Lords of Hyderabad

I WAS out of India during the Calcutta Test, but was somewhat consoled on reading V.V.S. Laxman's remark to an interviewer that while making his 281 against the mighty Aussies he had felt as sure of himself as when he made his triple century the previous year against Karnataka.

Some of that knock I did see. I could not go to the Chinnaswamy Stadium the first day, when Karnataka put Hyderabad in and Laxman was dropped off the left arm spinner Sunil Joshi early in his innings. When I got to the ground the next morning he was well past his 100, batting in the company of that other supreme stylist, Mohammad Azharuddin. I can recall only one of Azhar's strokes that day, a whipped on drive for four. But I can remember plenty of Laxman's. When Joshi came on for a new spell he came immediately down the track and hit him into the top tier of the Member's Stand. When the second or perhaps third new ball was taken he drove Dodda Ganesh through the covers three times in a row. There was a peach of a shot played off Venkatesh Prasad, bowling only to contain, just short off a length stuff. Faced with one such ball Laxman hammered it down into the ground, so hard that it bounced above Prasad's outstretched hand and raced away to the sight-screen.

After I reached home I was besieged by journalists' phone calls. These, I regret to say, were not about Laxman's magical innings, but about the confession in distant Cape Town by one Mr. W. J. Cronje. That confession was in due course to end the cricketing career of the man who had batted with Laxman at the Chinnaswamy Stadium, his colleague for city and country, Mohammad Azharuddin.

A decent interval has now passed, and one may be permitted a quick recollection of Azhar the batsman (as distinct from Azhar the businessman). I was lucky enough to see, at the ground, his debut century against Eden Garden in 1984, a knock rich in wristy flicks through the on side, interspersed with cover drives off the back foot.

Over the years, I saw him make his half-centuries and centuries at the Chinnaswamy Stadium. And I did see, if on television, every run of the magnificent 100 he hit against Graham Gooch's English side of 1993. On fast and bouncy tracks overseas Azhar played like a novice, but on our own slow wickets he was an acknowledged master. In his pomp he was a batsman of style and dash and a superb innovationess.

Go back before Laxman and Azhar, and salute the three original nawabs of Hyderabad. M. L. Jaisimha made his debut against England in 1959, and played on and off for India for 12 years. Tall and broodingly handsome, he could bat in dogged defensive mode or, when the mood came over him, like an authentic Hyderabadi. He made several hasty exits from the Indian team but also one fairy-tale comeback.

In the winter of 1967-68 he was flown in to Australia in the middle of a series, headed straight into a Test match without so much as a practice net, and scored 74 and 101 not out to take India to within 39 runs of victory.

Abbas Ali Baig, by contrast, made a fairy-tale entry. He was called in from Oxford to replenish another depleted touring side, the selectors encouraged by a column by the great Keith Miller saying "Don't be Vague! Ask for Baig." In his debut Test (the fourth of this 1959 series) he made 26 and 112 (run out), mostly from cuts and late cuts and off drives. Sadly, in his nine other Tests he did not do justice to his talents.

The third nawab, the real one, was also the greatest. He was actually the Nawab of Pataudi, a tiny principality outside Delhi, but came to Hyderabad to play at the invitation of his mates Jai and Abbas. Pataudi of course deserves a column to himself, perhaps several. Let me only say here that his devotion to his adopted team was unswerving - he played under Jaisimha for Hyderabad while himself captaining India - and that he played his strokes with the gay abandon that comes so naturally to the cricketers of the city.

Laxman, one feels certain, knows and honours this lineage of Hyderabadi batsmen. Jaisimha he knew and revered; the choker he wears round his neck recalls, perhaps deliberately, the choker that Jai always wore. Azhar was his early mentor, a formative influence on his batsmanship in the years they played together for Hyderabad and South Zone. The influence of Baig and Pataudi might be less direct; but like those two Oxford men, Laxman is a cricketer of grace and charm on and off the field.

Let me end, however, with recalling two Hyderabadi batsmen who did not play for India. One was Asif Iqbal, who played a year or two in the Ranji Trophy before migrating across the border and playing Test cricket for Pakistan. Asif was not a nawab but a commoner, akin to that other commoner Azharuddin in his unorthodox strokes, his running between the wickets and (not least) his brilliant outfielding.

The other fellow was actually the founder of the Hyderabad School of Batsmanship. A gentle Parsi named E. B. Aibara, he coached both Baig and Jaisimha and, since he only died last year, might also have passed on a tip or two to Azhar and Laxman. Aibara, Baig told me once, "always knew where his off stump was". For years together the Hyderabad side was held together by his batting and the work with the ball of that great off-spinner, Ghulam Ahmed.

Aibara's most famous innings came early in his career. It was played at the Brabourne Stadium in February 1938, in a Ranji Trophy final between his team and Nawanagar. It was a desperately close-fought match. Nawanagar scored 152 in their first innings. Hyderabad replied with a mere 113. Nawanagar lost early wickets in their second knock but recovered to post 270.

Hyderabad now required a mammoth 310 to win. Aibara kept one end going, while the others contributed tens and twenties before getting out. The Parsi ended with 137 not out, and his side won by a single wicket. I know only the bare scores, nothing of how he made those runs against an attack led by Amar Singh, Shute Bannerjee and Vinoo Mankad - three Test bowlers, the first and last among the immortals. I kick myself that I missed V.V.S. Laxman's innings in Calcutta, but if a "playback" fairy asked me to choose between watching Aibara's knock or Laxman's I am not sure I would not choose the former.

RAMACHANDRA GUHA

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