A Man’s Man: Country or Friendship

(A Cricket Short Story by Dr. Sivaram Hariharan aka Shiva IYER; excerpted from his novel BEES: A Hive of Short Stories)

(Somewhere in the late 90s when Bhaarateeya cricket was in a state of perennial doldrum....)

They looked at each other as the umpire tossed up the coin. Ali had called heads and Vikram tails. It almost seemed like an eternity for both of them as the coin came down to the ground, hitting it with a ping and spinning furiously before it came to rest. It was tails and Vikram Menon had won the toss for Bhaarath. The wicket was dry and it was hot and Vikky, as he was affectionately called by his team-mates, chose to bat.

When Vikram Menon and Zafar Ali had looked at each other, they did not hide the deep respect that they held for each other. When they shook hands, the firmness of the grip and the extra squeeze of the palms did not mask the deep affection that they had for each other. Both had come long ways. They had paid the price in full to get to the pinnacle of their game. They had fought hard, hit their tons, taken their wickets, countered their die hard critics, brushed off their slumps, rode the roller coaster emotions of winning and losing and above all handled stoically the fickle minded nature of their fans and countrymen. Both knew too well the burden that they carried on their shoulders. It was the hopes and aspirations of two countries embroiled in eternal conflict. Two countries, which suffered a dearth of sporting heroes and were held viciously in the eagle talons of nepotism and corruption. Two countries where cricket was the only axe to be swung at nations that beat them black and blue in other sports. And when they faced each other, it was nothing short of a war. A war, where pride and honour intermingled with the smouldering gunpowder keg of religion. To lose this war was to lose it all and above all an unconscionable sin.

And yet, Vikram Menon and Zafar Ali were the best of friends. It was a tryst of destiny when both played for the same county, Warwickshire as young and budding players. Both were precocious and had smashed their way to the top as world-class all-rounders within the first two years of entering their respective national sides. In fact, there was still a constant debate raging amongst cricket fans as to who was the better one. When Ali joined Warwickshire, Vikky was already there and there was tremendous speculation amongst cricket fans as to the relationship between the two. Initially, their responses to each other were cold and professional. But the playing fields brought the best out of each of them and also fostered a friendship that extended beyond the barriers of culture, religion, and political beliefs. But they also had made a secret pact that they would never make public their friendship. Both knew each other’s ambitions to become captains and both knew well to fake a hated rivalry for each other in order to appease their fans. Both went on to become captains and frequently communicated privately with each other on the Internet with anonymous hotmail addresses. Both found each other a kindred soul and cheered each other whenever they felt down or things were not going well. Both wasted no time in congratulating the other whenever they tasted victory. And both constantly taunted each other to break newer grounds in the realm of cricket.

But, when Vikky ran into Ali at their hotel lobby at Sydney the night of the day before yesterday, he could sense that everything was not well with his friend. But this was not an occasion for free banter as the press cameras and the fans were watching their every move. Vikky could sense the sadness in Ali’s eyes as they looked at each other and he was naturally concerned. Ali hastily slipped a small piece of paper and slipped it into Vikki’s hands as they acknowledged each other and briefly shook hands. Vikky quickly slipped the note into his pocket. At an opportune moment, Vikky went into the toilet and looked at the note. It was scribbled… MEET U AT THE WELSH PUB AT THE ROCKS AT 8PM TOMORROW. HAVE TO TALK. Vikki flushed the note after reading it. 8PM was all right with him. Tomorrow evening, he and his team-mates were going out to the city to take in the sights. Vikky reckoned that he could slip away from his team-mates temporarily and meet Ali.

It was eight to the dot when Vikky walked in to sit in the chair facing the one that seated Ali. Both were wearing dark glasses, lest they be identified. They briefly hugged each other and exchanged pleasantries. Neither of them took alcohol and hence sipped glasses of apple juice which Ali had ordered.

‘It’s been a long time yaar,’ said Ali as he smiled at Vikky.

‘A long time indeed. After all those emails it feels great to meet in person,’ replied Vikky. Before Ali could respond, Vikky hastily added ‘Look yaar, time is short and I want to know what is bothering you. You do not look all right and please do not try to kid me.’

‘Nothing yaar,’ replied Ali, ‘you know of the slump we are in… we are losing to everybody out there.’

‘Well, you know that we are going through a losing streak ourselves,’ countered Vikky. ‘The Aussies are bludgeoning us and there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. We have been through these kinds of situations before and I know you better than anybody else. Nothing flusters you, Mr. Iceman. But I am sure there is more to this.’

Ali looked at Vikky at length and then sighed ‘Those goddamn bookies, those bloody filthy mafia, they are running my life now.’

‘What,’ exclaimed Vikky. ‘I thought that was all behind you. Did not the Board of Inquiry let you off the hook, the last time this scandal was boiling? I thought that this was all behind you now.’

‘I thought that myself. But things are not what they seem. Anyway let’s change the topic. So how’s family.’ ‘Listen… I’m not going to let you be till you honestly tell me more about this,’ retorted Vikky firmly.

‘You never quit do you… you filthy kafir… I guess I have to spill the beans to you. You know the bookie scandal. I have to confess that it was all true and I was involved with them at one point of time. You know, I was just trying to secure things financially for my family in the days after I do hang up my boots for the last time. Added to that, my family was going through a financial crunch at that time. I became weak to the lure of money. Now I realize that it was all one big mistake. The scandal was a nightmare. But I somehow pulled the right strings and came through clean.’

‘What! I can’t believe that I am hearing this from you,’ interjected Vikky.

‘Before you say anything more, please hear me out. You can pass your judgment later. Now the bookies are after me again and they are threatening my family. They have kidnapped my daughter and I can’t even go to the police lest invite the painful days of the scandal back into my life again. Do you know what they want?’

‘What,’ said Vikky. He could sense a feeling of anger and vexation welling up inside. ‘They want you guys to lose to us in our next head to head game on Sunday at the SCG. If it is a close contest, it would be even better for them.  Even the toss is on the line.  You have to bat first,’ said Zafar.

‘My God, this has indeed gone too far Zafar. I can’t believe that you hid this from me all these days. And I was vehemently defending your innocence in private circles. You have really let me down. All those days when we promised each other that we would play this game for the sake of the game and not let the moolah come in the way… What happened to those promises? Most of all, I can’t believe that it is YOU. I held you in such high esteem. Even my son wants to bat like you. Now look what have you brought upon yourself. You have even put your family in peril. Now tell me in what way can I ever help you. You know how much I detest all these. I am sorry yaar; this thing is like a weird googly. I can’t do anything in this regard,’ said Vikky looking at the floor. He did not want Zafar to see the anger and the sense of betrayal in his eyes.

‘I am not expecting anything from you yaar, Vikky. You are the only person I thought I could talk to without being judged. Believe me, I feel much lighter now. I feel that I am already getting punished for my past actions and unfortunately my daughter is paying for it. Inshallah you guys give us a good fight tomorrow and not whimper off into a collapse for which you guys are getting famous these days. Above all, I need you to pray for me. That’s all. I have to now take leave of you, my friend. Good luck and may the best team win,’ saying Ali placed a hand on Vikky’s shoulder and rose to leave.

Vikky could not bring himself to even say a goodbye and kept looking down. He felt numb and did not even feel Ali’s hand on his shoulder. By the time he collected himself, Ali had gone. Vikky found it very difficult to sleep that night. He was tossing and turning. Normally, he would spend the night of a game’s eve visualizing his strategies on the field for the following day, ball by ball, over by over. But no such thought entered him this night. All he could think about was the conversation that he had with Ali. He was mad at himself for having blown hot on his friend instead of lending him an empathetic ear. He also felt angry for not having said a proper goodbye. He felt impotent at the whole situation and this compounded his vexation. Then he convinced himself that he could do nothing about it. His captaincy was on the line and Bhaarath had to qualify for the next round for which they had to win. The critics and the fans were already baying for his blood and were clamouring for him to step down. One more loss and, that too to Pakistan, it would all be over. Vikky did not want to go out on that note. He wanted to step out on a high. He had fought hard to get here. Hailing from a state, not known very much for its cricketing lore, he had come through the very hard way. Kerala, his home state, was soccer country and every other sport was second to it. He had however opted for cricket and very easily made it to the state team. In the Ranji Trophy National competition, he was the lone knight on those perennial wooden spoons. He blazed records after records by his all-round performance and claimed his way into the national side in spite of all the nepotism around him. Once he got in, he never looked back. But this new problem now had raised its head like a hooded serpent at the most inopportune moment and threatened to suck everything away in its miasmic breath. But he reasoned that it was not his problem and he was not responsible for the actions of others. He could not even think of asking his team-mates to lose one for his friend. They were themselves under immense pressure to win and cement their respective places in the squad. Moreover, they also liked Vikky and held him with much affection and respect and they wanted him to stay on as captain. They wanted to win this one for the skipper. So, how could he let them down now for the sake of some nefarious bookie? The night was thus a torture for him and Vikky wanted it to pass away quickly.

'First minefield crossed,' Vicky had grimaced inwardly when he won the toss and opted to bat. The crowd egged them on, when his openers came in to bat. In the dressing room Bhaarath had made a pact of playing like possessed, like it was a matter of life and death itself. They were pumped up and adrenaline was flowing. It was like going to war. And the opposition was in no mood to play supine either. The openers were assailed by a flurry of lightning fast deliveries by the Pak speedo, Tahir Abbas, and survived a plethora of close calls. But they slowly settled into a rhythm and then it was mayhem the other way. The openers made a big partnership of 185 runs before one of them was out LBW to the spinner, Saleem. But then the one down batsman, Sharma, took off where his predecessor had left off and it was fireworks all over again. Bhaarath finished with a mighty score of 353 for the loss of just three wickets. Vikky did not even get a chance to bat as he normally batted five down in the middle order.

For Pakistan, this was a gargantuan task at hand and the asking rate was more than six runs an over. But they took to the task with gusto and the opening pair went on to crack ninety runs before one of them succumbed to the bowling of Vikky; caught behind by Patekar. Then three wickets fell in quick succession and it was a crippling blow for the Pakistanis. The score was 104 for the loss of 4 wickets when skipper Ali came in to bat. He had a forlorn look on his face and yet he managed a smile when his eyes met Vikky’s. From now on, it was life or death, not for him but for his little daughter. Ali was shaky the first few deliveries from Vikky and then slowly settled down to his natural game. Soon he upped the ante and began to play his thunderous shots, for which he was well known. He got good support for the fifth wicket and they took the score to 160 before his partner Shahid was run out in a horrendous mix up. The next batsman, Syed took his time to settle down, but Ali continued on his warpath. As the overs went on and the wickets fell around him, Ali became a lone star amidst all the destruction. And he kept the match alive by his stupendous shots to all corners of the ground and reached a fine century. The score was now 280 for the loss of 8 wickets and there were only 10 more overs with 74 runs to win and two wickets in hand. The new batsman, Sarfaraz, put up an unexpected resistance and helped Pakistan to reach a score of 341 for 8 before Patekar stumped him, off the bowling of Sharma. The last man Nasir was now left with the task of saving the day for his team. But he had to see off the remaining deliveries of the 49th over before giving the strike to his skipper, Ali. This he did shakily and set the stage for the final over to be bowled by Vikky. Pakistan now needed 13 runs off the last over with only one wicket in hand.

When Vikky looked at Ali from the top of his bowling run, he was surprised at himself. He felt no sympathy for his adversary and the heat of the battle consumed him absolutely. Indeed, his only goal now was to see the back of Ali and win the match for Bhaarath. All conflicting emotions were banished and he only wanted victory now. As he charged in to bowl his medium paced deliveries, the entire crowd was on the edge of their seats. The first ball was short of length and Ali wasted no time in clouting it over mid on for four runs. Now the target was 9 runs in 5 bowls. Vikky was angry with himself at his wayward length and bowled a very good length second ball. But Ali was in his elements now and was seeing the ball like a football. He went on the back foot and cut it for four. Now it was 5 runs in 4 balls. The next ball was also a good one but Ali came down the pitch and lofted it over the bowler’s head for four: the target, 1 run in 3 balls. Just like that the game was tied and now suddenly it was India’s game to lose. Even a tie would see India through to the next round. The next two balls from Vikky were sheer gems, pitching at good length and moving away. Ali tried in vain to put his bat to them. Vikky could not stifle his elation at this and pumped his fists into the air. The umpire immediately asked him to tone it down. Now it was do or die for both the sides, but strangely Vikky felt confident of his ability to contain Ali on this all-important delivery. The equation was one run to win in one ball.

Vikky charged in and this time the delivery was deceptively slow. Ali came down to hit it but the pace of the ball foxed him and he ended up playing a weak dribbler of a stroke down the pitch. But he had to run regardless of whether he would be able to make it to the other end or not. His partner, Nasir, had already come down half way and now Ali grunted forward with all his might. Vikky fielded the ball cleanly. All he had to do was to turn and hit the wickets and Ali would be out by a mile.  It was an easy target and even a child could hit the wickets at this range. (At this point the writer wants the reader to pause and put himself/herself in Captain Vicky Menon's shoes.  What would you do if you were him.  What decision would you take. To make Ali out or save him)

Scroll down to know what Vicky really did.

As Vicky turned and swung his right arm in an under-arm motion to hurl the ball at the wicket, the entire thing seemed like slow motion to him. In a single moment, the events of the previous day, his long standing friendship with Ali, their emails to each other, their conversations, and most importantly, the image of a helpless girl child flashed through his brain and dimmed the madness of impending victory in his eyes. When he brought his arm to the release point, the bowl still held. And when he did release it, the arm had swung up ever so slightly and the ball just skimmed over the bales, almost kissing them. The bales shook for a second by the whiff but remained in their places. Ali was safe and Pakistan had won.

At the post match ceremony, Carl Dodge, who was one of the all time great former captains of England, awarded Man of the Match to Ali. When Carl asked him as to how he felt at this miraculous win Ali said ‘Inshallah things went our way. We played hard and with them (Bhaarath) it is always like this most of the times. So we will take this victory regardless of how it eventuated. I thank all my boys for their efforts and thank my family and especially my friends and also the fans for all their support and prayers.’ As he came down the dais, he shot a quick glance at Vikky, who flashed a faint smile in response. Now it was Vikky’s turn to go up the stage as the losing captain. When asked for his comments regarding the game as well as the impending demise of his captaincy, he replied ‘Well Carl, losing is always tough and especially when you come this close. But, I am proud of my team-mates. They gave a good account of themselves on the field. However, fate had other ideas. And we will surely bounce back from this. As to whether I will still remain as captain is up to the selectors and the fans. If I have to lose my captaincy, I have few regrets. I will always be available as a regular player for my country and try to the best of my abilities and play hard.  I also congratulate Zafar Ali on his splendid century. Thank you.’

As Vikky walked away, he was strangely feeling light. He knew that he would have an email waiting for him at home. But he knew what his reply was going to be. ‘Dear Friend: glad that things turned out for the good and that your daughter is now safe. Believe me yaar, I really wanted to win, but my hands faltered at the moment of truth. However, the next time we play each other, God alone knows what things or whose lives would be at stake and if it is indeed the case, I do not want to know.  Please spare me yaar. I can’t take this kind of stress and internal conflict. But I'M VERY SURE of one thing in our next clash on the cricketing field Zafar: MY LOYALTIES WILL LIE FIRMLY WITH MY COUNTRY. As always best Regards... VM’

Dr. Sivaram Hariharan aka Shiva IYER

https://sites.google.com/site/omsriguru/

(This was the authors's maiden attempt at fiction and his first Short Story to be published in Australia iin 1998. The story came even before the first arrests were made in cricketing history when RSA captain Hanse Cronje confessed to his involvement with bookies. And then our own Mohammed Azharuddin bit the dust due to his role in match-fixing. In this light, this story condemns the bane of match-fixing and the harm it has unleashed on this beautiful sport.)