Another Anonymous Blog - All Saints Cricket Days

I entered All Saints High School in the second grade, having recently moved from North India to the vibrant bustle of Hyderabad. My father and uncle were devout cricket purists, and my dad eagerly encouraged me to track the daily scores through The Hindu. My baptism into the sport was the unforgettable India-England series where our batting lineup crumbled to a paltry 42.

The Early Days of Gully and Glory

Naturally, I gravitated toward gully cricket. In the fourth grade, our ragtag neighborhood team—proudly christened Basant Talkies—scheduled a match in Barkatpura. Somehow, I managed to organize the logistics, carrying the brief authority of a self-appointed captain.

The moment we arrived at the ground, however, that illusion vanished as the older boys unceremoniously stripped me of my command. We won the toss and, with textbook schoolboy optimism, chose to bat. I managed to weasel my way higher up the order, only to scratch out a miserable single before keeping my head down and quietly slipping away from the ground before our fielding innings began.

My hand-eye coordination was, and remains, an absolute tragedy. Incapable of timing a stroke, I was relegated to survivalist defense. Turning to bowling, I lacked the athleticism to generate pace or extract turn, relying entirely on a stubborn adherence to length and line. Blessed with hands that felt remarkably like rubber, catching a cricket ball was a hazardous gamble. It didn't take long to understand my pecking order in the playground. I was destined for a much safer role: a Cricket Dreamer.

The Crucible of All Saints

By fifth grade, Saturday afternoons held a sacred rhythm reserved for primary school cricket selections. Brother K. M. Joseph possessed an uncanny, almost divine eye for talent and a rare gift for motivation. As I stood on the sidelines with the other non-playing observers, Abdul Rub was named captain, and a sharp young kid from the Telugu section, D. Suresh, was picked first. I belonged to the Hindi section; friends like Michael and Farrukh, whom I considered genuine athletes, were chosen rungs lower down.

That team went on to sweep the Montfort tournament, even scaling the ultimate peak by defeating our fierce rivals, Hyderabad Public School (HPS). The breathless, wide-eyed stories my friends brought back fueled my imagination for days.

In sixth grade, Deccan Chronicle deliveries became my window to the wider world of school cricket. Milton Balm captained the side as a ninth grader, with a quiet ninth-and-tenth-grade prodigy named Mohammed Azharuddin carving his own legend. Think about that: the future captain of the Indian national team wasn't even the captain of his own high school side. I vividly remember a match where Milton and Azhar both scored centuries—the prelude to Azhar stringing together consecutive hundreds in back-to-back games.

Spin, Swelter, and Spectatorship

When seventh grade arrived, All Saints instituted the House system: Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow. Assigned to Red House under Farrukh’s captaincy, I was surprisingly drafted as an off-spinner. We faced Green House in our opening fixture. Batting late in the order, I entered a defensive trance, padding away deliveries and desperately evading the umpire's finger before likely being run out.

After four overs, Farrukh tossed me the ball. I attempted a gentle, perspiring medium-pace run-up, somehow dragging my aching limbs through the crease to complete a legal over. Emboldened, Farrukh handed me the ball for a second spell, prompting a catastrophic pivot to spin. Abdul Rub took guard, immediately dispatching me to the boundaries on both sides of the wicket. In a fit of tactical delusion, I tried to flight the ball, delivering a fat, floating lollipop that was summarily deposited deep into the stands. It was an instant, public execution of my playing aspirations, cementing my permanent status as a Cricket Dreamer.

A Golden Era of Legends

My daily commute involved taking Bus No. 127 from Banjara Hills to Abids. By eighth grade, Mohd Rafiq—a commanding fast bowler and useful batsman—had taken the reins as All Saints captain. One afternoon, Brother Joseph swept into our classroom inquiring after Ehtesham, the vice-captain being quietly groomed for leadership who would later grace the Ranji Trophy.

We watched practice sessions from the cool security of the parapet wall. "Look at the next batsman die for practice," a friend murmured, pointing toward D. Suresh, yet another future Ranji stalwart who, alongside his legendary athletic brothers, helped secure more Montfort silverware and HPS scalps. I can still hear Brother Joseph muttering how our compact All Saints ground might handicap our players when transitioning to the expansive pastures of HPS.

By ninth grade, the walk from school past LB Stadium to catch the 127 bus from the Assembly stop was a daily ritual. I often crossed paths with Azhar, a solitary figure waiting patiently for public transport after rigorous net sessions at Nizam College.

 As my aptitude for mathematics and writing quietly developed, my cricket daydreams grew correspondingly grander.

The International Stage

Entering the tenth grade, the school machine hummed with rare synergy, featuring battle-tested veterans like Hari Mohan—a genuine fast bowler and handy hitter who would join Ehtesham and Suresh in the Ranji ranks. Contemporaries like Srinivas C., Masood, and Subodh dominated the under-19 circuit, forging an absolute powerhouse of a team.

By the time I reached junior college, former players like Rahi Prakash kept the old folklore alive. Then came the tectonic shift: Venkatapathy Raju was drafted from HPS into All Saints, a junior whose prodigious spin had my younger brother urging me to watch closely.

During my first year of engineering, the echo chambers of Hyderabad cricket erupted. Azhar stroked a magnificent double century against England in a tour warm-up, earned his Test cap, and proceeded to carve his name into immortality with three consecutive hundreds on debut. What a staggering arrival. In one breathtaking stroke, he placed All Saints squarely on the international cricket map.

Looking back across the nostalgia of those eight formative years, watching from the periphery as an observer and an eternal dreamer, All Saints wasn't just a school. Its legendary cricket culture served as the heartbeat and cornerstone of my youth.

Thought for the Day - Adaptability - the Greatest Virtue of a Leader

To roll with the punches, to sway with the breeze, to not be rigid and inflexible, is one of the greatest, if not the greatest of virtues as I see it.

Simply because it shows an open mind, a mind that's open to suggestions, possibilities and points of view that might have been missed, a mind that is open to listening, a mind that can absorb and not shut out, a mind that can infuse humour into an situation and a mind that can infuse the other with a sense of responsibility, ownership and being seen. 

How does it show? In listening, in showing an ability to modify or change plans, in considering options seriously and not striking them down, in smiling, in putting an arm around the others and say we're in this together.

Thought for the Day - Discomfort is a Sure Sign of a Growth Opportunity

I was coming off a discussion which left me a little uncomfortable. While pondering over what made me uncomfortable I realised that I could have been 1) less attached to an outcome or 2) could have been okay with not controlling the process. Overall it's something out of my comfort zone which is learning or growth opportunity for me.

Whichever way, I realised I could use every sign of discomfort as a growth opportunity. It will keep me off the drama and focused on the learning.

The Authoritative Calvin and Hobbes - Bill Watterson

I ordered a Calvin and Hobbes book for myself a couple of months ago and it has been the greatest value in terms of giving me laughs and a fun time. Watching the young lonely kid with a fertile imagination and his pet toy tiger Hobbes for company as he navigate his fears and his boredom is simply brilliant. 

I loved his constant threat to his dad that his rating as a dad might fall and he needs to give his kid more concessions to climb the ratings, his troubling the only girl in his neighborhood Susie, his lying to teachers and parents that Hobbes did all the mischief, his conversations with Hobbes who seems to get the better of him each time.

 Lovely. Best investment in a long time.

Why I am an Atheist - Bhagat Singh

I was at MR Books buying comics for my sister when I saw this slim book and picked it up. It is Bhagat Singh's (September 27, 1907-March 23, 1931) essay on why he is an atheist. It is written at a time when he is facing death by hanging for the murder of policemen John Saunders and Channan Singh and the symbolic bombing of unoccupied seats of the Central Legislative Assembly in Delhi. Bhagat Singh, Sukhdev Thapar and Shivaram Rajuguru, members of HSRA (Hindustan Socialist Republican Association) were hanged, based on the testimony of a HSRA member Hansraj Vohra. The three revolutionaries were hanged at Lahore jail, their bodies chopped to pieces, cremated and ashes dropped in the Sutlej river. Bhagat Singh became a cult figure as a 23 year old revolutionary who gave his life for his motherland.

Reading the book, which has other writings by Bhagat Singh - letters to his fellow revolutionaries Sukhdev and Rajguru, his father, petitions, messages to students and young revolutionaries, reveals his mind. Though born into a family with normal religious leanings, and schooled at DAV School where he learned mantras, his views changed as he entered National College, Lahore, and joined the Revolutionary Party. He read books by Bakunin, Lenin, Marx, Trotsky, Nirlamba Swamy on Marxism, Communism, Common Sense, to improve his knowledge and his views on God changed. As a fiery young man he believed in being real and uncompromising and believing in himself than relying on abstract ideas such as God. In his defence of why he is an atheist, he writes with candor and honesty in this essay.

He wonders at the very beginning that many might think his stand is based on pride or vanity. He agrees that people call his a dictator, inflexible with his views, a boaster and a sceptic. He says that pride and vanity are not connected to belief in God or Godly beliefs. A man who is proud of being an atheist and who has vanity of being an atheist, believes in the concept of God - whereas he does not. He fully rejects the idea of God. He says he needs no opiate to meet his end, has no selfish motive to believe in the idea of God so he purges his sins or gets a reward of paradise. He would rather listen to cold blooded reason - 'Instead of developing the ideas and experiments of ancient thinkers, thus providing ourselves with the ideological weapon for the future struggle, lethargic, idle, fanatical as we are - we cling to orthodox religion and in this way reduce human awakening to a stagnant pool'. He also says 'It's necessary for every person who stands for progress to criticise every tenet of old beliefs.' Words that ring true even today after a century.

He has questions - why did God create a world where there is no peace, why did he create man when we know all's not well in God's kingdom, a hoax that snatched the power of reason. He says that the Puranas are but fairy tales. He is against casteism, brahmanism, believes that religion is the creation of the privileged classes to usurp power and riches. Where is God when the British are ruling he asks. He quotes Upton Sinclair who wrote 'only make a man a firm believer in the immortality of soul, then rob him of all that he possesses. He will willingly help you in the process'. 

Bhagat Singh calls out 'the dirty alliance between religious preachers and possessors of power brought the boon of prisons, gallows, knouts and above all, such theories for mankind.' He also says that 'man created God in his imagination when he realised his weaknesses, limitations and shortcomings.' He urges others to face adversaries with courage and valour, even on the gallows and says he will not change his beliefs as the date of his death nears. And he did not.

Even in jail he wrote letters asking for books - Militarism by Karl Liebnecht, Why Men fight (Russel), Civil War in France (Marx), Land Revolution in Russia, Spy (Upton Sinclair), Let Wing Communism and such. 

In December 1928, Bhagat Singh and Rajguru shot dead John Saunders a junior British officer mistaking him for James Scott, a Superintendent of Police on whose order to lathi charge protesters resulted in injuries and later death of Lala Lajpat Rai. Bhagat Singh and Rajguru escaped on bicycles after shooting John Saunders while Chandrashekhar Azad, their accomplice shot dead policeman Channan Singh who was giving them chase. Hiding in a safe house for a couple of days the duo left for Calcutta under disguise, taking along with them a wife and child of another revolutionary to provide cover. They evaded detection and reached Calcutta. It was only in April 1929 when Bhagat Singh and Bhatukeshwar Dutt went to the Central Legislative Assembly in Delhi and threw a symbolic bomb into the unoccupied portion, threw leaflets and shouted slogans and courted arrest were they found to be involved in the earlier murder. In court Bhagat Singh defended himself.

In prison Bhagat Singh went on hunger strike along with another revolutionary Jatin Das protesting against poor prison conditions. Das died after 63 days of hunger strike and Bhagat Singh carried on his strike for 116 days. He was carried into court as he had become weak. At some point he refused to attend court until the conditions were met - the court went ahead and held the hearings in his absence and sentenced him to the gallows ex parte. 

At no stage did Bhagat Singh seek lenience from the court and all his petitions were only to clarify his position. He wrote to his father asking him not to plead lenience for him as it is against his principles and portrays him as a weak man begging for his life. He writes to Sukhdev not to entertain thoughts of suicide which would be seen as a weakness. He was not a fan of Gandhi's policies of non-violence - not that he encouraged violence - he valued human life but felt that symbolic gestures are important for the bigger cause. At all times he was fiercely patriotic, committed to equality among people, against casteism, for the working class, for women - every single progressive idea you see today. All this in a life of 23 years.

It was a very enlightening read.              

Cricket Dreamer - An Anonymous Blog by a Cricket Fan

I am very obsessed with numbers and I believe any number we come across has a  connection with how we live. As a kid, my dad introduced me to the cricket score board through 'The Hindu'. 

I was around 7 years old. India was touring England and was getting beaten black and blue. Still the scores stuck with me. 

https://www.cricinfo.com/series/india-tour-of-england-1974-62274/england-vs-india-1st-test-63125/full-scorecard

Then I started playing gully cricket. I had and have very bad hand-eye coordination and was awful at batting. All I could do was defend. Later on I could play square cut or even a square drive as playing square of the wicket gives a little more time. So I took to bowling, but then could not generate pace. Though, I tried spin, I could not turn the ball. I tried right arm, wrist leg spin and left arm finger spin. All in all, I was a “ Ravi Shastri” , turning  the ball once rarely. My uncle who was a doctor and played cricket in Medical College told me importance of length and line. Overpitch can be driven at will and also lifted out in the stands. Short pitch gives time and hence has no use even if the ball turns square. Good length is good but variations are essential but I had no tangible surprise element. I was a bad runner, a horrible catcher (bad hand eye coordination) and hence useless at fielding. In my opinion, one must enjoy fielding to play cricket at higher levels or else one cannot sustain playing cricket. Ask Azhar, Dravid or Jadeja. Working on fielding elongates the career and lets the cricketer to hone batting or bowling skills or both. At the end, I became a Cricket Dreamer, far from reality. 

Those were the days of Cricket Commentary. We need to applaud the Commentators skill at the craft. They were able to inculcate interest for the fans and with their spell, make the listeners enhance the imagination and make me the Dreamer. 

India’s win over West Indies in 1976 is one of the first Tests which made me dream about cricket. The fourth Innings comeback. Gavaskar’s 102, Vishy’s hundred and Mohinder’s 85. The spinners wove their magic and India won. Back then, the test was played in West Indies and hence the commentary was all through the night. My Uncle and Dad listened late into the night and I stayed up as much as possible. Early morning two young  neighbors in their early 20s told us that they stayed all througg and India won. May be they were returning back to their homes to catch some sleep. We heard the commentary rerun!

https://www.cricinfo.com/series/india-tour-of-west-indies-1975-76-62314/west-indies-vs-india-3rd-test-63161/full-scorecard

Kapil Dev arrived! Which coincided with the end of the Spin quartret. The test series in Pakistan. The commentator stated that in one of the firsts for Indian Cricket, Sadiq Mohammed asked for helmet to face Kapil’s pace. The beginning of India as a sustained fast bowling nation!  Sarfraz Nawaz and Imran Khan were  establishing themselves as the Fast bowlers. Should the credit of invention of reverse swing go to Sarfraz?  I reluctantly and grudgingly resented Pakistan fast bowlers dominance. The commentator was applauding Musthaq’s captaincy and Bedi’s team was rolled over. Over the years I developed respect for fast bowlers emerging from Pakistan thru Wasim Akram, Waqar and others. But still Kapil reigned supreme. There can be Sachin, Sunil, Dhoni, Kohli or Vaibhav but Kapil had the greatest influence in India’s cricket. 

Then came Dilip Doshi and Shivlal Yadav. Both good spinners who held the fort so that  I can continue dreaming with Kapil as the Idol. Who can forget his first century and if my memory serves right, he launched with a 6! Those were the days, when Gavaskar , Vengsarkar or most batsmen slowed the scoring to a crawl once they reached 80s!

I remember Vishy was different! India’s test victory in Melbourne with a 5 wicket spell from Kapil who had fever, a dream ball from Ghavri to dismiss Greg Chappell! 

https://www.cricinfo.com/series/india-tour-of-australia-1980-81-62293/australia-vs-india-3rd-test-63281/full-scorecard

Sandeep Patil came with the reputation as a fast scorer! His 176 in Sydney. We took a High School trip to Nagarjuna Sagar in ninth grade and the bus broke down. It was supposed to be a day trip, but the bus broke down. Thus the bus came back to the school in the midnight and we stayed back at the School. We came home early the morning, Sandeep scored his 176! In the next, England series, Sandeep scored 6 fours of Bob Willis 7 ball over. Still remember, the commentator describing his Tennis shot to make the mark!

https://www.cricinfo.com/series/india-tour-of-england-1982-62277/england-vs-india-2nd-test-63315/full-scorecard

Dilip Doshi was a rank bad fielder. At one point the commentator mentioned that Captain Gavaskar stomped on his feet in angst when Doshi guided a ball to boundary.  This kindled my imagination and from the time, I did not like bad fielders. Over time, I disliked Shastri more as he was a bad fielder and even more as a preacher when he doned the commentator’s hat.

Mohinder’s series in Pakistan and West Indies with his 5 centuries stood apart as an exemplary player of pace. I think Kapil’s 72 of 38 balls in the one day against the Mighty West Indies laid the foundation for 83 World Cup. India won the one day behind Sunny’s 90 but Kapil’s innings was truly a masterpiece and may have given him the confidence for the 175 innings in World Cup against Zimbabwe.

https://www.cricinfo.com/series/india-tour-of-west-indies-1982-83-62309/west-indies-vs-india-2nd-odi-64209/full-scorecard

I got to say listening to Commentary made me to imagine and become a Dreamer at Cricket. In fact, I would dream about the Super fast bowlers and the 20 per over batting. I was far from reality then and today those are a reality. The Commentators played their part to make me the Dreamer at Cricket.

Acts of Love - Friendship

And what better than to walk together with friends talking random things, hands over each other's shoulders, laughing. 

Lovely. Have a great life kids.