptic mass surrounded by the vast, brown desert around. The whole affair was witnessed by three states- over two hundred miles in all directions.
However, this was not the only time that the ‘gadget’ was used. About twenty days after the incident, the ‘gadget’ was used for the actual purpose that it had been built -the annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki….
Writer’s note: The above article describes the first ever atomic bomb that was detonated in the New Mexico desert on July 16, 1945. The scientist ‘Richard’ was none other than the great physicist Richard Feynman, one of the key persons involved in the development of the atomic bomb. This article owes itself to a letter written by Richard Feynman to Lucille Feynman (his mother) dated August 9, 1945 wherein he describes his experience while witnessing the first atomic explosion to his mom. It is a pity and a matter of great shame that such dangerous weapon was employed against the Japanese. The people in Japan are still facing the repercussions of such an evil act. The dropping of atom bombs on Japan probably stands out in history as one of the most despicable mass-murders ever committed (the genocide of Jews by Hitler, the Kurds’ massacre by Saddam Hussein , our own Jallianwala baug episode being some of the other such unpardonable acts).
Gold Rush
Anuj was more than excited about the weekend that lay ahead. It had been quite a while since he and his good ol’ buddies had had such a get-together. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Hours and hours of yapping…discussing private lives, sob stories, triumphs, electronic gadgets, automobiles(which are way beyond their reach), films, sports, politics, celebrity scandals and of course, women….And finally all those stories getting dissolved in barrels of booze….and with Pink Floyd to top it up, who needs LSD?
These were the thoughts that prevented Anuj from concentrating on his work that Friday afternoon. But because of the Friday bonhomie (which is so very common in workplaces that remain non functional on Saturdays and Sundays), his boss didn’t pay any particular attention to his demeanor.
Finally the day was coming to an end and the smile on Anuj’s lips was only growing wider. For any such party, one had to make arrangements for the single most important input: Money, the Universal God. Money, according to Anuj, was of prime importance in this world. With these thoughts, he headed for the nearest ATM to get some fast-cash for the weekend.
‘About nine hundred bucks should be enough…..no, no, that’s too much…seven hundred is more like it’, contemplated Anuj. He swiped in his card and punched in the four-digit PIN mechanically. ‘Enter the amount you want to withdraw’, flashed the machine, after validating his card and ascertaining his account type. ‘700.00’, typed Anuj. ‘Do you want a printed record of the transaction?’.’ No’ (what the hell am I going to do with it..). ‘Don’t forget to collect your cash’. (Yeah rite…I was planning to leave those seven hundred for the poor chap who’ll come in next…….)
At first, Anuj couldn’t believe his eyes. He had a hard, long look at the stack that was rite in front of him. A cool One Thousand One Hundred Indian Rupees! He felt confident that he had typed in the right amount. He immediately regretted that he hadn’t chosen the option of the ‘printed record of transaction’. He decided to try it out one more time. This time he punched in the amount as Rs. 100/- and also selected the option for the ‘printed record of transaction’ as an assertive ‘Yes’.
Anuj was beginning to get really worked up. The record showed a withdrawal of Rs. 100/- but he saw Gandhi smiling back at him through the Five Hundred note, reassuring him that indeed he had hit the jackpot. Being naturally inquisitive, he decided to give it a shot again. This time decided to go for Rs. 500/-. What he got back was a paltry sum of hundred rupees! The record, however, showed Rs. 500/- as the transaction amount! He thought for a while, and then it struck him. The machine was interchanging five-hundred rupee notes with hundred-rupee ones!
He thought about the situation for a good two minutes. Then, fearing that the guard might get suspicious, Anuj briskly walked out of the ATM kiosk. When he was clearly out of the guard’s vision, he analyzed the whole situation calmly. Finally he made up his mind and arrived at a conclusion (which, according to him, was the best course of action).
He took out his cellular phone from his pocket and dialed his best friend (or so he claimed) Karan’s number. After explaining the whole scene and his future course of action, he waited for Karan’s response.
Karan, equally excited by now, asked “Are you sure we should do it? I mean …”
“Yes I’m sure. There’s no looking back”, interrupted Anuj. “ Don’t forget to get your ATM card with you Anuj. How much do you have in your account?”
“Hmm…”
“Oh come on Karan, this is not the time to maintain secrecy”
“Twenty Nine Thousand Four Hundred Something”
“Ohh….see, I always used to emphasize the importance of saving. How good would it have been if you could have saved more! Anyways, I’m in no mood for sermons. Please come as soon as you can. If we use our brains, we can extract maximum out of that goddamn machine. This is the time to act, Karan‼”
“Yes, I understand. I’ll be there in no time.”
“And please don’t forget to get a couple of big bags”
“Alright. Buh-bye and all the best”
Once they began their 'task' under the speculative eye of the guard, the whole thing got over in a matter of nine minutes--both of them beaming with pride of the mathematical finesse they had displayed. They'd cleaned up a sum of One Lakh Eighty Four Thousand before the machine said "No more cash available." With three bags full of cash, Anuj sped away in his car, managing to convince Karan that it was best for him to 'hang around' in his house!
Within ten minutes, Anuj had reached their destination. The sleepy eyed policeman just couldn’t believe the story. Anuj had to repeat it a couple of times to get the whole episode across. “Yes sir, it’s true. That’s why we withdrew as much money as we could so that we could avoid misuse of the machine.”
The cop was delighted. “Oh great! Thanks for the prompt action, lad. We need guys like you! Prabhakar, call those folks from the bank and tell them abou........"
These were the thoughts that prevented Anuj from concentrating on his work that Friday afternoon. But because of the Friday bonhomie (which is so very common in workplaces that remain non functional on Saturdays and Sundays), his boss didn’t pay any particular attention to his demeanor.
Finally the day was coming to an end and the smile on Anuj’s lips was only growing wider. For any such party, one had to make arrangements for the single most important input: Money, the Universal God. Money, according to Anuj, was of prime importance in this world. With these thoughts, he headed for the nearest ATM to get some fast-cash for the weekend.
‘About nine hundred bucks should be enough…..no, no, that’s too much…seven hundred is more like it’, contemplated Anuj. He swiped in his card and punched in the four-digit PIN mechanically. ‘Enter the amount you want to withdraw’, flashed the machine, after validating his card and ascertaining his account type. ‘700.00’, typed Anuj. ‘Do you want a printed record of the transaction?’.’ No’ (what the hell am I going to do with it..). ‘Don’t forget to collect your cash’. (Yeah rite…I was planning to leave those seven hundred for the poor chap who’ll come in next…….)
At first, Anuj couldn’t believe his eyes. He had a hard, long look at the stack that was rite in front of him. A cool One Thousand One Hundred Indian Rupees! He felt confident that he had typed in the right amount. He immediately regretted that he hadn’t chosen the option of the ‘printed record of transaction’. He decided to try it out one more time. This time he punched in the amount as Rs. 100/- and also selected the option for the ‘printed record of transaction’ as an assertive ‘Yes’.
Anuj was beginning to get really worked up. The record showed a withdrawal of Rs. 100/- but he saw Gandhi smiling back at him through the Five Hundred note, reassuring him that indeed he had hit the jackpot. Being naturally inquisitive, he decided to give it a shot again. This time decided to go for Rs. 500/-. What he got back was a paltry sum of hundred rupees! The record, however, showed Rs. 500/- as the transaction amount! He thought for a while, and then it struck him. The machine was interchanging five-hundred rupee notes with hundred-rupee ones!
He thought about the situation for a good two minutes. Then, fearing that the guard might get suspicious, Anuj briskly walked out of the ATM kiosk. When he was clearly out of the guard’s vision, he analyzed the whole situation calmly. Finally he made up his mind and arrived at a conclusion (which, according to him, was the best course of action).
He took out his cellular phone from his pocket and dialed his best friend (or so he claimed) Karan’s number. After explaining the whole scene and his future course of action, he waited for Karan’s response.
Karan, equally excited by now, asked “Are you sure we should do it? I mean …”
“Yes I’m sure. There’s no looking back”, interrupted Anuj. “ Don’t forget to get your ATM card with you Anuj. How much do you have in your account?”
“Hmm…”
“Oh come on Karan, this is not the time to maintain secrecy”
“Twenty Nine Thousand Four Hundred Something”
“Ohh….see, I always used to emphasize the importance of saving. How good would it have been if you could have saved more! Anyways, I’m in no mood for sermons. Please come as soon as you can. If we use our brains, we can extract maximum out of that goddamn machine. This is the time to act, Karan‼”
“Yes, I understand. I’ll be there in no time.”
“And please don’t forget to get a couple of big bags”
“Alright. Buh-bye and all the best”
Once they began their 'task' under the speculative eye of the guard, the whole thing got over in a matter of nine minutes--both of them beaming with pride of the mathematical finesse they had displayed. They'd cleaned up a sum of One Lakh Eighty Four Thousand before the machine said "No more cash available." With three bags full of cash, Anuj sped away in his car, managing to convince Karan that it was best for him to 'hang around' in his house!
Within ten minutes, Anuj had reached their destination. The sleepy eyed policeman just couldn’t believe the story. Anuj had to repeat it a couple of times to get the whole episode across. “Yes sir, it’s true. That’s why we withdrew as much money as we could so that we could avoid misuse of the machine.”
The cop was delighted. “Oh great! Thanks for the prompt action, lad. We need guys like you! Prabhakar, call those folks from the bank and tell them abou........"
Monday, July 14, 2008
The Last Resort
“I love you”, shouted a woman.
“Kill her”, said another voice.
“Bravo”, exclaimed another lady in the crowd.
“Long live the law” and many other such slogans boomed through the hot May air in Mumbai (then Bombay)….
As Shyam was making his way through the over-indulgent crowd, his mind was flooded with a torrent of emotions, both positive and negative. He couldn’t make sense of most of what was happening around him. He wasn’t aware of what people were thinking of him at that point of time (in fact, people’s opinion about him was the last thing on his mind ). But he vividly remembered each of the incidents, some five months back, which led to this very occasion ….
It was a cold December night. December evenings in Mumbai are great; the cool air soothes the day’s stress after all the hard work. The feeling of returning to your family on a Friday evening after work is rather difficult to articulate in words. Shyam Karnik was an accountant in an auditing firm in Nariman Point, and was very happy with his work. He was one of those people who might not have very big ambitions or plans in life, but go about doing their duty or 'karma' in everyday life and are more than satisfied. With the salary that he drew, he was sure of keeping his family well-fed and happy. Shyam had been married for about a year then; his family consisted of himself and his wife Preeti, who had seemed to prove ‘lucky’ for Shyam, as he loved to claim; he used to brag about her to his friends , ”My life turned 360 degrees after I married Preeti; I’ve never been so happy”. He was returning from work a couple of hours earlier than usual, thanks to a sudden rush of kindness from his boss. With a happy song on his lips, Shyam made his way back to his home as fast he could, thinking about the potentially wonderful weekend that lay ahead…
It seemed a bit unusual to Shyam that Preeti opened the door almost instantly after Shyam rang the bell (he was accustomed to Preeti taking a good minute or two before opening the door). What seemed more unusual was that Preeti’s smile appeared and disappeared before even he could say “Love you, honey”. When he explained the reason for him coming so early, she did not seem particularly pleased. Shyam could see that something was troubling her. When he asked her if he could do anything, all that she replied was “I’ve to go to the market and get some vegetables” and she was gone.
When she came back, after about half an hour, Shyam realized that the vegetables that Preeti had bought had a peculiar property: they were invisible!! But Mohammad Rafi’s ultra-smooth voice over the radio kept him from worrying about trivialities like his wife’s whereabouts. Unsuspecting by nature, he did not ask his wife questions that would have made her uncomfortable. However, he did keep this incident filed away in his mind….
This ‘unusual’ incident was then followed by a series of incidents where Preeti seemed strangely anxious and nervous. But the one thing that struck Shyam as genuinely alarming was the wrist-watch episode. One fine day when Shyam came home and was met by the cursory ‘good evening’ from his wife , he couldn’t help notice a Rolex watch lying beside his bed, on the floor. When he asked Preeti about it, all that she could come up with was “I found it on our stairway; it looked so beautiful that I decided to bring it home and give it to you”. What Shyam could not understand was that if she really wanted to give it to him, why would she place it on the floor of their bedroom. He had already given up the illusion that Preeti loved him as much as he loved her; her behaviour over the last few weeks had made it clear. He now started doubting the worst: that Preeti was having an affair with someone else. Due to fear of ridicule, he decided to keep tabs on his wife himself, rather than hiring private detectives. After applying for a ‘sick’ leave (without informing his wife, of course) he decided to watch all his wife’s actions. While Preeti was under the impression that Shyam had left for office, Shyam was hiding in the neighborhood, looking for that clinching evidence…..
It was 3 o clock in the noon and Shyam had almost absolved her of all his doubts when a man, who looked to be in his early forties, well-dressed and smart entered their house. Shyam could not believe his eyes; but he decided to play it cool and tackle the problem, step-by-step. What followed was the most brain-shattering, restless ninety minutes of Shyam’s life. As soon as the man left their house, Shyam immediately ran back to his house and rang the doorbell. Once again, Preeti opened the door with an expression filled with illicit mischief and exclaimed “I knew you w…” and stopped in her tracks….her physical condition left Shyam in no doubt as to what would have happened in their house during the last ninety minutes.
Shyam then explained, that he was waiting in the neighborhood and that he knew everything. He asked her to come clean with her confession, as there was no point lying to him now. Preeti then went on to narrate how she had met Vivek Bansal at a supermarket one evening and how he had impressed her with not only his personality, but also his speech. He was a successful businessman in the upper echelons of Bombay and was a man who knew the ways of the world. Then she said something that no self respecting husband would like to hear. She told Shyam that despite being a good husband, she did not love him and that she had found that love which she was looking for in Vivek.
Shyam, the good Samaritan that he was, decided, on hearing all this, to talk directly to Vivek Bansal and settle the matter. He approached Vivek one fine morning in Vivek’s plush, South Bombay office. Shyam identified himself as Preeti’s unfortunate husband and made Vivek an offer: if Vivek would marry Preeti and redeem her ‘honour’, he would forget all bitterness and recede away from their life, after divorcing Preeti. On hearing this, Vivek coolly replied, “If I have to marry Preeti just because I slept with her, I would have to marry a hundred other women!!! Get lost and don’t disturb me again” This set off a wave of rage in Shyam; a kind of rage that Shyam didn’t know he was capable of. He thought to himself, “Tonight I’m going to set things right”
The same night, he went up to Vivek’s apartment, with all his thoughts clear and concise. As soon as Vivek’s servant opened the door, without warning, Shyam pumped 6 rounds of bullets from the .38 caliber Colt that he had procured from a local goon, straight into Vivek’s body. Vivek was declared dead by the doctors even before he was admitted to the hospital. Vivek’s relatives summoned one of the best lawyers in town. To the lawyers, it was an open and shut case. Highly incriminating evidence, over half a dozen witnesses and plus the cold-blooded nature of the murder would have been enough to keep Shyam in the dungeons for a decade, at least.
However, the case took a topsy-turvy turn when it reached the courts. When Preeti testified, in front of the jury, it became clear to everyone that Shyam had murdered Vivek only after Vivek refused to marry her; there were at least three witnesses to the conversation that had taken place between Vivek and Shyam. There were also testimonies from other people who gave Shyam a ‘good character’ certificate. He was established, beyond reasonable doubt, as a man of principles. The courtroom was packed and people were anxious to hear the verdict of the jury…..
The jury delivered a stunning verdict, which made front-page news the next day. They had acquitted Shyam of the crime in a whopping 11:1 majority!! As he was being taken out of the court, the situation outside was chaotic. There were people cheering him on and shouting praises. But deep down, Shyam was scarred for life…….
Writer’s note : This was an incident which occurred in the late fifties and this case was one more reason why the jury system was abolished in India. The jury system had already began to draw a lot of flak and criticism for various technical reasons. Finally, the Government of India decided to do away with it and installed the Judge system. Whether it was for the better or for the worse is something which people are discussing even today.
“Kill her”, said another voice.
“Bravo”, exclaimed another lady in the crowd.
“Long live the law” and many other such slogans boomed through the hot May air in Mumbai (then Bombay)….
As Shyam was making his way through the over-indulgent crowd, his mind was flooded with a torrent of emotions, both positive and negative. He couldn’t make sense of most of what was happening around him. He wasn’t aware of what people were thinking of him at that point of time (in fact, people’s opinion about him was the last thing on his mind ). But he vividly remembered each of the incidents, some five months back, which led to this very occasion ….
It was a cold December night. December evenings in Mumbai are great; the cool air soothes the day’s stress after all the hard work. The feeling of returning to your family on a Friday evening after work is rather difficult to articulate in words. Shyam Karnik was an accountant in an auditing firm in Nariman Point, and was very happy with his work. He was one of those people who might not have very big ambitions or plans in life, but go about doing their duty or 'karma' in everyday life and are more than satisfied. With the salary that he drew, he was sure of keeping his family well-fed and happy. Shyam had been married for about a year then; his family consisted of himself and his wife Preeti, who had seemed to prove ‘lucky’ for Shyam, as he loved to claim; he used to brag about her to his friends , ”My life turned 360 degrees after I married Preeti; I’ve never been so happy”. He was returning from work a couple of hours earlier than usual, thanks to a sudden rush of kindness from his boss. With a happy song on his lips, Shyam made his way back to his home as fast he could, thinking about the potentially wonderful weekend that lay ahead…
It seemed a bit unusual to Shyam that Preeti opened the door almost instantly after Shyam rang the bell (he was accustomed to Preeti taking a good minute or two before opening the door). What seemed more unusual was that Preeti’s smile appeared and disappeared before even he could say “Love you, honey”. When he explained the reason for him coming so early, she did not seem particularly pleased. Shyam could see that something was troubling her. When he asked her if he could do anything, all that she replied was “I’ve to go to the market and get some vegetables” and she was gone.
When she came back, after about half an hour, Shyam realized that the vegetables that Preeti had bought had a peculiar property: they were invisible!! But Mohammad Rafi’s ultra-smooth voice over the radio kept him from worrying about trivialities like his wife’s whereabouts. Unsuspecting by nature, he did not ask his wife questions that would have made her uncomfortable. However, he did keep this incident filed away in his mind….
This ‘unusual’ incident was then followed by a series of incidents where Preeti seemed strangely anxious and nervous. But the one thing that struck Shyam as genuinely alarming was the wrist-watch episode. One fine day when Shyam came home and was met by the cursory ‘good evening’ from his wife , he couldn’t help notice a Rolex watch lying beside his bed, on the floor. When he asked Preeti about it, all that she could come up with was “I found it on our stairway; it looked so beautiful that I decided to bring it home and give it to you”. What Shyam could not understand was that if she really wanted to give it to him, why would she place it on the floor of their bedroom. He had already given up the illusion that Preeti loved him as much as he loved her; her behaviour over the last few weeks had made it clear. He now started doubting the worst: that Preeti was having an affair with someone else. Due to fear of ridicule, he decided to keep tabs on his wife himself, rather than hiring private detectives. After applying for a ‘sick’ leave (without informing his wife, of course) he decided to watch all his wife’s actions. While Preeti was under the impression that Shyam had left for office, Shyam was hiding in the neighborhood, looking for that clinching evidence…..
It was 3 o clock in the noon and Shyam had almost absolved her of all his doubts when a man, who looked to be in his early forties, well-dressed and smart entered their house. Shyam could not believe his eyes; but he decided to play it cool and tackle the problem, step-by-step. What followed was the most brain-shattering, restless ninety minutes of Shyam’s life. As soon as the man left their house, Shyam immediately ran back to his house and rang the doorbell. Once again, Preeti opened the door with an expression filled with illicit mischief and exclaimed “I knew you w…” and stopped in her tracks….her physical condition left Shyam in no doubt as to what would have happened in their house during the last ninety minutes.
Shyam then explained, that he was waiting in the neighborhood and that he knew everything. He asked her to come clean with her confession, as there was no point lying to him now. Preeti then went on to narrate how she had met Vivek Bansal at a supermarket one evening and how he had impressed her with not only his personality, but also his speech. He was a successful businessman in the upper echelons of Bombay and was a man who knew the ways of the world. Then she said something that no self respecting husband would like to hear. She told Shyam that despite being a good husband, she did not love him and that she had found that love which she was looking for in Vivek.
Shyam, the good Samaritan that he was, decided, on hearing all this, to talk directly to Vivek Bansal and settle the matter. He approached Vivek one fine morning in Vivek’s plush, South Bombay office. Shyam identified himself as Preeti’s unfortunate husband and made Vivek an offer: if Vivek would marry Preeti and redeem her ‘honour’, he would forget all bitterness and recede away from their life, after divorcing Preeti. On hearing this, Vivek coolly replied, “If I have to marry Preeti just because I slept with her, I would have to marry a hundred other women!!! Get lost and don’t disturb me again” This set off a wave of rage in Shyam; a kind of rage that Shyam didn’t know he was capable of. He thought to himself, “Tonight I’m going to set things right”
The same night, he went up to Vivek’s apartment, with all his thoughts clear and concise. As soon as Vivek’s servant opened the door, without warning, Shyam pumped 6 rounds of bullets from the .38 caliber Colt that he had procured from a local goon, straight into Vivek’s body. Vivek was declared dead by the doctors even before he was admitted to the hospital. Vivek’s relatives summoned one of the best lawyers in town. To the lawyers, it was an open and shut case. Highly incriminating evidence, over half a dozen witnesses and plus the cold-blooded nature of the murder would have been enough to keep Shyam in the dungeons for a decade, at least.
However, the case took a topsy-turvy turn when it reached the courts. When Preeti testified, in front of the jury, it became clear to everyone that Shyam had murdered Vivek only after Vivek refused to marry her; there were at least three witnesses to the conversation that had taken place between Vivek and Shyam. There were also testimonies from other people who gave Shyam a ‘good character’ certificate. He was established, beyond reasonable doubt, as a man of principles. The courtroom was packed and people were anxious to hear the verdict of the jury…..
The jury delivered a stunning verdict, which made front-page news the next day. They had acquitted Shyam of the crime in a whopping 11:1 majority!! As he was being taken out of the court, the situation outside was chaotic. There were people cheering him on and shouting praises. But deep down, Shyam was scarred for life…….
Writer’s note : This was an incident which occurred in the late fifties and this case was one more reason why the jury system was abolished in India. The jury system had already began to draw a lot of flak and criticism for various technical reasons. Finally, the Government of India decided to do away with it and installed the Judge system. Whether it was for the better or for the worse is something which people are discussing even today.
Second Coming
Despite being in the pink of health, Joseph Saldana had long lost the lust for life.
Aged 56, he had no dependants and wasn’t dependent on anyone. All efforts by his colleagues (at the soap company that he worked for) for making him more sociable were in vain. He had become a recluse beyond repair. When he was still in his ‘marriageable’ age (yes, in India the concept of being ‘appropriate’, age-wise, for marriage is well-rooted in the mindsets of people), his friends-although few in number-had often tried to persuade him to get married. But he was firm and always had the same reply-no.
Joseph had taken very badly to Janaki’s death. The only memories that he cherished were those of the times he had spent with Janaki, some thirty years back. What he looked back with horror, was the way in which Janaki’s life had been terminated. He never really came to terms with the fact that someone could be so macabre, so beastly as to thrash someone so miserably that even the paramedics had found it extremely difficult to handle Janaki’s dead body. The most painful thing was that Joseph perfectly knew who had murdered Janaki......
For anyone who knew Shambhu, it would have been next to impossible to believe that he could be violent enough to kill an ant, let alone a human being. And this had nothing to do with the fact that he was thin. It was just that he was very calm by nature and was in the good books of everyone he knew. But Joseph knew fully well what kind of a psychotic freak Shambhu really was. Janaki and Shambhu’s families lived in the same building in a suburb of Chennai (then Madras) and they were good friends-childhood chums. But only three people in the world knew that he fancied Janaki- Janaki, Joseph and Shambhu himself. When Shambhu had made his feelings clear to Janaki, she refused Shambhu’s proposal because she was already committed to Joseph, but had the courtesy to turn him down in the politest of words. On hearing the refusal, a certain obscene, devilish expression had appeared on his otherwise friendly face which had made Janaki very uneasy. It was pretty clear to Janaki that he was obsessed with her. When she narrated the whole episode to Joseph, he had asked her to stay away from him while he will think of some way to handle the situation. But Janaki hadn’t lived long enough for Joseph to ‘handle the situation’. Within 48 hours of the ‘proposal’, the police had found Janaki’s body behind the water tank at the far-end of the housing society where Janaki lived-and where Joseph often came to meet her. Joseph could never pardon himself for not turning up at their meeting point that night. He had been stuck with some work and had failed to meet her on that fateful night.
When the investigation started, Joseph found it absolutely impossible to convince anyone that Shambhu could be capable of murdering her. All the while, Shambhu wore the mask of innocence so well that sometimes even Joseph thought that Shambhu was innocent after all. But when the investigations were officially closed, Shambhu had given Joseph a look of triumph that left Joseph completely helpless. Joseph never laughed again in his life. He had been totally shattered and decided to leave it all and settle in a new place, in a new environment so that his private demons could be thwarted.
Joseph had been living alone in the city of Pune for the past 30 years now; but even after all these years, he was being tormented by his past. He often had ‘visions’ of Janaki wherein she apologized for deserting him but also urged him to punish Shambhu, her murderer. Joseph had stopped visiting psychiatrists (who preferred to give him ‘pills’ than empathy) and had resigned to a life of constant inner turmoil. He never mentioned his ‘visions’ to his friends, lest they would declare him as insane. Worse still, they would tell him that these were just hallucinations; while Joseph firmly believed that these weren’t hallucinations, but were an appeal from a dead person to a broken, failed human being. What troubled Joseph even more was that these ‘visions’ had greatly increased in number in the last 5 years and he couldn’t fathom why….
Joseph believed that nothing could shock him; nothing could make him react with excitement now, until he saw Gauri. Her face had shocked the beejesus out of him-she was en exact replica of Janaki! The only thing which kept him from believing she was Janaki was her youthfulness. Had Janaki been alive, she would have been 55, while this young lady would be no more than 25. Apparently Gauri was a model who had been hired by the company Joseph worked for. Being a senior employee of the company, he had no trouble in establishing contact with her. For some eerie reason, he felt she could sympathize with him and he ended up pouring out his whole story to her, adding that she looked exactly like his only love, Janaki.
For the first time in three decades, Joseph started feeling that he could deliver justice to Janaki. Joseph began to hatch a plan slowly, but surely. But for the plan to succeed, he needed Gauri’s help. When he explained to Gauri what he planned to do, Gauri was convinced that this was a great opportunity for Joseph to get even. Joseph now had a new lease of life and a purpose to live for. The first step in the plan was to track Shambhu down-in case he was alive.
Tracking Shambhu down had been more difficult than Joseph had imagined. He had applied for a 10-day leave from his company (which they happily approved-after all, he had hardly taken a day-off in his career) and decided to start his mission. His first destination was obviously Chennai, where he checked with acquaintances (many of whom had forgotten him) about Shambhu Sambasivan’s whereabouts. After a lot of questioning , he found out that Shambhu had left Chennai some twenty years back and had settled as a convenience-store owner in Hyderabad. On reaching Hyderabad and questioning the right people (whose contacts he had acquired in Chennai), he found out that Mr. Sambasivan was highly respected in trade circles and often traveled all over India on business trips. He also learned that Mr. Sambasivan had settled in Pune since the past 5 years!!
For the last five years, this devil of a human being had been lurking in his own backyard and Joseph didn’t even know about it! But now that Shambhu was in Pune, Joseph experienced a hitherto unknown spurge of confidence. He knew the locality around him like the back of his hand and he now knew for sure how to extract revenge.
He learnt about the All India traders’ conference that was supposed to be held in the Town Hall in a couple of days. It was precisely this opportunity that Joseph had been looking for. However, for the plan to succeed, Gauri had to play her part perfectly well. It had all been arranged for: Joseph had explained the whole story to the cops and convinced them to attend the meeting in plainclothes so that they could nab Shambhu red handed. The prima facie evidence would be overwhelming. He himself had prepared to be present at the Town Hall to orchestrate the whole drama….
Finally the day arrived. Joseph couldn’t believe that this person was someone other than his own Janaki. The same angelic face, the same blemishless beauty…
When she approached Shambhu, he let out a loud shriek which at once filled the Hall with absolute silence. With a contorted face, he exploded,”How the hell can you be alive? I had smashed you to death with these very hands…..” The next thing he knew was persons in plainclothes arresting him with handcuffs. But his brain was far too disturbed to comprehend what was happening. He offered no resistance to the cops and they quickly rounded him up into their police van. The people in the hall were still shocked on seeing this whole episode. One can’t say Joseph was particularly delighted, but he now had a sense of immense satisfaction, something which he had never experienced for a long, long time now. All this had happened faster than he had imagined.
Just as he was leaving the Hall, Gauri came running inside and exclaimed, “I’m extremely sorry for being late. Hope he’s still in there.” “What are you talking about? You just did a perfect job of trapping that monster” said Joseph. “That’s impossible. I just came in now” replied Gauri…….
Aged 56, he had no dependants and wasn’t dependent on anyone. All efforts by his colleagues (at the soap company that he worked for) for making him more sociable were in vain. He had become a recluse beyond repair. When he was still in his ‘marriageable’ age (yes, in India the concept of being ‘appropriate’, age-wise, for marriage is well-rooted in the mindsets of people), his friends-although few in number-had often tried to persuade him to get married. But he was firm and always had the same reply-no.
Joseph had taken very badly to Janaki’s death. The only memories that he cherished were those of the times he had spent with Janaki, some thirty years back. What he looked back with horror, was the way in which Janaki’s life had been terminated. He never really came to terms with the fact that someone could be so macabre, so beastly as to thrash someone so miserably that even the paramedics had found it extremely difficult to handle Janaki’s dead body. The most painful thing was that Joseph perfectly knew who had murdered Janaki......
For anyone who knew Shambhu, it would have been next to impossible to believe that he could be violent enough to kill an ant, let alone a human being. And this had nothing to do with the fact that he was thin. It was just that he was very calm by nature and was in the good books of everyone he knew. But Joseph knew fully well what kind of a psychotic freak Shambhu really was. Janaki and Shambhu’s families lived in the same building in a suburb of Chennai (then Madras) and they were good friends-childhood chums. But only three people in the world knew that he fancied Janaki- Janaki, Joseph and Shambhu himself. When Shambhu had made his feelings clear to Janaki, she refused Shambhu’s proposal because she was already committed to Joseph, but had the courtesy to turn him down in the politest of words. On hearing the refusal, a certain obscene, devilish expression had appeared on his otherwise friendly face which had made Janaki very uneasy. It was pretty clear to Janaki that he was obsessed with her. When she narrated the whole episode to Joseph, he had asked her to stay away from him while he will think of some way to handle the situation. But Janaki hadn’t lived long enough for Joseph to ‘handle the situation’. Within 48 hours of the ‘proposal’, the police had found Janaki’s body behind the water tank at the far-end of the housing society where Janaki lived-and where Joseph often came to meet her. Joseph could never pardon himself for not turning up at their meeting point that night. He had been stuck with some work and had failed to meet her on that fateful night.
When the investigation started, Joseph found it absolutely impossible to convince anyone that Shambhu could be capable of murdering her. All the while, Shambhu wore the mask of innocence so well that sometimes even Joseph thought that Shambhu was innocent after all. But when the investigations were officially closed, Shambhu had given Joseph a look of triumph that left Joseph completely helpless. Joseph never laughed again in his life. He had been totally shattered and decided to leave it all and settle in a new place, in a new environment so that his private demons could be thwarted.
Joseph had been living alone in the city of Pune for the past 30 years now; but even after all these years, he was being tormented by his past. He often had ‘visions’ of Janaki wherein she apologized for deserting him but also urged him to punish Shambhu, her murderer. Joseph had stopped visiting psychiatrists (who preferred to give him ‘pills’ than empathy) and had resigned to a life of constant inner turmoil. He never mentioned his ‘visions’ to his friends, lest they would declare him as insane. Worse still, they would tell him that these were just hallucinations; while Joseph firmly believed that these weren’t hallucinations, but were an appeal from a dead person to a broken, failed human being. What troubled Joseph even more was that these ‘visions’ had greatly increased in number in the last 5 years and he couldn’t fathom why….
Joseph believed that nothing could shock him; nothing could make him react with excitement now, until he saw Gauri. Her face had shocked the beejesus out of him-she was en exact replica of Janaki! The only thing which kept him from believing she was Janaki was her youthfulness. Had Janaki been alive, she would have been 55, while this young lady would be no more than 25. Apparently Gauri was a model who had been hired by the company Joseph worked for. Being a senior employee of the company, he had no trouble in establishing contact with her. For some eerie reason, he felt she could sympathize with him and he ended up pouring out his whole story to her, adding that she looked exactly like his only love, Janaki.
For the first time in three decades, Joseph started feeling that he could deliver justice to Janaki. Joseph began to hatch a plan slowly, but surely. But for the plan to succeed, he needed Gauri’s help. When he explained to Gauri what he planned to do, Gauri was convinced that this was a great opportunity for Joseph to get even. Joseph now had a new lease of life and a purpose to live for. The first step in the plan was to track Shambhu down-in case he was alive.
Tracking Shambhu down had been more difficult than Joseph had imagined. He had applied for a 10-day leave from his company (which they happily approved-after all, he had hardly taken a day-off in his career) and decided to start his mission. His first destination was obviously Chennai, where he checked with acquaintances (many of whom had forgotten him) about Shambhu Sambasivan’s whereabouts. After a lot of questioning , he found out that Shambhu had left Chennai some twenty years back and had settled as a convenience-store owner in Hyderabad. On reaching Hyderabad and questioning the right people (whose contacts he had acquired in Chennai), he found out that Mr. Sambasivan was highly respected in trade circles and often traveled all over India on business trips. He also learned that Mr. Sambasivan had settled in Pune since the past 5 years!!
For the last five years, this devil of a human being had been lurking in his own backyard and Joseph didn’t even know about it! But now that Shambhu was in Pune, Joseph experienced a hitherto unknown spurge of confidence. He knew the locality around him like the back of his hand and he now knew for sure how to extract revenge.
He learnt about the All India traders’ conference that was supposed to be held in the Town Hall in a couple of days. It was precisely this opportunity that Joseph had been looking for. However, for the plan to succeed, Gauri had to play her part perfectly well. It had all been arranged for: Joseph had explained the whole story to the cops and convinced them to attend the meeting in plainclothes so that they could nab Shambhu red handed. The prima facie evidence would be overwhelming. He himself had prepared to be present at the Town Hall to orchestrate the whole drama….
Finally the day arrived. Joseph couldn’t believe that this person was someone other than his own Janaki. The same angelic face, the same blemishless beauty…
When she approached Shambhu, he let out a loud shriek which at once filled the Hall with absolute silence. With a contorted face, he exploded,”How the hell can you be alive? I had smashed you to death with these very hands…..” The next thing he knew was persons in plainclothes arresting him with handcuffs. But his brain was far too disturbed to comprehend what was happening. He offered no resistance to the cops and they quickly rounded him up into their police van. The people in the hall were still shocked on seeing this whole episode. One can’t say Joseph was particularly delighted, but he now had a sense of immense satisfaction, something which he had never experienced for a long, long time now. All this had happened faster than he had imagined.
Just as he was leaving the Hall, Gauri came running inside and exclaimed, “I’m extremely sorry for being late. Hope he’s still in there.” “What are you talking about? You just did a perfect job of trapping that monster” said Joseph. “That’s impossible. I just came in now” replied Gauri…….
The Don
The young South African was alighting from the plane when he saw a frail, diminutive man who had apparently been waiting there to welcome him to the kangaroo-land.
“Hello”.
“Good evening. I welcome you to Australia.”
“So how’s everything out here?”
“Not bad. I hope your flight was comfortable”.
“Sure it was. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m retired now; but I used to play cricket for a living”.
“Oh, fantastic! What’s your good name?”
“They call me Don Bradman”…….
The above incident occurred when Bradman was well past his playing days and had been asked to welcome a prominent South African cricketer to Australia for playing a few benefit matches. Bradman, despite being the legend that he was, took this incident in his stride with a smile, when he ought to be offended; after all, he was the greatest batsman ever to have graced the cricket field!
I’m writing this article as a tribute to The Don. I’m not going to write line after line about his greatness. His extraordinary genius would soon outweigh the power of words and hence it is a futile exercise to try to portray his brilliance in words. I would rather like to narrate some of the true incidents of his life which are not only fascinating but also give a glimpse of his persona, his prowess.
When the young Donald Bradman from New South Wales started his career, he had begun to make waves in the domestic circuit of Australia almost as soon as he started his career. However, the purists scoffed at his rather unconventional way of holding the bat. But when the runs started flowing, people stopped talking about his grip.
Sometime in the nineteen sixties, Bradman was asked by a sports journalist as to how would he rate the contemporary bowlers; the journalist also asked him what his batting average would be. “Around 50”, replied Bradman. Startled, the journo asked him “Why only 50?” “Remember, I’m 60 now!” quipped Bradman. Although some may feel that this statement of his might border on the witty and the boastful, what can’t be missed is Bradman’s confidence in his abilities, so much so that he had a precise idea about how much he would average against a particular set of opponents, at a particular age. He was known to his teammates as a player who showed an extraordinary keenness in analyzing his batting and the various strategies set against him by the opponents. During the course of an innings at Blackheath, Bradman (aged 50, then) was at the crease when he casually asked the wicket-keeper, “What kind of a bowler is this chap?”. “Don’t you know him? He’s Bill Black, the off spinner who had dismissed you in an exhibition match a few weeks ago and has been boasting about it ever since, at your expense” replied the keeper. After a few minutes, this Bill Black was nursing an analysis of 2-0-62-0 and was begging his captain to take him off the bowling attack. Bradman had smacked him all over the place and ended up scoring a century in 3 overs in that match!
Neville Cardus was commonly regarded as the father of sports writing in the 1930s. His command over cricket was unquestionable and was highly regarded by the players themselves. In 1932 at Leeds, Australia had dismissed the English side for a paltry 200 but were reeling at 39-3 in reply. Bradman cancelled a dinner appointment with Cardus the same day, reasoning “I have to get a double hundred tomorrow and want to go to bed early to recharge my batteries and to refocus”.“But the law of averages is against you pulling off a big score tomorrow, Mr. Bradman!!” argued Cardus. To this, Bradman replied “I don’t belive in the law of averages. As for the appointment, I’m extremely sorry that I have to cancel it.” This left Bradman relieved and Cardus, fuming.
The next day of that Test match is now regarded as one of the most scintillating days of cricket ever played. Bradman scored 304 runs in a single day, one century in each of the sessions, resulting in total annihilation of the English bowlers. This goes to show how Bradman played his game-as if he had full and complete control over the fate of a match and his own batting.
In the late seventies Greg Chappell overcame Bradman’s tally of 6996 runs and thus became the most prolific Australian run-getter. When he was asked how he felt after beating Bradman’s record, Chappell retorted back, “To even think that one can surpass Sir Donald Bradman is a sacrilege.”
During his lifetime, Bradman never interacted much with the press and guarded his private life intensely. This perhaps enhanced his God-like image among cricket-lovers, feel observers. As a tribute to The Don, Mark Taylor, the Australian skipper declared the innings when he was batting at 334 against Pakistan. 334 happens to be Bradman’s highest test score and was, till recently (before Hayden decided to give Lara a run for his money) the highest score in an innings by an Australian.
Bradman’s statistics have been the subject of many a discussion over coffee tables all around the world. Sir Donald Bradman scored 6996 runs in 52 matches (80 innings), smashing 29 centuries along the way. On 12 occasions out of those 29, he crossed the 200-run mark, including his two triple centuries and an unlucky score of 299 not out (he had run out of partners)! His batting average has a near-philosophical interpretation. He averaged 99.94, unbelievably close to the magical figure of 100. More unbelievable is the fact that he got out for a duck in his last innings! Had he scored just 4 runs in his last innings, he would have not only touched the 100-run mark average, but would have also reached the then-phenomenal figure of 7000 test runs. The philosophical interpretation is this: however great a player may be, he can never be greater than the game itself (although many enthusiasts would love to make an exception in this case). They say cricket is a great leveler (like death itself) and the fact that Bradman was just 0.06 runs shy of the 3-digit mark is one of cricket’s many ironies. Eric Hollies holds the distinction (or notoriety?) of dismissing Bradman in his last Test innings.
“Hello”.
“Good evening. I welcome you to Australia.”
“So how’s everything out here?”
“Not bad. I hope your flight was comfortable”.
“Sure it was. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m retired now; but I used to play cricket for a living”.
“Oh, fantastic! What’s your good name?”
“They call me Don Bradman”…….
The above incident occurred when Bradman was well past his playing days and had been asked to welcome a prominent South African cricketer to Australia for playing a few benefit matches. Bradman, despite being the legend that he was, took this incident in his stride with a smile, when he ought to be offended; after all, he was the greatest batsman ever to have graced the cricket field!
I’m writing this article as a tribute to The Don. I’m not going to write line after line about his greatness. His extraordinary genius would soon outweigh the power of words and hence it is a futile exercise to try to portray his brilliance in words. I would rather like to narrate some of the true incidents of his life which are not only fascinating but also give a glimpse of his persona, his prowess.
When the young Donald Bradman from New South Wales started his career, he had begun to make waves in the domestic circuit of Australia almost as soon as he started his career. However, the purists scoffed at his rather unconventional way of holding the bat. But when the runs started flowing, people stopped talking about his grip.
Sometime in the nineteen sixties, Bradman was asked by a sports journalist as to how would he rate the contemporary bowlers; the journalist also asked him what his batting average would be. “Around 50”, replied Bradman. Startled, the journo asked him “Why only 50?” “Remember, I’m 60 now!” quipped Bradman. Although some may feel that this statement of his might border on the witty and the boastful, what can’t be missed is Bradman’s confidence in his abilities, so much so that he had a precise idea about how much he would average against a particular set of opponents, at a particular age. He was known to his teammates as a player who showed an extraordinary keenness in analyzing his batting and the various strategies set against him by the opponents. During the course of an innings at Blackheath, Bradman (aged 50, then) was at the crease when he casually asked the wicket-keeper, “What kind of a bowler is this chap?”. “Don’t you know him? He’s Bill Black, the off spinner who had dismissed you in an exhibition match a few weeks ago and has been boasting about it ever since, at your expense” replied the keeper. After a few minutes, this Bill Black was nursing an analysis of 2-0-62-0 and was begging his captain to take him off the bowling attack. Bradman had smacked him all over the place and ended up scoring a century in 3 overs in that match!
Neville Cardus was commonly regarded as the father of sports writing in the 1930s. His command over cricket was unquestionable and was highly regarded by the players themselves. In 1932 at Leeds, Australia had dismissed the English side for a paltry 200 but were reeling at 39-3 in reply. Bradman cancelled a dinner appointment with Cardus the same day, reasoning “I have to get a double hundred tomorrow and want to go to bed early to recharge my batteries and to refocus”.“But the law of averages is against you pulling off a big score tomorrow, Mr. Bradman!!” argued Cardus. To this, Bradman replied “I don’t belive in the law of averages. As for the appointment, I’m extremely sorry that I have to cancel it.” This left Bradman relieved and Cardus, fuming.
The next day of that Test match is now regarded as one of the most scintillating days of cricket ever played. Bradman scored 304 runs in a single day, one century in each of the sessions, resulting in total annihilation of the English bowlers. This goes to show how Bradman played his game-as if he had full and complete control over the fate of a match and his own batting.
In the late seventies Greg Chappell overcame Bradman’s tally of 6996 runs and thus became the most prolific Australian run-getter. When he was asked how he felt after beating Bradman’s record, Chappell retorted back, “To even think that one can surpass Sir Donald Bradman is a sacrilege.”
During his lifetime, Bradman never interacted much with the press and guarded his private life intensely. This perhaps enhanced his God-like image among cricket-lovers, feel observers. As a tribute to The Don, Mark Taylor, the Australian skipper declared the innings when he was batting at 334 against Pakistan. 334 happens to be Bradman’s highest test score and was, till recently (before Hayden decided to give Lara a run for his money) the highest score in an innings by an Australian.
Bradman’s statistics have been the subject of many a discussion over coffee tables all around the world. Sir Donald Bradman scored 6996 runs in 52 matches (80 innings), smashing 29 centuries along the way. On 12 occasions out of those 29, he crossed the 200-run mark, including his two triple centuries and an unlucky score of 299 not out (he had run out of partners)! His batting average has a near-philosophical interpretation. He averaged 99.94, unbelievably close to the magical figure of 100. More unbelievable is the fact that he got out for a duck in his last innings! Had he scored just 4 runs in his last innings, he would have not only touched the 100-run mark average, but would have also reached the then-phenomenal figure of 7000 test runs. The philosophical interpretation is this: however great a player may be, he can never be greater than the game itself (although many enthusiasts would love to make an exception in this case). They say cricket is a great leveler (like death itself) and the fact that Bradman was just 0.06 runs shy of the 3-digit mark is one of cricket’s many ironies. Eric Hollies holds the distinction (or notoriety?) of dismissing Bradman in his last Test innings.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)