सोमवार, 20 अगस्त 2012

VVS: Where The Bat Was A Brush, And The Cricket Field A Canvas

Laxman was not just one of his kind, he was the only ONE

VVS Laxman got it all wrong. He thought the cricket field was a large canvas, the bat a brush and the ball a solidified form of paint. Instead of dogged defence, he presented a light touch, instead of hitting the ball hard, he caressed it, as if not to cause pain, and instead of placing the delivery in the area of its arrival, like an artist does with a paint brush, he simply changed direction and placed the ball where it could find greater relevance to the divine cause of expression.

Laxman was more of an artist, and less of a batsman. He simply expanded the vision of being a painter to a dimension which required a vast space like a cricket field. The artist in him needed a much larger canvas to pour out the genius within. Fans like me did not watch Laxman bat just to see him score runs or bail India out of one more tight situation. We watched him bat because in the pretext of a willow in hand, with his artistic strokes, he provided perspectives about life which only a person with artistry in his soul could. He maneuvered the cricket field as an artist maneuvers through various creative ideas.

Just as you thought the delivery was now going to be inevitably delivered to the cover fence with a copybook swirl of the bat, with the left foot in tandem, the TV camera suddenly shifted towards the midwicket fence, focusing on a hapless and bewildered fielder fetching the ball. Just as an artist gets an instant inspiration to change the direction of his brush, Laxman often suddenly used to bring the wrist into play and dismiss the delivery to another corner of the large canvas called the cricket field. This aspect of his game was so unique that it can never ever be replicated on the cricket field. New batsmen taking his place in the middle order can replace the name in the batting order, but cannot replicate his talent, for he was not just one of his kind, he was the only ONE.

In terms of pure cricketing contribution, Laxman gave Indian cricket and India self belief. His 281 at Kolkata's Eden Gardens in the 2001 series against Australia was not just an extraordinary or unbelievable innings, it was an example of poetical destruction. Pace or spin met with a treatment which sunk the opposition into a `despair of admiration`. It was an example of grabbing the opportunity to etch his name amongst the immortals of the game. It is not that the innings manufactured Laxman, he manufactured the innings.

Whatever Laxman did or did not after that innings is purely a matter of academic discussion. In that innings he had scripted the future of Indian cricket. He started the journey of India years later being anointed as the world's No.1 test playing nation. To my mind, his innings in Kolkata and his mammoth partnership with Rahul Dravid (is it any coincidence that the two shared many great partnerships!) in that test is one of the great events in post-independence history of India. Though purely a great sporting event, it had ramifications for the entire nation's psyche, as India draws so much of its joys and sorrows from the happenings on the cricket field.

Laxman's retirement from the cricketing canvas marks the end of artistry in a game which is based so much on technique and temperament. Laxman battled hard all through his career to balance his inner urge for creativity as well as the situation he found the team in when he went into bat. But in the past few months, the artistry seemed to be deserting him; perhaps, the bat refused to be treated as a brush any more. Maybe, the bat could not reinvent itself any further. Maybe, Laxman finally had to accept that cricket is a game between bat and ball, the cricket field is not a canvas, and that he now needs to paint his future on a different pitch of life.

Artists change their canvas often, and maybe VVS, after sixteen long years, has done just that!    

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