Kaaluru Kronicles: 1. The Swansong

Kaaluru Government Primary & High School was nearing its Golden Jubilee. The Chairman, President of the temple board, Headmaster and a few other eminent figures met in the Principal’s office to deliberate on the modalities of celebration – who would contribute how much, how much must be collected from the people, among others. “It is high time that we get a film star to one of our school functions. What better occasion than the Golden Jubilee?” suggested Nagesh, who owned all buses plying between Kaaluru & highway. Many people seconded his opinion and their parallel discussions created a din. Rising over it, Nagesh said “Whatever the expenditure be, do not worry Principal Sir. Let the people of Kaaluru be assured that I am still around”, placing his hands on the table, patronizingly. If anybody in the meeting had taken time off to notice his hands, he would have noticed that eight rings decorated with different precious stones adorned his fingers. The shirt, of which the top two buttons were unbuttoned, revealed a heavy gold chain with a pendent that resembled an elephant’s tusk. No doubt he could afford to bear any expenditure, not to mention the strings he could pull to ensure that the film star they chose would be gracing the function.

The meeting was about to be concluded when Headmaster Harish hit upon an ingenious idea. Harish was popular with students and faculty alike. His deep voice contradicted his lean frame. He always wore a khadi kurta, waistcoat and a dhoti. A teacher of history, it was believed that he had foregone an opportunity in one of the colleges in Mysuru to work in his hometown Kaaluru. The other teachers, including the Principal, were there because of the government order. All of them were quite amused at Harish’s choice. “I have to take care of the fields and ancestral property as well” he would answer with a smile whenever someone asked him. Not that he had much. All he had was about five acres of land and an ancestral house, whose backyard directly led to the Kaveri. He lived with his aged mother and wife. His children, upon his wife’s insistence, were studying in a private school in Bengaluru. If left to Harish, he would have educated his son & daughter in the government school, before sending them to college. His wife, though, more pragmatic, would have none of it. 

“If I am not mistaken,” Harish said in his rich, deep voice, “Karnataka’s former Ranji Captain Kumar is an alumnus of our school. I remember reading in one of his interviews about his formative years in Kaaluru. His family then migrated to Bengaluru. He was my batch mate till class seven or eight – until he shifted. Good for him, though. His talent was given an opportunity there. If he had continued here, probably, he would have ended up as a school teacher and would be sitting with us, discussing on who has to be invited.” There was slight laughter all around. Harish waited for the laughter to die down and people to concentrate on tea which had just arrived before he continued. “Why not we organize an exhibition match for our Golden Jubilee celebrations? We can have teams from universities in Mysuru or Bengaluru, where some of our children study and have Kumar in one of the teams. His celebrity status coupled with teams from Bengaluru & Mysuru provides enough reason for people to turn up for the game. We can charge an entry fee and say the proceeds will go to some ashram in one of the cities. It would add more meaning to our fifty years of existence than anything else.” There was a murmur of agreement, while Nagesh and Khincha shifted uneasily in their chairs. Khincha was a jeweler who owned the only jewelry store in Kaaluru. He was among those who had enthusiastically seconded Nagesh’s idea of inviting a film star. Nagesh’s tea lay there, untouched. Sensing tension building in the room, Harish said “Do not worry, Mr. Nagesh. Even to invite the cricket teams, sponsor their stay and more importantly, to invite Kumar we will need your financial and moral support. How can anything in Kaaluru happen without you?” Nagesh beamed with satisfaction at the unexpected importance given to him. Another round of murmurs ensued, before the Principal concluded the meeting, approving the idea and entrusting the responsibility of contacting the teams to Nagesh while the Headmaster would contact Kumar.

Kaaluru had its moment in the sun when a couple of 24x7 news channels ran features on Kumar playing in the exhibition match. Word had somehow reached our Principal that the news channels would come to the school for shooting for a feature on Kumar’s early childhood. Sriranga, our Principal, came the next day donning a neatly ironed blazer and polished formal shoes. Somehow, such grandeur stood out oddly in the environs of the government school. It was the blazer given to him during his marriage, Sriranga said. He had never worn it after that day. His wife, daughter of a former civil engineer, had taken extra care to groom him for his special day – he would be on TV! In fact, she had even called her relatives in Bengaluru telling them about it. To those who still lived to tell the tales of the Raj, Sriranga looked very much like the Sahibs. However, no news reporter came to Kaaluru. What would she tell her relatives now?

I was eagerly waiting for the match day. The Chairman of the Municipal Council had taken personal initiative to get the stands in the Municipal Grounds, where the match would take place, painted. Special enclosures were created for the all eminent people and their families. Nagesh had promised to get the MLA himself from Mandya to toss the coin. Huge hoardings announcing the match were put up all across the town. More prominent than the details of the match was the address of Khincha Jewelers and Khincha’s face, who had sponsored the hoardings and filled the Council’s coffers. There were rumors that Khincha would contest the upcoming Municipal elections. This might well be the first public outreach, some said. Nagesh and the Headmaster went all the way to the highway to receive Kumar. The last leg of their journey – from the Fort to Nagesh’s house was nothing less than a procession. People stood on either side of the road, welcoming him. The old man beside me in the crowd commented on how people would stand similarly while welcoming the erstwhile Maharaja himself. I was not sure whether the Maharaja had visited Kaaluru at all, though.

As I stepped into the packed stands of the Municipal grounds, I heard tit-bits from the people about Kumar. He was an excellent right-handed batsman in his time. He was also the captain of Karnataka’s Ranji team and had led them to victories in three consecutive Ranji and Irani trophies. He was the leading run scorer for four consecutive seasons. Former Indian players who watched him bat vouched for his caliber and said that the India cap was not far off. This happened in the prime of his career, in his late twenties or early thirties. While the fact that Kumar had lost his form later was known to all, some speculated that politics within BCCI hindered his selection. Apparently, it was West Zone’s presidency then. They did all they could to promote players from their region, at Kumar’s cost. That was when he lost his form they said. Some, however, attributed the loss of form to a link-up with a cine star in the Kannada film industry.

After below-par performances in the next few seasons, Kumar was dropped from the Ranji squad. It was when the incumbent Ranji captain got the national call that Kumar, now forty, was asked to lead the team. Karnataka had performed badly ever since he left the team, not even progressing beyond group stages. Kumar led his team to victory that season before announcing his retirement. ‘An apt swansong for an eventful career’ some newspapers reported the next day. After a couple of days, Kumar was forgotten.

All this had happened five years ago. He hadn’t ever played a game of cricket, even with his kids, since that day, it was rumoured. He had taken sanyas from the game, they said, and it was only because of the Headmaster’s invitation that he had decided to appear in this match.

The match was to be played between the teams of Mysuru & Bengaluru Universities. Kumar was part of the Bengaluru University team, his alma mater. Whichever team won the toss, Bengaluru University would bat and Kumar would open the innings – that was the unwritten pact. Players of the Mysuru University came in behind the umpires and formed a guard of honour while Kumar entered the field. Shastry, the English teacher had taken up the responsibility of commentary and was blaring away on the microphone, repeatedly emphasizing that Kumar was an alumnus of Kaaluru Government Primary & High School.

People cheered as Kumar walked in, me among them. The other opener, a student of twenty-two, ensured that he did not interrupt the adulation showered on Kumar and walked in a couple of minutes after him. Kumar took strike. He trembled a little with the feel of a bat in his hand at a competitive level after five long years. Looking around to soak in the atmosphere, Kumar composed himself. What more could he, as a player, ask for than recognition of this extent in some place so remote that the government had not even bothered to start bus service?

“Middle stump,” he shouted to the umpire. He went about with his ritual of taking a bail off the stumps to mark his guard. He adjusted his helmet and gloves for one final time before facing the delivery. The opening bowler was a left-arm medium pacer. Kumar looked at the fielders and finally, took stance. Our cheering reached a crescendo as the bowler ran in. The ball pitched on middle and leg stump and was a slightly short of full-length delivery. Kumar placed his bat to defend it. It swung and all that was heard was the ball hitting off-stump!

The crowd was stunned into silence. Even Shastry fumbled for words. Kumar stood fixed in his position, as if for the photographers of various newspapers who had taken special interest in this story and made all their way to Kaaluru. The crowd finally found its voice to cheer and applaud Kumar, as he took the long walk back to the pavilion. People started moving out of the stadium, some abusing the curator for having prepared such a pitch. I, too, moved out of the stadium and made my way to the cycle stand.

Bengaluru University won the match, I heard from some of my friends.

Photographs of Kumar being felicitated by the Chairman and the Principal made it to newspapers the next day.