(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)L Suresh explains why Mukul Kesavan’s Men in White could have been subtitled ‘random musings of a die-hard cricket buff’.
There exists a sect of cricket pilgrims that journeys from match to match, from stadium to stadium, worshipping cricket – test cricket – and goes beyond 'connecting the excitement of test matches with results'. Cricket gratia cricketis (pardon my Latin, but I hope that translates into cricket for cricket's sake). If you belong to this class, your eyes are sure to light up when you discover that Mukul Kesavan’s book Men In White has been partly dedicated to ‘Pandara Park cricket, Feroz Shah Kotla mornings and Test Match Special on an old Philips radio’.
In terms of construct, Men in White would perhaps have made a better package as a diary, with dates that preceded each ‘chapter’ or topic. In one of his pieces, Kesavan mentions how test cricket continues to be played after sundown, in one's mind - 'you dream about the game's possibilities, you wake to it in the morning'. Such sleepless nights result in free-spirited thoughts that often cannot be streamlined and woven into a single story. In such a case, a diary approach would have provided the perfect structure for a non-linear narration, as Kesavan alternates between the past and the present, progressing from one topic to another. (I was vindicated when I finally reached the acknowledgements section that mentioned that most of the topics were separately written pieces that were published in newspapers and magazines.)
In terms of content, the book can be divided into three sections - Kesavan’s commentary on current happenings in the game, his take on various teams and his heroes, past and present, and lastly, his trip down memory lane, which is the most interesting and depressingly, the shortest portion of the book.
In an attempt to touch upon the changing phase of the game, Kesavan traces the evolution of live telecast, neutral umpires, one day cricket, technology and most importantly, the ICC – considering the fact that these are topics that the cricket buff is fairly familiar with, one wishes he had devoted more time talking of the goose-fleshy cold, winter mornings and unearthing interesting nuggets of information from the past. And who better to do it than a cricket buff who teaches history in college?
His take on the local heroes makes a compulsive read too - those of us who have chosen to look the other way when someone mentions Indian cricket especially after the World Cup will now regret our actions and go back to idolizing our Sachins, Souravs and Rahuls. His ‘team talk’ is equally interesting - the mighty Windies that everyone loved to love, Bradman's XI that caused a furore, the boring Poms, the aggressive Aussies, the robotic Proteas, the rarely-winning Indians and the wily Pakis who just had to be beaten by us.
But what you really enjoy is the blast from the past. By narrating his experiences at the Lords, the Kotla and Chepauk, Kesavan actually takes us with him to the scene of the crime. Across pages, the book provides us with pleasurable deviations into our own nostalgic past, when we lean back with the Men in White resting on our tummy and think of those early morning radio commentaries from Australia or the late evening ones from England - typically heard on an old Philips/Murphy radio. When he talks of his gully cricket exploits, we look back on our own cricket-playing days - donkey drops, no runs behind the wicket, one side runs in case of insufficient manpower for fielding, double touch out, seasoning the bat, ownership issues over the kit. This is life that has been lived by many, but this is one great opportunity to relive it in print.
You can't be a cricket-crazed Indian and speak cricket for five minutes without getting into familiar territory - who's greater, Gavaskar or Kapil Dev? Who’s better, Gavaskar or Tendulkar? How does Kapil compare with the other all-rounders of his time? Kesavan hasn't been able to steer clear of these topics either and if you are willing to go back to your childhood and be a part of this journey, it's a trip that well worth it. And the view from the window is best when you journey through the part when Tendulkar is compared to and contrasted with, of all former greats, Miandad. Capital, as old English scribes would say.
Across 270-odd pages, Kesavan touches upon several topics and offers his point of view on each – just ignore those rare occasions when you feel stumped as you come across ‘Michael’ Hayden and the ‘Chidambaram stadium’ in Bangalore. Possibly the best way to read this book would be to imagine that you are sitting with a cricket-crazy friend of yours who is throwing various arguments at you, some that you heartily agree with and others that you vociferously dispute. Cricket caps, dress codes, umpiring, camera decisions, walking, commentators, match referees - it doesn't matter who makes more sense or who wins in the end, especially if you are the kind of person to whom talking cricket matters more than anything else in the world. L Suresh explains why Mukul Kesavan’s Men in White could have been subtitled ‘random musings of a die-hard cricket buff’.
There exists a sect of cricket pilgrims that journeys from match to match, from stadium to stadium, worshipping cricket – test cricket – and goes beyond 'connecting the excitement of test matches with results'. Cricket gratia cricketis (pardon my Latin, but I hope that translates into cricket for cricket's sake). If you belong to this class, your eyes are sure to light up when you discover that Mukul Kesavan’s book Men In White has been partly dedicated to ‘Pandara Park cricket, Feroz Shah Kotla mornings and Test Match Special on an old Philips radio’.
In terms of construct, Men in White would perhaps have made a better package as a diary, with dates that preceded each ‘chapter’ or topic. In one of his pieces, Kesavan mentions how test cricket continues to be played after sundown, in one's mind - 'you dream about the game's possibilities, you wake to it in the morning'. Such sleepless nights result in free-spirited thoughts that often cannot be streamlined and woven into a single story. In such a case, a diary approach would have provided the perfect structure for a non-linear narration, as Kesavan alternates between the past and the present, progressing from one topic to another. (I was vindicated when I finally reached the acknowledgements section that mentioned that most of the topics were separately written pieces that were published in newspapers and magazines.)
In terms of content, the book can be divided into three sections - Kesavan’s commentary on current happenings in the game, his take on various teams and his heroes, past and present, and lastly, his trip down memory lane, which is the most interesting and depressingly, the shortest portion of the book.
In an attempt to touch upon the changing phase of the game, Kesavan traces the evolution of live telecast, neutral umpires, one day cricket, technology and most importantly, the ICC – considering the fact that these are topics that the cricket buff is fairly familiar with, one wishes he had devoted more time talking of the goose-fleshy cold, winter mornings and unearthing interesting nuggets of information from the past. And who better to do it than a cricket buff who teaches history in college?
His take on the local heroes makes a compulsive read too - those of us who have chosen to look the other way when someone mentions Indian cricket especially after the World Cup will now regret our actions and go back to idolizing our Sachins, Souravs and Rahuls. His ‘team talk’ is equally interesting - the mighty Windies that everyone loved to love, Bradman's XI that caused a furore, the boring Poms, the aggressive Aussies, the robotic Proteas, the rarely-winning Indians and the wily Pakis who just had to be beaten by us.
But what you really enjoy is the blast from the past. By narrating his experiences at the Lords, the Kotla and Chepauk, Kesavan actually takes us with him to the scene of the crime. Across pages, the book provides us with pleasurable deviations into our own nostalgic past, when we lean back with the Men in White resting on our tummy and think of those early morning radio commentaries from Australia or the late evening ones from England - typically heard on an old Philips/Murphy radio. When he talks of his gully cricket exploits, we look back on our own cricket-playing days - donkey drops, no runs behind the wicket, one side runs in case of insufficient manpower for fielding, double touch out, seasoning the bat, ownership issues over the kit. This is life that has been lived by many, but this is one great opportunity to relive it in print.
You can't be a cricket-crazed Indian and speak cricket for five minutes without getting into familiar territory - who's greater, Gavaskar or Kapil Dev? Who’s better, Gavaskar or Tendulkar? How does Kapil compare with the other all-rounders of his time? Kesavan hasn't been able to steer clear of these topics either and if you are willing to go back to your childhood and be a part of this journey, it's a trip that well worth it. And the view from the window is best when you journey through the part when Tendulkar is compared to and contrasted with, of all former greats, Miandad. Capital, as old English scribes would say.
Across 270-odd pages, Kesavan touches upon several topics and offers his point of view on each – just ignore those rare occasions when you feel stumped as you come across ‘Michael’ Hayden and the ‘Chidambaram stadium’ in Bangalore. Possibly the best way to read this book would be to imagine that you are sitting with a cricket-crazy friend of yours who is throwing various arguments at you, some that you heartily agree with and others that you vociferously dispute. Cricket caps, dress codes, umpiring, camera decisions, walking, commentators, match referees - it doesn't matter who makes more sense or who wins in the end, especially if you are the kind of person to whom talking cricket matters more than anything else in the world.
(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 27 May, 2007)
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