On one year of Dhoni quitting as captain, my tryst with 'MSDestiny'
It has been one year since Mahendra Singh Dhoni stepped down as the captain of the Indian cricket team in limited over formats. In the past one year, several questions have been asked about his presence in the team and more often than not (actually almost every single time) a vociferous response has come from the team management regarding the indispensability of the 36-year-old man who continues to act as a clutch to the accelerator of the team, Virat Kohli.
2017 was the year that sprung up the most unexpected circumstances in my life. Maybe it was excess consumption of "Jaaye wahin le jaaye jahan"#Besabriyaan effect that led to such emergence. For a span of three consecutive mornings in a tony Colombo hotel, I was eating breakfast in the vicinity of the man whom I have looked up to the most in life - MS Dhoni. On the completion of one year since he left his captaincy, I share my experiences of those "three days when I became a kid again".
A day of delay in the journey due to Mumbai floods accidentally allowed me to orchestrate a unique plan to wish my senior in the #BouquetNahiBookDo format. As I returned to the T3 Airport in the evening, the favorite Doublemint advertisement song - "Ek Ajnabee Haseena Se" propped up as I crossed one of the locations of the song. Two back-to-back serendipitous incidents alerted my "MS instinct" about something beautiful to look forward to during the journey. Watching #TheUntoldStory in the canteen area at the Airport also didn’t help me decipher what awaited me the next morning in Sri Lanka. Like the effervescent #JabTak, it took its time to bring up the surprise.
The restaurant named "Ports of Call" on the ground floor was the designated breakfast area for the participants of the conference. Having reached the hotel at 5am, I reached the breakfast area by 10.15am to ensure that I at least flourish in the final overs. And there I see the magician of final over finishes consuming his breakfast on the table to my second right. That moment is captured in my psyche. It will stay there for the entirety of my lifetime.
JP: "Pohe hain achhe, baaki ek kuch pudla jaisa bhi hai khana ho to."
HP: "Haha, itna Gujarati bhi nahi, bhai."
These are excerpts from an exchange originally in Gujarati with Hardik Pandya when he looked around searching for food items to include in his breakfast. All the efforts to get into the cricketers designated area in Motera Stadium came as flashes in my mind as I hurriedly moved around collecting my breakfast and a couple of glasses of cold coffee before finding a seat. A seat from where I can observe Mahi Bhai's mannerisms the best, but still not visible to him just like he has always taught - "Always to be there, never to be seen!"
But unfortunately it was time for the team to leave and amid the same came an opportunity to click a photo with him. My enthusiastic former colleagues knew about my passion for the game and the man who has taught me the most from the game.
G: "MS, one photo please", probably was difficult for a former fellow Bihari to let down this request.
MS: "Please do it quickly."
G: "Jayraj, aa jaao. Come."
I could not. My feet literally froze. And only what I could manage to do was to click their photo.
G: "Kya yaar Jayraj, MS tha. Aa jaate."
J: "Nahi bhaiya. Didn't feel like."
I honestly did not feel like clicking a photo with MS. In fact that is never on the wish list. For someone you look up to as an elder-brother figure, you do not click photos. It is a bond beyond the boundaries of optics.
The aura of any person often ends up giving you more about the person even before he/she begins conversing with you. The next morning I was dutifully on time for breakfast. I did not want to miss a chance of observing the aura of the man which created an aura of near-invincibility during run-chases in limited over formats. Seated exactly opposite to him in a table slightly adjacent to his, our tables were separated by a transparent glass wall. As I acted to do something on my phone, I witnessed him looking around the entire area while having breakfast. No wonder, it was difficult to decipher what goes on inside the head of one of the coolest customers in world cricket. And suddenly I felt he realised I was constantly observing him. He gave me a look, may be for the third or fourth time within 24 hours. Stretching a fanboy's imagination to the farthest levels, it felt like a look of familiarity. I have been around powerful auras in the past, but I did not feel intimidated by his aura; it felt quite all-encompassing to be honest.
It was only on the third day in the afternoon that I gathered some confidence to seek a chance to speak to him once the conference was over. I realised initiating a conversation with any cricketer himself would tantamount to him expecting yet another fan seeking an autograph or a photo. I decided to approach the person who seemed like the security manager of the team.
JJ: "Ye sab chhodo. Pehle ye batao, aap Gujarat mein kahan se ho?"
J: "Kya baat hai, aap bhi Gujarati ho?"
JJ: "Aapko MS se photo chahiye? I will try my best. Don't worry."
J: "Nahin, nahin, I am asking for just one thing. I have written a lot on MS. If I can just get a chance to have these writings reach him, I will be grateful."
JJ: "Okay, mail or WhatsApp nahi chalenge, please give me prints. I will try."
I rushed to the organisers' team room to seek prints of a couple of articles that I thought deemed fit to be given to MS. On being asked to go down to the "reception" and seek the same (hotel had allowed no printing charges for their room), I ran down and was confronted by the security manager again.
JJ: "MS just left. Just."
I did not have any answer. It felt like that moment at Kolkata Airport when MS missed his flight.
JJ: "Koi nahin. Please give the printouts at least."
I did give the printouts to him and then had to make my way out of the hotel for sight-seeing. After a few hours as I was back in the hotel for final check-out, I confronted the manager once again near the elevators.
J: "Kuch hua?"
JJ: "I have got them to his room. I have also told him that the writer of these notes is seeking to meet you if possible."
As I stood there conversing with him, out came from one of the four lifts, MS himself. Taking the manager to the side, he was informing him ostensibly of one of the evening plans as per the established norm. As they went towards the restaurant to discuss something, out came Virat Kohli from the other lift. Looking around for the security manager, being the only person around, it prompted me to shout, "JJ bhai, Virat bolave (JJ Bhai, Virat is calling)." There felt no difference between me and the 12-year-old kid standing a few feet away from me seeking a photo with them except the garb of maturity had dissuaded me to pursue what I wanted to.
JJ: "Ek baar please kal subeh aa jaiye. I will try my level best," my fellow Gujarati assured.
A few hours before the flight, I decided to take the plunge. The kid in me, staying a dozen kilometres away from the swanky hotel in a small rented apartment for the extra day came all the way to the hotel hoping against the odds.
JJ: "Sorry. Kids only. He said let kids get a chance first if possible after that."
After waiting for nearly an hour and a half, I was given this response. I was dejected, no doubt, but was still smiling. I just realised, standing near the lift area that those 72 hours made me revisit my childhood in so many ways. Standing among those kids made me feel that how pure is my connect with the game of cricket and the men whom I was introduced to through the game. I did not wait for long after that. The man in me had already taken over. A flight is to be caught in a few hours from an international airport in a foreign country. Rush!
I caught a glimpse of MS catching a photo with a couple of kids as I left. I realised I have no photo from the entire 72 hours of my tryst with MSDestiny. But it did not matter. All I wanted (and continue to aspire to do) is to seek an opportunity to tell him how much I have learned from him in all respects in life.
May be some day, somehow, somewhere my notes will reach him, there will be an addition to them in the form of this note as to how despite me being so close, he still ended up winning a race against one more Pandya.
(This post first appeared on the author's Facebook page.)