HERO NO.1

The magazines  would do it to ramp up the year ending circulation. Later on, the music companies took it up. Celebrity interviewers adopted it as a must ask question. Then the social networking sites introduced the funky and the bizarre in it.  I refer to the business of shortlisting of favourites.

What started as a year ending ritual of  listing ten  most influential public figures  soon came to include naming a specified number of favourite films, songs, comedians, villains and vamps, tourist spots, computer games, whiskies and SUVs, tourist destinations, puja pandals, cricket elevens, mexican dishes, etc.  Niche shortlists could include naming the greatest ever  left handed cricketers XI,   top five Ajit dialogues, best Gulazar- RD Burman-Kishore Kumar song or even the tastiest soy based crabmeat preparation.Celebrities would be asked to name five things they couldn't leave their home without . On Facebook, you could be asked to choose which of the 15 Dumbest Patients that Doctors have encountered you liked most. You could also be asked to list the craziest prank you  played in school or at the workplace or the most unbelievable excuse  you offered while caught over-speeding or cheating on your spouse.

At times one feels a bit  diffident in announcing one's selections. Recently, Facebook went into a Ponzi type tizzy with people being asked to name Ten books which they  enjoyed reading the most. The initial responses stopped me in my tracks. I had not read even half of the clutch of books people were listing. What would I say? That I was influenced by such insignificant stories like Sudarshan's  Haar ki Jeet, a Jatak katha of Buddha and Angulimaal, a few parables  of Jesus taught by the basketball coach of my school, a few school level chapters of  different episodes from  Odyssey- and that  Mahabharat I had not as much as read as had,  in the time tested tradition, heard  from  my mother  on the days there was little homework. I kept quiet. 

Most of the time, one could be pilloried for  one's selection - like tagging someone in a post on Facebook because tagging was unsportingly taken as tantamount to omission of others. Non -inclusion  of the name of a favourite cricketer in all time elevens could set up a scrum and scuffle, bypassing  a singer could throw up accusations of ignorance, incompetence  and even  insanity while  exclusion of a favourite hunk could lead to break-up  of long lasting friendship built on endless hours of  giggles and gossip. In today's humourless world, the need to  be politically correct or  gender sensitive has  added to the woes of shortlisting. I am sure I shall meet a similar fate when you read about  my choice of  Hero No. 1  for the decade that I grew up in - 1970 to 1979 .

In 1970, as a student of Class I, I became a fan of Rajesh Khanna after watching Kati Patang in Ray Talkies, Dhanbad. I wanted to style my hair and dress  up like him.  When my youngest brother was thwacked rather violently by  my mother after snipping a tuft of his hair to copy the Superstar's half parting style, I gave up  on my twin dreams . This thwack always played upon my mind whenever I thought of growing my hair over my ears like my next hero, Amitabh Bacchan. Besides, those were early days and my parents had not matured enough to allow their children to become movie buffs.The first day - first show craze  had to be deferred to the college days.

The 1971 war had immense potentiality to throw up a hero. But the real heroes were  machines , not men - the famous Gnats from which the pilots shot down the much superior American Sabre jets of the PAF. Besides, I could not bring upon myself to hoot for a Field Marshal  who shared his surname with an unpopular games teacher of my school.

Children in the age bracket of 6-15 are not expected to have political heroes, and I was no exception. This age group is expected to enjoy the fruits of political activities- like forced school closures and catchy slogans. To me, the  high point of political activity was a three months holiday beginning  the 18th of March in 1974 occasioned by Jayprakash Narayan's 'Sampoorna Kranti' call,  and three very memorable slogans- 

" Ghafoor Miyyan ki kya pehchan, Haath mei labni , munh edi paan",

" Yeh dekho Indra ka khel, Chaudah rupiya sarson thel", and

"Beta caar banata hai, Ma bekaar banati hai".

Of course, there was some interest in the Ford- Carter election in 1976 and also in the 1977 General Election, but  while I was attracted to a whole new set of politicians in 1977, and a few favourites were pencilled, no heroes  came up for me as yet.

The school heroes came and went - the handful of five pointers, successive cricket  and football captains, the School Cs-in-C and the cycling champions.  For me friends mattered more than the teachers  who were to be endured, a few to be admired but hardly anyone to be idolised -  even though a few lady teachers did manage to spark some adolescent crush. Yes, the American Jesuits were towering personalities, the Principal Father Hess was a handsome  man, looked dashing in his tennis gear. In those good old days when liking a White Man was not looked upon with xenophobic lenses as a type of servility , I did idolise him. But towards the last two years of school, I thought he was bit too harsh on me and my admiration faded. Finally,  it ended in a  stalemate- in 1979 both of us left the school within months of each other.

There was no Indian footballer who was my favourite- after all, when you do not have  podium finishes in the Asiad or Merdeka Cups, you cannot captivate the imagination of a boy who would settle for nothing less than international excellence, unlike a few of his colleagues who were mad about club level football in Calcutta. The media exposure to international football was quite minimal those days , and admiration for Johan Cryuff and Beckenbaur had not become  maniacal as it became with me for Diego in the subsequent two decades.

But for a well earned victory in the Volvo Open of 1973, quarter final loss in the boycott hit 1973 Wimbledon to the ultimate winner Jan Kodes about whom one never heard later on , a sensational win over a much older Mal Anderson from a 2-5 position in the decider set  in the Indian Grand Prix final, Vijay Amritraj  never came up to the  exacting standards I had set for my  heroes. In badminton, for most of the 1970s, Rudy Hartono and Liem Swie King defeated Prakash Padukone much too often for the latter to be elevated to the status off a full fledged hero- he had to wait till 1980, the year he won the All England. The only  Indian athlete whom I sought out was Sriram Singh, a top class 800 meters runner and a guy with a big heart. But  he lost to the Cuban Alberto Juantorena and five others in Montreal in 1976 - only deceiving after a flattering start when he led the field quite beyond the half way mark.

In 1972, the year Bobby Fischer captivated the chess aficionados, and Mark Spitz' seven golds set ablaze the pools, I was sucked into the world of hockey by  one  Mukhbain Singh. He had slammed a hat trick against our old colonial masters Britain in a 4-0 victory in first round robin match of Munich Olympics. To a boy freshly soaked in nationalistic spirit  following the   Silver Jubilee celebrations of our Independence in school held a few weeks ago, Mukhbain became a post Independence freedom fighter sort of a hero.However,  he was not very consistent after that. Other players like Ashok Kumar, Ajit Pal Singh, Michael Kindo, Aslam Sher Khan and Govinda competed for my attention.  I followed the team's fortunes  through Jasdev Singh's commentary. But India's podium finishes were few and far in between, and after the demoralizing seventh finish in Montreal in 1976, it was clear that hockey could not throw up my hero no. 1. 

I probably  first read about Sunil Gavaskar in an issue of Junior Statesman.  Referring to a record shattering 774 Test runs in 4 matches in Sunil's debut series against Gary Sobers' team, my father explained that nothing like this had ever happened in the history of Indian sport, that this man could be even better than Bradman who, he explained with a simple analogy, was the Dhyan Chand of cricket. He also said that Sunil was a great player of pace bowling and brooked no nonsense from the White Establishment of world cricket - which could not be said of most of the Indians.He also cocked a snook at the BCCI.  He was pragmatic and practical, though a tad defensive. But he played for the team, not for the stands.

So even though he was not as gifted or stylish like Vishwanath, I chose Sunil as my Hero No. 1. He has remained my No. 1 till today - he did not grovel to stay back in the team to break a world bowling record nor influence  our cricket itinerary to pickup  on a weak team to score a century as a swan song. His records don't speak half as much as  the pride and self esteem he gave to a cricket crazy country. I literally stalked Gavaskar- heard almost every ball commentated, read everything in print I could lay my eyes on in Indian Nation, Sportsweek, Sportstar, Wisden and Illustrated Weekly of India. There were many controversies which always surrounded Gavaskar - a pythonic 36 not out in 60 overs in 1975 World Cup, of crony team selection, confabulating with Kerry Packer,  but  I took no note. As long as Gavaskar was at the crease, one felt mahfooz, like a child sleeping in its mother's lap - and the Nation was left  free to do any other work.