Raju Korti
Yesterday was Javed Miandad's birthday. There is, of course, little to write about the man as his exploits on and off the field are well documented to bear any repetition but the temptation to revisit this man, barely two months older than me, stirred some memories that stem from my meeting with him in 1983-84 when the Pakistanis had come to India. At the peak of his cricketing career, just a year earlier, he had made life miserable for the Indians in that epic 451 run partnership with Mudassar Nazar in Hyderabad (Sindh).
Into my fifth year as a professional journalist, I remember nursing an intense desire to become a sports writer then. Javed Miandad had been on my radar for reasons more than the one I just mentioned. Among them was the way he stood, chin drawn forward, to confront Denniss Lillee in what appeared to be a certain physical fight since both were abrasive cricketers. That did not happen as saner counsel prevailed, but it would have been interesting to see how Javed would have stood up to the stronger Lillee.
From the very day he stepped on to the crease first he had made it clear with his demeanor and body language that he was self-styled and would not be dictated by anybody including the captains he played under; with the possible exception of Imran. But I suspect, Imran, self-styled himself, was wary of Javed's ways. Javed was never the one to take anybody's instructions and if you look at the cold war between them post their retirement, the maverick cricketer must have really restrained himself from over-riding his World Cup winning captain.
My two meetings with him during the 1983-84 series vindicated my view that Javed made for an interesting case study as a person that so seamlessly merged in the cricketer within him. Vedam Jaishankar, who covered cricket for Indian Express during my time wrote a scathing piece in "firstpost" that "Imran the captain was a megalomaniac who ran Pakistan team as his fiefdom. He believed he could rewrite the rules to suit the moment. He had scant regard for tournament rules, opponents, television channels, or even his own cricketing Board. He was a law unto himself, at least where Pakistan cricket was concerned. While he cultivated an apparently aloof image for himself, he strategically let loose the perky and extremely obnoxious Javed (Miandad) to get under the opponents' skin and unsettle them."
The only difference was Imran carried the charisma of his Oxford background -- for whatever its worth -- while Javed was crude. You could call him the tenth xerox of Imran Khan. In the face, annoying and ever ready to rub people the wrong way! However, like Imran, he reveled in holding Indians in disdain despite all the adulation both got in India. While the media and spectators viewed them as ace sportsmen, the two derived sadistic pleasure in running down Indians. Imran never made a secret of his rabid hatred of the Indians but Javed, I believed, did it just to needle the opponents and spectators. The Pakistani team had many heavyweights and almost every player acted like a parallel captain. Little wonder, many players revolted against Javed's aristocratic functioning that consequently catapulted Imran to the captaincy. Materially, it did not matter as the only difference between them was one appeared sophisticated and the other couldn't care less if he was being crass.
Javed loved the attention he got in India because of his theatrics and he got away with most of them. I was not sure how he would respond to my questions given the dubious reputation he had made for himself, but the man, off field, was another revelation. As soon as he saw me, he had that customary smirk on his face which, if you thought otherwise, also looked partly like a genuine smile. I had been tipped off by a senior cricket writer that the Pakistanis loved to be addressed as "mia" or "bhai." He was thrilled to bits being called as Javedmia or Javedbhai.
To ease the stiffness of the first meeting, I began the conversation by saying I was born in the same year (1957) as he was with him being just two months older. That worked. He immediately put a friendly arm around me and replied with his characteristic bluster that "1957 had a history attached to it. I was born that year. You will become famous too." I laughed at that cosmetic observation because as of today, he still corners attention and controversies and me nowhere close to courting history of any kind.
Javed didn't have much to speak about Indian cricketers but he was certainly in the awe of Sunil Gavaskar whom he kept calling as Govaskar. His broken English and carelessly cobbled words did not in the least make him conscious. He made no bones that he loved rattling and unsettling rivals, the pick of whom were Indians. He recalled how "this guy Dilip Doshi was quiet and concentrated on his line and length but I upset him by my banter. It even tickled Govaskar."
"What is with you that you appeal for a leg before decision from extra covers or deep fine leg?" He burst out laughing. "You can never under-estimate the potential of a chorus appeal in high-tension matches, especially against India. Forget being on the ground, I wouldn't have hesitated to appeal for LBWs even I am in the players' dug out. The idea is to pull out all the stops. Everything is fair in cricket against India because it is no less a war. For most people, cricket is a sport but for me, its a bigger deal. I am on the field for a mission. As far as I am concerned, cricket is a war and I am at war when playing." He later put this in black and white in his autobiography "Cutting Edge My Autobiography" where he describes his encounters against India in a chapter 'Wars Against India.'
Discretion never on his mind, Javed wasn't bothered if he did not make sense. Obviously, he lacked -- and still lacks --the polish that comes from education. His comments on Kashmir, on a different trajectory, vis a vis PM Imran shows he continues to be prone to needless bluster. My interaction revealed the street fighter that he was and his chirpy behaviour showed he not only fought with the bat, he wouldn't blink before throwing his verbal volleys.
I am least surprised he has married his son off to India's most wanted fugitive Dawood Ibrahim's daughter. Knowing him you can perfectly believe that the one thought in his head in forging this alliance was to cock a snook at the Indians. It is so patently Javedian. And to think of it, Dawood was very much in Mumbai moving into the bigger netherworld of crime when Javed played against India at the Wankhede stadium. Dawood fled to Dubai in 1986, the same year Javed broke Indian hearts with that last ball six off Chetan Sharma. May be their alliance was destined.
Mast sir
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