( This piece was written based on my first-hand experience of working for an oil company for the Indian Express after the brutal murder of an IIM graduate, Manjunath Shanmughan in 2005. Years later, Yashwant Sonawane is burnt to death in Nashik in similar circumstances; so what has really changed) ?

I suffered from an acute childhood obsession, almost a quirky fetish; the love for petrol smell. It sent me into  a delirious zone , as it had a macho aroma about it and my nostrils invariably sniffed out the closest fuel dispensing outlet.  Small wonder then that my first career job was at a leading petroleum behemoth, and for a man for whom the scent of petroleum products  was preferable to the fragrance of  Denim ( the most sought after cologne in those days) the assignment  held unlimited potential for experiencing spiritual ecstasy while at work. . Or so I believed.

Twenty-one years later, as a professional young IIM talent and IOC executive lay brutally slaughtered by the oil mafia in the conundrum of crime, Uttar Pradesh , I almost lived a vicarious experience. Will there be another Manjunath Shanmughan  tomorrow , slain with methodical precision and in cold blood because he discovered the nefarious nocturnal activities of the vicious oil mob ?. And probably it’s entire diabolical network ?.  The answer, is a loud unambiguous, unequivocal—YES.

I was told that I had “ topped” the written examination cum interview in a strangely  hushed manner by a perpetually smiling secretary at the Head Office . I had thus earned the right to be treated like a blue eyed boy , as this was amongst the early recruitments being done by this public sector enterprise post-nationalisation.  This meant that amongst the 50 odd Management Trainees , I would be in the select coterie of candidates who could choose his functional discipline—Operations, Aviation or Sales. The interview which followed the post- training sessions was as brief as Sachin Tendulkar’s innings at the crease these days—- sales, it was. When I asked rather innocuously how could  I have a sales target when we were  advertising oil conservation and fuel saving , it was met with a contemptuous indifference reserved for a college upstart afflicted by a serious mental aberration. So off I went for my first professional posting to a regional office.

In those days post- nationalization , the oil companies senior management  staff had much snootiness , with many of them belonging to the upper strata of society  , fork and knife type with blue blood to boot, a  royal kinship and political lineage being added qualifications. St Stephen’s, Mayo and  Doon School ruled the roost in the Old Boy’s Club. The Divisional Manager ( who typically headed a region) was on the invitation list of society’s glitterati; after all, you needed his desperate intervention to get that coveted LPG connection for your newly married daughter. Even getting a refill cylinder ahead of the waiting list was like making a huge social statement.

My first serious assignment entailed being “ attached “ to a local Area Sales Officer ( who would narrate voluminous stories on the good ole days of the company’s historical multinational era) , and traveling into the rural interiors of Maharashtra in his personal  car . I noticed something inordinately  fishy every time we visited a retail outlet. The quarterly inspection we were supposed to conduct was to have a sudden surprise element; instead it had become traditional company practice to inform the dealer concerned before-hand .

As a young man of 21 yrs and six months in his first job , such business practices defied basic wisdom and practical common sense. It certainly was a real eye-opener. As I soon discovered , the Sales Officer was second to God Almighty himself, with the dealer genuflecting and gesticulating with feverish emotion his delight at seeing us all from the “ company”. Not surprisingly, the petrol pump would have immaculate house-keeping, the price charts were correctly displayed, the customer complaint book was filled with embarrassing exaggerated  adulation and the attendant staff stood  in creased uniform.

While the so-called inspection would be carried out amidst small glasses of masala chai and fried  samosas,   elaborate dinner plans would also be simultaneously conceived with meticulous detail. The dispensing pump staff would give the SO’s  ( the acronym for the Sales Officer) car a royal shampoo bath . But what really stunned me was the conspicuous comfort with which they would tank up the car .  I never ever saw the SO  pay cash or cheque , but he never failed to collect the three inch square petrol receipt. After all, one had to submit original vouchers for reimbursing expense claims. My induction training thus left me thoroughly nonplused, partially disillusioned and highly agitated. I longed to make an inspection tour all by myself. A month later , I got that elusive chance.

I was summoned to make my first independent inspection visit to a popular district which housed some established dealers on both the national highways as well as the bustling city. As I landed by the red and yellow MSRTC bus, I was flabbergasted  to see that there were two prominent dealers awaiting my arrival , hands folded and sporting a blatantly fake smile, reminiscent of airline crews. Clearly, they had already been advised of my peregrinations. I firmly refused breakfast and chai pani propositions in their palatial paradise of multiple floors, and got down to the dirty business of taking oil dip measurements.

Oil companies have a straightforward formula to calculate adulteration possibilities, and evaporation losses. I began to thoroughly enjoy doing the arithmetical  calculations , pursuing it with aggressive enthusiasm. The objective was to identify if the dealer had added subsidized kerosene into the petrol and or  high speed diesel tank to take advantage of price differential. Given their overall sales volumes, the potential for black money was astronomical. The results of my clinical investigations were disturbingly alarming; out of the seven pumps I had reviewed, five were disproportionately high in contamination , while two were moderately north of tolerance limits. In short, adulteration was the norm , not the exception.

I knew this was absolutely sensational stuff and demanded immediate suspension of all supplies pending laboratory tests of sampled fuel by the company. I felt like a Bollywood hero and a social crusader combined. . With a triumphant smile of the New Age Messiah,  scurrying around with cocky arrogance and breathless anticipation , I submitted my Tour Reports to the big boss. He picked them up and I deciphered an indistinct,  fleeting amusement, before a large frown descended on his countenance, which was soon supplanted by flushed cheeks, and I knew that he was not blushing. His rage was palpable.

As I sat there in nervous trepidation, I got my first lesson in business principles: “ I like your enthusiasm and spirit; unfortunately, they are misplaced. It is obvious that you lack practical business experience. Do you know the repercussions of your bizarre reports ? .It could lead to our retail outlets losing sales, while our competitors thrive. And we will be the only buffoons trying to make an example of our own fraternity while competing outlets will prosper unhindered, as their sales teams will protect and promote their business goals. Do you think it is fair? You are in sales, and choking supplies is not part of your performance review, young man.  Learn to build relationships, develop a  spirit of accommodation and give and take”. Mark McCormack was bingo;  there are some things  you can never learn in  a business school.

Enlightened and educated in pragmatic business norms and appropriately chastised for being too methodical, I went as part of a fact-finding team for selecting new dealers in a backward district. An overnight trip was warranted. The most promising candidate,  who was incidentally politically well connected , boasted pompously that he had already pocketed the allotment. It was to later come true. Joint inspections with other oil companies were such a theatrical farce, you could have christened them as a Bombay theatre slapstick comedy, “ You scratch my back, and I will scratch yours ”. LPG, Kerosene, MS/HSD, and even special oils and bulk sales, everywhere in the  trade the underlying story had the same dubious  concurrent theme across all product lines. . And inspection reports became just another document for claiming cash reimbursements—they were a  meaningless paper exercise..

The blue- eyed boy  had the unique distinction of not being confirmed in his job, ostensibly because I was an “ unenthusiastic traveler ”. I resigned a few months later, just shy of completing two years, to pursue an MBA. Manjunath Shanmughan  joined IOC after his IIM, Lucknow.

I have since moved on and worked in foreign banks, asset management, financial services,  management  consulting and Internet business and experienced extraordinary changes and incredible happenings. . Twenty-one years later, oil companies are the biggest consumers of advertising budgets on TV networks, and sponsor cricket tournaments , entertainment events and Formula 1 race drivers. Marketing whiz-kids talk of the end of commodity positioning and the rise of  product branding in the petroleum sector . Mani Shankar Aiyer is working assiduously to lay transnational pipelines and negotiate oil barrel price deals for India . And the oil price news affects the Sensex with cataclysmic effect.  But as Manjunath’s  death tells us all, deep down inside nothing has changed. Nothing.

Now that the initial hullabaloo over Gautam Gambhir’s financial windfall has subsided,  the whereabouts unknown character Daniel Trevor Christian has been actually identified after his dollar signs were made public, and after witnessing some acerbic exchanges between otherwise apparently civil franchise owners, we need to take a quick reality-check on some ticklish aspects of IPL 4 auctions that have either commanded vuvuzela-kind attention or been cursorily overlooked.

1.      First, that expected sentimental outburst over Sourav Ganguly’s exclusion, deemed by some over-stretched minds as a nocturnal “ conspiracy”. Come on, folks, aren’t we “exaggerating an hyperbole” here? I am not going to waste precious time on eulogizing Sourav’s greatness, that is an unquestionable reality and yours truly has been one of his most vociferous supporters . So why then was the Prince so uncharitably dumped by all, including his own home brethren? The answer is simple; firstly, IPL is a business model that requires constant reinvention; it is also bloody brutal. Ask Charu Sharma, Mohammed Kaif and Rahul Dravid. Secondly, KKR seems to have gone for a total overhaul, and you cannot blame them given their abysmal  track-record. They are fully entitled to their own management theories and eureka experiences.Thirdly, Ganguly has a formidable persona, a cricketer who has not just been high-impact, but also egregiously controversial and frequently Anti-establishment. I think the franchise owners perhaps  felt that “ managing Ganguly” itself would consume approximately half of their time investment. Fourthly, the ridiculous “ player – price benchmarking”. But that’s the next point

2.      How come everyone missed out on the most grotesque positioning of players on their celebrated “ base price”? Frankly, take two obvious examples based on current availability, recent international playing experience, age, etc; you have Brian Lara ( 41 and long-retired) , Sourav Ganguly ( 38 and retired ) in the USD 400,000 bracket, while Gautam Gambhir and Robin Uthappa are in the USD 200,000 catgeory? Doesn’t that appear atrocious? Even Zaheer Khan, Kumar Sangakarra, Michael Hussey are in a lower base. There are other glaring mismatches between players-price in the various categories, and that is why it resulted in price distortions. It is as simple as that; its business, as Michael Corleone, would say, its nothing personal.

3.      It was the task of the IPL Governing Council to have done some basic player research ( they have a surfeit of resources) , and then using some degree of prudent wisdom slotted players based on their perceived attractiveness. The purpose of an auction is to ensure that every bracketed player gets his best price. The most flagrant fallacy was to give the player the right to choose his price band— that is preposterous. Naturally, egos came tumbling in, and Ganguly enhanced his base price from USD 200,000 to the higher USD 400,000 bracket. But as it happened in several cases, if Ganguly’s bidding had commenced at USD 200K you never know how high the price war could have escalated from that lower level.

4.      Wasn’t IPL supposed to be about creating these local fan clubs and raging city-centric community affiliations? Well frankly, all that has come to a sorry naught. While the KKR team maybe justified in doing a drastic purge, they are left with not a single player with whom there is any nostalgic attachment, a shred of memory or some native bonding. The same applies to almost all  teams, other than CSK and  Mumbai Indians. A three-year investment in building a local franchise has frankly been a complete wash-out. I therefore see the frantic rush for these uncapped players from predetermined catchment areas being the only “connect” that owners can create to the local fans.

5.      The “player retention “ clause is , of course, pregnant with imperfections. Take Mumbai Indians, for example. They have decided to retain Sachin Tendulkar, Harbhajan Singh, Kieron Pollard and Lasith Malinga. Now as per their graded pay-outs, Sachin gets USD 1.8 mln, Bhajji ( USD 1.3 mln) , Pollard ( USD 900,000) and Malinga ( USD 400 K). Rest assured, given the exponential boom in player valuations, they will want more. Logically, they deserve it too. What would have been their market price based on free market forces of demand and supply? Now Mr Vijay Mallya tells us that franchise owners are not bound by the USD 9 million cap if they negotiate private cash deals; isn’t that an unfair business practise as it aggregates higher than those of other franchise owners?

So what ought to be the solution? There are two options: firstly, the arrangement can provide a minimum guarantee ( MG) to the retained player. Secondly, the Franchise owner can alternatively offer matching compensation of the highest traded player in the auction to the corresponding retained player. For instance, Tendulkar, Dhoni and Sehwag  should get what is Gambhir’s final price. The same formula will apply to the remaining retained players in proportion to the highest paid player in their team.

On the flip side, please also remember that the retention clause is a comfort clause where the Franchise owner guarantees that MG amount irrespective of auction status. For instance, if the highest traded player Gambhir was sold for just USD 1.5 mln, Sachin etc would still earn USD 1.8 mln. Ideally, the option of choosing either of the two options should be given to the players. That would be transparent and would work flawlessly for the benefit of all stakeholders. Also, it is absolutely imperative that the commercial earnings of ALL players MUST be in the PUBLIC DOMAIN.

6.      IPL can only succeed in the long-run if there is great local passion for franchise players other than thronging stadiums for a three-hour summer picnic outing. To ensure that  at least after this IPL 4 auction  there are no further complete team overhauls ( like KKR, Kings XI Punjab, Deccan Chargers etc ) , the “ trading window” of players must be made open with immediate effect and kept open on an ongoing basis other than during the tournament . For buy and sell deals, there are no seasons . Thus, teams that want to still reconstitute their teams can make an open offer to another franchise on a negotiated deal which should be announced publicly. This will make sure that a core team remains consistent and long-standing and increase local spectator and city-participation.

7.      Like the failed fan club ob-jective, IPL has been a complete disaster from the big “ globalization” spiel. It has an unfair and skewed representation, with countries like Bangladesh, Zimbabwe, Pakistan ( for obvious reasons ), West Indies and England finding minimal representation. You can forget the minnow nations altogether. Bottomline, as I had written earlier, the only way that IPL can become a global brand is when all international boards have a financial stake/ cost  in proportion to their player representation, there are no limitations on foreign players, no salary caps on players and IPL is part of ICC’s FTP ( Future Tours Program) which guarantees “ availability”, the latter being the principal reason why foreign players saw an unreasonably low price. Currently, IPL is a case of I want to have the cake and eat it too.

8.      Tell me , has our ODI team or our Test team, in particular, really changed dramatically over the years? Thus, is it fair to really put fixed salaries for uncapped players, when for many the IPL could actually be the much-needed commercial bonanza for a professional career who may never see a blue cap? Manish Pandey, A Rayudu, Dhaval Kulkarni, Swapnil Asnodkar all deserve a better deal than that USD 60 K being currently offered as a fixed salary. Let the franchise owner take the risk of a higher payment to them.

9.      Lastly, we are finally seeing what was initially feared by some of us perennial cynics, the rise of the new “ IPL T 20 player”. The ideal example is players like Robin Uthappa, Irfan Pathan, Rohit Sharma,  Saurabh Tiwary and Ravinder Jadeja. It does not matter whether they represent India officially in the future or not , they have carved a distinct niche for themselves in IPL which makes them a commercially viable proposition. In a sense, if that makes some of them our  “ summer superstars” only, we should be ready to understand its long-term repercussions. The abject rout of New Zealand against Pakistan in the just concluded Test match might just be the early warning bells.

IPL, ladies and gentlemen, only talks in “money-syllables”.

If he was to maintain the legendary Don Bradman’s career-closing average of 99. 94 , then by the end of the Centurion Park Test match against South Africa the great Sachin Tendulkar should have scored 28,582 Test runs. Let me repeat, 28, 582 . A rather tall task, you will concede. Even if the expected counter-argument is articulated that Bradman’s own average would have at least somewhat bottomed out in the December of his career , and is reluctantly accepted ( especially given the towering, ageing Tendulkar’s (37) extraordinary flourish in 2009-10), you can still well imagine the colossal challenge of reaching that near- insurmountable feat. In a way, that simple fact encapsulates the precipitous pits and snake-chambers we encounter when comparing Don Bradman and Sachin Tendulkar. Comparisons aren’t just odious here , they are self-destructive, suicidal.

Bradman averages an astonishing century every 2.76 innings compared to Tendulkar’s 5.75. By Bradman’s mind-boggling yardstick and hundred-hit rate by now Sachin should have scored 103 centuries ! Even remotely possible? Once again, a hard cold statistical interplay. Those who are screaming hoarse of Sachin’s ODI records are comparing apples with apricots as it is frankly totally irrelevant; our only fair barometer is the five-day Test match cricket. I am deliberately making this particular analysis a cruel steel-gray numbers game, because it is that alone which has propelled this enthusiastic discourse on who is the “ real” greatest? Such mathematical permutations usually overlooks the trauma of the Great global depression, social insecurity , rising joblessness and overall national despair that Bradman encountered. Or the billion nervous hearts that constantly prays for a miraculous turnaround from the same square shoulders , time after time after time, that Tendulkar experiences. Some things are too nebulous to be measurable.

Those who have ridiculed Bradman’s mammoth achievements as being mostly accomplished against England alone make an outrageous error which can be excused charitably as “grossly amateurish” , as it understates his wondrous achievements. England and Australia dominated cricket like perhaps Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal rule tennis today. Actually, Bradman was being repeatedly tested against his tallest peers, no namby-pamby minnows awaiting a sacrificial slaughter ! His awesome averages in the few Tests that he played against India and South Africa are testimony to what was his unexploited skills on different continents against weaker adversaries . Had he perhaps played against relatively phlegmatic teams, the record books would have been further pulverized in a bloody- red. That 72% of his runs ( 5028 ) were scored against England , then competing with Australia for world-supremacy actually is a manifestation of his impeccable mastery over difficult and determined opponents, and as it turned out to be , dangerous rivals. Enter Bodyline!

The highly explosive , controversial Bodyline series besides its planned brutality with the red cherry was a symbolic reflection of the destructive disposition of one doughty man, the impact of a solitary individual , one almost-infallible batsman on the fortune of the entire Ashes series itself, a bitter and intense rivalry across continents. Cricket has rarely witnessed such comprehensive, thorough dominance of a single player on match results like Bradman. Douglas Jardine and Harold Larwood may have led a successful body assault, but the man was to hit back later. Vivian Richards, Gary Sobers, Adam Gilchrist, Sachin, Shane Warne and Virender Sehwag are amongst those dreaded annihilators who have caused many a sleepless nights in opposition beds in similar vein. But Bradman was in a league beyond definition. Description. Debate.

Sachin Tendulkar is indisputably the world’s most outstanding batsman-cricketer of the post-war era.. Besides his unquestionable masterful brilliance and remarkable unflagging focus, his sheer physical endurance and mental strength over two decades of frenzied public and media scrutiny makes Tendulkar our rock of Gibraltar, an insuperable spirit, a deep moving inspiration to a billion hopefuls. Statistics can never appreciate some human intangibles. When Tendulkar leaves cricket, that is the day “ other sports” in India will really get a sneaking opportunity to grab those elusive eyeballs.

To understand Bradman’s greatness, however, , it is germane to compare two 5ft 7” Australians who by an uncanny coincidence suffered a similar predicament during the heydays of their career. First, Rod Laver . In 1962, Laver made his first true-blue sweep of all four Grand Slam tournaments. For the next seven years, Laver did not get an opportunity of official recognition of title ownership and his personal greatness till the tennis administrators granted the game a professional status in 1969. Seven long years indeed! Laver returned in 1969 to recapture that unique distinction of his impregnable authority on all four Grand Slams all over again in one of modern sport’s greatest unmatched accomplishments by far. Despite winning a record 16 Grand Slams Roger Federer has still to achieve a single Grand Slam , and in all probability, now may not ever be able to do so. What then could have been Laver’s total tally if all those “lost” years were counted where his overwhelming suzerainty , in fact, was strongly entrenched in the playing circuit between 1962-69 ? Of the 28 Grand Slam tournaments that he missed, he could have on a conservative estimate won 14 of them. Thus, his final tally could have been around 25 Grand Slam titles! So who is the GOAT? Federer or Laver? It’s the same principle which applies to the two great Dons of cricket as well. Let us see why.

Comparisons do make for fantastic readable copy, and has the salutary impact of forcing some unfortunately infrequent but interesting revelations. In comparing the two mighty titans, most analysts and of-course our own die-hard patriotic brigade have overlooked the crucial factor, or at best have just deliberately given it a cursory mention ; Don Bradman , like Laver , did not play his favorite international competitive sport for a staggering seven years ,and that too in the prime of his professional career . The unplanned extended break was on account of the evil global designs and insatiable military ambitions of a certain Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler. The World War II resulted in a forced hiatus that rudely interrupted what looked like a solitary man’s unstoppable triumphant conquest and cricket’s domination. . It is for you to contemplate what possibly could have been Bradman’s accumulated treasure-chest of runs if the world was not plunged in international conflict.

Like Laver, after seven years of unavoidable isolation Bradman returned at the end of World War II to lead a team called The Invincibles to a 4-0 whitewash of England in what is considered an epic team on a mission. His own brilliant performance during that period are what makes for nostalgic story-telling in the haloed corridors of the game’s history. What would have been Bradman’s untested heroics had the world been politically serene during those 2400 odd days ? We can safely conjecture that the man would have plundered abundant riches from his numerous peregrinations to different cricket grounds. I leave the numbers speculation to you.

The answer to who is the greatest between Sachin and Bradman lies in those 7 lost years. And those 28, 582 runs. After Bradman, the debate should only be about who is the second greatest. And that without an iota of doubt is the incredible Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

I rest my case.

Happy New Year!

( Written in November 2009 )

In 1989, I was 28 years. Since then, to use a cliché, change has been a constant. I remember Rajiv Gandhi’s dimpled smile and earth innocence in his handsome countenance. LK Advani’s rath-yatra and VP Singh’s caste card was to change India’ political future and electoral logic. Manmohan Singh’s breakthrough liberalization policy and partial devaluation would bring India into the global sphere, even as we watched Jimmy Connors make a dramatic run to the semi-fi nals of the US Open at the age of 39 on Star Sports, on a satellite channel. Dr Prannoy Roy dazzling us with The World This Week and Newstrack with Madhoo Trehan. Aamir Khan play the charming tapori act in Rangeela and Shah Rukh Khan winning a near-billion hearts with his inimitable romanticism in DDLJ. Mahesh Bhupathi and Leander Paes capturing grand slams. Harshad Mehta and Ketan Parekh, stock market booms and woeful scams. Kargil. A war. A nuclear test. Malls, multiplexes, mobile phones and MS Dhoni. Marathi manoos and Abhinav Bindra. A new India. A new tomorrow.

But somewhere quietly right behind them all, rising unobtrusively into the endless skyline above, towering away and beyond into the blue skies, that same young curly haired boy from Bandra. Sachin Tendulkar. Nothing else.

I have updated some of my earlier issues from my book ELEVEN with some relevant and contemporary  new material .

1. At the peak of the IPL Kochi drama that led to Congress MP Shashi Tharoor’s resignation from the Union Cabinet,  Shailendra Gaikwad made a sensational claim on national television that Lalit Modi had made an offer of USD 50 million pay-off to withdraw his franchise proposal.  Why did no one follow-up to verify that grave allegation? If true, it smacked of a massive black-money transaction ( who can create unaccounted cash of Rs 200 crores overnight) ? If not true, why didn’t Modi sue him legally for defamation as he had promised?

2. How come in the first round of IPL 2008  “ auctions” the large corporate owners conveniently if not  almost miraculously got the franchise of their choice and at their personal location unless it was a pre-decided allocation?  Mumbai ( Mukesh Ambani),  Banglaore ( Vijay Mallya) , Chennai ( N Srinivasan), Delhi ( GMR), Hyderabad ( Deccan Chronicle) ???? Transparency indeed??? We all fell for it hook, line and sinker.

3. It was rumored that the real reason why Lalit Modi tweeted about Tharoor was the latter’s refusal to cancel a visa request at the behest of Modi from a popular fashion model  from South Africa called Gabriella Demetriades . Why did Modi want her visa cancelled anyway ? Shouldn’t that have been thoroughly probed as it sounds bizarre and perhaps unwittingly led to the expose of the great IPL scam?

4. The media went berserk when news broke out about former BCCI head, current ICC boss and India’s Agriculture Minister Sharad Pawar’s equity stake in one firm, a  bidder for the Pune IPL franchise. Understandable ! But what no one  asked further is what was Pawar doing holding a financial stake in a realty-entity called City Corporation  running large real estate projects ? Given the fact that land deals and political involvement has been the special dessert of the year, was not that a logical next course of inquisition?

5. Let me keep this simple: was our dear endearing hot-head, the maverick cheek-slapping Harbhajan Singh really speaking the truth in that great Monkeygate affair?  Did Sachin Tendulkar simply play ball to prevent a serious racial conflict?  Was the entire hearing essentially a sham , with BCCI’s cash-muscle finally deciding the verdict?  Did it suit the Indian media to go on a jingoistic nationalistic call for quick gains? One day, a retired Aussie cricketer might just spill the beans on that one. Be prepared.

6. When news leaked about “ player fixing” by N Srinivasan of BCCI , in a surprisingly intimate exchange of e-mails with his nemesis Modi, the first response was “ who leaked it?”. In which case, their authenticity was not being initially challenged. Later, of course, a whole contingent of Srinivasan’s team called it “ fabricated”.  But what is the real truth ?  Till today, no one knows. Again, why has Srinivasan not sued Modi for serious defamation as this ought to have been the case ?

7. In 1982, Dilip Vengsarkar was humiliated at Dubai airport and deported in ignominious fashion for raising a valid objection to the way the Indian cricketers were treated.  Why didn’t the Indian players stand up for him? Did that incident create a permanent breach between Gavaskar and  the Colonel?  Whatever happened to the great national solidarity especially on foreign soil? No one ever raises this lamentable episode which smacks of pathetic team standards.

8. Barring a fleeting reference to the rumored Sourav Ganguly-Naghma affair , the Indian media has treated the Indian cricketers as paragons of enlightening  virtue, possessing a virginal spotless character. Everything is bereft of any innuendo to nocturnal whereabouts and  some discreet fun by the side. But is that really true, or is that the typical “ we will not write about their personal lives” flaky principle? Then why waste reams of newsprint on Tiger Wood’s 18th conquest?  Double-standards!  And does that not give a free license to our impressionable cricketers to run wild at IPL parties?  Then are we justified in thereafter rebuking them for their errant ways?  I am not so sure.

9. Who actually did leak that famous Greg Chappell e-mail on Sourav Ganguly that was to unleash cricket’s darkest days and split Rahul Dravid and his former captain? Apparently, it was a journalist “ close “ to Chappell.  Many names were fervently speculated on , but the matter was allowed to quietly wither away.  Have we not encouraged the veiled secrecy of duplicitous sources who besides their “by-lines” have no real love for Indian cricket?

10. At the peak of the IPL 3 hype , Kings XI Punjab announced that  they would be off-loading their full stake? Whew!  Given the fact that everyone was raving mad about increasing IPL valuations, what prompted the Mohali owners to make for such a rapid exit despite getting  a windfall gain? Wouldn’t they make a bigger haul for an extended ownership of the franchise? Did they know something that the others did not?  Remember, Modi’s relatives have a direct interest in the venture.

11.  Why did Sunil Gavaskar take 60 overs to score 36 runs in a World Cup one-day match? Surely, there was a compelling reason behind the true blue inheritor of ‘strokeless wonder’ (sorry Navjot Singh Sidhu)?  We still do not have the “ real “ answers.

12. What really happened in a hotel in Sri Lanka where Manoj Prabhakar allegedly received a Rs 25 lakhs verbal offer for match-fixing from Kapil Dev? While the case has since been closed, the mystery still lurks insidiously behind us. What prompted Mr IS Bindra to make that accusation public? Mysterious !

13. Why did Kapil Dev advise Sachin Tendulkar to not enforce the follow-on in the Ahmedabad Test against New Zealand when it seemed like a foregone conclusion that NZ would almost certainly crumble. Worse, India batted a second time, scored at an unhurried, leisurely pace (even J Srinath got an opportunity to bat), and a completely stunned Stephen Fleming could not believe his luck as NZ crawled to a safe draw.

14. What really provoked Navjot Singh Sidhu to overnight abandon the Indian team and return to India from the tour of England? Was it just a practical joke that boomeranged or was something brewing on for some time which finally exploded? Even today, no one knows.

15. Why did Rahul Dravid declare the Indian innings against Pakistan in Multan, Pakistan with Sachin Tendulkar stranded on 194? Considering these guys spend more time with each other than their wives, and a quick notice could always have been sent to the Little Master on the ground, what really precipitated such a hasty action? It was clearly something intriguing! Especially, as it led to Tendulkar for the first time in his career taking his personal angst into the public arena. Or was Sourav Ganguly calling the shots from the background?

16. When the World Cup 2003 Indian squad was announced, the Indians were being annihilated on the bouncy tracks of New Zealand in a most forgettable series. One man’s omission from the squad bound for South Africa stood out, VVS Laxman. Strangely, none of his illustrious colleagues even bothered to communicate with the man and Laxman was left to discover his bad fortune and handle his personal dejection all by himself. Very very strange! And to believe this man had made a heroic 281 runs in the Kolkata Test against the Australians not so long ago. Just why are our senior players so tight-lipped about their own fellow team-mates? Till today VVS nurses a deep anguish about that shoddy treatment from his more celebrated seniors.

17. Was the Nagpur Test match of 2004 deliberately given to the Australians on a golden platter , as a result of bitter warring factions in the BCCI battle-fields?  Sourav Ganguly dropped out , and a lively bouncy green-top that served as Perth’s second cousin ensured India’s rout and the collapse of the Final Frontier. The head honcho of the local association at Nagpur is now President of BCCI—-Shashank Manohar. So did India’s officials engineer the country’s defeat for petty political reasons? Did we flagrantly “ fix” our own fortunes?

18. Is it true that Tendulkar vowed to finish Nayan Mongia’s career for playing a ridiculous shot and getting out when chasing Pakistan’s target in the famous Chepauk Test at Chennai? Rumors were rife that Sachin wept inconsolably and never forgave Mongia for that indiscretion. His writ on dumping Mongia apparently ran large. Mongia quietly disappeared from the scene soon thereafter.

19. Abhijit Kale apologized for making allegations of bribery against the national selectors, and the BCCI condescendingly forgave him. But what exactly transpired? Kale’s aspirations of playing international cricket were permanently frozen, but the speculation on that event is still fluid. Why was a full-scale enquiry never done and disclosed publicly?

20. What made Manoj Prabhakar and Nayan Mongia crawl towards a target (apparently, the team management just advised them to come “close to the target”) in the 1994 one day match in Kanpur, which was a blatant mockery of the game? In fact, it led to their suspension from the next match for ‘slow batting’. Now what do you make of that?

We fight with impeccable ferocity over Kashmir. Our Foreign Ministers squabble amidst international spotlight. We often impertinently reject Pak-born visas, while Islamabad repeatedly snuggles into the cosy arms of our perpetual adversary China. Our Independence Day is celebrated within 24 hours of each other. Once we lived in a large undivided mass of land , in fact, the river from where our 63 year old country gets its name is in our neighbor’s  heartland. In the cacophonous streets of Manhattan it is difficult to know if the yellow cab-driver is from Peshawar or Patna and the same blurred line emerges when we look at the unbridled passionate love our respective countries share for their fanatical obsession; cricket. And as it once gain transpires with  remorseless stranglehold, we share the same ravenous appetite for even match-fixing.

As the entire world , most rightfully, trashes the sordid slush money changing hands over the latest work-in-progress novelty “ spot-fixing” the most tragic sight is that of Mohammad Amir, a strapping young lad who made a delicious mincemeat of seasoned Australian players and had the in-form hosts England reeling under his lethal spell, literally. A strange emotion actually enveloped me; Amir is actually as old as my eldest daughter despite the fact that the television screen deceptively magnifies the raw true-self. . All of 19 years, and despite being at the mature peak of teenage-hood , hugely precocious, largely inexperienced, and essentially innocent . But most importantly, always benefiting from positive guidance and continuous encouragement.  I know the sheer exhilaration on her face when she is allowed an extended hour of late-night partying with her close friends; those are times I at least momentarily feel like the world’s greatest father. Who mentored Amir, certainly not the Pakistan Cricket Board? I wonder how Amir’s parents must be feeling though seeing their youngest son’s face around a donkey’s neck , as also, his other six elder siblings without a downtown address. There is nothing sadder than the death of a sportsman at the prime of his career. And life.

Frankly, we are all spot-on in our clairvoyant statements; “ We saw it coming. Since 1994 Pakistan has ensured a staple high-fibre diet of match-fixing allegations”. Actually, perhaps barring Imran Khan and Rameez Raja and a few others, almost everyone has featured in that illustrious list including the likes of the peripatetic Wasim Akram.

President Asaf Ali Zardari may yet attribute the responsibility to non-state actors.

Young Amir’s life has been dramatically transformed forever in a wad of pound sterling notes being counted with rapacious glee in front of surreptitious cameras and a no-ball.  A miss is as good as a mile, they say.  This was  one long foot over the crease.

It seems almost laughable that one of the most brilliant charismatic skippers of his time, Hansie Cronje actually tossed his professional career  away for a paltry USD 10,000 exactly a decade ago.. The astronomical exponential growth in match fixing size reflects clearly a buoyant mafia community. And they are getting increasingly innovative. And ambitious.

Incidentally, an interesting item of great import has been rendered inconspicuous in today’s papers in the light of the celebrated Mazhar Majeed’s heroic achievements ; MS Dhoni, India’s Rs 210 crore skipper is engaged in a bitter legal tussle with his former sports agents, involving serious criminal action. Now does that ring a loud bell, or what? In the 1970’s India was obsessed about the insidious “ foreign hand”. Now the Indian hand has become a dreaded Dark Lord in the current expose as well.

There are two instant remedies I suggest to immediately stem the rot: firstly, all international cricket boards must make it mandatory that cricket players can only sign up with accredited agents with the local Boards, who pass a stringent due diligence test for qualification, which should be annually renewed after performance reviews. Currently, almost anyone can easily access young vulnerable players, and in the post-IPL age of impressionable minds, anything is possible.

Second, match fixing can be best detected by the cricket players themselves, as besides the continuous proximity from the dressing room to the team hotel, they are blessed with a sixth sense , an instinctive, intuitive prescience of things if they appear a wee bit hazy. Thus, cricket boards need to encourage whistle-blowers to raise the red flag when suspecting anything remotely unusual.  Surely, the remaining Pakistani players would have somewhere known that there was something inherently slippery going on . As I believe did the colleagues of Mohammad Azharuddin and Ajay Jadeja once.

The undeniable truth is that like Pakistan ( 139)  we are ranked as one of the most corrupt nations in the world ( 85) , with over USD 500 billion stashed away in Swiss banks, which has a miraculous accounting reconciliation with the estimated size of our parallel economy of the same magnitude. Voila!

And of course our own little garbage dump of a stinking backyard; the IPL mess. As the new ICC President Sharad Pawar gets on to clear the rising scum and the setting sun of the failed London Dreams , he may also consider the 50,000 MT of food-grains wasting away. Some problems are better fixed, I suppose.

Pakistan is paying the price for having comparatively too little money. And as the IPL scam has established, India for having perhaps too much.

The BCCI passed a unanimous resolution that it would henceforth compensate IPL commentators directly for their professional services. Naturally, the select panel of chosen veterans was as thrilled as the bubbly bimbos queuing up to serenade Rahul Mahajan. But with the erstwhile IPL Commissioner now under permanent exile , the BCCI big guns were prodigiously anxious; how would they ensure sponsor satisfaction of 10 on a 5 point scale? Thus, the same secret luxury resort on a beach-front  where discreet rendezvous of BCCI/IPL Governing Council is frequently held was chosen as the sacred venue. Unfortunately, yours truly was also there with a high-tech mobile gadget soon to be launched called Karbon-Copy which could read anyone’s lips from a distance of 50 m, even better than George Bush Part I. Hence, the extraordinary script that follows.

This is an EXCLUSIVE  SCOOP :

Shashank Manohar ( SM) :  Thank you Arun ( Lal) , Ravi ( Shastri )  and Sunil ( Gavaskar) for coming here for this urgent crisis management meeting. And you Srini ( A Srinivasan) and Ratna ( Prof Ratnakar Shetty) .

Prof Ratnakar Shetty was not visibly amused as for some reason he felt  like Naseeruddin Shah’s endearing wife , but he kept diplomatically mum. Sunil Gavaskar (SG)  did not.

SG: In terms of seniority and achievement , you should call my name first.

Arun Lal ( AL) and Ravi Shastri (RS)  at the same time: And me  next!

A Srinivasan (AS) : Shut up, you egotistical ex-cricketers ! You are now on our pay-roll, and now we will drive the agenda. You do as you are told to do, irrespective of your brand preferences. Am I clear?

AL, RS and SG : Brand preferences?

AS: : Enlighten them, Ratna . The purpose of this meeting is to be fully prepared for our new project—SPONSOR SATISFACTION: 100 per cent GUARANTEED  which comes into effect from the Champions League in South Africa next month. What Modi can do, we will do better. Get it???

PROF RS : Ok, I am giving  you the list of all our listed sponsors. You will huddle up in the attic above the kitchen-sink to avoid creepy media cameras seemingly  lurking around , and come up with your creative, innovative and magical interpretation of how we can maximize valuations of these brand sponsors.

He gave them each a sealed and signed envelope .

SM: We reassemble in exactly 15 minutes, as time is short and we suspect a sting operation. We want your genius at play or else you can still be disbanded or your salaries halved. Am I clear?

SG, AL and RS climbed the concealed staircase behind a large portrait of Sharad Pawar transported especially for the occasion.

Exactly 14 minutes and 32 seconds later, they returned,  arm-in-arm singing  a collective chorus as they did the salsa to “ We are Family”……..

SM: What the hell is that?

SG: Sir Ji, this is a popular song that will play before every match and we commentators will dance on the field. And we will get Karan Johar to direct it, and also sponsor it as it is his forthcoming film also . What an Idea, Sir Ji? Brought to you by Kara————–?????

SM/AS: Kya IDEA hai ! Brilliant! Magnificent! Excellent! Bravo!

Prof RS : Who is this Karan Joker?

Everyone ignored him.

SM /AS : Go ahead ! Go ahead! We are so excited. We can’t wait. Now we will teach Modi some marketing.

SG: First, everytime Sachin Tendulkar shuffles at the crease, it will be an Itch-Guard Moment.

Clap ! Clap!

RS: Sir, and as far as Rahul Dravid is considered, if he gets bowled while executing a classical Biblical flawless straight drive, we will get in Sahara:  We chase Quality, Quantity Chases Us.

Manohar did not seem too pleased with that, but did not say a word.

AL: Sir, and when catches are dropped, they will be brought to you by LIC; zindagi ke saath bhi, zindagi ke baad bhi.

Srinivsan seemed so tickled with that, he instantly rolled off the floor. He was lifted up by the stewards.

SG :  And Sir , Videocon will come in everytime there is a fall of a wicket. Experience Change, by Videocon.

RS ( looking passionately excited) : And if Katrina, Deepika, Priyanka, Vidya, Bipasha, Kareeena, Kangana………….

SM: Will you please stop reading out the list of Bollywood heroines and tell me what you are going to tell me, Ravi?

RS ( unable to control himself) : Well Sir, everytime Katrina, Deepika, Priyanka, Vidya, Bipasha, Kareena, Kangna……..

Srinivasan had begun tearing Manohar’s hair in frustration.

AL ( interrupting RS) : Well Sir everytime these heroines come on camera, that will be Hero Honda’s Desh ki Dhadkan .

In the meantime,  Shastri tried to contain his palpitation.

SM( in deep introspection) : Good idea, but  don’t you think we should give it to Pepsi for Yeh dil maange more?

Everyone was very impressed.

AS: You are becoming a  copy-writer , Shash.

There was pin-drop silence. Everyone exchanged glances. And Manohar looked very pleased with himself.

SG: Sir,  Yuvraj Singh will be brought to you by Kingfisher, Prince of Good Times for pint sized beer bottles only, that way we won’t impact King Mallya.

AL: And everytime Ashish Nehra spits on the ground for no apparent reason it will be a Listerine Moment; it is dynamite against germs crawling on the grass.

RS: And MS Dhoni’s inexplicable audacious non-text book batting shot will be an Audi Shot: Vorsprung Durch Technik, nobody will understand it only.

AS: Clever! Very clever! Very clever indeed! Even MSD will love that mumbo-jumbo.

SG: Our tail-enders rearguard action will be from Maruti : You can at least Count on Us. .

SG: Even we will get sponsored, Sir, the whole commentary team. After all, we change public opinion more than the actual game, Sir with our comments. Well, that will be by Amul .

SM: Amul? Ice cream? Are you guys seen as sweet and cold?

RS: No Sir Ji, Amul Macho inner-wear.

SG: Our expert summaries will conclude with , Yeh to bada toing hai.

AS and SM cleared their throats.

RS: We have even thought of roping in Toyota by giving them coverage when Sidharth Mallya will appear with Ms Deepika Padukone on the balconies with a confused expression. It will be a Toyota moment, Designed to inspire envy!

SM: You guys are just too good. Go ahead, Express yourself, brought to you by AirTel. Ha ha! Am I not a genius too ? Good, no?

Clap! Clap! Clap! The applause lasted 2.31 minutes.

AS: Wow Shashank, you are becoming a natural! At this rate you will send Manish Pandey out of business.

RS: Piyush, Sir, not Manish .

The animated discussion was punctuated by a sudden impenetrable stillness in the air.

RS: Sir, why has  Reebok  ditched us, sir! They are no longer sponsoring CT League.

SG: But why?

AS: They are supporting Lalit Modi even now. Crazy fellows.  Because they believe he best typifies their tag line I am What I Am.

SG: Forget it then ! We have come up with a real winner for our new government account .

RS: Whenever our batsmen take 2 runs, the Ministry of Health and Family Planning advertisement will be broadcast by us commentators.

SM: Really? How? What?

AL: Hum do aur Hamare Do !

RS: And we should get Sunil’s sunny-side up smile sponsored  by National Egg Coordination Committee.

Gavaskar looked slightly miffed with that , resembling an egg muffin, but was soon giving a sunny grin.

SM: I saw some bearded chap hanging around with a modern satellite mobile instrument outside that looked very fishy. . So let us do a TVS moment and Break Free from here quickly. But on tip toe. Let’s Go for It  by the will of Nike!

And with that they quietly took off their  Action sneakers and disappeared.

By the time I managed to enter the room there was only one steward standing there in a printed florescent  underwear.

Where have they all disappeared? I asked. Please, please, tell me!

The steward gave a smug smile, strutted around the room like a peacock and then contemptuously dismissed me with a resounding flourish : This is a Lux innerwear moment, Sir! Yeh Andar Ki Baat hai.

Srinivasan: I don’t like this venue for our clandestine meetings, it is a straight give-away .Which idiot chose it?

Modi ( with a sadistic smile): I did.

The venue was called The Lalit.

Manohar: Good morning, everyone! I am glad ..

Modi (interrupts, sarcastically uttering with a wicked smile): It is 5 minutes past 12. It should be Good afternoon.

A thick impenetrable silence pervaded the chic conference room where a large glittering chandelier swung precariously from the ceiling, shaking like Shakira doing a Waka Waka from left to right.

Srikanth looked disconcertingly upwards and sneezed. Srinivisan gave him a dirty look for the bad omen, whispering in tandem: Om Shanti Om!

The atmosphere reeked of restrained animosity from all its venerable occupants. A stage set for a dramatic confrontation.

Manohar: Whenever you are around, everything is chaotic. Tense. Anyway Lalit, why are you washing all our dirty underwear in public?

Modi: Linen Shash, linen-that’s the apposite expression in the Victorian language! You know why? Because we are all VIPs remember? I am also planning to get the underwear brand to be our next sponsors after DLF. Imagine it will be called VIP IPL. That will be the wow factor! We can even sponsor streakers as a new revenue stream wearing VIP frenchies to protect Indian sensibilities. They will literally take the pants off the cheerleaders also.

Manohar: But why wash our dirty VIP linen…

Modi: Actually, I have a habit of cleaning things up, Shash. Completely. I am a man of high ethics and valuations.

Srinivasan: You mean values.

Manohar: And stop calling me Shash.

Modi: Coolio, if that’s the way you want it, Mr Shashank Manohar President-Not-Yet-Suspended of BCCI.

Srikanth sneezed, and the chandelier was now swinging rather dangerously. For the first time, even Manohar and Srinivasan looked at it suspiciously. Modi looked unfazed and seemed to be chuckling at their discomfiture.

Srininvasan: Lalit, I hope you have no foul intentions.

Modi: You guys are paranoid. I am no Phantom of the Opera. If I have to knock you guys out, I will not waste that awesome glass-piece on your thick-heads. It may not work on you all.

(Exasperated, Modi looked at his watch.)

Modi: Anyway, move on. We have just 10 minutes. Time is money.

Manohar: Why are you so sensationalistic? Always leaking news to the media?

Modi pointed to his see-through black shirt. Because I wear my transparency on my chest. They don’t call me a perfect show-man to the T for nothing. In fact, I accuse you of leaking away all the time.

Srikanth sneezed and with his little finger indicated he was taking a bio-break.

Srinivasan: (hollered back at Modi I make cement, Lalit. Breaking news is against our corporate philosophy. No leaks have ever emanated from me. Ever.

Manohar: Lalit, you have clear conflict of interest issues.

Modi: Wrong! I have no conflict of interest. I only have interest in conflicts.

Manohar seemed to have liked that confession. He nodded in acquiescence.

Modi: I am a patriotic fellow. The Americans called cricket like a game of baseball on valium. So I just changed it to Viagra. I am a genius.

Srinivasan: Creative destruction, I have to say.

Srikanth returned from the rest room and let out a loud sneeze to herald his arrival..

Srinivasan: Om Shanti Om!

Modi: Funny fellow! They call him Cheekha but he only sneezes.

Manohar: Thanks to you Lalit, we have become a laughing stock of the nation because of your shenanigans.

Modi: You are welcome! At least, I have made you a stock. Given you some value.

Srinivasan: But this stock will never see any appreciation, Mr Modi, all because of your vested interests.

Modi: Remember what Pawar saab said, we are like one big family. That’s why all of us have crossholdings. I can’t understand why you all are getting so cross about it.

Manohar: But why are only builders involved in all controversial stakes? .

Modi: Because we are still building the IPL brand. It is work-in-progress. We need specialists, for DLF’s sake, to make it all work brick by brick.

The chandelier swing had mysteriously subsided.

Modi: In fact, a perceptive company is planning a movie on my illustrated career.

Srinivasan: Illustrious, you mean.

Modi: That’s the problem with you Srini—. Exactitude. With rare exceptions like bank guarantees lapsing, of course . Ha Ha!

Srinivasan gulped a glass full of coconut water.

Modi: I am planning to give all of you roles in that film. You will play yourselves. But Shash, you will have to lose some weight. And Cheekha, you will have to stop sneezing and start shouting.

Srikanth: Cheeka, Sir! Really Sir? You are a good selector, Lalit Modi Ji.

Srikanth uttered his first and last words of the afternoon. And he did not sneeze.

Sush—-, whispered Srinivasan. I hear sounds. I suspect the media has sniffed us out. I suspect a sting operation. Be careful. I suggest we sneak out quietly.

Modi: Srini, stop Sush—ing. I don’t like you making things personal. Keep her out of it.

Srinivasan: She? Who? Where? What? Why? Whom? How?

Manohar (screamed like a vuvuzela in a South African football stadium): Enough! This farce is now suspended. Until our next farce, errr, I mean our next meeting.

Everyone dispersed using separate exit doors. As Srikanth departed using the kitchen’s spiral stair-case, a sneeze was audible.

Modi used the main door and walked out to a large battalion of press-and TV photographers shoving microphones into his wide mouth .

“Sir , what happened sir. Please tell us your Breaking News, sir.”

Modi started out by clearing his throat: This is brought to you by Vicks, a Proctor and Gamble company’s product.

Modi continued: At the end of the day……( Then he suddenly remembered the gag order of BCCI).

“Yes, sir, please sir. At the end of the day?”

Modi: At the end of the day…………….there is night.

A fortnight earlier I had woken up in London, my first morning of a long-planned and eagerly awaited summer break, to see the picturesque Kensington gardens, its quaint charming interminable stretch interspersed by well-arranged trees and immaculately trimmed rose bushes. And of course, an impenetrable silence. My coveted moments of blissful tranquility was to be, however, very transitory.

As I opened the sports section of the Daily Telegraph, a familiar smug countenance stared back at me, as if with a deliberate sadistic design. It was our good ole peripatetic IPL Commissioner currently in “suspended” animation giving one of his characteristic bombastic interviews.

Elsewhere, the BCCI had callously if not altogether contemptuously dropped plans of sending an Indian team to the Asian games. And of course, a certain Mr Aniruddha Deshpande, a real-estate builder from Pune had become the latest albatross round the neck of former BCCI chief and Union Minister Sharad Pawar.

No matter how hard you try to escape desi cricket and its inimitable, fashionable faux pas, it has a knack of surfacing both with mischievous delight and with exasperating regularity. It is like a fait accompli. But I still successfully resisted my urge to do a column as I soaked in the unpredictable English summer.

As I now rummage through the evidently cataclysmic revelation about Mr Pawar’s financial stakes in a failed bid for the Pune franchise, I am compelled to reproduce a section from my just published book 11-Triumphs, Trials and Turbulence Indian cricket 2003-10, which will tell you as to why I am surprised as to how we all seem so remarkably stunned and hugely dismayed by the dingy disclosures. The writing was always on the wall, only we chose to treat it like an incomprehensible alien dialect.

So here goes and I quote:

 ”India has 600000 villages and even today over 70% of our billion population lives in rural areas combating drought, poverty, money-lender’s avarice, large disguised unemployment and perpetual indebtedness. Farmer suicides is a brutal reality of our country. But no media outlet has seriously debated why should India’s Agriculture Minister defocus from a compelling national priority by taking honorary charge of a cricket body? Why ? Isn’t it ridiculous that instead of resuscitating a dilapidated BJP senior party leader Arun Jaitley holds on to his DDCA position even as a mercurial Laloo Yadav joins the fray. What is the mesmerizing magnetic appeal of cricket administration for such veteran public servants? And frankly, how can one alter the complete BCCI structure to enable fresh talented recruits, transparent management, professional expertise, and an accountable institution to emerge ? I think the cricket loving public of India deserves a lot more respect.

” The early monsoon showers have thankfully arrived, but for Indian cricket, as always the heat is on.

See you soon!

Frankly, I had no such silly notions. This was the first time that I had ever stayed at a five star luxury hotel, secretly thrilled that one would be sharing the same roof as probably my favorite Indian cricketers did. This time I would be there in that centrally air-conditioned space longer than my short DCM Management Trainee interview. During my stay, the President hotel must have seen the highest consumption of club sandwiches ever, which was the most tummy- satisfying and value- for- money dish that took long to consume. I hoped to catch a glimpse of the revered bunch in whites in the coffee-shop as a result. Also, where else could you get chicken, ham, fried eggs, mayonnaise and potato fries on toasted bread at the same time?

But I think I am digressing right now. Unfortunately, the cricketers usually stayed at the more up-market Taj at Apollo Bunder.

We were allowed (since we were resident of the Taj Group of hotels) to go to the happening discotheque at the pricier cousin’s hotel called 1900s. It was Bombay’s hottest night-spot. Those of us who were single and ready but had no one ready to mingle with would hang around in a stag group in an inconspicuous dark corner and order one soft drink after another every half an hour in a table for five to keep our house guest reputation intact. And while Mumbai’s crowd jived, shook and swayed away to Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody, we would be just be ogling with the expression of a professional bird-watcher.

On one such desperate occasion, I saw Imran Khan, the visiting Pakistan pace bowler.

Imran Khan truly looked like a cocky king of the jungle. Adonis looks, tight-lipped, taut masculine features, casual rock-star curls, carrying a majestic aura palpable through his serene disinterestedness at everything happening around him. He sat at the head bar, surveying the dance floor with an inscrutable expression, as he sipped his wine or beer and shook hands reluctantly with strangers whose grins broadened wide enough to give an inferiority complex to Eddie Murphy. Khan had some famous city socialites as hostesses who played Florence Nightingale to him with immaculate perfection, protecting him from star-struck PYTs.

The lanky Pathan apparently invaded several couches during his team’s cricket tour and redefined cross-border relationships. Bollywood heroines were allegedly suitably impressed by the Khan’s lethal in-swinging yorkers much more than Sunil Gavaskar. Guys being guys, we manufactured sexual innuendos like how Khan reached ‘zenith with Zeenat’ jokes. Khan’s conquests were legendary but were talked about in hush-hush tones in the absence of discarded evidence. The Indian cricketers were apparently meanwhile doing flexibility exercises and 400 m jogs under the watchful eyes of their coach , and tucking into Guajarati thalis at Samrat as a reward thereafter. There were exceptions though.

Sandeep Patil was considered to be a real Casanova sort, because in the days of 5ft plus types like Gavaskar, Gundappa Vishwanath and Syed Kirmani, he was seen as the strapping muscular broad shouldered hunk. Ravi Shastri was perceived as cricket’s Hugh Hefner because of his engagement with a Bollywood actress, rather rudely called as “Mard” Singh. After Shastri’s liaisons became public, the crowd saw him as a different kind of a ‘player’ (I suspect Yuvraj Singh is going through a similar predicament). I have never seen any cricketer being booed for no apparent reason as Shastri. Even if it rained, they blamed poor old Ravi whose gentle left-arm spinners seemed incongruously unmatched to his aggressive social existence. I guess the peripatetic Shastri is now taking his revenge via the microphone.

But the turning point was the royal Nawab of Pataudi’s tryst with glamorous actress Sharmila Tagore. In my opinion, the real romance of cricket and Bollywood received solid legitimacy with that solemn union. Others merely followed that haloed tradition in different hues.

An odd couple was Parveen Babi and left-hander Sunil Durrani. There were intense rumors about the Prince of Kolkata, Sourav Ganguly and south-based actress Nagma as well, but none got sufficiently researched enough to create a modern classic. Of late, it is only poor Yuvraj Singh who is the needle of suspicion for all naughty stuff at nocturnal hours.

Essentially, the Indian media treated off-field activities as the private sacrosanct space of a professional sportsman .Nothing wrong with that. But subsequent reports surfaced about Vinod Kambli’s mindless partying and how it jeopardized his rising career mid-way in a nasty sudden halt. That a famous former Indian captain’s susceptibilities for the glitzy night-life and associated accompaniments trapped him into inevitable disaster, leading to the dark match-fixing allegations. There were other well-known victims of sleaze. But the Indian media never comprehensively reported what should have been easily discernible to the probing eye . It was deemed a consecrated personal territory, you see. But is that how it should be? Where is our expected rectitude?

A few days ago, the Hindustan Times carried a candid, graphic confession of an IPL fashion party visitor, a first-hand report of a young cricketer playing for one of the franchises, which was to say the least, scandalous. The first-person account of the glamour-blown tyro manifested the ravenous appetite of some ‘senior cricketers’ for more than just one arm candy at a time. Isn’t it atrocious then that the BCCI looks the other way when IPL late-night bash and bang is on, but chooses to be so self-righteous over a pub brawl in the West Indies? Is that not a glaring contradiction? And are we not guilty of turning a blind eye to obvious trouble-spots?

I quote from my book 11-Triumphs Trials and Turbulence: Indian Cricket 2003-10: “A few young journalists told me about the ‘senior cricketers’ and their great fondness for extra-curricular activities when traveling (Sri Lanka seems a real hot-spot) and it sounded quite freakish. Why don’t you write about it, I asked. Are you crazy? We will be totally boycotted by the entire media fraternity”, I was told. ” And the cricketers will never talk to us again”.

The above reflects our real dilemma in the Indian media; are we being over-protective and deliberately circumspect and secretive about the fallibility of our superstars on the questionable pretext that their private life is irrelevant in the larger context of the game? That we should desist from public scrutiny of their social interactions as it will be deemed intrusive? But on the flip side, since we tom-tom our cricket heroes as role models and national paragons, shouldn’t we be more exacting in our expectations of them in all spheres of life as well?

After all, once in public life does not the margin of error for everyone reduce dramatically? Did not Shashi Tharoor have to quit his ministerial portfolio over supposed intent of profiteering? So why should the media choose to ignore certain blatant indiscretions of our hugely lionized cricketers?

Frankly, why should anyone be an exception to the rule, including coaches, cricket administrators, and the like?

A leading national daily printed a front-page story on the alleged attempt by a leading IPL luminary to deny a visa to a South African fashion model. While we heard realms on Sunanda Pushkar, no one really dug deep to unravel what appeared to be a high-handed attempt at a grotesque misuse of authority.

Tiger Woods has been almost reduced to a whimpering mouse, the greatest legend golf has ever seen. John Terry, has been stripped of the coveted captaincy. Kobe Byrant went through a nightmarish phase, and Mike Tyson’s monumental downfall began with some mischievous punches out of the boxing ring.

Why are Indian cricketers seen as perennially flawless, when it is perfectly understandable that it is human to err? Is that much exaggerated halo responsible for the public backlash that follows every time the Indians crumble? Are we responsible for positioning them as ‘Gods’ when they are all actually mere mortals with feet of clay?

There seems to be some unwritten unspoken code that makes the India media blush crimson about writing about the sexual peccadilloes of our almighty cricketers, amongst other shenanigans. I thought Gary Kirsten’s mandatory diktats on pre-requisites for prime fitness to our greenhorns could have been the appropriate opening for reporting liberation. But we are in acute discomfiture talking of matters slightly awkwardly situated, I guess.

Where do we draw the line? While we certainly do not need to have a paparazzi culture, are we guilty of actually looking the other way when we can foresee a developing problem? Do we want some of our young vulnerable stalwarts to go the Kambli way? Or the more unfortunate victims of the match-fixing scandal that destroyed some brilliant careers in their prime? Remember, in the IPL age we are talking about young, simple, lower middle class to middle class cricketers who can get dazzled by the overnight euphoria of financial riches, their new celebrity status from virtual anonymity and easy availability of fringe benefits earlier thought unattainable.

Cricket could do with a conscience. And the media may have to take its definition of being a watch-dog more seriously. At least, let us bark before we bite.